Instead, it felt like a combination of FromSoft's curated arsenal mingled with the breadth of a cluttered antique shop. The myriad of choices never felt overwhelming they weren't like Nioh, with its rainbows of stats and rarities. Any enemies caught in its spray melted with a blue fizz, and let me tell you, I used it heaps to get through tricky encounters. In the end, I settled for an arm that could fire blue corrosive goop either in a wide arc or in a straight line. Pressing the left trigger hurtled a timed explosive mine into a robot's chest, but I could open up a menu and swap out my cannon for tonnes of other things. Then you've got Chalamet's left arm, home to a cannon by default in the demo. Many, or all, capable of being snapped together somehow. A chef's cleaver, a police batons, iron slates to sling onto your shoulder, clubs, hammers. While starting at the third chapter meant a lot of the game's prior context was lost on me, it only took me opening a menu and messing about in the weapons section to realise just how bonkers things could get.
Where Lies Of P has Bloodborne pipped is in its sheer wealth of of things to equip or wear or combine. Not just a fair crack, but a real go, actually.
No it probably won't reach Bloodborne's heights, but it's certainly giving it a fair crack. Super Bloodborne, sure, but I began to approach them with an "eh, it's still a cool idea" attitude, and I think that was helped by my greater appreciation of the game's dystopian Pinnochioverse.
All bloodborne enemies windows#
Occasionally I bumped into the silhouettes of old ladies through windows who asked me to fetch stuff, as did smartly dressed lads in top hats. While I wouldn't say the portions of the concert hall or the houses were as intricately designed as FromSoftware's offerings (a tall order), I'd say Lies Of P's variety of metal puppets, swinging bells and crumbled beams - and the push it gave me to prod basements or rooftops - had me eager to explore every inch of the map. I'd need to sever these connection first if I wanted to survive. In the concert hall, opera spiders wove threads to empower armies of littler creatures. Suicidal dolls would crash through glass and sprint at me, flashes of red growing ever faster as they closed in. Distorted babies would wail and nip at my ankles. The moment they spotted me they held their brooms aloft, and only when their brooms whirred to life did I realise there were horrid grins on their faces. I remember entering the quiet of a house and seeing these robotic old ladies, their bodies juddering as they paced to and fro. Both slices of the Gamescom demo, though, ushered in a mixture of the nastiest, creepiest puppet contraptions, and it showed the game really is home home to a deranged set of clockwork bastards. Lies Of P's first demo had a lot of boring fodder like dogs, and mateys who could barely scratch you. To summarise: it was a traumatic experience and my hands were shaking when I got up and left. The second popped me into chapter 6, where I entered the bright glow of a beautiful concert hall, home to singers-who-are-somehow-also-mechanical-spiders and a boss fight against machine royalty. The first dumped me into chapter 3, where I made my way through a horrible town and the sorts of old houses with dark wood grain stairs and rich mahogany desks. My demo, like many at this year's show, was split into two bits. Having clacked through some dingy streets, fired blue gloop from my arm, and fought the literal King Of Puppets, I've come to realise it has the potential to be a magnificent Soulslike in its own right. At the time I thought it was a bit of a duff pretender, honestly.īut a good chunk of time with it at this year's Gamescom has swivelled my head back in its direction. I felt it was so close, too close, to Bloodborne in everything from the cadence of the Chalamet puppet's jog, to the "duhhnng" noise of pickups, and the gothic sheen of its streets. I wasn't too hot on Lies Of P when I played its first demo way back when.
0 kommentar(er)
