I have to admit it — I didn’t plan to play Assassin’s Creed Rogue. I’m not really the type of girl who usually spends her free time hunting Templars, leaping off rooftops, or navigating icy seas. But after weeks (and I mean weeks) of my boyfriend insisting that I “just give it a chance,” I finally gave in. His enthusiasm for the Assassin’s Creed series is almost religious — he talks about it as if it were a sacred text. So, one lazy weekend, after hearing the phrase “You’d totally love Shay’s story!” for the tenth time, I decided to see what all the fuss was about.
I didn’t even start from the beginning of the series. Nope. The first Assassin’s Creed game I came across was Rogue, and I thought, Why not? I had no idea that this one was actually set somewhere in the middle of the saga — apparently it’s “advanced” in the timeline or something like that. My boyfriend rolled his eyes so hard when I told him that. But I went ahead anyway, controller in hand, no expectations, no idea what an Assassin or a Templar really stood for.
And you know what? My first impression wasn’t bad at all. In fact, Rogue looks beautiful for its time. The aesthetic pulled me in almost immediately — the sharp contrast between the frozen landscapes of the North Atlantic and the warm tones of the colonial cities creates a perfect balance between danger and discovery. The atmosphere feels alive; the snow crunches under your feet, the wind howls against the sails of your ship, and the music quietly pushes the adventure forward. It’s immersive in a way I didn’t expect from a game that came out years ago.
The story, from what I can tell so far, is intriguing — even if I don’t fully understand all the references my dear historian of a boyfriend keeps throwing at me. He’ll say things like, “Oh, that’s a callback to Connor!” or “Wait till you meet Haytham!”, as if I should instantly know who these people are. I just smile, nod, and let him enjoy his moment. But even without all that background, Assassin’s Creed Rogue tells its story well enough for a newcomer like me to get invested.
And let’s talk about the characters — because honestly, they’re what kept me playing. Shay Cormac, the protagonist, has that reluctant hero energy I always find interesting. He’s not the typical flawless Assassin; he’s flawed, conflicted, and his transformation from Assassin to Templar gives the whole story a moral twist I wasn’t expecting. But what really surprised me were Liam and Hope. I don’t know if it’s just me, but I totally sense some romantic tension there. Liam’s stubborn charm and Hope’s cool confidence make them such a compelling pair. I caught myself thinking more than once that they’d look great together — maybe that’s the hopeless romantic in me talking, but their chemistry is undeniable.
Gameplay-wise, it’s actually fun — and I say that as someone who doesn’t usually play action-adventure games. The combat feels surprisingly smooth, and the naval battles? Oh, those were a delight. There’s something oddly satisfying about steering a ship through icebergs while cannons thunder around you. I might not be a pirate, but for a few moments, Assassin’s Creed Rogue made me feel like one. And even though I’ve died more times than I’d like to admit, I never got frustrated enough to quit. That’s a good sign.
Of course, not everything is perfect. Sometimes I get lost with the amount of information the game throws at you — like the names, factions, and historical context that all blend together in a storm of confusion. But that’s more on me than the game. I can already tell it’s part of a much bigger universe that I’ve only just touched the surface of. My boyfriend insists that once I finish Rogue, I’ll have to go back and play Assassin’s Creed III and Black Flag to “really understand everything.” We’ll see about that.
For now, though, I’m genuinely enjoying my time with Rogue. It’s been a pleasant surprise — not the kind of game I’d have chosen on my own, but one that I’m glad I tried. It feels like I’ve stepped into a world that’s both strange and familiar, full of beauty, betrayal, and quiet moments that stick with you. I’m still early in the story, but it already feels like a journey worth taking.
Maybe I’ll write more once I’ve finished it — about the story twists, the heartbreaks, and how it all fits into this grand Assassin’s Creed universe my boyfriend swears by. For now, though, I’ll just say this: sometimes, it’s worth listening to the person who won’t stop recommending something. You might just end up liking it.