There’s a specific kind of dread that only Hell Let Loose games seem able to manufacture, and it’s not the dread of dying. It’s the dread of the ten minutes before you die, when you’re crawling through waist-high grass towards a treeline that might as well be the surface of the moon for all you can see into it. Hell Let Loose: Vietnam takes that formula, drags it into the jungle, and somehow makes it worse. In the best way.
Developer Expression Games hasn’t reinvented the wheel here, and it hasn’t tried to. This is still the same 50 versus 50 grind of capturing points, building garrisons, and dying to a rifle you never saw fire. What’s changed is the scenery and the toys. You’re now fighting across six launch maps, dense jungle, twisting river deltas, the kind of terrain that swallows a squad whole if nobody’s talking. American forces get helicopters for troop drops and fire support. The North Vietnamese Army gets tunnel networks to disappear into. Both sides get access to river combat with patrol boats, which is exactly as chaotic as it sounds and somehow still less stressful than being spotted crossing open ground.
That visibility problem is the whole game, really. You genuinely cannot see the enemy until they’re on top of you, and by then it’s usually too late, because everything here still kills you in one hit if it’s aimed with any competence at all. Spend ten minutes crawling to what you’re sure is a foolproof vantage point, get the angle set up just right, feel very clever indeed, and then get dropped by someone you never clocked. It’s brutal. It’s also, somehow, the point. This is a game built entirely around the tension between careful and stupid, and it punishes stupid so hard that careful starts to feel like a superpower.

Where it really sings is with a full squad on comms, calling flanks, marking tunnel entrances, actually behaving like a coordinated unit instead of six separate main characters. Get that right and you get proper knuckle-whitening-tactical-em-up moments (it’ll catch on), the kind where a five-minute push on a single objective feels like a genuine achievement rather than a coin flip. Get it wrong, or worse, get put in a squad where nobody’s said a word since the match loaded, and the whole thing turns lonely fast. You’re just a bloke in a jungle, guessing, and Vietnam’s maps are unforgiving enough that guessing gets you killed constantly. It’s the same double-edged sword the original game always had, just sharper now that the terrain hides you so well it also hides everyone else, and the lack of any kind of communication can genuinely ruin a game. There aren’t many other games that demand this level of interaction, and it makes the game all the more unique for it.
The helicopters deserve a paragraph of their own, mostly as a warning. They are an absolute bastard to fly. Getting one off the ground without embarrassing yourself takes actual practice, and even competent pilots will tell you every landing feels like a controlled argument with physics. But the payoff for sticking with it is enormous, dropping a squad exactly where they need to be, or turning up with rockets at the precise moment a push is stalling, is one of the few moments in this game that feels genuinely heroic rather than just lucky. Persevere with it. It’s worth the early humiliation, and something I’m really looking forward to being comfortable doing.
None of this is a game that’s going to convert anyone who bounced off the original Hell Let Loose. The pace is slow by design, deaths are frequent and often unfair-feeling even when they’re not, and if your idea of a shooter is quick respawns and constant action, this will feel like being made to do homework in a swamp. But for the people it’s built for, the ones who want teamwork to actually mean something and communication to actually matter, this is close to the best version of that idea currently available. It asks a lot. It gives back more. If you’ve got some mates willing to actually use their microphones, clear your evening – it’ll be 2am before you know it.
Reviewed on PC

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