I can still remember the first time I set foot in Skyrim. Everything seemed so big—its map, its trees, its mountains, its townships—and I spent my first couple of hours aimlessly wandering around its world. Having completed not one quest beyond the game's de rigueur introductory exchange, my under-powered hero was often left pegging it across the plains from far stronger foes and, of course, I revelled in the occasions where I rode my luck and came out on top.
One particular battle of note saw me going toe-to-toe with a tenacious bandit. It was a tiresome affair as we fought back and forth, exchanging trivial single blows from Windhelm all the way up to Winterhold. By the time I'd run out of potions of minor healing, I threw caution to the wind and went in for the kill/valiant defeat. At the time I remember being amazed by how good close-quarters combat felt—how important each weighty jab felt, and how satisfying it was to see the beleaguered bandit finally fall before me.
It was then that I was equally amazed by something else: this bandit was carrying gold, two minor stamina potions, a secondary sheathed weapon and an apple. And as if that haul wasn't surprising enough, my character—who could barely swing a sword at this point—was able to determine the fallen enemy's concealed inventory instantly. Sure, the shield and the sword and the fur armour were readily recognisable, but how the hell did my hero know this dude had a piece of fruit tucked away in his pocket just by looking at him?
Despite Skyrim, BioShock and Dishonored being among my all-time favourite videogames, one thing that inherently annoys me in their self-acknowledged quests for seamless realism and 'immersion' is how unbelievable instantaneous looting is. Even with x-ray vision, it would take decidedly longer to ascertain what's on our foe's person than the respective lightning-fast evaluations of the Dragonborn, Jack and Corvo.
Hinterland's survival exploration game The Long Dark does things a little differently. In a game where weapons are a curious luxury—and where your ability to use them is almost nonexistent—scavenging and looting is not only central to its makeup, but is also key to whether or not you make it through the night alive. A simple 'Searching' meter dictates how quickly you're able to case containers, shelving units, supply crates, corpses and more—and its speed in doing so reflects how quickly, or slowly, you might expect to sift through an old drawer or a frozen, lifeless body's pockets in reality.
At first you'll shrug off the searches that wield nothing, as you quickly move onto the next stuffing your pockets with whichever treasures you happen upon. But before long, when you're starving, dehydrated, injured, sick, freezing, or, as is often the case, all of the above, a single search can be the difference between life and death. Suddenly, an instantaneous search doesn't seem so bad, as that once innocuous 'Searching' bar takes on a whole new level of urgency and importance: whereby the closer it gets to completion without spoils, the further your heart generally sinks.
And yet, conversely, that extra wait can result in flashes of unparalleled joy. During one venture into the icy wilderness, I'd become slightly over-encumbered and, of course, stumbled upon a pack of blood-thirsty wolves. I spotted an ice lodge up ahead and decided to try to circumnavigate the mob by going wide into the encroaching trees. Or so I thought. Before I knew it I was being hunted down at speed and the forest in front of me that I'd attempted to use for cover did nothing but impede my beeline for safety. I wound up on the deck with a ravenous wolf gnawing at me. After shaking the beast off I was gravely injured, bleeding out and carrying entirely more than my weakened body could handle.
I tried ditching a few bedrolls to lighten the load, but it was clear my priority was sourcing medicine and fast. I hobbled along to the lodge leaving a trail of blood at my back, only to discover I had a wolf bite on my head of all places that had a 50 percent chance of becoming infected. Carrying just one dose of antibiotics, I was equipped to stave off the infection, but without any bandages I wasn't going to last much longer.
After a quick scour of the room, I spotted a locker, two drawers, a plastic container and a first aid box. Rejoice! Over to the first aid housing. Searching… a flare! Okay! Not the most useful item, but back to the search. More antibiotics. Search over. Shite. Onto the container. Nothing. The first drawer. A chocolate bar and a pair of worn gloves. The last drawer. I'm done for. Searching… Another chocolate bar. The search drags on. A bandage. A F****ING BANDAGE! I'm saved!
And of course by 'saved', I actually mean 'able to treat my wounds, sleep, and leave the cabin only to be mauled to death by the pack of wolves who'd camped outside my door overnight'—but let's not split hairs, eh?
That urgency, that forced and uncomfortable searching pause, and that moment of elation when a game that's otherwise brutally unforgiving throws you a bone is nothing short of marvellous. I've of course had umpteen useless searches end my life in The Long Dark as I fight against the clock, but the anticipation of each scramble is a thing of beauty—which can equally relate to discovering food when you're starving, firewood when you're freezing, or, if you're especially lucky, a firearm when you want to get your own back on that blasted wolf pack.
A few weeks back, The Long Dark launched a mysterious counter which we're almost sure is tied to its much-anticipated and as yet absent Story Mode. That timer expires tomorrow—stay tuned for our coverage once we know more.
Open world survival game The Long Dark entered Steam's Early Access initiative in 2014. It first teased its much-anticipated Story Mode in late 2015, and set a provisional due date of spring 2016. That slipped, forcing Hinterland Studio to post a lengthy community update in December explaining it didn't want to rush something that wouldn't meet both it and players' expectations.
The developer has now launched a mysterious countdown which, at the time of writing, stands at 22 days, five hours and 30 minutes. Besides the game's logo and iconic axe moniker there's nothing else to go on beyond that, except the option to sign up for further updates.
The folks over at The Long Dark's corner of Reddit are convinced this is it, and, against the delays and Hinterland's previous updates, I struggle to imagine they're wrong. As part of the December update, Hinterland quoted Shigeru Miyamoto's philosophy on delayed games saying "a delayed game is eventually good, but a rushed game is forever bad."
Here's an excerpt from that update, posted by Raphael van Lierop:
"2016 has been a challenging year for me, and for Hinterland. We opened the year with the plan of launching Story Mode this past Spring, but I just didn’t feel good about where things were at, given the compromises I felt we were making to do that. I wanted to push further, do more, with the game, knowing that after all this time of you waiting for Story Mode, it would have to be something truly groundbreaking to really live up to your expectations. And to live up to our expectations.
"It’s been a constant balancing act between keeping our Sandbox players engaged and happy with updates, and also having the majority of the team working away on Story mode. Since it’s difficult to share Story progress without spoiling it, people sometimes feel as though we’re not working on it, which is frustrating for them, and for us. We deal with this by trying to stay focused on our launch and remember Miyamoto’s adage: “A delayed game is eventually good, but a rushed game is forever bad.” We appreciate all of you who continue to support us patiently."
When The Long Dark's Story Mode finally arrives, it promises new regions which will serve to flesh out the background of the game's end-of-days scenario, and will let players see how the Aurora affects the world. New hazards are planned too, which we'll (hopefully) have the chance to see in detail come May 4.
Below, a thin crevice carved into the rock. Above, the stars. I wasn’t quite at the roof of the world but I was definitely in some sort of grim penthouse. The cold didn’t bother me anymore, frostbite having chewed the nerves out of my extremities, and the cold wouldn’t claim me. Nor would the wolves that seemed determined to keep me on the mountainside. I’d decided to die on my own terms. I stepped into the void.
That morning, I’d been reflecting on how grand life can be as I cooked freshly caught whitefish on a pot-bellied stove, snug inside a lonely cabin by a frozen lake. This wasn’t The Long Dark [official site], this was an escape from the rat race, and I was happily prepared for the challenge of Timberwolf Mountain, looming overhead.