Summary
There’s no shortage ofgreat action RPGsthese days, but thereisa shortage of recognition for the ones that take heavier risks — that try something different. These aren’t the big-budget juggernauts that dominate every gaming awards show.
These are the ones that got buried under bugs at launch, slipped past mainstream hype cycles, or were simply too weird for the masses. But under that rough exterior? Some of the most creative, rewarding, and mechanically sound experiences in the genre—each deserving a second look, or maybe even a first.
Most players skipped overBound by Flamewhen it launched in 2014, and to be fair, it didn’t do itself many favors. It looked rough, played rougher, and had some hilariously stiff dialogue. But underneath the jank was a combat system with genuine personality. Players could switch between melee weapons and pyromancy on the fly, shaping builds with actual consequences based on how far they let the demonic power within them grow.
Spiders, the same studio that would go on to developGreedFall, leaned into moral ambiguity and reactive storytelling long before that became their brand. Choices affected everything from your party’s loyalty to your character’s literal face. And, whilethe story of a mercenary-turned-hellspawn wasn’t breaking new ground, it hit that rare sweet spot between B-movie charm and legitimate emotional beats. It never reached cult classic status, but it deserved better than being forgotten altogether.
Open-world design is one thing, butElex 2took it to an entirely different, unapologetically chaotic level. The sequel to Piranha Bytes’ genre-fusingsci-fi fantasy ARPGdropped players into a post-apocalyptic world where medieval swordsmen and mechs shared the same skyline. And the gameknewit was weird. It never bothered to hold your hand or explain its systems unless absolutely necessary, which was either a blessing or a curse, depending on who was playing.
While the combat was clunky, the freedom was unmatched. Players could jetpack their way into enemy territory within the first hour, talk their way through impossible situations, or get vaporized for saying the wrong thing. Reputation, faction choices, and long-term NPC consequences made it feel like decisions actually mattered. IfElex 2had launched with a bigger budget and tighter controls, it probably would’ve been considered a genre heavyweight. Instead, it’s that one game in your library that nobody believes you finished—and that’s part of the charm.
There was a moment whenKingdoms of Amalurwas supposed to rivalSkyrim. It didn’t. But what itdidoffer was a ridiculously deep actionRPG framework built on fast-paced, combo-heavy combat and a lore bible written by R.A. Salvatore. The 2020Re-Reckoningremaster tried to fix the original’s balance and itemization issues, but the core was already strong. It just never got the spotlight it deserved.
What madeAmalurspecial wasn’t the story, though it was serviceable. It was the class system, which let players respec at any time and blend rogue, mage, and warrior archetypes however they wanted. That freedom made experimentation feel fun rather than punishing. Throw in dozens of side zones, layered crafting, and skill trees that actually made an impact, and it’s baffling how this one keeps getting left out of ARPG conversations.
Some games hide their best secrets behind multiple playthroughs, andNieR Replicantdoes iton purpose. The remastered version of Yoko Taro’scult classicpolished the janky combat and gave its emotionally brutal story a second lease on life. But calling this just an action RPG feels limiting. It’s a love letter to genre-bending storytelling that just happens to let you dodge-roll and swing a giant sword.
At first glance, it feels like a fairly standard fantasy tale—young warrior, mysterious illness, and fetch quests galore. But by the third playthrough, everything changes. Dialogue shifts, enemies reveal their tragic backstories, and the player’s role as the “hero” becomes disturbingly ambiguous. It’s the kind of experience that leaves players questioning not just their actions, but the medium of games itself. Anyone who skipped it because of the name—or because they assumed it was just a prequel toAutomata—missed one of the most emotionally devastating journeys in ARPG history.
Dr. Jonathan Reid didn’t ask tobecome a vampire, and neither did the players who signed up expecting a typical RPG.Vampyrturns combat into a moral dilemma. Every citizen in its foggy, plague-ridden London has a name, backstory, and relationships. Feeding on them grants massive XP boosts, but it also permanently erases them from the world, alters questlines, and shifts the district’s overall health.
The combat leans into blood magic and soulslike stamina management, but it’s the narrative systems that carry the weight. Leveling up quickly means embracing the monster within. Staying weak means preserving humanity—and watching storylines unfold. That push and pull between power and conscience makesVampyrfeel genuinely risky, and there aren’t many ARPGs that ask players to weigh morality against mechanics in such a direct, punishing way.
When most people talk about the “nextDiablo 2,” they usually throw around names likePath of ExileorLast Epoch. ButGrim Dawndeserves just as much credit. Built on the ashes of the canceledTitanQuestsequel, this indie powerhouse deliveredone of the most flexible class systemsin any ARPG. Dual-classing let players craft wildly specific builds—from poison-slinging occultist-shamans to pet-based demolitionists—without ever feeling boxed in.
What really makesGrim Dawnshine is its attention to long-term impact. Faction choices affect access to vendors, questlines split based on tiny dialogue decisions, and gear drops remain meaningful deep into the endgame. The world of Cairn is grimy, corrupted, and steeped in apocalypse, but its systems are alive with potential. The fact that it quietly outpaces most modern ARPGs in depth, polish, and replayability is proof that not every classic needs a AAA budget to stand tall.
