The first game had a great idea for it's combat system and if it worked as intended it would have been amazing. What ultimately happens is that most of combat just turns into spamming master strikes, stabbing in the face, bonking on the head, and clinches because stronger enemies counter everything so fancy shit like combos don't really work. Combat should be more enjoyable against stronger foes not the weaker ones.
Both Mafia and KCD1 were cult classics, games that actual gamers played but niggercattle and casuals likely didn't because PewDiePie never talked about it. Doesn't mean these games aren't good for what they are.
There is at least 3 instances of you having to waste time and haul sacks that I counted so far, two of these being mandatory main mission stuff. This is a game where Henry is a knight but barely does anything even remotely related to being one unless he bums around in the open world.
This is about 90% of the gameplay in KCD2, excellent summation
There's also one in the open world where you have to carry a corpse 200m because I guess the developers couldn't figure out how to code the player being able to add things to the horse.
Wouldn't an actual knight beat someone's ass for telling them that? As if the class bred to kill motherfuckers to keep the meek gormless shitstained helpless sheeple faggots from being swordfucked to death and their wives raped would accept the idea that their worth is determined by how well they do a miller's bitchwork
Unlike KCD1, in this game Henry is not a fully developed man with a set of skills and beliefs and integrity; he has somehow emotionally regressed to being a child who does whatever errands are requested of him, without any agency or status of his own to push back with. He just sits there and takes every insult, every snide remark, every challenge to his noble authority. As a page to a lord, Henry *should* be allowed to beat the fuck out of ingrate, mud-covered, resentful peasants. Unfortunately, though, this game is made and funded by the genetic descendants *of* said ingrate, mud-covered, resentful peasants. So their genetic resentments come out in a narrative wherein you play as a low-born scrub who rises through the ranks, only to now be dragged down into the bucket by your fellow crabs. The layers of devs/vavra telling on themselves in KCD2 is astounding.
I don't particularly like GRRM or his writings, but one thing I am always reminded of is his criticism of many fantasy stories where the protagonist can just brazenly talk back at nobles or treat a king or emperor as any other man.
And you know what else, else?
She self-inserted herself as an unbelievably gorgeous distraction for Hans' IRL actor Luke Dale in their weird "Live Action" trailer series:
Shit on KCDII all you want but this revisionist history is bullshit. Mafia and KCDI were great games.
Funny, someone said something similar here(?) and it's painfully true. I've seen so many negroids spend money as soon as they get it and wonder why they're broke. They're a race of melanin infused Bossmanjack's.
Like another said whose name I forget, the people going "oh KCD1 wasn't actually good" are people coping with the sequel being garbage by trying to pretend they never were invested in the series to begin with. While I personally don't think KCD1 is "great," it's definitely good. If everyone immediately 180'd on their opinion of a media because the following work associated with it is dogshit, a lot of great media would be unrightfully clowned on and forgotten. People need to admit it's ok to feel disappointed by a sequel and still think the first media was good (if it was). Fury Road was shit but it doesn't make the original Mad Max shit.
Woman writes that "her man" defends her by threatening extreme violence. Checks out.
The only reason anyone remembers Mafia 3 is for that one retard shitting himself while playing it.
Nobody is talking about Mafia 3 when referring to Mafia. Mafia 3 wasn't even made by Vavra.
Let me guess, you got filtered by the race. Git gud.
Go to the bathroom, you're shitting yourself.
