In 1986, the evolutionary biologist Lynn Margulis and her son, the theorist Dorion Sagan, wrote that “life did not take over the world by combat, but by networking.” The idea that it is not necessarily Darwinian competition that drives life but symbiosis and mutualism is palpable in every teeming level of Monster Hunter Wilds. Look closely at grassy plains or rainforest trees to see tiny creatures scuttling towards their next meal. Small reptiles dart about; larger animals roam in herds; apex predators sit pretty at the top of the food chain. All life is entwined.
Still, there is no sidelining combat in Monster Hunter Wilds, the sixth main instalment of a franchise which began in 2004. Armed with cartoonishly oversized blades, it is your job to take out the most fearsome of these creatures, from a gargantuan fanged lion and a lightning-dragon to a slobbering toad-like brute. Felling these animals — either alone or with friends and strangers online — is no small undertaking. In this Mesozoic playground, bruising fights can last upwards of 30 minutes, often culminating, more than a little tragically, in a creature retreating to its lair where you finally put it to the sword.
Like an even more fantastical take on the works of Jules Verne, Arthur Conan Doyle, and even Jurassic Park (1993), the game satisfies the fantasy of seeing prehistoric behemoths walk again (before, ironically, satisfying the game-hunting fantasy of seeing them brought to their knees). Yet this alluring vision is wrapped in finicky systems and menus. Even more complex than the ecosystems is the dizzying and frankly intimidating melange of statistics, equipment, expeditions, cooking, upgrades, crafting, charms and fishing which the game throws at you.
This fundamental artifice sits awkwardly next to the otherwise naturalistic presentation. The titular monsters, like a mischievous pink gorilla called the Congalala, and the oddly wraith-like squid Nu Udra, move with a wondrous sense of verisimilitude. Through bludgeoning sound design, screen-shaking effects and sheer heft of movement, the game does a wonderful job at conveying their player-dwarfing size. These pristinely realistic animations are impressive when they come into contact with you, the hunter, reacting dynamically to your most desperate, flailing moves; but the animations soar when they come into contact with other monsters.
From 1992’s SimLife to 2017’s Rain World, it has long been a dream of game-makers to render virtual ecosystems — conjuring up all the complexity of nature with a computer. Monster Hunter Wilds’ heavyweight showdowns between AI-driven creatures is that dream imagined in its most stylish and spectacular form.
This is a big game in every sense. It is tens of hours long (if not hundreds, depending on your willingness to master every weapon), filled with eye-widening landscape reveals and gigantic creature design that rivals the steppe-scraping titans found in 2005’s Shadow of the Colossus. Like many other video games, Monster Hunter Wilds cultivates a sense of wonder through vastness. Yet the beauty of the now 21-year-old series, of which Wilds is undoubtedly its ultimate form, has always been its ability to sustain wonder the closer you look at its twinkling habitats.
Here is a game that rewards an ecological eye as much as sword-wielding skill. In a blockbuster gaming landscape dominated by Fortnite, Call of Duty and Grand Theft Auto, Monster Hunter Wilds is the strangest and most magnificent beast.
★★★★★
On PC, PlayStation 5 and Xbox Series X/S from February 28