It’s all valuable and worthwhile, and for that reason, the Ubisoft approach to open-world game design actually works rather than ending up as endless fluff filling out a checklist on an overstuffed, headache-inducing map. Nothing feels like a waste of time or a distraction. Before you know it, you’re returning to a sprawling hub of commerce, and that development is furthered by the main story and the side content. This in turn lets you craft new items, and all while saving countless people on the road that ultimately ups your number of villagers. You have a small growing settlement that you expand by cultivating resources and upgrading the huts while also recruiting new key members that bring new intelligence. RELATED: The Original Far Cry Is Still One Of The Best Shooters Out There Not only is it the best Far Cry, but it’s also one of the better open-world games out there right now. I never get that feeling with Primal - yet it’s the black sheep of the series, the underdog that’s so often cited as Far Cry’s worst, but that’s wrong on so many levels. It’s a lot of fun in parts, and the gunplay is a treat, but I was desperate for it to end. Vaas is overrated, being snuffed out before he ever gets interesting, while the story is long-winded, feeling like it's finally coming to a conclusion before huzzah, you’re only halfway through. I recently delved back in to see what the hype was all about, and I don’t get it. I’ve not quite got the same soft spot for 3 that so many seem to. It’s a free-for-all on a grand, brutal scale, and that’s exactly why Far Cry Primal is the best Far Cry of the bunch. It’s an exhilarating jaunt that feels raw and bloody, with the only goal in mind being to better your own people, even if that means tearing them down. It tore into every exposed ligament while I torched the huts with my fiery two-handed club, before beating the stragglers over the head while gathering up their precious resources. Yesterday, I strolled up to an encampment full of tribesmen hastily sharpening their spears with fragile flecks of flint before whistling with my fist raised high, siccing my bloodthirsty sabretooth onto the unsuspecting sods.
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