This week, I mostly ignored my PC in lieu of being on holiday, and now I am filled with rage.
I'm not really a PvP boy. It's not that I'm friendly, but I am absolutely cowardly. Gimme some AI to stomp, rather than a sweaty gamer who might—god forbid—actually be better at the game than me. This is why the only extraction shooter I've really vibed with is the striking, atmospheric, PvE-only The Forever Winter. But with Arc Raiders being all anyone can talk about at the moment, I thought I should at least check it out.
But the moment I met my first group of also-humans, I went into my default mode, more than three decades of gaming teaching me to shoot first, ask questions not at all. It was a fun encounter. My group, which included PC Gamer's global EIC, Phil Savage, only survived by the skin of our teeth, as we frantically tried to come up with a strategy on the fly. I ended up downed, as did our third compatriot, but we still managed to come out on top (thanks, Phil).
This fight set the tone for the rest of my confrontations. Sometimes I'd be the hunter, unloading a clip into an unfortunate soul just trying to climb a ladder; sometimes I'd be the hunted, losing an inventory full of loot to an absolute bastard. I've yet to hear a single word being uttered in proximity chat.
I've heard some great anecdotes about impromptu battlefield friendships, but the shoot first approach—whether it's me or my opponent doing the shooting—is just as capable of generating memorable moments.
After some extremely successful (and murderous) runs, my crew had found itself stuck in a rut, culminating in a particularly depressing match where, our bags filled with loot, we duked it out with another party, put them down, and too late realised that another trio was just outside, waiting to pick off the victor with a seemingly infinite supply of grenades.
Going into the next game, we were desperate, reduced to carrying only the most basic of equipment. We needed a win, not just for our confidence, but so we could actually escape with the loot we needed to feel any sense of progression.
We were cautious and paranoid. The crackle of gunfire turned us into meerkats, frantically searching for its source so we could avoid it. We snuck through buildings, going for the easy wins, trying to stay undetected for as long as possible: the whole match, if we could help it. And we'd done well! Each of us had an inventory bursting with goodies, so all that was left was for us to peace the hell out of there.
As I climbed up a ladder, my back suddenly became a bullet magnet. I miraculously survived, but I didn't expect that to continue. We were all so scared of losing our bounties that we barely even tried to fight back—not that we really could have. We'd wasted most of our ammo on drones.
We took the odd potshot, but mostly we fled. During a particularly foolhardy moment, I thought I might make a last stand, trying to become one with the wall that served as my cover. But then the smoke fell, and I knew what was coming. A charge. A trio of better-armed, more bloodthirsty humans, spraying bullets and death. I couldn't let them get my junk.
I sprinted, rushing over and between buildings, running and shouting and praying that we could lose our pursuers. I hollered with excitement when I realised we'd done it, only to find myself prey once more, as three drones started tracking me from the air.
I was on my own now, too. Phil had rushed to help our downed ally, who'd unfortunately walked right into a big ol' robot. I didn't know where I was going, only that I needed to break line of sight. The mouse was slippery under my sweaty hands, and even for me, a very sweary Scot, I was cursing an inordinate amount.
The rest truly is a blur. I managed to run right towards Phil, even though I was simply trying to avoid death. I slid down a hole, into a subway, and after Phil checked we were all here and living, we summoned our exit. We did it. We fucking did it. God, I felt good. Shaking and sweating, but good. We all needed a lie down after, though.
Even as someone that doesn't usually go out and seek PvP, this sort of thing strikes me as a bit more rewarding than awkwardly saying "I'm not hostile" to a stranger and hoping they won't shoot me. And actually less risky.
Sure, I've felt the pang of guilt here and there. When we watched a trio tangoing with some drones, waiting for them to be at their most vulnerable before striking, I didn't feel great. But what did feel great was looting their corpses and going home with a bunch of handy junk. And not shooting first runs the risk of never being able to shoot at all. Because you're dead.
Maybe I will change my mind later—when I actually encounter players who don't want to fight. They must be out there, because I've heard so much about these friendly meetings. To the point where the community is now at war with itself, split up as it is into two factions: diplomats and killers.
It's an interesting state of affairs. Firstly, because Arc Raiders doesn't really go out of its way to encourage cooperation between rivals. There's no reason not to think this is a typical PvP extraction shooter, aside from the fact that some folk have decided it is. And also because the community has found a new way to be confrontational.
Playing Arc Raiders as a PvP game now means you're a wrong 'un, if you listen to some of the pro-diplomacy lot. There's a thread of toxic anti-PvP weaving through the subreddit, to the point where a mod has felt the need to step in and put a stop to it. Videogame communities are my favourite source of irony.
Some players have even taken it upon themselves to be Arc Raider's cops, which is genuinely fascinating but something I simply cannot get behind. And just like real cops, these players aren't always great at identifying bad guys.
So I feel even less encouraged to be a good boy now. My natural pettiness makes me want to rain on the diplomacy parade. But at least I'm honest about being an arsehole. I ain't over here pretending to be noble in a videogame. What I won't do, though—and this is a sincere promise—is pretend to be friendly and then shoot you in the back. Or front. No matter how objectively hilarious it is.
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