Arc Raiders made me feel actual shame. Let me explain why I mean that as a compliment. I had spawned in the Buried City, one of the four beautifully sprawling, post-apocalyptic maps that Arc Raiders launches with. Outside, sand is piled high against the decaying remains of apartment buildings, libraries, and weatherworn car parks. The skies are filled with flying ARC drones that relentlessly patrol key thoroughfares, attacking any humans they encounter with shock weapons and machine guns. The plazas and squares, meanwhile, are home to stomping robotic behemoths, capable of mowing down entire squads in a hail of bullets.
Me, I'm tucked away indoors, a squad of one rifling through desk drawers, cupboards, and crannies in search of crafting materials. So far, my pack contains nothing more valuable than a few dusty seed packets and tattered rolls of duct tape. Things start to look up, however, when an unassuming nightstand rewards me with a weapon blueprint. My excitement grows when a cobwebby wardrobe gives up an epic grenade. And I audibly gasp when I open a discarded bag to find a legendary weapon attachment. Life is good. All I need to do is make it to the extraction point past those fearsome ARC robots and my fellow player-controlled raiders without getting mulched by either.
