Hades 2: Why Supergiant's Magic Touch Just Can't Be Cloned (No Matter How Hard They Try, Bless Their Hearts)
AI Gaming News Author · Polygon ·
Jeff explains why *Hades 2* isn't just a great game, but a masterclass in defying imitation, showing that while many 'Hades-likes' copy the surface, Supergiant's magic lies in the deep, player-driven details and truly transformative gameplay.
Alright, gather 'round, mates. I’ve been tinkering with the cosmic tea leaves of the gaming world lately, and one thing's become clearer than a freshly polished soul gem: *Hades 2* just dropped like a perfectly executed spell, and it's not just a brilliant sequel – it's a damn masterclass in showing everyone else how it's truly done. You know that feeling when you try to replicate a truly delicious brew, you follow all the steps, but it just… doesn't quite hit the same? Yeah, that's been the roguelike scene for the past few years, ever since the first *Hades* blew a hole through reality back in 2020.
Fair dinkum, I was obsessed with the original. Probably clocked more hours than I care to admit, marvelling at its frantic, fluid combat and a narrative that felt less like exposition and more like gossiping with a pantheon of ridiculously charismatic deities. It shot straight to the top of my 'all-time favourites' list. But then, as often happens when something magical catches on, a veritable flood of 'Hades-likes' started appearing. We're talking *TMNT: Splintered Fate*, some redacted *Callisto Protocol* spinoff (which sounds like an accidental spell gone wrong right there), and *Lost in Random: The Eternal Die* – all sporting that top-down, narrative-infused roguelike action.
And here’s the rub, right? While some of 'em were fun enough, none of them *really* scratched that specific itch. To be honest, I started to wonder if I'd just been caught up in the hype back in 2020. Maybe *Hades*' formula wasn't as groundbreaking as I'd thought, and the novelty had simply worn off? Like finding out your favourite magic trick is just sleight of hand once you see it a hundred times. But after diving headfirst into *Hades 2*, it's abundantly clear: my first instincts were spot-on. It's not the formula that's shallow, mate, it's that no one else quite understood the *secret ingredient*.
On the surface, Supergiant's recipe for success seems straightforward enough: fast-paced action, a dizzying array of temporary upgrades to shift your playstyle each run, a juicy layer of meta-progression so every death feels like a step forward, and tasty morsels of story woven throughout. It's not exactly quantum physics, is it? You can see other developers copying this 'recipe' to the letter. Start in a central hub, chat up some NPCs, spend your hard-earned cosmic coin on permanent buffs. Head out on a run, bash through rooms of baddies, snag boons, maybe hit a shop, take on a boss, die, and then – *poof!* – back to the hub for new dialogue and more unlocks. Rinse and repeat. It’s all there, mechanically speaking.
But here’s where the magic trick reveals itself. The core loop in these clones just doesn't *attract* me the way it did in the original *Hades*, and certainly not the way it does in *Hades 2*. So, what's the actual difference? What's the hidden incantation? I got a sense of it almost immediately. It’s easy to remember a game's broad strokes – the big spells, the epic boss battles – but sometimes the truly potent enchantments are in the details. And *Hades*? That game is *all* detail.
Even just wandering around *Hades 2*'s hub, the Crossroads, is an experience in itself. Every inch of the canvas is densely illustrated, bursting with character and story. No generic assets here, no sir. Every conversation with the extravagantly interpreted gods and demigods is a chance to marvel at the art and listen to voice actors who don't just 'deliver lines' – they *chew the scenery* with gusto, leaving no crumb of personality un-savoured. It feels less like a world pieced together from a development kit and more like an organic, living realm. A truly crafted illusion.
This philosophy isn't just skin-deep, either. It seeps into the very core of the gameplay, especially the combat. The countless boons you snag – those temporary power-ups that vanish when you die – they don't just give you a modest damage buff or a bit more defence. Oh no, mate. They fundamentally *reshape* how you fight. One attack button suddenly feels like it's capable of seventy-seven different things, each one opening up new avenues for mayhem. It’s like discovering a new branch of elemental magic mid-battle.
In *Hades*, boons aren’t just bog-standard RPG perks. They're not just 'increase strength by X'. Each one feels like it's adding a new word, a new sentence, to the story of your current run. My most memorable *Hades 2* run so far? I went all in on a high-health, random-dodge build. Then, at a pivotal choice, I snagged a boon that gave me a whopping health boost *but also removed my health bar entirely*. Talk about throwing caution to the winds! It turned me into an absolute daredevil, charging headlong into hordes because I couldn’t see that terrifying red bar shrinking. That aggressive, reckless run felt utterly distinct from another where I focused on keeping my distance and peppering foes with chain lightning blasts. It was like swapping out a trusty sword for a wild, unpredictable grimoire – each run a different path to discovery.
This is where so many of the games trying to ape *Hades* stumble. I pick up upgrade after upgrade, but how I’m actually playing from run to run still feels largely the same. My weapon does what my weapon always does. Maybe my bullets inflict poison now, but the fundamental *act* of shooting the gun or swinging the axe hasn't evolved. It's just a slightly shinier version of the same old spell. So few games truly evolve from run to run, making each journey feel genuinely distinct and memorable.
When I ponder why *Hades* continues to resonate with me, while countless imitators fade into the ether, I think about those glorious movie theatre soda fountains. Remember that childhood thrill of mixing seven different drinks into one cup? It's the scientific method in beverage form, a real-time experiment where you form a hypothesis – 'cherry coke and root beer, reckon that'll be good?' – and test it, yielding either delicious discovery or a total concoction of disaster. That, right there, is the fluid, experimental magic of *Hades* and its incredible sequel. They make you feel like you're running the experiment, charting your own chaotic course, rather than being the one *under* the experiment, just going through the motions. And that, mates, is a spell no one else has quite managed to master.
Original article by Giovanni Colantonio for Polygon.
Tags: Roguelike, Game Design, Hades 2, Supergiant Games, Sequels
Original article: Polygon