I don’t know a lot about meteorology. My local weather radar is a mostly frightening doohickey that I regard the way I assume Homo erectus might regard a quantum computer. Maybe that’s why aftertutorial told me how to identify the tell-tale, swirling “hook echo” pattern that marks a potential tornado, I was more psyched than worried to be met with a deadly calamity only meters away.
There are long stretches of downtime where you’re just exploring the game’s fictionalized take on American tornado country, but naturally, Outbrk is at its best when a promising storm rolls in. Once you’ve got a target in mind, you’re always easing toward danger or rocketing away from it; whether that’s a hail storm trying to crack open your windshield or lightning striking way too close for comfort.
It all bore a sort of tactile presence weather rarely does in games—which is good, since it’s usually set dressing rather than the main event. Clouds and rotating winds seem to physically gather in the distance rather than hide in a skybox texture, and the same applies to lightning, which is so real it might just fry you. It’s all crafted using historic weather data, as well, which helps the pace of everything feel organic and lends a sense of realism.
Those matchmaking woes—long queues, struggles to find players, games failing to start, etc.—are particularly unfortunate, because while the game does have an offline mode, it doesn’t compare to the emergent social experience of coordinating with other storm chasers, trying to get ahead of the pack and report big disasters first. Outbrk seems to agree, as you get no in-game currency for playing offline.