Thursday, June 20, 2024

Half-Life 2 Review

 (Originally published to Glitchwave on 6/1/2024)













[Image from glitchwave.com]


Half-Life 2

Developer: Valve

Publisher: Sierra

Genre(s): First-Person Shooter

Platforms: PC

Release Date: November 16, 2004


“Rise and shine, Mr. Freeman. Rise and shine. Not that I wish to imply that you’ve been sleeping on the job. No one is more deserving of a rest, and all the effort in the world would’ve gone to waste until…well, let’s just say your hour has come again. The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world. So, wake up, Mr. Freeman. Wake up and…smell the ashes…”

For as monumental a game as the first Half-Life was, it’s astounding how its 2004 sequel, Half-Life 2, has completely eclipsed its impact. Lest we forget how groundbreaking and influential the first Half-Life’s innovations were not only to the FPS genre, but how it indelibly affected the entire gaming zeitgeist that will persist until the heat death of the universe. If one witnesses a game with seamless cutscenes, a linear progression path where the breaks between them are but brief loading screens, exuding a bleak atmosphere in an organic, somewhat plausible environment, one can infer that the game has an umbilical cord stemming from Half-Life feeding it inspirational nutrients. However, upon poking and prodding a developer in an attempt to force them into fessing up on the extent of how much they’ve borrowed from Valve’s visionary masterwork, they’ll never cite it as where their direction for their project initially sparked. Despite how ungrateful and downright transparent this might seem without the proper context, they’ll actually refer to Half-Life 2 as their muse every time. After all, the unique idiosyncrasies that Half-Life pioneered didn’t catch on until Half-Life 2’s release, and many of its followers proved to be some of the era-defining titles of their generation. Why does Half-Life 2 receive the credit for Valve’s revolutionary accomplishments when we can all clearly see that its predecessor was the title that furnished all of these ingenious attributes? To be quite frank, the simple reason is that Half-Life 2 is exceptionally better than the game from which it's inheriting its genetic material. Many gamers believe that the extent of Half-Life 2’s superiority is so immense that it renders the first game obsolete, a beta test merely displaying all of the innovative strides in their fetal form before launching them to prime time with the sequel. I, for one, am not this overzealous in displacing Half-Life 2 over Valve’s previous output despite my shared opinion that it triumphs over it in every possible manner. Both are distinctive enough to warrant existing on their own merits. However, Half-Life 2 excels in every single mechanical aspect of the game that plotted out the Half-Life formula, so it’s no wonder why the general public lauds it as Valve’s crowning contribution to gaming.

Half-Life 2’s status as a direct sequel is muddied enough that it’s really up to the player’s own interpretation. Yes, everyone can plainly see that the events of Half-Life 2 transpire after the first game with a cause-and-effect kind of correlation. However, the question that the game leaves suspended in the air of loose ambiguity is how suddenly this game begins after the first one ends. Half-Life 2’s introductory image mirrors the concluding sequence that finished the previous game: the shifty, enigmatic G-Man monologues to Gordon Freeman about his indispensable role in the impending chaos and disorder that will render this world in a state of ruin. Or, Gordon’s onus to ameliorate the collapse that has befallen it already. This ethereal, transient character acts as the conjunctive tendon that connects the distinct narratives of the two games. What piqued my curiosity was the bridge of inactivity wedged between both of them. As claimed in his opening statement, the G-Man isn’t suggesting that Gordon has been slacking on his duties. Still, there is a hint of idleness to Gordon’s status regarding his proactive efforts to the cause, whatever that may be. Is this sequel the “next assignment” that the G-Man alluded to at the very end of the first game, imploring him to teleport to it via a green portal? Is it a cheeky meta-comment on how the players themselves have been inoperative in controlling Gordon because of a six-year development period between the two titles? Whatever the true implications behind the G-Man’s oblique words are, the player can definitely see that an inordinate amount of time has passed since the last Half-Life game after his ominous preamble finishes and Gordon snaps back to reality.

Instead of being taken on a tram ride through a sightseeing tour, Half-Life 2’s approach of introducing the player to its setting and letting them marinate in its tone is a tad more manual. After the public transit stops, an eyesore video broadcast of a gray-haired man in brown business attire informs Gordon that a place called City 17 is his destination. Gordon’s exit trajectory out of the metro station has the unenthusiastic, wistful pacing of escorting incoming prisoners to their maximum security cells, or even cattle with the awareness that they’re being led to the slaughter. It could be the fact that the NPCs that are on the same pathway as Gordon don muted blue jumpsuits, and the stationed, uniformed men wearing gas masks conduct the flow of arrivals with the curt assertiveness of prison guards. We formally understand the orderly scope of this sequence when Gordon diverts from his intended path and the masked officers beeline up one of the city’s dilapidated apartment complexes to forcefully apprehend him. Once Gordon gets backed into a corner and one of these figures has the opportunity to concuss him, one of them surprisingly returns the favor to Gordon’s assailant and then leads him into a safer area. Gordon’s savior is a man named Barney who has been masquerading as one of the guards as a spy for the “resistance,” a group of people that Gordon must get acquainted with as soon as possible.

If there was any lingering doubt as to whether or not Black Mesa or the American government successfully contained the resonance cascade that catalyzed the events of the first game, Half-Life 2’s introduction firmly instills the fact that they failed miserably. The hostile alien threat that was at least endemic to the interior of the laboratory’s expansive walls ostensibly became too rampant to brush under the rug. It seeped into the floorboards of the collective earthly society to the point where the flood of alien influence has washed away its democratic constitution. As one would have predicted, the extraterrestrial species of Xen have exerted their superior strength and bevy of intergalactic resources to enslave the human race and are subjugating them under a dystopian dictatorship. Surprisingly enough, the face of this fascist dominion isn’t any of the warped, grotesque visages the developers could’ve conjured up from Xen. The despicable human host of the authoritarian regime that the player definitely at least glanced at from the jumbotron screen on their arrival is Wallace Breen, the former head administrator of Black Mesa who is using his administrative acumen to enlarge the scope of his position of power as the omnipotent human ruler of Earth. Yes, not one former sovereign union: the entire fucking world. Breen is both the highest bidder and the highest buyer for his home planet, negotiating with the Combine’s imperialistic terms and landing the role as the sole human beneficiary. This massive paradigm shift that shook the Earth to its core should appropriately be documented with the same comprehensive detail of both world wars and presented to Gordon/the player in a crash course of exposition to catch them up since they’ve been absent. However, even with Half-Life’s world drastically turned on its head since we saw it last, the game chooses to illustrate the havoc that occurred strictly through subtle world-building. Exactly how the Combine expropriated Earth as one of their intergalactic assets is uncertain, but we certainly get the visual impression that their efforts in the acquisition were catastrophic. Topographically, we can discern that “City 17” couldn’t be the grounds of former New Mexico where Black Mesa once stood because of the coastal highway and leafless, skinny oak trees instead of cacti interspersed between arid canyons. The district that Gordon finds himself traversing through exudes something akin to the Eastern Bloc: the cold, ruinous urban remnants of communism’s deleterious effects done to former Soviet Union Europe. Or, it could be the recurring presence of Combine agitprop strewn around, with the most shameless and laughably deceiving image being a graffiti art of a Combine soldier gently cradling a helpless human infant in its arms. Come to think of it, it doesn’t matter what area of the world is now referred to as “City 17” because the blank, numerical title of this district implies that every corner of the earth has been reduced to a series of arbitrary numbers organized by the Combine. Any and all culture has been eradicated and the potential for human prosperity is rendered totally impotent. The first Half-Life’s mood was one of tension and fear, with the prevailing anxiety of how the situation could get worse. Half-Life 2 is the affirmation of those worries come to fruition, and the excruciating weight of the Combine’s oppression leaves the general aura in a deep depression.

Even though Half-Life 2’s atmosphere conveys the impression that all hope is lost, this doesn’t halt the efforts of the resistance to overthrow Dr. Breen and his interstellar benefactors. The experience of ascending upwards from Black Mesa’s buried test chambers was a lonely excursion, and a factor of why Gordon seemed like a lone wolf on his undertaking was that every one of the NPCs was static, copy-pasted character tropes. Besides the City 17 commoners wearing their prisoner uniforms who are scared shitless of their Combine oppressors, the ones brave enough to rebel are an eclectic cast of personable characters. Firstly, a peculiarity between all of the distinctive NPCs is that they were all apparently former Black Mesa alumni who remember the day when the resonance cascade disrupted Earth’s balance indefinitely as lucidly as Gordon. For the player, what should be relieving interactions with Gordon’s former colleagues are a slew of those awkward instances of someone pressing you to remember meeting them from a party or another instance of a brief, casual interaction and they were too unimpressionable to recall. The connection I’ve made to clear the hazy confusion of reacquaintance is that the ex-Black Mesa members of the resistance militia are fleshed-out, concrete 2.0 versions of the few common NPCs surrounding the facility's perimeter. Barney is the canonical name of the pistol-wielding security guard that I once dubbed as “Security Steve,” having a rapport with Gordon as casual and agreeable as his plucky former role would dictate. Dr. Isaac Kleiner is the white Black Mesa scientist while Eli Vance is the African-American version of the scholarly men dressed in white lab coats. However, the contrast between Eli’s laid-back, cool personality and the eccentric Kleiner displays a deeper characterization beyond what was a racial color swap for the same role. My favorite essential character in the fight against the Combine does not vaguely resemble any of the avatar NPCs of the first game, for Black Mesa’s glass ceiling was evidently too bulletproof for any woman to penetrate. Or, Eli Vance’s daughter, Alyx Vance, was far too young at the time of Black Mesa’s prime and is now a capable young lady on the same scale of mechanical expertise as her dear old dad. Alyx is intelligent, athletic, adept with firearm precision, and maintains a balance between her father’s collected demeanor with her impassioned fire to dismantle the Combine’s grip on the Earth and avenge her departed mother by proxy. For my money, she’s a textbook example of an admirable depiction of women in gaming. However, even with all of her strong and nuanced characteristics, a crop of gamers are still going to take advantage of the seamless nature of the cutscenes as an ample opportunity to stare at her ass whenever she’s assisting Gordon or making conversation. Don’t leave me hanging, fellas: if I can admit it, so can you. Regardless if the NPCs are vague old friends or fresh faces to all parties involved, they all beam with absolute delight when they cross paths with Gordon. Man, this world must truly be in dire straits if this bespectacled schlub is being given the star-studded treatment comparable to Brad Pitt on the red carpet. Then again, Gordon was the Black Mesa MVP who took it upon himself to travel to Xen and slay their leader, so perhaps the little faith his presence provides goes a long way in such destitute times. If Gordon can’t do it, no one can, so he better perform a miracle for the sake of the human race.

However, another new female NPC that isn’t giddy to get Gordon’s autograph is the prickly, stern scientist Judith Mossman, who awaits Gordon in the makeshift, grassroots Black Mesa East location alongside Eli Vance. The experimental teleportation process from Kleiner’s lab works wonders on Alyx, but Kleiner’s castrated pet headcrab, Lamarr, tinkers with the machine while Gordon is strapped in the chamber. Kleiner can detach the creature’s mind-control claw, but he can’t neuter it enough to the point where it's entirely docile. As a result of the headcrab’s mischief, Gordon must travel to the remote base of resistance operations on foot and brave the Combine opposition. Once Barney gives Gordon back his trusty crowbar to defend himself, the languid introductory pacing of the first two chapters is disrupted and the game’s action is kicked into high gear from here on out. The third chapter was also when the first Half-Life stripped off its patient, quasi-cinematic initiative and revealed its high-octane FPS bearings underneath. Half-Life 2 still retains the uneven pacing structures of each individual chapter, with some like “Black Mesa East” serving as expositional midpoints in the narrative and the “Water Hazard” chapter leading up to Gordon’s arrival to Eli Vance’s hideout feeling incredibly long-winded. However, where Half-Life 2 evolves from the repeated format of pacing that the first game established is that every chapter, no matter its length, is all killer with no filler to be found. Instances such as the ball and chain strain of “On a Rail” and the inappropriately platforming-intensive “Residue Processing” are thankfully not repeated. Half-Life 2 maintains its engaging momentum by broadening and diversifying the scope of each chapter’s setting since the series is no longer confined to the premises of Black Mesa and its vast, yet interiorly restricted corporate corridors. Playing as Gordon Freeman has never felt so badass than in “Route Kanal,” painting the streets parallel to a series of storm drains and sewage systems red with the blood of the Combine police unit in what is speedily paced like a Max Payne game. Ice-T would send Gordon flowers and a “thank you” card if he could. The two chapters where Gordon infiltrates the abandoned prison turned Combine detainment center, Nova Prospekt, also exudes the adrenalized rush of FPS combat when Gordon pumps rounds upon rounds of steaming hot lead into the Combine security guards. Storming the streets of City 17 with Gordon’s fellow comrades in the resistance is equally as epic, but it's most unfortunate that the squad of allies that “Follow Freeman” are as useless as tits on a barnacle. “Water Hazard” and “Highway 17” showcase an evolved understanding of the vehicle accompaniment gimmick that “On a Rail” presented for a buggy and motorboat respectively, and there isn’t any doubt as to whether these vehicles are transporting Gordon or if he’s transporting them.

The chapter in Half-Life 2 that best encompasses the FPS thrills in what is the game’s most disparate and insulated setting is “We Don’t Go To Ravenholm,” a setback alternate route Gordon must undergo in which its foreboding title is a preempted quote from Alyx. Excuse me, Alyx, but what’s this “we” shit? I will proactively take this pathway back up to the City 17 train tracks of my own volition, thank you very much. Similarly to the town of Silent Hill, the ominous name of this secluded former mining town has me guessing whether it was always named this or if it was dubbed thee after it became a horrific cesspit. Alternatively, it could be the zoning project name given by Dr. Breen to clear the headcrab zombie refuse out of City 17 to gentrify the downtown section of the city, or at least what constitutes gentrification in his eyes. This spooky burg where it is perpetually the hour of the wolf is congested with headcrabs and their grizzly, reanimated host bodies galore. The sole exception to Ravenholm’s homogenous population is an intact human being named Father Grigori, a bald priest who perceives his misfortune circumstances here as his divine occupation assigned by God, something he compares to a “shepherd tending to his flock.” His manic laughter and zombie blood lust connote that he’s not taking his situation in stride as it seems, but at least he’s stable enough to politely escort Gordon through Ravenholm’s vacant buildings and dim back alleys of the damned. Ravenholm might discard the clever horror subtleties that both the first Half-Life and this game normally sprinkle into the prevailing tone of despair. Still, this condemned reminder of the resonance cascade’s worst effects on human society provides the pinnacle of Half-Life 2 level design, pacing, and overall fun factor. Ravenholm is one of my favorite levels across any video game I’ve played.

Speaking of Ravenholm’s infestation of headcrab zombies, some of Xen’s invaders that Gordon subdued right out of the resonance cascade have evidently gone extinct since their arrival on Earth. Instead of providing the creatively diverse arrangement of aliens as the first game did, only a few of the extraterrestrial beasts were deemed worthy of returning. The Combine haven’t found a solution to rid the world of the pesky headcrab scourge, and Gordon will still have to watch out for yard-length tongues that drape from City 17 ceilings ready to consume him whole and spit his skull out onto the pavement. Sure, the vortigaunts are seen still walking around, but returning players may be confused when Gordon is forced to lower his weapons whenever one of these gangly aliens is in their sights. Since the events of the resonance cascade, this common enemy type has been domesticated by the humans and is now in allegiance with the resistance due to their peasant status as wageless working-class slaves. They can now articulate themselves in fluent English, albeit with their own mannerisms like referring to Gordon as “the Freeman,” and they now channel their once-deadly finger energy into restoring Gordon’s armor. I almost feel inclined to apologize to them for slaughtering hundreds of them upon exiting the portal to Earth. As charmed as I am to now call the vortigaunts my friends, their assimilation into the resistance is a disconcerting reminder that the Combine have raised the stakes of the alien threat.

While the headcrabs and barnacles seem to be the remaining hostile species from Xen, Half-Life 2’s method of diversifying the enemy variety is splitting the few recurring enemies into different shades. For example, the familiar headcrabs have two new variations: a skinnier, lighter one that scurries around like a rat and a tar-black one that shrieks loudly and whose venomous bite will deplete Gordon’s health down to a single digit. Don’t worry, his HEV suit will drain the venom and gradually restore his health to its pre-poisoned status, provided he doesn’t sustain more damage while the affliction is still flowing in his bloodstream. On top of having to contend with altering forms of headcrabs, each of them also coincides with a new zombified body to latch onto and possess. Besides the lumbering, moaning headcrab zombies that became of Black Mesa’s casualties, the quicker headcrab will transform its deceased host into a savage, feral zombie that sprints at Gordon and claws him like a wild panther. The darker headcrab engulfs its victims in numbers, providing a burly shield around them as it flings its headcrab protectors onto Gordon like a disgusting vagrant flicking its scabs. The same schematic of enemy diversification also applies in the exact same fashion with the Combine troopers. The street patrol wearing white gas masks carry pistols and are the easiest to dispatch. Once Gordon exits Ravenholm and finds himself on the shores of City 17, the Combine soldiers that await him wear sturdier, padded armor. Lastly, the ones wearing a monochromatically white suit are less durable than their greyer affiliates but will launch a ball of pure energy from their weapons that will deal severe damage to all it catches in its ricocheting path. The new outlier enemy that only comes in one form are the antlions, wildcat-sized insectoid creatures that only attack Gordon if he compounds the disturbance of the Combine fracking of their sandy domain with the rumbling of his footsteps. I’m not certain whether the little flying units armed with razors that the City 17 commoners refer to as “man hacks” constitute as enemies or if they’re auxiliary tools unleashed by Combine soldiers. If you’re not convinced and still think you’ll grow weary of shooting the same kinds of enemies despite their slight deviations, the two central enemy types also exude far more personality than any of the aliens the developers have omitted. The wails from a headcrab zombie, when they are set ablaze, are morbidly hilarious, and the Combine sniper exclaiming “shit!” when Gordon lobs a grenade from their roost is a moment I wish I could endlessly rewind.

Carrying over the weapons from the first Half-Life game is also approached by making some cuts to the roster. The obligatory FPS weapons contractually transition over, which of course includes the handgun, shotgun, machine gun, and the sparsely replenished revolver with some serious kick. While they function the same, slight consideration of the amplitude of the shotgun was all this close-ranged firearm needed to change from a tepid disappointment to my standby weapon of choice. The crossbow will skewer Combine to billboards and other fixtures, and the super effective tau cannon is now a fixture of the buggy vehicle so Gordon doesn’t have to collect Combine blood on the front bumper. As delighted as I am that every returning weapon is utilized efficiently and there is no inverted aiming control to acclimate to, I cannot express the same fondness for the rocket launcher. The destructive RPG now comes with heat-seeking missiles, but the chance that they’ll hit the intended target is still a roll of the dice. They’re the only one of Gordon’s weapons efficacious enough to blow the Combine gunships out of the sky, and at least limitless ammo caches are situated around the gunship’s spawn points. Still, the best-case scenario is that the gunships will shoot the oncoming missile down, and the worst is that it will bounce back at Gordon and kill him instantly. The bugbait is in essence the same weapon as the snark, only now it bewitches antlions already found on the field into doing Gordon’s bidding by throwing it to sic them onto Combine soldiers or heeding to Gordon’s location. God only knows the odor of the pheromone this thing emits when Gordon squeezes it. Besides the automatic Combine assault weapon of the pulse rifle, the array of new toys to play with is rather unimpressive. That is, unless you disregard Half-Life 2’s prized, tour de force of offense as a weapon because it doesn’t need ammunition to function. When Gordon finally makes his rendezvous in Black Mesa East, Alyx welcomes him by giving him the latest and greatest in futuristic technology: the Gravity Gun. Before Gordon has to skedaddle on through Ravenholm when the Combine intercepts the location of the resistance’s hideout, Gordon tests this glowing, orange claw by playing fetch with Alyx’s iron giant, canine-brained guardian simply named “Dog.” In addition to every other outstanding aspect of Ravenholm, the amount of detritus scattered about that Gordon can utilize with the Gravity Gun is a sizable fraction of this area’s spectacular quality. Saw blades, barrels, detached car doors, and every conceivable piece of furniture can be pulled into the tractor beam and pushed violently onto enemies at the same deadly velocity as a bullet, with controls so simple that a monkey could operate it (but we’re glad that one isn’t). Not only does the Gravity Gun tap into an alluring sense of curiosity because it has no precursors, recycling what are usually objects of no significance as vital ammunition is a brilliantly economic way of conserving ammo for all other tools in one’s arsenal, ensuring the player is never rendered defenseless. You know how emphatically I fawn over the Metal Blade from Mega Man 2? The Gravity Gun is the 21st-century 3D gaming equivalent of the Metal Blade with its unmitigated awesomeness and unsurpassable glory.

Of course, something like the Gravity Gun would still prove to be impractical if Valve didn’t exceed yet another boundary of gaming mechanics with an unrivaled, ultramodern physics engine. Valve’s contemporaries were far too occupied attempting to advance gaming’s visuals to match the fidelity of film or real life, while Valve was focused on progressing how video games could emulate Newton’s laws that define how the real physical world abides. The Gravity Gun’s pull and push functionality is a marvelous example of witnessing real physical phenomena in action, a general smoothness with hints of wobbly movement natural for objects being manipulated by a gravitational force. Drop a household object like a soda can or a comb onto the floor from a reasonable distance and compare the way the object reacts in the fall to how Gordon unhands things in Half-Life 2, and you’ll be astonished at how mirrored both instances will be. Half-Life 2’s physics engine also makes executing enemies uproariously entertaining, as Combine soldiers will sometimes die in such animated fashions that it borders on slapstick comedy. Under the surface-level appeal of ragdoll deaths and other instances of sheer amusement, Valve cleverly utilizes their killer app with some genuinely engaging physics puzzles. One may not think that stacking cinder blocks on a plank of wood to balance it on one side so Gordon can jump onto a steep platform or collecting washing machines to meet the weight requirement for a gate would be as stimulating as mowing down Combine, but us gamers were mesmerized at these puzzles when this game was released. Furthermore, Half-Life 2 also manages to blow every other game out of the water in graphical detail anyway. All the City 17 grime is still prettier than any other game released in the same year.

For as unorthodox a weapon as the Gravity Gun is, it eventually becomes the exclusive means of offense once Gordon finds an underground passage into Dr. Breen’s citadel, a thousand-story spire situated in the center of City 17 so soaring that it impales the atmospheric barrier between Earth and space. The automated security checkpoint at the citadel’s forcefield gate disintegrates everything in Gordon’s arsenal, but the antimatter reaction somehow fuses with the intact Gravity Gun and upgrades the might of the device where it can dislodge monitors bolted to the walls and roll through Combine soldiers like bowling pins. This all-powerful apparatus makes the player feel impenetrable, and it’s exactly what Gordon needs to intimidate Dr. Breen in his quarters. But first, Gordon must rescue Eli Vance from his constrictive contraption and confront Judith Mossman for her treacherous double-agent activity working for Dr. Breen. I guess girls do go crazy for a sharp-dressed man, or maybe they’re likely to submit to the will of the man who holds one hundred percent of the executive power in the world. Instead of deploying more Combine guards to rid Gordon from his office, Dr. Breen treats this scene as a Black Mesa family reunion and expresses that he’d like to establish a working relationship with Gordon and the others akin to their positions in their former place of employment. Obviously, Gordon doesn’t cede to this megalomaniac’s bullshit, and Dr. Breen attempts to escape the citadel when Gordon denies his offer. Breen’s final act is attempting to escape the citadel by entering the portal that leads to the Combine’s homeworld, where he will stay with no way to contact him. By using the boosted power of the Gravity Gun, Half-Life 2’s climactic point is a series of tossing energy balls that flow from the radiating silos near the citadel's peak, with a couple of gunships to distract Gordon from his goal of thwarting Breen’s permanent departure. Some may complain that this hardly counts as a final boss because there is no herculean foe to conquer, but they should remind themselves how excruciatingly resilient the Nihilanth was and be thankful that this final challenge is over quickly if the player is timely enough. After all, having the celebratory feeling of victory halted by a deathly explosion affecting our two heroes, which is then frozen by the G-Man, is certainly fitting as a climax in a Half-Life game, wouldn’t you say?

I don’t even know where to begin listing Half-Life 2’s phenomenal accomplishments. I inadvertently started to claim that they were underserved at the start of this review as if the first Half-Life was the entry that truly deserved the acclaim. I may have wrongfully implied that its successor takes the credit because it translates all of its innovations into a game with sharper visuals and more quality-of-life enhancements. While this is still true, one can plainly see that Half-Life 2 had a plethora of its own radical ideas that it wanted to execute, and these innovations are as numerous as the first games. Never before has any video game mechanically felt this vibrant and immersive in the sense of branching virtual kineticism to real-life physics. For as dismal and dirty as the world depicted in Half-Life 2 is, I've rarely experienced a game that felt so lively with buoyant characters, shooting gameplay, and world immersion. If the Half-Life games were two of Thomas Edison’s inventions, the first game would be the phonograph, and this one would be the lightbulb. Both are revolutionary in their own right, but we still use the same method of illuminating a room as Edison's original model to this day. Half-Life 2 isn’t just a next-generation leap for Gordon Freeman’s story: it’s a benchmark that arguably ushered in the modern era of gaming.

Monday, June 10, 2024

Perfect Dark Review

 (Originally published to Glitchwave on 5/26/2024)













[Image from glitchwave.com]


Perfect Dark

Developer: Rare

Publisher: Nintendo

Genre(s): First-Person Shooter

Platforms: N64

Release Date: May 22, 2000


Rare wasn’t a one-trick pony regarding the titles they developed for Nintendo’s first 3D console. The N64 age was what I’d consider to be the British developer’s golden era, crafting a plethora of fresh and distinctive IPs over the span of five years. Their creative flux was facilitated by a lucrative partnership with the most successful company in gaming, and Nintendo benefited wonderfully from Rare’s dedication to innovation and overall quality. However, a fair quantity of Rare’s output on the N64 catered towards the younger demographic that Nintendo already had cornered the market of to the point of direct correlation. As I understand it, N64 purchasers were fed so many sugary sweet wholesome games featuring kooky, inoffensive cartoon characters that they were liable to contract gaming diabetes. Diddy Kong Racing was so puerile in its presentation that it made Mario Kart 64 look like the chariot races from Ben-Hur by comparison. As much as I respect and adore Banjo-Kazooie (and its sequel to a considerably lesser extent), expressing your fondness for the collectathon platformer past a certain age is bound to raise some judgmental eyebrows and cast some not-so-subtle snickers in your direction. Blast Corps and Jet Force Gemini injected some high-octane adrenaline into Rare’s catalog, but the tone of these two games exuded something that was still ultimately aimed at pleasing youngsters. No, Conker’s Bad Fur Day is not the exception to this rule, as the game was more juvenile than having someone pull your finger at a funeral. Simply because the game is rife with content that is inappropriate for children doesn’t mean it alienates them with an air of sophistication. However, Perfect Dark is the Rate title that an adult could be inclined to incorporate into their cultured leisure activities alongside breaking open a glass of scotch of Bordeaux wine while putting on some Sade or Bill Evans Trio to unwind.

Perfect Dark’s inherent maturity comes from the fact that it’s a first-person shooter title. Upon revealing this information about the game’s identity, hundreds of gamers are going to interject with Goldeneye 007 to dispute my claim that Perfect Dark was Rare’s first foray into enlightened territory. After all, who can possibly outclass the iconic, debonair British spy who always orders his vodka martinis shaken, not stirred, and is the unparalleled epitome of a ladies' man? Hell, some could argue that a James Bond video game adaptation being one of Rare’s properties negates the necessity for Perfect Dark to deviate from the company’s normal practices of pumping out kid-friendly material. However, Perfect Dark’s dignification transcends Goldeneye 007 in more than just its tone and content. Perfect Dark bends the gung-ho gameplay of the first-person shooter genre upward into an intelligency arch, towering over its fast-paced, electric peers by making its players think critically about the overall objective of an FPS game’s levels in a slower, methodical manner. Does this complex approach complement the genre’s general format, or does it prove to be a counterintuitive mistake that causes unnecessary dissonance? With Perfect Dark, either stance is entirely debatable.

On top of the way Perfect Dark conducts itself, the game is irrefutably a technical marvel beyond the boundaries of a standard N64 game. While Perfect Dark is staunchly associated with the now-retro period of the early 3D age alongside the rest of Rare’s notable N64 releases, I mean that it surpassed the others on a technical level in an impartial sense. Perfect Dark’s full scope was so ambitious that it literally could not be exhibited entirely on the primitive 3D console. Everything except the bare-bones multiplayer mode is inaccessible unless the player purchases an expansion pack that adds several gigabytes of RAM to the N64, and only then can the player experience Perfect Dark in its comprehensive glory. The auxiliary aid of the external apparatus renders a noirish, futuristic world akin to the unmistakable cyberpunk aesthetic of the science fiction classic Blade Runner. All Perfect Dark’s setting needs is the Atari logo spanning across the side of a skyscraper to really hone in on that state of a spellbinding, cybernetic world, but featuring another company’s insignia in a video game, not of that company’s creation might involve a serious lawsuit. Requisite, albeit still fantastical, setpieces like flying automobiles zoom through the city skyline illuminated by the artificial iridescence of urban lighting. A conversation of great urgency via telecommunications is heard in the backdrop of this scene, ending when a woman in a skin-tight uniform shimmies down from the chopper the camera has had a narrowed focus on throughout the cutscene onto the roof of one of the tallest buildings in this metropolitan area, signaling the time for action is nigh. Somewhere in Japan, Hideo Kojima’s ego is either bursting with pride that his auteur strides in gaming are being emulated, or he’s green with envy that another developer has managed to craft an opening with the same heightened cinematic scope that he believed was unparalleled. Either way, comparing Perfect Dark’s introduction sequence to that of Metal Gear Solid’s is a lofty compliment, and it should reel the player into the futuristic adventure they are about to embark on. With the enhancement to the system’s capabilities, Perfect Dark’s graphics and cinematic splendor exceed all that we thought was possible on the N64. However, I cannot say that Perfect Dark compares to MGS in the voice acting department, as it’s indicative of the subpar, directionless vocal delivery associated with the growing pains of 3D gaming. Every (human) character has either an American or British accent with the half-and-half consistency of a coin flip, and as much as I snicker at how infamous lines like “No! That wasn’t meant to happen!” are spoken, I don’t think I’m intended to find humor in them given the context. The game doesn’t exactly scream camp to me like Resident Evil.

The character descending from the chopper hovering from above is secret agent Joanna Dark, the game’s protagonist whose “Perfect Dark” alias is the namesake of the title. Some people have been campaigning recently to gender swap James Bond for both a fresh character perspective and to depict more shrewd, capable female protagonists in pieces of media for the sake of inclusivity. Little do they know, gaming was somehow light years ahead of the curve in this regard. It’s uncertain how Joanna prefers the concentration of her gin-oriented cocktails, but this young lady is certainly as adept in executing feats of classified government espionage as her male inspiration. Her sultry, feminine charms are also a plus that Agent 007 could never exude for obvious reasons. Joanna is the prime secret operative working for the Carrington Institute, a research facility whose goal is to halt the clandestine affairs of the military weapons corporation dataDyne. Because dataDyne knows that their recent business interactions are shady and illegal, they’ve armed themselves to the teeth with a battalion of alert guards prepared to strike down any snakes in the proverbial grass. The one-(wo)man-army of Joanna Dark is facing a legion of opposition defending their roost, so it's of the utmost importance for her to approach every corner and crevice of their facilities with caution and masterful coordination. If this sounds overwhelming to the player, the game offers them plenty of room for preparation. Exiting the menu from the laptop where the main missions are selected will transport the player to navigate through the Carrington Institute. Not only will simply traipsing around the clean and professional hallways of this high clearance institute allow the player to grasp the base controls but certain sections are dedicated to allowing Joanna to brush up on her fieldwork. An indoor firing range will display an array of targets to test Joanna’s reflexive shooting aim, and a room painted with a black and white grid will emulate various obstacles to maneuver around, materialized via VR technology. Sure, presenting ways to train one’s abilities to better ensure accuracy in dire situations isn’t something previous FPS games have neglected to provide. However, the freeform, interactive space of the Carrington Institute is a neat little touch of deeper interactivity that creates an immersive quality unfound by simply selecting these training options from a menu. The developers took note that neutral hub zones were a prevalent attribute to the 3D era’s evolution of level design, and flaunting the Carrington Institute is one of the N64’s most atypical examples.

While Joanna is capable of walking to any of the institute’s facilities, she’ll still have to be transported to any of the game’s main levels that further the story by selecting them from the menu on a laptop screen. Perfect Dark’s story is divided into chapters, and those chapters are often spliced up even further by the missions in fractions of two to three. If a chapter is fractured, the collective individual missions are usually confined by a particular arc or setting, such as the main dataDyne building as the focal point of the first chapter or the three-act mission arc of rescuing the American president in the fifth one. Joanna’s overarching assignment to end dataDyne’s scheming will take her to a myriad of eclectic locations. Outside of the sterile, Nakatomi Plaza hallways of the dataDyne headquarters and the underground laboratories where the corporation’s secrets are obscured from the public eye, this operation will also take Joanna on a tour of oceanside villas, inside the quarters of a submarine, and the private jet of the most enterprising executive officials in the world. Joanna even burgles into Area 51, which is as thrilling as one could imagine. The streets of cyber-age Chicago in the third chapter are especially awe-striking, with that neon-drenched urban glow that made the visuals of Ridley Scott’s magnum opus (and Akira while we’re on the subject) so captivating. Joanna is treated to a grand tour of level setpieces, but they all tend to adopt the same design despite their expansive topographical range. The earliest FPS titles were confined to a labyrinthian level construct, and Perfect Dark continues to trap the player in claustrophobic, monochromatic corridors as if it's devoted to some kind of genre tradition. Admittedly, the offices of a thirty-story building and the interior of a nautical station are appropriately serpentine. However, the dim ice caves of the snowy tundra where the Air Force One jet plummets is a clear indication that the game’s areas are constrained to this sort of construct. As a result of this cohesive design, traversing through Perfect Dark’s levels can be as frustratingly dizzying as attempting to escape a hedge maze while drunk as a skunk.

Lest we forget in discussing Perfect Dark’s levels is that it's still an FPS game, so anyone can logically assume that the vexing search for an exit will constantly be distracted by swathes of armed guards for Joanna to subdue. One could also draw conclusions from the spy implications that Joanna’s carrying a treasure trove of weapons and gadgets to use on the field as well. The Carrington Institute doesn’t supply Joanna with any drastically covert items like a stick of lip gloss that melts steel walls when pressed on surfaces, or bubblegum that disables security cameras when it is spat on the lens. Still, the revolving array of doodads the agency does grant Joanna are government-grade materials and are bound to draw a sense of curiosity from the player. Joanna’s primary weapon that seems most commonplace in her utility belt is a scoped pistol called “The Falcon,” and it can be supplemented by the slew of automatic firearms that the guards generously leave behind after Joanna has picked them off. The Dragon, Cyclone, and the K7 Avenger are as deadly and proficient as their badass names would suggest. They are also the weapons I recommend using during missions because their ammunition can be replenished plentifully due to enemies prevalently using them to strike Joanna down. If it sounds like the institute has overestimated Joanna’s abilities by only granting her access to a peashooter with minimal ammunition, fear not: their budget is exorbitant enough to supply their finest operative with some creative and esoteric gadgets financed by the cumulative tax dollars of the people. A crossbow may not seem unorthodox for something exclusive to secret agents, nor does it seem efficient for killing. However, it proves to be the only weapon in the game that ensures a quick dispatch for any target in Joanna’s sights. Sleep arrows are an alternate type of ammunition for delicate targets who must be sedated temporarily. The agency provides a laser that is comfortably placed on Joanna’s wrist like a watch, and a sniper rifle is evidently too essential a weapon to have Joanna scrounge on the field. The fetching weapon that outclasses all of its peers in Perfect Dark is definitely the Laptop Gun, a sub-machine gun that also functions as a detached, automated turret disguised as a seemingly innocuous laptop. Joanna is also equipped with plenty of non-deadly gadgets that are entirely situational to specific objectives such as night vision goggles and the voyeuristic CamSpy. No matter the size or firepower of a weapon, all of them are equipped with a secondary view that zeros in on a target from afar. While the utility of this feature seems like a no-brainer, the aiming controls when looking through the reticle are more slippery than a sea lion. Couldn’t the agency have provided Joanna with some Diazepam to calm her nervous tremors? Actually, it doesn’t matter how unwavering this supplementary sight is because aiming in the standard viewpoint is already course-corrected by the game. Because the FPS genre’s core gameplay mechanic is automatically assisted, the satisfaction that should’ve come with mowing down enemies with Joanna’s eclectic arsenal was ultimately unfulfilled.

Then I quickly realized that shooting combat is not the focal gameplay aspect of Perfect Dark as it is for the average FPS title. I’ve mentioned the word “objective” plenty throughout this review so far, but I have yet to emphasize how pertinent the mission objectives are in establishing Perfect Dark’s directional identity that discerns it from its more guerilla FPS peers. Before the introductory cinematic that sets the scene for a mission, the player is given a checklist of tasks that they must complete in order to succeed. Only during the first mission is Joanna’s trajectory a straightforward trek from point A to Zed, as these objectives will have her scatter across the map searching for solutions to where one of these objectives is located and how to approach it. The number of objectives needed to complete the level coincides with the three different difficulties, with the easiest “agent” requiring three objectives, the standard “special” with four, and the most daunting “perfect agent” presenting a whopping five of which to contend. Every objective found in the simplest difficulty is shuffled with the additional one or two, and the peremptory ones needed for the harder difficulties are still actively occurring even if the player doesn’t have to bother with them. As stressful as the prospect of adding more tasks to the workload might be for some players, maximizing the productivity in each area with the highest number of objectives is the best way to fully engage with an area to its fullest extent. Doing so will also inject more context into many of the scenarios that the easiest difficulty omits for the sake of mitigation. For example, the scene in which Elvis the alien miraculously wakes from his vegetative state in what is essentially a levitating coffin all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on “agent” difficulty seems too conveniently instantaneous. One objective for the “special agent” difficulty sees Joanna resurrecting the intergalactic creature with a medkit after acting as his sole pallbearer and suddenly, all of my confusion and skepticism was assuaged. Still, regardless of whether or not the player wishes to leave each level without a trace of unfinished business, the objective model alone requires a concerted amount of brain power and patience from the player that no other FPS game has ever come close to factoring into their gameplay.

However, there is an underlying issue with the objective-latent pace of the missions, for it makes the game severely demanding. The missions in Perfect Dark are rather delicate, to say the least, and the margin of error for many of the level’s objectives can be as thin as dental floss. The simplest of mistakes can compromise Joanna’s efforts entirely, and she’ll be forced to abort the mission and have her Secret Service badge revoked indefinitely for her insubordination. I first had the impression that Perfect Dark was intentionally languid so the player could meticulously seek out objectives and carefully consider their options. Eventually, I learned that the game’s true intentions were to have the player fail intentionally unless they have honest-to-god Secret Service training and can deal with any of these situations accordingly. This way, every mistake will eventually ensure a flawless run that will lead the player to victory, but this should only be for those who are concerned with beating their timed scores. Sure, the specifics of the objectives are elucidated upon in the dossier, but there are still some stipulations that the game still keeps in the dark. I was not aware of the thirty-second timer that started before the suitcase carrying Joanna’s equipment was compromised by the mountain lodge’s security, nor was I aware that killing the stewardess’s bodyguards was a punishable faux pas that violated the agency’s code of ethics. When a mission is aborted due to the player’s supposed ineptitude, all progress is reverted right back to the beginning. Not to mention, they’ll still have to factor in the amount of damage Joanna receives, and her death will naturally signal a failed mission as well. The game may direct the player’s aim towards an enemy with more assistance than other FPS titles, but this still does not guarantee that they won’t have the sharpened reflexes to shoot Joanna before they are even sighted in her peripheral. Beyond the “agent” difficulty, allowing an enemy to graze Joanna will result in a hefty decrease in Joanna’s health. Joanna is cooked once the red health threshold fills completely (with blood, no doubt). Shields can be utilized as protective armor, and they seem to be more durable than Joanna’s suit. However, on the harder difficulties, the shields found in the locations of the “agent” difficulty have been erased from the equation completely. Does it seem fair that the player’s extra attention in searching for additional aid is all for naught? An agreeable solution to balancing the higher difficulty settings would be to diminish the shield at the same rate as Joanna’s health because she sure as hell is still going to need them to survive. As it is, Perfect Dark tends to put more on the player’s plate than what is manageable.

Maybe the rate of Perfect Dark’s difficulty is on a steep incline because the stakes of the story ratchet upwards to an incomprehensible, galactic crisis. Perfect Dark’s central conflict supersedes the ordeal between the Carrington Institute and dataDyne, as both are acting as the allying benefactors for two alien factions fighting in a war for interplanetary dominance. The Carrington Institute is siding with the greyer, meeker Maians who look like the sketch artist's depiction of every conspirator’s account of their experience of being abducted by aliens. On the feuding side, dataDyne is in league with the Skedar race of aliens, who are indescribably beastly monsters with the power of shape-shifting their appearances (to something less horrific). Negotiations with dataDyne’s austere head honcho, the reputable, sour-faced Cassandra de Vries, have led the Skedar to an artifact submerged in the abyss of the Pacific Ocean. The transactional reward for dataDyne’s efforts is to finance the corporation with enough assets to crush every one of their competitors, but their first inclination with the superweapon is to test its unspeakable potency on Earth before they use it to wipe the Maians from existence. No wonder the floating dataDyne AI John Carroll defected and joined Carrington’s cause. With the help of Maian’s representative Elvis, who is surprisingly far more charming than his archetypal alien design should allow, Joanna makes De Vries learn the error of her ways. She then takes the fight to the Skedar leader on their home planet, who has been posing as a human operative named Mr. Blonde. Besides the unconventional boss fight against the supreme Skedar lifeform, the ending is rather anticlimactic. Joanna and Elvis congratulating themselves on a job well done as they return to their respective environments isn't a conclusion with the sense of urgency that this epic ordeal should have warranted. Considering that situations differ between difficulties, the outcome of completing the final task should also depend on the extent of the player’s accomplishments.

Despite the resounding success of Goldeneye 007, Rare still wasn’t finished in proving their point that original FPS titles could exist competently on a console’s hardware. Goldeneye 007 provided enough evidence that this hypothesis was feasible, but Perfect Dark is the next leap from Rare’s previous FPS title that suggested that some console FPS games could surpass the quality of those on the PC. Perfect Dark is a layered and cerebral FPS game that trumped the PC crowd’s precious progenitors by cooling its formula to the point of rich refinement that only the patient and acute and clever gamers could entertain. Perhaps I’m not as astute of a gamer as I thought, but there’s a difference between a sharp wit and intuition and psychic foresight that the game sometimes expects from its players. Goldeneye passed the ocular pat down to sit and fraternize with the regulars at the FPS bar, but Perfect Dark is the Frasier Crane of this analogy that talks of urbane subjects whether or not the other patrons understand him.

Tres bien, Rareware.

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