Soulsborne-inspired games are everywhere these days, with so many flooding the genre that it’s getting harder for any of them to truly stand out. But every so often, one comes along that doesn’t just follow the formula—it elevates it. In recent years, games like Lies of P, Stranger of Paradise (yes, it’s fantastic—fight me), Remnant 2, and Nine Sols have proven that there’s still room to push the genre forward. So, when The First Berserker: Khazan was first revealed, there was a lingering worry that it might get lost in the sea of uninspired attempts. Those doubts didn’t last long. Within minutes, it became clear—this one belongs among the greats.
The First Berserker: Khazan comes out swinging—no hesitation, no wasted time. From the moment you take control, it’s all momentum—brutal, fast, and completely unforgiving. This isn’t a game that eases you in. It doesn’t hold your hand, doesn’t waste time explaining why you should care, and definitely doesn’t bother with filler. It just throws you into the chaos and lets you figure things out as you go. That’s what makes it so damn good.
It understands exactly what it wants to be, and more importantly, exactly what the player wants from it. It’s all about weight—weight in its combat, in its world, in its storytelling. Every swing of Khazan’s weapon feels like it matters. Every enemy is a genuine threat, not just another punching bag. Every location, from the ruined strongholds to the dense, overgrown forests, feels like it has history. There’s no wasted space—no areas that exist just to look nice. Everything feels purposeful, lived-in, and steeped in the blood of those who came before.
“The First Berserker: Khazan comes out swinging—no hesitation, no wasted time.”
Khazan himself is exactly the kind of protagonist a game like this needs. He’s not here to monologue, and he’s definitely not some reluctant hero who has to be dragged into battle. He’s a warrior, plain and simple. There’s a lot of weight behind his story, but the game never stops to over-explain it. It lets the world do the talking. You pick up on the details through the way people react to him and the state of the places he travels through. That kind of storytelling—where the game respects the player enough to let them piece things together instead of spoon-feeding every detail—is something you don’t see enough of anymore.
Then there’s the combat. It’s fast, it’s brutal, and it never lets up. This isn’t the kind of game where you just mash buttons and hope for the best. You have to be precise. You have to know when to go in for the kill and when to back off. It rewards aggression but not recklessness. Every fight is a test, and the second you stop paying attention, you’re done.
The enemy variety keeps things fresh, too. You’re not just fighting the same grunts over and over with slightly different weapons. Each enemy has its own style and forces you to change up your tactics. The game doesn’t let you get comfortable, and that’s exactly what makes it work so well.
Boss fights are another highlight. They’re tough, but they never feel cheap. Every single one of them is designed to push you, forcing you to use everything you’ve learned up to that point. There’s no room for luck here—if you win, it’s because you earned it. That feeling of finally taking down an enemy who’s been kicking your butt for the last 20 minutes? That’s the kind of high that keeps you coming back.
Visually, the game absolutely delivers. It leans into the grit—everything feels rough, worn down and broken in all the right ways. It just feels real, like a place where people have been fighting and dying for a long, long time. The character designs are sharp, too. Khazan looks exactly like the kind of warrior who’s been through hell and back, and every enemy you encounter feels distinct.
The lighting does a lot of the heavy lifting when it comes to atmosphere. Shadows stretch long over battlefields, torchlight flickers off stone walls in ancient fortresses, and distant storms roll in over the horizon, painting the sky in deep, foreboding grays. It’s the kind of detail that makes even quiet moments feel tense, like something could go horribly wrong at any second.
“Boss fights are another highlight—they’re tough, but they never feel cheap.”
Sound design is just as strong. The soundtrack knows exactly when to step in and when to back off, letting the sounds of battle take center stage when needed. Every weapon has weight, every impact feels real, and the game doesn’t shy away from making things messy. There’s a raw, brutal quality to the audio that matches the tone of the game perfectly.
The voice acting follows that same philosophy. It’s not overly dramatic or trying too hard to be emotional—it just feels right. Also, whenever Ben Starr speaks, I can’t help but be enraptured.
One of the smartest aspects of The First Berserker: Khazan is its pacing. It never feels like it’s dragging, but it also never rushes. It’s constantly pushing forward, keeping you locked in, but it knows exactly when to give you a moment to breathe. The world is designed in a way that encourages exploration without forcing it.
“There’s no wasted space—no areas that exist just to look nice—everything feels purposeful, lived-in, and steeped in the blood of those who came before.”
And that’s the thing—it respects your time. It doesn’t waste it with bloated areas or drawn-out cutscenes. It’s all killer, no filler. Everything serves a purpose, and because of that, the game never loses momentum.
There’s something about The First Berserker: Khazan that feels like a throwback to when action games were at their best, but with all the modern refinements that make combat feel tighter and more responsive than ever. It doesn’t need to reinvent the wheel because it knows exactly how to make that wheel spin at full speed.
There are no compromises here. It’s a game made for people who love combat that feels raw and rewarding—a world that pulls you in without needing to dump hours of exposition on you, and a story that makes you care without wasting your time. It’s rare to see a game this confident in what it is.
Even in the moments where the difficulty spikes, or when an enemy gets the best of you for the 10th time in a row, it never feels frustrating in the wrong way. Every loss is a lesson, every setback is a reason to push forward. That’s what makes it addictive—it never feels unfair, just unrelenting.
If you’ve been looking for something that doesn’t hold back, that doesn’t waste your time, and that makes every second count, this is the one. The First Berserker: Khazan isn’t just good—it’s the kind of game that reminds you why you love action games in the first place.
