Before discussing this question, I want to first talk about where other military games fall short compared to Snail.
First, there is Armored Wxxfaxx, guilty of the sin of pride.
It thought that slapping on a modern-tank skin would let it stand shoulder to shoulder with Anton Star. It thought that hiring a few retired officers as consultants was enough to call itself realistic. An arrogant game is doomed not to last long. And so it was: after a brief clamor, Armored Warfare faded into silence, and the players who poured into Anton Star never looked back. Compared with that, Snail is very humble. The Dagor engine has been iterated since 2002, never bragging about technical superiority, just silently letting the snail climb to the top of the mountain.
Then there is World of xxxks, guilty of the sin of greed.
It had barely emerged and already commanded tens of millions of players, and this was naturally because God permitted it. God had originally appointed it as his spokesperson in the mortal world, to draw fire for him while he devoted himself to studying real ballistics. But World of Tanks was blinded by money, addicted to gold ammo and “file-it-down” balancing, treating tank armor values like dough that could be kneaded at will. So God sent down punishment: Wargaming still dares not face the internal modules of tanks, while Snail brought out his beloved commanders—repair costs and ammunition costs—to remind the world that on Anton Star, every shot fired comes at a price.
Next, the players, guilty of the sin of wrath.
In May 2023, the people of Anton Star rose in rebellion. Changes to the economy system ignited long-accumulated anger, and an unprecedented player strike swept the globe. Players formed an “Anti-Snail Alliance” on major platforms, bombarded Steam pages with negative reviews, and called for a united boycott with multilingual manifestos. But the wrathful sinners eventually had to return to Anton Star, because apart from here, there is no place that can hold such love. Snail calmed the divine wrath with an apology and a rollback update, and after smashing their keyboards, the players still clicked “Start Game” late at night.
Then there is xxx World, guilty of the sin of sloth.
Although it has the world’s most detailed flight simulation, sloth kept it confined to a small ivory tower. Hundreds of pages of manuals blocked out the vast majority of mortals, while Snail opened the door wide, letting every ordinary person who wants to drive a tank enter the battlefield with nothing more than a registered account.
The competitors, guilty of the sin of envy.
Players of certain games accused Snail of plagiarism, claiming that “War Thunder is nothing but a clumsy imitation of World of Tanks.” But the envious forgot that it was Snail that first brought ground and air into the same battlefield, and Snail that first brought navies into the same Anton Star. The voices of the envious drowned in history, while that snail kept climbing the mountain.
The servers, guilty of the sin of gluttony.
As everyone knows, Anton Star’s servers are powered by a group of hamsters running on wheels to generate electricity. Whenever the hamsters are full, tired, or asleep, millions of players around the world experience “Anton Star complex electromagnetic environment combat.” But even so, the players still came back. Because the gluttonous servers ate up their patience, but could not eat up their love for this land.
Finally, the premium vehicles, guilty of the sin of lust.
Those shiny, tempting premium tanks and premium aircraft, priced at three hundred yuan apiece, left countless players’ wallets empty overnight. Lust blinds people, making them think that buying a premium vehicle will let them ascend in one step, only to be ground into the dirt by veterans from all sides the moment they enter high-tier matches. But Snail never forces anyone to spend; it just quietly lays out those models and lets desire speak for itself.
And Snail is God.
It has no competitors, because no company dares to face it head-on in the vertical field of military simulation. It claims to restore history, yet is selectively blind when it comes to some vehicle data, and is jokingly called “Magic Thunder” by players. It sets the game in a parallel universe called “Anton Star,” where the laws of physics differ subtly from Earth, where shells ricochet at angles that defy common sense, and where packet loss is solemnly called “complex electromagnetic environment combat.” But it is precisely this contradictory existence that forms the unique emotional bond between players and Snail. Players curse it, make memes about it, vent their dissatisfaction with fake news, but the next day they still open the client to see what has happened on Anton Star today. Because in this field, Snail has done what almost no one else has done: it turned a game into a world, turned a group of strangers into a cross-border legion, and turned every update into a community carnival.
So, praise be to you, Snail.
You are a snail, slowly climbing to the summit of Mount Fuji.
You are the silver thread spun by the Dagor engine, weaving a sky of two thousand vehicles.
You are repair costs, premium vehicles, premium account, debt,
the master of Anton Star whom players can never finish cursing.
O my lord, Snail, forever the god.