DO WITCHERS DREAM OF MUTATED SHEEP?
Nowadays it almost feels like part of gamer grammar school, but I vividly remember how daunting it was to enter the dense universe of The Witcher. Back in 2015, I was eagerly awaiting the release of The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt and wanted to experience the full backstory beforehand. Naturally, I decided to start at the beginning—with the first game.
There was just one problem: it wasn’t really the beginning.
The game continues the story of an entire book series by Andrzej Sapkowski, and is therefore just as saturated with past events as any of its sequels. So where should one start? The books are the ideal answer, of course, but that’s a tall order for anyone eager to dive straight into playing.
The strongest argument in favor of The Witcher: Enhanced Edition is the decision to make its hero, Geralt of Rivia, an amnesiac. Having returned from the brink of death, his mind is a blank slate. This clever narrative device allows Geralt to ask basic questions he otherwise couldn’t—and gives the player a foothold in an otherwise overwhelming world.
The problem is that The Witcher: Enhanced Edition is also the weakest entry in the trilogy. Starting here carries a real risk of discouragement. It blends inspired ideas with clumsy execution, resulting in a true diamond in the rough. If you value writing, atmosphere, and world-building, this might be your game. If you prioritize fluid combat, smooth controls, clear quest design, and cinematic presentation—consider yourself warned.
A CORRUPT WORLD
The Witcher universe draws inspiration from Tolkien and Slavic folklore, blending elves and dwarves with grotesque creatures born from cautionary tales. CD Projekt Red wisely chose to frame this world as an action-heavy role-playing game, fostering intimacy with both its inhabitants and its moral landscape.
Built on BioWare’s Aurora Engine—originally created for Neverwinter Nights—the game visually resembles later BioWare titles like Dragon Age: Origins. The story unfolds in and around the plague-ridden city of Vizima in the kingdom of Temeria. With King Foltest away at war, political schemers tighten their grip, and rumors of a coup swirl beneath the surface.
Geralt (voiced by Doug Cockle) arrives on personal business, but quickly becomes entangled in the political rot. As he traverses diseased streets and fetid marshlands, he repeatedly laments humanity’s moral decay—a decay that seems to summon monsters rather than repel them. Instead of addressing the causes of corruption, society merely treats the symptoms. As a Witcher—a mutated human engineered to slay monsters—Geralt would never be out of work, were he less principled.
GOOD STORY TOLD POORLY
The prologue has you defending Kaer Morhen, the Witchers’ secluded stronghold, against an assault led by a criminal known as the Professor and a mysterious mage. No matter how well you fight, the attackers succeed, stealing the secrets of Witcher mutations. This theft drives the entire plot across five chapters and an epilogue, as Geralt pursues the truth alongside his lover, Triss Merigold (Jules de Jongh).
For its time, the world-building is exceptional. The Enhanced Edition improves voice acting and textures, and pairs them with a melancholic folk soundtrack that sells the bleakness of the setting. Though the game lacks a true open world, it convincingly lays the foundation for one.
Unfortunately, the storytelling is undermined by poor cinematic direction. The aging Aurora engine struggles with cutscenes: cameras miss crucial action, transitions glitch, and character models often drift into unintentional comedy. Voice acting frequently emphasizes the wrong words, flattening otherwise strong dialogue.
Yet beneath these shortcomings lies real narrative ambition. The game presents morally complex choices long before that became fashionable—choices based not on good versus evil, but on incomplete information. This was novel at the time, though the execution lacks clarity.
One early chapter asks you to judge a villager accused of serious crimes. Crucial evidence is scattered and poorly staged, often encountered before you even know a trial is coming. As a result, your decision reflects personal bias rather than Geralt’s investigation. Only a careful reading of the journal—excellent, but optional—reveals the intended nuance.
COMPLEXITIES BEYOND THE OBVIOUS
The codex system, which directly affects combat effectiveness, remains one of the game’s most impressive ideas. Certain monsters require research to defeat properly, and knowledge can be acquired through books, skills, or NPC interactions. None of this is clearly tutorialized—just one example of the game’s many hidden systems.
Combat itself, however, is its greatest flaw. Attempting originality, it combines real-time action with rhythm-game timing and hidden stat rolls. Geralt attacks automatically once prompted, chaining blows if you time inputs correctly. You must also select the correct sword style—fast, strong, or group—based on enemy type.
It tries to be tactical and thrilling, but lands awkwardly between the two. Since combat is central to a Witcher’s identity, this is a serious issue. Spellcasting partially salvages the system; one particular sign is so powerful that I defeated the final boss simply by spamming it, stunlocking him in place. I laughed—and then realized how fundamentally broken the encounter design was. Repetition, not mastery, is often the optimal strategy.
QUEST DESIGN AND SUBTLE TOUCHES
Anyone allergic to backtracking should proceed with caution. Many quests remain unresolved for long stretches, requiring constant traversal across the same areas. This openness, meant to feel organic, often becomes exhausting and risks overshadowing well-written side content.
Still, moments of subtle brilliance shine through. Beyond the game’s infamous bawdiness lies a quiet, missable scene in which Geralt asks a scholar whether Witcher infertility can be cured—hinting at a desire for domestic life. Given his usual cynicism, such moments feel unexpectedly human, and linger long after flashier sequences fade.
AN ACQUIRED TASTE
I wouldn’t recommend The Witcher: Enhanced Edition to everyone. It’s an acquired taste—even for me. Its strengths align neatly with my own preferences: atmosphere, moral ambiguity, and role-playing depth. Humor is dry and often cruel, monsters grotesque, and the world relentlessly bleak.
Yet these elements coalesce into something I can forgive much of its technical clumsiness for. I’ve outlined its flaws honestly; whether you can look past them is up to you. If you do, you’ll likely hunger for more—something the sequels deliver in abundance.
If you plan to experience the entire trilogy, there’s an argument for starting here and absorbing the rough edges first. You can even lower the difficulty and focus on the story. It won’t fix the broken cinematics, but it might turn a grueling experience into a tolerable one.
And if that means spamming the same spell for one minute instead of two, consider it a small price to pay for preserving your sanity—and your gamer pride.
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