Some games beg to be played with friends. Wildgate practically demands it. Built on the backs of seasoned developers with deep roots in competitive and cooperative game design, Moonshot Games’ debut is a confident entry into the increasingly crowded PvPvE space.
It throws players into the role of prospectors: ragtag space crews scavenging for a powerful artifact in contested zones filled with danger. The setup is familiar, but the execution is anything but. Wildgate is not a quiet game. It’s loud, messy, and thrilling in the way that only truly reactive multiplayer games can be. And beneath that chaos is a tightly constructed foundation that makes the madness sing.
At its heart, Wildgate is a social experience. Each match drops you and three teammates into a dangerous sector of space as a crew of space pirates piloting a shared ship. Cooperation isn’t just encouraged: it’s required.
Surviving enemy crews, anomalies, and cosmic hazards takes actual coordination. It’s not enough to be good with a gun; you need to trust your team to hold their roles: piloting, repairing, defending, boarding, stealing. That constant churn of responsibilities is what keeps the game alive.
Without it, Wildgate can feel overwhelming. Playing solo or with randoms is possible, but it strips away the best part of the experience. When you’re in sync with a squad, even a messy loss turns into a highlight reel. It’s the kind of game where one round is a silent heist and the next is full-on ship-to-ship war with boarding parties flying through airlocks and loot being yanked mid-fight. That unpredictability, grounded in team cohesion, is what makes Wildgate click.
Wildgate can feel overwhelming at first, but it’s also extremely rewarding.
One of Wildgate’s quieter strengths is just how deep the customization options go. Prospectors aren’t just visual skin. They come with unique loadouts, passive perks, and signature abilities that change how you approach every match. The same goes for weapons and gear. From entropy cannons to stealth-based tools and aggressive boarding kits, there’s a ton of room to experiment.
It’s the kind of system that feels tailor-made for a competitive meta to take shape over time. Certain prospectors will rise to the top. Specific loadouts will become favored for particular ship types or team comps. That’s inevitable. But what’s impressive is how fun the entire kit feels, even outside of the “optimal” setups. Nothing feels like filler.
Every tool has a place, and part of the game’s joy is discovering weird builds or chaotic combos that just work. Whether you’re min-maxing your gear or just vibing with a favorite prospector’s style, Wildgate gives you room to own your playstyle without boxing you into a single role. It’s competitive-minded without being exclusionary, and that’s a tough balance to strike.
There’s a lot to learn. Wildgate tosses a surprising number of mechanics at players from the jump—multiple ship types, gear loadouts, boarding tactics, PvE objectives, anomaly events, and more. It’s layered and ambitious in ways that can initially feel intimidating. That first hour or two might be spent wondering how to contribute or when to push. It’s the price of ambition.
But stick with it, and those layers start to fall into place. The systems begin to support each other. You learn when to pick a fight, when to disengage, and how to manage the chaos without losing momentum. Wildgate doesn’t simplify to accommodate new players; it lets you grow into its complexity. And once that curve is climbed, the game opens up in a big way.
Dreamhaven’s approach to systems is what makes Wildgate’s chaos feel intentional.
Crew coordination becomes second nature. You start mapping out tactics on the fly, making clutch plays with the tools you’ve learned instead of stumbling through them. What felt frantic in the beginning becomes an organized dance of risk, reward, and just enough nonsense to keep things fun.
There’s a reason Wildgate feels confident even when it’s throwing so much at you. The developers at Moonshot know what they’re doing. You can feel the Blizzard and Riot DNA here—not just in polish, but in pacing, balance, and clarity of vision. Every player’s role feels impactful. No one’s left wondering if they’re contributing. Whether you’re boarding a rival ship or holding the line back home, there’s a sense that you matter.
The blend of first-person action, ship combat, and evolving mission goals could’ve easily come off as a gimmick. Instead, it’s stitched together with smart design choices and a clear focus on what the game wants to be. It’s not just chaos for chaos’s sake—it’s controlled disorder built to highlight player skill and teamwork.
Even small details, such as match flow, respawn timers, and environmental hazards, are carefully tuned to demonstrate the level of thought that went into the structure. This isn’t a game of fumbling for identity. It knows exactly what it wants to be.
That clarity extends beyond launch. Wildgate arrives with a live-service plan that’s refreshingly player-focused. Bi-weekly updates bring new anomalies, ship upgrades, hazards, and loot opportunities. Seasonal content drops will introduce new prospectors, gear, cosmetics, and even narrative arcs that push the story deeper into the Reach. There’s an actual sense of worldbuilding planned, not just balance patches and skins.
Wildgate isn’t trying to be the next anything; it’s building something new.
The team is already planning custom lobbies, ranked play, and new social tools. There’s an Adventure Pass system that avoids typical FOMO traps and supports long-term engagement. And more importantly, the developers are actively listening. The game’s open beta already resulted in balance tweaks, UI improvements, and systems adjustments—all before launch. That kind of responsiveness is a good sign for what’s to come.
Wildgate isn’t trying to be the next anything. It’s carving out space in a growing field of cooperative, extraction-style shooters with a very specific energy: chaotic, team-driven, and confident in its systems. It doesn’t shy away from being complicated. It doesn’t apologize for its learning curve. But it rewards players who engage with it, especially those who bring a crew along for the ride.
Built for friends and tuned for competition, Wildgate is messy in the best way: smart, surprising, and bursting with room to grow. Some parts will frustrate. Systems that could be tuned better. Onboarding might be too steep for casual players. But none of that overshadows what works. And what works here works well.
Wildgate is the kind of chaos that only comes from tight design. It’s messy in all the right ways, and if you’ve got the crew, the headset, and the time to learn its rhythm, there’s nothing quite like it.