GRAND AMBITIONS IN SHACKLED EXECUTION
Xenoblade Chronicles 2 is a colossal JRPG in every sense of the word: immense, ambitious, clunky, and frequently overwhelming. At its best, it is spectacular—delivering dramatic story turns, awe-inspiring vistas, and thrilling boss encounters. At its worst, it buries those moments beneath endless menus, opaque systems, and hours of grinding through undercooked side mechanics. A truly great game is hidden somewhere inside, but you have to dig deep to uncover it.
Taking on Xenoblade Chronicles 2 is a serious commitment. Its layered systems are difficult to parse, and the tutorials barely scratch the surface. My playthrough clocked in at nearly 120 hours, and during long stretches I felt like I was making no real progress at all. Even then, vast swathes of side content and entire regions remained untouched. A full completion would likely have doubled that playtime—and I’m certain my patience, and the final score, would not have survived the attempt.
The story follows Rex, an orphan who makes his living as a salvager alongside his companion, a talkative Titan named Gramps. Together they dive beneath a vast sea of clouds, scavenging the remnants of a long-lost civilization and selling what they find at ports scattered across the world.
That world, Alrest, is built atop enormous living Titans—each hosting its own civilizations, ecosystems, and political tensions. But the Titans are dying, and no one knows why. At the center of the world rises a colossal tree, said to lead to Elysium, the home of the Architect—the godlike creator who has withdrawn from his own creation.
Rex’s journey truly begins when he is hired by a shady group to explore a sunken ship. There, he awakens Pyra, a mysterious Blade in human form, and becomes her Driver. This puts him directly at odds with his employers, the Torna, who sought to claim Pyra for themselves.
That’s as far as I’ll go. Xenoblade Chronicles 2 builds a mythos as dense and fascinating as the original game’s, weaving together Titans, gods, machines, political factions, and ancient grudges. Like Rex, you begin with no understanding of the larger picture and gradually piece it together through exploration, conflict, and revelation. It is an unapologetically massive hero’s journey, and the game largely earns its scale.
The defining addition this time around is the Blade system. Blades act as living weapons and companions, each with their own combat roles, skill trees, sidequests, and character interactions. Pyra is just the beginning. Unlocking new Blades is handled through Core Crystals, a system that flirts dangerously close to loot boxes—albeit without real-money purchases. You can improve your odds, but luck plays a significant role, and for every unique Blade you unlock, you’ll awaken several generic, forgettable ones.
The unique Blades, however, are impressively varied, both mechanically and narratively. Leveling them up often involves long chains of side objectives that range from charming character moments to maddening scavenger hunts across multiple regions. It’s rewarding, but exhausting.
Their character designs have understandably drawn criticism. The sheer volume of exaggerated anime fanservice is impossible to ignore. I’m no prude, but the tonal clash is real—watching hyper-sexualized Blade animations during moments of genuine emotional weight often undercuts the drama.
The story itself is compelling, but poorly told. Cutscene direction feels dated, with awkward pauses between voice lines and wildly inconsistent voice acting (I played with English audio). Characters have a habit of delivering long, melodramatic speeches in the middle of urgent situations, draining tension rather than heightening it. Ironically, the quieter Heart-to-Heart conversations are often the strongest writing in the game.
Visually, however, Xenoblade Chronicles 2 is breathtaking. Each Titan has its own identity, architecture, and musical theme. Indol’s religious atmosphere, underscored by a dynamic choir that shifts with the time of day, is a standout. Compared to the first game, the illusion of inhabiting a living world feels stronger—you can sometimes see a Titan’s massive form moving in the distance, reminding you that the ground beneath your feet is alive.
Navigating that world, unfortunately, is a nightmare. The map and compass are among the worst I’ve encountered in a modern RPG. Verticality makes it difficult to interpret objectives, and progress is frequently gated behind specific Blade field skills. Everything feels sluggish: movement, menus, map access, even picking up collectibles. The game’s refusal to guide the player could have been empowering, but instead it becomes frustrating.
Combat is where everything finally clicks. The semi-automatic battle system, with its layered Blade combos, elemental chains, and devastating chain attacks, is deeply satisfying once understood. Despite the chaos on screen, I always felt in control, carefully timing abilities and building toward explosive finishes.
AI companions are far from perfect—particularly when they wander into environmental hazards—but they carried their weight through most encounters. The sheer variety of party builds and item synergies suggests immense replayability, though the game’s length makes a second playthrough feel unlikely.
My own setup was fairly conservative, relying mostly on canonical Blades and a handful of rare ones I unlocked early (Boreas, Vess, and Godfrey). It carried me through without too much trouble, but it’s clear that experienced players could craft wildly different—and more efficient—builds.
Looking back, my experience was deeply mixed. Some sessions were thrilling, dramatic, and unforgettable. Others were miserable detours into side content I wasn’t yet equipped to handle. One quest at level 60 abruptly pitted me against a level-90 monster that killed me instantly—before I could even draw my weapon. Incidents like this turned the side content into a stressful backlog within the backlog.
I also learned the hard way that the game lacks auto-save, losing several hours of progress to a crash.
And yet—almost despite itself—I grew attached. Through its highs and lows, its existential themes and juvenile anime humor, its grand ambitions and clumsy execution, Xenoblade Chronicles 2 slowly won me over. It is not a beginner’s JRPG by any stretch, but for someone willing to endure its excesses, it offers moments of genuine wonder.
In time, I suspect I’ll remember it fondly—not for the wasted hours, but for the extraordinary world that occasionally shone through them.
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