Eternal Strands review

I have just clambered to the top of a beautiful ivy-covered tower so I can get a better look at my surroundings, a stunning vista bathed in the warm light of a perfect summer's day. Fiery monsters have torched a patch of earth in the distance, setting off a few volatile plants nearby. I should investigate that. Treasure glints on a rocky outcrop, goading me to try and reach it. I should go grab that, too. As I take in this gorgeous scene a huge bird flies overhead, casting its shadow across battered stone and ruined architecture. I bet I could take it on if I tried.

In Eternal Strands everything I can see is part of a new challenge: Something to be scaled, scouted, or slashed at.

I don't even have to waste my time trekking across boring expanses of open field to reach the things that have caught my eye, as this compact game is broken up into a series of carefully crafted areas attached to a homely hub. It reminds me of Monster Hunter more than a seamless but flabby open world sprawl of #content. Some regions invite me to run across rooftops, while others want me to dive into the bowels of the earth. Along the way I stumble upon fragments of stories in these abandoned places, told through lingering magical mishaps, forgotten statues, and dusty meeting rooms.

Oria, my group's leader, is constantly watching over me via a magical video link, and her voice in my ear spins the details I stumble upon into meaningful quests; Eternal Strand's story covers everything from sweet personal relationships to deadly hordes of sealed horrors. Her vast experience in the scouting role I'm currently occupying makes her a little intimidating—and also makes her softer, slightly awkward pep talk moments frankly adorable. She wants to connect and care, she's just not quite sure how to do it.

Everyone else in camp is just as layered. The quartermaster knew what everyone needed before they did, and was on top of our supplies and logistics. But what did she want? What would help her? Well. I've never had an enthusiastic conversation about shelving before, but now I have, and I kept going back to her in the hope of having another.

These missions often overlap in some convenient way, so even though one character's optional request to collect glowing plants at night didn't exactly have me rushing out of camp, I ended up easily gathering everything I needed anyway when I later found myself in the same area as part of a more exciting expedition.

The weather, shown on a quick summary screen for a map zone before heading out, matters as much as the time of day. Huge magical swings in temperature turn lush greens into frosty blues, suffocate an area in a shimmering heat haze, or leave behind a choking miasma. The climate faced is fixed for the duration of the expedition, and deliberately extreme and unnatural—another mystery to unravel in this strange land. These conditions add new hazards to familiar places; a drought making fire dangerously easy to spread, miasma forcing me to choose between a detour or a painful dash through the haze. It's enough to make me question whether I really want to take on ice monsters when there's a chill in the air, but never such a dramatic shift I feel the need to sleep the days away in my tent back at camp until I get the "right" sort of weather.

Whatever the temperature, I have to use my small but versatile pool of fire and ice abilities well to survive. Some of their uses are obvious—encasing an enemy in ice gives me time to get some free hits in, setting fire to fur and foliage will cause extra damage over time—but right from the start there's always something more cunning and creative I can do with these powers. Huge chasms can be traversed with improvised icy bridges if I'm quick and brave enough. Wooden floors can be set alight, collapsing underneath the enemy chasing after me. It feels natural and improvised. When I tried things in Eternal Strands it consistently delivered moments of "Wow, I can't believe that worked," rather than smacking me in the face with artificial setups screaming "Please notice the one conspicuously flammable thing in the cold area." Here, pretty much everything's flammable if I try hard enough.

Complementing elemental magic are some fun telekinetic powers, urging me to tear my surroundings to pieces. I love that the quickest way to open a massive door is to whack it really hard with something explosive, and how a bench or table can become an offensive weapon to hurl at my enemies. The only thing better than smashing a smaller monster with furniture is to pick it up and toss it into a chasm myself, although that does mean missing out on the materials they drop when defeated.

I do really need those if I'm going to craft myself some new armour and weapons from the designs I pick up while exploring. Instead of this being a boring chore where I go farm a laundry list of specific items and curse enemies for being stingy with their drops, all materials are split into broader types, with the game only really caring that I've got enough of whatever categories it requires. The individual materials I select do however have a huge impact on the strengths and weaknesses of these creations; thick fur helping insulate against the cold, rare ores leaving me with sturdier armour. The choices I make are reflected in my equipment's look too, my own efforts and experiences weaved into everything I wear.

This customisation's balanced just right, with the min-maxing side of forging present but very much optional. I'm definitely more powerful if I bother to take a loadout suited to the enemies I'm fighting, and I can take more damage if I make my armour out of gold-bordered rarities, but I don't need to. There was never a moment where I got smashed to bits by a gigantic monster and thought I had to give up and go gather five shiny rocks and some thread instead of fighting with more skill next time.

I was having too much fun in these epic encounters to take a farming break anyway. Much like running into a large wyvern in Monster Hunter or a drake in Dragon's Dogma 2, these standout foes take serious effort to bring down. They're all so large they can be clambered on, and I needed to to expose their weak points, break their armour, or damage specific body parts, preventing some attacks from landing with the intensity they did before.

Sometimes I need to raise my shield before nimbly rolling in for a quick swipe of my sword. Other times I'm hitting aerial opponents with arrows from a high vantage point, maximising my damage from afar. And then there are moments where only swinging a huge lump of sharp metal around will do, monsters visibly wincing under the force of these slow, weighty, blows. I only have three weapon types to smoothly switch between in battle, but they all fill a unique role and significantly alter my tactics and playstyle—and that's before I start considering any of them elemental special attacks I've crafted into them. From beginning to end taking on these massive monsters always felt like a real treat, the unique materials and new abilities awarded afterwards just the icing on an already enjoyable cake.

Open-ended adventure games often leave me resenting their endless hamster wheels, smothering me with busywork for busywork's sake. But the tight focus here, always offering specific tasks in well-defined locations that naturally led from one plot point to the next, meant I honestly didn't want the game to end. 20-ish hours and the chance to go back and mop up any unfinished quests, or just go out on another walk, wasn't enough. I wanted to spend evenings chatting with the cast. I wanted to pit myself against its enormous beasts one more time. I wanted to climb every tall tree and explore every deep cavern.

Eternal Strands dared to give me less, and because of that I only ended up loving it more.