Far Cry: Primal (2016): The Review
Overview
Far Cry Primal pulls off the time-jump surprisingly well, bringing the classic series formula into the Stone Age with a bunch of clever ideas and a wild, dangerous open world. The visceral combat hits hard, the beast-taming system is genuinely fun, and the loop of claiming camps, crafting gear, hunting rare beasts, and gathering resources stays addictive. Where it stumbles is in its weak story, its forgettable quests, and its very plain villains, all of which make Primal feel like a step down from the standout moments that defined Far Cry 3 and 4.
Score: 7.5 out of 10
The Positives✅
Far Cry Primal does something that should’ve been a complete identity crisis, it lobs the franchise 12,000 years into the past, and somehow lands perfectly on its feet. All the familiar Far Cry DNA is still pulsing through it: one guy, hostile nature, and a whole lot of creative violence. It’s basically the classic formula wearing a fur coat and holding a pointy stick.
The prehistoric setting hits harder than you’d expect. The made-up tribal language? It works. The world design? Surprisingly believable. And the characters look like the art team spent weeks hand-painting every scar and bone sticking out of their outfits. The whole package feels raw, grimy, and convincingly ancient. Close-quarters combat is brutal in all the right ways, and being able to tame wildlife, from wolves to sabretooths, adds this extra tactical flavor that just fits the Stone Age vibe perfectly.
Oros itself feels alive. You’ve got rolling plains, thick forests, frozen wastelands, all stitched together into a world that practically begs you to go poke something dangerous. The whole “no guns, just sticks and teeth” thing makes every encounter feel more intense and personal. And honestly? It’s refreshing.
What really carries Primal, though, is the series’ usual loop: explore, hunt, conquer, upgrade. It’s still wildly addictive. Expanding your village and watching the population grow adds a sense of progression that’s way more satisfying than it has any right to be. And when your beast-taming ability kicks in, the whole game starts to open up, suddenly you’re rolling into enemy camps with a cat the size of a car. Peak Far Cry energy.
The Negatives⚠️
The story… yeah, no sugarcoating it: it’s barebones. Takkar is about as deep as a puddle in a drought, and the game never really tries to change that. You learn he’s a hunter, you learn he grunts a lot, you learn he exists. That’s pretty much the whole character sheet.
And normally this wouldn’t be a dealbreaker because Far Cry villains usually show up and steal the entire damn show. Except here? Not even close. Both main antagonists feel like knockoff versions of better villains the series has already done. No Vaas, no Pagan Min energy, just… people who want you dead. Not exactly thrilling.
The supporting cast has personality, some of them are even legitimately fun, but the game barely uses them. They appear, they give you a task, they fade back into the shadows. You never get those big character moments the previous entries leaned on so well. Even the fan-service character feels like he teleported in from a totally different game and got lost on the way to the set.
And mission variety? Let’s say it’s functional. Lots of “go here, fetch this, stab that.” It works, but it’s not winning awards. The fact that the story just quietly drifts until two standard boss fights doesn’t help either.
The Experience 🎮
For me, Primal shifted into “okay, this is fun” mode the moment I accepted that the story wasn’t going to do the heavy lifting. Once I focused on conquering outposts, hunting rare animals, upgrading gear, and building out my Wenja village, everything clicked. The progression loop is dangerously addictive, the kind of “I’ll do one more thing” spiral that somehow turns into four hours.
Beast taming was the real star of my playthrough. Rolling up to an enemy base on a sabretooth felt ridiculous in the best way. Switching to a bear the size of a van? Even better. My owl became my personal Stone Age drone, scouting camps, murdering unsuspecting idiots, and dropping little jars of fiery chaos from above. It’s hilarious and effective.
I basically ignored the main plot for huge stretches because I couldn’t resist exploring every corner of Oros. Whenever I spotted an undiscovered camp, a stranded villager, or some new collectible, I veered off instantly. The village upgrades feeding me extra resources every day made it even more addictive, like the game was rewarding my inability to mind my own business.
Combat stayed fun all the way through. Switching between bows, spears, and clubs mid-fight creates this frantic, messy rhythm that feels exactly right for the Stone Age. Sound design deserves a full award of its own, every animal growl, every crunch, every distant scream adds to the feeling that you’re absolutely not supposed to be alive out here.
My only personal headache? The beast-riding system refusing to let me hop on my tiger unless it was in perfect health. Nothing like being in the middle of nowhere with a half-dead murder-cat who suddenly refuses to be a taxi.
But honestly, for all its flaws, Primal worked for me because of how it felt. The atmosphere, the loop, the constant sense of danger, it all clicked. When the game leans into its strengths, it’s captivating in a way the series hasn’t been for a while. Just… don’t expect Shakespeare with mammoths.
For me, Primal shifted into “okay, this is fun” mode the moment I accepted that the story wasn’t going to do the heavy lifting. Once I focused on conquering outposts, hunting rare animals, upgrading gear, and building out my Wenja village, everything clicked. The progression loop is dangerously addictive, the kind of “I’ll do one more thing” spiral that somehow turns into four hours.
Beast taming was the real star of my playthrough. Rolling up to an enemy base on a sabretooth felt ridiculous in the best way. Switching to a bear the size of a van? Even better. My owl became my personal Stone Age drone, scouting camps, murdering unsuspecting idiots, and dropping little jars of fiery chaos from above. It’s hilarious and effective.
I basically ignored the main plot for huge stretches because I couldn’t resist exploring every corner of Oros. Whenever I spotted an undiscovered camp, a stranded villager, or some new collectible, I veered off instantly. The village upgrades feeding me extra resources every day made it even more addictive, like the game was rewarding my inability to mind my own business.
Combat stayed fun all the way through. Switching between bows, spears, and clubs mid-fight creates this frantic, messy rhythm that feels exactly right for the Stone Age. Sound design deserves a full award of its own, every animal growl, every crunch, every distant scream adds to the feeling that you’re absolutely not supposed to be alive out here.
My only personal headache? The beast-riding system refusing to let me hop on my tiger unless it was in perfect health. Nothing like being in the middle of nowhere with a half-dead murder-cat who suddenly refuses to be a taxi.
But honestly, for all its flaws, Primal worked for me because of how it felt. The atmosphere, the loop, the constant sense of danger, it all clicked. When the game leans into its strengths, it’s captivating in a way the series hasn’t been for a while. Just… don’t expect Shakespeare with mammoths.
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