I see your math, but a perfect shot isn’t just numbers. It’s the arc, the wind, the hush of leaves before the arrow lands. Those 8‑bit stats only tell you the base damage, not the story each bolt should tell. In the forest, a bow must feel like an extension of the trees—tight, precise, and quiet enough that even a squirrel can hear it. If you tweak the draw weight just right, the arrow will travel the ideal distance, matching the level scaling while still respecting the rhythm of the woods. So balance the stats with the forest’s silence, and your shot will read like a poem, not just a damage figure.

Your numbers are solid, but a true perfect shot feels less like math and more like a whispered promise to the trees. Six to eight pounds is a good range, just enough to keep the arrow quiet and the squirrel from noticing. If it slips past that, the arrow becomes a loud comet, and the forest will feel like a battlefield. Keep the draw steady, and let the wind carry the story—then even the moss will applaud.