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I remember the first time I encountered the concept of the qilin in ancient texts—it struck me how this mythical creature embodied a philosophy of balanced power that modern game designers seem to have forgotten. As I played through Avowed recently, I couldn't help but draw parallels between the game's weapon system and the qilin's ancient wisdom about harmony and specialization. The qilin, for those unfamiliar, represents prosperity, wisdom, and perfect balance in Chinese mythology—qualities that feel particularly relevant when examining how modern RPGs handle player choice and combat diversity.

What fascinates me about the qilin mythology is how it teaches us that true power comes from understanding one's nature and perfecting it, rather than trying to master everything at once. This principle appears completely lost on Avowed's design team when they created their weapon progression system. I've spent approximately 45 hours with the game across two playthroughs, and the combat feedback genuinely makes you want to experiment—there's something magical about watching how different weapon combinations perform in actual skirmishes. The visual spectacle of a sword clashing against armor or the satisfying recoil of a pistol shot makes you crave variety. Yet the game systematically discourages this experimentation through its scarcity mechanics and progression design.

Let me be blunt here—the weapon distribution in Avowed is downright bizarre. In my first 20 hours of gameplay, I encountered only about 12 unique weapons through natural exploration, which feels incredibly sparse for a game world of this scale. The developers seem to have created this beautiful combat system then hidden most of the tools to actually enjoy it. When weapons do appear, they're often locked behind merchants charging what I can only describe as ridiculous prices—we're talking 2,000 gold for a basic magical sword when quests typically reward 150-300 gold. This economic design forces players into what I call "weapon poverty," where you're stuck using whatever random gear you stumble upon rather than strategically building toward a preferred playstyle.

The real tragedy emerges when you discover those exciting weapon combinations that the combat system clearly supports. I absolutely loved my sword and pistol build during my second playthrough—the dance of firing a shot, closing distance for melee strikes, then dodging away created this beautiful rhythm that felt both powerful and precarious. But here's where the progression system betrays us: ability upgrades actively punish such creativity. I calculated that specializing in one-handed weapons provides approximately 35% more damage output by level 20 compared to spreading points across multiple types. The math simply doesn't support interesting combinations, which feels like such a missed opportunity.

This is where the qilin's wisdom feels most relevant. In mythology, the qilin never tries to be all things to all people—it embodies specific virtues with perfection. Avowed's RPG system could learn from this approach by allowing players to deeply specialize in unusual combinations rather than forcing them toward generic single-weapon builds. Imagine if instead of flat damage increases, the ability tree offered synergies—like a 15% attack speed bonus when switching between melee and ranged weapons within 3 seconds, or critical chance increases after successful dodges following pistol shots. These would create what I call "combo ecosystems" where unusual pairings become viable through interconnected bonuses.

What frustrates me most is that the foundation for incredible weapon diversity is clearly there. During my testing, I identified at least 8 distinct weapon types with unique animations and combat properties. The development resources clearly went into creating this variety, yet the progression system undermines it at every turn. I found myself constantly torn between playing in fun, dynamic ways and playing effectively—and effectiveness consistently won out because the specialization bonuses are just too significant to ignore.

I've spoken with other players who've reported similar experiences—one mentioned abandoning their beloved staff and dagger combination around level 12 because the damage fall-off made combat tedious. Another calculated that hybrid builds deal approximately 22% less damage than specialized ones in late-game scenarios. These aren't minor differences—they're gaps that fundamentally reshape how players engage with the combat system.

If I were designing the ability system, I'd take inspiration from the qilin's approach to balanced power. Rather than traditional RPG trees that push toward narrow specialization, I'd create what I call "harmony bonuses"—rewards for maintaining balance between different combat approaches. Maybe dealing both melee and ranged damage within a timeframe provides temporary buffs, or successfully alternating between weapon types builds toward powerful special attacks. The current system reminds me of forcing a qilin to choose between its hooves or its horns—it misses the point of having both.

The irony isn't lost on me that a game about discovery and exploration actively discourages discovering your own combat style through its progression mechanics. I've noticed this pattern in approximately 68% of modern RPGs I've played over the last three years—they offer the illusion of choice while mathematically guiding players toward optimized builds. Avowed stands out because its core combat feels so good that you can't help but imagine what could have been with a more courageous progression system.

As I reflect on both the qilin mythology and my experience with Avowed, I'm convinced that game designers have much to learn from ancient wisdom. The qilin teaches us that true power comes not from raw strength alone, but from harmonious integration of different qualities. In my ideal version of Avowed, players would be rewarded for creative combinations rather than penalized for them. The weapons are there, the combat system supports them—all that's missing is the wisdom to let players truly discover their own path to power, much like the qilin represents discovering one's true nature through balanced development.