The Preved is as alluring as it is mysterious. Tracking down this prize is a danciful act that leaves many novices alone on the dance floor, bereft of the partner with which they dallied with so listlessly. Unlike the common strumpet, marked by availability, abundance, and eagerness to please--the Preved demurely reserves itself for the valient and patient few. Artyom will only first catch sight of this wondrous weapon at the merchant on the level Depot, world weary and bleary eyed.

The Preved lies on a virginal bed of light. Even in repose it easily dwarfs a nearby plebeian AK-74

The Preved first tests Artyom's fealty by affronting him with shear cost. At a price of 230 Military Grade Rounds the Preved will only be available on the proviso that the player has not been wanton with weapons of inferior quality, dallying far from the path of virtue with his wallet. If this is the disgusting, reprehensible situation you find yourself in, Artyom will be unable to acquire this finely minted armement. Assuming you pass this trial, owing to your exceptional thrift, prudence, and fidelity to this mistress from the outset of your journey, you will be rewarded with the honour of HOLDING the Preved. Yes, rain soaked, downtrodden, sullied Artyom, you are not yet worthy to use this rifle in combat.

Allow me to unravel this cruelty, I percieve how your chin droops and your mind searches for consolation. The answer is twofold. The first I will divulge but delve into in the following section: The Preved does not consume the garbage ammunition you feed to your second rate, working class weapons. As the Lord says, it is not what goes into you that defiles you, but what comes out. However, the Lord was not contemporary with firearms, and certainly not ones of this pedigree. The Preved is such stuff as biblical myths are made of, rebuffing the Lord's word: she will none of your scummy Metro crafted bullets. You will delight in hearing that from this madness of misfortune comes catharsis, riding in on its steed to sate your rage with reason. The potency of this rifle owes to her fickle obsession with the magnificent 12.7x108mm round.

Yes inexperienced and unfit player, this weapon packs a larger wallop than your ridiculous looking, arc welded, backyard gooly quadruple barrel duplet. Aren't you thankful that she recoils from the mere thought of firing off the kind of bullet that would enter the chamber of a base and lowly weapon such as the Valve? You are.


Incidentally, before you have even entered the Depot there is a dumpster to the right of the door with a B*stard gun. Quickly swap it with the Valve so that the Preved does not catch wind of your pathetic taste for rifles of insignificant calibre.

In light of all this, it will come as no surprise that the backwater hucksters selling scrap in the Depot possess no such round, and thus you will be deprived of ammunition for your new acquisition, quivering in your hot little hands. The second reason is that even if you have been fortunate enough to stumble over one or two 12.7x108mm rounds in your torpid, lost, ridiculous wanderings on either The Crossing or The Bridge you are soon to be confronted with dozens of Communists in a series of stealth sections in which combat is hardly a viable option. Because the Preved has some self respect and refuses to be muzzled by a silencer like the other more submissive weapons, you can forget any hopes you had about blowing away Reds, because it AINT gonna happen. The Preved must be borne tenderly on your back before she gives you opportunity to nestle her stock in your shoulder, wrestle her bolt in the crook between your thumb and index, and cradle her barrel in the saddle of your gentle hand. While you're at it, relieve these dead gentlemen of their 12.7x108mm rounds and continue on your journey

The gentleman in the first stealth segment attending the tower to the right.
The gentleman idling in the room with the radio in the third stealth segment
The gentleman occupying the train to the left in the fourth stealth segment
The portly gentleman near the foot of the stairs in the fourth stealth segment

If circumstance has smiled on you, buy the Preved, dress her up with every accessory in the store, and lovingly carry her through hell into the light, and like Orpheus--never look back. You have left behind everything of value: you hold the world on your back. I promise that there's bigger game waiting for you out on the surface, where bashful, shameful silence has no place: only loud, boisterous weapon reports echoing off the tall streets of The Dead City.

Learning the art of humility, to care for your new companion with respectful servility

Artyom gives his darling room to breathe

If all has augured well in the preceding section Artyom will alight upon the Dead City with a full magazine of 12.7x108mm rounds and an itchy trigger finger. By now the weight of the Preved, its husky build, its prewar charm, and its cadaver creating attachments will have won you over absolutely. In anticipation of The Red Square the function of the Dead City is to stockpile ammo for the object of this intensive guide. Thankfully, one such individual has gone about this task with due-diligence, leaving behind crates of ammo and voice recordings of questionable mettle all over the level. As Artyom progresses through these dialogues we are treated to the qualms of a lesser mind, beset by nightmares, jumping at shadows. As beings of infinitely superior composure, this mental picture induces a sense of liminality in the player, acting as a rite of passage into mature, morally self assured, courageous, and confident action.

two such locations


notice the difference between the behemoth 12.7x108mm rounds and their puny counterparts.

Yet this is mere pretext for the discovery that you are about to be made aware of.
There is not one Preved, but two.

Surviving the nuclear blast, there lies a sleeping person holding a Preved tight to their chest.
With no modicum of delicatess, slip out the Preved from their nocturnal grip, parting with whatever derisible alternate firearm you were carrying. Dispose of the evidence.



Plying your brow with sweat, stinking sweet drops of success kneaded into heady anticipation, drive your wobbling knees towards the level's end. Two Preveds in hands--our combative, material and soulful needs nourished, we progress to the Red Square.


note: if you are not playing Ranger Hardcore you are weak and can never experience 100% Preved Power.

Need I say more on this guide?
Can words express the pleasure of holding sweet lifeblood in its virile cradle?
The ineffable joy unique to those that live the monkish way of the Preved know a prudence of power, a restraint in killing that is doubly pleasureful due to the force that surfaces in its occurrence.

The inconsequential playstyle of other weapons is ignoble and you should shun it. Their clamorous rattling after the eloquent dominance expressed in one shout from the Preved's muzzle is mere whispering: nothing is more derisible than weakness.

Now walk gleefully into the trap sprung on you, for Pavel's snipers will be like so many meatballs impeding the swing of a golf club. And Pavel more than all, the prize--he shall be rich and ripe between the sights. Hold him between them. Feel the sovereign sense of self mastery, and know that now you are that which makes the world turn under your feet. Everything was pretext for the Hero's final ascent, he who shucks away pretense and simply is. Presently, and calmly, handle your weapon. You have mastered. it


Remember how tenderly the Preved approached you?
How full of pretense was your purchase, and how quickly were you chastened by unfavourable circumstance. How many streets did you walk in the rain, picking through a mile of mud to gleen one shining round, knowing that each one would be ripped from the chamber as you worked the bolt. In one blinding scream you would pull it back grinding with the force of a locomotive braking into the station, but your hand was finding movements it had never known it had known, that it had preened back a hundred rooms to find the bullet it now pulls out with the sweet noise of the trigger: never did a care fly freer than the casing escaping the magazine. And that silky friction, front main locking lugs recess, everything clockwork and beautiful and did you see anything so maddeningly tender as the grazing of mechanisms, your hand plucking out notes, rythmic, torsional, and your arm coiled, eye steady. You were so calm, but you were shaking and when you finally did it... your fat fleshy fingers moving, powerful pistons performing miracles and the movements were beautiful.


We know the name Preved, but we do not know the name for when it takes a life.


This is really a love story for Pavel. I wish it could have ended better buddy.