Like, really. They really REALLY love Sloths.
A pretty standard game of Hunt on Distillery. I’m Lazarus, standing lookout on that large warehouse-like building in the southern region of the map, watching the area where we had just seen some Harpies circling. I catch a glimpse of Goalie wrestling a Croc (not an elite, thankfully) along the coastline, so as is custom I ping him like mad. Mags and Dayze were already there in a flash, and as the bowl dropped, I boosted myself into position on the edge of aforementioned building, facing the generator. I’m peppering the caged beast with weak points, Maggie’s dropping poons left and right. Ok, so the Trapper and I are doing our jobs… where are the damage dealers at?
“Alright” I reason with myself, “our Support is Bucket, and he was just flying his head around a moment ago. He’s got some catchup to do. Understandable.” And sure enough, when I turn around I see the Tinman dutifully making his way over to us. Ok, fine. “But where the hell is Markov…?”
200 or so meters in the distance, way on the opposite side of the map, there’s The Russian Thunderclap doing a jig with ol’ Crowbill. Roughly half of his health bar is already gone, but being Lazarus that’s not really what I’m concerned about. It’s sad, really. I have to ASSUME that he thinks he has the Monster, as so many novice hunters do. There’s a chance he’s congratulating himself on soloing the beast right now, chuckling to himself that “Markov needs no teem to slay the Beast!”
But no, mighty though the Crowbill might be, he’s certainly no Goliath. That thing is still hopping around frantically inside this great big bubble, covered in tiny holes, harpoons sticking in his scaly ass at every step. But lo, the Arena just fell, and now the monster runs free.
We barely chewed through his armor. A Stage 1 beastie caught under a box, and we hardly put a scratch on him.
See, in Evolve, the Hunters have the power to overcome anything. The tools are all in the box, but each of the four companions has to use those tools to do their job. The Trapper and I were doing our jobs, and Support was doing the best he could. Assault has one job, possibly the most dangerous, but ostensibly the easiest; get in the monster’s face. Trapper can trap, Support can support, and Medic can drop heals all day, but if Assault isn’t assaulting, that monster’s never going to feel the heat.
But you know, outside of the 4 classes, there’s still other jobs to be fulfilled. For what is a team without a leader? Experience is just as useful a tool as any shield projector or harpoon gun. That’s when I realized that even though I was using my tools to do my job as Medic, I was shamefully underperforming at my job as leader.
As a dedicated Monster player, sometimes I forget how important it is to communicate. At that point, I decided that I wouldn’t be making that mistake again. I dusted off my microphone, plugged it in, and mustered up the best pep talk I could.
It was a long, shaky road, but in the end, we actually managed to pull it out. A brutal stage 3 brawl at the relay. And you know what? when it came down to the wire, it was that same Markov holding out against the beast, each with a sliver of health. The Goliath hopped out of there real quick; all he had to do was grab some armor and he could finish the job no problem. We had given it our best shot, but I thought for sure we had lost…
…Until suddenly: “Hunters Win!”
The killing blow was dealt by a Crowbill Sloth.
If there’s a lesson to be had here, I’m not sure what it is. But I am sure that from now on, I’ll have my mic at my side at all times for the rare chance I’m thrust onto a Hunter team. I’m also sure that I’ll be giving the Sloths the respect they deserve in future, regardless of which side I happen to be playing on.
Happy hunting folks. Hope to see you out in the wilds of Shear soon