Why ‘Helldivers 2’ Continues To Dominate
For many, Helldivers 2 burst onto the gaming scene seemingly out of nowhere and swiftly took the world by storm. In the first two months since its release, the MMO shooter racked up record-breaking numbers, an overwhelmingly positive review score on Steam, and sold over eight million copies.
What makes this so mind-boggling is the fact that, for many, Helldivers 2 not only had comparatively little advertising leading up to its release, but also features gameplay that is remarkably simple in its operation. There aren't 50+ heroes and ultimates to memorize and weigh against, and it lacks the often bemusingly blisteringly fast gameplay, hacks and tricks lauded and perfected by players on other shooters—that is, you have no “main” and there's no such thing as a 360° no-scope here.
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(Well, there is, but it heavily increases the likelihood of an unamused teammate having to use a stategem to bring you back into the fight. Or maybe not. There's about four Titans coming right for me and I need that sentry gun yesterday.)
Rightly then, one may question just why and how this game has managed to conjure such a rapidly growing legion of fans, memes, and accompanying rap and heavy metal songs. And what it boils down to, dear reader?
Collective community.
“Well, obviously,” you might say, but I’d argue that the Helldivers 2 community is unique—perhaps even near revolutionary—in how it has managed to weave a web of camaraderie, real-time combat, and lore into its gameplay, constantly keeping players hooked.
The game has managed to seamlessly blend player progression on the individual level into an overarching, connecting stream. While collecting samples and earning medals is certainly a powerful incentive in order to afford cosmetic and practical additions to your arsenal…none of that matters.
Let me explain.
At its core, the goal of Helldivers 2 is to fight and win a galactic war. New armors, weapons and a bigger, shinier ship are bonuses—a way to flex? Sure. A way to showcase your hard work towards the war effort? True. The opportunity to not be melted into organic slurry by a giant, vomiting bug? Absolutely. But all of that, overall, is but a drop in the ocean of importance when it comes to Helldivers 2.
The game satirically inflates your importance from the get-go. You are the greatest Helldiver to ever dive. You, who has never fired a weapon in your life, are the best there is. After all—you're wearing a cape, aren't you?
This is done in such a way that you know it's a joke in the lore of the game, but it also manages to conceal a vital untruth in how your contribution towards the game works in reality. You are not the most important person. You are not an MVP. You are but a cog in the machine. When you inevitably get blown up on Malevelon Creek, Super Earth thanks you for your service and quickly hands your ship to the next human popsicle to be plucked from cryo.
And yet, one could argue, for all that we tend to be individualistic species, there's something almost psychologically refreshing in how we aren't the main character. The reason that Helldivers 2 works so well is because for once, you are not the Chosen One. We want to be part of something. Understanding the collar-tugging, brow-raising dystopian nature of the universe you're playing in doesn't diminish the thrill of still being part of a collective, whether you've successfully launched a nuke or died in orbital cannon fire because someone dropped the stratagem beacon.
Let's compare this, for a moment, to another popular online shooter—Overwatch.
In Overwatch you are technically in a team, but there is no illusion that you aren't there on a primarily individualistic level. Technically, it would benefit your group to be a healer, or a tank, or someone who can lay defensive turrets…but you've been a Bastion main your whole career and you're not going to stop now. Yes, there are three other Bastions on the team, but you'll be fine.
(Oh, look, you need healing.)
In Overwatch, you are inevitably driven to care about three things: your ranking, your skins, and dunking on noobs and toxic players. When it comes to Helldivers, you can care about this notion of course (the Savior of the Free helmet is fire) but in the end, General Brasch doesn't give one iota about your new cape, only that you get boots on the ground in Hellmire.
What's more, the real-time combat creates a linked sense of connection as well. The community is driven to share and evolve together. Teaching a new player how to best fight the Automatons isn't just for views, it's to make it easier for everybody else—that same person who could only last a minute now lasts five, ten, fifteen. That extra time means when you are eventually run over by a walker, your tips have bought extra time for your teammate to bring you back. Your generosity has made it easier for everyone to benefit in the long term—that same noob who accidentally landed their pod on you is now right beside you and a couple million other players striving to complete the latest Major Order (global goal).
And it works—there are entire forums, Reddit boards and Steam community threads dedicated to building out war and battle strategies. And for the most part, the community tends to listen, resulting in awe-inspiring surges as players shore up boundary planets to move onto the primary objective, taking war fronts with amazing alacrity.
This isn't the first time collective community action has been made to strive for a singular goal. Back in 2020, the Metal Gear Solid community worked towards the goal of total virtual nuclear disarmament in order to unlock a secret cutscene in The Phantom Pain that had gone largely unknown for almost half a decade. But one can argue there's never been such a continuous collective video game movement on this scale, and there's almost something bemusing, ironic and a fair bit terrifying in how this notion of collective slaughter, sacrifice and equality fits so perfectly in the game’s Starship Troopers-esque dystopian lore. Sure, the bodies we throw into the virtual meatgrinder are little more than ones and zeros, but as far as the game is concerned, we've lost over twenty million people on the Creek alone.
And yet, it's by that same thread of thought that makes the game so fun and compelling. Whether you've played for five minutes or fifty hours, you've furthered the cause. We all salute the divers at Malevelon Creek, but their work has nevertheless furthered the war effort—their work matters to the community. You don't have to be an expert shot for your efforts to aid in ticking that progress bar up. The virtual body count is astronomical—but it's important in the grand scheme of “liberation”.
One day, we'll look back at this game and time and wonder—was this a portent for what was to come, a reflection of the times, or a simple bit of innocent fun? Will the sheer popularity of Helldivers 2 pave the way for a new generation of games focused on collective success?
Who knows? But for now, it's time to finish your liber-TEA, don your cape, and dive.
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