The Witcher 3: Hearts of Stone is at once a horror story, a romance, a character study, and a classic fairy tale. And somehow, these disparate parts mesh to form a cohesive whole.
This is CD Projekt Red's first paid expansion for its masterful RPG, and it fits seamlessly into Geralt's narrative. Although it's meant for late-game characters around level 30, it's available at any point in your playthrough. And like many experiences in The Witcher 3, the expansion's main draw is its twisting storylines and vivid inhabitants.
It's difficult to talk about these elements without ruining the experience as a whole. CD Projekt Red presents its own dark take on weddings, haunted houses, and the story of the prince and the frog. Quests never resolved how I expected them to, and seldom how I hoped. They even ventured into metaphysical environments, and gorgeous as they were, there's a haunting presence to them. Hearts of Stone runs the gamut of fantasy tropes, but subverts every one. It's this willingness to take successful risks that sets these quests, and the story they compose, apart.
Many of these storylines trace back to one man: Gaunter O'Dimm. Geralt calls him the Merchant of Mirrors. Others know him as the Man of Glass. He's a character who makes you feel uneasy with a glance and, even when he seemed relaxed, I always had my thumb hovering over the attack button. You get the sense he knows far more than he lets on. Hearts of Stone paints him in a complex fashion, melding his odd behavior with a strange charm, thereby creating someone who doesn't fit any archetype.
There are more than cobwebs inside this manor.
But there are good people in the Northern Kingdoms, too, however few and far between. Hearts of Stone reintroduces Shani, the medic from Oxenfurt, who reprises her role from the original Witcher. She's my favorite character here, and maybe in all of The Witcher 3. She's equal parts charming, caring, and clever. In fact, Shani's much smarter than Geralt: your responses have a time limit more frequently when speaking with her. She's quick witted, but only gives that away the more time you spend with her.
Shani's mother wants her to find a husband, but she's too busy with her own medical practice, and doesn't feel the need for a serious partner. While many women in The Witcher 3 play minor roles, often supplemental to men, Shani is a vivid character in her own right. She's a foil to both Geralt and the dark world he lives in--maybe that's the reason for their romantic past.
If you don't remember, or weren't aware of that history from the earlier games, it doesn't matter too much. CD Projekt Red conveys it with expert dialogue and subtle visual cues. Pay attention to Shani's shuffling feet. Listen as Geralt softens the edge in his voice. It's not often you can read into animated characters' body language, but here, Shani's lingering glances and Geralt's looser gestures tell a story in themselves. Shani even knows how many scars Geralt accumulated since last they met--27, to be exact. Once again, CD Projekt Red excels at capturing the details.
While many women in The Witcher 3 play minor roles, often supplemental to men, Shani is a vivid character in her own.
In between these living stories and fluid narratives are engrossing quests. I planned a heist, recruited team members, and cringed as my plan fell apart. I attended a wedding straight out of a sitcom, complete with praiseworthy comedy and awkward scenarios. Even in the absence of combat and supernatural catastrophes, Hearts of Stone pulled me through with expert pacing--for the most part.
CD Projekt Red implemented several mini-games throughout this expansion, most of which were tracking sections. Geralt's Witcher senses usually lead you only a few feet away to a breakable wall, or hidden object, that seem placed only to remind you of the man's superhuman detective abilities.
There's also an infuriating section that places you in a muddy pen as you try to herd pigs toward their respective troughs. The activity alone breaks the overall immersion, but Geralt's wide turns double the annoyance factor.
Geralt's not exactly himself in this scene.
But these activities are negligible in the grand scheme of things. When combat does rear its head, there are unique enemies and tenacious boss battles to keep the dynamism alive. In fact, I saw three such enemies within the first two hours of Hearts of Stone. I fought a mage, a headless swordsman, and a hideous beast much larger than Geralt, with more complex attack patterns than many of the Northern Kingdoms' other denizens.
There's another enemy later, in a graveyard outside an abandoned manor, whose character design echoes the horrors of Pan's Labyrinth. It's grotesque. It's terrifying. Its abilities make for one of the more grueling encounters I've faced as Geralt. Defeating that thing was both a triumph and a relief.
The Witcher 3's first paid expansion is well worth the return to the Northern Kingdoms.
For all of its storylines, and all of its varied combat, Hearts of Stone houses deeper themes. Matters of regret, apathy, death, and the passage of time pervade every character's motivations. One woman laments the monster her husband turned out to be. "I've stopped wondering what you feel about me anymore," she says. "I don't feel anything," he replies. And in an intimate moment between Shani and Geralt, the former asks the Witcher if he worries about never falling in love. The response is up to you.
This thematic pulse elevates an already great batch of content. Hearts of Stone feels just as much a part of the narrative as any of the main game's quest lines, but stands on its own as a memorable adventure. It may have its negative moments and the pacing may be broken at certain intervals, but The Witcher 3's first paid expansion is well worth the return to the Northern Kingdoms.
There's a point when a character whistles the boss fight music. And just when you're sure one such encounter is coming, he walks away to that haunting tune, without so much as a fistfight. This is what Hearts of Stone does best. It takes our expectations and runs with them.
Of all the things Civilization: Beyond Earth's first expansion accomplishes, the greatest is this: it sorts through centuries of war, politics, and future technology, to reveal the personalities behind it all.
Developer Firaxis Games has a reputation for making bold expansions, and Rising Tide is no exception. It doesn't just add content to the sci-fi strategy game--it reimagines certain systems altogether, and brings real characters into the formula. And despite a few cloying issues, Rising Tide's changes make for a more balanced, and more memorable, empire-building experience.
As in Beyond Earth, Rising Tide puts you in the throne--or council chamber, depending on the leader you choose to be--as you guide your civilization to victory on alien planets in the distant future. The chariots and compound bows of human history are absent. This is a world of exo suits, plasma weapons, and sterile, bulbous architecture. There's a sense of otherworldliness here that earlier Civilizations don't contain.
Although there are still five paths to victory, both peaceful and otherwise, the methods of reaching them have changed. For the first time, Rising Tide lets you colonize the seas. So while naval combat and exploration are still key factors in any smart ruler's strategy, this expansion brings cities--complete with all their commerce, resources, and hardworking people--into the waves.
The Chungsu faction is one of the few that can land on water immediately.
This feature would be novel enough on its own, but Firaxis wasn't content to duplicate land tactics in a maritime setting. In Rising Tide, ocean cities can move. It takes a few turns, depending on the city's production rating, but these floating metropolises can travel across water, one hexagonal tile at a time, in any direction you choose.
The result is a dichotomy between your thinking on land and your approach at sea. While continental settlements still grow out from the center, forming clean circles of multicolored tiles, oceanic territories take on a snaking, amorphous shape in their search for better resources.
And because citizens can still only work tiles within three spaces of the nearest city, building a seafaring province can mean dealing with loss: short term gains are far more valuable at sea, where resources are ephemeral, and cities might abandon farms, generators, and academies in an instant.
Floating metropolises can travel across water, one hexagonal tile at a time, in any direction you choose.
My first floating city, for example, landed in the center of a great lake. But as the years passed and my people developed new technologies, I moved it up along the coast, where clusters of Firaxite deposits increased my naval unit production.
Then, 150 turns later, with my Deep Space Telescope sailing through the stars, I prepped my civilization for the final stages of a Contact victory. I moved my city back down along the coast, toward a more defensible area with mountains at my back. I knew enemy armies would come with advanced weapons of their own, and ocean cities have lower defense ratings than their land counterparts. Holding out for victory while I built my alien beacon would not be easy.
And just like that, my prediction rang true: all of my allies declared war. One by one, I watched my longstanding relationships deteriorate through Rising Tide's new diplomacy system, a feature which, in the grand scheme of things, is just as significant as sea colonization.
Investing in new personality traits can result in a variety of perks.
Through this new diplomacy system, you strike international deals, manage alliances, and change your own leader's personality traits by spending diplomatic capital. Much like culture or energy, this resource accumulates through various perks and buildings, as well as through deals with other leaders.
Those figures will, in turn, come to fear or respect you. Build up a big enough army and they'll accept your deals in awe. But manage your civ with a wise leader's acumen, and surrounding dignitaries will join out of admiration. This leads to alliances, new relationships to leverage, and easier deal propositions. If a leader doesn't have a strong opinion either way, they'll be harder to sway.
This diplomacy system remedies several complaints I had with Beyond Earth. First, it adds dynamism to otherwise boring mid-game turns. Beyond Earth is a more nuanced experience throughout, and managing deals and personality traits in pursuit of perks creates more involved playthroughs.
But this feature does something more: it injects personality into Beyond Earth. The leaders develop unique idiosyncrasies, growing into angry tyrants or peaceful visionaries. They turn jealous when I make deals with their enemies. They scoff when I refuse their own. And after a while, I developed opinions about each one of them. I respected Daoming. I ignored Duncan Hughes. I despised Rejinaldo.
Leaders develop unique idiosyncrasies, growing into angry tyrants or peaceful visionaries. They turn jealous when I make deals with their enemies. They scoff when I refuse their own.
By offering insight into my strategy, and reacting based on existing relationships, these commanders exhibit believable choices at the futuristic round table. I considered interactions in a more careful manner, afraid I might tip the scales if I pushed too hard.
However, it's often unclear why a ruler approves or disapproves of your actions. This is important, because it's these opinions that affect their standing toward your nation. At one point, Rejinaldo, Brasilia's leader, laughed at my production rates, only to compliment them once I raised them a mere two points higher. It seemed opaque, and Rising Tide didn't offer any quantitative explanation for the man's change of heart. Less robotic AI is welcome, but less logical characters is a step too far.
There can also be an overload of information farther into games, when every ruler sounds off on each move I make. The constant chime sometimes diminishes much of the impact these comments had in the first place.
The new primordial biome hosts its own variety of dangers.
But these characters still feel genuine. This isn't the level of characterization you'll find in a role-playing game or story driven experience, but when Brasilia's hardheaded leader formed a blockade across my main trade route, refused any offer of peace, and picked off my workers one by one, he elicited real anger from me. It wasn't frustration with the game, or even with "that militaristic tyrant who's disrupting my energy supply." It was frustration with Rejinaldo.
Rising Tide brings other content to Beyond Earth as well, from new factions to new planet types. But these additions pale in comparison to the systemic changes Firaxis has made. There are bothersome issues with the new diplomacy approach, and some of these mechanics are too obfuscated to call excellent. But Rising Tide encourages new ways of thinking, and lends character to a very impersonal subject. That old Civilization mantra still echoes, just like it used to: One more turn.
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