When I once again drove the Type 59 tank on the battlefield of the thunder of war, and watched the muzzle of the German “Leopard 2A6” on the opposite side aimed at me, the familiar feeling of powerlessness came back to me. There is a bitter joke circulating among the Chinese gamers: “We are not playing a game, but experiencing a reproduction of China’s modern military history - using backward equipment against advanced technology.” Behind this self-deprecation, it reflects the unique dilemma and complex experience faced by Chinese players in War Thunder, a game with “historical truth” as the selling point.
War Thunder’s mid-tech tree resembles a hastily built stage set. From the T-26 and M3A3 light tanks of World War II, to the Type 59 and Type 69 of the Cold War, and then to the modern ZTZ96/99 series, this technology tree superficially outlines the development trajectory of China’s armored forces, but in fact it is full of fractures and jumps. The mid-range cars in games are often in an awkward “middle state” – neither old enough to add to the historical sentiment and not modern enough to have a performance advantage. Compared with the iconic “star equipment” of the German, American, and Soviet systems, the Chinese vehicles are more like the existence of filling the gaps. This inherent deficiency in the design of the technology tree has buried the first hidden danger for the gaming experience of middle-class players.
The most immediate pain for mid-range gamers stems from the performance gap in games. Taking the top room as an example, when the ZTZ99A faces the M1A2 SEP or the Leopard 2A7, the gap in protection, fire control, maneuverability, etc. is often desperate. The jingle of cannonballs hitting the opponent’s turret has become a nightmare background sound for many mid-range players. What’s even more frustrating is that this disparity doesn’t stem entirely from historical facts – there is a clear controversy over the parameter setting of some of the game’s Chinese equipment, such as the systematic underestimation of the protection of the early Type 99 tank. The stats on the stats don’t lie: the win rate of the top mid-range cars has hovered around 45% for a long time, well below the 50-55% of the mainstream range. This systemic disadvantage has forced many mid-tier players to come to terms with the harsh reality that they will have to put in more skill and tactical ingenuity to get the same gaming experience as other players.
There is an interesting stratification within the mid-range player base. One part is the “sentimental party”, who may have a special affection for China’s military history, and regard the 59 style in the game as a symbol of the military generation of their parents; The other part is the “challengers”, who enjoy the thrill of defeating strong opponents with weak equipment; There are also some “all-breed dominant” players who just use the mid-range as one of the many options. This layering has led to a split in player demands, with some calling for more mid-range performance for fairness, while others insisting on an “authentic” historical restoration, even if it may not be accurate. Debates on official forums about the balance of the mid-range often turn into civil wars between different groups of players, rather than a united front against developers.
War Thunder developer Gaijin Entertainment’s attitude towards the Chinese system can be described as “hot and cold”. In some versions, the system will suddenly get a few new vehicles, triggering a brief period of enthusiasm; Subsequently, it may remain in a state of oblivion for a long time. The 2022 “New Eight Wheels” event is quite representative - the long-awaited ZBL-08 wheeled combat vehicle was found to have a rough model and obvious discrepancies between the performance parameters and the real thing after the actual installation, triggering large-scale protests. Officials eventually made adjustments, but this process exposed the developer’s inadequacy and perfunctory attitude towards the collection of Chinese data. The more fundamental problem is that the profit model of War Thunder dictates that developers must prioritize the experience of mainstream players (European, American, Russian), which makes the Chinese system always on the back burner. One veteran player’s words hit the nail on the head: "When the mid-system was updated, we weren’t celebrating what we had gained, we were glad we hadn’t been cut this time. "
In the midst of continuous struggle and compromise, Chinese players have developed a unique survival strategy. They are proficient in “weak point shooting” and can accurately remember the position of the ammunition racks of all opponent tanks; They excel at tactical ambushes because the odds of winning a head-to-head confrontation are slim; They form a fixed team of troops and make up for the disadvantages of individual soldiers through team cooperation. These strategies have given birth to a peculiar Chinese subculture: the “Chinese counterattack” video on station B always gets a high number of clicks, the “Chinese counterattack” posts in the forum are often written in great detail, and the tacit cooperation between Chinese players in the game is significantly higher than that of other departments. This solidarity in the face of adversity is perhaps the best response to unfair treatment.
For many Chinese gamers, choosing the Chinese system is not only a game option, but also an expression of identity. When they use Chinese characters in their IDs and spray-paint the five-star red flag on their vehicles, this virtual battlefield symbol of the country is given meaning beyond the game itself. Because of this, when encountering injustice in the game, the player’s reaction often goes beyond the simple discussion of game balance and has a certain national emotional color. The 2023 “J-8 controversy” is a case in point: when Chinese gamers discovered that the J-8II’s performance in games was grossly underestimated, protests quickly spread from gaming forums to social media, eventually prompting developers to revisit the data. Such incidents reveal a deep reality: in the global game, the performance of virtual equipment has long been not only an entertainment issue, but also an extended battlefield of soft power competition.
The plight of gamers in War Thunder essentially reflects the problem of cultural hegemony in the gaming industry. When a military game developed by a Russian company and mainly aimed at the European and American markets tries to “reproduce” Chinese military equipment, it will inevitably be limited by multiple factors such as access to information, cultural perception, and commercial considerations. As a result, the Chinese cannot be completely ignored (because the Chinese market is important) and it is difficult to be treated as a true equal. This structural contradiction is inextricable in the short term, and it requires players to find a balance between having fun and maintaining their self-esteem – either accepting reality and having fun, or moving on to other, more “strong” categories.
Before each update, mid-range players wait for that faint hope like Godot: maybe this time it will be strengthened? Maybe there will be new vehicles? Maybe be able to turn over? This collective anticipation, and the general disappointment that comes with it, forms the central cycle of the WarThunder experience. It’s absurd but realistic, like the Type 59 tank in the game, knowing that the DM53 shells on the opposite Leopard 2 will easily penetrate its first armor, but still pressing the “join the fight” button again and again. Perhaps, this is the existentialism that belongs to the players in War Thunder: insisting on choosing what you love in a game that you know is unfair, and fighting for it to the end.
