20 Hours In KCD 2 Is a Systems-Driven Sandbox Masterpiece
Kingdom Come: Deliverance 2 is a chaotic engine of unpredictability and consequence and I say that as high praise. The game thrives on turning your poor decisions into memorable chaos, delivering Stalker-like weirdness in a medieval, systems-driven sandbox.
I’ve fought Cumans over wardrobe choices, seen my meticulously crafted battle strategies thwarted by wandering NPC caravans, and found myself in snowballing brawls as bystanders jumped in to help or hinder me. I’ve cursed my lack of save-game potions countless times, yet every mishap has been wildly entertaining. The interplay of unpredictable variables creates emergent adventures that feel endlessly rewarding.
With around 20 hours under my belt, I’ve barely scratched the surface of the main quest. Instead, I’ve been absorbed in experimenting with the world, marveling at the chaos it spits back in response. It’s an exhilarating, systems-driven sandbox unlike anything else.
Unforeseen Consequences
I can’t tell you much about Kingdom Come: Deliverance 2’s plot, Fraser has already covered its “Kevin and Perry Go Bohemia” narrative in his preview last August, but I’ve got plenty of chaotic tales to share. If you’re the type who thrives on everything going off the rails, you’re in for a treat.
Take my run-in with the Cumans, for example. Early on, one of the quests has you kick off a bar fight in the starting town of Trosky. Fast forward about 10 hours: I’d earned some coin and acquired a dashing set of noble clothes (procured by thoroughly walloping a wandering aristocrat). Feeling a pang of guilt, I decided to head back to the innkeeper and offer an apology. Surely, my refined appearance would smooth things over, appearance matters a lot in KCD2. The same people who sneer at you in beggar’s rags will fawn over you when you roll up in fine clothes and jewelry.
I was right, and the innkeeper, whose voice actor speaks with the staccato emphasis of an M1 Garand, forgave me. Her condition? I had to help her by serving a table of intimidating Cuman mercenaries who had stopped in for dinner. Simple enough, I thought, but things quickly went sideways. Another diner took offense at the presence of foreign soldiers, and my frilly pantaloons severely undercut my ability to intimidate him (seriously, my intimidate roll was abysmal).
I couldn’t dissuade him from starting trouble, leaving me and a few farmers dressed in my very fashionable spectacles and “jester’s hose” to square off against four heavily armed and armored Cuman warriors. Unsurprisingly, it went horribly. Making matters worse, I had ditched my only decent armor earlier because it was damaged and too heavy to carry. I couldn’t afford the time to fetch better gear either, since the Cumans would eventually leave out of impatience.
Left with no other option, I sided with the Cumans. They were more than capable of handling the angry farmers on their own. Problem solved. Sorry, peasants.
I found myself locked into a specific course of action, shaped by a series of seemingly unrelated choices. Abandoning my armor, stealing a noble’s clothes, attempting to repair my reputation in Trosky by currying favor with the innkeeper, and leaving myself ill-equipped to intimidate or overpower a hostile opponent all culminated in one inevitable conclusion: siding with a band of invading mercenaries over the townsfolk. Practical decisions leading to moral dilemmas.
For some players, this might sound like a nightmare scenario. For me and those who enjoy watching their choices spiral into chaos, it’s exactly why we play these kinds of games. KCD2 thrives on this kind of unpredictability, and its interconnected systems deliver these moments in abundance.
It’s not all bad, it can be downright ridiculous at times. Take my earlier attempt to stealthily clear out a bandit camp, only to stand there dumbfounded as a massive caravan rolled in and obliterated everyone for me. Or the time I squared off with a highway bandit and things were going well until a passing huntsman decided to “help.” His aim was terrible, though, and he ended up pelting my shins with arrows while I desperately tried to maneuver my opponent between us. I failed, died, and, having run out of the save-game potions long before, lost about 20 minutes of progress.
Moments like these give KCD2 a vibe reminiscent of the best parts of Stalker. The only lingering question is whether that same chaotic, consequence-driven energy carries over into the game’s narrative. Will Henry’s story feel as personal and reactive as the moment-to-moment chaos I’ve experienced? I can’t say just yet. Maybe after another 20 hours, I’ll finally stop poking at the systems long enough to find out.
