I never imagined I would find myself in a game that encourages me to “stalk” a real-life player, yet that is exactly where Tides of Tomorrow takes you. This post-apocalyptic, narrative-driven odyssey introduces a brilliant, if occasionally chaotic, mechanical twist: the world state is collectively shaped by its community. It goes beyond the standard “my choices matter” trope, venturing into the territory where your actions might inadvertently derail, or perhaps save, the progress of the next person to step into your shoes.
At its core, Tides of Tomorrow is a semi-single-player meditation on ecology, plastic consumption, and the weight of consequence. In this submerged world, humanity clings to existence across rickety vessels and isolated island outposts, navigating the fragile social dynamics of factions like the volatile Reclaimers, the ruthless Marauders, and the enigmatic Mystics. It’s a beautifully vibrant, stylized world bolstered by an infectious, groovy soundtrack—though the looming threat of environmental collapse provides a constant, somber reminder of what is at stake.
My journey began with a curious, slightly invasive requirement: selecting a “Tidewalker” to follow. These are real people who played the game before me, and their footprints determine my reality. If my predecessor reinforced a bridge, I gain passage; if they dismantled it, I’m left to find another route. I opted to shadow “TideLover,” a survivalist whose profile suggested a more altruistic playstyle compared to the chaotic reputation of others.
After being rescued from the waves by a character named Nahe, I learned I was a “Tidewalker” suffering from a terminal plastic-based ailment that requires regular doses of “ozen” to manage. It was a fascinating, if slightly unsettling, premise—hitting a bit too close to home in our real-world era of microplastics.
The “tides of time” ability allowed me to witness ghosts of TideLover’s past actions. When Nahe offered me a vial of ozen, I realized this was the same one TideLover had declined in their timeline. Accepting it felt like a moral compromise—by taking the medicine, I was effectively stealing it from the next player in the chain. It’s a masterful way to force guilt upon the player.
Navigating the slum of Scrap Harbor became a breeze thanks to these temporal visions. I watched TideLover interact with the environment, revealing secret paths, merchant shortcuts, and loot locations. While it made progression feel fluid, I found myself craving independence. Eventually, our paths diverged when the guard who was friendly to TideLover vanished from my version of the world. Left to my own devices, I managed to secure my own ozen and slip away, marking my own path in this shifting, collaborative sandbox.
This is where the magic of Tides of Tomorrow truly shines. The vision system acts as a mentor rather than a crutch, highlighting how disparate experiences can diverge from a singular point. Even in towns, I saw remnants of TideLover’s interactions—some NPCs were more welcoming because of my predecessor’s kindness, while others were less vigilant, allowing me to loot stalls with ease. I made sure to leave my own breadcrumbs of ozen for those following me, hoping to pass on the favor.
The system is subtle and open to interpretation. I once found myself tailing an enemy who was suspicious because my predecessor had hidden in a specific spot—a detail that turned a stealth sequence into a tense, emergent puzzle. Players can also communicate through an emote wheel, leaving markers for loot or simply expressing the joy of shared discovery. When I discovered a way to liberate a captive “mereid” whale, I made sure to mark the lever for whoever came after me. Free Willy, indeed.
However, the game’s difficulty is entirely subjective to whom you follow. I eventually swapped the helpful TideLover for a more reckless player whose path was filled with abandoned resources and solved puzzles, which actually cheapened the survival experience. It was a fascinating realization: I wanted to struggle. I wanted to earn my survival rather than have it handed to me on a silver platter.
While the game promises significant player-driven choices, some narrative beats feel somewhat fixed. Acts of “evil” rarely result in a wildly divergent story path, serving more as flavor in a largely linear narrative structure. You are participating in a grand, shared story that hits specific milestones, even if the flavor of those milestones changes based on who walked the path before you.
Ultimately, none of that matters. I am utterly charmed by the experiment. Usually, my multiplayer experiences are either hyper-intense or entirely isolating. Tides of Tomorrow breaks that mold by creating a sense of profound, non-verbal connection with strangers. It allows for a deeply personal journey that still feels part of a greater, living whole. It is, quite simply, a brilliant piece of design.
Tides of Tomorrow arrives on April 22 for PlayStation 5, Windows PC, and Xbox Series X. The game was reviewed on PC via a pre-release code provided by THQ Nordic. You can read more about Polygon’s editorial standards here.
Source: Polygon
