I need to save the world, but I can’t be bothered about that right now. I am on a mission to adopt 27 more cats. I’m in a village, with eyes on my next prospect: a portly calico cat who is only identified in-game as “loafy cat.” I plan to name it Potato—when I catch it.

I have picked this cat up in my arms, given it some pets, and fed it many big chunks of bird meat. Then I set the cat down. It bolts down the street. I give chase, crash through a door, accidentally shoulder check a maid who staggers back and shouts, “Fuck you, you fucking fuck!”

It’s worth it. I snag the cat, give it one more pet, and then slap on a handsome hat with a feather poking out of it. Potato has panache.

In Crimson Desert, you play as Kliff, an aptly named slab of marble of a man. Again and again, you are told you are the biggest, goodest boy around, and you are here to rescue the downtrodden and save the world. You’re a big ol’ badass, sure. There is plenty of thrilling combat to be found here, crunchy as can be. Kliff can annihilate enemies with any manner of weapons, body slams, or trick shots with bow and arrow. It’s all great.

But I’ve dressed him in a mask with no defense stats that makes him look like a snail or something very Adventure Time-core. My Kilff is a real softie, and this game really shines in the slower, mellower moments.