![]() ![]() Melee is simultaneously the worst part of the game and the most tantalizing and exciting.Īll the while, cannon balls and musket fire are whipping around and men are dying at random, leaving positions unfilled until they can respawn. The trouble is that melee hit detection and melee combat is at a very early stage, so sword fights feel a little weightless, random and flailing, like an early beta test for Mount & Blade. Suddenly being close-up, face-to-face with them gets the heart pumping every time. Even getting close enough to snipe at the other crew with muskets is relatively rare. For a huge majority of every match, opponents are tiny dots, specks climbing around the deck of faraway ships. Melee sword fights are a fascinating addition to Blackwake. If grappling hooks land and a ship gets boarded, everyone drops their work and a melee suddenly breaks out-usually while one or both ships creak and take on water. Cannons are a full-time job, but crates of fresh powder and shot also have to be shuttled to from the magazine to the guns. Damage to the sails has to be fixed in person by sailors climbing up the shroud, or the ship won’t be able to move. Any damage to the hull has to be patched by hand, with hammer and nails, before the ship fills with water and sinks. You will spend the entire match manning this one cannon and you will like it.Īnd in battle, there are dozens of jobs to do. The cooperation in Blackwake's multiplayer arena is self-reinforcing because no one can do more than one job at a time. First-person shooters usually want me to feel like the biggest boss, the hero who can do everything. But most important is this: it is an anti-power fantasy. It’s an FPS with black-powder muskets, smooth-bore cannons, and the most ridiculously foppish faux-British voice acting I’ve ever heard. ![]() It’s an early-access, first-person multiplayer deathmatch between Caribbean pirates and the British navy. There are a few ways to describe the maritime warfare of Blackwake. I reload as fast as I can while crewmates restring sails, patch holes in the deck, and die all around me. The captain finally steers round, the warship comes into view, and I fire. I'm bleeding from the blast but I stay on my station. Inches away from my face, a cannonball tears a chunk out of the deck railing, flinging a crewmate dead into the pitching waves. Chainshot rips through our foresail and our ship slows. I'm hunkered behind my cannon, waiting for my shot, when hot iron starts raining down. One of the British warships has spotted us moving in, and they pivot and face their cannons in our direction. ![]()
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