How to Go Bingo: A Step-by-Step Guide to Winning Strategies
I remember the first time I tried to grasp the rhythm of Skull and Bones' combat system—it felt like trying to dance in quicksand. After unleashing a full broadside of cannon fire, you're left staring at cooldown timers that stretch anywhere from 8 to 12 agonizing seconds, depending on your ship's loadout. During my first dozen battles, I'd often find myself counting those seconds aloud, wondering why the developers chose such a deliberate pace when other naval combat games like Sea of Thieves or even the decade-old Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag managed to maintain excitement through faster cycles. You can technically maneuver to fire bow or stern cannons during these pauses, but ship movement responds with all the urgency of a sleeping whale. Raising and lowering sails takes approximately 3-5 seconds—an eternity in combat terms—completely killing any momentum you might have built.
What fascinates me about this design choice is how it clashes with the game's other elements. The developers clearly weren't aiming for realism when they included supernatural elements like ghost ships and sea monsters that could swallow a frigate whole. I've encountered these leviathans myself during late-game sessions, and let me tell you, nothing breaks immersion faster than waiting for cannons to reload while a mythical beast is tearing planks from your hull. Then there are the support cannons that can heal allied ships—a mechanic I actually appreciate for its strategic depth, even if it further distances the combat from any pretense of historical accuracy.
The boarding mechanics particularly disappointed me. When you finally whittle an enemy vessel down to its last 15-20% health, you get the option to pull alongside and initiate boarding. What follows isn't the swashbuckling adventure I'd hoped for, but rather a 5-second cutscene showing your crew preparing to attack before transitioning directly to the loot screen. During my first successful boarding, I actually leaned forward in my chair, fingers poised over my keyboard, expecting to control my pirate captain in hand-to-hand combat. Instead, I watched a predetermined animation and received some extra resources. It's admittedly smarter from a multiplayer balance perspective—making yourself stationary for extended boarding sequences would turn you into target practice—but it sacrifices that thrilling personal involvement that made naval combat in earlier games so memorable.
Here's what I've learned after approximately 47 hours of gameplay: the combat system does eventually reveal its nuances. Different cannon types have varying cooldowns—explosive rounds take nearly 12 seconds while basic shot clocks in at around 8. Learning to stagger your volleys between different weapon positions creates a more continuous damage output. I've developed a personal rhythm of firing portside cannons, turning sharply during reload, then unleashing starboard weapons that cuts my effective downtime by nearly 40%. It's not the solution I wanted, but it's the one the game provides.
The comparison to Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag is inevitable, and in my opinion, unfavorable. That 11-year-old masterpiece understood something fundamental about naval combat: it should feel responsive and dynamic. I replayed it recently just to confirm my memories weren't rose-tinted, and yes, the combat still holds up remarkably well. The reload times felt quicker, the ship responded more immediately to commands, and boarding actions—while still automated—were punctuated with quick-time events that maintained engagement. Skull and Bones' combat isn't objectively terrible—there's a certain tactical satisfaction in positioning your ship perfectly for a chain shot that disables an enemy's sails—but it lacks the visceral excitement of its spiritual predecessor.
Where the game surprised me was in group combat scenarios. When coordinating with 2-3 other players, the slower pace actually creates opportunities for strategic communication. I've found myself calling out reload status to teammates ("Cannons at 70%!") and coordinating our attacks to maintain constant pressure on tougher targets. The healing cannons become genuinely valuable in these situations, allowing dedicated support ships to keep the frontline vessels in the fight longer. It's in these moments, usually during world events against those massive sea monsters I mentioned earlier, that the combat system finally clicks into place.
Still, the repetition sets in faster than it should. By the time I'd reached the mid-game—around the 25-hour mark—I found myself avoiding unnecessary combat simply because I couldn't face another sluggish exchange of cannon fire. The game introduces variety through special weapons like torpedoes and flaming shot, but these come with even longer cooldowns, sometimes reaching 15-20 seconds. I'd estimate that approximately 60% of combat time is spent waiting rather than acting—a ratio that feels fundamentally unbalanced for an action-oriented game.
If I were advising the developers on combat improvements, I'd suggest reducing base cooldown times by at least 30% across the board. The tactical depth wouldn't suffer—if anything, faster cycles would allow for more complex decision-making as players adapt to rapidly changing situations. The sailing mechanics need similar attention; cutting sail adjustment times in half would immediately improve the flow without sacrificing the weighty feel of controlling a massive vessel.
Despite these criticisms, I don't regret my time with Skull and Bones. There's a peculiar satisfaction in finally mastering its unwieldy combat system, like learning to waltz with two left feet. The moments when everything comes together—when you position yourself perfectly between two enemies, timing your volleys to keep both disabled while your teammates move in for the kill—are genuinely rewarding. They're just too few and far between, buried under layers of unnecessary friction that prevent the combat from achieving its full potential. For now, I'll continue sailing these waters, but I'll always wonder what might have been with just a little more willingness to prioritize fun over methodical pacing.
