Mahjong Ways 2 Gameplay Secrets: 7 Pro Strategies to Boost Your Wins

The first time I loaded up The First Descendant, I felt that familiar rush of a new looter shooter. The screen exploded with muzzle flashes, numbers danced over enemy heads, and my character zipped through the air with a grappling hook that felt absolutely fantastic. I’ve spent the last week diving deep into its world, and while the combat is snappy and the movement is a genuine thrill, I’ve hit that same wall many of you probably have: the loot feels utterly, distinctly bland. It’s a paradox. The action is so good, so kinetic, that it makes the gear grind feel even more disappointing. You’re constantly submerged in a torrent of nebulous loot, most of which is instantly dismantled because every assault rifle feels like every other assault rifle. You stop looking at the model, the feel, the unique perks—you just pick the one with the highest DPS number and move on. It’s a problem, and it got me thinking about reward systems in other games, even ones in completely different genres. It’s a lesson I’ve applied elsewhere, like when I’m deep in a session of Mahjong Ways 2. In fact, understanding the core mechanics and payout structures is crucial, which is why I always recommend looking up a guide like Mahjong Ways 2 Gameplay Secrets: 7 Pro Strategies to Boost Your Wins to understand the real value behind the symbols and spins, a principle that feels sorely missing here.

Combat is the undeniable star of the show here. The standard assortment of assault rifles, snipers, and shotguns generally feel impactful. There’s a real weight to blowing an enemy away with a shotgun blast, and the audio design makes each shot feel chunky and powerful. Well, unless you're fighting one of the game's notorious bullet sponge enemies. That’s when the fun can grind to a halt, turning a dynamic firefight into a tedious war of attrition where you’re just waiting for a health bar to deplete. But for the most part, seeing those damage numbers pop up as you fill a target with lead is as inherently satisfying as it usually is in this genre. Where the game truly shines, and where it separates itself from the pack, is its mobility. Each character has access to that grappling hook, and it’s not just a gimmick. It’s a core part of the combat loop. You can zip around the environment, pull yourself toward a distant enemy to deliver a devastating melee strike, or quickly escape a tight spot. The First Descendant is a fairly mobile shooter and it absolutely incentivizes constant motion. You’re not a stationary turret; you’re a acrobat with a gun, either avoiding incoming fire, venturing into a crowd of enemies to unleash AOE attacks, or zipping to the outskirts of a battle to take out a pesky sniper. This fluidity is what kept me playing for hours on end.

But then you get to the loot, and the entire momentum screeches to a halt. After a particularly intense 20-minute boss fight, my screen was flooded with colored beams and icons. My inventory was full. I spent the next five minutes—a full 300 seconds—just sorting through it all. And for what? I found three different "Viper" model assault rifles. One was blue, one was purple, one had a slightly different stock. But after a quick glance at their stats, the choice was meaningless. The blue one had a DPS of 4,812, the purple one 5,110. I dismantled the blue one without a second thought. There was no excitement, no "oh wow, this one has a unique perk that synergizes with my build!" It was a simple math equation. This is the game's biggest failing. The loot you earn from all of this fantastic shooting is distinctly bland. You're constantly submerged in so much of it that most of it feels meaningless. It’s a shower of forgettable gear, a paradox of plenty where having more actually feels like having less.

I was talking to a friend who’s a game designer about this, and he pointed out something interesting. He said, "A lot of live-service games confuse quantity for quality. They think that by showering the player with 50 items per session, they’re providing value. But what they’re really doing is training the player to ignore 49 of them." He’s right. In my first 10 hours with The First Descendant, I estimate I’ve picked up over 1,000 individual pieces of gear. I can only remember two: my first legendary sniper rifle and a cosmetic I bought from the premium store. That’s a terrible ratio. It reminds me of a session I had last night. After getting frustrated with the loot grind, I switched games to something completely different to clear my head. I fired up a few rounds of Mahjong Ways 2. Now, that’s a game that understands the psychology of a reward. Every tile matters, every spin is a calculated risk, and a big win feels earned because you understand the mechanics behind it. I’m not just waiting for a random number generator to bless me; I’m actively employing strategies. It’s the same mindset you need for any game with a progression system. You can’t just rely on luck; you need a plan. It’s the core philosophy behind any good strategy guide, much like the principles you’d find in that essential article, Mahjong Ways 2 Gameplay Secrets: 7 Pro Strategies to Boost Your Wins. If The First Descendant’s loot system had that same level of thoughtful design, where each gun felt unique and impactful rather than just a vessel for a DPS number, it would be a genre-defining masterpiece.

So, where does that leave us? With a game that has an A+ foundation and a C- endgame. The moment-to-moment gameplay is some of the most fun I’ve had in a shooter this year. Zipping around with the grappling hook, diving into a group of enemies, and unleashing hell is a sublime experience. But the core loop of any looter shooter is the loot, and right now, it’s the weakest part of the package. It lacks soul. It lacks identity. Until the developers address this, until they make me care about the fiftieth assault rifle that drops, The First Descendant will remain a game of incredible potential that hasn’t quite stuck the landing. I’ll keep playing for the combat, but I’ll be hoping, desperately, for a loot revolution.