With the August Xbox Live Gold freebies came Red Faction: Armageddon. It sounded ominous, and a welcome break from the crap arcade games that keep popping up. Everyone likes some mindless shooting, after all. But unfortunately my time with the game was brief, and while I admit that it’s rather unfair to critique a game off of 5 minutes of gameplay, game reviews are useless in general–like any art critique it’s the pretentious rambling of a pseudo-intellectual “expert”.
I knew nothing of the franchise, but surmised that it was part of a series (deduced by the “:”). Upon loading, I was greeted with the various graphical introductions of developers/publishers–none of which I had encountered before (not a good sign). I also didn’t know SyFy published games, and in my experience the TV and movie industry doesn’t know a damn thing about making a good video game, nor do they know how to adapt a video game into a TV show/movie. Also, I hate when people abbreviate “Science Fiction”, and doubly so when they use a “y” instead of an “i”. This game already had a lot of strikes against it.
Then I was presented a familiar calibration screen: adjust the brightness until some symbol is just barely visible. Games do this for one reason alone: at some point something scary is going to pop out of the darkness and scare you, but you won’t be scared if you can see it too soon so we want it just barely visible. There was a time when I dutifully responded to the developer’s wishes. No more. I adjusted the brightness until the symbol in question was comfortably visible, and not just barely visible.
[SPOILERS]
The intro cinematic loaded, and through a combination of my ignorance with the franchise and the game’s bad narrative, I surmised that I was on Mars, there were general disagreements between groups of people, and I was part of one of these groups and therefore needed to shoot people in the other group.
This other group had captured the planet’s terraforming equipment, and was using it for some sort of environmental terrorism. Approaching the target in an ATV, my team was there to shoot these people, I guess. But my team did little to inspire confidence. A brief discussion ensued regarding a “Pyrrhic victory” and “throwing a wrench into their plans”, to which someone on the team intelligently questioned what both of those sayings meant, and…what a wrench was. I guess the passing standards on the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery test have gotten lowered over time. We ran out of people of average intelligence and were now throwing mentally challenged soldiers into the fray, or just really uneducated people…just like Vietnam. Ha!
But it was obvious that this dialog was for humorous intent. I symbolically humored the developers by uttering a single “Ha!”. What I presumed was my character (the only one who didn’t sound stupid–because who wants to play an idiot?) professionally answered queries regarding his mechanical aptitude, as it would be needed in fixing the terraformer.
Then a sandstorm enveloped the ATV, and lightening blew the rear hatch off the vehicle–I don’t understand how those physics made any sense–I’m thrown from the vehicle as it met some violent end. Then the usual fade to black.
I awakened, standing, with some AI giving me instructions. And thus began a familiar rendition of a popular beginning sequence–integrated controller settings. To get my bearings, I needed look straight up at the sky. Challenge accepted. Then, I had to look at a series of barrels. Whew. What better way to test my combat-readiness than to pivot my neck and hips slightly? Satisfied that I understood basic orientation and locomotion of my own human form, the game then let me actually walk.
Following the one direction I could go, I encountered a crumbling wall. The AI told me to use my maul and smash it. That’s right–standard military armament included an assault rifle and a 200 pound hammer, stored up my butt apparently, as it manifested into corporeal existence upon equipping. Actually I think there was some sort of Star Trek-y matter replicator on my suit that created it. Maybe it could replicate me a good video game later.
Also, it made me use the D-pad to change weapons. I couldn’t even cycle them with the Y button, oh no. This meant that in the heat of combat I would have to reach over with my maneuvering thumb to switch, thus momentarily becoming stationary. Yes, that choice made sense.
Anyway, I took this giant hammer and smashed the wall. Huzzah! I switched back to my rifle, hoping something would appear to shoot, and… the game froze, then crashed to the dashboard.
Thus ended my first and only brief experience with the Red Faction franchise. I subsequently went outside and picked tomatoes.
–Simon