From the very first moment I stepped into the Forbidden West, I knew this wasn’t just a sequel. It was a world Guerrilla Games had poured their heart into — a place that felt not only bigger, but bolder and more alive than anything they’d built before.

You play again as Aloy, a fierce, intelligent warrior who’s still learning how to let others in. She carries the weight of saving a broken world, and that weight shows — in her voice, her decisions, even the way she stands in quiet moments. It’s a story about climate collapse, rogue AI, ancient secrets, and tribal tensions… but at its core, it’s about one woman trying to fix something too big for one person to fix alone.

The combat is a dance of precision and chaos. Whether you're sniping off components from a towering Thunderjaw or laying traps for a pack of agile Clawstriders, every fight demands creativity. The new skill trees are a meaningful evolution — you can tailor Aloy into a stealth ghost, a trapmaster, a melee brawler, or a deadly marksman. And yes, the melee system is finally good.

What struck me most, though, wasn’t just the beauty of the environments (though they are jaw-dropping — especially the underwater sequences), but how much the world breathes. NPCs have routines. Side quests have weight. Towns feel like people live there, not just like quest hubs. It’s rare that I actually want to do side content — here, I was eager for it.

It’s not perfect. The UI can still get cluttered, and some missions can be overly long with dialogue dumps. Occasionally the pacing lags under the weight of its lore. But those are small issues in a game that so consistently rewards exploration, curiosity, and empathy.

By the end, I wasn’t just impressed. I was moved. Horizon Forbidden West isn’t just a technical marvel — it’s a human story in a post-human world.

Rating: 9/10

From the very first moment I stepped into the Forbidden West, I knew this wasn’t just a sequel. It was a world Guerrilla Games had poured their heart into — a place that felt not only bigger, but bolder and more alive than anything they’d built before. You play again as Aloy, a fierce, intelligent warrior who’s still learning how to let others in. She carries the weight of saving a broken world, and that weight shows — in her voice, her decisions, even the way she stands in quiet moments. It’s a story about climate collapse, rogue AI, ancient secrets, and tribal tensions… but at its core, it’s about one woman trying to fix something too big for one person to fix alone. The combat is a dance of precision and chaos. Whether you're sniping off components from a towering Thunderjaw or laying traps for a pack of agile Clawstriders, every fight demands creativity. The new skill trees are a meaningful evolution — you can tailor Aloy into a stealth ghost, a trapmaster, a melee brawler, or a deadly marksman. And yes, the melee system is finally good. What struck me most, though, wasn’t just the beauty of the environments (though they are jaw-dropping — especially the underwater sequences), but how much the world breathes. NPCs have routines. Side quests have weight. Towns feel like people live there, not just like quest hubs. It’s rare that I actually want to do side content — here, I was eager for it. It’s not perfect. The UI can still get cluttered, and some missions can be overly long with dialogue dumps. Occasionally the pacing lags under the weight of its lore. But those are small issues in a game that so consistently rewards exploration, curiosity, and empathy. By the end, I wasn’t just impressed. I was moved. Horizon Forbidden West isn’t just a technical marvel — it’s a human story in a post-human world. Rating: 9/10