“What the heck is a Dire Lord?” I asked myself, staring at Pantheon: Rise of the Fallen‘s character creation screen. This was my first inkling that I was about to start playing an MMO that would rarely tell me anything I needed to know. From the absence of practical information about classes and races, to the lack of any in-game map, Pantheon is aggressively against any sort of hand-holding, which makes for an excruciating new player experience.
Amongst the veteran MMO crowd, though, Pantheon’s been making waves. Understandably, too. EverQuest legend Brad McQuaid was developer Visionary Realms’ chief creative officer until his death in 2019, and the promise of an extremely social MMO that maintains a lot of the friction that modern games have done away with sounds compelling. But it’s been a decade since its announcement, and it’s only now in early access, where it will be for at least two years, and it still doesn’t feel close to prime time.
Monk-y business
Case in point: I had to leave the game and search online to get even a shred of information about the early access classes. After I discovered, via a detour to the official website, that the Dire Lord was a tank, I instead rolled a Monk, DPS coward that I am. Specifically, a handsome fish-man Monk. And then I was deposited in a cave surrounded by class trainers. A Necromancer player ran in circles behind me, his skeletal familiar following closely behind. Where am I? This was a question I would not find the answer to for a while.
Pantheon’s tutorials explain the basic stuff that everyone already knows—how to move, how to turn the camera, how to open your inventory—but when it comes to the context of your adventure or even the subtlest hint of what you should actually be doing, the game obstinately refuses to give in. “You’re on your own, kiddo,” it says, as a spell-flinging skeleton murders you.
OK, to be fair, a letter in my inventory did tell me to chat to a tradeskill trainer in a village. But I was not in said village and had no idea where it was. No map. No quest giver to ground me in the world or start me on a fun adventure. I just had to wander around and hope for the best. When I eventually found what I would later discover was one of two exits to the cave, I entered a glade surrounded by mountains with no way forward. I returned to the cave, where a wolf killed me.
Reddit would later inform me that I’d need to dive into the glade’s murky pond, swim to the bottom, and then travel through another cave, which would eventually allow me to start exploring the world proper. Of course the first area’s exit is hidden in a murky pond. Where else would it be? But I made the right call by not leaving, it turns out, because my first unspoken objective was actually to grind a few levels in the cave.
Pantheon has travelled through a wormhole from a time when murdering bats, wolves and the occasional skeleton in a dank cave was the adventure, where little context was needed. Dungeon crawls where the only hint of story came from what you and your companions made out of it—told through your victories, failures and near-misses. Where the developers created systems rather than entertainment.
But if it was ever a joyful experience, it sure as hell isn’t now. In a previous version of this article, I dedicated the entirety of it to my cave misadventures, growing increasingly frustrated and sweary. And then I was going to pack it all in because I do not have the patience for this kind of MMO in 2025. But for some reason I persevered, and somewhere along the way I started to see the appeal, but only by overcoming so many annoyances.
Rat catcher
I hit level 4 exclusively by killing vermin, while occasionally being killed by skeletons. Not the spell-flinging variety, who are meant to be handled by groups, but your regular, solo-grade skellies. Even they can be risky opponents, though. Normally only capable of dishing out 3-5 damage, sometimes they’ll pull off an attack that does more like 35. At my level, that’s instant death. Neat.
But reaching level 4 meant I could leave the cave. I know this because I asked some very helpful players, who confirmed I was good to bid farewell to this dismal prison. I swam through the underwater cave, where I almost drowned, despite being a fish-man, and reached the shore of a lake. Then a thief murdered me in three hits. I respawned in the cave.
At a glance, it’s not clear how tough an enemy is. But you can investigate them by hitting C, which gives you a flavourful description, hinting at how tough they’ll be in a fight. This is one system I actually really dig, but it’s of no use at all if an enemy gets the drop on you. The thief was a group mob, but unfortunately I didn’t have time to discover this until it was too late.
Upon respawning, I found out that there was another exit, but it also required me to run through mobs that were much higher level. So no matter which route I took, I was going to be facing enemies I couldn’t handle. You might argue this encourages players to team up, and to be clear, this is very much the kind of MMO that doesn’t expect you to go it alone, but to surround the small starting area with killer threats, before newbies can even get to the hubs where players gather, just seems needlessly cruel.
Attempt number two saw me avoid the first thief, but then aggro another (who was, frankly, pretty far away), and then two more, who chased me down and killed me once I ran out of stamina. I respawned in the cave yet again. I decided I’d make one more attempt before calling it quits. I found another spot on the shore that looked quieter, but there was no route forward. Just a small cliff. And that’s when I discovered I could climb, Breath of the Wild-style. If I’d known this before, it would have saved me so much trouble.
But that sense of discovery is exciting. Not being fed a list of mechanics and hints means you get that thrill of figuring stuff out yourself. With this revelation, the whole map changed for me, and it made me wonder what else I’d discover as I pushed forward. At first, though, the answer was: not much.
X marks the spot
30 minutes of aimless exploration later—which included getting lost, getting chased by beetles, being gifted my first piece of gear by a friendly player, and achieving very little—I finally found the village that letter in my inventory had mentioned. I have several Reddit posts, two YouTube videos, and the in-game chat to thank for helping me reach my destination. I even started doodling a very primitive map
I haven’t done this in years. But it felt good. The relief I felt when I saw the bridge into the village, and the mass of players wandering around, and finally the tradeskill trainer… it was immeasurable. The journey had been horrible, but reaching this ugly little settlement actually made me feel something. So I get it. I understand why the Steam user reviews section is filled with EverQuest veterans gushing about the fun they’ve been having, and why people have been following this game for a decade.
But that sense of accomplishment didn’t really make up for all the frustrations. Pantheon just goes out of its way to make life needlessly hard. Take, for instance, how quest givers work. It is not clear if an NPC is a quest giver or set dressing until you actually talk to them. In three hours, I clicked on countless NPCs and got a grand total of two quests. They don’t need to have a giant exclamation floating above their head, but any indication that they serve a purpose would be nice—especially since this already exists for merchants, with the cursor changing to a small bag when you get close enough.
Reaching the village, however, did significantly expand my quest log. Sadly not with anything particularly interesting. Lots of gathering and crafting quests, mostly, interspersed with rodent and bandit murder. Crafting even some basic weapons and armour necessitated hours of running back and forth as I raced other players for gathering nodes and manufactured countless components. Everything I made required the purchase of two schematics, the ‘basis’ and then the actual item itself, and after more than five hours of playing I finally had a pair of fighting gloves and a gi, which tragically looked identical to the leather rags I was already wearing.
It’s also worth noting that crafting professions are permanent, so if you pick one that doesn’t suit your class, you’ll need to scrap the character and make a new one to rectify the mistake. This is not remotely clear. Gathering skills, at least, are available to everyone. If you have the tools, you can do it all—chopping down trees, mining ore, and harvesting lots and lots of potatoes.
Fashion crimes
Decked out in my hideous clobber, I once again felt both relief and a sense of accomplishment, but it still seemed like a lot of effort for very little. And while I was enjoying spontaneously teaming up with other low-level players—and the feel of the Monk class, which features a mix of magic and melee, along with attacks that change based on the ki mechanic—I was already starting to burn out.
Every task seemed to necessitate watching another video or scouring Reddit, or at least posing questions to other players, and I just wanted to get on with things—to make some real progress. Pantheon is just so stingy with its rewards, so not only does it feel like work, it feels like work where you aren’t really appreciated. A gig that expects a lot and offers little aside from the satisfaction of doing a good job.
Pantheon is the kind of MMO that demands all of your time. It wants to be your only game. I can play Guild Wars 2 with my pals once a week and feel like I’m making substantial progress, getting into all sorts of world-shaping adventures while earning flashy gear. Pantheon, meanwhile, would require me to embark on a daily grind, while offering a lot less in the way of rewards. It just ain’t for me.
The real dealbreaker, though, is that there’s been no attempt so far to make me actually interested in the world. I couldn’t tell you a single thing about it. I’ve encountered several factions, completed plenty of tasks, and learned absolutely nothing about this place. Between that and a bog-standard fantasy aesthetic and seriously old-fashioned visuals, I just don’t feel much compulsion to explore further. It hasn’t given me any reason to—even though I get why others might stick around.