"Sweet Liber-Tea," I breathe, frozen before an open fridge. A crucial decision. What's for dinner? I've been playing Helldivers 2 for less than a day and its sweet patriotic nothings have already wormed their way into my brain, presumably carving out inessential things like basic maths while doing so. Dinner ends up being a sandwich, cold chicken, and everything that can be swept onto a plate without cooking. There's no time for the oven: Super Earth needs me, and I need Super Earth.
Helldivers 2 is vastly different to how I remember it being a year ago, with the biggest change being the addition of vast cities to fight in instead of endless plains. The only downside? They're our cities, which I imagine must be a bummer if you spent most of 2024 trying to keep endless hordes of aliens an arm's length away from civilization. Between the high stakes and wealth of updates (they're new to me!) I've picked a wonderful time to finally fall head-over-heels for Helldivers 2 – and it's all thanks to the game's ever-patient community.
Dereliction of duty
Helldivers 2 review: "A fiercely challenging and visually breathtaking cooperative shooter"
I am not, to put it lightly, Super Earth's greatest soldier. On my first visit to the besieged planet, I couldn't even tell you what I'd been sent there to do. Instead, I wandered tight streets and impromptu battlefields, ogling at Helldivers 2's grimy new atmosphere. Allied NPC soldiers fight and die in smokey alleyways, capable of holding off waves of their zombified former neighbors (amusingly called Voteless) but less so their alien Illuminate overlords, who swoop in with jetpacks and energy shields to clean up.
On Super Earth, Helldivers 2 oozes the same sublime desperation as Halo 3: ODST's campaign. There are no drawn battle lines, or even any pretense of order. It's much too late for that. Illuminate dropships seem to land wherever they can, while pockets of defenders have been swept up in the chaos and eroded by near endless waves of Voteless. I try to help my stranded patriots – I really do – but for every gaggle of Voteless I manage to incinerate with my Scythe laser, there are twice as many stern messages to say I've killed a civilian hiding behind them. It doesn't really matter, because five minutes later I'm also melted – this time by a strafing Illuminate ship.
Back in orbit, I have time to rethink my plans. Clearly I can't be trusted to lead an operation myself, so I use the quickplay feature to respond to SOS signals from Helldivers fighting their own battles. My logic – that I'll be a helpful pair of hands for someone who does know what they're doing – is sound. My pair of hands are less so.
For my first SOS signal, from a sole Helldiver who's trapped on all sides by Illuminate, I arrive just in time. Just in time, that is, to blow said Helldiver's head off. I don't have voice chat enabled and there's no time to type an apology, so instead I call them back to reinforce their own game and redouble my efforts to be a worthy number two.
The Helldiver soon picks up on my freshness, and begins to shepherd me around the map with judicious use of pings and – more importantly – a keen eye on my every move. They appear like a guardian angel every time I walk into a Voteless horde or Illuminate encampment, mowing down my attackers as if I was the one who called for help. When it's time to extract, they call in a mounted turret and ping for me to get behind them, killing everything in sight until the real rescue arrives. The mission is complete, but I'm so embarrassed by the fact that they had to carry their reinforcements that before leaving I apologize and thank them, to which they offer a wordless salute.
It's a common theme. Throughout my first day in Helldivers 2 I'm treated a little like a well-meaning but ultimately bumbling dog, who must be protected at all costs. I never warn anyone that they're dealing with a rookie, but something about my low level and general inaptitude must give it away. Nobody complains when I accidentally frag them with a grenade – in fact it's the opposite, with a number of players taking me under their wing and occasionally calling in high-level weapons and giving them to me. In an age where the internet feels meaner and more prone to cruelty than ever, there's a warmth and kindness in Helldivers 2 that makes learning the ropes feel encouraging.
On a side tangent, I'm loving Helldivers 2 so much more than when I briefly dabbled in it at launch. The game's firefights feel so much more at home in Super Earth's claustrophobic streets, and although Halo 3: ODST is an immediate touchstone, there's a sim-like facet to its chaos that wouldn't feel astray in Half Life. That's not to mention the wealth of shiny new things including mechs and vehicles, the latter of which feels so good I'm not even mad when a distracted driver reverses into a concrete wall, simultaneously flinging me from the turret and smearing me beneath its wheels.
In fewer words: Helldivers 2 is really, really good right now. I'm kicking myself for being so late to the party, and – look away, managers – already have fervent daydreams about playing it instead of working. But I wouldn't feel so passionate if the community hadn't embraced me with open arms, even when those arms have been blown from one side of Remembrance to the other by an errant grenade (again, I'm so sorry). So, thank you to everyone who's shouldered a rookie in recent weeks – it really makes a difference. Sweet Liber-Tea, I suspect it will be sandwiches for dinner again.
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