Tag: games (Page 1 of 2)

Dungeons & Dragons Superheroes

I recently played in a short Dungeons & Dragons campaign in which all the characters had to be inspired by classic superheroes, adapted to the medieval fantasy world of Faerûn. I liked the idea so much that I ended up creating a whole list of characters, and having much fun with it. Here are a few of them. The best part is that, if you don’t like my versions of these super-adventurers, you can just create your own.

Spider-Man
Race: Wood Elf
Class: Monk (Open Hand) with a 1–3 level dip in Rogue (Scout)

  • Wood elves have the agility, speed, and keen senses that parallel Spider-Man’s reflexes.
  • Monk gives him Quickened Movement, Unarmored Defense, and high mobility, perfect for wall-running, leaping, tumbling through enemies.
  • Open Hand techniques mimic web-trip, push, and stun effects.
  • Rogue (Scout) represents his urban acrobatics, ambush instincts, and mobility in the alleyways of a fantasy city.
  • His webbing becomes Ki-infused silk ropes produced by magical spiders he once saved in an elven ruin.
  • Signature ability: Silk Line Step – spend 1 Ki to lash a spectral silk line onto a surface and pull yourself as if casting Misty Step.

Wolverine
Race: Mountain Dwarf
Class: Barbarian (Zealot)

  • Dwarves are hardy, stubborn, and famously difficult to kill, perfect for Wolverine.
  • Zealot’s damage resistance and “nearly impossible to kill” nature works like a healing factor.
  • His claws become black-iron dwarven claw bracers, forged as a hereditary weapon.
  • Berserker rage mimics Wolverine’s ferocity.
  • Signature ability: Blackclaw Frenzy – rage activates his ancestral magic, causing the claws to extend and glow with runic fire.

Captain America
Race: Variant Human
Class: Paladin (Devotion)

  • Devotion Paladins embody justice, righteousness, courage.
  • Shield mastery parallels Cap’s iconic combat style.
  • His shield is a blessed relic of a bygone holy order, magically returning to his hand once per round.
  • The super soldier serum is replaced with a divine ritual granting enhanced physical ability.
  • Signature ability: Aegis Throw – throw the shield as a ranged spell attack that ricochets between enemies via divine light.

Iron Man
Race: Rock Gnome
Class: Artificer (Armorer)

  • Artificers literally build magical suits of armor, exactly like Tony Stark but medieval.
  • Rock gnomes have tinkering instincts and a talent for small, intricate mechanisms.
  • His arc reactor becomes a bound elemental shard powering the armor.
  • The suit can switch between Guardian (tank) and Infiltrator (ranged) modes.
  • Signature ability: Elemental Heart Beam – a lightning spell cast through the suit’s chest-crystal.

Hulk
Race: Goliath
Class: Barbarian (Berserker) with 1–2 Druid levels

  • The Hulk is a rage-fueled transformation, and Barbarians already do that.
  • Goliaths are huge, muscular, and tied to elemental/giant heritage.
  • The Druid twist: his rage is a giant-spirit possession, not radiation.
  • His Hulk form is simply his rage pushing him into magically-enhanced size and strength (like Enlarge).
  • Signature ability: Fury of the Mountain King – while raging, he grows a size category and deals extra bludgeoning damage.

Thor
Race: Protector Aasimar
Class: Cleric (Tempest)

  • Tempest Clerics literally channel thunder, lightning, and divine storms.
  • Aasimar fits the demigod archetype.
  • His hammer is a sentient storm-spirit weapon, not a piece of technology.
  • Divine retribution mimics Mjolnir’s lightning strikes.
  • Signature ability: Stormcaller’s Leap – teleport short distances in a burst of lightning (mechanically: Thunder Step).

Doctor Strange
Race: Human
Class: Wizard (Order of Scribes)

  • Strange is a scholar-mage first and foremost.
  • Scribes Wizards manipulate spellbooks, alter spells on the fly, and conjure spectral script, very Strange-like.
  • His Eye of Agamotto becomes an Ancient Glyph Key, a relic from an extinct wizard order that bends time and space.
  • Signature ability: Many-Gated Mirror – cast Misty Step, Dimension Door, or Arcane Gate through floating runic portals.

I hope you enjoy these medieval superheroes (perhaps even play some of them). I may publish more characters later.

Bad Practices in iPad Games

Sometimes I get asked why I never mention iPad games. Well, that’s because I stopped playing them a while ago. The design philosophy in the current iPad gaming landscape is pernicious, and it made me quit.

Too many iPad games today treat players not as participants but as data points in a monetization funnel. Here are a few practices that annoy me the most.

Most iPad games today run on a carefully calibrated system of deprivation. No matter what you do, you’re always missing something: a few more gold coins to upgrade your hero, a handful of gems to finish construction, or a few energy points to attempt another level. The game will happily sell you what you lack, for real money.

This isn’t accidental. Developers deliberately structure progression so that natural play slows to a crawl after the first few hours. Each new upgrade costs exponentially more, and actions are locked behind timers that can only be skipped by paying real money. It’s a psychological trap, exploiting impatience and the fear of wasted time. What begins as entertainment becomes bookkeeping, an endless loop of waiting, paying, and waiting again. The sense of reward no longer comes from achievement, but from relief: the relief of buying your way out of a delay the game itself created.

In the past, you played games when you wanted. Now, they play you according to their own schedule. “Daily missions”, “weekly events”, “limited-time offers”: these are not bonuses, but tools of behavioral conditioning. Miss a few days and your streak resets, miss an event and your character falls behind. The result is a subtle but powerful transformation of leisure into obligation. Many players don’t realize how much of their day is shaped by digital calendars owned by others. Instead of deciding when to enjoy a game, you’re checking in to maintain progress. The pleasure of play gives way to the anxiety of keeping up. Games no longer fit into your life, you are expected to fit your life around them.

Then come the ads. At first, they seem harmless. Watch a thirty-second video to earn an extra life or a bonus chest. But soon, they become unavoidable. Some games tie essential rewards exclusively to ad-watching, while others interrupt play with mandatory commercials that offer nothing in return. This relentless intrusion reshapes the very structure of the experience. You’re not really playing anymore, you’re performing a repetitive ritual of interruptions, exchanging your attention for digital trinkets. And it’s not just annoying, it’s exploitative. Many ads are misleading, often promoting other games with fabricated footage, and the constant exposure erodes the sense of immersion that good games depend on. The player becomes the product, and their time the currency.

The competitive side of iPad gaming has fared no better. In theory, multiplayer modes should reward skill, strategy, and teamwork. In practice, they often reward only one thing: spending power. Pay-to-win mechanics create a world where the best gear, characters, or power boosts are available only through real money purchases. The consequences are predictable. Players who don’t pay are crushed by those who do. The ladder becomes a measure of disposable income, not talent. Communities fracture into “whales” (big spenders) and “free players”, the latter treated as fodder to populate the ecosystem. The illusion of fair competition vanishes, leaving behind a kind of economic warfare dressed up as entertainment.

If scarcity and pressure weren’t enough, randomness seals the trap. Loot boxes and gacha systems mimic gambling: you spend money for a chance to obtain a rare item or character, without knowing the odds. The excitement of possibility keeps players hooked, but the reality is bleak: the house always wins.

Some games soften the blow with “pity systems” that guarantee a rare drop after a certain number of failures, but these thresholds are calibrated to maximize spending, not fairness. The combination of bright colors, slot-machine sounds, and near-miss psychology isn’t entertainment, it’s manipulation wrapped in confetti.

Even ostensibly fair systems, such as battle passes, often mask deeper fatigue. A well-designed pass could offer steady rewards for regular play, but most games overload them with tasks, timers, and multiple paid tiers. To finish the pass, you must log in daily, complete repetitive chores, and perhaps even pay for “exp boosters” to make it in time. The game becomes a second job, a contract signed under the illusion of fun.

Monetization doesn’t stop at the surface. Many iPad games deploy subtle psychological tricks: fake discounts on items that were never full price, perpetual countdown timers that never truly expire, or oversized “buy now” buttons placed where your finger naturally lands. Some even sell “quality of life” features (basic conveniences like faster auto-play or larger inventories) as premium upgrades. Every design choice is optimized to nudge you toward spending, not playing.

Social features, too, have been co-opted. Guilds and alliances should build camaraderie, but they’re often engineered to create guilt and obligation. You’re asked to donate resources daily, participate in timed events, or risk being expelled from the group. What could have been community becomes coercion, a network of mutual dependence sustained by anxiety.

Some games pretend to solve these problems by calling themselves “idle”. In theory, that means they respect your time and that you earn progress even when not playing. In practice, idle systems are often a disguise for more aggressive monetization. Auto-play features frequently perform better than manual play, turning the player into a spectator while the game runs itself. Progress depends on waiting for timers to expire or paying to make them expire faster. The loop remains the same, only the pacing changes.

None of this is an accident. The modern iPad gaming economy is shaped by powerful incentives. User acquisition costs are high, so once a player is captured, every mechanic must maximize retention and revenue. The App Store’s charts reward daily engagement and in-app purchases far more than artistic merit or originality. And because a small percentage of players (“whales”) account for most of the profits, game design increasingly caters to them at the expense of everyone else. Add rising production costs and the pressure to match console-level visuals, and the result is an environment where aggressive monetization feels not just acceptable, but inevitable.

It doesn’t have to be this way. There are still developers who resist the dark gravity of free-to-play economics. Games that charge a fair upfront price, that offer transparent expansions instead of manipulative microtransactions, that sell cosmetics instead of power. These titles let players progress at their own pace, take breaks without punishment, and enjoy gameplay that feels like discovery rather than labor. They publish their odds openly, respect offline play, and treat players not as a resource to extract but as guests to delight. But, unfortunately, those games are rare.

For the rest of us, awareness is the first defense. Pay attention to how a game structures its economy. Notice how often it interrupts you, how it measures your time, how it tries to sell you back the patience it just took away. Refuse to buy “solutions” to problems the game created. Support studios that charge honestly and design fairly. Write reviews that call out manipulation in clear, specific terms. And above all, remember: if a game feels like work, it’s not you who’s failing, it’s the design that’s exploiting you.

Playing Old CRPGs Again: Wasteland 3

Well, Wasteland 3 is not exactly an old CRPG (it was launched in 2020), and I’m not actually replaying it (because I never had the opportunity to play it before), but after Wasteland 2 it was an obvious choice for this series anyway.

The Wasteland franchise has always carried the weight of history. The original Wasteland (1988) laid the groundwork for post-apocalyptic RPGs and directly inspired the Fallout series. Decades later, Wasteland 2 (2014) revived the series with a modernized isometric format, featuring heavy text and a branching narrative. Wasteland 3 (2020), developed by inXile Entertainment, continues that revival but shifts the setting from the deserts of Arizona to the frozen wastelands of Colorado. This new location gives the franchise fresh thematic ground: coldness, scarcity, and survival under a tyrant’s shadow, while still keeping the Rangers as the moral (or amoral) focal point.

The Rangers once again act as the thin line between order and chaos, but instead of rebuilding the Southwest, they’re drawn into the power struggles of Colorado. The Patriarch, a strongman leader, asks them to capture his rebel children and stabilize his rule in exchange for aid to Arizona. This premise ties naturally into the ongoing Wasteland storyline: Rangers as outsiders forced to broker deals between factions, never truly at home, never entirely in control. It continues the franchise’s tradition of examining the tension between idealism and pragmatism in post-nuclear America.

Compared to the previous title in the series, Wasteland 3 brings several improvements. The turn-based tactical system feels tighter, with clearer action-point management, improved cover mechanics, and more dynamic execution. Full voice acting elevates the narrative and adds personality to factions and NPCs, reducing the fatigue of reading walls of text. Inventory and squad management are far more intuitive than in Wasteland 2, making long play sessions smoother. It’s not revolutionary, but it feels more confident and accessible without losing complexity.

That said, Wasteland 3 is no stranger to technical hiccups. At launch, and even after multiple patches, players reported crashes, quest-breaking bugs, and odd AI behavior. While many of these issues were gradually addressed, some persist even years later (and I experienced a few of them). The game is undeniably playable and fun, but the lingering rough edges betray its mid-budget production and occasionally undermine immersion.

The main story is one of the game’s strengths. Choices ripple through the world: siding with or against factions, deciding the fate of the Patriarch’s family, and ultimately determining what kind of Colorado will emerge. These ramifications create multiple endings that feel meaningfully different, a hallmark of the franchise and a significant reason for replayability. I actually played it twice, once with the Rangers truthfully on the Patriarch’s side and then with the Rangers subtly scheming against him and taking him down in the end.

Some quests shine with moral depth, while others feel rushed or unbalanced. Example of a good quest: Call to Action. This mission epitomizes what Wasteland 3 can do well. You face a moral decision where either path is rewarding, though in different ways. Instead of punishing creativity or diplomacy, the quest recognizes multiple solutions, making the player feel that their role-play matters. Example of a bad quest: Disappeared. The setup, choosing between killing one group of people, killing the other, or negotiating peace, seems promising. Yet the peaceful solution yields no rewards at all, making it ironically the least attractive option. This undermines the spirit of choice-driven gameplay and encourages players to resort to violence, even when their character wouldn’t necessarily choose to do so.

The Refugees faction encapsulates the game’s ambivalence about moral versus mechanical incentives. In theory, Rangers are protectors of the downtrodden, so siding with refugees should feel natural. In practice, however, it’s punishing: helping them brings no material rewards, damages relationships with other factions, and can even result in the refugees attacking you in the end. While this may be thematically intentional, showing the cost of altruism in a broken world, it risks alienating players who feel their compassion is being punished without narrative justification.

The DLC The Battle of Steeltown is a solid addition. It expands the world organically, with new moral quandaries and a fresh industrial backdrop. Its themes of labor, oppression, and survival connect smoothly to the main plot, making it feel like a natural extension. But the DLC Cult of the Holy Detonation is much less successful. It’s disconnected from the main story and relies heavily on gimmicky mechanics, such as ever-spawning enemies. Instead of being more challenging, this design choice makes encounters tedious and repetitive, draining the fun rather than enhancing it.

Wasteland 3 is a worthy successor that strikes a balance between accessibility and depth. Its narrative ambition, colorful factions, and branching paths make it compelling, even if not every quest lives up to the promise. Bugs and some frustrating quest designs hold it back, and the uneven DLCs show both the highs and lows of inXile’s experimentation. Wasteland 3 may stumble at times, but it delivers a memorable, choice-rich RPG that keeps the franchise alive and thriving. It’s a flawed gem, but a gem nonetheless.

Playing Old CRPGs Again: Wasteland 2

Released in 2014 by inXile Entertainment, Wasteland 2 was a long-awaited revival of a cult classic. Funded through Kickstarter and helmed by Brian Fargo (the creator of the original Wasteland in 1988), it sought to deliver a true successor after decades of dormancy. While it succeeds in capturing the spirit of its predecessor and the roots of the franchise, it also shows both its indie origins and its design ambitions.

Within the Wasteland franchise, Wasteland 2 functions as both a sequel and a reinvention. Its narrative directly follows the original’s events: the Desert Rangers return, once again tasked with enforcing order in a chaotic, irradiated American Southwest. Unlike Fallout, which diverged into a new retro-futuristic aesthetic, Wasteland 2 stays grounded in its grittier, harsher world, more Mad Max than atomic-age satire. For longtime fans, this fidelity to tone and continuity was one of the game’s strongest selling points.

At its core, Wasteland 2 is a tactical, squad-based RPG with turn-based combat and heavy skill reliance. Players control a team of up to seven characters, balancing a wide range of abilities: lockpicking, demolitions, survival, animal whispering, and more. The depth here is both rewarding and punishing. Poor skill allocation can lock you out of entire story paths.

I created my team with a Leader (armed with assault rifles and focused on leadership, barter, and the three persuasion skills available), a Rogue (armed with assault rifles and focused on alarm disarming, demolitions, lockpicking, and safecracking), a Techie Medic (armed with energy weapons and focused on computer science, mechanical repair, field medic, and surgeon), and a Sniper (armed with sniper rifles and focused on outdoorsman, perception, and weaponsmithing). For the three extra companions you can pick along the way, I went with Vulture’s Cry (made her a second sniper and animal whispering expert), Scotchmo (who can resist a hobo with a shotgun?), and Neil Thomas (a second field medic and surgeon, armed with submachine guns).

The interface can feel dated and cumbersome at the beginning, but I got used to it. Inventory management is clunky, looting takes too many clicks, and sorting through your team’s gear becomes tedious. While later patches improved quality-of-life features, the overall user experience never fully reached the polish of contemporary RPGs.

One of Wasteland 2‘s defining traits is its bleak, irreverent humor. Corpses deliver punchlines. Death cults mock religion while embracing nukes as divine relics. Conversations spiral from solemnity into absurdity without warning. Among the best examples is the wandering tortoise, a seemingly insignificant animal that, if followed patiently across a desert, leads you to a buried treasure. It’s a perfectly Wasteland moment: equal parts frustrating, hilarious, and rewarding, capturing the unpredictability that defines the franchise’s tone.

A standout feature is the nuclear device displayed in the Ranger Citadel museum. Players who trigger it will instantly end their campaign. But the game offers a clever twist: you can start over in Ranger Veteran Mode, importing your old characters with their hard-earned stats (not their equipment, though). It’s a rare, gutsy design choice that turns failure into a strange kind of reward, blending narrative and meta-game progression in a way few RPGs attempt. I used that nuke and restarted my game with characters at level 10, which didn’t make them overpowered but gave me a little edge to avoid some frustration in the early game.

One area where Wasteland 2 falters is in loot design. Far too often, rewards feel underwhelming compared to the effort required. After clearing challenging encounters or navigating dangerous radiation zones, players are greeted with meager gear that’s quickly outclassed by shop inventory. In a game where scavenging is thematically central, this undermines the sense of post-apocalyptic scarcity the narrative tries to convey.

Despite multiple patches and a remastered Director’s Cut, a handful of persistent bugs remain. Radiation suits sometimes fail to register, forcing tedious workarounds. Certain quest triggers can break if objectives are completed out of order. While rarely game-breaking, these issues interrupt immersion and can be especially frustrating in a game that encourages nonlinear exploration.

Wasteland 2 builds to a climactic confrontation between rival factions competing to reshape the post-apocalyptic world. The player’s choices carry significant weight, influencing alliances, Ranger reputations, and the survival of entire settlements. While the branching paths give the finale replay value, some players may find the resolution abrupt: character arcs end suddenly, and not all plot threads feel entirely tied off.

However, the game earns credit for rejecting neat, happy endings. True to the franchise’s spirit, the wasteland remains dangerous and unstable no matter what you do. Victory comes at a cost, reinforcing the series’ recurring theme: survival isn’t triumph, it’s just endurance.

Playing Old CRPGs Again: A Tale of Two Post-Apocalypses

After playing the Avernum Trilogy again, I decided to go back to the old classic Wasteland and its official and unofficial sequels. It was a bit more complicated than I expected. But before getting into that, let me try to untangle the serpentine saga of these games.

The history of the Wasteland and Fallout series is a tale of creative ambition, intellectual property disputes, and the persistence of a vision across decades and studios. It begins in 1988, in the twilight of the Cold War, when Interplay Productions released Wasteland, a groundbreaking post-nuclear role-playing game published by Electronic Arts. Set in a desolate American Southwest after a global thermonuclear conflict, Wasteland was one of the first CRPGs to offer a persistent world, moral complexity, and consequences for player choices. Its blend of bleak survivalism, dark humor, and open-ended gameplay laid the foundation for what would become a genre-defining legacy.

Despite its success and critical acclaim, Interplay found itself unable to produce an official sequel. Electronic Arts owned the Wasteland name, and negotiations between the two companies failed to secure a path forward. In response, Interplay attempted to carry the spirit of Wasteland forward under different guises. One such project was Fountain of Dreams (1990), a supposedly spiritual successor developed by EA without Interplay’s involvement. Set in a post-apocalyptic Florida, it was poorly received, criticized for its bugs, weak writing, and lack of polish. It was a pale shadow of its predecessor. Another would-be successor, called Meantime, was in development at Interplay and intended to use the Wasteland engine in a time-traveling storyline. However, the project was ultimately canceled, partially due to the declining commercial viability of the Apple II platform.

Unable to continue Wasteland in name, Interplay instead reimagined its thematic core. By the mid-1990s, the team led by producers like Tim Cain and designers including Leonard Boyarsky and Jason Anderson had harnessed the DNA of Wasteland into a new universe: Fallout. Released in 1997, Fallout: A Post Nuclear Role Playing Game was the spiritual successor in everything but name. It retained Wasteland‘s gritty atmosphere and irreverent tone, and added a distinctive retro-futuristic 1950s aesthetic, as well as a unique SPECIAL character system (an acronym for Strength, Perception, Endurance, Charisma, Intelligence, Agility, and Luck). The gamble paid off: Fallout launched a franchise that would span decades, including direct sequels (Fallout 2, Fallout: New Vegas), Bethesda’s rebooted entries (Fallout 3, Fallout 4, Fallout 76), and countless mods and spin-offs.

Meanwhile, Wasteland itself remained dormant for over two decades, until the rights finally reverted to Brian Fargo, the founder of Interplay and head of a new studio, inXile Entertainment. With crowdfunding on Kickstarter and a strong nostalgic following, Wasteland 2 was released in 2014, delivering a true sequel to the 1988 original. It combined old-school turn-based combat with modern design sensibilities, and despite its rough edges, it was warmly received. Its sequel, Wasteland 3, launched in 2020 with refined mechanics, voice acting, and a snowy Colorado setting that pushed the series further into narrative sophistication.

My plan to replay all these games hit some obstacles. I do own all the Fallout games, but they are all for Windows systems, and I currently only have a Mac laptop. The Fallout series will have to wait. Fortunately, my Wasteland series is for Apple computers. Unfortunately, the first game no longer works with more recent operating systems. So my post-apocalyptic adventures will have to start with Wastelands 2. I will write about it here but it will take a while, because it’s a big game.

Playing Old CRPGs Again: Avernum Trilogy

Next on my adventures into old CRPGs, I got into the Avernum Trilogy, by Spiderweb Software. I never played the original Exile series from the 1990s, but I did play the remake series, renamed Avernum, six games published from 2000 to 2009. However, those games no longer work on new computers. Fortunately, Jeff Vogel (owner of Spiderweb Software) has been launching new remakes of the series, and the first trilogy is already available. All these games are deeply rooted in traditional CRPG design, featuring turn-based combat, non-linear storytelling, and a vast, immersive underground world.

In Avernum: Escape from the Pit (2011), the player assumes the role of a group of prisoners exiled into the vast subterranean realm of Avernum, a cavernous world beneath the surface controlled by the tyrannical Empire. Unlike many CRPGs where the protagonist is a chosen hero, Escape from the Pit presents a world where survival is the first goal, and grander ambitions unfold naturally.

Thematically, the game explores oppression, resistance, and exile, drawing from dystopian fiction and the American frontier myth. The player’s choices (to merely survive, seek revenge, or escape) create a sense of agency, though the narrative structure remains relatively fixed. As expected from an independent game, the graphics are simple but very functional.

The game retains Spiderweb’s signature turn-based combat and isometric, grid-based exploration. It features deep tactical gameplay with a variety of abilities and skills. Character progression is robust, offering numerous build options. For this run, my group of four adventurers consisted of two dual-wielding fighters in the front and an archer and a priest/mage hybrid in the back. It was not the most efficient formation but it was fun to play. Magic users become very powerful around the middle of the game, so a group of mages and priests would have been a much stronger choice.

The underworld of Avernum is vast and interconnected, filled with hidden ruins, cities ruled by desperate exiles, and factions vying for dominance. The sense of discovery (finding lost vaults, encountering strange cave-dwelling races, or unearthing the history of Avernum) makes exploration very satisfying.

Avernum II: Crystal Souls (2015) was my favorite in the trilogy. It builds upon its predecessor by escalating the stakes and presenting a full-scale war between Avernum and the Empire, with the alien-like Vahnatai acting as an unpredictable third force. In the previous game we got hints of the existence of this ancient people, and meeting them here and learning about their culture deepens the world’s lore, bringing elements of lost civilizations and enigmatic magic into play.

Themes of war, diplomacy, and cultural misunderstanding drive the story. The presence of the Crystal Souls, ancient Vahnatai artifacts stolen by humans, introduces a compelling central conflict that asks whether peace is even possible or if mutual destruction is inevitable.

For this game, based on the previous experience, my group of four adventurers consisted of just one dual-wielding fighter, one priest, and two mages (who dealt an absurd amount of damage with their area of effect spells).

Avernum II: Crystal Souls is a step up from its predecessor in terms of complexity and scope. The story is stronger, the world more developed, and the choices feel more impactful. It stands as the most substantial narrative experience in the trilogy.

Avernum III: Ruined World (2018) tried to be more ambitious but didn’t fully succeed. It takes the series in a different direction by allowing players to go to the surface world for the first time, a land now devastated by an unknown menace. Instead of fighting for survival in the underworld, the game shifts to a post-apocalyptic tone, where players must navigate a collapsing Empire.

The problem was that, instead of the well developed and unique settlements we can visit in the previous games, what we find in the surface world are very generic towns with very generic inhabitants. For example, while we were used to named NPCs with their own back stories populating the towns, here we have the same merchants (blacksmith, weaver, etc) appearing in any town you go and having the same dialogue lines. It feels very repetitive, almost like the developers didn’t have enough time to properly populate the large number of settlements in the game.

The game’s central theme is civilization in decline. And if you take too long to solve the mysteries and complete your missions you will see towns destroyed, refugees fleeing, and the slow encroachment of a new alien threat. Unlike its predecessors, which are tightly structured, Ruined World is more open-ended, allowing players to shape the fate of the surface world through their actions. This new direction enhances player agency, but it also creates pacing issues. The urgency of the disaster can clash with the open-world exploration, making it easy to miss key story beats.

The party I used in Avernum II was so successful that I followed the same structure in Avernum III: one dual-wielding fighter, one priest, and two mages. And I advanced in the main quest as fast as I could, trying to prevent too much destruction to the surface world. Although this strategy worked well, it left me with the sensation that I didn’t explore the game world as well as I wished.

The shift to the surface is both a strength and a weakness. The devastated world is compelling, but lacks some of the uniqueness that made Avernum‘s underground setting so engaging. The world is more reactive than in previous games, but it can feel a bit overwhelming and unfocused compared to the tighter narrative of Crystal Souls.

I did enjoy replaying the Avernum trilogy. It excels in worldbuilding, tactical combat, and non-linear storytelling. While Escape from the Pit sets the stage with a strong survival narrative, Crystal Souls delivers the best story and character depth. Ruined World is the most mechanically ambitious, but its sprawling open-world design can dilute its storytelling.

Playing Old CRPGs Again: Adjusting the Plan

My initial idea was to explore old CRPGs roughly chronologically, but I’ve encountered a couple of technical obstacles. First, obviously, I no longer own all those games I played a decade or two ago. Second, with the evolution of hardware and operating systems, some games no longer work on recent computers. Third, I currently only have access to a MacBook Pro, and many of the games on the list are only available for PC. 

After Darklands, I wanted to play Betrayal at Krondor (1993) or The Elder Scrolls: Arena (1994), but I only own the PC versions of these games. Same for Diablo (1996) and The Elder Scrolls II: Daggerfall (1996). Next on the list was the Baldur’s Gate series, which I would like to play in sequence: Baldur’s Gate (1998), Baldur’s Gate: Tales of the Sword Coast (1999), Baldur’s Gate: Siege of Dragonspear (2016), Baldur’s Gate II: Shadows of Amn (2000), Baldur’s Gate II: Throne of Bhaal (2001), and finally Baldur’s Gate 3 (2023). That, of course, will take a long time.

So before getting into the whole Baldur’s Gate series (again), I thought of playing the Spiderweb Software games. The first one I played in the past was Nethergate (1998), which I remember enjoying very much. It was loosely based on the Roman occupation of Britain, and you could choose to play as the Celts or the Romans. While I no longer have my original copy of Nethergate, I do have the revamped version Nethergate: Resurrection (2007), but it’s for PC. Next, there is the Avernum series, six games from 2000 to 2009, but the versions I own no longer work on newer Mac OS X systems. Fortunately, Jeff Vogel (owner of Spiderweb Software) periodically revamps his games, and there is a new version of the Avernum series from the 2000s (which itself is a new version of the Exile series from the 1990s). So this is what I will be (re)playing next: Avernum: Escape from the Pit (2011), Avernum 2: Crystal Souls (2015), and Avernum 3: Ruined World (2018). Do recently revamped versions of old games still count as old games?

Playing Old CRPGs Again: Back into the Darklands

When Microprose launched Darklands in 1992, I became obsessed with the game. I played it hour after hour, day after day, week after week, always experimenting with new ways to explore the game world and vanquish the enemies. Replaying it now was still very satisfying, despite the dated graphic presentation.

Unlike the high-fantasy worlds inspired by Ultima or Dungeons & Dragons, Darklands is set in a historically grounded 15th-century Holy Roman Empire, where alchemy, saintly miracles, and medieval folklore are real. The game offers an open-ended experience where players can travel across Germany, engaging in political intrigue, mercenary work, or combating supernatural horrors like demons and witches. The dynamic world reacts to the player’s choices, and success relies on combat and diplomacy, alchemy, and knowledge of religious traditions. Though the interface and graphics are dated by modern standards, the sheer depth of the game makes it a rewarding experience.

Darklands, like many Microprose games of that time, comes with a comprehensive printed manual, a tome packed with historical references, gameplay mechanics, and world-building details. It was a rich companion that provided context for medieval German society, the role of saints, alchemical formulas, and the political landscape. It was as much an educational piece as a gameplay guide, encouraging players to immerse themselves in the setting rather than just skim for controls and shortcuts. In an era before easy internet guides, such manuals were crucial, and Darklands set a high standard with its depth and authenticity.

The character creation system is another remarkable aspect, resembling a mini-game in itself. Instead of simply selecting stats, players shape their characters’ past by choosing their upbringing, professions, and career paths, each choice influencing skills, attributes, and even aging. A character who has spent decades mastering alchemy will be formidable but will start with reduced vitality due to age. This approach forces players to balance youthful adaptability with the benefits of experience, making the process both strategic and deeply immersive.

Features like a detailed manual and an elaborate character creation system have largely vanished from modern gaming, replaced by quick in-game tutorials designed to get players into the action within minutes. The shift is likely due to evolving player expectations and a diminishing willingness to engage with slower, text-heavy introductions. Games today prioritize accessibility, which is not necessarily a bad thing. Still, it does mean that the sense of deep preparation and gradual mastery (once integral to RPGs) has been lost. Whether this reflects a decline in attention span or just a change in design philosophy is debatable, but it’s hard to deny that something valuable has been left behind.

One of the most fascinating elements of Darklands is its integration of medieval mythology, presenting a world where alchemical potions work, dragons haunt remote regions, and Christian saints can grant divine intervention (if one prays correctly). This blending of folklore with historical accuracy creates a unique atmosphere, reinforcing the idea that people in the Middle Ages truly believed in these forces. The inclusion of Christianity as a mythological system alongside pagan and occult elements is a subtle but intriguing move, especially for players with an atheistic perspective, as it places all supernatural elements on equal footing. Rather than preaching faith, Darklands treats belief as a mechanic, where devotion and knowledge of religious customs yield tangible results, mirroring the worldview of the era rather than modern sensibilities.

For my replay of Darklands, I went with an old strategy that I call the Blood, Sweat & Tears Plan. That is a jazz-rock band that started in the sixties and keeps playing under the same name but with none of the original musicians present. They were replaced gradually, but the band’s identity remains the same. In the game, the party accumulates fame and riches (money and equipment) that stay with the group even if individual members are replaced. So, I created a system for ending up with a strong group of adventurers reaching their peak based on previous party members’ blood, sweat, and tears.

I start with three fighters (with a past of recruit, soldier, and veteran, successively) and one healer (noble heir, student, physician). Their job is to accumulate fame and money, doing missions from fighting thugs in back alleys to defeating baron robbers in their castles. Once the healer is well trained in Read & Write, and the group is well equipped (including the coveted 37q plate armor from Nurnberg), I replace the fighters. This second party consists of one fighter who is marked to be expendable (recruit, soldier, veteran), one young fighter (recruit) with high perception, one young healer-alchemist (recruit) with high intelligence, and the old healer from the previous formation. These guys will advance deeper into the plot, going through the sabbat and the Monastery, and finally exploring the Citadel for the first time, where the expendable fighter is sacrificed (it’s an episode where you lose a team member, but with this revolving door strategy we can use this to our advantage). Meanwhile, the first young fighter is trained in artifice, and the healer-alchemist gets his healing and alchemy up to 60. In the Monastery, they can get 45q plate armor for everyone and +60 Latin. Time for the third party, which gets a second expendable fighter (recruit, soldier, veteran) to replace the first, a new young fighter (recruit) with high agility, a new healer-alchemist (recruit) with high intelligence, and keeps the high perception fighter from the previous formation. They basically repeat what the second party did, along the way training the healer-alchemist in healing and alchemy up to 60, collecting saint knowledge and alchemy formulas, and sacrificing the expendable fighter again. Then I get to my final party: the fighter with high perception, the fighter with high agility, a new young fighter (recruit) also with high agility, and the healer-alchemist with high intelligence. These guys have the fame, money, equipment, and loot accumulated by the previous formations. They are able to get all saint knowledge available and train everyone in religion up to 90, get the best equipment in the game, and finish all the quests, including killing dragons, clearing mines, and completing the cycle of Sabbat, Monastery, and Citadel. Very satisfying gameplay.

In many ways, Darklands was ahead of its time. While it never became a commercial success, its influence can still be seen in later RPGs that emphasize historical authenticity and player-driven narratives. It remains a cult classic, a relic of an era when games were sprawling, unapologetically complex, and designed for those willing to lose themselves in their depths.

Learning to play chess: taking a break

After exactly 6,000 rapid games on chess.com, I’ve decided to take a break. What this means is still to be determined, but I got some interesting insights from this first burst into the game of chess.

As expected, after a fairly quick climb in my rating I reached what feels like an unmovable wall. That’s how it’s supposed to work: you keep winning against progressively better opponents until you find opponents that are better than you, and then you start losing. That’s how your rating gets determined. Mine found its plateau between 1300 and 1350, with eventual drops into the upper 1200s and one heroic jump beyond 1400 (which only lasted for a couple of games).

I’ve been playing many games and learning a few things, but if I want to really evolve I need to study (especially openings). And studying chess, at least for me, is not as fun as playing chess. It requires time and patience, and it comes with the knowledge that no matter how much I study my progress is going to be minimal in the great scheme of things. I’m too old and probably not sufficiently talented to learn enough to be competitive at any serious level. That doesn’t make me sad, it just doesn’t give me much incentive to put serious time into studying chess. A rating of 1300 is already beyond my initial expectations and I’m happy with that.

Another thing worth mentioning is the emotional aspect of playing chess. I was extremely surprised with the exhilarating highs and crushing lows that it elicits.

When you win, you get a profound sense of accomplishment. When a well-thought-out strategy unfolds as planned, and every move you make outmaneuvers your opponent, the satisfaction is immense. The thrill of predicting your opponent’s moves and laying traps that lead to victory can be incredibly rewarding. The sheer intellectual challenge of chess, combined with the rush of outsmarting an opponent, makes it one of the most exhilarating experiences a player can have. 

When you lose, the sense of frustration is overpowering. The game demands intense concentration, patience, and foresight. A single misstep can unravel an entire strategy, leading to a swift and often unforgiving defeat. The disappointment of realizing that a mistake has cost you the game, especially after investing significant mental energy, can be overwhelming. This feeling is compounded by the fact that in chess, there are no elements of luck, only skill and decision-making. This means that when things go wrong, the responsibility lies squarely on the player’s shoulders.

Adding to the vexation, when you are playing online, there is the suspicion that sometimes your opponent may be cheating. The obvious cheaters are not a problem: they play so perfectly that the system clearly recognizes that they are being assisted by a computer, and they are soon banned. However, I have encountered too many people who play poorly at the beginning of the game, finding themselves at a clear and overwhelming disadvantage in the middle game, and then start playing like machines, every move perfect, with amazing tactical combinations several moves deep. Either they called a grand master to finish the game they started so ineptly or they decided to use computer help once they saw they couldn’t win the game by themselves. And because of the bad decisions they make at the beginning, the average precision for the whole game is not high enough to raise suspicion from the anti-cheating system. It’s very irritating.

I still highly enjoy playing chess. But I have decided to take a break for now. Will I study openings and come back toughened up and ready for a challenge? I don’t know yet. Will I not study and still return to the game, content with my current rating, and just be glad to play for fun without expecting any meaningful advancement? I don’t know yet. Will I never play chess again? I don’t think that’s a possibility.

Playing Old CRPGs Again: Exploring the Lands of Lore

The next game in my revival series was Lands of Lore: The Throne of Chaos (Virgin Games, 1993), developed by Westwood Studios, the same guys who made the first two instalments of Eye of The Beholder. And this game has a very similar interface, with some clear improvements over the predecessors. Stepping away from the Dungeons & Dragons license, Lands of Lore brought its own mythology in what looks like a hybrid of RPG and adventure genres.

Set in the high-fantasy world of Gladstone, the game presents a classic struggle between good and evil. The story revolves around a powerful artifact, the Nether Mask, and the efforts of the kingdom to thwart its misuse by the malevolent sorceress Scotia. The player assumes the role of a chosen champion tasked by King Richard to prevent Scotia’s rise to power. The themes are quintessentially from medieval fantasy, with elements of heroism, betrayal, and mysticism.

You can’t create your own character and have to choose one of the available heroes to play. I went with Michael, a balanced choice with skills in both combat and magic. The party grows as the adventure progresses, with companions joining temporarily based on the plot. The challenges include the usual exploration and puzzle-solving, with combat against a diverse array of enemies. Resource management is crucial, as sometimes there’s a lack of food and potions (using magic to heal between battles will save the day), and your weapons don’t last forever. The puzzles are well-designed, often requiring good observation and a lot of experimentation.

It was quite pleasing playing Lands of Lore: The Throne of Chaos again. And I had the version released on CD, which came with great voice acting, including Patrick Stewart as King Richard.

Then I decided to play the sequel, Lands of Lore: Guardians of Destiny (Virgin Games, 1997). It marked a shift in tone and gameplay for the series. Developed by the same Westwood team, the game was designed during a period of significant technological change in gaming, including the rise of 3D graphics and free-roaming environments. As a result, it departed from the grid-based system of its predecessor, embracing a more dynamic and cinematic experience. Today it looks a bit primitive, and I prefer the traditional Eye of the Beholder style, but I can understand they wanted to try something innovative for the time. It just didn’t feel like it belonged to the same series.

The sequel takes place years after the events of The Throne of Chaos and follows Luther, a cursed young man caught in a struggle between opposing forces of light and dark. The story explores themes of duality, redemption, and destiny, with Luther’s transformations into beast and lizard forms playing a central role in both narrative and gameplay. It’s critical to learn when to use Luther’s beast form for combat and his lizard form for agility and puzzle-solving.

I never played Guardians of Destiny when it was launched, and playing it now wasn’t really a satisfying experience. Gameplay is a bit clunky and the game crashed constantly (I know, it wasn’t originally designed for a super fast computer made a quarter of a century later). So I gladly put it away and started looking for the next one.

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