W e spot the pressure pad on the floor a few hours into our journey as Khazan. A quick glance around reveals three holes in the wall above a nearby treasure chest. We step on the plate intentionally, then skip to the side – sure enough, a barrage of deadly darts shoots out from the holes. As traps go, this one is so familiar that it poses no danger at all. In a game most likely to appeal to Soulslike veterans looking for the next fix, what is the point? Khazan: The First Berserker wrestles with this question throughout, and can’t pin down an entirely satisfactory answer. In many ways, it’s competently built but no more than that, and seldom does it show off an original idea. Technically, you might say it’s not a Soulslike, but only because it’s much more a Nioh-like, borrowing wholesale from Team Ninja’s take on the genre, with direct nods to From’s catalogue less frequent. But while Nioh isn’t a bad template to copy, The First Berserker doesn’t quite have the gumption of, say, Lies Of P’s reprise of Bloodborne, and as a result it’s difficult to discern its purpose.
The aesthetic approach is different, at least, and the sound effects stand out: from the clash of steel to the activation of a rest point or the cranking gears on a lift, they’re all gratifyingly chunky. This helps give the world a pleasing solidity, in line with the physique of Khazan himself. An army general falsely denounced as a traitor who gets possessed and empowered by malicious ghosts, he could easily pass as a Conan cosplayer. The game’s artists bestow on him a block-shaded 3D anime look, which isn’t an obvious choice for dark fantasy, but its bold lines are certainly at one with his muscle definition.
It’s curious, then, that beyond the close-up cutscene rendition of characters, the lively aesthetics have their wings clipped by otherwise muted design. The First Berserker opens on a snowy mountain, a location of washed-out whites and greys, where you may strain to pick out paths, chests and enemies. We learn from found documents that the patrolling soldiers here, whose captivity we recently escaped, would rather be anywhere else, and we can sympathise. From there, the landscape varies, but is no less desaturated or uninspired.