Lastly, the heart-munching adrenaline you feel in front of your PC is mirrored in the soldier you're controlling. It doesn't make a huge difference, but I had more fun in non-realism mode. Realism mode, which is activated on roughly half of the servers currently running, removes certainty altogether by taking out friendly names, kill confirmations and the radar. There's no ammo display on the HUD you have to check the barrel for a rough estimate, or count your own shots. Wherever it can, RO2 makes murky what other games want to be clear. Are they dead? Did you miss? Are they wounded and bandaging themselves? Is it safe to move on? You can only hope. From the shape of the helmet, you'll infer that it's an enemy and fire. You'll be fighting across the ruined tenements on the wonderful Pavlov's House map, and you'll spot a head in a window across the street. Secondly, there's no instant kill confirmation. If you're close to someone, looking at them, and they're on your side, their name will appear, but often you don't have that kind of time. The uniforms are distinct, but not the fluorescent green cycling jackets you need on a smoky battlefield.
Sometimes, but not this time, it would be the way he clutches his stomach, yelling in Russian, or the way he fires his machinegun madly during his last few seconds of life.ĭeath in RO2 is so sudden and violent that you're constantly on edge, an experience that's exacerbated by all the little pieces of information the game is keeping from you.įirstly, at a distance there's no easy, instant way to tell if a soldier is on your side. It's in the way he fell, forced by some terrible weight. It's in the mark on your enemy's chest where the bullet hit, and the way his blood spritzed from his back, marking that bullet's exit. It's the little things that make the difference, such as the sound of your own breathing when you lifted the rifle to your face, and the way it bobbed slightly in your hands. It's exactly like a million other games, but it feels nothing like any other game. Looking down through the rubble, you see an enemy soldier break from behind a wall. Every room could conceal an enemy soldier, and you've died a hundred times already, always from that one angle you didn't check.
You've got your back against the wall in a room with one door, two windows and three walls, and you're peeking around a corner into the exposed core of a half-destroyed building. You're a soldier in either Hitler or Stalin's army, and you're shit-scared.
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