Divergence: Year Zero – it was only a Matter of Time

Divergence: Year Zero – it was only a Matter of Time is a post-apocalyptic action role-playing game set in a harsh survival environment, featuring massively multiplayer gameplay with RPG elements. Developed by Stained Glass Llama, the game offers a third-person perspective and serves as a prequel to the developer’s earlier MMO, leveraging shared technology for development across both titles, and was released for Windows in October 2016.

Divergence: Year Zero – it was only a Matter of Time: Review

Introduction

In the turbulent landscape of 2016’s Early Access ecosystem, Divergence: Year Zero emerged as both a bold experiment and a cautionary tale. From the indie studio Stained Glass Llama, this post-apocalyptic survival MMO positioned itself as a prequel to their ambitious Divergence: Online, promising a “true-MMORPG” experience on a single server with unprecedented player freedom. Yet its launch was fraught with controversy, as players questioned the studio’s decision to pursue a new project while their flagship title remained unfinished. This review dissects Year Zero not merely as a game, but as a microcosm of indie survival: a vessel for audacious design, economic desperation, and the fragile dream of building a virtual world. Its legacy is one of unrealized potential, a monument to the perils of ambition in an industry where survival hinges on more than just zombies.

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Development History & Context

The Studio’s Vision

Stained Glass Llama, a two-person operation helmed by Ethan, conceived Divergence: Year Zero as both a lifeline and a narrative prequel. Their grand vision was a seamless, player-driven universe where every crafted item could have unique stats, housing could be built anywhere, and global events shaped by player actions. This ambition was rooted in their earlier success: Divergence: Online had topped Steam Greenlight in 2014, positioning itself as a spiritual successor to Star Wars Galaxies. Yet by 2016, the studio faced existential crisis. As documented in developer statements, Divergence: Online’s niche sci-fi sandbox failed to generate sustainable revenue against AAA competitors. Ethan’s “brutally honest” admission—that sales were insufficient to fund full-time development—forced a pivot.

Technological Constraints & The Early Access Bet

Built on a proprietary engine shared with Divergence: Online, Year Zero claimed “virtually unhackable” networking and voxel-based construction systems. However, these ambitions collided with harsh realities. The Early Access model, which had worked for Divergence: Online in 2015, became a double-edged sword. The studio leveraged its existing infrastructure to rapidly prototype a survival game, borrowing assets and mechanics to reduce development time. Yet their resources were stretched thin: two developers managing two concurrent games meant updates slowed from monthly to biannual. The promised six-month Early Access cycle became a perpetual limbo, with the last official update coming in 2016. Valve’s policies requiring Early Access titles to have “sufficient funds to finish” were circumvented, exposing the ethical gray areas of the model.

The Gaming Landscape (2016)

Year Zero launched into a saturated survival market dominated by ARK: Survival Evolved and DayZ. Its modern setting—post-Californian earthquake collapse—felt derivative amidst a glut of zombie games. Yet it differentiated itself with its “universal server” promise and deep crafting philosophy. However, the studio’s move to capitalize on the survival genre while their sci-fi MMO languished sparked backlash. As one Steam user lamented: “This sounds like a cash grab… survival games are ‘ten to a penny’ at the moment.” The industry’s shift toward live-service models made Year Zero a victim of timing: it arrived too late to ride the survival wave and too early to leverage modern monetization.

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Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

The Collapse of Civilization

Year Zero’s narrative is delivered through environmental storytelling and sparse lore. The premise is a cataclysmic convergence: the emergence of Homo-Solitus (a new human subspecies) triggers the rupture of the San Andreas Fault, while a bioweapon designed to exterminate Solitus leaks into the ecosystem. The result is a tripartite apocalypse: geological destruction, viral pandemic, and societal collapse. Survivors are walled off behind “The Western Wall,” cut from the world by a communications blackout. This setup masterfully frames survival as both physical and psychological—players aren’t just fighting zombies, but the void left by vanished authority.

Characters as Archetypes

With no traditional NPCs, Year Zero’s “characters” are its player archetypes. Bandits, raiders, doctors, and architects emerge organically, their roles defined by scarcity. The virus-infected (“Hunters”) serve as both antagonists and a tragic metaphor: once human, now driven by primal rage. This absence of NPCs is a narrative strength—it forces players to create their own stories—but also a weakness, as human interaction lacks depth beyond PvP dynamics. One Steam forum user summarized the experience: “You survive the wolves, the bears, the elements… only to be robbed by bandits or eaten by cannibals.”

Thematic Resonance: Despair and Resilience

The game’s title—Year Zero—evokes rebirth from annihilation, a theme mirrored in its crafting systems. Players scavenge resources to rebuild civilization, from wooden fortifications to oil rigs, only to have them destroyed by rivals or infected hordes. This cycle echoes the futility of human resilience against nature and entropy. The “Road Warrior” aesthetic—welding barbed wire to vehicles—underscores a bleak but defiant humor: “Welcome to hell,” the store page quips. Yet the narrative’s greatest failure is its missed opportunity to explore the Solitus gene subplot—a sci-fi thread abandoned in favor of pure survival, diluting the universe’s lore.

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Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

Core Loops: Crafting vs. Combat

Year Zero’s gameplay revolves around two pillars: meticulous crafting and emergent PvP. The crafting system is its triumph: resources (e.g., steel from junk, wood from trees) determine an item’s durability, damage, or weight. A player could theoretically craft infinitely unique guns, each with distinct attributes based on material quality. This depth is contrasted with combat, which leans into realism but suffers from janky animations. Guns suffer from bullet drop, melee swings feel weighty, and infected AI ranges from predictable to erratic. The result is a tense, unforgiving experience where a poorly crafted axe can be as deadly as a factory-made rifle.

Progression: Skill-Based Freedom

Character progression is skill-based, with players allocating points into combat (marksman), support (doctor), or utility (architect) professions. This flexibility encourages hybrid builds but risks dilution—a “jack of all trades” may outshine specialists. The lack of vertical progression (no levels) emphasizes player skill over gear, tying into the game’s “virtually unhackable” ethos. Yet this also creates a high barrier to entry: new players face veterans with optimized gear, leading to frustration. As one Steam user noted: “There’s zero direction… you’re just thrown into the wilderness.”

Innovative Systems: Building and Automation

Three systems distinguish Year Zero:
1. Voxel Construction: Players build anywhere using materials like wood or “Ferrocrete” (a premium voxel substance). Fortresses can be erected in seconds, though physics glitches make structures fragile.
2. Automated Harvesting: Oil rigs and crop planters enable passive resource gathering, turning base-building into a logistical puzzle.
3. Vehicle Customization: Any item can be welded to vehicles—spikes for defense, fuel tanks for mobility—but adding weight affects handling, adding strategic depth.

Flaws: The Early Access Burden

These systems were undermined by Early Access jank: desync during raids, physics bugs collapsing structures, and a UI that obscured vital information. The promised “spatial voice chat” never materialized, and quests were a placeholder system. Most damningly, the studio’s inability to balance PvP resulted in large clans dominating servers, crushing solo players. The game’s identity crisis—half survival sim, half shooter—left it without a clear niche.

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World-Building, Art & Sound

Setting: A Realized Apocalypse

The world is a meticulously detailed Pacific Northwest ravaged by quakes and floods. Forests give way to deserts, and ruined cities like Seattle become PvP battlegrounds. Environmental storytelling excels: abandoned gas stations hold loot, while graffiti hints at pre-collapse panic. The “Western Wall”—a physical barrier—symbolizes isolation, with no respawning points beyond it creating genuine stakes. Yet the world’s scale feels empty; promised “counties” beyond the starting zone remained locked for years, limiting exploration.

Art Direction: Functional but Unpolished

Year Zero’s art is utilitarian. Textures are repetitive, and character models are stiff, with animations that range from “functional” to “absurd” (e.g., floating corpses). Vehicles salvage parts from real-world models (tractors, SUVs), grounding the apocalypse in recognizable decay. However, the visual palette of browns and grays becomes monotonous, and lighting fails to evoke atmosphere. One bright spot: the infected design—rotting flesh with glowing eyes—effectively blends horror with tragedy.

Sound Design: Atmosphere Over Fidelity

Sound is where Year Zero shines. The crunch of gravel underfoot, the distant groan of infected, and the roar of a revving engine immerse players. Gunshots are deafeningly loud, encouraging stealth. However, environmental variety is lacking—forests and deserts share similar ambient loops. The absence of a dynamic score underscores the theme of desolation but risks monotony during long sessions.

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Reception & Legacy

Launch Controversy and Mixed Reviews

Upon release, Year Zero received a mixed reception (64% positive on Steam, 14 reviews). Players lauded its crafting depth and server stability but criticized the unfinished state and PvP imbalance. The biggest controversy was the studio’s decision to launch a new game while Divergence: Online remained in Early Access. As one user fumed: “Why would we buy this when your first game isn’t out?” The studio’s response—that survival games would fund their sci-fi dream—was viewed with skepticism. Positive reviews focused on emergent stories: “I built a fortress, farmed oil, and fought a clan for days… unforgettable.” Negative reviews cited bugs and lack of content: “It’s just DayZ with worse graphics.”

Evolution and Discontinuation

By 2018, development stalled. Ethan’s final update in 2017 admitted defeat: “Returns have not been sufficient to warrant full development.” The game was rebranded as an “exploration game” with NPCs removed and prices slashed. Servers remained online, but Year Zero became a ghost town—a digital monument to unrealized potential. Its legacy, however, endures in indie circles as a case study in Early Access ethics.

Influence on the Industry

Year Zero’s influence is cautionary. It highlighted the risks of genre-hopping in a volatile market and the strain on small studios pursuing AAA ambitions. Itsvoxel-building and deep crafting mechanics foreshadowed titles like Valheim, though its PvP focus set it apart from the cooperative survival trend. Most significantly, it exposed the Early Access model’s pitfalls: players funding unfinished games, studios overpromising, and the impossibility of “saving” a project through monetization.

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Conclusion

Divergence: Year Zero is a game defined by its contradictions: a triumph of systems marred by execution, a bold vision crushed by circumstance. Its crafting, building, and player-driven world remain testaments to Stained Glass Llama’s ambition, yet its unfinished state and PvP imbalances make it a niche curiosity. The studio’s failure to deliver on promises, coupled with the controversial launch of a second Early Access title, cemented its reputation as a cautionary tale.

In the pantheon of survival games, Year Zero is less a classic and more a historical artifact—a reminder that even the most innovative ideas can falter without resources or timing. Its legacy isn’t in what it achieved, but in what it risked: a complete virtual world built by two hands, torn apart by market forces. For the few who still wander its servers, it remains a haunting echo of what might have been. As the studio’s final note read: “We’d like to get all our friends back together to play a much more polished game.” It was only a matter of time—but time ran out.

Verdict: A fascinating, flawed experiment in indie MMO design. Its ambition and systems deserve admiration, but its incomplete execution and controversial launch make it a relic rather than a recommendation. For historians, it’s a vital case study; for players, a cautionary footnote in survival’s history.