One of the first tutorial messages that pops up on the screen in Dustborn is a warning that what you say in conversations will affect your relationship with other characters, but that there’s “no wrong answer” to pick. Introduced as a story-driven experience shaped by your choices, Dustborn riffs on the Telltale-esque formula by having everybody remember your deeds. The concept, however, is taken a step further, since your actions also impact how  you and other characters develop over time. Developed by Red Thread Games and published by Spotlight, Quantic Dream’s publishing branch, the result is an ambitious story that often gets tangled in its aspirations, yet does so without ever abandoning its heartfelt nature.

The road-trip story begins with a group of four 30-year-olds inside a minivan, making their escape after a heist. The mission is to make it across an alternate-reality version of the United States to eventually deliver their stolen package in Nova Scotia, Canada. Your biggest obstacle is avoiding surveillance from Justice, a fascist regime that’s particularly interested in persecuting Anomals. These are people who can speak certain words to invoke special powers after a mysterious event that took place decades ago. As you might have guessed by now, all four people in the van are Anomals, including protagonist Pax.

In order to attempt to make it to Nova Scotia undetected, the cover for the group is to pass as a punk-rock band, despite their music skills being rather lackluster. Making use of fake IDs and forged work permits, the road trip is dictated by gigs, which you play following a standard Guitar Hero-style minigame. When you’re not onstage, you stop at different locations to connect with members of a resistance group, rest at campsites to rehearse and catch up with characters, or compose new songs.

Throughout the 20 hours it took me to see the end credits, Dustborn’s story took a dozen different turns. At first, I was expecting it to unfold in a similar way to Life Is Strange, showcasing people who have access to supernatural abilities in largely grounded depictions of our reality. Dustborn follows this to a certain degree, yet it ultimately favors fiction more often than not.

This alternate America is dictated by the JFK assassination happening to Jackie Kennedy instead, and the various events that ensued after, including the emergence of Anomals. The game takes place in 2030, with an already-established presence of robots and an ever-present commentary about how the reliance on them sucks (a robot goes haywire and steals your vehicle, server problems almost lead to the death of a mechanic who’s stuck underneath a bus, and so on).

With each new location you visit, the world and its inner turmoil continue to expand. Justice isn’t the sole enemy; there are also the Puritans, a group of technology-obsessed fanatics from whom you stole the package, as well as another entity that shows up toward the second half of the story. The game’s story also gets into the origin of the Anomals — with lengthy expositions about the use of language that get close to listening to Skullface in Metal Gear Solid 5: The Phantom Pain — plus flashbacks to Pax’s childhood, her past relationships with some members of the crew, combat sequences, and way more in the spoiler territory. The story is always trying to cast a wider net, and in the process some threads end up underdeveloped at best and forced at worst.

One part of the game that works is its emphasis on different points of view. No matter who you’re speaking to in Dustborn, you’re free to choose the camera’s perspective. Every conversation starts with a default angle, but you can move the camera around the scene, following an invisible path until it stays in place somewhere else, creating another viewpoint.

At times, the camera might start in a place where it’s showing two characters having an intimate conversation on a bench as the rest of the group sits around a campfire in the background. Rotate it, and the scene moves to just the two of them gazing at the moonlight shining on the ocean. During a tense point in the story, the camera angle could signify a chance to rebuild trust in a group that’s been fractured by betrayal, with everybody being in the frame. Or you could change the angle to emphasize said rupture, with the culprit being isolated on one side of the screen as the others listen to them making their case.

At the heart of everything, the characters’ writing and their specific vocal powers (named Vox) are what kept me invested. From the start, it was refreshing to see such a diverse cast that largely ignores media stereotypes and includes characters who are allowed to be angry, messy, and joyful in their own ways.

While I can’t speak with authority about each of the characters’ backgrounds depicted in Dustborn, I was particularly surprised by Theo. Because he’s a Mexican character, I was fully bracing myself to hear constant Spanish quips à la Jackie Wells in Cyberpunk 2077 or the characters in Far Cry 6. Spanglish isn’t uncommon, of course, but as a fellow Latin American, it was gratifying to see Theo following the rule of thumb: When you’re surrounded by English-speaking folks, you have to stick to English to be understood. It was only during moments of surprise that Theo let out a Spanish phrase, until a later sequence where he makes a phone call to a relative. Seen from Pax’s perspective, if you choose to eavesdrop, the subtitles display the conversation in Spanish, while Pax’s thought bubbles “translate” the main bits of it. I’m glad I didn’t have to witness yet another “[ominous mumbling in Spanish]” caption.

The care from the development team for each character is tangible, and speaking to them every chance I had became an imperative after I saw how their personality archetypes could be molded by different actions and conversations. Theo, for example, can stick to his role as the group leader or slowly open up and become more a part of the team, with the lack of impartiality that doing so involves. This feature isn’t flawless, however — while your actions have weight, some of the default story beats feel intrusive, and not always in the best way.

In one instance, a character departed the group after a rant, even though we had had a conversation the night before about how much their relationship with Pax had improved. More often than not, my hand was forced to use Pax’s Vox with the crew, such as bullying or momentarily blocking them off from speaking, despite the clear consensus among the characters that doing so is invasive. These moments didn’t completely obfuscate my sense of player agency — stories need structure, after all — but they did remove the weight of some of my previous actions.

There are ways in which Dustborn challenges its own conventions, such as having other characters use their Vox with Pax without you having a way to prevent it. The one that stood out to me the most was the existence of limited-time dialogue options. The more you listen to certain conversations, the more options appear over time. Meanwhile, the older ones expire. It made me reflect on the importance of knowing when to interrupt someone and when it’s time to just shut up and listen to the other person without saying a word, letting them vent after a stressful event.

Around the midpoint of the story, there’s a conversation with the group in which you’re told how many times you actually listened to somebody, and the impact of your seemingly small actions. After all, throughout the game, small actions can change how scenes unfold. It was funny to see the characters’ dinner end up a bit burned because I had helped the robot in charge of it pick a hat as they were figuring out their identity. I succeeded in healing Pax’s bond with a family member, only for them to ultimately lean on their idealist archetype and follow their own path instead. I chose to support this decision despite knowing they’d eventually part ways with Pax as a result, and it felt good to have that option available.

The biggest culmination of your decisions happens at the very end, when you don’t have a “select your ending” prompt. Instead, a message on the screen says that your choices and actions have been informing how the story would end the whole time. You get to watch Pax’s decision unfold without your input, and who decides to stick with her for what comes next.

As much as Dustborn leans into its science fiction setting, its story is told from a viewpoint that has clear parallels to reality. There are nods to jokes like “my husband and I saw you from across the bar” as well as mentions of “woke mind virus” speeches and how blatantly stupid they are. One of Pax’s Vox even allows her to “cancel” somebody — which is a bit on the nose, considering the contrast between Dustborn‘s queer and BIPOC characters against Quantic Dream’s alleged misogynistic and homophobic responses to a lawsuit alleging the studio was a toxic workplace.

As a whole, Dustborn is as messy and imperfect as the characters you come across. The story beats can be intrusive, and there are multiple threads left unresolved. But it makes sense to not have input on everything, to only have so much influence over the people around you. Dustborn is a reminder of how seemingly innocuous gestures might not always have a tangible impact, but they’re always shaping who we are and how we relate to others. In a game informed by decisions, the most gratifying choices didn’t involve a right answer — they were about getting a different perspective.

Dustborn was released Aug. 20 on PlayStation 4, PlayStation 5, Windows, Xbox One, and Xbox Series X. The game was reviewed on PlayStation 5 using a pre-release download code provided by Spotlight by Quantic Dream. Vox Media has affiliate partnerships. These do not influence editorial content, though Vox Media may earn commissions for products purchased via affiliate links. You can find additional information about Polygon’s ethics policy here.

‘They talk like we’re actually soldiers’

It took GantztheDemon 10 days to be able to play Helldivers 2 again. On Feb. 21, TikTok user AJGaming shared a video featuring Gantz killing them. The sequence went viral overnight, garnering 4.8 million views as of this writing. A subsection of the Helldivers 2 community, hung up on the politically charged satire theme of the online shooter, labeled the player as a “traitor” and began inciting others to shoot on sight. Alongside dozens of TikToks campaigning for a witch hunt, Gantz’s PlayStation account was temporarily banned after receiving hundreds of reports.

“The last two weeks have been surreal, I never thought I would be getting this attention over a team kill inside of a video game,” GantztheDemon told Polygon over Discord. “It was pretty cool, but at the same time, reading comments of people saying they were going to find out who I was and release my personal information, I thought about just deleting it all.”

Just a mere few weeks after the launch of Helldivers 2, in which thousands of players were forced to wait in a queue due to the servers being at max capacity almost every day, GantztheDemon was immortalized in the fan lore. According to Gantz, however, it was all a misunderstanding. The team kill, or TK for short, was payback for a friend being attacked by two random players in a team of four. Gantz then avenged them, which is the clip we’ve all seen.

The Gantz situation has since cemented itself as an example of how the in-game theme of fighting a war together is, for better or worse, resounding in the community beyond the game itself. After conducting interviews with over 60 players for this article, it’s clear that the propaganda of Helldivers 2 inherently encourages people to band together. But some are acting in bad faith, spinning the clear satire into an overly serious military role-play — one that extends beyond acts like consecrating someone as public enemy number one.

Toxicity has become a popular topic around the Helldivers 2 community as of late. Over at the game’s subreddit, there have been discussions around pursuing or rejecting a certain meta or play style. Players told me that these conversations have allegedly led to some players kicking or TKing people who didn’t abide by the consensus. The uptick in TKs has also been attributed to Gantz — as the user told Polygon, he’s seen several copycat accounts on Discord and TikTok.

Such hostility is unfounded in terms of game mechanics alone. Some of the people interviewed said they’ve seen players embrace the game’s emphasis on cooperation, and that this attitude has been more prevalent than instances of toxicity. This is thanks to multiple factors: All players receive the same rewards upon extraction, and there’s a bonus for the number of players who make it out alive from a mission. Moreover, everybody is working toward the same goal — completing objectives to help liberate planets in an ongoing war. Keeping teamwork in mind, especially for higher difficulties where an organized squad can be the decisive factor in a tough situation, is an integral pillar of the experience.

“I haven’t seen this much love among a community since the Halo 3 days,” Haru Tachibana said over Discord. “[The game] gives everyone a sense of pride of being a piece of the greater puzzle. You see players actively fighting in the world below you and you get the surge to dive down and help them.”

This was supported by Cadrian96, who pointed out the novelty of the narrative around Helldivers 2 being purely player-driven, as opposed to other live service game events where players’ mission results don’t impact the story. “This makes it feel like if we lose, we are all going to see the consequences in a higher enemy count, Stratagem bonus, or different climate conditions on the planets,” he said. This echoes the events of Malevelon Creek and the first unsuccessful mission last week.

Most interviewees pointed at the sense of camaraderie as a big uniting force. Eleven of them replied to the questions in character, talking about “doing their part” for the sake of democracy alongside their “fellow divers.” A couple of Discord profiles were entirely committed to the bit, from display names detailing in-game ranks to profile pictures that say “Malevelon Creek Veteran.”

The community has been expanding on the game’s thematic propaganda since its launch, including anything from fan-made posters that gave birth to slogans like “Spill Oil” to the Super Earth Broadcast, a fan-run TikTok account that shares daily updates about the galactic war. Several interviewees said that these community creations convinced them to purchase the game. Most found its satirical perspective was easy to role-play around or create fan-made content that adds to the world-building. Others expressed concerns for those players who are taking it to an extreme.

“Something about Helldivers 2 makes the people taking it too seriously a very big problem,” user ViviGayming said over Discord. “They talk like we’re actually soldiers. I get role-playing — hell, I love the role-playing. But so many people get so into the war aspect that they fail to realize that not everyone cares as much as them.”

She added that there’s been an increase in people who are only interested in watching the numbers go up. Baptized as “Creekers” by the community, they tend to spew toxicity against anyone whom they consider to be “hurting the war effort” by not taking part in Major Orders. Part of this hate has recently been redirected toward developer Joel, who was described as Helldivers 2’s “dungeon master” in an interview with PC Gamer. “The community seems to have latched onto a name and now he’s the face of the galactic war as a whole, which I cannot imagine is good for his mental health,” ViviGayming said.

Players have found other ways to combat the hate. The “Super Earth says Trans Rights” Discord server, a queer-led group with 70 current members, is one of several subcommunities that sprawled outward from the official Helldivers 2 server. The channel #bigot-watching collects hundreds of messages and interactions where users in official Helldivers 2 channels (such as the Helldivers official Discord) had insulted members of the Discord using slurs and threatened them via DMs. In screenshots shared with Polygon, these users had explicitly used Nazi speech to primarily target trans and furry folks, as well as using images of related paraphernalia (such as SS uniforms) in their profile pictures. (Developer Arrowhead did not respond to Polygon’s request for comment about any of these issues in time for publication.)

“The problem here isn’t actually the bigots, those are an unfortunate fact of life that can never be fully eradicated,” user Bapanada said over Discord. “The problem is that Arrowhead’s official spaces [...] have made the deliberate decision to silence LGBTQ+ voices under the guise of banning any ‘political’ discussion, as if people’s identities are political, and as if this game was not created and marketed as a heavy-handed piece of political satire.”

When Wendy Wilson joined the official Discord, she asked if it’d be possible to have pride flag capes added to Helldivers 2. She told Polygon she’s since been receiving messages telling her to “keep your shit out of our game,” followed by slurs and harassment after she changed her profile picture to the trans flag in protest. After posting a long message in the official Helldivers 2 Discord detailing the events and asking for proper moderation, she was timed out for 24 hours, her message was deleted, and another swarm of people DMed her. “Disallowing discussion only causes lgbt members of the community to hide, while the bigots get to remain,” read an excerpt from the deleted message.

Encounters like this have extended to the game itself. This past weekend, user mechanizedContortion was team killed and kicked from a public lobby after somebody in the squad saw the trans flag in her Steam profile picture. “When I joined I saw him go AFK for a bit, and when he came back he had typed in the chat along the lines of ‘get out of my game freak’ and then killed me,” she said. “He told me after I asked [why he said that] and he said he looked at my Steam profile and that he doesn’t like ‘your kind of people’. He kicked me after that. It was fucking surreal.”

As it stands, interviewees echoed that the opportunity for players to grief one another is “incredibly high” with the way friendly fire works. Some argued that the mechanic adds realism, and clips of accidental kills received with jest contributed to the virality around the game. Others are aware of how kicking and killing teammates is being used in bad faith.

When asked for features they’d like to see to mitigate these issues, users mentioned that being able to report players for griefing or team killing, adding a friendly fire warning similar to that in Rainbow Six Siege, and penalties for going against teamwork could make a difference, among other similar suggestions.

Issues that extend to the community as a whole, however, seem to grow more unwieldy by the day. “The thing about this game is that on the surface, it looks like a game for chuds,” user Rayni said over Discord. “Media illiterate boogaloo boys will take the advertising at face value not realizing they’re the ones being parodied, like people who unironically think Homelander is the hero of The Boys.”

A 21-year-old user, who asked for anonymity, said over email that because tools like the website and API Helldivers.io are exposing the raw data behind the curtain, it’s led to a more meta take on the war. According to this player, details such as liberation rates for each planet have been used to spread hate at others for “not playing the game right,” which has included death threats. The user has since created a separate “brigade,” acting as one of the several subcommunities meant to be a safe and open space for queer folks.

“I care so much for Helldivers 2, and the community I’ve found,” they said, “and I’d hate to see this game become known for its toxicity not being addressed.”