The Beastmaster of S.T.A.L.K.E.R. 2, part one: How to make friends and eviscerate people

S.T.A.L.K.E.R. 2: Heart of Chornobyl challenges you to survive the Zone, a land where the rules of nature are more like half-hearted suggestions and death may come from a mutant’s fang as quickly as a bandit’s bullet. But what if you could not only survive it, but tame it?

I am Bohdan Beastmaster, aspiring wrangler of all the radiation-twisted insults to God that occupy the Zone. One of its rogue Artifacts exploded my flat, and rather than find a place on SpareRoom, I’ve gone for the easier and safer option of venturing into the wilds of Chornobyl – armed not with rusty AKs or scavenged grenades but the teeth and claws of my mutant soon-to-be companions. The absence of any actual fauna-influencing tools or techniques only makes my plan even simpler: find beasts, aggro beasts onto human enemies, win.

My first job, upon being deposited at the Zone by a helpful nerd, would be recruiting a mutie. And immediately after slipping through a crack in the perimeter wall, that’s exactly what I do. It’s a Flesh, a mad-eyed abomination of what used to be a pig, and while he wastes no time trying to maul me with razor-sharp trotters, his thick hide and simple-minded chasing make him ideal for siccing on whatever baddies I find. I name him Ham, and can just tell that we’re going to be best friends for life.

Moments later, I abandon Ham, forced to continue alone by an inconsiderately placed ladder tutorial in which he just can’t seem to figure out the rungs. After ransacking a science outpost and grabbing an Artifact of my own, a worthy replacement shows up: the fearsome, self-camouflaging Bloodsucker, whose alliance proposal begins with leaping out of his cloak and knocking me on my arse. Such ferocious hunting instincts would be perfect for my beastrmastering, but alas, he too is left behind after declining to follow me through what I would have previously considered a Bloodsucker-sized hole in a fence.

This was a problem, as my next encounter would be with a gang of bandits, who – seemingly granted exceptional night vision by all the radioactive vodka in their diet – instantly spot me trying to creep past. I flee into a nearby swamp, their bullets thwipping into the murky water around me, and manage to wade with only a few new holes into the shell of a grounded barge.

I’m not the first one there. In a stroke of luck, this ship is haunted by a Poltergeist, an invisible mutant that telekinetically flings debris at intruders with the force of Eric Cantona kung-fu kicking a Croydoner. I’m unarmed, bleeding, and being pelted with crates, but if I can stay put and stay alive, this might be exactly what I need to turn the tables. I cower for a few seconds to let my pursuers catch up, then muster just enough courage to stick my head through a doorway and see a bandit cop a steel bucket in the head. Yes, Eric!

At last, I’ve engineered my first monster vs. man battle, but my lack of healing items means I can’t risk hanging around to watch. I instead hoof it to the top deck and listen out for the sounds of clattering oil drums and perishing highwaymen. Seconds later:

Yes, Eric.

Unlike Flesh, Poltergeists won’t let themselves be baited away from their homes, so I wait for the screams to stop before gingerly hopping back down to ground level, bidding goodbye to my see-through saviour on the way. The nerd reappears on the radio, urging me to finish up an anomaly hunt post-haste, but it’s hard to hear his whinging over the singing of my own heart, buoyed by a first successful application of the Zone’s creatures onto its more invasive inhabitants.

The anomaly thing, on the other hand, could hardly go worse. Mysterious soldiers crash my scanning party, only to be attacked and picked off themselves by unseen assailants. In the confusion, I make a run for it, and am promptly clobbered, robbed, and knocked out cold by a shadowy stalker. Ham, wherever he was, was no help at all.

I awake to the hum of gravitational anomalies and the growl of a stray dog gnawing on my trousers. Maybe he wants to be friends?

Guess not. But I am rescued by cheery solo stalker Richter, who gifts me an infinite supply of bolts and directs me to the nearest settlement. What a nice man. I’ll be sure to keep my pets away from him. Speaking of which, I’m now out of the linear stretch and into the open Zone, which should alleviate my problems with adopting mutants who can’t range beyond a tiny patch of fenced-in mud. Not 30 seconds up the road, the opportunity to test this assumption presents itself, with a trio of bandits harassing some poor bloke trapped in a bungalow. This looks like a job for Bohdan, and whichever hungry claw blobs I can find around here.

My first stop, an old warehouse, is a bust – its only occupants are more bandits, who turn out to be mates of the three I’m already plotting to kill. A nearby cowshed, however, turns out to be teeming with Flesh, and before long I’m being accompanied/chased by a full squad of four post-pig warriors.

Sadly, there was no longer a war to fight. I’m too late – by the time I return to the victim’s hovel, he’s been killed to death, and the perpetrators have fled alongside their accomplices at the warehouse. I drag my butchershop quartet around the surrounding hills, looking for something non-innocent to pitch them against, but this part of the Zone suddenly seems awfully light on evildoers, and I can’t bring myself to start a bloodbath in the town that my new bolt dealer is friendly with.

Foolishly, however, I fail to consider the patrolling soldiers that sweep the settlement’s outskirts. They’re not hostile to me personally, but in their eyes, four bloodthirsty mutants look an awful lot like four bloodthirsty mutants, and a roaming duo of grunts eventually arrive to start pumping rounds into my crew. There are encouraging signs that my wider mission isn’t doomed: despite the range disadvantage of pig hands against two assault rifles, they do manage to tear down one of the soldiers before squealing their last. Still, it’s not the end I wanted for these guys, any more so than the man I couldn’t save earlier.

Feeling a bit deflated, I slink into town and trade my unwanted ammo for a single sausage, hoping that the scent of cured meat will lure more beasties my way. In search of extra sausage money, I also pick up a job from the barman, agreeing to track down a debtor who’s hiding out nearby. On approach, I see that he too is being accosted by a small band of would-be thieves. Could this be a chance for redemption? Darting off to pick up more monsters could risk another mission failure, but since the chances of crushing them under a pile of fifty thousand thrown bolts seem slim (and would break my rules), I don’t have much of a choice.

The immediate surroundings aren’t very forthcoming with helpers. A pack of dogs attack when I investigate the local factory, but being territorial creatures, they don’t chase me beyond its outer walls. A bombed-out house looks promising, and contains some valuable medkits, but is still devoid of recruitable horrors.

Short on options, I retreat to what I know, and schlep all the way back to the cowshed in the hopes that some other mutants have moved in. Instead, I find one last, lone Flesh, snuffling around in the darkness. Perhaps the offspring of my previous cohorts? My hopes fade when I realise he’s alone, and likely not a match for multiple Uzi wielders, but then they all come rushing back when I realise he’s not attacking me. He’s not attacking me. He’ll follow me around the shed, and jump up if I move suddenly, but he is not. Attacking me.

Clearly, Bohdan Beastmaster’s taming skills are beyond even the comprehension of myself, and/or GSC Game World’s QA department. Somehow, I’ve brought this little fella – who I’ll name Ham II – to heel, and there’s no way that I’m going to botch another rescue with such a loyal companion. He even does a sploot when I stop for him, like a vast tumorous corgi.

Together, we’d march up the hill and vanquish the tracksuited scum. Together, we’d free the debtor and claim our prize. Together, we’d… ah, alright lads. Nah, he’s with me. Nah we’re just going to no stop wait-

No Ham II, don’t-

…I’m going to need more pigs.