I ended up with a slew of resistances that made me mostly impervious to anything ghostly. On the whole, I did fine with this: I abandoned my dagger-driven ways and sunk loads of power into swords and enchanting so I could beef myself up to take on the universe, and did so with reasonable success. ![]() You can only make locally optimal choices, at least on your first game - you can only guess at the challenges that await further down the line. The great risk with any flexible, effectively classless skill system, is that you are free to build your character in the wrong way. It looks like it’s quite big, but then you realise it’s all just-about-seamlessly accessible over a few giant platters. one next to a safe haven with a bed and one to be dropped at your current quest and then picked up again once you’ve finished selling all the bangin’ loot. There are also the teleport stones, which can be placed at your leisure, i.e. Luckily, a network of teleporters can be activated that offers instantaneous travel between key locations - you just have to find each teleporter first. Unfortunately, the lack of upper floors means that most buildings are unsightly sprawls that don’t have particularly coherent layouts.Įnemies don’t respawn, so once you’ve explored the countryside once that’s pretty much your whack. Even so, everything in the game world is rendered to perfect scale - buildings are seamlessly enterable, meaning that if you approach from the wrong direction you’ll have five minutes of running around the exterior to find the door (there are some large estates with needless garden fences and huge fenced fields with single entry points that accentuate this). If you take a look at the teleporter map, it seems like you’re spread across quite a wide area but actually playing the game, the relatively close-in perspective (well, I had to play at 800×600 because I couldn’t read the font used for books) and the character’s movement speed really eat up the distance. The world is simultaneously giant and tiny. ![]() I warned you about indoor toilets, bro! I told you dawg! I was going to be outraged that a quest was just a lot of dragging and dropping, but I chuckled so it gets away with it. There’s even a hilarious side quest that illustrates this beautifully: a cook asks you to wash dishes, which requires emptying a bucket of water into a washing tub and then putting all the dirty plates in the tub. Subtle and mostly useless, but a nice detail. ![]() But not only is most of the world mobile (oh yes, and kitchen pots count as helmets), a lot of it can be combined for effect - like dragging an empty tankard onto a cask of ale to get… A tankard full of ale. The level of interactivity in the world is also serious, with mobile objects like barrels, chairs and chests all able to be fitted into your inventory (assuming you’ve got the muscles for it). Food can be consumed to restore health, but after a few items your character will start to emit floating text saying “I’m stuffed!” (I do enjoy the light-hearted dialogue and text) and refuse to eat any more. Alongside all the basic traditions - Strength increasing damage and carry capacity, Intelligence increasing mana and so on - there are many tangential asides, such as losing health reducing your Strength. The systems that underly Divinity‘s RPG mechanics are intense in their intricacy and sophistication. I got in at level 24 and… Well, didn’t get much useful experience out of it. But no, I had to completely miss the manuscript on the floor with the instructions on how to get in and give up. I think most of my comments about Divine Divinity‘s difficulty stemmed from how badly I arsed up the introduction - right down to being unable to access a giant tomb full of nice level 1 and 2 skeletons that would have been ripe for my fledgling Survivor.
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