Reviews// Crysis 2

The suit also has strength-related abilities: you can pick up explosive barrels to throw at your foes; power-kick cars into them, leap over their heads to grab ledges and pull yourself to safety, or you can take the coward’s way out and run for your life. These actions are all measured from a single power gauge. Try to do too many things at once, and you’ll soon find yourself without any power, unable defend yourself.

Defence is of vital importance because the human and alien villains you’re up against are smart. Granted, they aren’t quite intelligent enough to not occasionally get caught up against walls, or run in place oblivious to you standing right behind them. But when the AI works they’ll flank, chuck grenades, and out-manoeuvre you whenever given a chance.

The Ceph aliens are the worst. They range from nigh-on indestructible, armoured killing machines to lithe bastards that jump and hide and run along the ceiling. With such xenomorph-like behaviour it’s only suitable you have access to nano-vision, a heat filter for the HUD that made me feel like the chap from the Predator movies.

It’s terribly satisfying hiding in a building’s rafters, spotting a patrolling Ceph peeling off from the pack, following the glowing trail it leaves, then gliding down to blast a silenced shotgun through its exo-ribs, and have its squid guts vomit all over your pumps.

So, considering there’s so much that’s great about the game, where does it go wrong?

Crysis? What Crysis?
It’s the tone I have a problem with, and the story surrounding it. The plot’s the standard science fiction techno thriller you’d expect from a post-Modern Warfare first-person-shooter.

You play a U.S. Marine who’s been zipped inside a nanotechnological super suit by Prophet, the hero’s unit commander from the first Crysis game. You receive transmissions from Prophet’s handler, Gould, who has you dash across a New York filled with gun-toting counter-operatives, invading aliens, and all manner of earthquakes, collapsing buildings, exploding thingummybobs - there’s even a flood or two.

Here’s the problem: For the first third of the game, Gould has you searching for answers to questions you just don’t have. Because of the barmy narrative structure, latecomers to the franchise will be left in the dark for the first three hours. Gould addresses you as if you’re Prophet, and therefore assumes you know what’s going on.

It’s like when your mum ‘phones to regale you with stories about Dave’s divorce. You know, Dave - Margaret’s nephew. What do you mean, “Who’s Margaret”? You met her at Trevor and Shell’s wedding! Trevor and Shell! Don’t tell me you don’t know who they are! They’re…

Well, you get the idea.

An Ambulatory Coat Rack
As a result I felt superfluous to the story. The characters spend the game bickering about matters that didn’t concern me. They talk about Prophet, the aliens and the suit; and the guy inside the suit – that’s me or you if you buy the game - was little more than a form of conveyance for it, a sort of suit deployment unit.

Last week I said I enjoyed Dragon Age 2 because, for once, I wasn’t a god-like hero saving the world. This is almost at the other end of the scale. I did not enjoyCrysis 2 because I felt like an ambulatory coat rack.

This feeling wasn’t helped by the way the story’s told in first-person, in-engine cutscenes that wrench control from the player and sometimes go on for minutes at a time. During these scenes you can only loll your head woozily about, looking inches to the left or right while waiting for the game to continue.

Occasionally it has you press a button as some marginal form of interaction - a trigger-pull to crawl, an A button to jump - but these scenes are too protracted and lack the urgency of, say, the ice-climbing sequence from the start of Modern Warfare 2.

For a game that draws so heavily from Half-Life 2 - and one of its redeeming features is getting to see HL2-esque alien walkers, spaceships and bio-mechanical architecture rendered in astonishing Crytek-o-vision - it’s sorely lacking in the first-person control that made its forerunner so seamless and so well-remembered.

Whenever something spectacular happens your character’s walking speed slows down and a prompt appears telling you to press Y to look at it. This worked for Gears of War but in a game viewed through first-person perspective, it takes control away from you.

Even worse, almost every chapter of the story ends in the same way - with you losing consciousness and falling into some water. For all the variety in the action and locations, the plot feels like running on a treadmill. Even the missions are repetitive. Any sense of momentum is clubbed out of you when each chapter starts with being washed up on a shore somewhere. At certain points during the game you use the in-suit defibrillator to jump-start your heart - I wish someone had used it to jump-start the plot.

Conclusion
Crysis 2 is porn. It’s lots of fun at first, it’s wonderful to look at and it’s going to make a lot of people very happy. But by the half-way point I was bored of gasping at the visuals, yet I kept plugging away, feeling increasingly ashamed because I was playing even though I didn’t really want to. And, now it’s done, I want to have a little cry. There’s so much to like about it, yet it’s hollow and repetitive, and as much as I liked it, it’s left a sour taste my mouth.

I could labour the porn metaphor further and talk about the camera dragging your line of sight toward the gaping holes the director wants you to see, but I think you’ve got the point by now. For all its spectacle and frantic action, Crysis 2 is less "Phwoar, look at those fun sacks!" and more "Well, it certainly looks nice. I wonder what's happening on Twitter.”

SPOnG Score: 75%