No pre-release reviews for The Division? No problem.

The Division will not be getting any pre-release reviews, it says here, because “it’s impossible for [Ubisoft] to populate the servers in a way that would adequately replicate playing The Division on launch day”. As such, games critics, bloggers, vloggers, YouTubers, and the rest of the scum won’t be able to give their earth-shatteringly important views until, probably, the day after.

Which is obviously fine. Publishers are under no obligation, at all, to send out games, and if Ubisoft wants to have everyone – including us – play it on the day of release then that’s on them. If Ubisoft decided to throw every copy of The Division into a volcano while Yves watches remotely, simultaneously pissing on a copy of Edge and kissing a PewDiePie poster, that is also fine.

Of course, some Video Game People do not see it this way. They cannot countenance the idea that Ubisoft may actually have a legitimate reason for its decision. It is a red flag, we’re told, for the quality of the game. It suggests that it is unfinished, in some way, that there is something to hide, some monstrous, consumer-defiling sting in the tail.

Which, given the publisher in question, is more than fair. Ubisoft’s reputation has taken a hammering in recent years, and rightly so: there was a time when the publisher probably thought QA was a Sidney Lumet film. But what’s the alternative? A review event? I thought you hated review events? I hate review events. They’re s***e. Never been to one? Here’s what happens:

9:30: Arrive at swanky location, which is almost always in London and almost always far more elaborate than it needs to be.

9:30 – 13:00: Look around the room, disgusted, at the various configurations, interpretations, of the standard Video Game Critic dress code. There will be more checks here than airport security. Inform anyone who comes up to you that you’re likely to explode with a white-hot rage at any moment, but be polite and courteous to catering staff: they hate it just as much as you do, and they’re invariably far better dressed than the rest of the room.

13:00 – 16:00: Play a Video Game in non real-world conditions while a developer – or any number of developers – walk anxiously behind you, alternating between relief and The Nameless Dread, their eyes pleading, their palms sweaty; when will it end, they whisper later, at the bar, and you look them dead in the eye and say ‘never’. It’s alright, 6/10.

16:00: Go home/to room.

Next Day: Start again.

So, review events aren’t ideal. And besides, for this/em> game, from this publisher, do you want to trust non-real world reviewing environments? No. So the only other option, really, is to have reviewers check out the retail release on real-world servers. (That, or they have a pre-release server and get hundreds of people to populate it. And who will these people be? Games journalists. Exactly.)

Now, I know what you’re thinking. ‘St-eeeve, but what about performance? How do we know the game won’t be broken? Or that characters will have faces? How will we possibly know all these things?’

Well, that does seem like a good point. While we’re at it, though, here’s another: you don’t have to buy games on the day they come out. In fact, there’s strong evidence to suggest that if you do that, you are an idiot. Nobody is making you buy The Division day one. Yves isn’t going to shimmy up a drainpipe into your bedroom at 00:01 on Tuesday and stick a Glock in your mouth. I mean, he might, but I’m not sure that’s got anything to do with The Division. Either way, the only person forcing you to buy The Division, breathlessly and passionately, is you.

So if you’re that worried, don’t buy it. Don’t be one of those assholes who pre-orders video games either, because digital pre-orders are f***ing stupid. Just give it a day. One whole day. One perfect day, on Gordon Street, where you can flick on Twitch or YouTube, and see how it’s going. Maybe not even a whole day: maybe just a morning! And then you can decide whether or not to go and buy The Division. Does it mean the game won’t fall over on day two or four or eight? No. But if you’re worried about performance, then give yourself as much time as you think you need to get comfortable with what it’s offering. Then buy it, or don’t. The only people who benefit from this crazed lust for day one releases is the publisher. The Division simply isn’t that important. It’s not food. It’s not insulin. It’s a seemingly fun not-so-secret numbers game. It’ll keep.

Unless the world explodes. In which case, well, The Division isn’t going to save you anyway. Sorry.