I really liked Deus Ex: Human Revolution. It consumed me in a way that few games do, with its exciting world of side quests and mysteries and its cool cyberpunk aesthetic. So I was very, very excited about it's sequel - Mankind Divided.
I bought the game the second it came out and finished it last week. It's been an enjoyable experience, if not quite as absorbing as its predecessor. Storywise it is nowhere near as coherent - I finished the game without being 100% sure exactly how the world was different now I'd killed a bunch of cybernetic bad guys. But I did enjoy killing them. So I suppose that's a success of sorts.
Hacked
My absolute favourite thing to do was to hack security terminals and turn turrets and robots against their own masters. I found this hilarious and did it as often as possible. I don't think the game AI allowed them to respond any differently that they would to a regular attack, but my imagination added a layer of surprise, betrayal and indignation to the faces of the guards as their previously trusted robotic friends started to blast away at them.
So it's been a good experience. But I found the world slightly less involving, for some reason. A lot of work has gone into making future Prague feel real. The NPC dialogue is pretty good and gives a flavour of how it must be to live a normal life in the world that I charge excitedly through. The computers, all of which I hack into, are full of interesting, world building stories.
But there's something missing, and I'm not sure what it is. Maybe it's that part of me knows that all these details - all these wine shops and carefully decorated apartments - are just a pleasing aesthetic veneer over the real stuff of the game. I want to hack door locks, find secret passages, disable security cameras and - crucially - fight guards. That's where the game play is.
No hard feelings
No-one is ever going to ask me if I care about the woman in apartment 23 whose husband got artificial augments against her wishes. It's not really going to feed into the story proper, except at a vague, thematic level. It's not gameplay, so part of me discards it. A sniper rifle, on the other hand, fills me with joy.
I don't always feel like this with games, so I'm not sure what it is.
Today I stood outside a burrito shop, in real life, waiting for it to open. I watched the people passing by. A big guy in a hoodie. Five young lads, probably in college. A bunch of University students. A shuffling guy, likely homeless, searching empty bags on benches. All people with stories and lives and agendas of their own. All of whom would react in different, astonishing ways if I so much as spoke to them.
Meanwhile the inhabitants of future Prague brush me off whenever I click a contextual prompt in an attempt to interact. They say their pre-programmed phrase, and turn away, to stare at the same thing they were staring at before. If I start to throw grenades about, they will cower and cry, but only for a while. Then they'll go back to their staring, motionless lives. I saw one man weeing into a urinal for the entire time I was knocking out guards behind his back. He never stopped, and he never will.
Salsa, cheese and sour cream
I wonder if there can be a game where Adam Jensen can buy a burrito. Where it can be as meaningful as my experience, choosing the salsa, the guacamole, the sour cream - not because it will inflate my health bar, but because I want it for its own sake. Because it's nice. Could a game make me do things for genuine pleasure, rather than through mechanics? There are some that come close, maybe.
I'm going to eat my burrito now. The matter will convert into energy to keep me going. The taste will activate pleasure centres in my brain, raising my mood. I also got another point on my loyalty card when I bought it.
But it's different. Isn't it?
No comments:
Post a Comment