When I finished watching Game Award Revealed trailer for Rumbleverse, the new battle royale game published by Epic that looks a bit like Fortnite but with melee combat, I raise my eyebrows sarcastically. “Wow, that looks awful,” I choke, knowing full well that I’ll still give it as soon as possible because I’m an absolute battle junkie.
Two things happened after that day that I didn’t expect. First: I had the opportunity to dive in By Rumbleverse The action-packed 40-player matches were much earlier than I expected, as part of a day-early gameplay review. I downloaded and installed it shortly, and joined immediately. Two hours later, at 1 a.m. when the servers closed, a second, much more unexpected thing happened to me. I found myself completely desperate to play more. I’ve immersed thousands of hours in Apex Legends, Fortnite, Plunkbat, Hunt: Showdown, Warzone, and many other massive properties of the genre. However, those two hours I spent playing Rumbleverse maybe was the most fun I ever had in battle royale.
Rumbleverse’s big take to the battle royale formula is its focus on close combat. You have basic attacks, which can be blocked, and evil attacks, which cannot be blocked but can be dodged. It’s simple and familiar, and provides a solid foundation on which Iron Galaxy developers can quickly tackle complexities like jump attacks, throwables, and special skills. which you have to learn by reading magazines between battles.
That hardly scratches the surface, but there’s little point in going any deeper into it because an hour with the game will teach you what you need to know. There are no instructions other than some guide boards in the pre-game area, but I find myself needing nothing more than that. With each death, I learn something, and then I join another match after 30 seconds, using my newfound knowledge. At the end of the session, I got rid of more unstable players as if I had been playing for months rather than minutes. It all feels very intuitive, and that allows me to get through that frustrating “I don’t know what’s going on” phase in a flash and start to really appreciate how much fun things are.
Rumbleverse is the kind of game that often makes you laugh even if you die yourself. There was one match where I got embroiled in this free-for-all brawl at this big street level with about six other players. In the end, it was just me and a beautiful bearded bodybuilder. I mean this guy has 50% muscle, 45% facial hair, and 5% spandex. In a moment of protracted drama, we circled around each other, both mortally wounded, respecting each other’s skill, each waiting for the other to strike. Just then, there was a wonderful hollow “THOCK” noise: some rooftop bastard threw a wooden plank at my head, knocking me out instantly. I howled from laughing. It can be frustrating if the comic timing isn’t quite perfect.
In another match, two other players and I fought a fierce battle around a coveted health-boosting chicken. Street signs were ripped from the ground and smashed into people’s heads. The chair is thrown. Confused people were… confused. I finally discovered my moment while the other two were struggling. I rushed over, picked up the chicken, zoomed in on the wall of a nearby building, and then stood on the rooftop mulling over my hard-earned feat, watching my two opponents fight to the death for the prize. Neither of them noticed. half of my digestive tract.
That’s another aspect of this game that gives me endless pleasure: the value is placed on the chicken. In the Rumbleverse, the amount of health is very large and must be reduced slowly. Elsewhere, the high health tank can make me groan, but it really suits this game and it avoids the frustration familiar in other battles when your match ends abruptly. confusing because you get shot in the head by a sniper in a bush eleven miles away. . Due to the high health and the focus on melee, I find there is a degree of control in these matches that I find very refreshing. Constantly having a third person is an inevitable part of the genre, but here it feels more manageable because I can distance myself from enemies and heal.
Or I would, if I had any chickens. Most of the time there’s no passive health regeneration in the Rumbleverse, so you’re dependent on finding chicken thighs and rare whole chickens to get you back into a combat-appropriate state. They’re very valuable items, so whenever someone brings out a chicken, it’s like that moment in The Incredibles where Mr. Incredible holds Syndrome’s remote with a victory scream, half a second before being crushed by the Omnidroid. There were a few moments in my time with the Rumbleverse where someone would use a drumstick to try to cure a disease, and suddenly everyone within a half-mile radius would be as interested in them as a pack of burly and pounding hyenas. them to the ground so they can take them away. chicken for themselves.
There’s something so familiar about this combination of deep, skill-based mechanics and frequent moments of stupidly satisfying chaos that makes me stop and wince at my screen. It was like certain moments I had in Nidhogg and Chivalry. Maybe it’s a melee combat thing, I don’t know. But it’s definitely not something I’ve experienced in battle royale before. In about two hours, Rumbleverse completely shocked me, both in terms of skill-based levels and how much fun it was. I was expecting to say “no, not for me” after a few games. Instead, the endorphins provided by this silly-looking game completely swept me away.
Of course, it’s been a few days since then, and with the wear and tear of the endorphins, I’m starting to notice a few potential concerns. For one, despite how much I enjoyed my time with the Rumbleverse, the chances of others giving it up immediately are high. Or its popularity may drop rapidly after its release. This isn’t the first time a competitive game I love has been killed by low player counts. Another concern is that I’m not sure if Rumbleverse’s tight skill-based melee combat plays out well in squad modes – if that’s even what Iron Galaxy is planning, I do not know. It might work, but I can also easily see the game get annoying in situations where enemy players attack you and stun you with the right rhythm of movement. That’s why I reacted quickly Naraka: Bladepoint, after all. It would be a real shame if it turns out that I can’t legitimately play Rumbleverse with my friends because of this, so I hope I’m wrong.
But even if I don’t, solo mode is such a fun thing that I think once Rumbleverse releases in Early Access in February, I’ll gladly play it alone if need be. I don’t need friends. All I need is a stockpile full of chickens and I’m ready to dump.
