Gothic Remake’s lockpicking system has broken me and I can no longer experience joy

Gothic Remake is a sandbox-shaped RPG, which naturally means that you will probably encounter some locks that need to be picked, requiring you to fiddle with a terrible minigame. All lockpicking minigames are fun-sapping chores, but Gothic’s is especially egregious.

Essentially you’re just trying to line up a series of sliders by moving them up and down. Except most of the sliders will also move other sliders, but you don’t know which ones until you try. If you attempt to move a slider too far, you damage your lockpick. It’s quite possible, then, to break your lockpick when you’re still trying to figure out how the sliders move.

I was irritated by this system straight away, even though I had to acknowledge that it’s better than what the original Gothic gave us, where you’re blindly trying different combinations and hoping to luck out.

But it was one specific shack, filled with chests, that broke me. I am now a broken man. There is no joy in my life anymore. I guzzled down one of my favourite beers last night and could only taste disappointment.

The shack in question belonged to a shady merchant in Gothic’s Old Camp, Fisk. He’d already tried to swindle me, so I decided I would get some sweet, sweet revenge by robbing him blind. I waited until everyone had gone to bed and broke in. The lock on his front door was a pretty simple one and I only had to do a tiny bit of save-scumming.

Everything fell apart after that.

Attempt #1

Optimism level: High | Frustration level: Low

Four chests greeted me inside. I picked one at random, my confidence bolstered by the fact that I’d unlocked the front door in just two attempts. A new record!

I was quickly punished for my confidence. Most of the sliders were set as far as they could go, and every one I tried to move caused others to move in the wrong direction, damaging my lockpick. I’m pretty sure I failed to move a single slider before it broke—and this was with the lockpicking specialisation, which increased the durability of my tools.

This was not my first rodeo, though. I’d saved right before attempting to break into the chest. What a clever thief.

Attempt #2

Optimism level: Flagging | Frustration level: Irate

After my first failure I decided to give up on that chest and its nightmare lock. I’d try a different one. But first I had some bullshit to deal with.

The moment I loaded in, Fisk woke up. There was no logical reason for this. I was sneaking when I saved, and I was still crouched when I loaded in—except I immediately and automatically stood up at the exact same time as Fisk. Given that these events happened simultaneously, I don’t think standing up woke the merchant. And why would silently standing break someone’s slumber anyway?

I can only assume, then, that the simple act of loading up a save in Gothic is loud. Maybe I was dropped from the sky or something? I imagine that makes a racket.

Regardless, Fisk was not pleased to discover me (or my companion) looming over his bed. He chased us out with his weapon in hand.

Attempt #3

Optimism level: The pits | Frustration level: Audibly swearing

I didn’t even get near the lock in my last attempt, so the bar had hit rock bottom. At least that’s what I thought. I was about to be proved wrong.

Fisk was back in his bed, finally, and I went to the furthest chest from him. This one wasn’t quite as evil, and I just had one more slider to line up. I could just feel the treasures inside, beckoning me. This was going to be it! My greatest moment.

That’s when Fisk woke up again. I wasn’t making a noise or moving. Even the sliders were still. Maybe he needed to pee? As a man of a certain vintage, I get it.

Anyway! Fisk had already warned me before, so this time he just started attacking straight away. Which made it the perfect time for my companion—a feckless buffoon called Mud—to lock me into a brief conversation. While Fisk was murdering me.

Naturally, I died.

Attempt #4

Optimism level: Abyssal | Frustration level: I need to strangle someone

I loaded up a save, Fisk woke up and raised his weapon, and I just started swinging. I had no armour and just an old sword, but I did not care. At one point, I hit Mud, and it felt so good I did it again. He fled. I prayed that he’d bleed out. I hate him so much.

I tried to escape, but three more dudes charged at me. Fisk alone could have easily killed me, but with four of them it was like watching a baby trying to fight some MMA superstars. It ended badly for me. The baby.

Dead again.

Attempt #5

Optimism level: I am dead inside | Frustration level: I do not care any more

The game crashed.

I wish I could say I just gave up at this point. I no longer even wanted whatever was in those chests. But I couldn’t let Fisk win. I couldn’t even recall why I wanted revenge. But I kept at it. And eventually I did it. I bloody well did it. I opened a stupid chest, to discover… some junk and a bit of ore.

And that’s when I finally called it a day. No more lockpicking for me. No more crimes. I have learned my lesson.

Bonus round

OK, so maybe I like crime too much. Because I did go back for more. I even opened a second chest, which contained my first bow. Of course, things still didn’t go to plan. This time it was during the day, with Fisk outside, with his back to me. But his spidey-senses must have been tingling because he caught me red handed.

And that’s when I discovered something very, very interesting. And by interesting I mean extremely janky. Because neither Fisk or his pals would come inside. They unsheathed their weapons and threatened me, but would never cross the threshold, even as I started filling them with arrows from my stolen bow.

It was a bloodbath. A glorious bloodbath.

So I might not be a great thief, but I’m an excellent murderer.