Bloody hell.
There's almost something refreshing about the way Bloodforge proudly wears its lack of originality or ambition on its sleeve. Essentially an off-brand God of War, with Greek myth replaced by Celtic, it barely sets a toe outside of genre boundaries that have been in place for years.
So you are, inevitably, a furious bundle of muscle and resentment, carving your way through waves of disposable foes. Your name is Crom (the actual Celtic legend that inspired Conan's deity) and you've been tricked by the gods into killing your own wife. This is a tragedy, though as the game doesn't show you Crom's face, preferring to keep him glowering behind a deer skull mask, any emotional investment will have to be supplied by the player, unaided.
So you plough through wave after wave of identical enemies in order to reach gigantic boss encounters, in which you dodge such familiar hazards as giant fists that pound the earth and eyes that blaze fire. Patience is rewarded with carelessly revealed openings which you can then exploit to inflict grisly damage, stabbing them repeatedly in the soft squishy bits with a spot of entry-level quick-time button matching.
