Lieutenant Viktor Sokolov pressed his eye to the periscope of the T-34. Through the green-tinted glass, the Ukrainian steppe looked like a drowned world. Three days of rain had turned the black soil into a sticky, breathing creature that swallowed tank treads whole.

In Graviteam Tactics: Mius-Front , you don’t win. You survive. And sometimes, as the grey autumn sky began to drizzle again, Viktor realized that survival was just a slower way to lose.

“Why?” asked the gunner, Kostya. “There’s no—"

“Abandon!” he yelled, shoving the turret hatch open.

The first round landed fifty meters short, splashing mud. The second hit Petyr’s driver’s hatch.

He dropped into the mud, pistol in hand. The air smelled of wet earth, cordite, and his own sour sweat. Two of his men were already down, their bodies sinking into the black soup. Kostya crawled behind a wrecked cart, firing his submachine gun at shadows.