Serious Sam: Siberian Mayhem

w końcu stary poczciwy serious sam - miodzio :D

eбaшиtb чертей которые вылезли из сибирско-язвенного скотомогильника в сибири и подрабатывать пво на омском нпз и сбивать дроны 11 чертей/10

so this is how it feels to be pandered to

There is not much to say abiut this game. It is like Serious Sam 4, but shorter. I liked Serious Sam 4, and I liked this game (it's all relative, of course. This game is still mostly a boring waste of time) Some levels are pretty nice, with some level design, and some levels are just square kilometres of open space with thousands of enemies. The latter weren't very good. Just like with the base game, dual-wielding is absurdly overpowered and I never used the double-barrel shotgun after the first level. This game also gives you three high-damage hitscan weapons, completely destroying any notion of 'weapon matching'. Since the campaign is short, it is only on the last level that you reach a point where none of your other weapons matter because you can and should just use your general DPS options to kill everything, which I would say is a good thing.

Man this game has ups and down a lot. I enjoy and find it fun at start but on the proceeding chapters it become tedious, frustrating, and boring. Its uninspiring for me. The last chapter is the most frustrating part for me. At hard difficulty this game is horrible. The enemies just keep spawning at your face like an endless wave of enemies. Also the performance sucks. I dunno I wanted to like this game but I can't. When playing chapter 4 - 5 I wanted to end it already and move on from the game.

Хорошо

[h1]The Quiet Heart of Siberia: What Humanity Leaves Behind[/h1] We had reached a frozen land, a remote corner of Russia. General Brand was in possession of the Holy Grail, and we had no choice but to cross this vast expanse of snow. Great slabs of ice rose from the restless, foam-flecked ocean, while dark hills, cloaked in endless pine forests, stretched towards every edge of the horizon. Alien forces lay in wait for us. Yet this place itself felt like a womb, quietly preparing us for the final battle. My sister and I paused to breathe it in, allowing the crisp mountain air and the boundless breath of the steppes to settle the turbulence within us. For a fleeting moment, the silence of the frozen world became our sanctuary before the storm. How bitterly cold it was. The freshness of this place seeped into our very being. To keep ourselves warm, we told one another, there was only one answer: to dance. It reminded us of Braid's betrayal. He had chosen to sell the Earth, trading his allegiance for another side. And so the question lingered: what does it truly mean to be human? Yet before we could dwell on it, our thoughts returned to our friends. We wondered what had become of them. Hellfire was resilient, unyielding. So we, too, would endure this frozen land. Perhaps vengeance deserved to come first. Yet to surrender ourselves to it would mean abandoning those who still needed us. The cold, the crystal-clear horizon—this remarkable place where every path invited us to marvel at the beauty of the landscape, whether beneath an open sky or within the heart of a snowstorm—did little to steady the mind as we walked and danced to the rhythm of gunfire and explosions. And if we allowed ourselves to see only the blasts that shattered the silence, we would overlook, just as vengeance so often does, what Siberia concealed within its womb. The storm was drawing near. We searched for familiar voices, for any trace of the resistance, hoping someone was still there to answer our call. We walked. We ran. We wove from side to side in a gentle zigzag, our footsteps becoming a small ballet upon the snow. Perhaps humanity itself lay beyond our grasp. How vast the distance seemed between the people who belonged to this land and those of the world we had come from. Different customs. Different tongues. Different ways of enduring the same sky. And yet it was not humanity that these places abandoned, but people. The endless steppes, forgotten installations, buried bunkers, weathered churches, and silent villages all carried the weight of desolation. Everything had been left behind, and in that abandonment solitude revealed itself with even greater clarity. We were merely the ones who happened to tread upon those forsaken lands. We had travelled a long way. After crossing the wilderness on a snowmobile, gliding through swirling banks of cloud beneath the quiet blessing of sunlight, we arrived at a tiny village the world itself seemed to have forgotten. There, we found a note. It spoke of a little girl who had gone missing by a frozen pond. She had lost her toys. Without a word, we followed the path. We came upon a small homestead. Its doors stood open. The sound of our footsteps crunching through the snow echoed back to us, crisp and hollow in the stillness. My sister knocked gently at the door. A little girl answered from the other side. She told us she had lost her toys by the frozen pond, only a short walk from her home. Without hesitation, we set off. The house had fallen into neglect. Only a few cabbages still struggled to grow in the small farm beside it. Nearby stood three graves, their wooden crosses each a different height. Time and wind had erased the names. Here remained the trace not merely of humanity, but of what teaches us to care for one another: to grieve for someone whose trust it would be unthinkable to betray. How could we betray the little girl who had asked for our help? Our hearts beat with a borrowed sorrow as we made our way to the pond. There we found it. A teddy bear sat quietly upon a tiny sledge. Before it yawned a dark hole in the frozen surface, like those cut by fishermen into winter lakes in search of fresh fish beneath the ice. I lifted the bear with the utmost care. Then the aliens came. They descended upon us in relentless waves, yet we refused to yield. We carried that small treasure back through the storm as though it were something infinitely more precious than any relic. And when we returned, our hearts broke. The little girl's voice had belonged to a ghost—the lingering soul of the last member of a family that had never found its peace. As soon as the teddy bear was placed in her hands, she, too, was finally able to rest. She vanished, leaving us alone in her tiny sanctuary. We could say nothing. We stood in silence, our grief answering hers across the emptiness she left behind. Was this what Brand had never understood? Not simply the refusal to surrender, but the refusal to understand another soul. If humanity means caring—for people, for memories, even for the small objects that carry our love—and we are no longer capable of feeling that bond, then perhaps we have already lost ourselves. We remained there for a while, saying nothing. When at last we gathered ourselves again, we lingered for one final moment, gently playing with the teddy bear before setting it down. Then we continued on our journey. The snow gradually gave way to the open steppe. The air remained cool, while the sun greeted us with a quiet warmth, its light resting gently upon our faces. There we met a sniper. She welcomed us with effortless hospitality and offered us a small gift. Inside her home, candles burned with a tranquil glow. My sister and I found ourselves drawn to them, and together we bowed our heads in prayer. Earlier, we had heard Ledov and his companions over the radio. Somewhere in this forgotten corner of the world, they were fighting a battle of their own. We met them not long afterwards. It was not simply the joy of finding other people—after all, my sister and I were never truly alone. It was the quiet certainty that we could help them keep resonating with one another, that we could help preserve their laughter a little longer. Let me help you so that you may remain joyful. That was the thought that lingered between us. Let your heart continue to beat. Keep walking the path you have chosen. Perhaps that is what humanity truly is: helping another person remain whole. And there is no brighter place to discover that light, whether our friends are Russian or come from somewhere far away, than in the moments before tragedy reveals itself. We found that light aboard a train. After helping Ledov and his companions escape—they, in turn, guiding us towards the front—we travelled beside them across Siberia. One of them knew how to play the guitar. Its melodies drifted through the Trans-Siberian carriage while others shared bottles of vodka and sang together. My sister and I settled quietly into our seats, watching the serene sun slowly surrender its radiance to the gentle darkness of evening. The steady rhythm of the train lulled us onwards, almost like the contented purr of a living creature. All of this—the care, the peace, the simple grace of sharing a journey—belonged to a world that General Braid could never understand. We would realise as much once we heard the future he had imagined. But for now, only one thing mattered. To reach the front. To keep our purpose clear and our eyes fixed upon the horizon. To care for our friends, whatever the cost. And so we continued our journey, all the way to its end.

Baya iyi, çok iyi. İkinci oyundan iyi mi? İşte orasını bilemedim.

So I just finished the campaign and I loved it. They kept the core mechanics and the games identity just like the old Serious Sam games something a lot of companies have failed to do and Im surprised. I have to say the music in this version is a$$. I always loved the Serious Sam series music and it was one of the strongest points of the games. It has a talent tree and its simple. That simplicity makes it enjoyable. Your guns deal good damage, and hitting enemies weak spots does great damage which makes the gameplay so much fun. W game. W developers. W Sam.

why so short?