Pick your poison
World of Tanks is a selfish game. It acts selfishly in that it hides information from its players, expecting them to figure out any and all intricacies on their own. Similarly, it asks its userbase to roll into combat as a team, but only concern themselves with individual performance. Selfishness permeates the spirit of this game.
Though, I suppose we shouldn’t expect any different from World of Tanks. Simple as the premise may be, real tank conflict would be undoubtedly difficult, and these types of titles tend to skew toward realistic to a degree. All’s fair in love and war(gaming).
World of Tanks (PC, Xbox 360, Xbox One [reviewed])
Release Date: July 28, 2015 (Xbox One)
MSRP: Free-to-play (with microtransactions)
Really, World of Tanks treads the line uneasily that all massively multiplayer online titles do: How do you make a game like this rewarding and nuanced for experienced players, yet inviting and engaging enough for a new audience? Extrapolating from that (and more importantly): How do you convert both Group A and Group B into dollar signs? Wargaming doesn’t always do a great job of it, as its intentions often seem paper-thin.
That aforesaid selfishness is where the moneymaking lies though, and it can come at the expense of the experience. World of Tanks on Xbox One gives people no reason to press forward except for personal gain. Being killed in a match means it’s the end of that match as far as you’re concerned. Sure, one could theoretically watch the rest of the round through the cameras of other players, but literally no one will do that. Instead, they’ll head back to the garage, hop into another tank, and try again in a different match.
This was my exact experience for much of my time with World of Tanks. After several hours of playing (but possibly more spent in loading screens), I checked my stats to see that I had a victory rate of just about 50 percent. That’s not bad at all, but I had no idea. Worse yet, I didn’t really care. I only cared about the currency dripfeeding into my account at the conclusion of each match. That’s all World of Tanks wants us to care about.
The last statement is made obvious by the way which Wargaming organically introduces players to some later-game content. During matches, it’s not completely uncommon to come up against an opponent that seems literally invincible. Your ammunition will do next to nothing to it; it will dispose of you with the disdain of a Midwesterner swatting one of a thousand mosquitoes on a humid July night. That is your goal — you want to be that guy.
Make no mistake about it: World of Tanks is a continual left-to-right surge through a spiderweb of tanks you don’t yet have, but might have very soon. Those first few come relatively quickly and the progression feels real. After that, everything gets slower. Each match contributes, but less so than before. Looking ahead through that web, some of it seems unattainable (or at the very least, extremely far off). World of Tanks wants your time or your wallet — pick your poison.
Fortunately, giving it your time isn’t the worst option. World of Tanks can be rewarding. Every hit landed on another player is satisfying. Blowing them up is exponentially better than just damaging them. Surviving the entire match, destroying several on the other team, and/or capturing a base might just make you feel like you’re General Patton. You start to think “I’m getting better. If I keep playing like this, those end-game tanks will be mine in no time!”
These are the immutable highs of World of Tanks. It’s simply enthralling when you set off on a literal warpath and cut down everything in your way. This is the meat of the game, and it’s a prime cut. Excelling at tank-play against other humans feels very, very good.
At this point, imminent defeat in the next match is all but assured.
That’s where World of Tanks is at its worst. Barring the progression frustrations, it’s all too often that you’ll feel like your opponents know something you don’t. Their death machines are probably superior to yours, sure. Still, they’ll angle their tanks in such a way that they never expose the weak part of the armor that you didn’t even know was weak. They’re really good, and you’re not sure how to get to that level. The game doesn’t teach you, and it doesn’t seem like you’ll ever learn on your own. It’s very unintuitive.
For everything that might appear impossible, what you do pick up on your own is invaluable. It isn’t long before rushing in looks like a fool’s game. Flank, hide, proceed with caution. These vehicles may be harbingers of destruction, but you can’t treat them as such. Each minute movement actually means something when you’re in the thick of it. These are the times when you’ll feel a strategic sense in World of Tanks. Suddenly, things aren’t so bad again. Everything seems possible, at least.
And, that’s what World of Tanks thrives on — a cyclical mindset between frustration, slight progression, and back to frustration. There are intermittent spurts of elation peppered in occasionally in the event of an outstanding performance. Otherwise, it’s right back to not quite understanding why others know more than you do. Which poison did they pick? Time or wallet? Or, heaven forbid, both?
Anyone who truly appreciates World of Tanks won’t need a review to guide them. They’re already well beyond the long barrier to entry. Everyone else will likely find themselves similarly on the outside looking in. There might be something special to World of Tanks, but it’s not something that’s immediately apparent; it’s something that only shows itself after a significant investment. The gameplay can be rewarding at times, but most won’t have the patience (or the money) to ever get to that point. Thus, World of Tanks won’t ever be more than a quick detour on the way to something that’s easier to comprehend.
[This review is based on a retail build of the free game downloaded by the reviewer.]