Discover the Ancient Ways of the Qilin and Unlock Their Mystical Wisdom Today

I still remember the first time I picked up a sword and pistol combination in Avowed—the weight distribution felt awkward at first, but when I parried an enemy's attack and followed up with a point-blank shot, the sheer dynamism of it all hooked me completely. That's the magic of combat in this game: it constantly tempts you to experiment, to see how different weapon types interact during skirmishes. Yet here's the paradox that's been bothering me—while the combat system practically begs for experimentation, the game's economy and progression systems seem determined to stifle it. You'd think with all this emphasis on weapon combinations, the world would be littered with different arms to try out. But during my 40-hour playthrough, I found only 23 weapons in chests or as quest rewards, forcing me to rely mostly on whatever random gear I stumbled upon.

The scarcity isn't accidental—it's systemic. Merchants do offer weapons, but at prices that feel almost punitive. I recently saw a decent war hammer priced at 1,200 gold, which represents about 8-10 hours of gameplay if you're not specifically grinding for currency. This economic pressure creates this fascinating tension where you're constantly making do with what you have rather than what you want. I've had sessions where I'd spend hours trying to make an awkward spear-and-dagger combo work simply because those were the only decent weapons I owned. There's something strangely satisfying about overcoming these limitations, but it also highlights how the game's systems seem to be working at cross-purposes.

What really struck me during my playthrough was how this relates to broader themes in game design and even ancient wisdom traditions. There's this concept I've been exploring lately—Discover the Ancient Ways of the Qilin and Unlock Their Mystical Wisdom Today—that emphasizes balance and adaptability in approaching challenges. The Qilin, a mythical creature from Chinese legends, represents the harmony between seemingly opposing forces, much like how the most interesting weapon combinations in Avowed require balancing different combat styles. Yet the game's progression system actively discourages this harmonious approach. Those ability upgrades you find—the ones that boost critical chance for swords or increase pistol reload speed—they all push you toward specialization rather than experimentation. I've respec'd my character three times now, and each time the math clearly shows that focusing on a single weapon type gives you about 35% better damage output compared to spreading points across multiple categories.

The most frustrating example came when I tried to make a magic-and-melee hybrid build work. I invested 15 ability points across three different weapon types, only to find my character becoming increasingly ineffective around level 25. Meanwhile, my friend who focused solely on one-handed weapons was dispatching enemies I struggled with in half the time. It's this traditional RPG progression system—what I call the "specialization trap"—that undermines the very experimentation the combat seems designed to encourage. The numbers don't lie: at level 30, specialized builds deal approximately 180-220 damage per second compared to the 120-150 of hybrid builds. When effectiveness gaps become this pronounced, most players will naturally gravitate toward what works rather than what's interesting.

I've been discussing this with other players in online forums, and the consensus seems to be that while the combat system has tremendous potential, the progression mechanics need rebalancing. One player noted that they'd discovered 47 different weapon combinations theoretically possible, but only about 12 are genuinely viable in late-game content. Another mentioned how they'd love to see more modular upgrades that benefit multiple weapon types simultaneously—something that would actually encourage the kind of creative builds the combat system deserves.

What's fascinating is how this tension between specialization and experimentation mirrors larger philosophical questions about mastery versus versatility. There's wisdom in the ancient approaches that modern game design could learn from—the way traditional martial arts often balance multiple weapons rather than hyper-specializing in one. Discovering the ancient ways of the qilin and unlocking their mystical wisdom today isn't just about historical curiosity—it's about recognizing that true mastery often comes from understanding connections and relationships between different systems rather than excelling at just one.

As I approach the endgame content, I find myself increasingly frustrated by how the most interesting combinations—the ones that truly make combat exciting and unpredictable—become practically unusable against tougher enemies. My current build focuses entirely on one-handed weapons because the game practically demands it, but part of me misses those early hours when I could experiment without worrying about optimization. The combat system deserves better—players deserve better. With some adjustments to the progression system and economy, Avowed could transform from a good RPG with conflicting systems into a truly great one that celebrates player creativity rather than punishing it. After all, the most memorable gaming moments often come not from following the optimal path, but from discovering your own way through the wilderness of possibilities.