And yet, the next evening I found myself feverishly re-downloading The Witcher 2 to get my fix. I wanted more Witcher 3, but Witcher 2—its hunt less wild, its Geralt's face not yet a wooly paradise of angst-fertilized scruff—would have to do. That moment really struck me because, as I said, I thought Witcher 3's first few hours were OK, but it wasn't like somebody had to pry my fingers from a controller or scrub my fingernail flecks from a keyboard.

Advertisement

But clearly, the game resonated with me on some deeper level. It triggered that gamerly compulsion to lose myself in a world, to cannon ball into the deep end and sponge up every last bit of its mythology. To hand my friends and family five bucks and tell them to go see a movie for the next couple months, because I had plans that evening. And the next evening and the next evening and the next evening and—

The Witcher 3 quietly, insidiously sunk its hooks in deep. It was the little things that got me, I realized. Little things like:

Advertisement
Advertisement
Advertisement
Advertisement

However, I also noticed some stuff that made me kinda worried. For instance:

Advertisement
Advertisement

So those are my big takeaways. If there's anything else you want to know, feel free to ask in the comments. I will (probably) get to your question eventually (maybe).

To contact the author of this post, write to nathan.grayson@kotaku.com or find him on Twitter @vahn16.