Destroy All Humans! Review

 (Originally published to Glitchwave on 10/14/2022)

[Image from igdb.com]

Destroy All Humans!

Developer: Pandemic

Publisher: THQ

Genre(s): Third-Person Shooter

Platforms: PS2, Xbox

Release Date: June 21, 2005

The 1950s were an overrated time in history. It was the first full post-war World War II decade that began the information age that we are still currently living in, marked by a greater emphasis on progressing social changes and the quality of human life once we maximized exploration and industry production in decades prior. The economic boom created by the impact of WWII ushered in an era of prosperity, and it seemed like the American dream had come true. Squeaky-clean, conservative values defined the idyllic society that the 1950s upheld: waspy nuclear families where dad wore a suit and tie to his 9 to 5, and mom stayed home all day making dad dinner and cleaning the house. At the same time, little Timmy played baseball with his friends, and little Susie played with her dolls. Not only was the American dream of the 1950s eerily pristine, but it was also boring. Even the leather-jacketed, rock-and-roll counterculture seems like a quaint facet of the decade, or maybe we have Fonzie to thank for making a mockery of it. To retain this halcyon society, the 1950s upheld a strong sense of conformity with zero leeway for any abstract thought or anything outside the very anglo-centric, heteronormative bubble encapsulating the decade. Extreme examples include the Red Scare and all of the anti-gay propaganda. Jim Crow segregation was still in full effect! Fortunately, we’ve progressed substantially past this point in our history. Because the ideals of the 1950s seem antiquated and corny, the decade is ripe for being made fun of. Five decades later, Destroy All Humans! serves as a lampoon of 1950’s culture in the medium of gaming.

In reality, the idealized society that 1950s America portrayed was a lie. One can’t forget that despite the picturesque facade, the dread of the Cold War permeated through the atmosphere. Americans expressed their fears of a looming alien threat through horror cinema. Instead of the gothic monsters that were a source of escapism for Americans during the 1930s, horror media transformed into the science-fiction latent horrors that projected our fears of burgeoning technology and the invaders that might possess it. Of course, the alien depictions seen in films were an embellishment. However, they did represent real-life anxieties. Destroy All Humans’ satirical scope takes the direction of tributing “atomic age” horror by setting up the premise of an alien invasion of Earth in the 1950s. The game’s high-concept science fiction plot is that an alien race from the far reaches of the galaxy called the Furons are running low on the genetic supply they use as fuel for their cloning devices, for their microscopic genitalia prevent them from reproducing sexually. They discover that Earth and its inhabitants possess a similar DNA, so Furon imperialist official Orthropox sends one of their warriors, Crypto Sporidium-136, down to earth to conduct a takeover of Earth and harvest their brain stems. Unfortunately for them, complications arise when Crypto goes AWOL, so his clone 137 is sent to find his whereabouts.

Of course, the films always assuaged everyone’s fears with their resolutions. Chaos ensues, and the city is in ruins, but at least the humans were always victorious over the invaders in the end. In the mid-2000s, however, there were no longer the sheltered sensibilities of the 1950s to abide by. The core difference between those films and Destroy All Humans is that the story is from the villainous perspective of the invaders, and Crypto is the playable protagonist. The heroic, defensive role of the humans seen in horror movies of the era is entirely flipped on its head. Surprisingly, this wasn’t just a subversive deviation of the atomic age horror film. So many video games featured human supersoldiers like Master Chief and Duke Nukem mowing down aliens as the Earth’s badass, benevolent protectors. As fun as spraying intergalactic monsters with a full magazine is, Grand Theft Auto taught gamers that there’s a certain thrill in being the bad guy. The player’s mission is not to save mankind from aliens but to bring them to their knees as their enemies.

To illustrate how easy it would be to usurp Earth from under the humans, the Furons have tasked the full-scale invasion with one soldier. Crypto Sporidium (or simply Crypto for brevity) may be patronized for his short stature and ignorantly referred to as the wrong color, but he’s not to be underestimated. If you didn’t know, his name is a direct reference to a parasite, an appropriate name for the small, malevolent threat he is. This one-man plague from outer space has nothing but anger and destruction behind those bulbous, amber eyes and fierce contempt behind his derisive sneer. He isn’t merely a pawn caught up in the imperialist interests of his species: he’s a scrappy little devil who revels in the carnage. Crypto also makes up for his gangly dwarfism with psychic powers that elevate his stature over any human being. His psychokinesis powers are the first of his abilities that the player gets to tinker with when holding down the left trigger. Holding people, animals, and vehicles in the air is both amusing and debasing enough, but the real thrill of the power comes with launching them across the map with the force of a sonic boom. The controls and point of the trajectory may not be as accurate or refined as, say, the Gravity Gun from Half-Life 2. Still, the overall execution of what the move is intended to do is functional, and the borderline broken ragdoll physics makes Crypto’s power seem more otherworldly. Crypto's other extraordinary powers are in the same left trigger menu as psychokinesis. Pressing the circle button while targeting someone will activate the “holobob,” and Crypto will take the holographic form of that person to blend in with the crowd. The disguise seems shoddily transparent to me, but I think its effectiveness is intended to drive the point that people are stupidly unobservant. If Crypto’s ruse is compromised, he can hypnotize people to create a distraction, usually making them do some dance or impersonate Elvis Presley. He can also bend people's will with the same action to make them sometimes do his bidding. Out of all these abilities, the most shocking is the “extract” option which sees Crypto expending a lot of his mental energy to pop someone’s head like a grape as their mucus-covered brain ejects itself from their body with a visceral squelchy sound. Crypto’s abilities, especially the last one, are the stuff of nightmares.

If all of Crypto’s innate abilities don’t sound exciting (or terrifying) enough, he’s also got a whole host of cosmic weapons in his arsenal. Destroy All Humans only offers four firearms for Crypto that are acquired one by one as the game progresses, but they cover all the bases. The player will first become acquainted with the Zap-O-Matic, which expels a violent current of pure electricity as the target(s) convulse in screaming agony. It makes a taser gun look like a hand buzzer by comparison. If the player is looking to dispose of people more quickly, the fiery blast of the Disintegrator Ray will reduce them to nothing but their skeleton, which will turn to ash and blow away with the wind. The remote-triggered grenade launcher called the Ion Detonator achieves the same effect as the Disintegrator Ray but with a blast radius that dissipates the molecular structure of several people along with vehicles. The anal probe involves charging up a shot of some green goop that will burrow inside a human and make them clutch their asscheeks while sprinting before their head explodes. It’s not a practical weapon for combat, but retrieving the brain stem in a fresher state instead of extracting it after death will net Crypto more DNA currency. Crypto’s saucer expands an already deadly array of weaponry to biblical proportions. The four weapons available for the spacecraft mirror the four Crypto uses on foot but on a greater scale of destruction. The Death Ray is held down until the gauge runs out like the Zap-O-Matic, but unleashes a red hot beam of energy. The explosive Sonic Boom and Quantum Deconstructors have the same relationship as the Disintegrator Ray, and the Ion Detonator in that one is the lighter, more plentiful version of the other. The saucer also features an Abducto Beam that grabs vehicles and suspends them in midair, but this is more for novelty than for anything useful. With so many ways to annihilate, Crypto’s versatility makes him an incredibly thrilling character to play as.

While the humans are outmatched against Crypto, they refuse to go down without a fight. We’re the dominant species on this planet for a reason, and our tenacity in the face of danger is certainly a fraction of that reason. After too many screams and shoutings of “little green men''(!!!), the cavalry will come to dispose of Crypto with all the firepower they’ve got. However, the severity of defense ranges depending on Crypto’s presence. It’s here where Destroy All Humans explicitly borrows from GTA, as the alert levels mirror those from that series. The blue exclamation point signifies that Crypto had been spotted if people's yelps and derogatory comments didn’t already give the player that hint. The anguished cries of the people will then alert the police, then the army, which includes tank infantry. The last alert level involves the black-suit-wearing federal agents known as the Majestic, who will ambush Crypto with futuristic, government-grade guns and pile up their black cars in the road like a New Jersey tailgate. Every faction will accumulate with one another to aid in an all-out war against Crypto, with heat-seeking missile launchers taking the skies if Crypto uses his saucer. It escalates to total pandemonia, like in any atomic-age horror film.

The scale of blowback from the humans coinciding with the alert levels also depends on where Crypto is causing a disturbance. Six areas serve as the levels of Destroy All Humans, all on American soil, with an eclectic variety to showcase the amplitude of this great nation. All six levels are also themed around areas where aliens are typically known to invade from the lore of science fiction films and loony conspirators. Each subsequent level also gets progressively more chaotic and increases the presence of their defenses. The first level is the humdrum Turnipseed Farm, an appropriate genesis point for the game considering crop circles on farms are noted as the first indications of alien sightings, and the remote nature of it makes for a less jumbled tutorial level. Rockwell's small, middle-America town is an obvious nod to Roswell, and Santa Modesta ditches the country rubes for middle-class, white picket-fenced “Leave it to Beaver-land” suburbanites. Area 42 signals a stark shift of severity as the obvious parody-sanctioned nod to Area 51 consists of nothing but soldiers, Majestic agents, and giant defense robots that stomp around the grounds. The last area, Capital City, is essentially Washington D.C. with another name. The defenses in America’s capital are naturally as vigilant and combative as vaccine antibodies, and Crypto is the virus. The hazy port of Union Town is a place in between Area 42 and the capital that somewhat fits the progression, with everything from schmucks, socialites, and agents running around. All these areas are unique, yet a part of me wishes that they expanded past the USA.

Of course, featuring levels in other countries would be counterintuitive to the game's satirical substance. America makes up the entire map of the game because America was the only place that mattered in the xenophobic 1950s. In fact, the people aren’t running away from Crypto because he’s an alien from outer space. Their fears stem from confusing him for a Ruskie communist who “wants to destroy our way of life,” as a hysterical joe-schmoe character on the street will exclaim. The ignorant irony of the situation is the crux of the satire and while the parallels seem all too obvious, Destroy All Humans is still one of the funniest games I’ve ever played. One of my favorite things to do in the game is using the holobob disguise and reading the minds of the people out on the town. Plus, it’s the only way to extend the mirage by refueling Crypto’s mind power gauge. It conjures up the hypothetical scenario of Twitter being around in the 1950s with inane yet illuminating thoughts ranging from character-specific stereotypes and ersatz homosexual desires to cultural references and intentional anachronisms. No matter whose mind Crypto is reading, every thought is just as funny as the next. An exceptional aspect that boosts the humor is the stellar voice acting. Besides all the screaming the general humans do, the expressiveness and tonality of their speaking voices are perfect for encapsulating the clueless, old-world airheadedness of 1950’s American citizens depicted in films from this time. Why are the cops in every American town Irish? Because it sounds funny. Also, the Dragnet-sounding way the Majestic agents speak always cracks me up. Richard Horvitz performs an over-the-top version of his Invader Zim voice with the maniacal Pox, and the shameless Jack Nicholson impression makes Crypto’s voice delightful. The banter between the two is especially humorous with their contrasting vocal cadences.

With all of its positive aspects in mind, why isn’t Destroy All Humans as well regarded as Grand Theft Auto or any of the other games from the PS2 era where the player plays as morally reprehensible protagonists? Sadly, Destroy All Humans is marred with more mistakes and questionable features than I remember. Besides a few unattractive graphical glitches, the game doesn’t foster freedom as well as it should. Destroy All Humans is ostensibly a stealth game, and not just in particular situations in missions. A Grand Theft Auto protagonist has to cause chaos to prompt a heavy-duty SWAT team to come after him, but all Crypto has to do is simply be around the humans minding his own business. The alert level will still increase drastically without even touching a hair on any human’s head. This, coupled with the high number of defensive factions firing at Crypto at all angles, makes later levels insufferable to roam around. All the while, earlier levels like Turnipseed Farm and Rockwell are too quiet, making Santa Modesta the only choice level for free roaming. It doesn’t help that if Crypto dies, the player is escorted back to the main menu of the Mothership. Narratively, this is because Crypto has to be cloned again here after dying, but it makes for a tedious demerit for the player. Crypto also can’t last too long in the later stages because he’s far too fragile. Granted, Crypto shouldn’t be too well-equipped, considering all of his offensive advantages, so then why does the game offer upgrades? On the Mothership, Pox sells upgrades in exchange for a certain amount of DNA. Everything except Crypto’s health can be upgraded, and this is something he desperately needs. The stampede of everything will kill Crypto in seconds if he doesn’t run away, and that’s simply not in character. Even the fall damage taken from falling too far after the jetpack craps out depletes much of Crypto’s health for comfort. I do not want to feel like a sitting duck while playing as a decked-out space invader.

The game also has an erratic sense of pacing. Most people claim that Destroy All Humans becomes far too difficult as the game progresses, but I disagree that it’s due to the missions. The mission difficulty curve is incredibly wonky, with middle-game missions like the stealthy escort mission “Duck and Cover” causing so much grief and Capital City missions like “The Furon Filibuster” being so underwhelmingly simple. The length of these missions throughout the game also ranges drastically, with some missions having six different objectives and some having a measly one. Longer missions also seem to be employed just to make the mission a test of endurance. The last mission in the Capital, “Attack of the 50-Foot President,” is only considered difficult by the masses because of the cheap extension of two different boss fights without checkpoints. Individually, the executive monster android with the president’s brain and Silhouette, the female leader of the Majestic, wouldn’t have drawn any frustration because they’re both unimpressive boss fights. The same goes for the fight against General Armquist, which is just a more durable robot enemy. I think the developers tried their best to expedite the story so the player could return to killing people of their own volition, but I’ve already expressed the complications with this.

Destroy All Humans! sounds like the greatest game ever on paper. The premise of playing as a sadistic little alien bastard invading the Earth and firing down a bombardment of death and destruction should’ve made for one of the greatest games of all time, and it was a favorite among my friends and me when it came out because of the amount of mayhem we could make. As an adult, I now appreciate other facets of the game, like its humorous dialogue and the spoofing of 1950s culture that flew over my head when I was younger. Unfortunately, I can’t appreciate this game as much as I did when it was released, and this isn’t due to being spoiled by gaming’s progress as a medium. Destroy All Humans doesn’t feel as free as similar games from its era, and the spotty campaign could’ve used a little more love and care. Even for its glaring faults, Destroy All Humans! still manages to be a good source of maniacal, misanthropic fun.