I went atop the highest mountain not for enlightenment or even because "it's there," but rather to see what a frost giant looks like when I carved one up with a spear. Turns out, at least the way the free new Frozen North expansion for Conan Exiles depicts them, they end up looking a lot like Kratos. Up on the snowy wastes on the roof of the world I hacked at one of their calves, dodging his axe and splashing his pale skin with red until he called his buds and I had no choice but to flee. No biggie. It turns out that retreating from the highest mountain gives you a fantastic view of the world below.
For the first time in several months it's a world I want to return to. Landscape-centered eye candy has always been one of the chief reasons to play Conan Exiles, but the extra diversity of the new Nordic-themed biome allows Funcom's world to feel a little more like a real space than just a pretty one. It almost doubles the size of the map and offers something to look at besides desert. It gives us trees besides palms. It introduces dreary little rainshowers and comes with an array of improvements ranging from AI enhancements to crafting systems for brewing and cooking. Even the new music enriches the mood.
Judging from the promotional art, only Conan is tough enough to survive the snowy wastes with no shirt save his chest hair.
You have to go through hell to reach the roughly level 30 zone, and the challenge makes discovering it feel even more rewarding. It sprawls at the northern expanses of the map, and from what I can tell it's only accessible through a pass where sand dunes pile as high as montains and pig-sized scorpions block the path. Some photos of Mars look more hospitable. But then you cross one last dune and the biome shifts with World of Warcraft-abruptness to an earthy canvas painted with the same muted greens and grays so loved from Skyrim and The Witcher 3's Skellige. In any other game it would be bleak. But here, after so long in the desert, the shadowy pine forests and tundra where boars and dire wolves stalk chalky peaks feel like Eden.
The cold gnawed me from the second I arrived, decked out as I was in a desert-friendly leather kilt and chest piece that showed off my pecs. Climate conditions are among the hot new features of the latest patch, requiring different wardrobes depending on which part of the world you're in. (Judging from the promotional art, only Conan is tough enough to survive the snowy wastes with no shirt save his chest hair.) I'm impressed by how much it adds to the feel of the game. I'd already had my first taste of it as I crossed the desert on my way north, where I found the overheating mechanism captured the oppressiveness of hiking on a Arizona hiking trail on a summer day. I got thirsty, demanding more water. The exhaustion caused my bags to feel heavier until I found some shade or splashed in some water. Short of actually sweating, I could practically feel the heat.
Bugs led me to see wonders too surreal even for Robert E. Howard's brand of fantasy.
In the north the cold led me to don the latest patch's attractive fur Vanir stylings (which I mainly looted from upstart NPCs rather than crafting). Cold feels a bit more benign than heat, mainly forcing me to eat more often. The worst I endured was on the white expanses of the snowy peaks, where I finally got so cold that frostbite set in, steadily whittling down my health as I plodded along.
Good looks aren't enough to make you forget this is Early Access. Bugs led me to see wonders too surreal even for Robert E. Howard's brand of fantasy. I saw sandstorms in lush, rainy areas that could have played stunt double for Puget Sound. I saw wolves hovering in place above lakes eight feet in the air, snapping at me viciously while I smacked them with my hammer from below. From the desert to the mountains, I saw creatures great and small stuck in tiny animation loops that kept them circling like dogs preparing to curl up for a nap. Most harrowing of all, I saw a bear try to attack me through the walls of my newly built home, his head bobbing ghostlike through the bricks at each lunge. And what did I do? It's a friggin' bear. Of course I exploited it. I sat in the comfort of my living room slamming his noggin with my hammer each time he poked through.
I wish that looked as fun as it probably sounds. Enemies may die in a gushy explosion of organs and gore, but the poor feedback still leaves the actual business of fighting feeling a bit like slapping ruffians with a pool noodle. The Frozen North brings improvements such as separate keys for light and heavy attacks, but combat remains the weakest aspect of Conan Exiles, which feels like a sin for a game inspired by a barbarian who finds his Zen moments in "the mad exultation of battle when the blue blades flame crimson."
If only it were a mere case of fixing the animations. The next patch also forces you to unequip your weapons when sprinting, which greatly frustrated my slice-and-retreat technique I was using with the frost giant. It's hard enough to manage with a keyboard and mouse, and I tremble to think of what a shock Xbox One players are in when they attempt this same awkward juggle with a gamepad.
Awful, you might say. The catch is that I'm eager to jump in again. We're clearly still playing with a rough draft, but so much of the rest of The Frozen North sees Funcom at last inking in the strokes of Conan Exiles' promising outline. Lifelong Conan fan that I am, I've long hoped Conan Exiles would fill the void left by the largely dead (and underrated) Age of Conan, but for much of this last year I felt I was forcing my enthusiasm for it. No more, or at least it's stronger than it was before. Bloody squabbles with frost giants and Nordheimers on snowy peaks? Crafting skills that celebrate the "rich juices of red meat and stinging wine on my palate"? By Crom, sign me up.
Leif Johnson is a contributing editor for IGN who writes about games from a remote South Texas ranch. He recommends reading Kurt Busiek and Cary Nord's Conan graphic novels. You can chat him up on Twitter at @leifjohnson.
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