Elden Ring: A Beautiful World That Doesn't Want You In It

Let me get one thing out of the way up front: I heard the hype. Everyone has. Game of the Year, 30 million copies sold, the game that supposedly redefined the open world. I didn't read a single review, didn't watch a video, didn't talk to a soul about it — I wanted to walk into the Lands Between the way a normal person buying it on launch day would, with nothing but "I heard it's good." This is a gorgeous, atmospheric, technically stunning game that I am not having fun playing. Both of those things are true at once, and that tension is the whole review.

Woke: 0.1

Nothing preached at me here. Elden Ring is a dark fantasy world that is entirely about being a dark fantasy world — no lectures, no soapbox, no agenda wedged into the narrative. On the actual content, this is about as clean as it gets. The one thing I'll flag so you can weigh it yourself: the character creator labels its two body presets "A" and "B" rather than male and female. It's a small concession to modern sensibilities that doesn't impact gameplay or story in any meaningful way, but it's there, and transparency is what we do. Beyond that, this game has zero interest in anything other than being a punishing dark fantasy epic.

Gameplay: 7.0

This is where the game and I parted ways. When Elden Ring works, you can feel the quality underneath it — the weight of the sword, the deliberate timing, the sense that every enemy is a puzzle. But the game refuses to tell you anything, and as a newcomer that curdled into frustration fast. There are no quest markers, no explanation of what's driving my character, no signposting for where I'm meant to go versus where I'll be obliterated. I wandered into a golden knight on horseback who erased me in seconds with no warning I wasn't supposed to be there yet. I spent thirty minutes on Margit, the Fell Omen — the wall at the first castle — and got him to roughly three-quarters health before he put my "foolish ambitions to rest," to quote the game's own smug caption over my corpse. The combat mechanics are undeniably tight, and the open world gives you freedom to explore and level elsewhere when you hit a wall. But a game that withholds its own instruction manual and calls that respect is asking for a patience I'm not sure it earns.

Story: 5.5

I genuinely could not tell you what I'm doing or why. Something shattered, the world is "wrong" now, a queen is nowhere to be found, and the handful of NPCs I met spoke in riddles that grounded exactly none of it. I understand this is deliberate — the cryptic, piece-it-together approach is a FromSoftware signature. But "deliberately obscure" and "gave me a reason to care" are not the same thing, and in my time with it, the game never handed me the second one. Compare it to Sekiro, which I've played: that game was hard too, but I always knew who I was and why I was swinging. Here, my motivation was "the game wants me to walk toward the thing." George R.R. Martin's worldbuilding is supposedly woven into the lore, but you'd need a wiki and forty hours to find it.

Graphics: 9.0

No complaints here — the game is a stunner. That first walk out into the open world with the glowing Erdtree splitting the horizon is a genuine drop-your-controller moment, and the ruined gothic sprawl of Stormveil Castle against a storm sky is the kind of thing you stop and stare at. For a PS4 title in 2022, this is pushing the hardware beautifully. The framerate held steady through everything I threw at it, no hitching, no drama. The art direction is doing an enormous amount of the heavy lifting keeping me here, and it nearly worked.

Audio: 9.0

Headphones on, and the world came alive. The score knows when to swell for a fight and when to leave you in uneasy quiet, the combat has a satisfying physical crunch to it, and the ambient dread of just existing in this place is dialed in perfectly. No notes — this is elite work and it deserves the credit even in a review this mixed.

Replayability: 8.0

Elden Ring asks you to invest — to bang your head against a wall, over and over, on the promise that mastery is its own reward somewhere down the road. For the players who love that climb, I completely understand why this is a hundred-plus-hour obsession they return to forever. Multiple build paths, hidden areas, and alternate endings give this game staggering depth for those who connect with it. For me, right now, the pull to push through the frustration to reach the good part isn't strong enough to beat out the fifty other games waiting that will respect my time more directly. That's a me-and-my-shelf verdict, not a claim the depth isn't there.

Elden Ring is a beautiful, brilliantly crafted game that frustrates. It looks incredible, it sounds incredible, and its refusal to hold your hand is clearly a feature for the millions who adore it. But as a newcomer with a mountain of other games calling, I found my time with it was more punishing than rewarding, more opaque than intriguing, and I struggled to find the reason to keep climbing. If you're a Souls veteran, you already own this and you already love it. If you're like me — curious, hyped, but new — go in with your eyes open about what it's going to ask of you. The craftsmanship is undeniable; whether it respects your time is a question only your patience can answer.