QCF: Dragon's Dogma II

he ever-growing presence of video games in pop culture meant that it was only inevitable for it to be a hacky trope in television melodramas and sitcoms. And dammit all if the interpretation of gaming on the silver screen isn’t just some of the cringiest shit any time they’re presented, or in some bizarre instances, how people play them (Tony Soprano playing Mario Kart 64 with one-hand lives rent-free in my head.) Why the random contrast though you ask? Well, one of the more frequent genres used for the trope is the fantasy RPG, often for an MMO sort of deal that’s supposed to espouse some sort of moral about teamwork or the dangers of game addiction. It’s common to see the settings for these fictional games that’s used for the TV show plots have some of the most superficial presentations or gameplay mechanics ever seen in games, and I won’t make any bones about it—Dragon’s Dogma II from Capcom looks and plays like one of the most egregious parodies of this concept…

I mean, the notion isn’t entirely a negative thing—there are instances of moment-to-moment gameplay in which Dragon’s Dogma II delivers this sort of absurdity that you’d either hear from another kid spouting off tall tales on the playground from your youth or see in a TGIF sitcom with the most slapdash workshop of combat mechanics. The naked truth of Dragon’s Dogma II being an unabashed remake trying to disguise itself as a full-fledged sequel aside, the potential chaos that you can derive from the surprisingly deep combat and vocation system is where the game really shines, even if it is a glorified “do-over.”

It’s just too bad the game has no real-world or personality to compliment the kind of excitement the action offers. Aside from a few novel twists on the tired medieval setup, Dragon’s Dogma II delivers fewer peaks than valleys, made all the more worse by the world-building in between. Just because Skyrim isn’t crowding it’s release window, doesn’t mean there haven’t been several other titles in recent memory like Final Fantasy XVI or Elden Ring that have done the premise significantly better.

Despite the long doldrums that lie ahead, the adventure doesn’t waste any time in getting things moving in the early goings of the Capcom sequel as you’re plunged into the role of the Arisen—the ultimate cipher protagonist who’s prophesized to lead the kingdom of Vermund, and the only one destined to slay the proverbial dragon itself. Holding the ordained title of Arisen isn’t without its cost as the royal regent that’s been reigning over the kingdom during your absence isn’t keen on giving back the monarchy to you, plotting a discreet coup d'état via exile to a prison isle where convicts are sentenced to endlessly mine through never-ending rubble instead.

Cue the McGuffin-sized griffin to soar you away towards the kingdom’s capital, where you’ll be aided through the silent support of Arisen loyalists who wish to see you claim your rightful throne, and slay that damn dragon that’s been doggin’ on everyone. It’s here where the iconic gimmicks from the previous entry, the Pawn mechanics and vocation system get introduced, and it’s a rare twist on the phrase “if it ain’t broke don’t fix it” because hoo-boy was the execution of these concepts just plain rough the first time around, yet drastically more competent and refined in the 2024 return to Vermund.

Seriously—they really are the diamond eyes that hold the face of Dragon’s Dogma II together.

The setup for the Arisen is a cipher-made template where players will not only have the opportunity to customize the build of the dragon slayer of prophecy but they’ll also be able to craft their own personal “Pawn” as well.  Every victory nets you three types of rewards; Experience Points, Vocation Points, and Rift Crystals (more to come on that last currency later.) Base stats are founded on Strength, Defense, Magick, and supplemental modifiers around those three main rubrics, with Vocations layering their respective modifiers on top. In addition to the stat variances, Vocation offers unique skills that range anywhere from passive perks to combat skills that can play into a number of strategies for the aggressive or supportive-minded player, and that is where the Pawns really come into play.

A Pawn in so many words is an indentured adventurer who’s AI-controlled and ardently loyal to your cause, and every player will be given their own Pawn to design through the same character-building system, complete with the same freedoms and flexibilities that’s available to player builds. Like more than just the usual appearance sliders and aesthetic tattoos — every player stat and vocation is also up for management, giving you access to a completely new layer of offense or support that can either compliment your playstyle, or act as an extension of your preferred combat methods to stack your output to obnoxious levels.  Building the best dynamic duo is only the beginning though, as players will have room for two more Pawns to round out their party, and will have the opportunity to scout for more recruits in the overworld of Vermund. What’s intriguing with this prospect, is that the potential new Pawns that players can bring on aren’t just randomly generated NPC’s but other player companion Pawns that asymmetrically wander around for your use in tandem with their player’s real-game counterparts.

The cooking animations go "Food Network" hard for some bizarre reason.This mercenary-like dynamic is dictated by its exclusive kind of currency known as Rift Crystals which can earned through both combat and side-quests alongside the usual experience points. Like gold, RC is spent on a Pawn’s enlistment fee, which can vary based on their level, equipment, skill-set, and review metrics from previous players—the better the track record, the higher they go for in price.  What makes this pseudo-rental system even more intriguing is that players can send their Pawn companions off with meta-objectives to complete, earning additional RC for both the Pawn’s player and the player who completed the Pawn quest with them in their party. Aside from that though, there isn’t much else Rift Crystals can buy other than cosmetic upgrades or edits for anyone looking to change up their companion Pawn. On paper, working with a player-driven network of freelance party members is a recipe for engaging community play without any of the intimidating social commitments, but alas—the system isn’t as grand in execution.

Much like any other role-playing experience, certain class-builds are more desirable than others, including the inevitable game-breaking arrangements, leaving some pawns geared around a fan-favorite vocation instead of a more practical class, shunned on the sidelines. It does bear mentioning that Capcom has recognized this discrepancy, and implemented a Band-Aid of sorts by setting up NPC players who will actively hire your Pawn if their recruitment stats reflect a poor average of enlistment from real players. It certainly doesn’t fix the issue, but is still something that addresses the disparity at least until Capcom development can engineer some new game-balancing updates for the future of the game.

Despite how boilerplate the development and recruitment systems may be, what really stands out with the Pawn system is how sophisticated the AI is, with a near-immediate response time to any support tactic, consistently following through on their assignment with optimal performance no matter how dynamic the player command may be.

For instance, say you were to encounter a large troll near a tall cliff trail that’s perfect for positioning a high-ground assault onto the enemy’s head—one tactic a player could deploy in this situation is to task their pawn companion to stay put within the base vicinity of that alcove can offer a safety net for that risky maneuver. In commanding the Pawn to be at the ready in the area, the Pawn will instinctively move to catch a falling player in the event of the over-grown goon swatting away the zealous attack and send the player off into a lethal descent. This is just one of several combat scenarios, and in nearly every circumstance I encountered, I quickly learned that the Pawns were more than just extra muscle to garnish your chances on the battlefield—they’re the deciding factor for nearly any skirmish you’re in, especially when the match-up isn’t statistically in the player’s favor. The AI is still far from perfect though, because outside of battle, they’re about as helpful as a backseat filled with children on a long and exhausting road trip.

Imagine a situation where your Pawn will start cycling through repeated directions on multiple points of interest within the area if they’re in close enough proximity of one another, causing some unneeded confusion at best, and annoying white noise at worst—and that’s just the tip of it. The universal templates for designs and playstyle also bring with it banal chatter that’s delivered with such an automated, cartoonishly lifeless tone that makes itself at home because boy-howdy do these pawns never shut up, like, it’s aggravatingly incessant…

And that segues into my biggest gripe with Dragon’s Dogma II; for how solid the role-playing framework and combat gameplay is, the world built around it is just so mundane, and genuinely just…boring as all hell.

For every Game of Thrones, there’s a Reign, or The White Queen, or The Last Kingdom, or a…well, you get the picture, and just out of that aforementioned list, which one do you recognize—which one can you picture in your head right now, and even travel to as if it were a real-world destination? Regardless of them all sharing similar settings, cultures, races, mysticism, etcetera etcetera, there’s a reason that Hidetaka Miyazaki reached out to George "RailRoad" Martin to collaborate with on Elden Ring—a world like Vermund can only do so much with the essential fantasy tropes—there simply needs to be more.

Dead stop, there is just nothing memorable about the villages, people, or world that Dragon’s Dogma II inhabits, and the point doesn’t take long to make itself painfully clear when players are faced with the reality of limited fast-travel. I honestly couldn't tell you one event or character exchange that stuck with me in my time with Dragon's Dogma II, and yet right off the top of my head, I could tell you all about the little nuances of running through the streets of Florence in Assassin's Creed II. Images that immediately come to mind are the Italian architecture or hustle of city folk around me as I darted Ezio in and out of the Venetian allies, right down to an older gentleman NPC saying "Either he is very late or she is very pretty" as I sped right past him—Dragon's Dogma II just didn't tick any of those boxes. In actuality, the game felt like it was ticking boxes on what passes for the bare minimum of a fantasy setting instead. I could breakdown all of the larger-than-life confrontations I had with Cyclops, Griffins, or Dragons, and where the environment even played a role in those fights, but damned if I know much about the Arisen, why the Beastren were exiled out of Vernworth, or why everyone speaks with the most outlandish Oldtime English dialect I have ever heard out of ANY media. The experience of Dragon’s Dogma II is pretty cut-and-paste beyond its stellar combat system, and while it offers these outrageous gameplay mechanics that you’d expect out of some farcical parody of a video game in a day-time soap opera, it has nowhere near the amount of charisma in its presentation to compliment said memorable gameplay.

Despite how much of a slog the narrative is, some characters like Ulrika manage to make a memorable impression.

Dragon’s Dogma II is certainly a welcomed improvement over the lofty promise of the original, and while I can even understand why it’s in the conversation for Game of the Year, I can’t help but feel like it still has a long way to go to earn that sort of praise.  Also, as a quick aside; while I really don’t understand the inclusion of micro transactions for the in-game items of the game, I never felt pigeon-holed into even browsing what was on offer, let alone buying anything with my real-life space bucks, so I don’t think it really needed to be mentioned beyond this little blurb.

Play it for the water-cooler talk, but beyond that, don’t expect Dragon’s Dogma II to leave you with anything beyond that aside from this eerie sense of Déjà vu that you’ve seen some made-up game that looked a lot like it on a Disney Channel sitcom or something dumb like that.