Blood II: The Chosen – A Masterclass in Mediocrity

Oh wow, Blood II: The Chosen. Where do I even begin? This game is truly the crown jewel of 1998. I mean, who needs polish or cohesion when you have edgy one-liners, gratuitous violence, and a storyline duct-taped together with what I can only assume were discarded pages from a 13-year-old’s notebook?

Let’s talk graphics. LithTech engine, baby! Cutting edge—for maybe five minutes in 1997. Everything is gloriously brown, because who needs color when you’re bathing in the warm sepia tones of dystopia? The environments are so empty and repetitive that you’ll start wondering if the true horror isn’t the Cabal, but the architecture.

And the characters? Chef’s kiss. Caleb returns, still trying desperately to be Duke Nukem's goth cousin, but now he’s got friends! Four playable characters, each one more forgettable than the last. Their banter is as sharp as a butter knife and just as thrilling. Every voice line sounds like it was recorded in a basement during a Monster energy drink bender. Which, honestly, adds to the charm.

The gameplay? Oh, it’s a dream. If that dream involves fighting the same five enemies in bland corridors while your weapons feel like they’re made of PVC pipe and regret. But hey, at least the AI is consistently terrible. Watching enemies run straight into walls or just forget you exist is a refreshing break from competence.

And let’s not forget the story. Something about an evil corporation, ancient prophecies, alternate dimensions… look, it’s very deep. Deep like a puddle. On a sidewalk. In summer. You’re better off reading a fortune cookie for narrative satisfaction.

In short, Blood II is an experience. Not a good one, not a memorable one—but an experience. It’s like being hit with a nostalgia brick wrapped in mid-'90s jank. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll uninstall. And yet, somehow, it still holds a strange place in people’s hearts, probably out of sheer Stockholm Syndrome.

Play it if you hate yourself. Or if you just want to watch Caleb snark his way through a game that should have stayed in a coffin.