![]() ![]() Why? Because they break, and I don’t want to retreat to a workbench every hour to fix them. I carry roughly 20 to 30 weapons with me at any given time. Your character ends up being a pack mule, stuffed to the hilt with weapons, armors, and items aplenty. In every Fallout game from Bethesda, the biggest battle for me isn’t against a super mutant or any creature kissed by radiation – it’s being over-encumbered. Even though Breath of the Wild is heralded as a huge success, it could have been an even bigger juggernaut if the weapons didn’t break. I didn’t let this singular frustration kill the experience for me, but it was a game-ending issue for other players, and not just a few of them. Every offensive tool Link wielded was apparently made of balsa wood or glass, breaking far too quickly. ![]() I loved the puzzles, world, story, and action, yet despised its approach to weapons. The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild was my runaway pick for Game of the Year in 2017. Time in menus (which I’m going to try to brand as TiM) is an issue we need to focus on more, and I hope developers are looking for ways to reduce it. That battle, which should (and could) be epic, deflates as a result. ![]() As soon as the weapon screen appears, the game moves from action to mundane resource management. When I’m in situations where I may potentially lose a valuable armament, I instinctually jump into a menu to see what else I can use. As harrowing as these moments are, intensity and excitement are joined by just as much stress and frustration. Thoughts along the lines of “just one more shot” sometimes backfire. Watching a durability meter deplete adds intensity and excitement to battles, not to mention an internal debate over whether that weapon should continue being used in that instant. I’ve done this in many games, and while I don’t mind using a weapon I legitimately enjoy over and over again, I understand why developers would want players to see more of the game, which includes experimenting with the other weapons. If weapons don’t degrade, there’s a chance a player may rely too heavily on the same one. In these battles, I not only have to worry about ammo conservation, but also making sure my armament can hold up long enough to fire those rounds. In the next encounter against a similarly sized zombie swarm, my depleted arsenal may force me to pick them off one by one with a pistol as I backpedal to safety. In one conflict, I may have substantial heavily artillery that allows me to stand my ground and mow down dozens of zombies with ease. If handled properly, weapon durability adds a survival element to an experience that can take us out of our comfort zones. I understand why developers incorporate breakable weapons into games. Yet even if I stay on top of the durability, I develop a strange connection to the game I spend more time in menus, adopt a strange hoarder-like mentality, and take a conservative approach to using elite gear for fear of not having it when I really need it. Yes, I fully realize I am to blame when a weapon breaks in my hands – especially if the game allows me to monitor its degradation as I play. ![]() Neglecting to keep an eye on a sword’s durability can lead to disaster, or at least a panicked moment of diving into a satchel to see if I have anything useful in reserve. CRACK! CLANG! SNAP! I cringe whenever I hear these sounds in a game with breakable weapons. ![]()
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