Ah, The Lord of the Rings: Return to Moria, or as I like to call it, “The Fellowship of the Bleh.” Now, I’m not going to lie. When I went onto Steam for my usual window shopping and saw that the game was finally available, I jumped at the chance to buy it for myself and my partner so that we could have a weekend doing what we love most: playing games, geeking out about Lord of the Rings, and building bases.
And in theory, you’d think venturing into the legendary Mines of Moria, with dwarves as your merry (and likely very drunk) companions, would be a thrilling ride through Middle-earth’s darkest depths. Well, allow me to save you some coin and the better part of your sanity/date night by declaring that this isn’t quite the precious gem you’d hoped for.
In fact, The Lord of the Rings: Return to Moria feels more like a lump of coal and not the kind you can even mine because mining in this game is as restricted as Sauron’s social calendar after the War of the Ring.
So what do we get in Return to Moria? Well, if I’m being as nice as possible, you get a bog-standard survival game that feels less like a homage to Tolkien and more like an obligatory name-drop to entice fans.
The worst part of the entire thing is that the game clearly understood the assignment. It just failed it anyway. For example, here is your classic survival game checklist:
Build your base? Check.
Cook rat meat? Check.
Craft some unimpressive weapons and stab at goblins who spawn like it’s an orc’s birthday party? Also, check.
But here’s the problem: none of these survival mechanics are done better than in many other, far more enjoyable games. It’s as if Return to Moria borrowed all the surface-level stuff from survival games but forgot to bring the fun.
And if you’re reading this going, “But what about the lore, Arielle?!” don’t worry; as a lore nerd who dreamt of exploring Middle-earth’s Fourth Age. I got you.
So, in a nutshell, everyone’s favourite bearded projectile, Gimli, returns (voiced by John Rhys-Davies, so points for that, I guess) to rally the dwarves for a homecoming party in Moria, where you, too, get to reclaim your lost kingdom, by throwing together haphazardly built hovels and decorating them with whatever scraps you can find.
But as soon as the game starts, the story falls apart and instead exists as an excuse to trot out references to The Fellowship of the Ring because, apparently, subtlety went out the door with Sauron’s defeat.
And then… there’s the combat, or as I like to call it, Death by Boredom. Now, I don’t want to sound like I’m whining for whining’s sake, but I’m not even kidding when I tell you that my sees-the-good-in-all-games partner was ready to throw in the towel almost as soon as he took the first swing.
Combat can be summed up as you repeatedly fighting the same brain-dead goblins, who respawn like they’ve got nothing better to do than give you a headache.
Blocking, stabbing, repeat, oh, and occasionally dodging while lamenting your life choices.
I’m pretty sure the AI in this game is secretly plotting to destroy your will to live. And when you’re not yawning through combat, you’re trying to navigate Moria’s absurd base-building system, where freedom is just a word Tolkien used for hobbits, not for players.
Now, let’s talk mining because, you know, dwarves. You’d think being a dwarf in a mine would mean, oh, I don’t know, digging? Nope.
You’re limited to chipping away at pre-designated spots as if Middle-earth has zoning laws against breaking ground in places not approved by the Dwarven Council.
Want to dig a tunnel and explore the depths of Moria? Tough luck, Frodo. Stick to the sad little veins of ore the game allows you to touch. If this were any less restrictive, Gandalf would have to sign a permit before letting you mine the Balrog’s old stomping grounds.
So, as much as I’d love to regale you with tales of epic building projects and cunning strategies, the truth is, the game doesn’t want you to have that kind of fun. The building mechanics are restrictive, combat is a snooze fest, and exploration is as linear as a Nazgûl’s flight path.
In a world where games like Minecraft, Core Keeper, and countless others let you create whatever your nerdy heart desires, Return to Moria feels like it’s handing you a plastic pickaxe and a “Please Don’t” sign for every creative idea you might have.
Then, I’ve not even touched on the technical performance, which is so bad that the rest of the review up until now was just a warm-up. I’m talking glitches, bugs, frame drops, disappearing items—basically everything but a Gollum cameo to make you wonder why you’re still playing.
And when trying to enjoy the game with others, it’s even worse. “One does not simply… join a lag-free game of Return to Moria,” says Boromir in my head.
In conclusion, if you’re hoping for an epic, dwarven-led romp through the bowels of Middle-earth, I suggest rewatching the movies to save yourself the disappointment.
Return to Moria is neither a triumph of Middle-earth’s lore nor a worthy survival game. It’s a stone you should leave unturned. Save your gold and toss this one into the fires of Mount Doom. It won’t be missed.
