Hello again, pathetic mortals.

Dagoth Ur here, Sharmat of the Sixth House, Father of the Mountain, and rightful ruler of Morrowind, back with yet another review, this time for Hidetaka Miyazaki's "Shadow of the Erdtree", the first and reportedly only DLC to release for its mother title, "Elden Ring".

Shadow of the Erdtree takes the player to a magical yet barren landscape, not wholly unlike that of blessed Morrowind, in the sense that it seems to also be rampant with infidel n'wahs who will not take a master-level destruction spell to their naked faces for an answer. You are placed here to seek out Miquella, yet another repugnable femboy zoomer celebrity who was dumb enough to ♥♥♥♥♥ himself out to his own half-brother, the Lord of Blood. I have not seen such shameless debasement since the false god Vivec sucked off Molag Bal by the dumpsters in an alley behind Aetherius for 22 septims and a half-eaten kwama egg.

But I digress. With Shadow of the Erdtree, there's no doubt that From Software, spear-headed by their pre-eminent foot fetishist hierarch, have outdone themselves in terms of DLC design, sporting an immense array of grand and intoxicating locations to explore, new items to acquire, new entertaining ways to kill your enemies, and a captivating story to unravel, albeit the latter is critically devoid of any Argonian and Khajiit slaves to carry your fat loot.

There are however, still glaring issues with the balancing and timing of the DLC in the context of the main game itself. Bosses can and will tear your mortal ass apart in a matter of 2-3 hits in a manner not unlike how we did the Dwemer back in 1E, when I took Kagrenac's lunch money, and turned his most prized weapons into implements with which to ascend to immortality. Ahh, those were the days.

Ahem. Another issue is the dungeons: CHIM or not, no one should have to crawl through a Dwemer Stronghold's worth of imps just to retrieve the 403,000 runes that they lost because they were scratching their nose for one second and got their right kneecap clipped by a Death Rancor shot from a Necromancer 5000 miles away. Under my rule, this would be punishable by forced Corprus ingestion deep in the bowels of Red Mountain, while being read the collective works of Crassius Curio, that vile little lecher.

Regardless of its shortcomings, the Sharmat rates this title a generous 7/10, and would recommend.

(However, this would likely be a 6/10 if I wasn't in a good mood after having just scrolled through all the nudes that Barenziah sent me over snap back 2E. Heh heh. That s'wit.)