Summary
Bethesda’s reputation may rest on sprawling RPGs andpost-apocalyptic open worlds, but the publisher has also quietly become one of the most consistent backers of top-tier shooters. From over-the-top boomerang chaos to high-speed demon slaying, its portfolio includes some of the most inventive, brutal, and stylish first-person games of the last two decades.
These are the shooters that stood out, aged well, and in some cases, redefined what FPS games could be.
Released in 2011,Ragewas id Software’s return tothe FPS stageafterDoom 3, and technically, it was ahead of its time. Powered by the id Tech 5 engine, it stunned players with megatextures that made every rock, rusted signpost, and canyon wall look eerily realistic for the era. For a game that opened with a guy crawling out of a cryo-pod in a ruined desert, it ran absurdly smoothly, even on consoles.
ButRagewasn’t just a pretty wasteland. It blended corridor gunfights withMad Max-style vehicular combat, letting players upgrade and armor their dune buggies while mowing down bandits with miniguns. Weapons felt punchy, especially the wingstick—a razor-edged boomerang that somehow became the unofficial mascot of the game. The AI, while not revolutionary, was unusually mobile, with enemies diving over cover and rushing in with flanking tactics that showed some serious scripting chops.
It fell short on narrative impact, and the abrupt ending remains one of the most complained-about conclusions in shooter history, but for its gameplay loops and presentation,Ragestill earns its cult status.
Wolfenstein 2: The New Colossusopens with B.J. Blazkowicz in a wheelchair, gunning down Nazis aboard a burning U-boat while his legs barely work. That alone says everything about its tone—loud, fearless, absurdly violent, and politically unflinching.
MachineGamesdoubled down on the pulp energy fromThe New Order, tossing players into an alternate-history 1960s America under full Nazi control. From the Ku Klux Klan patrolling small-town Roswell to the flaming ruins of Manhattan, every level felt like a warped, satirical take on Americana. But beneath all the blood and absurdity,The New Colossushad real emotional weight. B.J. grappling with his mortality, memories of childhood abuse, and the burden of resistance gave the game a rawness that caught a lot of players off guard.
Gunplay was deliberately intense, with dual-wielding returning and weapons like the Dieselkraftwerk turning entire squads into flaming piles of regret. Yet the pacing was often divisive—cutscenes ran long, stealth was half-baked, andsome boss fightsleaned into bullet sponge territory. Still, it delivered a narrative-heavy shooter like few others, unafraid to be weird, bold, and angry.
WhereRageplayed things gritty and grounded,Rage 2grabbed a can of Monster Energy and said, “Let’s go full chaos.” Avalanche Studios co-developed it alongside id Software, and it showed. Driving felt smoother, explosions were bigger, and every enemy encounter looked like it belonged in a comic book scrawled in marker and gunpowder.
Combat was undeniably fun. Nanotrite powers let players slam into the ground with devastating force, deflect bullets, and hurl enemies like ragdolls. Combined with id’s signature weapon feel—especially the shotgun—every shootout was fluid and kinetic, bordering on superheroic.
ButRage 2had one big problem: it didn’t know what to do between the fights. The open world was huge but oddly empty, full of copy-pasted outposts and unremarkable side objectives. The story, which should’ve given players a reason to care about Walker or the Authority, barely got going before it ended.
Still, when it was firing on all cylinders, it felt likeDoomwith an open-world twist—and that’s not a bad thing to be, even if the game forgot to breathe between shootouts.
The surprise hit of 2014,Wolfenstein: The New Orderresurrected a long-dormant franchise by doing something unexpected: making B.J. Blazkowicz human. Not just a one-liner machine, but a man carrying years of trauma behind tired eyes, fighting in a world where the Allies lost.
The alternate-history setting was grim but fascinating, where a Nazi moon base was somehow less absurd than the idea of Jimi Hendrix joining the resistance.Stealth mechanicswere simple but rewarding, with players able to knife commanders before they raised alarms. When things got loud, they gotloud—especially when dual-wielding auto-shotguns or tearing through armored enemies with the Laserkraftwerk.
The pacing stood out. Players jumped between timelines, infiltrated prisons, mounted raids in massive mechs, and dealt with choices that changed parts of the narrative. It wasn’t perfect—stealth sometimes felt like an afterthought, and the checkpointing could be brutal—but it reinventedWolfensteinfor a new generation without losing its roots.
CallingPreya shooter feels weird. It’s technically true—there’s a shotgun, a pistol, and the GLOO Cannon, which shoots foam that freezes enemies and doubles as a climbing tool—butPreyplays more like a psychological puzzle box in zero-G.
Set aboard the Talos I space station,Preyputs players in the shoes of Morgan Yu, trapped in a facility crawling with shadowy mimics and mind-warping aliens called Typhon. What made it special wasn’t just the combat, but the freedom. Players could explore every inch of Talos I, finding alternate paths using powers, environmental manipulation, or just smart object placement. Want to stack boxes to crawl through a tiny vent that skips half a level? Go for it. Want to glue a path up a wall, then shoot aliens mid-jump? That works too.
Narratively, it was all about identity and consequence. Choices had weight, NPCs remembered actions, and the deeper players dug into Talos I’s history, the more disturbing it became. It borrowed the immersive sim DNA ofSystem ShockandDeus Ex, and while its sales were underwhelming,Preyslowly built a reputation as one of Arkane’s most ambitious and brilliant projects.
The 2016 reboot ofDoomhad no right being as good as it was. After a troubled development cycle that originally pitched the game as a gritty,Call of Duty-style war shooter, id Software pivoted hard and made something loud, fast, and gloriously violent.
ThisDoomreimagined the Slayer as a silent force of nature. The narrative, while present, knew when to shut up—usually because the player already smashed the monitor explaining things. The real star was the combat loop: kill demons with style to regain health, use chainsaw fuel for ammo, and mix weapons mid-fight like a death metal jazz solo. No cover mechanics, no regenerating health, no downtime.
The level design echoed classicDoom, full of secrets, verticality, and arena layouts that pushed players to stay mobile. Even the soundtrack, composed by Mick Gordon, became iconic, with chainsaw riffs and distorted bass drops perfectly syncing with every kill.
It didn’t just reboot a franchise—it reminded theentire FPS genrewhat it meant to be aggressive, agile, and unrelenting.
WhereDoom2016 let players unleash chaos,Doom Eternalasked them tomasterit. Every demon, weapon, and resource mechanic was now part of a violent ballet that punished hesitation and rewarded precision. Players didn’t just shoot things—theysolved combat puzzlesat 200 beats per minute.
Resource management was key. Need ammo? Chainsaw. Need armor? Use the flame belch. Need health? Glory kill. This tight loop made players juggle constant decisions mid-fight while flying through arenas with monkey-bar gymnastics and dashes that felt lifted from a platformer.
The storytelling, surprisingly, went full lore-heavy. The Slayer became a mythic figure in a cosmic war, and cutscenes showed off everything from ancient betrayals to mecha-slaying battles with kaiju-sized demons. Not everyone vibed with the heavier story tone, but it gave the franchise a kind ofLord of the Rings by way of Slayer albumsenergy that somehow worked.
