

He can throw stones, choke out the occasional helmetless orc, and perform a few other tricks that do little to expand what should have been a robust array of stealth options, considering that creeping around is basically all this game is about. Incorporating challenge into this sort of traversal isn’t always a bad idea, as it can often feel too frictionless, but the solution here is to have such muddy art direction that you aren’t sure where you’re supposed to be going. Gollum moves like a less murderous Nathan Drake, able to climb, shimmy and hop up ledges and crevices. I’m all for ambient dialogue in games, but here you are prevented from interacting with anything while a conversation is playing, which is a lot of the time. At various points during the (too frequent, mostly boring, school play-tier) dialogue, you’ll be able to choose how he acts, in ways replete with such delicate moral nuance as “crush the harmless insect” or “don’t”, and so guide the creature down one path or another. We are placed in the shoes – well, in the pallid, bare feet – of Gollum AKA Sméagol, the pre-pandemic blueprint for the trash goblin that now lives inside us all.

It’s watery, janky, broken, alternately frustrating and frictionless, completely without tension or pathos, and squanders a great concept. It’s a technical disaster, at least on PC, and even when it does work, it feels like an extended forced stealth section from a game where stealth is just one of 50,000 other systems. This game never looked especially promising, and now it’s out, it’s about as riveting as listening to a huddle of ents discuss the finer points of deciduous shedding.
