Of all the game releases I've been concurrently aware of, none comes off quite as pathetic as the release of Fallout 76. The game was announced in 2018 after a 24 hour clock on Twitch mysteriously appeared with the image of a Vault-Boy bobblehead and the (perhaps iconic) "Please Stand By" message behind it. At the time, anticipation for a new Fallout had been relatively high. Fallout 4 had been a middling success, one with great sales but incredibly divisive critical and general reception. For a lot of people, Fallout 4's few saving graces were its improved combat, better looking graphics, and the settlement/crafting systems. A lot of people were anticipating (or hoping) Bethesda would hand off the reigns the way they did with Fallout: New Vegas after Fallout 3. That example, in particular, was the source of a lot of anticipation. Fallout: New Vegas is an incredibly beloved game, often considered to be one of the best modern RPGs, and the true successor to the classic CRPG series that preceded Bethesda's entries. The idea that Obsidian, Fallout: New Vegas' developers, or another such company could do with Fallout what Bethesda seemed so reluctant or incapable of doing added to the hype around that 24 hour clock. What was revealed, however, was not what everyone was hoping for, and what was worse is that people were awfully confused as to exactly what it was Bethesda did announce.
Fallout 76 was poorly marketed, to start. People were initially confused as to exactly what type of game this was. Was it an MMO? A Destiny type game? Something more akin to Borderlands? All anyone seemed to get from the initial announcement was that it was Fallout, it took place in West Virginia, and that it was multiplayer. As it turned out, Fallout 76 wasn't that hard to explain. It was Fallout 4 with several tweaks, an emphasis on survival, and multiplayer. It was far more akin to the likes of Destiny than a full-fledged MMO, and had crafting and survival elements from games like Ark or Rust, but that was hardly the focus. Adding to the confusion was the announcement that there were no NPCs, an extremely odd claim since Fallout, and all Bethesda RPGs, really, heavily relied on characters and communities to develop the world and stories within. There was a cause of concern from this announcement, but in the end it turned out there were NPCs, they just weren't people.
Fallout 76 was criticised heavily for its perceptively empty world, with few people in it aside from other players and a lack of cohesion because the story itself was drip fed through odd questing through robot NPCs. There was the distinct feeling that this was unfinished, and that was only exacerbated by the myriad of glitches at launch. Simply put, the game was hardly playable when it released, with hours and hours of footage online of people running into glitches, game breaking bugs, or unrelenting crashes. It was plain as day that this was a horribly unfinished game, and Bethesda received harsh backlash that still largely informs people's relationship towards the company. Bethesda fucked right up. They released a disaster in a franchise beloved by millions, following up a disappointment that had already put them on a rocky foundation to begin with. It was the final nail in the coffin for many, me included, and Fallout 76 was largely written off as a failure, with hopes maybe the likes of The Outer Worlds could fill in the gap everyone felt in its place.
But a couple years have passed, and with the Covid epidemic seeming to ramp up rather than slow down, my buddy and I needing a new game to play after completing The Forest, and a conveniently timed sale, it seemed my rigid defiance towards the game had waned. The Wastelanders update promised human NPCs added to the game, and the game, from what I'd heard by the few who actually seemed to like it, had been patched to a far better state than it had been released in. And that's how my feet were wetted by the fun, if relatively shallow, pool that is Fallout 76.
The real question that probably comes to mind, among the questions of its updates and its current state, is whether I recommend the game. And the answer to that question is somewhat complicated. Whether you will enjoy Fallout 76 really depends on whether you liked Fallout 4, and whether you like online games (and have friends to play them with) at all. If you say yes to all of these conditions, then I can cautiously recommend the game as fun but not necessarily great. It is, by and large, Fallout 4 with friends, extra steps, and less focus on story. If you like Fallout for its ambience and the general exploration of an apocalyptic world, I can generally recommend giving it shot for that alone, but your expectations should be tuned toward that being your primary want above all else.
The basic loop of Fallout 76 has you leveling up, doing quests, and crafting gear. Like in Fallout 4, everything you can carry can be broken down into parts and then used in crafting armor, weapons, or elements of your camp. Your camp is a replaceable zone that allows construction, where you can build buildings, workbenches, turrets, and other things for ease of access. The zone isn't particularly big, but has enough space to build the things you need, even if your creativity in crafting is highly limited. Even paying for the Fallout 1st subscription doesn't allow unfettered construction like you would see in a survival/crafting game, a real shame given the potentialities of the Fallout world. Fast traveling also now costs caps in this game, further encouraging you to use the camp system as a free fast travel point in an area you plan to spend a lot of time in, rather than a creative outlet to allow you to sink into the Fallout world. It is a disappointment, to put it bluntly. Many have wanted a multiplayer Fallout game, but it's hard to argue that this could ever be what they meant.
Fallout 76 is a rough game, no matter how you slice it, but its one saving grace is Appalachia, the world in which it takes place. West Virginia turns out to be a rather striking locale for a Fallout game, with interesting areas and the biggest map the series has seen yet. It feels almost a criticism that such a cool map is unfortunately lost to a game that seems unfitting for its quality. Appalachia has multiple "biomes" of sorts, each generally level gated, following the general rules of an MMO. You are meant to quest and level in particular areas, main quest be damned, until you have the proper gear and level to carry on to the next. The way the game threads you through this world will be addressed later, but for now know that you will be sort of fighting the game's lead to stay in your leveled areas. The main part of the map is a place called The Forest, a pretty, hilly area with low level enemies and a general introduction to the world you'll be existing within. The fall color scheme gives it a distinct look from Fallout 4's wintry feel, and feels rather expansive despite its obviously entry-level design. To the north is the next leveled area, called the Toxic Wastes, where a dried out, heavily irradiated lake glows at night and harbors mean creatures at night. The Toxic Wastes is where I started to actually like the game, partially for the new aesthetic to the series, and partially due to it being where I started actually feeling free to explore events (this games version of dungeons or raids) and various side quests. After the Toxic wastes is the southern end called the Ash Heap, an apocalyptic-even-given-the-context looking area whose central digger you had probably watched looming over the southern hills since the early game. The place looks intimidating, and is largely charred. It also includes my favorite quest of the game, so far; a Wastelanders quest following clues of a group of paranormal investigators as they search for the legendary sheepsquatch. After this is the Savage Divide, more or less The Forest again but with an emphasis on a highway running through it rather than country housing and towns, and then finally we get to the eastern most end of the map. Here is where the most interesting points on the map are: The Mire to the north, and the Cranberry Bog to the south. The Cranberry Bog acts as the endgame area, where you will do the final raid, Scorched Earth, and where many people end up dropping the nuke once they get that far in the main quest (it is worth noting that you can drop the bomb in multiple places, but most people choose here as it starts the Scorched Earth event and is generally unpopulated, so you aren't screwing over any new players). But by far the most interesting area is The Mire.
The Mire is a boggy forest infested with a mutated creeping vine species that has uprooted entire towns. It's one of the few times in a game where the world itself made me stop and look around for the sake of it. I wasn't expecting quests, or gear, or anything. I just wanted to see as much of it as I possibly could. Despite this, the area does end up feeling a bit unfinished, as though there was supposed to be more here than there is (the existence of two vaults that are unopenable only irritates the issue). This short coming feels more akin to settling back down into what Fallout 76 is than it does an outright disappointment, but whether that's an issue largely comes from how you feel about Fallout 76 in the first place.
There is virtually nothing remarkable about Fallout 76. There is a thin main quest threading you through the different areas, and setting up interest in the world of Appalachia. Essentially, the world of Appalachia was like many other Fallout areas, where after the bombs fell people (and released vault dwellers) attempted to carry on and rebuild society. Appalachia didn't have a bomb fall near it, so a substantial amount of the population ended up surviving and continuing on as best they could in a suddenly government-less society. It worked about as well as you would expect, but a new player came into the mix and pretty well ended everything. A virus, or infection - unknown for the majority of the story - began to ravage the people of Appalachia. People infected were dubbed the Scorched, and they acted like semi-intelligent zombies whose main difference was that they could shoot a gun, I guess. The reason behind the Scorched I'll leave alone to save from spoilers, but suffice to say it shouldn't be much of a shock. Perhaps this take on the Fallout universe would have been far more interesting if it wasn't literally just a new version of zombie, as though feral ghouls weren't doing their job properly enough. And that is a point that becomes rather annoying as you go on: it is somewhat difficult, especially from far away, to tell the difference between the Scorched and ghouls. The systematic difference is that ghouls will radiate you, but that hardly constitutes much of a distinction. In a lot of ways, this redundancy sort of permeates the entire Fallout 76 experience. The game is simply not very original, and tries its best to get by on its cool looking (but largely substance-less) world and the gimmick of multiplayer.
The game's sense of progression can feel rather tedious as well. The main quest tries to move you through the different zones, but moves too quickly in hopes that you will stick around each of the zones and try out their events and side quests. While some of these zones certainly had me spending hours there, others were just not substantial enough to keep me interested. I was in the Toxic Wastes and the Savage Divide, desperately trying to level my gear, well beyond its capacity to interest me. Side quests and events would be a neat way of sticking around if it netted you enough experience to level out of the zone, but the truth of the matter is they don't. Experience is rather small for completing quests and events, meaning you're mostly doing it for either gear rewards (which are often only briefly or contextually useful) or for the sake of doing them. Your best way to level up is through discovering locations and killing stuff. Fun as this can be for awhile, it gets tired well before you've entered the final area. Your level, as well, is only one of the gates to your progression, with the real gate being your gear.
Gear progress in Fallout 76 is far more traditional than in the other games of the series. Gear is now gated by level, meaning you will need to either loot or craft (the latter being your best option most of the time) in order to proceed. Crafting is substantially rewarding in the basic practice of getting gear, but it comes at a great cost of resources. And this is where we get to the crux of the issue with Fallout 76. The whole game is basically teetering along the thin line of basic gear and level progression just about every other multiplayer RPG has, with absolutely no variance in the feeling of grind. But almost as a mean spirited prank, gathering resources turns out to be a thoroughly exhausting affair. Your stash is severely limited to only 800lbs (a drastic improvement from what it was at release, believe it or not), which, if you've ever payed attention in other Fallout games, is just about enough to keep a basic stash of gear with some wiggle room. Add to this resources that are also needed to build your camp, the weight of collectables such as bobbleheads and magazines (neither of which are useful anymore, being changed into marginal temporary buffs), and the fact that aid items such as stimpacks and your bullets all now add weight, suddenly you have a full stash before you've hit the halfway point. Micromanaging your stash suddenly becomes half the game, where you can waste countless hours just trying to set yourself up to be able to explore further into the game. It is a bottleneck of the worst kind, the kind that gives you a job to do in order to have fun, rather than a challenge to overcome. It is a chore, pure and simple, and the only way around it is through a pay model with Fallout 1st.
The perk system has had an overhaul in Fallout 76, and it is mostly to the game's betterment. Given the substantial investment required in order to play the game (and the myriad of ways you could essentially lock yourself into a more difficult progression in an already annoying game in which to progress), perks are now cards with an attribute and a cost to activate them. This cost comes from your SPECIAL stat that the card is categorized towards. If you have a Strength card that gives you an extra 10lbs of carry weight worth a cost of 1, then you need at least a Strength stat of 1 to equip it. Simple stuff, and it allows for you to change your build on the fly as you see fit. The cost, of course, is that player customization is essentially nil, as even your SPECIAL stat points can be relocated every level after 50. It adds a nice freedom from any sort of build burden, but likewise makes the process less important. Gaining perk cards is as easy as leveling up, where you get to choose one of the given SPECIAL stat you chose to level up, or through Perk Packs which are given out in events or through challenges. There is very little depth to the system, but given the game's other annoyances I found an odd bit of masochistic fun trying to reconfigure my build in order to relieve myself some of the burden of several of Fallout 76's systems. It worked, mostly, but any time I turned a sober eye as to what I was doing it was plainly obvious I was trying to fix what was a broken system.
Fallout 76 is, weirdly, fun. It isn't great, and easily rates as one of the worst straight-RPG entries in the Fallout series, but it does some minimum of allowing me to experience Fallout with a friend. The game can be equal parts annoying or laborious, so more than any other game I've ever reviewed it really is up to taste whether you will enjoy this game or not, but it will never really wow you regardless. If you need the game and have no prospects, then giving it a try when it is on sale is hardly a sin. In any other case, you can probably find better elsewhere.
6.0
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