Nothing about Crimson Desert does what you expect it to. Save and reload your game, and you'll beam down in a totally different spot. Shining your lantern directly in people's eyes is an acceptable way to start a conversation, but gently bumping someone on the street will have you branded the town villain. Save one slave in the first three hours, and you'll be prompted to single-handedly clear a 300-person bandit encampment immediately after.
None of this makes sense to me, yet here in Kliff MacDuff's wild world, it's the norm. I'll be honest: after 20 hours in the game I still have no idea what is going on or why I should care about it, but I've been having a blast simply wandering into trouble and strong-arming my way through the consequences.
I didn't start to enjoy the disjointed, nonsensical chaos of Crimson Desert until I fought my way through hordes of bandits with little more than a toothpick in hand, a pot on my head, and stubbornness in my heart – and now, despite every issue outlined in our Crimson Desert review, I've grudgingly fallen in love with it.
