Beyond: Two Souls Review

Caged by Its Creator

A strange child's bedroom. Look how weird it is with its...lamp!

The very first screenshot I included on this blog was of Beyond: Two Souls, a game I was awaiting. Of all the games listed — including Borderlands 2, Dishonored, Assassin's Creed III, and Bioshock Infinite — it is a little odd that I would end up playing the first game last. But so it goes. Although the game is definitely entertaining, I'm not convinced about the footprint it leaves behind in comparison to its predecessor, Heavy Rain. Both games play similarly, and unfortunately, Beyond: Two Souls commits some of the same mistakes, sometimes worse.

Jodie Holmes is the sole focus of Beyond: Two Souls compared to the fractured tale that came before it. The story is also not presented in chronological order, so there are scant few details I could betray without spoiling some of the greater moments. Put simply, Jodie is a girl who has had an "entity" tied to her since she was born. This entity, named Aiden, is invisible but has the ability to interact with the visible realm: flinging objects around, messing around with electronics, possessing people, and choking people to death. Somehow or another, Jodie ends up being studied for the majority of her life by Dr. Nathan Hawkins, who becomes something of a father figure to her, while her unique situation isolates her from others and prevents her from forming healthy relationships. Oh, she ends up in the CIA.

During the course of the game, the player is given the ability to control both Jodie and Aiden under different circumstances. For the most part, players can choose by toggling with the triangle button, but certain specific scenarios force you to control one or the other. It works well, and both have sufficient controls, but Jodie's simple walking ability can often be cumbersome and tank-like. There are a number of circumstances where it would have been useful for Jodie to be able to run, but unless context dictates it, she generally walks casually everywhere. Aiden, on the other hand, has full 3D mobility, using R1 and R2 to move up and down respectively. He can also pass through some walls, which allows players to witness conversations and goings-on that Jodie would otherwise miss, providing some modicum of dramatic irony.

Willem Defoe doesn't think any of this is funny.

As events move along, Jodie uses Aiden in a number of ways, such as possessing a doctor to escape detainment, viewing memories attached to buried items, forming a bulletproof barrier, and even taking down an entire army of soldiers turned against her. As interesting and exciting as these moments can seem, given Aiden's abilities, it can be particularly frustrating when you can't control him or when he can't pass through walls. He does come to help her in numerous ways, so it seems stupid when Jodie's life is put in mortal peril, and she just kind of has to deal with it for a few minutes until he steps in like a prince in invisible armor. As far as moments when he can't pass through walls, there's an annoying scene in a hospital where Aiden has the ability to enter every room and view every patient before Jodie finds the room she's looking for. However, as soon as you enter that room, suddenly the door becomes an impenetrable barrier, preventing the player (and Aiden) from seeing what awaits Jodie before she witnesses it herself.

This plays into the grand issue I have with Beyond: Two Souls, which is the lack of sufficient fail states. David Cage made it well apparent when he made Heavy Rain that he's not interested in "Game Over" and "Continue?" His way of sticking his middle finger up at typical game concepts was to craft a story where characters could die, and the narrative would continue on without them. In both that game and Beyond: Two Souls, though, he asserted too much control on when players could "fail." This problem is exacerbated in the latter game to the point of ridiculousness.

You see, the opening of the game takes place after the majority of the chapters you'll play through. Thus, we know Jodie lives at least up until that point. This is actually not such a huge problem in and of itself. Instead, the cracks really begin to show when the player is either unable or unwilling to do well, the definition of which as dictated by the gameplay. The way Jodie is handled during action scenes is that she or her limbs will move in a certain direction while the action slows down considerably. Then, the player is expected to push the right stick in the direction it looks like Jodie is moving. During a fight, failing to push the stick in the right direction leads to Jodie getting hit or becoming vulnerable.

Channeling her inner Jewel.

During your first playthrough of Beyond: Two Souls, you will, of course, try to do all these sequences correctly, probably making a few mistakes along the way. I implore you, however, to try not doing them at all or to do them entirely wrong on your second or third time around. What you will witness is largely the same exact game. OK, we know Jodie lives up until the Prologue. What I don't understand is why Cage, the auteur that he believes himself to be, couldn't write more fail states: If Jodie doesn't succeed at doing all this crap, how will external events play out to get her to the next scene? The answer is that the same external events play out regardless.

For example, during a fight with an enemy agent while she's trying to escape a crumbling facility, she is saved at the last moment by an attacking entity. But despite the fact that this man uses a machete, a chain, and a crane hook to kill Jodie, failing to interact during this fight still results in his impalement and her mild injury. Thus, trying and not trying have the same consequence, and some scenes would absolutely not continue until I did exactly what the game expected me to do. My efforts to play as Jodie Holmes: Worst CIA Operative Ever only exposed the lack of fail states to account for poor player performance. And no, an extra bloody nose or bullet wound is not what I'm looking for. Throughout the entire game, I only encountered three chapters that adequately accounted for Jodie being a total failure at life.

Ironically, and I don't know if David Cage did this on purpose at all, Jodie complains in one chapter about how she just wants to die but just can't. In the context of the narrative, this is in light of Aiden's efforts to keep her alive, but in the context of gaming, it just ends up being a fourth wall-breaking moment of commentary on Beyond: Two Souls itself. Later, when another character, who has asserted pure and utter dominance over her, comments, "We can't kill you," I found myself rather resigned. After all, it wasn't for lack of trying.

It's a fair fight because you have to win. Get it?

Heavy Rain actually committed the same sin. The four characters (technically, only three of them) can only die in prescribed scenes. In other dangerous scenes, "failing" typically left a more damaged character. But the vast difference between it and Beyond: Two Souls is that the former had more failure effects. Characters wouldn't get information out of someone, entirely new scenes would play out when a character was successfully captured by police, or a new interaction would take place later on to make up for previous failures. Heavy Rain appeared much more adaptable in that regard, even when it became plainly obvious that I couldn't kill off a character who was in mortal peril.

All that being said, and it was six paragraphs of saying it, Beyond: Two Souls is certainly entertaining when you are actually trying to play it. I tend to harp on the negative, but I was thoroughly interested in how most chapters played out. While being out of chronological order can seem like a pain, Cage actually crafted it in such a way where the next scene has much to do with the previous scene, regardless of how they are related in time. Slowly, the answers to many questions trickle out in small doses until the resolution, which answers the biggest question of all. (Not spoiling it.) Unfortunately, there are a few chapters that seem a little too distant from all the others in terms of narrative, and motivations behind the events of the final chapter are weak and slightly out of left field. The final chapter itself, though, is a thrilling resolution to the story.

One thing I have to hand to Quantic Dream and Cage is their ability to stretch the graphical capabilities of the PS3, whose relevance is ending soon as the next generation approaches next week. The game is often really beautiful. Whereas Heavy Rain before it demonstrated lifelike character faces and models (for the most part), Beyond: Two Souls performs many feats with light that are often astounding. Even the face game has been upped. Many games stumble when showing wet, dirty, or otherwise affected faces, but this one actually makes them so much more realistic.

Stan, the (homeless) man.

The only common issue this game exemplifies like so many others is in the sterility of many environments. When the camera focuses on characters, or when the action is high, everything looks smooth and interesting, but in slower-paced scenes, such as in a house, walls and objects tends to look very clean. I'll admit that I'm really reaching with this complaint, since most of the graphics are really immersive.

I like to rip on Lorne Balfe as a composer because of the beyond uninteresting tracks he composed for Assassin's Creed: Revelations, but I have to hand it to him on this game. The music, which ventures occasionally into science-fiction territory, is often appropriate and interesting. As for the acting, not just voices, it is mostly done really well. Jodie is played by Ellen Page, and Nathan is played by Willem Defoe. If you like them as actors, you will like them as characters; that's really what it boils down to. Other supporting characters are also very well-done, not suffering from the Canada-in-America idiocy that plagued Heavy Rain.

So this isn't quite Heavy Rain II: The Moistening. Beyond: Two Souls definitely stands on its own and is a worthwhile interactive experience both in its technical capabilities and in its narrative, that is, when you are trying to play it like you would any other game. Unlike its predecessor, I just don't recommend trying to fail. Just take the cards handed to you unless you enjoy seeing a game flounder in embarrassment.

The (Really) Great about The Last of Us

This entry is a giant sack of spoilers for The Last of Us. Do not read it unless you’ve played the game.

Since finishing The Last of Us, I find myself wanting to talk about all the amazing aspects of the story with anyone who’ll listen. Because so few of my friends have actually played and finished the game, I’ll take it all out on you. I know that in my review, I complained about the combat, what is essentially the game, and I did something very similar for Bioshock Infinite. In general, I think it’s a shame when gameplay doesn’t marry up to skillful writing, even if it might technically be well-executed, and I find myself at a loss to come up with why that is: laziness, checking a box, fulfilling a demand, or a combination thereon. I’ll give more credit to The Last of Us in this regard if only because the writers left no story element wasted. The backdrop of racism, xenophobia, and religious zeal in Bioshock Infinite was just that, and it ultimately served little purpose against the crux of the main characters’ stories.

Initially, I find it commendable that The Last of Us borrowed a page from The Walking Dead property as a whole and focused squarely on people instead of “zombies.” The outbreak of infection happened, it terrorized the world, and the plot hones in on people dealing with it as opposed to a scenario where droves of infected must continuously be thwarted in their paths. I also like that the player is forced to confront other people who are also trying to survive but are more aggressive about their efforts. Ultimately, by creating throwaway characters, such as the infected, a light is shone on the nature of man itself. It’s easy to speculate about how one would act in a similar situation, but like life, the game sometimes doesn't offer a lot of choice. (Of course, I just wish I got more of “survival lite” on the Easy campaign.)

The Last of Us also managed to treat a variety of subjects on a more mature level than the bulk of video games ever attempt. For one, the writers’ treatment of gay and black people is the best I've seen, period. After Joel concludes that he and Ellie need a vehicle to get to their destination, he decides to find an old “frenemy,” Bill, to assist him. Bill is crotchety and has set up something of a war zone for trespassers. While trying to find a vehicle of use to the pair, he ably tackles foes and uses his mechanical know-how to survive. Along the way, the characters find out that his survival partner, has died, providing for a somber moment when Bill both laments his passing and curses his existence. When Joel and Ellie finally do get on their way, Ellie reveals that she stole some periodicals from Bill, one of which is clearly a gay porn magazine.

Here, in a AAA game, we have a gay character who is tough and useful with little flair for the dramatic and who doesn't get killed by his own melodrama. Moreover, the nature of his sexuality is actually not relevant to his character. The game doesn't stop for the player to balk, “You’re gay?!” Instead, Naughty Dog offers up the implicit. The man Bill finds dead was possibly his lover, but players are not goaded into probing like an insecure teenage jock. Instead, you make of it what you will because the story has many other places to go before it is through. Joel and Ellie find out, but they don’t waste a minute on it.

The black characters, Henry and Sam, are introduced as Joel and Ellie try to evade the bandit tank chasing them down the streets. After a small scuffle, it is revealed that the men have similar goals of finding the Fireflies like Joel and Ellie, and in a snap, they decide to proceed together. Sam is a pre-teen aged like Ellie or below, who has tired of survival. This is not to suggest he wants to die, but he does clearly want to be a kid, evidenced by when he tries to knick a toy from a shop the group passes through.

Henry, his adult brother, is clearly as keen on how to manage this unsavory world as Joel is, and both lead their young partners capably. Although his personal story is not too fleshed out, Henry becomes a quickly likable character while avoiding many of the tropes that lead other black characters in games to just be “other.” He wields a gun upright and doesn't send off foes with a “motherfucker” in an Isaac Hayes-like voice. In fact, he doesn't play the funny guy at all. His hair is natural, but it isn't a kooky afro or corn rows; the writers are smart to realize that styling one’s hair is probably a survivor’s last concern.

It’s important for me to point out that there is nothing inherently wrong with all the things Henry isn't. People of all races run the gamut, occasionally exemplifying stereotypes. However, video games (and media in general) like to convince us that these stereotypes are all black people are and ever will be. They’d have us think that black men are all funny or badasses, and black women are all sassy, but more dangerously, they’d convince us that black people are sidekicks while white people do their thing. The Last of Us, though it does ultimately kill off these two characters, manages to make Henry and Sam whole people who are as capable of being helpful when times call for it as they are at looking out for themselves…like people do. When they die, it is not forgettable, but neither is it martyrdom. Their deaths are just more heavy material for this well-woven tale.

Finally, I’d like to address how well women are treated in The Last of Us, especially Ellie. When Joel’s adventure begins, before he meets Ellie, he is partnered with a woman, Tess. As they traverse the distances of her story arc, she also ably performs as a survivor in the infected environment. In fact, in one scene when they confront someone who betrayed them, Tess acts downright mean and vengeful, showing both strength of will and weakness of human nature – you know, like all people do. She isn't a femme fatale or a mystical being who can’t control herself. Tess is literally just a person trying to live, and her sex is not a commodity worth bartering with other characters or the player to do so.

Ellie’s shining time is during the Winter chapter of the game, which is so amazing and emotionally intense, it just haunts me. Thinking about it overwhelms me with emotion. At the end of the Fall chapter, Joel is severely injured, and Ellie is forced to aid him as the two try to leave East Colorado and continue towards Salt Lake City. But the chapter ends with Joel just falling off their horse, too sick to go on.

The Winter chapter starts with the player controlling Ellie, who appears to be alone, and trying to hunt a deer. As the beginning of this chapter transpires, Ellie gains weapons and shows off knowledge of the same tricks Joel used during the first half of the game. Realistically, her size prevents her from choking grown men to death, but she is still able to use her knife to take them down. It quickly becomes clear that during their journey, Joel has enabled Ellie to survive. And until the plot reveals that Joel is still alive somewhere, the player is given the genuine feeling that the rest of the game might be played through Ellie, something not previously revealed when Naughty Dog talked up the game. It was a nice but scary feeling, not knowing what became of Joel.

Eventually, Ellie is kidnapped by a group of men who either seek to use her body for sexual pleasure or eat her as they have done to others before her. This scenario, my friends, is where The Last of Us does something almost no other game bothers to do. Briefly after she is kidnapped, Joel wakes up in the garage where he has been fighting off infection in the bitter cold. Like any good partner (father figure or otherwise), he seeks Ellie out, leading to scenes  with similar combat and stealth as he’s encountered before, though travel is marred by heavy snowfall. But Ellie does not just sit and wait for her hero, nor does it even seem that she’s considered doing so. Using her wits and her notable feistiness, she escapes her small prison and begins trying to find her way out of the labyrinthine bandit town. At this point in the game, where the player is moved from one character to another, both Joel and Ellie are tasked with surviving the same scenarios with the same weapons and toolsets available to them. Joel and Ellie are equals, despite their age and differences in gender.

But amazingly, that’s not all. Ellie’s trials take a turn for the worst when she gets trapped in a hotel restaurant with her psychotic captor, David, who begins to set fire to the place. He is extremely aggressive and done with treating Ellie with even the faintest shred of tenderness. In something of a boss scenario, Ellie must jump David several times with her knife in the hopes of taking him down. The crescendo is when they are both heavily weakened, but David manages to stand over Ellie as she tries to crawl her way to a weapon to take him down.

In this moment, as he kicks and chides her, the writers forewent the lazy route, that is, having Joel barge in at the last possible moment and take David down as Ellie cowers on the floor. No, the player instead navigates Ellie to an unseen machete, which she uses to cut his leg before kneeling on top of him and stabbing him over and over. It is not until this point that Joel arrives, his only purpose to comfort an enraged Ellie. The fact is that here, Naughty Dog let a young woman fight for her own survival and escape both a sexually and physically threatening event in her life. They did not let the man play the hero. Instead, Ellie triumphs over her own adversity, and the player finally gets the satisfaction of seeing Joel play the father. This scene, Readers, is one of great impact and one of the best I've ever witnessed in a game.

I am thankful for playing The Last of Us. Typical gameplay elements aside, it just features masterful and mature storytelling that we, as gamers, not only craved but needed to get out of the funk of the status quo. It is also delivered straight until the ending, which is both smart and uncomfortable. However, this is not to say that it doesn't still borrow some tried concepts, which I will address in another post.

All images obtained from the official website for The Last of Us.

The Last of Us Review

Apocalypse, the Beautiful

Just look at it.

I hate to be trite and go on about how Naughty Dog's The Last of Us is one of those rare experiences in gaming. The gameplay is not particularly rare, but the story weaved and the treatment of each character within it are indeed quite special. The end result is a game that weighs heavily on the soul hours (or days) after the credits have scrolled.

The game starts in Texas during a climactic moment in the spread of a human variant of the cordyceps fungus. In reality, this fungus is known to possess insects until such time that it strays from its tribe, dies, and grows a large spore spewing growth from its head cavity. In The Last of Us, the fungus turns humans into a type of zombie, constantly desperate to perpetuate itself through bites and scratches. As time goes on, the fungal growth breaks through the skull, turning the person into a wandering drone, constantly clicking and using echo location to find potential victims. I won't delve into the introductory moments so as to avoid spoilers, but it's fair to say that those events dig their claws both into the soul of the male protagonist, Joel, and the player, establishing a somber tale for the remainder of the game.

Joel's story then continues with Ellie, a young woman whom he is tasked with transporting over amazingly large distances and mostly by foot. Ellie is a tough tomboyish character, obviously hardened by growing up in a world of survival of the fittest and witnessing the utmost in violence around her. Like Elizabeth from Bioshock Infinite, despite the purpose of the trip, Ellie is not simply being escorted and protected by her valiant hero. Instead, she is capable of participating in taking down foes, though to a lesser extent. Unlike Elizabeth, she doesn't randomly but predictably find objects to assist Joel in skirmishes, and she occasionally does need to be saved like he does. However, that latter fact is not an annoyance in the least and comes up rarely, especially if you know what you're doing. For the most part, Joel does his thing, and Ellie may or may not be involved.

Ellie, the girl

The Last of Us features gameplay similar to the Uncharted series – third-person shooting with a variety of weapons, some up-close melee, and a functional stealth mechanic. The difference in this experience is that the apocalypse has left the protagonist's approaches rather resource-restricted. You can waltz into a room shooting everyone, but ammo is moderately scarce, and your health is persistent, meaning you need to heal yourself with medical kits in order to recover from grave injury. Time is also a resource, though: healing takes a noticeable amount of time that isn't convenient for firefights, enemy characters change their patrol patterns over time, and silent kills take uncomfortably long.

There are two main sets of foes in this game: the infected and the bandits. (This is to imply that there are other foes, which I won't spoil here.) I've already explained the infected, and the bandits fit the common apocalypse story trope of the people who turn on their fellow men to survive. Where the game deviates from other such stories, such as that of Fallout or I Am Alive, is that Joel has played the bandit before, something that is revealed in an early conversation with Ellie. Although killing to survive is the name of the game you're playing, you are controlling someone who has killed to steal and stand his ground.

As varied and nuanced as Joel can be, his bandit nemeses in some scenarios are so large in population that they are as meaningful to kill as the ridiculous mobs of goons in the Uncharted games. A rudimentary understanding of the bandit archetype easily reveals that men (always men) of such violent and aggressive nature are probably unlikely to band together in such huge groups without attacking each other. Yet, there they are, the disposable people. Whatever weight this game was purported to lend to killing is continually negated as more bodies are thrown on the heap.

Joel, the handsome man...being killed by a clicker

I attempted a stealthy route through these killing fields, which had varying results. The biggest irritation was the false sense of completion to almost every scenario. When Joel murders the "last" guy, it's always signaled by a bolder takedown – instead of silently choking the man out, he will curb stomp him, for example. But over and over, as I begin rummaging for resources, suddenly, I hear the voices of even more men coming, and my heart would deflate. The new aggressors/victims fan out in unpredictable patterns with an almost GPS-like sense of Joel's and Ellie's location.

I suppose it is reasonable for this to happen once or twice, but the frequency was alarming. Joel comes equipped with his own version of Batman's Detective Mode from the Arkham games, lowering his ear near the ground and restricting his movements to listen for enemies' locations. Obviously, this ability is nigh superhuman in its execution, but it is remarkably stunted in its inability to pick up men beyond the door you are trying to reach or to hear the men shooting the breeze waiting for you to eliminate their brethren. This inconsistency is a frustrating immersion breaker. This isn't war; it's survival. You'd imagine that instead of filling areas in distinct waves, these disorganized foes may meander in and out sporadically, making it hard to tell if there even is a last guy.

Upon the second wave, I'd occasionally lose my cool or my own personal energy to maintain stealth, and let shootouts break out. Depending on available weapons and ammo, these controlled rather well. Fumbling with reloading guns and figuring out what to do when you completely run out of ammo for one lead to tense moments where you have to decide to run and hide or beat attackers senseless at risk of exposing oneself. Breaking stealth by accident or on purpose to handle enemies more aggressively worked well. It was during unavoidable shootouts that I'd wonder why I just wasted ten minutes acting stealthily if there was literally no way to proceed to the goal that way. Saving checkpoints are relegated to the beginnings of "encounters" no matter how many waves of enemies there might be, and restarting to try again is sometimes completely unpalatable.

Teaching a bandit to cha-cha!

I don't want to say I couldn't or didn't enjoy these encounters at all because that would be lying. Instead, it felt like I was playing a separate game until I could get back to the game I really wanted to play, which involved rummaging for supplies, reading unlucky victims' journals and letters, solving navigation puzzles, and listening to Naughty Dog's famous idle chitchat between characters. These moments when characters are interacting, either by helping each other cross gaps or by commenting on their surroundings are when the player is invited to bask in the world created for him or her. When Joel and Ellie had company with them, they'd carry on with their own conversations or even perform activities with or without his presence. It's nice to be reminded that there are people in The Last of Us.

There are some positive encounters in the second half of the game which managed to sufficiently blend the combat/stealth gameplay and the story effectively for me. These typically involved a deep sense of urgency for the characters to get to the goal or the next area safely, and I discovered that it was possible to survive some of these without killing everyone (or sometimes anyone). Much like the expected mechanics of the upcoming Republique, sometimes survival would come down to just getting out of there, which worked handsomely. I loved feeling the close call of leaving the scene, my heart beating out of my chest, in contrast to the feeling of eliminating everyone because it's impossible to open the gate without alarming everyone.

Resource collection comes in multiple flavors. On top of ammo, the player needs to find resources to craft items, such as medical kits and shrapnel bombs, supplements to increase various skill levels, generic groupings of parts to enhance weapons, and various memorabilia that enhance the story behind the setting. Opening Joel's backpack does not pause his surroundings, though, and crafting items takes time, so it is best to always be prepared. I played the game on Easy, and I found digging through each room I came across and looking in every possible corner yielded me a constantly full backpack, though some scenarios left me disparagingly low on certain kinds of ammo for quite a while. Melee weapons are all limited in the numbers of times they can be used, and despite the obvious existence of actual knives about, Joel frustratingly only utilizes limited-use crafted shivs to slash foes. It's an ineffective method the developers used to limit the player needlessly.

Getting Ellie to a nunnery was pivotal here.

Regardless, Naughty Dog managed to make the experience of playing The Last of Us unique through their entire presentation. Beginning with the graphics, they have managed to stay on top of this console era with their sublime mastery of the PS3's now seven year-old GPU. The game is, simply put, utterly gorgeous. Many games feature fantastic images of barren plains and sterile offices, made astonishing by effective character models and expert lighting. Well, this game features dirty, gritty, and object-populated environments, also effectively modeled and lit. Not since Uncharted 2: Among Thieves have I been this enamored with trash, but the way the graphics team rendered filthy, garbage-strewn, lived-in environments consistently for the entire game is once again worthy of applause. This game breathes apocalypse whereas some games only begin to emulate it. And don't get me started on the amazing seasonal weather effects, particular that of the snowy winter.

The accolades I can throw upon presentation don't end there, however. Sound design is excellent with realistic object collision sounds and voices becoming appropriately muffled as Joel puts walls between them and the source. (Small critique: if you don't face characters talking to you, they sound like they're coming through by radio sometimes.) The voice acting among the main characters is heartfelt and delivered with a lot of extremely necessary credibility. The personal connections required by the script would sound ridiculous otherwise. Award-winning composer, Gustavo Santaolalla, crafted a hard-hitting and really emotional score to complement the entire experience.

My final act of gushing has to be for the writers. I previously mentioned the absorbing chitchat between characters, but something else I loved was Joel's commentary after picking up letters and journal posts, adding gravitas to them by simple acknowledgement. The whole journal collection game changes when the character doing the collecting elects to voice how he feels about each item. It makes the objects less pointless to pick up. Also, a handful of the bandits would have conversations before beginning their patrols, such as chatting about whether or not the "boss" would activate an old movie projector. These dialogues were appreciated even if they were all we learned of the bandits' desires.

I had better luck than this.

However, the meat of the main narrative is simply one of the most touching and appreciable stories out there in gaming. Whereas I said Bioshock Infinite is worth its ending alone, every moment of The Last of Us' story is valuable and precious. As events degrade, as they are wont to do in these kinds of stories, the moments and interactions between the characters are very heavy and important. No character is introduced without the player getting a full sense of his or her motivations and personality, and certainly, no character is one-note. I could have simply heaped this praise over the opening events and those that unfold shortly after, but my true adoration is for the game's final act. Although the ending is nuanced and difficult and will keep you up at night mulling over, events preceding it are filled with such an emotionally taxing intensity that my heart could have stopped. The story alone sells the game, but even less than that, this section is a shining example of narrative and gameplay marrying to tell a personal tale. It weighs on me as a human being, and I expect it to do the same for others.

Although I would not call The Last of Us the complete package, I recommend it to everyone looking for a deeply and maturely handled story, filled with realistic characters and motivations. I've refrained from commenting on the relationship between Joel and Ellie because I seriously do not want to give away the turns it takes. Their tale, by virtue of them being the consistent factor throughout the game, is obviously the most important, but I also do not want to negate the other stories you'll encounter. I just hope the more typical aspects to the overly hyped gameplay do not dissuade you from taking the plunge.

All images obtained from Game Informer.

BioShock Infinite Review

Storytelling that reaches for the sky

Columbia, the vibrant city in the sky

I loved the original BioShock. It was the first first-person shooter that demanded I play it despite the fact that I didn't play those types of games. There was just something about it that I wanted to experience as soon as it came out. It was given to me as a present, and I ended up buying a $250 video card for my computer so that it would run correctly. I don't regret any of that because my curiosity turned into adoration and excitement as I played through the dark, sunken halls of Rapture. BioShock was a creepy experience that questioned the idea of free will through a unique combat system and deliberate visual design.

Starting BioShock Infinite was a wholly opposite experience. In contrast to the scary, confined spaces of Rapture filled with suspense about what's around the next corner, Columbia, the city in the sky, is an open, bright environment, and it's loud. The game wastes little time into throwing you into a world that you are pressed to comprehend as it's all being thrown at you. You play as Booker DeWitt, a former Pinkerton agent tasked with getting a girl out of Columbia and bringing her to those who have indebted you. As soon as you land, you are confronted with all of what makes the city tick.

Booker walks through a city in celebration of itself with a long trail through confetti and parades and carnival games. There are no shootouts or worries as you travel down the path to the first narrative impetus, and surprising as that may be, it is not the first time Columbia lets you take the world in. These moments were some of my favorite and most treasured. Although I will try not to spend an entire article contrasting BioShock Infinite with its predecessor, I will note that the times I was able to walk freely around and explore helped me believe in Columbia more than Rapture, where once you were done with one task, you had little else to do but head to the next. Columbia is also alive – you get to experience quite a handful of scenarios that place Booker with actual living people, who are not maddened nor are they turning on him at first sight. Once the violence of the game actually does start, walking freely among the living creates a different kind of suspense, where you spend every minute wondering when everything will just go wrong again. You know you aren't safe forever, and you find yourself wanting to lap up every drop of calm you can.

Riding the sky lines like a boss.

Of course, BioShock Infinite doesn't offer a lot of calm, and Booker is forced to defend himself against hordes of foes who try to take him down. To aid, the game offers a slew of guns, whose variety grows insanely larger as you make progress. Booker is also aided by vigors, solutions that offer inhuman abilities once imbibed. Initially, you gain the ability to coerce machines into attacking your foes instead of yourself, but soon after, you are able to throw fiery grenades that aids with concentrated groups. There are eight abilities in all, and each one can be upgraded twice with money found off bodies, in chests and boxes, and on the street. In fact, possessing a vending machine nets you a handful of money. Like ammo to guns, your ability to fire off your vigors is limited by available salts, and each vigor uses a different amount of your salts with use. Although salts can be easy to find both during and after firefights, it becomes imperative to consider which ones you want to use at a given time just in case you'll be taken by surprise before reviving.

The most unique battle aid of all comes after you meet and rescue Elizabeth, the aforementioned girl, who is actually a mysterious young lady imprisoned by the zealous and xenophobic Comstock, leader of this flying marvel of a city. Elizabeth possesses the ability to open "tears" within the environment, which can yield replenishing items, different weapons, or even navigation options. It is this ability that makes her special and wanted by Comstock, but the origins of how that relationship came to be is thoughtfully explained throughout the narrative until the finale.

Although Booker is tasked with bringing Elizabeth out of Columbia, he is thankfully not required to protect her. Unlike Yorda in Ico, Elizabeth is not helpless; she is more like Elena in Uncharted 2 in both positive and negative ways. On one hand, Elizabeth effectively navigates battle arenas without being harmed, and she will often throw ammo, health, and salts that she finds to you as you need them. On the other, she is nigh invincible in a disbelief-suspending way. I watched as she ran right through one of my exploding grenades to take cover, gracefully remaining unfettered as four men melted to ash right next to her. She also has her creepy moments, such as when I watched her take off running down an alley only to pop up right next to me when I ask her to unlock a door, another ability she brings to the table. Since she is not able to unlock doors during battle, I'd be willing to wait the extra ten seconds or so for her to believably walk back to me to help.

Sometimes, the game tries to be creepy like its predecessor.

Very early on, Booker (and eventually, Elizabeth) is granted with a skyhook, a device that allows him to ride rails that connect the various floating islands that make up Columbia and also to bludgeon foes with. The mechanic is certainly new to me, and it can be fun to make your own roller coaster fly-through the expansive environments. However, they also serve a strategic purpose during battle, allowing Booker to fly off to higher ground or cover or to attack foes while he rides. They were such a fun installation that I was a little disappointed about how deliberately they were entered into environments. They always either served a narrative or combat-related purpose and very rarely aided in exploration or finding secrets except in some earlier areas.

I realize that my complaints seem geared towards exploring Columbia despite BioShock Infinite being a first-person shooter. To me, the ability to experience a real, living city in the middle of a first-person shooter was what really shined in this game whereas many games in the genre impress such immediacy that the player is not permitted to bask in the work the designers have created. As a shooter, the game succeeds ably – weapons and abilities work, and there is good variety in both of those and in enemies. But I feel like the game failed to actually make me feel powerful by the end. Surely, I upgraded my weapons and vigors and would pull off crazy stunts like forcing five enemies to float in the air while I attacked them with electric crows followed by a shotgun blast. Those moments, by all means, are integral parts of BioShock's character and appeal.

The problem is that doing all that and then watching the enemies land on the floor and continue attacking you is disheartening. I played on Medium difficulty (recall that I'm the Easy mode guy), and instead of the enemies acting more strategically, they were just bullet sponges, a problem I also had with Uncharted way back when. The worst offenders were the Patriots, robotic effigies of Washington and Lincoln, who were plain immovable, only able to be stunned by the Shock Jockey vigor or similar environmental hazards. Compared to fighting Big Daddies in the original BioShock, these lacked humanity. I was literally fighting statues with mounted chain guns.

If it isn't caucasian, Columbia doesn't like it.

No, the Big Daddies of this game seem to be the Handymen, created from citizens extending their lives with oversized, artificial husks with exposed heart containers. But unlike BioShock, Handymen join the cavalcades of enemies that rain upon you, adding to what becomes an overwhelming insanity circling Booker and Elizabeth. I eventually grew tired of the overpowered combinations of foes the game would throw at me before the final battle sequence, which is mostly an irritating survival mode where Booker must slay round after round of enemies until the game finally gives you the ending you waited for.

Oh, but what an ending it is. The story of Booker trying to take Elizabeth out of Columbia and away from Comstock ends up being a twisting tale of choice, redemption, and freedom. It all culminates in one of the very best finales I have ever witnessed, where a single moment made me feel every emotion my body could handle at once. I was left with my mouth agape as I tried to process what I had just witnessed, and I still had about five more minutes of the ending to play through. It was brilliant and certainly another one of Ken Levine's ouevres that is a must to experience, particularly after one has played through BioShock. Though Booker's own character arc and Elizabeth's rival the predecessor's protagonist quite headily.

Barring the amazing main story and character arcs, the remainder of the writing is great at leaving a fantastic first impression even if much of it is ultimately not resolved. Columbia is a city with a lot of character, not just colored by its scientific innovations and religious overtones but also its political influences. An early sequence in the game perfectly demonstrates just how racist and xenophobic these people are, and Comstock directs them all to a fault.

Religion plays a large part in this game.

Taking place in 1912, black and foreign people take their historically given place at the end of the line in BioShock Infinite. Making no qualms about confronting the very real bigotry that took place in the early 20th century in the United States, people of color and different creed are all in subservient roles, and their portrayal in illustrations and advertisements is villainous and revolting. The downtrodden find their hope through the Vox Populi, a rebel group headed by Daisy Fitzroy, a former servant. When Booker begins his journey, they are mentioned in passing, but eventually the story confronts you with their soldiers and their mantra quite often. The path that storyline takes becomes an excuse for events to occur as opposed to an important driving force behind them, which is a bummer.

There is also the story of Songbird, Elizabeth's jailor and protector before Booker arrives. He is a destructive character that Elizabeth is tied to in an emotional relationship similar to Stockholm syndrome. As the story progresses, Booker is threatened and knocked around as Songbird chases the two partners around Columbia, but it was not as oppressive and continuous as I was expecting. I had hoped for scenarios where I was authentically trying to evade him, either by hiding in shadows or running between safepoints. None of this came to pass, and his arc ends with a surprising moment dulled by his lack of real presence or character development.

A lot of effort was put into conveying a detailed and believable city.

All these elements are honestly fascinating. You find yourself wanting to know more about them, and the characters involved obviously have depth. When you are playing the game and experiencing events with them, your attention is arrested by them. It is more the lasting feeling that leaves you wanting more. Whereas the finale stays in your mind and your heart like a parasite, these other elements are passed like a stone when the game is done. It is a shame because they have such presence, and the Vox Populi storyline is very relevant to race relations today.

Everything I have described is all portrayed through absolutely breathtaking environments and beautiful music. The soundtrack, aside from featuring a compelling score, also features odd covers of songs from later decades in our history, such as "God Only Knows" sung by a barbershop quartet or "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" played on a calliope. Columbia features varying though narrative-driven weather and times of day. Atmospheric effects and excellent color choices make every element of the city pop regardless of the weather. Textures also looked really good up close, with some very weird exceptions like flowers and bushels of apples, but neither of these detract from the awe-inspiring vistas. Character models are overused, though.

One of the moments I was delighted to witness admist all the craziness.

BioShock Infinite is a wild experience. The city of Columbia demands attention, and the story takes the player through some unforgettable sequences while also giving the player ample time to take it all in, a gift from the developer. And it all culminates in a final act worth talking about until Ken Levine's next brainchild comes out. But my major gripes with the combat scenarios and some narrative letdowns prevent this from being the perfect experience I hoped it would be. I love the gift the game has given me despite these things. It's hard to describe without spoiling it, but trust me when I say you must play this story. Just play it on Easy if you're anything like me.

All screenshots taken through Steam.

On BioShock Infinite and Roger Ebert (and Art)

A man once said something contentious. That man is dead. Is there meaning in it?

Roger Ebert after losing his jaw but not his spirit.

This week, famed movie critic, Roger Ebert died. Subsequently, some people took time out of their days to reiterate their vitriol towards the man. The man once claimed that video games are not art and could never become art, so some awful people saw fit to trounce upon his death as if his cancer was related. I feel the hate was unnecessary for reasons beyond the idea of taking delight in a man's death.

Reveling in someone's death or saying that person deserved it is vile. When I learned of Roger Ebert's comments on video games, I said, "He can go fuck himself," which is a common feeling one can have when someone criticizes something he finds important but is not available for debate. But I did not wish him cancer or to lose his lower jaw. Can you imagine how horrific it would be to have any of that happen, to know you were bound to die or be disfigured? If you think that is tantamount to hearing that a well-known movie critic thinks video games aren't art, well, you should reevaluate your life up to this point. (You may leave.)

Ebert had no direct effect on my life. When I was younger, and Siskel was alive, I would occasionally try to catch their show on FOX whenever the station randomly decided to air it. It was a fun show and a justification for staying up late like I did then. I didn't await their reviews, and I never consulted critics before going to watch a movie. Fast forward to present day, and my only interaction with him in the last few years was clicking on links to a few of his essays, which were all intelligent and well-written. He was a smart, cultured man, and I had every reason to believe he was good-natured, as well. Although I'm not bummed about his death, I'm not elated about it either. Everyone deserves better.

Much to my surprise, his death started to draw links to the recent AAA blockbuster, BioShock Infinite, in that some believe it is the realization of video games as art. It even brought the notorious Cliffy B to the fold:

Something eerie about the timing of the loss of Roger Ebert and the release of a true game as art in Bioshock Infinite.
— Cliff Bleszinski (@therealcliffyb) April 4, 2013

While, compared to some others, I found absolutely nothing offensive about this tweet, I was surprised that people thought this was the game that was going to win over someone who derided video games so long ago. To this I say, "Who are you kidding?" Although Ebert was a noted consumer of culture, video games were not among them. He certainly was not going to spend his last days valuing his life sinking hours into a violent video game or any video game for that matter as if all of a sudden, the industry finally created the holy grail. I'm happy to contend that there were plenty of good and better examples before it, all easily dismissed by such a critic.

I recently finished BioShock Infinite, and like many others, I was blown away by the ending. It made me feel a lot of emotions all at once, and my body's reaction was to send a few tears to my eyes. It was not the same feeling as the special moment in To the Moon, but it was an intense moment. BioShock Infinite features some really impressive writing and direction, but it also features a significant amount of gameplay that makes consuming these triumphs intimidating to a lot of people, including gamers.

I can see why some don't see the art I see in this image.

The fact is that first-person shooters can be tough to get into and tough to play from there. You may not agree; you may be the biggest FPS fan in history. Despite the number of FPS or FPS-like games I've reviewed here, I am not a fan of them in particular. For me, it's about wanting to check out a great story regardless of gameplay mechanics or wanting to check out why everyone loves a game even if it doesn't seem to be my style. The original BioShock was the first FPS that sparked an intense desire within me to overcome my reservations about the genre in order to experience what the game offered, and to this day, I do not regret wanting to play that game as badly as I did.

For other people, it's just not worth it. I suck at some types of games, and I most notably suck at first-person shooters if there is no stealth involved. Well, I suck at shooters in general – don't let me mislead you. But just because I'm willing to trudge through the threat of sucking doesn't mean everyone is. And there are also a lot of people who don't play video games because they (think they) suck at them, regardless of genre. Alongside those people are some who don't believe it's worth the time when they enjoy so many other cultural offerings available; they don't even evaluate their skills at video games because video games are a non-entity to them.

The skills required to progress through a game represent a barrier of entry for that particular art form. When it comes to the video-games-as-art discussion, I am not sure many people consider breaking down the video games into what they think is the art versus what they consider to be the game. The fact is that the game might be worthless or threatening to those who don't play. This, in turn, makes the art easy to be dismissed, and I don't blame them. It doesn't apply to every game, of course. Some games feature gameplay that is very much tied to its artistic expression, such as Journey or The Unfinished Swan, where divorcing the two is hard to comprehend.

Journey, where everything is beautiful, but is it art?

Before I write further on that subject, I do want to explain that I consider many video games to be art. I think art is based on emotional response. "Do I emotionally respond to what I am experiencing?" If the answer to that question is "yes," then I am willing to entertain its consideration as art. Maybe that is too broad, but I am not the judge, and there isn't any real jury. I just find it hard to believe that people can play a game, one with either a great story or a great experience, and feel joy, fear, heartbreak, or otherwise and not consider it art. Like Ebert, though, I'd agree that some games contain art but may not be pieces of art in their entirety. I think that's a fair assessment and one that is fair to debate.

On the other hand, I don't think that people who deride video games as something other than art consider the barrier of entry involved in other forms of art. Movies, music, and books are easier to consume, yes – there is nothing other than technical malfunction that can really prevent you from navigating them from beginning to end – but some of the most appreciated or most debated of these actually do require more than watching, listening, or reading to fully appreciate beyond a superficial level. I've had the experience where I've enjoyed a movie but spoke to a person who started talking about themes or metaphors that I completely missed. The end result is usually a modicum of disappointment from the other. We clearly did not enjoy the same art. It's possible I did not see art where others did.

A good recent example from pop culture would be Psy's dance hit, "Gangnam Style." People went nuts for the song. (I was not among them, but I think the song is fun and well-produced.) DJs everywhere started playing it at clubs and parties, and it's reached a saturation point where you will involuntarily hear it several times a week. It's even been incorporated into Dance Central 3, so those gamers can dance to it and score points doing so. But how many people listening to and enjoying the song are aware of its existence as political and social satire? From conversations I've had with people, the answer is not many. The clear reason why is that you'd need to speak Korean, have an understanding of South Korean culture and economy, and know that Psy has a history of being politically vociferous.

In The Path, you have to go to Grandmother's house down the road, but the forest is calling to you, too.

Although "Gangnam Style" is appreciable as musical art, it has a barrier of entry to be understood as art with commentary and crticism. Compared to a video game, the barrier of entry is less apparent, almost hidden. I'd compare it to Tale of Tales' The Path, where it is easy to complete the game six times in under thirty minutes by just walking in a straight line from start to end, but the core of the game actually requires the player to step off the titular path before trying to return to it. In other words, it's impossible to appreciate what the game has to offer or what the developers wanted to express without doing the extra work required to do so. Admittedly, unlike a song, The Path is not very enjoyable if you take the easy route, but one can consume and opine about it that way, and the artist is left to feel like that person is doing it wrong.

It is these barriers of entry that actually separate art appreciators, where the "snobs" come from, so to speak, though it's not fair to pass judgement on those who devote their time to understanding an artistic medium fully. With respect to video games, the barriers prevent gamers from playing what I would consider pieces of art, and other barriers, such as historical knowledge, prevent gamers from understanding what the art is trying to tell them beyond what they are experiencing. I reluctantly bring up the fact that a handful of people who played BioShock Infinite thought Wounded Knee references were bro shoutouts to Skyrim's "arrow to the knee" meme instead of a serious, horrific moment in American history. (By the way, it's OK to pause a game to Google a reference if it'll help you appreciate it more.) The truth is that many people will finish BioShock Infinite without being able to wrap their heads around the ending, or they might love the first-person shooter gameplay and think the story is trash altogether. Who am I to judge them? Nobody, even though I lament it.

This brings me back to Roger Ebert and his opinions. That's all they were. To their credit, he wrote them thoughtfully and carefully, which is more than I can say for many who wished him death, threatened him in life, or resorted to homophobic slurs to drive their indignation home. Regardless, Ebert was just a man albeit a famous one. He did not and does not have the ability to determine what is art for you or what you should think is art. If you feel passionately that he is wrong, then video games are art. It's really as simple as that, and many people will disagree with me. That is also OK.

Instead of hating the man, we should thank him for bring us closer than ever before to the medium we love – video games.

I Am Alive Review

Have machete. Will travel.

Somebody never learned his lesson in kindergarten.

After finishing Deadlight, I thought I would continue the motif of playing as a father who is trying to save his wife and daughter in a post-apocalyptic world. Of course, the previous game had zombies. I Am Alive has The Event. The development of I Am Alive is one of the darker stories out there, rife with delays, altered expectations, and entire gameplay changes. What's left is a game severely pared down from early trailer footage but otherwise shows little evidence of the development woes it suffered.

The story features an unnamed though still vocal protagonist who has spent a year trying to make it back to his home town of Haventon prior to the beginning of the game. As mentioned, The Event happened, and though it is never made explicitly clear what it was or what caused it, its impact is clear – earthquakes and dust storms have been ravaging the land since it happened, and almost everything is in shambles. In the opening tutorial level, Protagoniste, as I shall refer to him henceforth, makes his way through the exterior ruins of Haventon to his home in the hopes of finding his wife and daughter, who are sadly not there. Shortly afterwards, he finds a lost little girl, and this leads to the bulk of the narrative thereon.

What I want you to think about is how well that chandelier was installed.

Getting around Haventon involves mechanics similar to the Uncharted series with a lot of platforming coupled with automatic handhold grabbing. The difference is in the stamina meter Protagoniste must monitor in order to traverse safely. While climbing large structures and jumping from grip to grip, the stamina meter continuously depletes, which also results in tense music getting louder and louder as it does so. Once stamina hits bottom, Protagoniste's stamina capacity begins to deplete rapidly, and when that's gone, he will fall to his doom. Although stamina recharges automatically and quickly as soon as you're on solid ground, stamina capacity can only be regained through the use of items you find in the environment. Although a little trite, the game highlights usable items in white so that they are easier to discern from afar, especially in the dust cloud-filled streets of the inner city. It may lack a real-world explanation, but I was thankful for it. The developers do hide a lot of these items behind corners and objects in an effort to make finding them a little bit more challenging and rewarding, however.

Along with stamina is a health meter, which mostly depletes from being attacked by the neighborhood transients. As is common in post-apocalyptic stories, the dissolution of any kind of government has led to some folks being just plain mean to others, and it's your job to decide how best to deal with them. There are the innocents out there, who found safe spots and often ask you to provide some form of aid, usually in the form of those precious items you find along your journey. Others threaten you with guns from a distance but will not attack you as long as you keep walking along. To complete the triad of personas, there are the aggressors, who will kill you if you let them.

What is that guy looking at?

Dealing with the aggressors is actually a fun puzzle. Instead of turning into a predictable cover-based third-person shooter every time one appears (though just like the Mass Effect series, you can still kind of tell when they're going to appear), it is up to you to be resourceful and handle them carefully. Protagoniste is equipped with a machete and a gun, but bullets are the scarcest resource of all in this world. You rarely have even one bullet, especially in the earlier sections of I Am Alive, so you can't just go in shooting. The trick is in knowing when to brandish your empty weapon to enemies who don't know any better. If you face two enemies who clearly only have melee weapons, you can lure one in close, slash his throat by surprise, and then point the empty gun at the other, providing an opportunity to knock him out with the the grip of your weapon. You need to be wary of enemies who are carrying guns, though, because they won't be afraid to pop a bullet in you just for being so bold. These scenarios boil down into quick reflex thinking where you decide who to surprise, who to threaten, who to shoot (with the hopes of picking up another bullet from the body), who to push off a cliff, and who to go toe-to-toe with in a button mashing QTE to assert machete dominance over.

I loved dealing with these scenarios for a number of reasons. First, they require more brains over brawn, so to speak. Rather than reward aiming prowess, most aiming is automatic, so combat is easier to tackle than in a shooter but still challenging to a player who is not used to putting thought into it. Next, it invites real resource management, better than I've witnessed in games that touted the feature, such as Dead Space. I wasn't kidding when I said you spent a good amount of the game with no more than one bullet, and you'll go stretches with no bullets either because you haven't found any or because as soon as you got one, you had to use it. It wasn't until close to the end of the game that I had up to four bullets in my gun, but a few encounters after that dwindled the number back down. Last, these encounters feel raw. By facing only a handful of guys (always men) at a time and needing to mind your weapons, the weight of killing other human beings isn't as diminished as games where you have to shoot thirty guys to proceed. Don't get me wrong. You don't really care for these people, but at the same time, you realize you're not in a world or a game that is teeming with them to the point of instigating apathy in the player. You're never in a situation where a door won't unlock or you'll never get off an elevator if you don't kill every last one. The consequence could be death or severe loss of health but not always progression.

Is the building sideways, or am I?

In terms of execution, the mechanics of the game work well together, creating a mostly believable atmosphere. There is some variety to the environments and buildings you need to explore, so you don't get too tired of going down the same hallways over and over again. The street level in the center of Haventon is under a dust cloud, so stamina continuously depletes just by walking through it, the effect eventually tempered but never eliminated by finding a gas mask. Although this made basic sense, it became a little tedious running from ladder to ladder to get above the dust and regain stamina. This was I Am Alive's version of hiding behind cover until you regain health, more or less, and you get a little tired of it by the end of the game.

Despite my joy in figuring out enemy puzzles, I did wish the developers created scenarios whereby I don't have to kill every last guy. There are some moments where holding out your gun will get your enemy to crouch with his hands behind his head and surrender, but if you try to walk away at that point, he'll come at you again as if he forgets that you still have a gun (and automatic aiming). I'd like to believe that in reality, some folks would just give up despite the setting. There is also an armored machete-toting enemy type that appears later in the game that requires manual aiming, which is an easy button toggle. Although more challenging, it's hard to believe the guy wearing the armor would never carry a gun so as to be a better threat. Yes, it works better for the player, but it ruins immersion. They could have been excluded.

His talents never cease.

By the end of the game, mostly because of exerting extra effort, Protagoniste was basically a walking pharmacy replete with snacks and water. I would argue that this breaks the atmosphere and the need to be resourceful, but in all honesty, it's nice to be rewarded for looking around every corner like a true forager should do. The white highlights helped. What also helped was performing admirably in combat and while climbing structures. Quick thinking in the former and taking time to plan your route in the latter result in less item waste, which helps you provide to the needy around you. Doing so gives the player extra retries, which allow Protagniste to begin from a recent checkpoint instead of restarting a chapter. I was not a big fan of managing checkpoints like a resource, but it wasn't the burden I was predicting. For those who are not as good at the combat puzzles and traversal, it might be a bane, especially if they hadn't managed to help those asking for it. But for someone like me who is better at puzzles than shooting, it was a friendly survival setup. I would encourage people to consider restarting a chapter instead of using a retry depending on how much ground or time was covered. The game keeps track of inventory, so if you started a chapter strong, the penalty is low.

It shouldn't come as a surprise that after the opening to the game, Protagoniste spends time trying to assist the lost little girl. However, the amount of time the game spends on helping her was unexpected. Though it's easy to complain that the game doesn't focus much on Protagoniste's efforts to find his own family, what transpires is ultimately believable. It is harder to fathom that a father desperate to locate his wife and daughter would allow a little girl to remain abandoned or in danger afterwards. It ultimately demonstrates an admirable amount of compassion, but much of what you're tasked with makes you seem like an errand boy, a common problem present in many games. Still, the story has a lot of heart and ultimately resonated with me. It's nice not to dislike any of the characters, including the child.

I do take mild umbrage with the ending, though. I'll start that argument by telling you the ending makes absolute sense. That isn't the problem. After completing the final mission, there are some obvious events that happened between then and the end that really should have been included in the game. It is tough to swallow the idea that the writers did this on purpose, and it appears this is one of the major victims of the troubled development cycle. That said, everything that gets you to the end is well-written, and investing time in the stories of the other survivors, however small, complements the experience. I also really like the declarative nature of the title. Rather than being cool or witty, it captures the nature of survival in three simple but bold words.

The Ritz-Carlton, this is not.

Presentation in I Am Alive offers mixed results. On one hand, the environments, especially the exteriors, can be striking. Dictated by the story, you'll travel around Haventon during various times of day, and one sequence near sunset also contains the most opportunities to view the ruined city against the horizon. Interiors are restrictive, as they should be, and the minimal lighting provided by infrequent light bulbs and bonfires works well to set mood and tone. Character and object models need more refinement, though. Up close, characters look a little off, and Protagoniste's hair is notably awkward and grungy. Also, some character models are used way too often. The items you find don't blend with their environments very well, white highlight notwithstanding. They just look too clean next to the areas surrounding them. In the sound department, sound effects and music are subtle and understated – not much to talk about there, but the voice acting is good.

I was reluctant to play I Am Alive because of what I read about the development and the mixed reviews. That said, I'm really glad I did. Despite lacking a resemblance to the disc-based blockbuster it was supposed to be, this is a great survival game that really requires wits and resourcefulness, sometimes being scarier than what passes for a survival horror game nowadays. If you want a great downloadable game with an amicably slower place compared to most AAA games, you can't really go wrong with I Am Alive. Despite the trauma of its troubled history, it has barely a scratch on it and no PTSD.

All images taken through Steam.