While this thesis is typically reserved for late night conversations with close friends, Psyonix accepted it as a genuine assignment and produced Rocket League. It’s soccer with cars—and the execution of this idea has no business being as good as the fantasy.
A match in Rocket League opens with the pomp expected of major televised sporting events. Players take the field under cheers of adoration and proceed to engage in a test of competitive skill. Because this isn’t real life the players are cars, and because it’s not actually soccer there aren’t pesky rules to weigh everything else down.
By default, Rocket League is two teams of three, a giant ball with somewhat realistic movement, and two goals on either side. At first glance this may seem like some Laissez-faire physics experiment where objects in motion gently collide against each other, with any sort of measurable progress being the result of a fortuitous accident. In reality Rocket League feels more like the product of incredible refinement, with car handling tweaked to perfection and ball physics adjusted to vaguely predictable perfection. Comparisons to Supersonic Acrobatic Rocket-Power Battle-Cars are fair (Psyonix developed both titles), but Rocket League, with nearly seven years of refinement in tow, behaves much differently.
It’s a strange comparison, but the behavior of the ball and the fidelity of control call to mind Team Meat’s work with Super Meat Boy. That particular game handled perfectly, which was completely necessary in the face of its extraordinary challenges. Team Meat reportedly obsessed over the fidelity of control, which few actually noticed by the simple fact of it working perfectly. Mistakes are easier to see and openly declare, and it’s a strange but delightful treat when it all simply works as it should. As Super Meat Boy was the specific player control, Rocket League is to properly managing a giant soccer ball under the guise of a remote control car.
The conditions that define Rocket League’s control oblige the model of easy-to-learn, difficult-to-master. Quick acceleration is a given, as is a reverse option. A turbo meter can be filled via on-field pick-ups, but nuance arrives in the form of the jump mechanic. You can jump and get some decent rotation and power, but a second jump, which carries with at a magic force of propulsion, is essentially a controlled mid-air kick. Mid-air car rotation is another important facet, as it, along with speed, directly influences the trajectory of the struck ball. It’s difficult to get your head around, but in proper motion every awesome play in Rocket League looks like a one-in-a-million bicycle kick in real-life soccer. Everything seems to play as cool as it looks.
With a bit of practice, some advanced maneuvers start working their way into your game. Jumping once, engaging boost, and properly managing your car’s nose allows you to literally fly around the arena. Performing a back or forward flip, in the absence of available turbo, gives your car a much needed boost in acceleration. Watching three or more cars essentially go up for control over a jump ball requires precise timing. Throttling an opponent in a fully turbo’d blast results in instant demolition, removing them from the game for a few precious seconds.
My cognitive interpretation of Rocket League was subject to constant revision. When I first started I essentially played Rocket League like five-year-olds play soccer, where an entire smattering of humans coalesce around the ball for the entirety of the game. Hitting the ball is how you score, and I wanted to score. With time I became more of a field manager; I knew what would happen to the ball once it got into a corner, and I always took the time to set myself up for a higher percentage shot. Did it always work? Of course not, but it made for a higher degree of strategy inside every game. Whether I was sticking around mid-field, hanging out by the goal, or going in for a strike, I always had a role somewhere on the field.
It all comes back to the constant spontaneity of the ball in play. You have some idea of how it’s going to react to a direct or indirect hit, but there’s no little accounting for the other five maniacs on the field. Driving up and along the curved walls, flying through the air like a bird, camping in front of the opposing goal, and double jumping in a dozen different directions all require constant consideration. Breakaway runs to an empty goal are a rare sight, as there’s seemingly always someone waiting in the wings (with more turbo than you) fiendishly prepared to ruin your run.
Structurally, Rocket League is confident enough to allow the player to shift around some of its rules. Default 3 vs 3 matches can either be opened up to 4 v 4, or broken down into 2 v 2 and 1 v 1. Seasons of varying lengths are also offered, complete with a two-game playoff against the top ranked teams of the season. Exhibition matches are also on the table, should you just want to get in a quick game without committing to an entire season.
Playing against Rocket League’s AI is fine (and it certainly helped learn the nuances of the game) but it’s better when played with and against friends and strangers. Rocket League actually offers four-way split screen play, nearly unheard of in 2015, in addition to a full suite of ranked and unranked online options. Every interactive mode had the common denominator of being a truckload of fun, and quite a bit different from the predictability of the AI’s game. People make more mistakes, sure, but they’re equally capable of amazing and seemingly impossible actions, ludicrously defined by creating acceptable passing games and exacting precise control over a vehicle tumbling through mid-air. Rocket League, in proper motion, as the potential to exist as a weird ballet, one made all the more inviting by its accessible control and easy-to-grasp objectives. It’s simultaneously inviting for newcomers and hard enough for a larger core.
Rocket League’s online functionality—this review is obviously being written some two weeks after launch—has been called into question. The first few days, on either platform, weren’t smooth and it seemed impossible to get into a game. Two weeks later and I can seemingly get a match whenever I try to find one, and the drop-in/drop-out rosters are great at filling in spots. A noticeable caveat is when someone drops mid-match and Rocket League summons and AI player, and the thing ends up scoring like four goals in a row. I’m not sure what the default difficulty is in those matches, but removing the human element and replacing it with machine geared for apparent perfection is a real bummer. Complaints aside, for a game that seamlessly merges PlayStation 4 and PC players, Rocket League performs incredibly well.
Regarding longevity, Rocket League is decorated with plenty of aesthetic doodads to unlock and explore. You earn something to customize your car—new paint, new car models, different R/C flags, tires, decals, wheels, hats—after every match. With over 150 total items, there’s plenty to keep you going. It’s important to note that none of this stuff, functionally, does anything. It’s all cosmetic, as any attempt to add or subtract individual stats would demolish the equality of the playing field. Everything looks different, but it all plays the same.
The renaissance of arcade multiplayer has been brewing for a couple years, and Rocket League feels poised to join Sportsfriends, Nidhogg, and TowerFall Ascension as viable alternatives to the joyless establishment. Measured skill against constant unpredictability is the perfect formula for competitive engagement, and Rocket League, with its temperamental ball and varying degrees of player-authored control, fits snuggly inside the mold.
