This Driving Survival Roguelike is One of the Greatest Video Game Mash-ups

While the majority of video games simply refine, pivot, or master pre-existing formulas, a rare few manage to pioneer entirely new ones. Others cleverly mash together different concepts to revitalize a franchise or a style. Then, on rare occasions, a title emerges that takes three or four distinct genres, blends them into a chaotic crucible, and births something entirely untamed and unrepeatable—not the blueprint for a new trend, but a glorious, singular masterpiece.

I have an enduring fascination with experiences of this caliber, and my absolute standout from recent years is Pacific Drive: an apocalyptic sci-fi horror survival roguelike road trip simulator, currently accessible through Xbox Game Pass and PlayStation Plus.

Set in an alternate 1990s timeline, Pacific Drive tasks you with exploring the Zone—an eerie, heavily irradiated expanse of the Pacific Northwest sealed off from the outside world ever since a catastrophic scientific anomaly occurred back in the 1950s. Your trusty vessel for this perilous expedition is a rattling, vintage station wagon that you steadily overhaul, arming and optimizing it to withstand the lethal anomalies of the exclusion zone.

The game’s understated narrative introduces a subtle psychic bond between your avatar and the automobile. Realistically, developer Ironwood Studios didn’t even need to script this in; you are virtually guaranteed to forge a genuine, deeply affectionate symbiosis with the battered old vehicle simply through playing.

At its core, Pacific Drive revolves around pushing deeper into a semi-procedural map, unraveling overarching mysteries across successive, self-directed expeditions. Your primary objective is usually to reach a designated extraction point—or simply venture as far as your supplies permit—harvesting critical materials for upgrades along the way. Operating from a first-person perspective, you carefully pilot your car across hazardous terrain, hopping out to scavenge derelict research labs or execute frantic, improvised repairs to keep the engine turning over.

Make no mistake, this is an unforgiving, volatile experience. Overlook minor oversights—such as draining your car battery by accidentally leaving the headlights blazing—and you will swiftly find yourself facing catastrophic consequences. Traditional hostile combatants are absent, yet you will contend with aggressive, scrap-huddled monstrosities that latch onto your chassis, stray drones trying to yank you toward the treeline, crackling pillars of lightning, and treacherous slicks of toxic waste.

Should you perish or prematurely abort a run out of self-preservation, you forfeit all collected loot while your vehicle sustains heavy structural damage requiring extensive repairs. There have been times when I limped back to the garage with most doors and body panels entirely missing, forcing me to fabricate replacements from scratch. To successfully conclude an excursion, you must activate a gateway—a terrifying, reality-warping column of light that destabilizes the local environment—and tear toward it as the landscape unravels around you.

That frantic dash serves as the pulse-pounding climax of any run, though peace is a rare commodity in Pacific Drive, even during slower, methodical stretches. It exudes a spine-chilling, oppressive tension where sheer luck dictates survival just as much as meticulous planning or raw bravery. Because mid-run saves are entirely absent, the psychological stakes escalate exponentially with every passing minute, making the loss of an hour’s worth of progress entirely too easy to stomach.

This is a survival game in the truest sense—belonging to a tradition of titles centered around starting from zero, scavenging relentlessly, and crafting gear to secure a foothold in a hostile environment. Yet it is also a survival game in its purest definition, where navigating natural perils and staying breathing by any means necessary is the ultimate benchmark of success.

Ultimately, what elevates Pacific Drive above the pack is its distinctive soul, channeled entirely through the personality of your automobile. At its core, this remains an exceptional driving game: the handling of the station wagon—featuring springy suspension, loose steering, and a low-torque, rumbling engine—feels remarkably authentic and deeply rewarding. Atmospheric indie rock drifts softly from the dashboard stereo, while fellow Zone survivors occasionally chime in over the radio frequencies to keep the profound loneliness at bay. The surrounding landscape is simultaneously forbidding and breathtaking, populated by monolithic, derelict structures reminiscent of Half-Life 2, illuminated by surreal phenomena, and steeped in the fog-drenched forests evocative of Twin Peaks and The X-Files.

The true genius of Pacific Drive lies in anchoring all your upgrade and crafting efforts not to a stationary home base, but to a moving car that doubles as your inventory, mobile laboratory, defensive armor, and transport vessel. That single design choice transforms it into an unconventional survival triumph and, in its own twisted fashion, a brilliant tribute to the liberating joy of the open road. It is a game dedicated to gathering everything you cherish—your livelihood, your memories, and your aspirations—and hitting the highway. Honestly, what could be better?

Source: Polygon