Recent reviews by Pouya2010

I bought this game thinking I’d be a detective solving a mystery.
3 hours later: I am a professional interior decorator who knows exactly how long it takes to boil a kettle while my wife is unconscious on the floor and Willem Dafoe is kicking my front door down for the 400th time.

The Twelve Minutes Experience:
* The Protagonist: A man who has lived through the same 12 minutes so many times he’s basically a god, yet still gets knocked out by a single punch every single time.
* The Puzzles: Logic dictates that if I hide a knife in the sink, I can save my marriage. (Update: It did not save my marriage, it just made the Cop angrier).
* The Voice Acting: 10/10. I’ve heard Willem Dafoe say "Where is it?!" so many times that I now hear it in my sleep.
* The "Closet" Simulator: I have spent more time in that tiny broom closet than I have in my own real-life living room.
The Progression Loop:
* Try to be romantic.
* Get arrested.
* Try to explain the time loop.
* Get punched in the face.
* Try to drug your wife.
* Realize you are a terrible person.
* Restart.

Without spoiling anything, let’s just say I started the game needing a guide for the puzzles and finished the game needing a guide for my therapist.

If you enjoy domestic disputes, repeating the same conversation until you lose your mind, and a plot twist that will make you want to wash your brain with bleach, this is the game for you.

12/12 — Would get kicked in the ribs by Willem Dafoe again.

I survived the 2018 launch. I remember when there were no NPCs, only the silent screams of a broken physics engine and Todd Howard whispering "It just works" in the distance.

The Fallout 76 Experience Today:
* The Economy: Caps are useless. The real gold is Loose Screws and Adhesive. I have murdered hundreds of mutated creatures just so I could fix my favorite pipe pistol.
* The Community: The friendliest apocalypse ever. A Level 1,000 player will chase you across the map, screaming in voice chat, just to give you 500 bottles of purified water and a legendary shotgun. It’s terrifyingly wholesome.
* The Combat: 50% tactical shooting, 50% praying to the server gods that your hits actually register.
* Building: I spent 4 hours making a beautiful post-apocalyptic mansion, only for a Giant Bat (Scorchedbeast) to show up and turn it into a pile of firewood in 30 seconds.

The Reality:
You start the game wanting to find your father/overseer/purpose.
You end the game living in a wooden shack, wearing a tinfoil hat, selling mutated meat to strangers, and hoarding desk fans like a manic librarian.

Verdict:
It’s a beautiful, glitchy, radioactive mess that I cannot stop playing. Bethesda took a dumpster fire and turned it into a cozy campfire.

11/10 — Would get disconnected from the server right before a Nuke drops again.

The "Never-Ending Viking"

I’ve been playing for 30 hours and I think I’m almost done with the Tutorial.

I bought this game to be a silent shadow in the night.
Instead, I am a 200-pound Viking screaming "ODIN IS WITH US" while burning down a monastery and drop-kicking a priest into a river.

The Valhalla Experience:
* Stealth: Wearing a hood so nobody recognizes you, while riding a giant wolf through the streets of London.
* Combat: You have a "Hidden" blade, but you mostly use it to stab people in the face while they are looking directly at you.
* Exploration: Climbing a mountain for 10 minutes just to find a "Mystery" that turns out to be a man who forgot how to talk to his cat.
* Cultural Activities: Engaging in 9th-century Viking Rap Battles (Flyting) where you insult someone’s mother until they give you charisma points.

The Gameplay Loop:
* Arrive in England.
* Make an alliance with a territory.
* Do 15 hours of quests for them.
* They say "Thank you, Eivor."
* Realize there are 15 more territories left.
* Realize you are now 40 years older in real life and your family has moved out.

Verdict: It’s not a game; it’s a second life. I don't remember what my actual house looks like, but I know exactly where every gold ingot in Mercia is hidden.

10/10 — Would spend 3 hours playing a dice game (Orlog) while the world is ending.

Harry Potter and the Audacity of this 15-Year-Old

I spent 20 years waiting for my Hogwarts acceptance letter. Now that I’m finally here, I realize the wizarding world didn’t need Harry Potter to save it; they just needed a transfer student with zero moral compass and a severe hoarding problem.

Let’s get the technical stuff out of the way: The atmosphere is a masterpiece. Walking through the castle, hearing the swelling score, and seeing the living paintings is genuinely magical. It is the single best recreation of a fictional world I have ever explored. The combat is also surprisingly deep—juggling enemies in the air like defenseless ragdolls never gets old.

However, we need to talk about my character.
My student is a complete sociopath. I walk into people’s private homes while they are eating dinner, cast Revelio to locate their family heirlooms, and loot their chests while maintaining eye contact. Nobody calls the Aurors. Nobody even blinks.
I roam the Scottish Highlands poaching endangered magical beasts "for their own safety," only to shove them into a bag and sell them for upgrades. I cast Avada Kedavra—the literal Killing Curse—in front of my professors, and their only reaction is a polite nod, as if I just answered a math question correctly.

The gameplay loop in a nutshell:
* Spam "Revelio" until your retinas burn with a blue tint.
* Solve a Merlin Trial (and pray you never hear Ignatia Wildsmith speak again).
* Murder a camp of goblins because you need a new scarf.
* Attend one class per semester.

The Verdict:
Despite the hilarious ludonarrative dissonance, this game is a dream come true. It’s a love letter to the fans that lets you be the most overpowered, well-dressed, and terrifying wizard in history.

Recommended? Yes. Just don't think about the ethics too hard.

​Assassin's Creed? No.
Ancient Greek Demigod Simulator? Yes.

​I bought this game to be a stealthy assassin in the shadows.

50 hours later:
I am wearing flaming armor, wielding a poison trident, and I just Sparta-kicked a mercenary off a cliff while riding a unicorn.

​The Odyssey Experience:
​Stealth: Optional. Why stab quietly when you can set the entire fort on fire?
​History: Accurate, until you fight a Minotaur.
​Dialogue: 50% Philosophy, 50% "Malaka."
​Romance: You can flirt with everyone. Men, women, elderly people, probably the horse if the devs had more time.
​Fall Damage: Doesn't exist. You can jump from Mount Olympus and land on your feet like a superhero.

​The Gameplay Loop:
​See a question mark (?) on the map.
​Go to the question mark.
​Kill the Captain. Loot the Chest.
​Realize there are 4,000 more question marks.
​Cry.
​Keep playing.

worst "Assassin" game, best "Wonder Woman/Hercules" simulator ever made.
​10/10 - Would hear "Malaka" for the 10,000th time again .

I accidentally crashed the global economy because I wanted cheaper chairs.

I bought this game thinking I would liberate the working class and build a utopian socialist republic.
20 hours later, I found myself suppressing a revolt with violent force because the Intelligentsia didn't appreciate my 40% tax on grain. I then proceeded to legalize child labor because my coal mines had a shortage of workers and I needed to keep the steel mills running to fund my third war for a rubber plantation in South America.

Gameplay Loop:
* Stare at a line.
* Pray the line goes up.
* The line goes down.
* Panic.
* Realize you forgot to build a paper mill.
* The entire government collapses because bureaucrats have no paper.

This isn't a game. It is a Victorian-era McKinsey consultant simulator. It turns you into a monster who views human lives as mere inputs for the GDP graph.
10/10

I came for the loot, I stayed because a giant robot sat on me.

ARC Raiders is a unique experience that perfectly simulates what it feels like to be a mosquito at a picnic attended by angry, laser-equipped appliances.
The Gameplay Loop:
* Sneak through gorgeous landscapes feeling like a tactical genius.
* See a Drone. "I can take him," you whisper.
* You shoot the Drone.
* The sky turns red. The ground shakes. A machine the size of an apartment complex drops from the heavens and politely deletes you from existence.'

It is chaotic. It is terrifying. It is absolutely beautiful.
I have never stressed so much over a piece of digital scrap metal. My heart rate is up, my survival rate is down, and I am having the time of my life.

10/10. Would get vaporized by a flying toaster again.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Wallet: The Best $0 You'll Ever Spend

Review:
Usually, when I see the words "Free to Play" attached to an open-world RPG, I instinctively clutch my wallet and prepare for a UI that looks like a slot machine. I expect a soul-crushing grind or a texture quality reminiscent of a 2005 potato.
Where Winds Meet has the absolute audacity to be none of those things.
The Physics? Optional.

I have spent approximately 80% of my playtime running up vertical walls, sprinting across water, and generally ignoring Isaac Newton’s laws like they were mere suggestions. The movement is so fluid and satisfying that going back to other games feels like piloting a rusty shopping cart.
The Combat? Cinematic Chaos.

The swordplay makes you feel like the protagonist of a high-budget martial arts movie. Half the time, I have no idea what complex combo I just pulled off—I just pressed some buttons, my character did a backflip, sparks flew, and the enemy looked very impressed before falling over. It makes you look far more skilled than you actually are.

The Verdict:
This game looks like a AAA blockbuster, plays like a dream, and costs absolutely nothing. I keep waiting for the catch. Did I accidentally sign away the rights to my firstborn child in the EULA? Probably.
Is it worth it? Absolutely.
10/10. The only thing "cheap" about this game is the price tag...

The Agonizing, Unforgiving, Brilliant 7/10 Masterpiece

Review:

To review DayZ is, in itself, an act of survival. You must endure hours of hardship, frustration, and existential dread, only to emerge on the other side, blinking into the sun, unsure if you’ve just had a profound experience or wasted 500 hours of your life. The answer, as it turns out, is "Yes."

This is not a "game" in the traditional sense. This is a sociological experiment with a terrible frame rate. It’s a high-stakes, player-driven drama where the zombies are merely the set dressing for the real horror: other people.

The 10/10 High: The Unscripted Masterpiece
There is, quite simply, nothing on the market that generates stories like DayZ. The highs are so astronomically high that they justify all the suffering.

You will remember, for years, the time you and a stranger, both armed only with flashlights, wordlessly teamed up to fight off a horde. You will never forget the 10-minute, high-stakes negotiation with a fully-geared squad that ended in a peaceful trade of beans for ammo. And you will definitely never forget the adrenaline of a 45-minute-long sniper duel in the hills of Chernarus.

These aren't quests. They aren't scripted. They are raw, emergent, human narratives. When DayZ works, it is the most sublime, heart-pounding experience in all of gaming.

The 4/10 Low: The "Jank" Engine
...And then there's the rest of it.

DayZ is a magnificent, beautiful, brilliant idea, held together with duct tape, stubbornness, and code that feels, at times, haunted. For every sublime moment of human drama, there are three moments where you die because your character decided to get stuck in a door-opening animation.

This is a game where your greatest enemies are, in order:

Other players.

Starvation/Dehydration.

A simple ladder.

The inventory system.

A single, very determined zombie who can somehow punch you through a solid brick wall.

You will spend 40 minutes playing "Running Simulator" across a gorgeous, empty landscape, only to find that the can of food you’ve finally located requires a can opener you don’t have. You will engage in melee combat that feels less like a desperate fight for survival and more like two drunkards trying to swat a fly with wet noodles.

The Verdict: A Flawed Classic (7/10)
This is the central paradox of DayZ. It's a game I both love and loathe. It is deeply, fundamentally, and perhaps purposefully, flawed.

A 7/10 is the only honest score. It is not a "perfect" 10, nor is it a "broken" 4. It's a 7, which in school-grading terms, is a "C+" — average, but passing. And that's DayZ: it passes the test of "Is this a unique experience?" with flying colors, but it barely scrapes by on "Is this a functional piece of software?"

It doesn't respect your time. It is obtuse. It is clunky.

And yet... I'm logging in again tonight. I need to get that car battery back to my base.

Final Score: 7/10 — A beautiful, broken, unforgettable disaster.

A Glimpse of the Future, Running on Hardware from the Future

Review:

There is a fine line between "ambitious" and "hubristic," and Cities: Skylines II has built a beautiful, eight-lane superhighway directly over that line... which promptly leads to a 15-frame-per-second traffic jam.

As the heir apparent to the undisputed champion of modern city-builders, CS:II had one job: to be CS:I but bigger, deeper, and better. It is, unequivocally, bigger. The "deeper" and "better" parts, however, seem tobe stuck in simulation-limbo, still waiting for a patch to load.

The Performance: A PowerPoint Presentation with Good Intentions
Let's address the elephant in the room—an elephant so large it has tanked the entire city's performance. This game is not "unoptimized" in the way we've come to expect. It is a work of technical audacity. It seems to believe that every player is running a dual-CPU quantum supercomputer cooled by liquid nitrogen.

My rig, which can comfortably render parallel universes in other AAA titles, sputters, chokes, and begs for mercy at the mere sight of a medium-sized suburb. We were promised a deep simulation; what we received is the world's most demanding slideshow. The game is meticulously simulating the dental records of every citizen, the thread count of their bedsheets, and the existential dread of their cat, all while forgetting that the player needs to be able to move the camera smoothly.

The "Deep" Simulation: A Puddle Pretending to be an Ocean
The core promise was a revolutionary economic and citizen AI. We were told every "cim" would live a "full life." This, it turnses out, is technically true. They are born, they get a job (which they may or may not drive to), they mysteriously generate wealth despite the entire city's economy being on fire, and then they require a hearse... which may or may not arrive before the next ice age.

The economy is a baffling magic show. Industries demand workers, but no one wants to work. You import... something... and export... something else... and your bank account either swells to the size of a small nation's GDP or collapses instantly. It's less "complex economic simulation" and more "pulling a lever on a very confusing slot machine." And the new land value mechanic? A fantastic way to ensure your entire population becomes homeless millionaires overnight.

The Foundation Is Here (The Rest Is Sold Separately)
Make no mistake, the bones of a masterpiece are here. The new road tools are (mostly) a dream. The scale is breathtaking. The potential for creation is vast.

But that's the key word: potential.

This feels like a game built for its next five years of DLC. So many features that were refined to perfection in the original—advanced transit management, specific industry controls, even basic landscaping props—are either missing, broken, or simplified to the point of being abstract art. It's a magnificent, sprawling, half-empty canvas.

The Verdict:

Cities: Skylines II is not a bad game. It is a fantastic game that is trapped inside an unfinished, unoptimized, and frankly, baffling piece of software. It is a blueprint for a 10/10 sequel that was shipped as a 5/10 reality.

It has successfully captured the feeling of being a real-life city mayor: you have grand, beautiful plans, but you're constantly fighting a broken infrastructure, a nonsensical budget, and a population that seems to be operating on a different plane of existence.

It’s an investment in a future promise, not a finished product. We were sold a metropolis; we received a construction site with a fantastic parking lot.