Part of me agrees with most of the criticisms people have repeatedly raised about the series' many inconsistencies and loose-ends, both here and elsewhere on the Forums. I was quite disappointed that in the final production they didn't better realise their efforts of linking the previous titles together. The actual reasons for these omissions seem rather intricate, but appear to be largely the result of constraints of time late in development, critical editing, and the necessity of releasing a game with a unified, more or less easily accessible story-line. The initial ambition for the game seems to have been rather high, but revisions had to be made -- as they must in all creative efforts -- and some salvage work was needed to preserve the core vision they had for the story.
Be that as it may, personally there are many small details, and many larger ones, which I keenly missed in Wild Hunt, especially from Assassins of Kings. They could certainly have done more, striven for greater continuity, and The Witcher III would be quite another game entirely as a result. However, it would have taken much more time, money, and attention. The game would have perhaps not been released for another year or two, by which time interest might have waned a bit. Therefore, they probably chose to pursue the configuration which led to the game we now have, and concentrated upon different aspects of continuity than most enthusiasts from the series would have liked. Will they redress these points and strengthen the game's integrity within the series? Probably not (just as they never improve the interconnections between The Witcher and The Witcher 2.) Moreover, even if they hazard the attempt, the finished product will almost certainly never be to the satisfaction of all of their most harsh critics. Part of me wishes they would make the effort, nonetheless, but only a part.
Another part of me -- perhaps the more realistic part -- is inclined to accept the game for what it is, and enjoy it for what it is: ambitious, impressive in its shear scale, visually beautiful, and narratively interesting in its details, though ultimately deficient in many places, while exceptional in many others. It's a fine piece of entertainment in its own right, to the extent it is able to deliver, but should probably be best judged on its own rather than in relation to the other games. To this end, I try to treat each game as an individual piece or art, and assess it by its personal achievements. Owing to the changeable fashions of games, and the fluctuating audience they attract, I think is a reasonable expectation for the medium as art. (I rather doubt they can quite yet entirely replace books.)
As a parting thought, I'll offer for contemplation an abridged quotation from an Old Norse Saga from the 14th-century*, which has always been a favourite of mine, and seems of perennial relevance to the subject of criticism in different ages:
*Göngu-Hrolf’s Saga, translated by Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards, University of Toronto Press (1980).
Be that as it may, personally there are many small details, and many larger ones, which I keenly missed in Wild Hunt, especially from Assassins of Kings. They could certainly have done more, striven for greater continuity, and The Witcher III would be quite another game entirely as a result. However, it would have taken much more time, money, and attention. The game would have perhaps not been released for another year or two, by which time interest might have waned a bit. Therefore, they probably chose to pursue the configuration which led to the game we now have, and concentrated upon different aspects of continuity than most enthusiasts from the series would have liked. Will they redress these points and strengthen the game's integrity within the series? Probably not (just as they never improve the interconnections between The Witcher and The Witcher 2.) Moreover, even if they hazard the attempt, the finished product will almost certainly never be to the satisfaction of all of their most harsh critics. Part of me wishes they would make the effort, nonetheless, but only a part.
Another part of me -- perhaps the more realistic part -- is inclined to accept the game for what it is, and enjoy it for what it is: ambitious, impressive in its shear scale, visually beautiful, and narratively interesting in its details, though ultimately deficient in many places, while exceptional in many others. It's a fine piece of entertainment in its own right, to the extent it is able to deliver, but should probably be best judged on its own rather than in relation to the other games. To this end, I try to treat each game as an individual piece or art, and assess it by its personal achievements. Owing to the changeable fashions of games, and the fluctuating audience they attract, I think is a reasonable expectation for the medium as art. (I rather doubt they can quite yet entirely replace books.)
As a parting thought, I'll offer for contemplation an abridged quotation from an Old Norse Saga from the 14th-century*, which has always been a favourite of mine, and seems of perennial relevance to the subject of criticism in different ages:
*Göngu-Hrolf’s Saga, translated by Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards, University of Toronto Press (1980).
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