So while you might be capable of quickly fixing the nuclear reactor, you might also give yourself a short electric shock and subsequent lacerations for trying. Hell, even the mechanic starting out has a chance of being knocked on their ass in an almost QWOP-like ragdoll motion. Every character has a certain set of skill points assigned to various tasks though. You’re not limited by your role per se - a mechanic can drive the ship, for instance, and anyone can grab a wrench or screwdriver to repair a busted pump in a pinch.
#BAROTRAUMA HANDCUFFS PATCH#
These can include things like a Security Officer, who deals with threats internal and external the Captain, who will generally be responsible for driving the ship Mechanics and Engineers, who maintain the sub’s nuclear reactor and patch up various systems as they break down and a Medical Officer who keeps everyone in check. When you start out, you’ll create a character and select up to three roles. (You can also add some NPC bots if you need.) There’s support for up to 16 players, although some ships are designed for smaller groups, while other giant, hulking masses, might need at least 8 or 12. But the campaign is still incomplete, and chaos is best shared with friends anyway. It can be played solo, and there’s some tutorials and campaign missions to get acquainted with the basics. Out now in early access, Barotrauma is principally a co-op survival sim where you play one of several roles on a submarine. “Shit, this is brilliant,” I said on Discord. Which is when it all clicked: I’m crazy, so the game makes me think everyone else is crazy. Clicking on my mate, who was busy helming our little rescue boat towards our original sub? 60 percent insane, apparently. I clicked on my character to heal - nope, no crazy afflictions there. “No, you’re legitimately crazy,” he laughed, saying that was all part of the game. “Hang on, I’ve gotta put this fire out first,” I shout, only for my other mate to chime in. He’s in a bit of a pickle: some Cthulu-looking asshole is French kissing the hull of the ship with its 4 million pound head, in between bouts of just staring at the ship that is causing all on board to repeatedly vomit so much it’s causing organ damage. “Are you guys far away,” a third mate, the only one who didn’t have their original body crushed under extreme water pressure when our sub flooded, hurriedly asks. Thinking they’re just blowing me off - they’re like that - I run around the rescue shuttle, looking for a fire extinguisher. “Nah, you’re crazy,” my mate says on Discord, ignoring me completely. And then suddenly, after turning around, I say to a friend: “Hey, how come the sub is on fire?” I’m standing in a respawn shuttle with a friend, scurrying over to our submarine as fast as humanly possible.