Having recently finished Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots I feel safe to say that it is easily one of the greatest videogames I have ever had the pleasure to play. As a consummate Metal Gear fan I was prepared for lengthy cut scenes, codec conversations that threatened the half-an-hour mark, and plot threads more tangled than a fisherman’s knot. In fact, I was more than prepared for these things. I wanted them, and I certainly got what I wanted.

Despite nearly falling asleep at the end, and the layers upon layers of exposition that sometimes felt more endurance test than game, I fell in love. The devotion to character, imagination and setting is absolute, and inarguably as good as anything Kojima has offered before. The Beauty and The Beast unit typify the idiosyncratic nature of the auteur’s vision when it comes to crafting memorable set-pieces.

The non-interactive chunks of MGS’s playtime have long been the cause of a splintering of gamers into love-it or hate-it camps. The cutscenes found in MGS4 are unashamedly lengthy, and while some devote whole sections to narrative and conversation (which is still entertaining in its own right) it’s the expertly composed actions sequences that truly electrify. Even the word ‘expertly’ fails to convey just how well constructed these visual spectacles are. Surpassing even Spielberg’s on-screen creations Kojima’s choreography feels like a blend of Bruckheimer and Woo-Ping Yuen – with a cheeky pinch of Lynch thrown in for good measure.

There’s a new fluidity to gameplay, providing the player with a Metal Gear experience that is less rigid in its reliance on stealth. And it’s certainly not coy in its sharing of gameplay elements with other triple-A titles. However, this is turning into a mini-review, and I don’t intend to do a review any time soon (I’d have given it a nine, if you’re wondering). What I would like to talk about is one very specific section, one of the game’s five acts that’s up there with the finest moments I’ve ever enjoyed in my life as a hardcore gamer.

Read on to find out more, but beware. There are epic spoilers ahead.

Sometimes something happens in a game that I just can’t get over – something so well conceived and executed that it warrants talking about on its accomplishments alone. It could be my first encounter with a colossus in Fumito Ueda’s masterpiece Shadow of the Colossus, Andrew Ryan’s memorable monologue in Bioshock, the end of Half Life 2: Episode 2 (still holding back tears), or emerging from dark, dank dungeons into the radiant, green fields of Hyrule or Cyrodil in Zelda: A Link to the Past and Oblivion respectively. One section half-way through Guns of the Patriots was one of these moments. It fortified the game as one of my all-time favourites, and the moment itself up there with the likes of my first battle against Gray Fox.

And it is this: The return to Shadow Moses. Nine years on from Snake’s first encounter with Liquid Snake – both in-game and since Metal Gear Solid was released in 1999 – Snake is ordered back to Shadow Moses to prevent Liquid Ocelot taking control of Metal Gear Rex and utilising its rail gun to bring about his new world order. Returning to the site that spawned many a Metal Gear fan (myself included) is an accomplishment in narrative engineering both convincing and artistic.

It’s a moment in modern gaming that speaks volumes about the medium’s power to affect the player in new and diverse ways. It’s not about a lack of imagination, or a deficiency in new ideas. Kojima spoke openly of his desire for Guns of the Patriots to resonate with player’s previous Metal Gear experiences, and returning to Shadow Moses perfectly encapsulates this design principle. It intentionally stirs the memories many of us hold dear – staying up until the early hours of the morning to battle Vulcan Raven, outwit Psycho Mantis, or sneakily snuff Sniper Wolf with the Nikita – and consolidates Snake’s presence as a real person; a true hero with an intricate past.

It’s an occurrence that has never been seen before in a videogame series, or at least, has never been attempted in quite the same way. Chrono Trigger showed glimpses of the concept in its time travelling narrative, giving players access to sever eras of the game world’s history and allowing past actions to affect future events, and World of Warcraft introduced the ‘Caverns of Time’; portals to different key historical periods and events in Warcraft including events that actually took place in Warcraft 3. The same location showed up multiple times across a series spanning six games in Konami’s other big franchise, Silent Hill. However, in each iteration the town felt more a re-imagining than a revisiting. Only MGS4 has returned to a pivotal location in its history some games down the line. The length of the series combined with the new technology of the PS3 made 2008 the perfect time to do it.

Kojima is well aware of how gamers’ experienced the first Metal Gear Solid, and his ability to echo these experiences is a masterstroke in atmosphere and story. It brings a whole new meaning to the term ‘environmental narrative’. He may not wring story from every rusting rivet and pouring pipe in the same way as Bioshock, but the old saying, ‘if these walls could talk’ has never felt more meaningful than when you stalk through the now empty corridors of the one time nuclear weapons storage facility.

Moving through the snow-blanketed infrastructure of Shadow Moses’ helipad as white cascades all around, it’s hard not to feel the heartstrings pulled this way and that when Aoife Ní Fhearraigh’s melancholy melody swims into the surroundings. The bare hallways are filled with echoes of events past, remembered codec conversations whispering over the delicate atmosphere. Moving through areas is an exercise in memory, as smashed computer consoles and scuffed walls hark back to battles fought long ago. It creates that feeling of a consistent world, a world that has remained despite not having been revisited by you, the player, for over 9 years.

Returning to the genesis of Snake’s battle with Ocelot allows for one narrative to inform the other, linking Snake’s earlier trials endured in the name of honour, duty and principle with his actions in the present day. The whole event culminates in a battle that, while a little rough around the edges, is one of the best the series has ever offered in terms of scale and scope.

It almost feels that Snake’s return is a plot development that could resonate so powerfully only within the borders of an interactive experience. Could a film or a book reach the same levels of connection between the entertainer and entertained? It’s your interactions with Shadow Moses, and indeed, your previous interactions there that make it so significant. Star Wars’ repeated ventures to Tatooine could never feel as poignant. Films are under pressure to take their characters to new places and undergo new experiences, and while games are – to an extent – under the same constraints, they give the player the ability to interact with the same environment in a way that movies can never emulate. Movies cannot offer the audience the chance to be a part of the surroundings, and as such a return to the same setting can never feel as meaningful.

And so that’s that. The return to Shadow Moses made me happier than Laughing Octopus, crazier than Raging Raven, more moved than Crying Wolf, and had me yelling more praise at my TV than even Screaming Mantis could manage. It’s one videogame moment I won’t forget any time soon. There are hundreds of other instances that stand out in the game – Raiden’s return, the first boss battle, THAT ending – but none are as original and nostalgic as the one discussed here.

It’s sad to see Snake go, but his time has come. At least we were given the chance to revel in his past adventures one more time before we had to say goodbye.

 Originally written for Nuclear Geek.com  

“Alone in the Dark is a beautifully crafted single-player adventure game. I don’t think the industry is going to make many more of those.” These were the words of one-time SCE WWS president Phil Harrison, in a recent interview with Eurogamer.net. “I just don’t think consumers want to be playing games that don’t have some kind of network connectivity to them,” he continued, “Or some kind of community embedded in them, or some kind of extension available through downloadable content.” Revising his statement to Kotaku, he made it clear that, “The single-player, disconnected console game is probably in its dotage.”

It’s quite a declaration, to assert the demise of a major element of gaming that has been at its core for many decades. It’s true that videogames are changing, in considerable and diverse directions. Consumers increasingly want network connectivity in one form or another in the titles they play, and its inclusion is becoming ever more ubiquitous with each release. Nonetheless, is it really fair to rule out a stand alone, single player experience altogether?

It’s a bit of an odd statement from Harrison, given his new standing as the new Directeur Général Délégué of Infogrames, a position whose responsibility means shaping the future of Atari, which in turn means ensuring the success of the upcoming Alone In The Dark. It’s peculiar because AITD is one of the more high-concept mainstream videogames seen this year, its innovations arguably set to take the single player experience into exciting new territory in the future.

AITD’s narrative is designed to maintain interest through peaks of drama spread over individual episodes – a design lifted straight from such American dramas as 24 – and the ability to skip a particular challenge or puzzle that’s proving a problem has been made available to the player. It’s a rewriting of the single player construct that already feels it may one day become a kind of standard, and as such it feels wrong for Harrison to dismiss it as the last of a dying breed.

Would AITD really benefit from the kind of connectivity Harrison is so eager to endorse? It’s a question that lends itself to many a game. How would Shadow Of The Colossus’ or Ico’s lonely, pervasive atmospheres be affected if they were to become massively multiplayer? Would Bioshock’s Rapture feel as ominous during a deathmatch? Zelda with leaderboards? Tetris DLC? Some games simply wouldn’t benefit from such embellishments.

Ben Mattes, producer on the upcoming Prince of Persia title, echoes the view that there is still a significant single-player market. “I read [Phil Harrison’s statement], and I don’t totally agree,” he told Eurogamer. “I know where he’s coming from – I certainly see a lot of the industry moving in the direction of more community, more multiplayer, that sort of stuff. But in my opinion, there are things you can do in a carefully crafted single-player game – experiences you can create, emotions you can elicit and magnitudes of engaging the player that you’re not going to reproduce in the uncontrolled environment of multiplayer.”

Sure, games like Mario Kart, Call of Duty and Rock Band thrive on those features that Harrison considers the future, but they’re not essential for a great gaming experience. There’s a seeming disparity between consumer demand for multiplayer and consumer use of multiplayer. Online modes can be a sort of interactive equivalent of DVD special features – the perceived value is many more times important than the practical benefit. Its careless addition (we’re looking at you, Condemned 2 and The Darkness) is somewhat indicative of the industry’s common problem that is prioritising marketing over content.

Harrison’s statement, while perceptive of the industry’s current state, still feels like a little of an oversight. The casual mass market is quickly becoming a predominant part of the industry make-up, but it’s amiss to neglect those players that ask for a more concentrated experience in the form of well controlled and choreographed narratives. It’s a group that Mattes doesn’t see disappearing any time soon. “For some time yet, there’s going to be a market of people who say, ‘You know what, pander to me. Suck me into your world and just make me believe. I don’t want to be distracted by griefers and high scores, and dealing with the stuff not everybody loves about multiplayer games.’ I do think there is still a significant market there.”

Personally, I think that a future without good, standalone single player games would be a drab prospect indeed. Single player experiences will form the nucleus of the movement that moves gaming onto the next plateau – that of the ability to stir true feelings of emotion in the player through drama, believable interaction, and cinematic choreography rivalling that of the silver screen. Leaderboards, multiplayer, user-generated content. While these are certainly part of the future of gaming it’s hard not to feel they’d dilute the player’s engagement with a truly poignant game.

Maybe we should concern ourselves less with how new online features will be the end of the single player experience, and instead allow disparate ideas to branch and evolve along their own path.

Originally written for Nuclear Geek.com

As Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots is just around the corner, I have recently played my way through MGS2 and MGS3 (I’m currently bidding on a copy of MGS: Twin Snakes…fingers crossed I’m the winning bidder). Most of my gaming friends have commented that they couldn’t quite get into MGS3 for various reasons, and that they consider MGS2 to be the pinnacle of the series. I don’t agree. I love MGS2, I even accept Raiden as a protagonist (to play as the au fait Snake would have weakened the plot), but the game doesn’t have the same pull for me as MGS3: Snake Eater. As ridiculous as its subtitle is MGS3 stands out on top. Not over MGS1 mind, but that’s another story for another day. Read on to find out why, in my humble (and very long) opinion, MGS3 has sneaked its way past MGS2.

And beware, there be spoilers abound.

Hideo Kojima was once infamously quoted, “The human body is supposed to be 70% water. I consider myself 70% film” It’s a peculiar statement, but one that no gamer would reject having played through the entirety of Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons Of Liberty, a title so unashamed in its cinematic roots it devotes entire sections of the game to cut scenes and codec conversations, some clocking in at over an hour. While this makes Metal Gear so enticing for some, it is the source of chagrin for others, who reject the game based on its standing as an ‘interactive movie’.

How did this influence Kojima’s approach to the third stealth-action adventure? The answer, of course, is not at all. Kojima has a vision: that games and movies can be intertwined with a finesse that surpasses anything put to celluloid, and he’s not afraid to demonstrate this in his games. MGS3’s gameplay is frequently halted by protracted cut scenes, some full of action, others of plot exposition. The first hour and a half will most likely see you holding the pad for only a third of that time, at most.

Is this necessarily a bad thing? Frequently removing control from the player is certainly at odds with the interactivity that defines videogaming, but Kojima has a deft touch, one that lends itself to the crafting of cut scenes that settle nicely in and around the gameplay. If they weren’t entertaining there’d be a serious problem, but they are. As with all Metal Gears the characters are as ostentatious as ever, the action on par with the best Hollywood has to offer, and the voice acting is yet to be bettered (although GTAIV may be a strong contender).

If you’re willing to sit through well scripted, acted and choreographed cut scenes (and you’d be crazy not to) then it’s easy to see how they inform the gameplay – characters open up, their actions taking on a greater consequence, and narrative events and subsequent objectives are given more significance. The assiduous nature of Kojima’s vision ensures that gameplay and cut scenes segue smoothly, each enhancing the other with a tightly interwoven narrative. The lengthy codec conversations present more of a problem, especially for those players whose concentration drops without visual stimulation.

Snake Eater, chronologically, is the first story in the Metal Gear saga. You’re in the boots of Naked Snake – the man who’s destined to become Solid Snake’s nemesis in the original Metal Gear: Big Boss. If you weren’t a fan of the decision to play as Raiden in MGS2 have no fear. Naked Snake is pretty much identical to Solid in appearance and demeanour – not surprising as one is a clone of the other. Your mission is to infiltrate a Russian weapons research facility, destroy the Shagohod (the 60s era version of Metal Gear) and kill Big Boss – the woman who was once Naked Snake’s mentor but has now defected to the Soviet Union.

The labyrinthine plot contains the many twists and turns we’ve come to expect from Kojima, but this time the videogame auteur has been reined in, to an extent. While MGS2’s convoluted narrative crippled under its own weight towards its end, MGS3 is a little less demanding. The double, triple and quadruple crosses we’ve become accustomed to still occur, but feel diluted; less entangled in the political intrigue and brain frazzingly complex plot threads that run through MGS2. Instead, MGS3 riffs on the human condition, allowing the military and political musings to take a background role in the narrative.

However, more on this later. First let’s concentrate on the gameplay elements that make MGS3 stand out. The most evident change is a first for Metal Gear; gone are the drab, metallic corridors that have characterised the series so far, instead replaced by verdant, forested environments. The animal life and excellent sound design lend the woodland an authenticity almost on level pegging with the surroundings we’re becoming used to in the current generation. Noticeable features such as the plant life’s reaction to player movement could be considered a precursor to modern games like Crysis.

Still, it’s not long before the jungle reveals itself to be a closely disguised deception. Games like FarCry 2 are now representing forests as wide-open environments to be explored, something that resonates much more effectively with the human mind than the boxed in areas that make up Snake Eater’s woodland. The game does allow for small, open areas of exploration, but generally it’s a headlong charge.

The second biggest change, and perhaps the most controversial, is the game’s lack of Soliton Radar. Typically Snake, or Raiden, would have a head start on the world around them, aware of enemy’s positions and field of view. Naked has no such luck, and must rely on his sonar and motion detection tools, devices that, while a little anachronistic, at least attempt to keep the gamer rooted in 1964. What may seem an unnecessary annoyance to some is actually a well conceived design decision that serves to reinforce the main principles behind MGS. This is a game about sneaking, using the environment to your advantage, and staying observant. By removing the radar Kojima forces players to use their wits as well as their eyes, meaning this is one of the tensest Metal Gear Solid’s yet.

Removing the radar is one way of altering gameplay, another is the addition of new elements that, perhaps, are not Snake Eater’s strongest concepts. The player must now keep one eye on Snake’s ‘Camouflage Index’ – a system that monitors his visibility to the enemy. In order to stay hidden the player can use the pause menu to switch between various camouflage uniforms and face paints to blend in with the environment. Watching Snake’s gear magically change colour after a quick trip to the pause menu is a sign of the counter-immersive nature that the Metal Gear Solid series has never been afraid to flaunt (Colonel Campbell ordering the player to turn off their PS2 in Sons of Liberty being a prime example). This, the new ‘Cure’ menu, and the Stamina gauge (which must be refilled by eating, amongst other things, the eponymous snakes) add an extra level of tension and exemplify the sequel’s attempts at new gameplay. Nevertheless, it’s hard to imagine the game would be radically different without them.

As ever the collection of characters and enemies is as diverse as it is imaginative. From the despicable Colonel Volgin to the seductive Eva, the fresh-faced Ocelot to obligatory scientist-in-distress Sokolov. The range of characters ensures that the aforementioned cut scenes rarely drag, as each individual highlights the narrative in their own way. It’s arguably The Cobra Unit that stands above the pack, more so than even MGS1’s FOXHOUND or Son’s of Liberty’s Dead Cell. The Pain, The Fear, The End, The Fury, The Sorrow and The Joy are a combination of boss fights that cannot be criticised for lack of variety. They provide the interesting dynamic that is evident in all Metal Gear’s: supernatural individuals juxtaposed to a world that is otherwise portrayed with a very real aesthetic.

The series’ proclivity for outlandish characters really knows no bounds, but it is the focus on the human, and altogether more real, aspects of the human soul that defines MGS3. The details behind Big Boss’ transformation from loyal soldier to dangerous enemy were never documented before now, and the consideration applied to the story perfectly sets up Naked Snake for the change, while totally altering your preconceptions of him and his motivations. While before he was nothing more than an antagonist, Snake Eater portrays him and his actions as something born of tragedy.

Big Boss is easily one of the most malevolent villains to have appeared in any videogame series, so to witness the origins from his perspective – to experience the turmoil that shaped Naked Snake into Big Boss – it’s hard not to feel for him. To have his spirit and sense of duty utterly destroyed by those he trusted most Snake is irreversibly changed, and in the context of the other Metal Gear games we get to see just how ugly that transformation was. Never has Metal Gear’s message of the hypocrisy of war been more effective when viewed through the eyes of the ‘enemy’. It’s arguable that Big Boss is one of the most tragic characters in modern videogaming, second only to the Boss herself, whose selfless sacrifice in face of extreme adversity carries a weight not commonly encountered in a videogame.

The series’ running theme of what it is to be a soldier, and how this manifests itself in a human being, remains the foundation of the story. MGS1 dealt with the receding role of soldiers in a world that doesn’t need them anymore, and MGS2 the theme of what it is to be a soldier in the modern world and how technology continues to blur the line between programming and training. MGS3 continues the theme, this time focusing on the more human aspects of war – the difference between honour, loyalty, duty and fealty, and the lengths a solider will go to hold onto their beliefs.

So why do I like Snake Eater more than Sons of Liberty? Is it the less convoluted story? The lush environments? The sound design? It’s all these things and more. The dedication to character and story is not new to a Metal Gear game, but the emphasis on altogether more ‘human’ themes marks MGS3 out as an wholly mature title – one that resonates on a deeply emotional level – and for this it can be considered a more ‘next-gen’ videogame than many titles out there right now. Let us hope that MGS4: Guns of the Patriots holds true to the core principles that make MGS3 an adventure to remember.

Welcome to my column, The Gaming Horizon, a semi-regular piece about the upcoming games you should definitely be keeping an eye on. Today I’m going to look at Quantic Dream’s Heavy Rain. The Paris-based developer are responsible for such cult favourites as Omikron: The Nomad Soul (also know as David Bowie: The Game) and the critically acclaimed yet financially panned Indigo Prophecy (or Fahrenheit depending on which side of the pond you come from). Indigo Prophecy did some really cool things concerning the effects of decisions, branching storylines and time-based event triggers. It’s the sort of innovation that Quantic Dream hope to expand upon in Heavy Rain. Now before you read on, watch the video below. I mean, really watch it.

‘The Casting’, a tech demo first shown at E3 2006, is a prototype whose goal was to define if it was possible to create a current-gen character with the ability to express complex emotions. Watching the video it’s easy to see that Quantic Dream achieved their goal, the in-game engine accurately capturing each subtle shade of emotion the actress experiences – from shy naivety to anger and tears.

“It was a short test done in three months, starting from scratch, including the script writing and development of the engine on PS3,” says David Cage, CEO and founder of Quantic Dream, “But most of all it was about understanding from an artistic point of view what crafting an emotional experience will mean in the future. On this point we learnt much more than we expected. Thinking about a video game as an emotional experience has a massive aspect on every single aspect of development, from the writing to the interface, to the technology and tools. Quantic Dream has invested in this particular approach for ten years; now we have a very clear vision of how emotions can be triggered.”

It’s a provocative proposition: that a videogame could possess the power to resonate on a deeply emotional level. A game that can evoke complex emotions – longing, despair, empathy – is the holy grail for some in the industry. Some may question whether such a feat is even possible. Many games have tried and failed, or at least fallen short of their goals. Mass Effect attempted a believable romance sub-plot, but the inflexibility of the conversation system and character models that strayed just the wrong side of the uncanny valley made it all a little too artificial. Final Fantasy titles have always done a good job of triggering emotions, but there has always been a certain disconnect with characters that are clearly computer generated. The touching recreation of relationship in Ico signified a new possibility for videogames but technological limitations only allowed it to take this so far.

So will Heavy Rain truly be able to encapsulate the essence of what makes us human? Cage is adamant that it will. “Most videogames only use very basic emotions, like fear, anger, power and frustration, but not the social emotions that appears later during evolution like empathy, sadness, joy, pity, love et cetera. These emotions are more complex to generate, but all other are forms managed to do it. I can see no reason why games should limit themselves to the same old basic ones…Our next project will continue to explore the direction we initiated with [Indigo Prophecy]. We discovered that an emotional experience based on storytelling could be as appealing as more traditional game forms. We also saw with the incredible reactions to The Casting that people were eager to discover new forms of interactivity. With this next project, we want to build on what we learnt, continue to improve the grammar of our narrative language, while offering a very unique type of experience. It is again very ambitious, unique and challenging at all levels.”

Details on actual gameplay remain scarce, but what is known fits into the emotional construct that Quantic Dream have proposed. There will be no supernatural elements, the narrative focus instead on dark film noir thriller, with mature themes such as a father’s love for his son providing the basis for drama – a complex narrative that will have to be handled delicately if not to come across heavy-handed. It’s important to note that the plot is in no way connected to The Casting, nor is it a sequel to Indigo Prophecy.

The ability to play as several different characters is nothing new to videogames, but there’s the enticing possibility that the ability to do so in Heavy Rain will be weaved into both the gameplay and narrative. “I continue to explore schizophrenia,” explains Cage, “What it means to be a different person – but the game will also be about love, fear, and how both can interfere. It will really be about moral choices, and the difficulty in knowing the difference between the good and the bad.” The interactive narration Heavy Rain promises, combined with an unprecedented level of emotional depth, is an exciting concept on its own, but tie it into considerations towards those aspects of the human psyche most titles are content to ignore and it’s clear that Quantic Dream have something very special in store.

Still…a father’s love? Schizophrenia? The dichotomy of love and hate? It all sounds very highbrow, and needless to say far removed from the mindless violence we’re used to. Alarm bells may ring for some. Fusing such intricate and diverse sentiments into a gaming experience is a complex task to say the least. Thierry Prodhomme, Lead Character Designer at Quantic Dream, is well aware of such difficulties. “Creating emotion on a virtual actors requires a combination of many different elements. Graphics or animations are just some of them. We tried to work on the lighting, the directing, the script, the animation of hair, the tongue and fingers. It is really the consistent combinations of all these elements that create emotion. This is why it is so difficult to achieve.” If The Casting is anything to go by, then it is clear that Quantic Dream are well on the way to accomplishing the seemingly impossible task of making a virtual actor capable of expressing and sharing complex emotions with the audience. And that was two years ago. We can only imagine what they’re capable of now.

We’ve seen the current-gen technology used to amaze with expansive vistas and creatures that fill the whole screen, but to have a game that looks inward rather than outward – to look at what makes us human – and transform this into gameplay, is a change of experience the importance of which cannot be understated. David Cage is well aware of this fact: “Time has come for interactive experiences to propose more than fun and adrenaline. We need to offer a wide panel of emotions, and not just fear, anger, frustrations, but love, hate, empathy, sadness. We should also start to bring depth and meaning by creating experiences deeply relating to a player’s inner self. Our industry is now ready to reach maturity. We need to become more ambitious, more creative; we need to dare to explore new directions and take new risks. I am convinced that great rewards will be found following that route.”

Let us hope that this is not a vision exclusive to Quantic Dream.

Since the rest of the internet has had a complete nerdgasm and exploded its love all over the beast that is GTA IV, it’s about time that Nuclear Geek gives its two pennies worth on the matter. Is it really that good? Does it live up to the hype? Is it truly the most important game of this generation? Well, being the informative site on all things geek that we are – and the fact that I’ve personally played over 30 hours of it (the in-game stats have labelled my addiction level as ‘bummed in the gob’) we’ve gone and compiled a rundown of all things GTA IV.

Wow. Where should I start? I mean, it’s the hundreds, even thousands, of minutiae that make Liberty City what it is. Watching other drivers fix their rear-view mirrors while they wait for the lights to change. Having your in-game girlfriend comment on your change of clothes. The sat-nav systems and their spoken directions in the more expensive cars. The incidental dialogue. The Laundromats and pharmacies that add charm to the city streets. The fact that driving slowly up to pedestrians sees them defensively raise their hands towards your vehicles bonnet rather than blindly ignore you. The in-game internet – absolutely packed with content and news that reflects your actions. The grubbily authentic graffiti. The neon. The walk/don’t walk signs. The water itself, whose surface reflects the late evening sun to create the kind of evocative scene you just want to stop and soak up. The helicopter rides, taken whilst staring wide-eyed at the sparkling re-imagining of the city that never sleeps spread out far below.

I could go on and on, but starting at the very beginning would probably be best. Once control of Niko Bellic was handed over to my willing hands the first thing I attempted was the car jacking of an unfortunate citizen (naturally). To my surprise, as Niko reached out for the car’s handle the driver slammed down on the accelerator and I watched in awe as Niko was dragged across the tarmac, the Euphoria engine in full effect as he bounced and scraped along. Immediately I knew that in this version of Liberty City, things really would be different. It’s a city that is reactive, living and unscripted. It’s as beautiful as it is convincing, the magic of the city on which it is based infused in every alleyway, junction and intricate overpass, and made all the more alive by a variety of restaurants, bowling alleys, cabaret, comedy, pool halls and bars. Rockstar have always had a knack for making their virtual worlds distinct despite their size and it’s no different here. Each suburb, district and neighbourhood has its own flavour and as with previous GTA games it’s not long before you start to learn your way around. Niko really plays second fiddle to the sprawling urban environment, because as likeable as he is Liberty City is the true centre of attention.

So aside from offering one of the most organic, lifelike gameworlds as a playground to your imagination, what else does GTAIV have that the previous titles lack? The most obvious addition is the cell phone. Mainly you’ll be using it to get in touch with your contacts to further the story, but it can also be used to work on your in-game social life – sections of play that allow you take girls on dates or friends on outings to play pool or darts, grab a bite to eat, take helicopter rides or just get blind drunk (attempting to control Niko while he and his friends stumble about like paralytic drunkards is endlessly entertaining). The phone has many other uses too, such as taking photos, choosing wallpaper themes, calling the emergency services, receiving messages from friends and even the ability to call a service that will text back the artist and name of the song you’re currently listening to.

Gunplay has also undergone a facelift – something the series has been in vital need of for a long time. The cover-and-fire school of combat – ubiquitous as it is in gaming today – once again rears its head. It slots into the gameplay nicely, allowing the player to snap to any cover (including parked cars – a tactic that can be quite handy when approaching a large gang). Holding the left shoulder button locks the reticule to the nearest target while still giving the freedom to pick which body part you’d like to hit. Headshots, of course, mean instantaneous death and the usual dose of satisfaction, while capping an enemy in the leg will have them limping for safety. Unlike before the gunplay is incredibly rewarding, meaning the game’s best missions are those with lots of bullets (and believe me, there are lots of bullets).

Close quarters combat also allows for combos: timing a quick tap of the A button causes Niko to perform a quick and brutal take down, reducing the opponent’s health to scraps. The animation is top notch, from Niko’s sturdy saunter to the way he pulls unwilling victims from their vehicles. Assassin’s Creed set the standard for in-game character animation, and GTA IV – with the smart Euphoria engine working away in the background – has well and truly knocked it from the top spot. During one mission I had Niko climb to the top of a crane, only to accidentally let him slip in-between a collection of girders. Watching him bounce and bound off every strut on his descent was as awe-inspiring as it was a sickeningly realistic depiction of physics and weight.

Ok, now allow me to take two steps back and focus on some of the issues that conceal themselves within the grandeur of Liberty City. No game is without its faults, and GTA IV has several, albeit very minor, discrepancies. To be honest it feels almost silly to bring them up – as they pale into insignificance when you consider the game as a whole – but they’re there nonetheless. Buildings pop in and out on the horizon from time to time, and sometimes during the otherwise excellent cutscenes the character models look a little too similar to those from previous instalments with only a new layer of polish to spruce them up.

The social life side of things can begin to feel a little too much like a chore rather than fun. More than once I’ve been happily heading towards a mission involving helipcopters and rocket launcers only to have a friend call up because they want to go bowling – not quite as exciting by any means. Turning them down causes a decrease in their level of friendliness towards you, which in turn means missing out on the bonuses they will award later on. Sure, the social life is optional, but it can jut into the gameplay a little too often if it’s something you’re not interested in.

And here’s a really absurd-sounding problem: GTA IV can be a little too realistic. Ok, ok. That is absurd, but hear me out. GTA IV presents such a lifelike world that you actually feel let down when Niko won’t interact with an object. Be it a building you can’t enter or an item you can’t pick up you feel it all the more strongly than you would in a game that allowed you no freedom at all. A similar problem arises when Niko interacts with the world ‘incorrectly’. An example of this with bike helmets – Niko magically produces them from any bike he rides and drops them on the floor when he’s done, only for them to reappear within the bike later on. It’s not a major problem – more a very minor disappointment – it’s just the kind of thing that sticks out like a sore thumb in a gamespace were everything else is immaculately represented.

Such contrasts are also evident on a much broader – and much more significant – scale. GTA IV plays out. In Niko, Rockstar have created a sympathetic individual who, to anybody mindful of storytelling and the artistic side of games, should not be going on a murderous rampage. Niko Bellic is not proud of his actions. They are never glorified. In fact, through the in-game conversations with Cousin Roman, you will hear his commentary on his standing in life, as well as heart felt deliberation on what makes a man do the things he does. It’s simply out-of-character for Niko to become a mass murderer, and as such, killing sprees do not feel right. You want to be good, you want to interact with Liberty City as you would if you lived there. Now, this means two things. One, it deters you from the casual violence that has characterised the series so far – something that can detract from the freewheeling nature of the experience. Two, it creates a new way of interacting with a familiar game: who would have thought you’d spend as much of your time with GTA in the back of the cab as in in the front of a stolen car? Either way, it marks a substantial change in the way GTA presents itself to the player.

The importance of such a change in direction for a series as hell bent on destruction as GTA cannot be understated. By removing such insanities as ‘Rampage’ and focusing instead on narrative, character and setting Rockstar have paved the way towards a great age for gaming. When playing GTA IV you can’t help but feel the implicit possibility of a future in which titles can willingly explore violence, sexuality and racism in the same way the movie industry can tackle today’s biggest social dilemmas without coming under fire. A future in which the mainstream will realize that gaming is the number one entertainment industry because the average gamer is nowhere near his or her teen years, and can not only handle mature topics, but actively begs the industry for them. GTA IV encapsulates everything we’ve wanted from the current generation but haven’t quite been given to until now.

I mean, everything I’ve written above aside, any game that simply allows you stare out the back window of a taxi as the world rolls by, and makes you actually want to do it, is something special. Where can Rockstar possibly take the series next? It’s a question as stimulating as it is prodigious.

It feels, sometimes, that the criticism end of the industry can be a little unforgiving. Titles that don’t stand up to the might of the GTAs, Halos and Marios of the gaming sphere are sometimes unfairly penalized for not achieving the high standards of concept, design and gameplay. It’s undue denigration. If a title doesn’t accomplish similar levels of unique and careful sophistication there’s no reason to dismiss it. The game in question should be deemed of its worth on its individual merits. So with that in mind, does Blacksite: Area 51 stand up on its own?

Unsurprisingly, the action is centred in and around the eponymous military research facility in Nevada, bar the prologue in Iraq. The plot concerns alien life forms, mutated humans, genetic engineering and a whole host of other B-movie-esque garbage that can easily be ignored. Less easily ignored is the heavy-handed political allegory Blacksite hammers home at any given opportunity. Your teammates comment on The War on Terror, the injustice of the military’s treatment of prisoners, and the ethics of torture. Such political ramblings would likely fare better if they were woven into the plot with a little more subtlety. Instead Blacksite hints towards the subject with a nudge and a wink, and as such the ham-fisted attempts to wedge it into the game feel contrived (for instance the not-so-subtle mention of the US armament of the Afghan mujahedeen).

Then again, maybe it’s unfair to criticise Blacksite’s symbolic shortcomings. It should be commended for at least attempting to offer a more compelling narrative than the dross most FPSes are content with. It’s not the only game trying to propel gaming forward as a medium with a political agenda; the Tom Clancy games, Army of Two and upcoming Haze also join Blacksite in this endeavour. Blacksite’s relative clumsiness in the handling of this topic aside, it’s indicative of a teething period in this range of interactive storytelling – something that will evolve as time goes on.

Blacksite takes its cues from genre staples like Half-Life 2, keeping the player anchored to the first-person perspective. However it’s a technique that comes across as merely functional, lacking the subtle environmental narrative and absorbing NPC behavior that made Half-Life’s approach feel so fresh.

The action doesn’t all take place on foot. The inevitable vehicle sections are split between driving – which feels a little too light to the touch – and on-rails sections spent manning guns on either vehicles or air craft. Despite the rigidity of these levels the dexterous combination of action and motion stands out. Blasting monstrous creatures from a circling ‘copter is rewarding on a level almost attaining that of Hollywood (appropriate considering a film is in the works). This is matched only by Blacksite’s other set-pieces, namely fighting huge creatures with a Javelin missile launcher in wide-open spaces.

The squad tactics and morale system fail to complement the gameplay in any distinguishable way. You can order teammates to move on a location or attack a certain target, but it’s rarely needed as you can usually take out large groups of enemies single-handedly. The most use you can get out of your squad is asking them to open doors for you, which on occasion they refuse to do. This is tremendously frustrating as you can only pass through such doors with their help, meaning you’ll have to restart from the last checkpoint to get the AI to act accordingly.

The morale system is equally useless. Obviously Midway were searching for some way to set Blacksite apart, the morale system being the result of this. As the players takes more damage the squad will start to lose morale, meaning they suffer a decrease in accuracy, damage and aggression. If the player performs well in battle the opposite will occur, with the NPCs charging in with well-placed shots. At least, this is how it’s means to work. It’s unlikely player’s will notice any difference bar from the text ‘Squad morale low’ appearing on screen, as combat plays out practically the same way whether your squad are getting their kicks or not. It’s nice that Midway tried to implement at least one new idea, it’s a pity it’s so unimaginative.

Even on ‘threat level red’ (the hardest setting) the most casual of players won’t have any trouble making their way through the game’s six chapters in as many hours. The short play time is matched by a deficiency in weaponry, which consists of the usual pistol, assault rifle, sniper rifle and rocket launcher, and the obligatory ‘alien’ weapons – which in Blacksite come in the form of a feebly disguised shotgun and grenade launcher. It’s hard not to feel a bit short changed, even more so when the game stops throwing new enemies at you about half way through, recycling the same models until the credits roll.

The graphics are worthy enough of a mention. They subtly improve as the player progresses, the last level in particular making the best use of Midway’s modified version of the Unreal 3 Engine (also used for Stranglehold) with an environment rich in detail and scope. The rest of the game is nicely polished too, if not a little too washed-out from time to time.

Nevertheless it’s difficult to enjoy the visuals when your attention is constantly drawn by a plethora of bugs; be it the persistent problem of guns floating once dropped, context-sensitive dialogue is said out of context, or AI becoming confused about what it’s meant to be doing. It’s the kind of stuff that serves to slap you in the face and remind you that you’re playing a game – something that works in direct opposition to Blacksite’s attempts to keep the player involved in both the game and the narrative. Harvey Smith, lead designer, publicly announced how strained the game’s development schedule was, resulting in the failure to test the game properly.

Blacksite was also set to have a co-operative mode, something axed in the title’s final stages due to the same constraints. Although co-op is becoming more predominate in action gaming it’s doubtful its addition here would be of any major significance. The shamelessly linear nature of Blacksite’s level design would doubtfully support co-op in any way that would radically change the game experience.

As with many games in this arguably oversaturated market Blacksite fails to distinguish itself in any meaningful way. The attempt at political allegory signifies a change in the way writers are approaching gaming, but when such embellishments are brushed away it’s another game about marines shooting aliens – arguably one of the oldest videogame clichés.

Blacksite is fun enough, and you can’t fault it for satisfaction. The guns feel like they should and taking down enemies is relatively rewarding. It’s just not gratifying on a constant enough scale to elevate it above other games of its ilk. Blacksite is average. There’s an average story, average attempts at political commentary, average combat, average AI, and pretty much average everything else. There are times when it shows glimpses of something better, but they’re always quickly contradicted by moments of technical or aesthetic inferiority. Blacksite is blatantly lacking the final refinements of which it is so badly in need.

5/10

Putting the ‘person back into ‘first-person’

It was a year ago when Rebellion attempted to apply the concept of free running to a third-person template in the average PS2 title Free Running, a game that stumbled in its attempts to translate the dexterity of the sport into an engaging and fluid experience. What’s exciting about DICE’s Mirror’s Edge is that may just get it right. While its parkour-based gameplay is focused less on the aestheticism of free running and more on the quick, efficient movement from point A to point B, the power of the PS3 is just what’s needed to turn the gymnastic activity into an adrenaline-fuelled game. And guess what. It’s all seen from the first-person.

Have Faith
The concept of parkour certainly doesn’t sound like the kind of action that would work from the immediacy of the first-person viewpoint – rather one that would benefit from allowing the player to see their character’s movement (à la Assassin’s Creed). Nevertheless senior producer Owen O’Brien claims that the gameplay and perspective have blended well, “At the start, everybody thought: “Yeah, that sounds cool, but it’s not going to work.” A lot of other people have tried it and failed, and this is why we think we’ve got something that really works now. We believe we’ve got freedom of movement that you haven’t seen in this genre of game before – it’s more like what Prince Of Persia has done, but in first-person.”

Mirror’s Edge takes place across the mountainous rooftops of a hyper-real metropolis, all glass and concrete. The city is tightly controlled by an oppressive authoritarian regime that stringently watches over the city’s populace. As such communications are consistently monitored, and this is where you come in. You play as Faith, a ‘runner’, in that it is her job to transport illicit messages and data on-foot across the maze of skyscrapers. Faith will duck, dip, dive, weave, bound, jump, run and land with an organic energy mimicking that of real life. DICE promise an acutely physical connect between Faith and her surrounding environment. The player will be helped by what O’Brien calls ‘runner vision’; potential paths and objects that Faith can use to propel herself onward are marked by red, giving the player and instinctive sense of how to navigate the perilous rooftop paths without constantly splatting into the tarmac far below.

Keeping the momentum
DICE have been keen to assure us that controls have been kept simple, with context-sensitive ‘up’ and ‘down’ functions assigned. ‘Up’ can mean anything from jumping to wall-running, ‘down’ can be used for power slides under low obstacles and parachute rolls, and the Sixaxis tilting has been rumoured for balancing on beams. The simplicity of the control scheme means that stringing together elegant combos across the urban assault course will be a breeze, and most players should be able to pick it up without dissipating the forward momentum. Combat will also play a large part, although Faith will fare better using acrobatics to her advantage. Snatching a weapon from more powerful enemies and using it against them is a nifty trick, but such an increase in power means a decrease in mobility, an interesting trade-off that players will have to take into consideration.

How neatly the movement will segue into combat remains to be seen, but Mirror’s Edge remains an interesting concept, not least because the imaginative vision may be just what the stagnating FPS genre needs. Jumping, climbing and diving are kind of movement that are usually been avoided in the first-person perspective, so to see them put together to form the very meat and bones of Mirror’s Edge is an exciting prospect to say the least.

An interesting take on a genre that’s very much in need of a facelift. Not convinced? All it takes is a little leap of Faith.

Condemned 2 is grim. Very grim. Imagine the murder scene from Irreversible terribly twisted together with the end of Carrie, and throw in a pinch of The Devil’s Rejects for good measure. You’re about half-way there. Indeed, Condemned 2’s entire raison de’être appears nothing more than to ruthlessly brutalise your enemies through a variety of violent methods. It’s the kind of brutality that lingers in the hands, and something for which Condemned makes no apologies. Fallen-from-grace ex-detective Ethan Thomas – now suffering alcohol addiction, jaundiced eyes and all – pops skulls in metal presses, smashes heads through glass and pummels innocent drunks to within an inch of their lives. You’d think the ESRB would have a field day with it, but no. Condemned 2 is on shelves, uncensored and in all its bloody glory.

Developer Monolith are a bit of an odd bunch. Before 2005’s Condemned: Criminal Origins and F.E.A.R. they tried their hand at a wide range of gaming genres, including the puzzle game Gruntz, the platformer Claw, and the MMORPG The Matrix Online. Since then they’ve become somewhat specialists in the FPS genre, the spy-spoof series No One Lives Forever and movie-based games Tron 2.0 and Aliens Versus Predator 2 being notable examples. Their recent forays into horror and gore tell a completely different story than their varied history; you wouldn’t expect Condemned to achieve the thrills and scares of established horror titles like Resident Evil or Doom, and to some extent you’d be right.

Condemned 2, while heavy with atmosphere, doesn’t breed the same gut-wrenching dread that pervades every part of its predecessor. Condemned 2 has stuck rigidly to the formula that is applied offhandedly to so many Hollywood sequels – bigger, better, faster, louder. Rather than build outwards from the original’s brutality and primal fear Monolith have built upwards. Condemned 2 has creepy monsters, baby dolls that explode, men in hulking suits of armour, and bears that look like they’ve been infected with the T-Virus. It’s all brilliant, but also unfortunate, as Monolith had the ideas and story to evolve through gameplay made all the more frightening by a stark reality. Instead we’re left with a title that is no less engaging than the first instalment yet somewhat lacking in intensity. The far-fetched aspects of the story scream Rob Zombie’s technicolour insanity, not David Fincher’s unflinching grittiness.

This isn’t to say the game isn’t scary. There are plenty of jump-out-your-seat moments and chilling atmospherics (much of which is brought on by Ethan’s hallucinations), fleshed out with more than enough action to keep you going. Ethan’s fierce attacks feel as full of the weight that made the first game so distinct. Queensberry rules now apply, allowing the player to chain punches for stronger attacks or trigger a devastating QTE. Rushing in swinging wildly with your electrical conduit / bowling bowl / toilet seat is guaranteed to end in disaster. A careful combination of block, defence and parry is vital beating your enemies into bloody submission. There’s been a slight change to the control scheme in that blocking is now prompted by holding down both triggers, Pressing each individually causes Ethan to swing with that side of his body.

The investigative portions of the game have also received a facelift. It was one of the most poorly implemented ideas in the first game: instead of the incisive puzzle solving players were hand-held through a linear series of clues. Here it’s more like CSI Metro City. Pertinent clues must be identified, such as a bullet hole in a corpse, followed by a series of questions – is it an entry or exit wound? Is the victim male or female? The player is then graded on their analysis. While these investigations start off strong it’s not long before they settle into the more standard approach of reading door numbers or photographing objects – a far cry from the deciphering of splatter patterns offered at the outset. Nonetheless the investigations are consistently better than the first outing’s attempt.

Monolith have made a concerted effort to mix things up, and meanderings from the beaten path pay off. Ethan’s descent into insanity in the SCU building, the search for bombs in Black Lake Lodge, or the history lesson in brutality in the city museum are all favourites. Sadly other attempts fall flat, the doll factory in particular relegating exploration to the finding of switches. However when a blazing fire erupts the player must find a gas mask if Ethan is to proceed. Wearing the gas mask limits your view through a grubby visor, blanketing all sounds other than Thomas’ heavy breathing. It may seem like a cheap trick but the confines of the gas mask perfectly encapsulates the pressing claustrophobia that Condemned personifies, and as such leads to some of the tensest sections of the game. Everything outside of cutscenes is seen from Thomas’ perspective, indicating that DICE’s Mirror’s Edge is not the only title experimenting with what the term ‘first-person’ really means.

The story expands upon the ideas put forth in the first instalment and answers a fair few questions. It’s an original attempt at an interesting concept, but it’s also more than a little silly. Monolith are once again content to end on another cliffhanger – albeit one less provocative – paving the way for a possible trilogy. While the majority of the game sticks to beat ‘em up mechanics wrapped in horror archetype, Condemned 2 wanders off on a tangent in the final act, bizarrely steering its gameplay towards science fiction FPS. The gun combat is not Condemned’s strongest point, so it’s unfortunate Monolith place so much emphasis on it at the game’s finale. Nonetheless the necessity to drink liquor to steady Ethan’s alcohol shakes is a nice touch.

Condemned’s instruments of brutality may be blunt, but the game itself is not – despite what the inclusion of such frivolities as thugs attired in medieval armour might suggest. Sticking to the foreboding and atmosphere created by the first few levels would have been the best bet for Monolith, and the weak ending could have done with some of the force felt throughout the rest of the game. Yet Condemned 2 still ticks all of the boxes for a wicked sequel, and most of the boxes for a damn good game.

So are we to be condemned to a trilogy? Treated to one, more like.

8/10

John Woo’s explosive, stylish, bullet-ridden films are the kind that toe that delicate balance of panache and absurdity in such a way that it wouldn’t be amiss to suggest they’d be perfect for videogame translation. Larger than life characters, over the top storylines and an infinite supply of ammunition (until there’s a stand-off, of course) seem like the obvious choice for the gaming canvas. Right?

Well, almost. John Woo’s Stranglehold has all the right ingredients in the mix, but the balance and adjustments needed to make it a top-notch action experience are either not present, or haven’t been refined enough to keep the gameplay from being repetitious.

It was seven years ago when Max Payne first hit store shelves. Incorporating bullet-time and balletic firefights, it certainly took its cues from John Woo’s films itself, with film noir, pulp noir, and a pinch of pulp fiction thrown in for good measure. Although both Stranglehold and Max Payne share the same creative provenance, Stranglehold doesn’t quite balance the gun-ballet aesthetic with the confines of its videogame environment. Max Payne gave its players large, open space in which to experiment with the minutiae of bullet time – allowing for Payne’s athletic launching whilst still giving space to breathe. Stranglehold’s environments – as beautifully detailed and articulate as most of them are – don’t offer the legroom afforded by open design to truly encompass the central gameplay conceit (that of diving around like a nutter and shooting anything that moves). This is not to say that the levels are designed badly; indeed, the Kowloon slums flow quite nicely, and the penthouse offers almost old-school sections during in which you must navigate deadly lasers. It’s just that diving around doesn’t feel as graceful as it probably should in cluttered, hemmed in environments. Diving left and right in ‘Tequila Time’ feels more like a means to an end rather than an elegant and artistically orchestrated combat solution. Add to this a tacked on cover and fire system and things aren’t looking rosy for Woo’s foray into the videogame spectrum.

But, just as Detective Tequila is hardly the kind of man to go into a firefight without a small arsenal of weaponry, Stranglehold has enough ammunition to keep the experience of playing it enjoyable. What it does do right it does rather well. Tequila’s special attacks are drip-fed over the first few stages, and each one of them is a joy when put to use. Precision Aim allows you to snipe enemies from afar, following the path of the bullet as it goes. The AI responds differently to various hit locations and it’s likely you’ll still be having fun with crotch shots by the end of the game. Barrage turns Tequila into an unstoppable superhuman that will rain death and destruction down upon anything in its path, and Spin Attack acts as a ‘kill everything on screen’ attack; the camera panning around Tequila as he stylishly swirls in a hail of bullets, doves inexplicably flying past as he does so. Incorporating these into your play will make all the different between death and success, so it’s fortunate Midway Chicago made them a lot of fun to use.

Stranglehold uses a heavily modified version of the Unreal Engine 3.0, which includes a set of physics technologies that allows players to destroy nearly every object in a given level. Watching the environments fall apart in dramatic detonations of particles is wonderful, and it’s arguably where Stranglehold shines most bright. Running up staircase banisters or sliding along on a food trolley as melons splatter, wood splinters and concrete smashes is the kind of cinematic gaming only this generation has the potential to offer. Running up the spine of a dinosaur skeleton whilst it falls apart under your feet is completely absurd, but completely brilliant too. It’s certainly arguable that the particle effects and fully destructible environments surpass even that of those found in F.E.A.R.. If only the screen didn’t turn a hazy red upon activating Tequila Time – which to an extent counteracts the beautiful displays of obliteration and chaos.

The central problem evident throughout Stranglehold is that it fails to distinguish itself in any meaningful way – instead settling for nothing more than an easy ride on the coattails of the films it’s based on. Max Payne was an incredibly distinctive game. The story – told through graphic novel cut scenes – was at once dark, sinister, atmospheric and humorous. Payne himself stood out as a troubled cop with both internal and external conflicts – his demeanour seeping into every facet of the story. Stranglehold, although touting itself as a John Woo ‘experience’, still comes off as a pretty standard shooter. It is cool to put yourself in the shoes of Detective Tequila (as ridiculous and petulant as he is) but it’s not enough to set it apart from superior games that have come before. The issues with gunplay aren’t enough to prevent any opportunity of enjoyment for the short five or so hours of gameplay, but coupled with broad characters and a take-it-or-leave-it story and you’re left with a game that’s only just above average.

6/10

As an afterthought, it goes to show that even the most likely movie candidates for videogame translation aren’t as ripe for the jump as expected. Stranglehold’s still fun enough, it just fails to distinguish itself in the same way Max Payne does. It’s entirely possible that Max Payne, with its strong narrative, intense characters and heavy atmosphere will do better as a videogame to movie translation than Stranglehold has done vice versa.

The death of the cutscene; it’s been a hot topic following the onset of such narrative wonders as Bioshock’s drip-fed plot and Half-Life 2’s ‘the story’s here if you want it’ approach. Assassin’s Creed’s convoluted expository dialogue certainly lends support to the abolishment of passive viewing in a medium defined by its very interactivity.

However, Uncharted: Drake’s Fortune – an out-and-out, story-driven action-adventure – knows that if its use of cutscenes is deft enough that they inform the narrative as much as they engross the player, then they can be just as good a narrative technique as the new forms currently being experimented with. Naughty Dog knows how to craft a good cutscene: they are well-scripted, directed and voiced, and sensitively coupled with gameplay so not to be jarring. It is clear that the Californian developer knows that to showcase characters whilst keeping the momentum of the story going, cutscenes are a perfect choice when utilised smartly. The dramatic framing they provide seems to sit just right with Uncharted’s raison d’être, and it’s hard to imagine any gamer having a problem with them. Uncharted knows exactly what it is: a strongly visual, over-the-top action piece, with a little bit of Indiana Jones thrown in for good measure. It doesn’t attempt to teach, nor does it try to change the way you view gaming. What it does do is give its all to exhilarate and delight.

Uncharted is a game that’s unabashed in its borrowings – elements of Gears of War, Resident Evil 4, Tomb Raider and Prince of Persia all being particularly identifiable. Even so, these are the best games of their type and it shows in Uncharted’s gameplay. Nothing is substantially new but the selective nature of such influences means the basic core of the game remains replayable rather than repetitious.The game breaks down into two main categories – combat and adventuring. The combat takes the form of the much popular cover and fire discipline, and you’ll find yourself constantly placed into environments that handily lend themselves to such gameplay. Although you’re facing practically the same enemy for the most part of the game, every situation requires that little something different from you, and a variation in each combat space keeps encounters feeling distinguishable and fresh. Multiple enemies will tend to attack from every side, meaning you have to be quick on your feet if you’re to stay alive. The close combat fighting is a real pleasure, especially when certain combos result in different fight animations. These are varied enough and usually result in your enemies being taken down in a powerfully athletic fashion. The combat is not without its problems, however, with Drake sometimes refusing to respond to urgent commands to take cover.

The adventuring sections are far more straightforward, and play out like a mix between Tomb Raider and Prince of Persia. There’s never much question of how to get from point A to be point B, but every now and then you’ll find that the handhold you reached out for is actually just a part of the scenery. Uncharted’s posturing of the camera for dramatic effect during these moments works well – especially when you’re climbing in the more scenic environments – and makes the more routine platform moments that little bit more stimulating.

Uncharted occasionally gives the impression that there’s not much to do other than run and shoot, but it is certainly aware of this and does its best to shake things up every now and again. Several puzzles will be encountered along the way, although the physical and mental problems involved are unlikely to slow anyone down. The vehicle sections on the other hand are short but sweet, the on-rails jeep ride in particular offering up some gripping thrills, as well as allowing you to take out your frustrations on the open jungle. Uncharted’s alternation between combat, exploration and the occasional vehicle results in a fantastic sense of pacing, something compounded by the game’s final section – a palpable change of tone, moving from light adventure to claustrophobic fear.

Uncharted’s story focuses on the escapades of one Nathan Drake as he partakes on a half-nonsensical, half-thrilling treasure hunt. Joined by his partner Sully and headstrong reporter Elena it is the attention paid to characterization that really sets Uncharted apart from other games of its ilk. Rather than lump the player with stereotyped genre archetypes it offers some of the most likeable characters in recent years. From Drake’s effortless charisma to Elena’s attractive wilfulness, each character has their own endearing quality. During play Drake will occasionally utter phrases, and whether it’s a breathy, cautious ‘ok’ after reloading or a frightened ‘woah’ when he almost misses a jump there’s a tremendous amount of character feedback.This is compounded by Uncharted’s fantastic animations. Whilst Drake doesn’t quite move with the steady gait of Altair, the fluidity of his motions coupled with their momentum create a real sense of place, and a real connection to the environment.

And what an environment. It’s almost impossible to talk about Uncharted without mentioning the graphics. In fact, they’re pretty much the best this reviewer has ever seen. The attention to detail – even in the incidental temple decorations – is absolute. It looks beautiful. The crumbling masonry, lush jungles and vine-covered ruins form an amazing sense of spectacle. The vistas can be breathtaking at times. From rusting Nazi U-Boats in the jungle to dank underground caves; you can rest assured your right analog stick is going to get one hell of a good workout. Of particular interest is the screen’s fade to monochrome shades when Drake loses life; an extremely effective technique in such a colourful game. What’s even more effective is watching the lush jungle come back to vibrant life as Drake’s health recharges.

Uncharted: Drake’s Fortune is the kind of unfussy, enjoyable, bold entertainment that the PS2 has in abundance. True, any informed prediction you may have made before playing it is probably correct, but that doesn’t stop it from being a great adventure story that plays excellently. Uncharted manages to get it right. It shows that game design can offer absorbing gameplay whilst communicating character motivations and narrative arcs through the careful use of cutscenes. Uncharted: Drake’s Fortune is simply a joy to pay. There’s no doubt that it’s one of the first must-have PS3 titles so far.

8/10