We landed on the shores of a randomly generated world like six confused Einherjar. Now, 240 hours later, our longhouse towers over the sea, every biome has been conquered, and the Mistlands lie behind us.

The good:
1. Biome-based progression feels earned. Each region is its own chapter, with its own language, its own fears. The Swamp is a gritty warzone. The Mountains a test of preparation. The Plains? A nightmare at first. The Mistlands? A beautifully alien endgame that demands patience and tactical magic use.

2. Base building is sublime: Weight mechanics, terrain shaping, structural integrity—it all just clicks. We spent hours decorating a mead hall with dragon trophies no one would ever see but us.

3. Atmosphere is unmatched: haunting music, dynamic weather, and that weird, dreamy fog that rolls in at the worst possible time. It’s not just survival. It’s vibe.

4. Boss fights are atmospheric and brutal—especially in co-op. Taking down Moder with siege towers we built ourselves? Peak Valheim.

The painful parts:
1. The grind for resources gets real. Progression starts to outpace fun if you don’t pace yourself.

2. Ocean travel is majestic… until you have to corpse-run from 3 islands over in the fog.

3. Progression walls in late game demand a group or extreme patience (Dvergr forts, anyone?).

4. Inventory Tetris never goes away.

Valheim is not just a game, it’s a place. One you shape, survive, and eventually come to miss when the final boss falls. Playing it with friends multiplies the magic. From the first deer kill to the final Gjall takedown, it’s a game that rewards memory-making over min-maxing.

240 hours in, we weren’t just stronger. We were different. And we still say “I dream of the sea” every time we log off.