Andrew Tew
2023
Finished 4/2/2024 (45 Hrs)
Grade: B
The story here begins, as it must, with the setting, and there are not enough sterling superlatives to convey how immaculately this world is rendered. I imagine this is as close as one can come to actually inhabiting J.K. Rowling’s iconic Wizarding World. Every stone, statue, and storefront is worth taking a moment to stop and marvel at the detail and care infused into everything from the hallowed halls of Hogwarts to the quaint high street of Hogsmead. What is perhaps even more impressive is that none of the expansive grounds of the castle feel mass produced or repetitive. The castle itself feels real and functional and by the end of the game I felt as though I could make my way from place to place confidently without the aid of the map; in a sense I was no longer the new student from the game’s opening moments. Furthermore, the game never allows this enchanting setting to become stagnant as day and night cycles, along with wind and weather, are added to a beautiful series of seasonal changes that not only make the story feel right at home among the films, but give a sense of time and scope to the narrative.
Likewise the characters that populate this world are colorful and unique with effort made to flesh out their backstories and interactions. The voice acting is done well though the script rarely asks much of its actors. An exception to the overall strong but unchallenging performances can be found in Sebastian Sallow(Alfie Nugent) and the characters involved in his associated quests. By dint of their family tragedy they are allowed a little more freedom to add subtlety and nuance to their performances.
Another particularly strong element of the game is the gameplay itself(arguably the most important factor in determining the success or failure of this manner of enterprise). I am not usually fond of games that rely heavily on the shoulder buttons for combat as we gamers of a casual sort are prone to a quickly fatiguing trigger finger, and it often feels more novel than necessary. The Playstation 5 DualSense’s adaptive triggers, a fascinating feature in and of themselves, exacerbates this issue. However, it was certainly more of an inconvenience in Horizon: Zero Dawn as the trigger had to be held to simulate the pulling of a bow string, or in Spiderman 2018 where it had to be held for web swinging, whereas here it is usually tapped for spell casting and only occasionally held. The hot-button spell-casting is intuitive, reactive, and, with practice, can be managed in real time making it feel as though your young wizard really is gaining mastery over a plethora of spells. The spells themselves fall into several color coded varieties, and the specific spell chosen is largely determined by a player’s personal proclivities with the exceptions of prearranged narrative uses of specific spells, combat challenges, and enemies with color coded shields that require a similarly colored spell to defeat. Also, the potion and combat plant use adds interesting variety to combat, but I often found it unnecessary for success. I was more likely to forget this functionality existed than use it proactively. Ultimately, the game controls are solid and reliable such that I never felt as though a death or failed task was anything but my own fault. One of the weaker elements of the gameplay has to be the finicky nature of the targeting system. On innumerable occasions my target would change at the most inopportune time; this is particularly frustrating since, as previously mentioned, there are instances where a specific spell is required for specific enemies.
Beyond the fighting, which takes up a much smaller portion of the game experience than like games, there is a wealth of things to do and experience. Broom races, puzzles, hidden treasures, Merlin challenges, beast collection, house games, and decorating your own personal room of requirement are just some of the ways that a player can fully immerse themselves in the world. I never feel that a game is more successful than when I find myself simply spending time existing in the world it presents. These moments, where I would simply travel for the sake of exploration in search of new vistas and hamlets, were fulfilling even without the aid of narrative or external motivation. This heightened the role-playing elements of the game, and I found that bringing Benard Flitwick to life was rewarding even without the game’s explicit support.
There are a few matters of preference that do not fall to the level of issues. The first is the lack of utility in the common room. There was probably no more charming setting in all of the game than the Hufflepuff common room, but once the narrative had progressed enough to give access to the room of requirement, there was precious little reason to return there. Also, though narratively explained, the absence of quidditch is palpable as the flying mechanics are so excellently well done that the game misses out on a narrative subplot and game experience that can only be compared to Final Fantasy X and its blitzball seasons. Lastly, as with Ghost of Tsushima, the dialogue choices feel largely irrelevant. With a few key exceptions (mostly revolving around the player’s decision to train in the dark arts) it never felt as though any choice that was made really mattered or was reflected in future interactions with characters. I understand that these choices are so ingrained in this kind of game that their presence is nigh obligatory, but I would rather be spared the effort of considering options that have no bearing on anything.
This brings the conversation to the most disappointing element of work: the story. It is not that it is a complete failure so much that it is particularly weak when compared to the striking success of the game in its other arenas of endeavor. The idea that there is a form of ancient magic to which the protagonist has special access is a predictable and useful trope for the narrative as is the slow reveal of the historical backstory and how good intentions led the antagonist down a dark path. Neither do I begrudge the narrative the utility of allowing each house a momentarily unique quest line before funneling every player into a singular overarching narrative. However, this very utilitarianism of story seems to be its driving force. Though it seems to desire a sense of revelation and mystery, I never felt much in the way of surprise. From the moment I was introduced to Isidora Morganach(Holly J. Barrett), her family tragedy, and her relationship with the Keepers and their philosophy on the use of the ancient magic it was plainly apparent where the story would eventually lead. Now a common tale told solidly should never be mistaken for disaster, but it was difficult not to hope for more considering all things else this text had going for it.
More egregiously for certain is the climax of the adventure. This is a tragic case of missed opportunity and it’s difficult not to compare it to The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, a masterwork. In both instances a significant portion of the narrative is devoted to extended quest lines that represent the protagonist’s developing relationship with secondary characters. In Tears of the Kingdom this is expressed in the form of the representatives of the four major populations of Hyrule. By completing one or all of these quest lines, the player can have a dramatic effect on the climax of the game and is stunningly rewarded for the effort. Similarly, throughout Hogwarts Legacy the player is encouraged to complete three major quest lines each featuring a representative of one of the Hogwarts houses. These quests are narratively provided by the eminently adoptable Poppy Sweeting(Alice Haldane) of Hufflepuff, the incorrigible Sebastian Sallow(Alfie Nugent) of Slitherin, and the indomitable Natsai Onai(Jessica Hayles) of Gryffindor. Each of these narrative tangents is interesting and engaging in its own ways, and it builds the world of the game nicely to see the relationships with these characters grow. Unfortunately, all of these characters are absent from the dramatic conclusion of the story. While Zelda gifts its protagonist a heroic moment wherein all of the friendships, painstakingly crafted throughout the course of the game, culminate in the appearance of, in grand fashion, those dear friends who not only join the battle but have a marked impact on how that battle plays out, Hogwarts Legacy shoots for this same star, a big dramatic moment where the forces of good rally against those of evil, but fails to reach it.
Its chief sin is in utilizing the Hogwarts professors instead of the aforementioned pre- established relationships. It’s not that the professors don’t have characters of their own and aren’t in some manner endearing, however their major role in the narrative focuses on quest giving and skill advancement, so, with the exception of Professor Fig, I never felt any real connection with any of them.
Owing to the fact that this sudden appearance has no precursor in the behavior of the player, the effect ultimately feels hollow, as though it was going to happen no matter how the protagonist interacted with the game to that point. Instead of being a victorious moment, this ends up landing more as a glorified set piece where figures who had no hand in my battle against the evil forces invading Hogwarts upstage dear friends who had suffered by my side through many trials.
I know I have spent an inordinate amount of ink on a mere fraction of the game, but that is how disappointing this moment was when it occurred. It frustrates me even now as I think about what could have been, and, having the greater work with which to compare it on this very issue, know it could have been.
All of this said, the game as a whole is an absolutely wonderful experience. It’s the type of game that will cause a player to linger and refrain from finishing to prolong the hours spent in the iconic locations and colorful environments of J.K. Rowling’s amazing world. A hearty recommendation to lovers of fantasy, whimsy, adventure, and classic stories of good and evil. Worth the time of any gamer of any age.
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