Launching upward off a jungle floor and bursting through a thick canopy of trees, bobbing and weaving your way under a waterfall as you take in the lush landscape below you, is one of the highlights of Anthem. Flight, in these moments, is freeing, serene and exhilarating all at once. But you will eventually have to come back down to earth. When you don’t have a means to cool down in the air, you have to interrupt your flight to cool off on the ground–or else your suit will overheat and send you careening downward much more violently. This is what Anthem is like as a whole: a game where promising moments are bookended by frustration, where good ideas are undone before they can be fully realized.

It can take a while to warm up to Anthem in the first place. In its intro mission, you are a rookie Freelancer–a hero type who battles threats to humanity in mechanized combat suits called javelins. But that brief mission ends in failure, and after a two-year time skip, you’re now an experienced Freelancer. As a result, everyone talks to you as if you know everything about the world, even though much of the game’s space-fantasy jargon is explained only in codex entries. “Shapers,” “Arcanists,” to “silence” this or that “relic”–all the dialogue is structured as if you already know what all these things are, so there’s not even an element of mystery to it. It’s just hard to follow.