After 250 hours, I keep coming back to Arc Raiders not because it's surprising, but because it's predictable

When I gave extraction shooter Arc Raiders a glowing review in November, I wasn’t certain it would keep me hooked.

Two months later and I’m 250 hours deep. Despite clear flaws – and developer Embark Studio’s insistence on retaining AI-generated voice lines – I feel its pull every day, and not for the reasons I would’ve thought.

I used to think what was special about Arc Raiders was that every round was different, that anything could and would happen when you met another player mid-round. What’s kept me coming back, however, is not the ways it’s surprising but the ways it’s predictable – the ways I can master its systems to squeeze more fun out of it, more high-tier loot, and more of its special, absurd moments.

Last week, I spawned at night in Stella Montis, Arc Raiders’ most violent and claustrophobic map. Using emotes, torch flashes, and voice comms, I formed an impromptu squad with two other friendly raiders. Together we burst dozens of pops, the rolling deathballs that screech around corners and explode in your face.

Then, two hostile players ambushed us. They had, presumably, formed their own spontaneous group, one with more murderous intentions. They shot first but we outnumbered them. We dispatched one and the other, decked out in an old fashioned diving suit, made a run for it. We chased him through a maze of pneumatic doors, wailing through our microphones not to trust the deep sea diver. We recruited one, two, three strangers, all of us shouting, all of us hungry for blood, and I led the zig-zagging pursuit.

I found him cowering between two containers on the edge of a two-storey drop. As we all gleefully opened fire, he jumped over the edge and somehow survived his splat on the ground. But he was instantly mowed down by a Bastion, one of Arc Raiders’ biggest robots. Everyone cheered and toasted his demise by pelting the six-legged beast with trigger grenades until it was a smoking ruin.

This sequence is classic Arc Raiders. In its vast playground you can be a pacifist, a robot hunter, a PvP maniac, and everything between, and its magic is nestled in the crags created when these playstyles collide.

But that round would’ve gone very differently 200 hours ago. It unfolded, from my perspective, as a series of informed predictions based on the time I’d spent raiding, all of them coming true.

I knew based on the movements and voice comms of my two allies that it was safe to trust them. I knew how to emote and flash my torch to get them to trust me. I knew to take an elevator platform near my spawn for a chance of finding a secret weapons crate, netting a chunky Vulcano shotgun that would later kill our attacker. When we were ambushed I knew when to chuck smoke, when to flank, and which enemy to focus on. When we gave chase, I knew which route our foe might take and his likely hiding spots.

As a new player I would’ve stumbled at any of these hurdles, and missed the old man’s glorious ending.

The more I play, the easier I can find Arc Raiders’ magic wrinkles. They’re everywhere, including before you even join a round. I used to approach every run in one of two ways: gear up heavy to maximise my chances of surviving to bring back loot from the surface – though, also running the risk of losing my high-value gear if I died on the mission. Or I would choose a free loadout, which risks nothing but lacks a “safe pocket” that protects whatever item you put in it even if you die. But I’ve discovered a much better way to maximise value, taking nothing but a shield and an augment that has two safe pockets.

It works because I know each map well enough to find weapons, heals, and a couple of grenades near wherever I spawn. Depending on where I am on the map and how much time remains on the round timer, I know whether it’s best to rinse high-value areas for loot – stuffing any blueprints in my safe pockets – or to ambush other players who’ve already picked them clean.

A cheap loadout means lots of profit, which will help when the next wipe, called an expedition, begins. It’s also taught me how to use every gadget in the game. I wouldn’t have thought to combine smoke grenades and tagging grenades unless I was forced to rely on them during one run, and now I swear it’s one of the game’s most lethal combos.

I can now also game the matchmaking system to suit my mood. It’s at least partly based on how aggressive you are and, as I’ve discovered, it adjusts quickly. Three passive runs in a row with a couple of gifts dropped to strangers puts me back in friendly lobbies, ideal when I want to hunt for specific blueprints – the Tempest still eludes me – or boost my score in Arc Raiders’ weekly trials. When I fancy more PvP against players with better gear, it only takes a couple of violent rounds to get there.

Finally, I’ve realised that being “good” at Arc Raiders isn’t about your aim (mine is lacklustre) but about preparation, equipment, and map knowledge. Experience doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll have more fun but it helps you avoid frustrating deaths.

So when I saw I needed to kill flying robots for a weekly trial, I knew that the hospital roof on Buried City was the perfect spot. In my early raider days, somebody would’ve snuck up on me and killed me, deleting my high score, but now I know where to place my zipline, how many protective mines to bring, and where to stand to cut sightlines from nearby buildings. I could snipe in peace.

My relationship with Arc is about to be tested: my wife is due to have a baby in the coming weeks. After months away, will I still feel its pull? That will partly depend on new maps and items but long-term, I fear Embark’s stance on generative AI might kill my appetite.

The game trains an AI tool on paid voice actors and, with their consent, generates hollow, eerie voice lines for items and locations in the game. Design director Virgil Watkins told PCGamesN recently that the team didn’t have the capacity for real voices at launch, but that argument is surely blown away by the game’s success and Embark has, presumably, made enough money to pay actors 10 times the going rate. Watkins added that “we’re not deaf to the concerns” so, if you’re listening: please pay real humans to make your game.

For the moment, I’ve explained away my hypocrisy – and that is what it is – by telling myself that I deserve to have fun, that it relaxes me, enthrals me, and keeps me in touch with a friend who lives 100 miles away. But perhaps the joy of Arc Raiders can only mask the sour taste for so long.

Or perhaps not.