It always pans out the same way. You turn up a bit late and slightly sweaty, because in East London every street looks the bloody same. You then get shown a Powerpoint presentation extolling the virtues of 'Big Shooter Next' multiplayer, and soon after you and your fellow journalists are herded next door where sixteen glowing screens are humming in darkness waiting for you.
It's great, not least because you often get free posh sandwiches, but because it's a perfect way to judge a multiplayer game's potential. Online gaming is about shared enjoyment - so when you hear the gasps, the shouts, the swearing and have someone level an accusatory finger at you then call you an arsehole, you know a game has potential.
Far Cry 3 is going all out to encourage those yelps. Everything about it is being built to encourage teamplay - to keep your side fighting the good fight together. For example, myself and my cohorts were at one stage approaching a Domination point - a lonely spot caught halfway between a wrecked submarine that sits in a murky green dock and the dark interior of a network of jungle caves.
Rather than simply rush in all guns blazing, however, we all took a quick moment to congregate behind a boulder - where I slammed down on both thumbsticks to issue a rallying call. This is a buff, essentially, to prepare everyone in the direct vicinity for the coming s**tstorm - in this case granting my companions a deeper health reservoir, and for which everyone automatically showed their appreciation with a fist-pump. Manly motions didn't last long, however, since an enemy pirate had chosen that boulder as a good spot for a hidden triggered explosive - but our tactical build-up was, at least, excellent.
Rewarding those who kill together and stick together is currently high on the agenda for most shooter developers (a game like MW3 was all about rewarding team players as much as lone wolves) but Far Cry 3 is knuckling down and making it a focus. You build up Team Support Points (so TSP, the stuff my Grandad used to smell of) by saving downed allies, issuing battle cries and grabbing objectives - and they can then be spent on fun things like heavy weapon drops and the Far Cry variant on a UAV. Alternatively Psyche Gas turns the viewpoint of enemies to woozy-vision, makes every player look like a scary-eyed demon and conveniently flicks the Friendly Fire toggle into a more dangerous setting.
Overall the pace of the game itself is refreshing - wide levels give you breathing space post-spawn, but also never keep you too far from danger. A lot of Ubi-thought, meanwhile, has clearly been directed at keeping every map's location variety and encouraged play-styles in balance. The wrecked sub map, for example, features a rickety up-close fishing village, a network of tunnels and an ammo dump beneath a wide downward vista perfect for sniping - or just messing around on a rope slide and firing pistol potshots at the campers below.
Throughout, meanwhile, the Far Cry 3 engine (here running on a PC with a 360 controller attached) excels in its explosions, flames and the way palm fronds are buffeted and burnt by explosions. In fact, it's this that's central to Far Cry 3's most extravagant multiplayer mode. Governmental whispers about Firestorm's abuse of gasoline could cause a panic that'd leave your local petrol station running on fumes for months...
You're out to set light to your enemy's two fuel dumps, the trick being to make sure they're both simultaneously aflame, while the bad guys do their darnedest to do the same to you. Once the skies are full of black smoke (your character is too tough to cough, or for his eyes to start watering) the second stage of the mode begins - a Headquarters-style timer starts ticking down to the grand opening of a radio capture point.
The team who've just ignited half the map need the radio to call in a plane with a cargo hold full of petrol to cause even more destruction (for reasons unknown), while the team that's on the back-foot need a plane full of water to douse the flames and reset the battle. Far Cry's fire system is rarely anything but a pleasure and it's certainly a tense mode to play - but you'd certainly worry that its bottleneck finales are destined to provoke drawn matches, while it's a shame that most of the fighting takes place away from the blazing infernos themselves.
Of more concern, perhaps, is the irritating dialogue that bookends every game - Far Cry 3's edginess seems to be of the variety that's desperate to use f**kwords to impress. Before bouts your inspirational faction leader encourages lollygaggers to "Die like f**kin' deserving dogs", while once you've taken (or doled out) enough bullets for the cause a sequence plays out that sees a winning player choose to show mercy or deliver further punishment to captured losers.
I'm firmly of the opinion that swearing can be big and clever (often both simultaneously) but rarely in cases when dialogue is laced with swears like they've been fired from a machine gun. Why would two groups of men who've been repeatedly killing each other for ten minutes suddenly want to show the enemy leader mercy anyway? A war crimes tribunal at The Hague wouldn't buy it for a second...
Another concern, perhaps, is that the game currently has a wants cake/eating it issue with showing you a confusing death-cam of the shots that left you bloodily sunbathing, and simultaneously showing you lying there hammering the gamepad to ensure that you stay conscious long enough for a life-saving injection of magic-juice. You'll spend a lot of time horizontal in Far Cry 3, and generally not in the good way.
There were yelps and occasional real-world battle cries of 'You got me, you bastard' during this play session, then, but no war stories that anyone would necessarily find themselves telling their grandchildren. It very much feels like an adjunct to the main game, rather than a star attraction in itself. The feel of the weapons and the scenery (and indeed the ways the two combine) bode extremely well for the solo experience - but extra spit and polish will be required if Far Cry 3 multiplayer truly wants its place in the sun.
In doing so, I remembered how much I loved the music from Far Cry 2, and so I'm sharing some of it here. This music, composed by Marc Canham, stands apart from the usual action video game cliches, combining traditional African instruments, strings, drums, and vocals to create an iconic, distinctive sound.
The string and drum music that kicks in every time you're creeping around an outpost is one of my favorite bits of game music of all time, but the main theme (heard above), encapsulates everything I love about Canham's score.
PlayStation Plus subscribers can pick up the impending re-release of 1991 coin-op classic The Simpsons Arcade free of charge for a limited time this month.
Konami's cartoon tie-in is available at no charge from 1st February to the end of the month.
It's a bumper few weeks for PS Plus members, with Far Cry 2 and Final Fantasy V among the other freebies up for grabs. There's also substantial savings to be had on Rayman Origins, Sonic Adventure and House of the Dead 3.
Here's the full list of offers, as seen on the PlayStation Blog:
From 1st February:
Second chance offer:
Still to come later this month:
Age: 45
Nationality: Mauritian
Eye Colour: Grey
Quarbani wasn't my first buddy in Far Cry 2, just the first person I'd met in Africa I didn't actively hate on sight. He seemed to at least have a little dignity in the depths of his mercenary psyche. Maybe it was just that he didn't say a whole lot, or what he did say was the bare minimum needed to convey his message. In a world notorious for its absurdly fast-talking, verbose residents, Quarbani was a breath of fresh air.
When Far Cry 2 gives you a buddy, there's not a lot of fanfare. They deliver their hyperspeed dialogue about how we should all be looking out for one another here in the depths of Africa, and then you've got some prick who will ring you up before you do a mission with something borderline genocidal and most definitely approaching a war crime for you to do on top of that. It's that or a guy who'll save your life a dozen times, at least.
Quarbani was the latter kind of buddy, the one that saves your life. When you go down in a firefight, you black out, getting snatches of consciousness as your buddy rushes in to save you, blasting away at whoever plugged you while dragging you to safety. Then he gives you a shot of morphine, a pistol, and you clear out the bad guys together.
It's an experience that'll create emotional ties between men. It's not often that I have my life saved by a game character in what wasn't a completely scripted occurrence, and to have it happen multiple times over a few hours made me really bloody grateful to have him around. Thanks to Quarbani, I was all but immortal. I relied on him. Hell, I even began to enjoy his company, when he had the time to give it.
Quarbani Singh died while I was trying to steal some diamonds from a militia checkpoint.
I'd gone in way too hot, rather than picking them off quietly. It was because I was being lazy and I had enough arrogance because I'd done it before. Except this time I got hit by an errant grenade and went down, doing that whole blacking out, semi conscious routine. Quarbani saved me, pulled me out of the fire, and we finished them off, splitting up to deal with them more quickly.
When your buddy goes down in Far Cry 2 they let loose a flare. It's always a bit of a shock to see, because they're tough bastards, but you just give them a morphine shot and they're done. Maybe two if you've taken your time getting to them.
I ran over to the flare, knelt down beside him and jammed a shot into his chest. His fingers beckoned at me. He needed more. Another shot rammed home, and another beckon. I only had one left, but he'd never needed this much before. So I gave him another shot, and again, he beckoned.
Well f**k.
I didn't have any more medicine, and so my buddy was going to die. He'd saved my life numerous times, and I couldn't even get him back up. I could leave him here to bleed out, or I could end his pain with a bullet to the head. The game, and I, looked away and the gun fired. I closed his eyes.
He was the first.
Age: 36
Nationality: Northern Irish
Known Alias: The Mazeí
Frank Bilders, the ex-IRA nutcase who would do just about anything to get out of Africa and back to Ireland, including genocide, robbery, diamond heist and medicine destruction. Some really s**ty stuff. I never liked Frank, as charming as he was on the radio. Frank was a dick.
He'd always call me up when I was about to do another distasteful mission, giving me something even more unpalatable to complete, and I'd have to try and justify it to myself. More often than not I'd ignore him, but this time he was getting clear, getting the next plane out of Africa. I suppose I owed him that much.
I don't want to take blame for this one. My gun jammed, some piece of s**t AK-47 that I'd been using for far too long. It's probably my fault for not swapping to something that wasn't rusted through and covered in dirt, Far Cry 2's way of telling you your gun isn't worth the bullets you put in it, but firefights have a tendency for making you not really pay attention to the little things. A bullet has an amazing power to distract.
He was surrounded, and it'd just be a case of emptying a clip into them and he'd be fine. But the bloody gun jammed, and by the time I'd cleared the chamber he was dead.
So Frank never left Africa. The world is probably better off, but I've let down another person that didn't have to die.
Age: 40
Nationality: Haitian
Andre replaced Quarbani as my secondary buddy. He was ok, did the job, didn't screw up too often. He only lasted a few hours though.
I think he got run over by a jeep while I was leaving the area. The residents of Far Cry 2's Africa are homicidal, and while you can blaze through the checkpoints in a jeep, if any of them have transport, they'll chase you like no one's business. After going down and getting rescued, I'd cut my losses and hit the accelerator. Andre didn't make it to the passenger seat.
I didn't exactly stop to go check he was alright, mind. I just never saw him again.
Age: 35
Nationality: French
Hair: Blonde with a red bandana
Michele was annoying. I would've killed her myself if she hadn't taken a shotgun blast to the face in a militia camp somewhere.
Age: 24
Nationality: Chinese
Tattoos: Full sleeve Chinese Dragon on his right arm
He shouldn't even have been in Africa. What the hell does he know at 24? Idiot.
Got hit by a grenade.
Age: 48
Nationality: Kosovar Albanian
Known Alcoholic
Josip didn't die. How could he, when he had all these people sacrificing themselves to save his life?
I came to Far Cry 2 expecting intricate fire physics, a beautiful open world to explore and revel in, and a Heart of Darkness-lite story to tide things over. A standard shooter with a bit of extra weight on its bones, some freedom for the player, and the odd literary nod.
Thing is, Far Cry 2 managed to make me care about people I had no reason to care about. Nasty, amoral characters who cared about little more than themselves. Yet, because of the way the game worked, I built an attachment regardless.
And then, once all this had been done, it pushed me away, and made me care even less than I had when coming into the game. What's the point in investing in these people when they can die so easily? Why bother even learning their names, if the next grenade could finish them off? No, it's better to just take them for granted until they're gone, and then replace them with a new face.
Far Cry 2 taught me the emotional detachment of a mercenary, while at the same time holding up a mirror so that I could see this happening to myself. It's not perfect by a long shot, with its psychotic inhabitants driving hell for leather the instant they even get a whiff of you, but it's still the only game I've played that managed to really nail emergent narrative in a way that felt natural and involving.
Every one of my buddies died in an unscripted scene that was a direct consequence of my own actions, and my own mistakes. Their blood is on my hands. I caused that, and I then have to live with a reminder that I messed up in the guise of whoever replaces them.
You're not Quarbani, Andre, and so I don't care about you. You're not Quarbani, Michele, so I couldn't give a s**t. You're not Quarbani, Xianyong, and so I'm not going to watch out for you, to make sure you don't get killed.
The fact that guns can jam, that fires can start, that grenades can roll innocuously down slopes and staircases before shredding the surrounding area created a game world where these battlefield stories can occur. And at the same time, it establishes a set of rules that ensures there's drama - eventually. The player will die, at some point, and so you'll have that last minute rescue. You're going to get into a critical state and have to perform some battlefield surgery, pulling bullets out of your arm or some rebar out of your leg. Things go wrong, and stories emerge.
Despite all of the problems with Far Cry 2, the fact that it can do that sets it head and shoulders over most other games. If you can get over the constantly respawning checkpoints and accept the grimy undertones of each mission objective there's a game that embraces the unpredictable, and has decided to strip away the heroic bulls**t of other FPS games. It's a hard pill to swallow, but it's good medicine.
From Zelda to Final Fantasy, we've seen plenty of dedicated video game orchestral concerts over the years. Only a week or so ago, there was a huge Legend of Zelda concert in Los Angeles, and next week will see the release of a collection of video game music from the London Philharmonic.
I've listened to much of the Philharmonic album in advance, and I found that the tracks I enjoyed the most were the ones I'd never heard played by an orchestra. Orchestras tend to be going for a mainstream thing with these performances, so they focus on the themes we all know and love. But while I'm all for hearing the Mario "1-1" music or Cloud's Theme from Final Fantasy VII, I found that I was really digging hearing a full orchestra play the opening music from Grand Theft Auto IV, or the theme from Angry Birds.
I thought it might be fun to list five pieces of music that aren't the first choices for game concert programmers, but which I would get excited to see on a concert program.
(And for the record: I know that image up top isn't technically from Far Cry 2 due to the weird compass, but I still really like that image and theoretically we're in an alternate universe anyway so whatever.)
Instruments ready? Everyone tuned up? And a 1, 2, 3, 4….
World of Goo — "Beginning"
Actually, I'd almost be up for an entire segment of a concert dedicated to Kyle Gabler's wonderful soundtrack from World of Goo - it's this unhinged, Elfman-like thing, all momentum and balancing. I listen to the soundtrack from World of Goo and I hear a clown on a unicycle, wearing a one-man-band outfit, riding in desperate circles around a big top, trying to stay upright. In other words, it's about as perfect a fit for the game as could be. I'd say the orchestra could bring out a featured accordion soloist for this one, maybe Rob Reich or something. #justathought
Final Fantasy Tactics A2 — "Exceeding the Hill"
As much as I enjoy the opening music from this game (which plays when you hit "play" on the above video), my favorite track from this entire game (and, for some weird reason, one of my favorite pieces of video game music full-stop), is the second part, "Exceeding the Hill," which comes on at 1:50. It captures everything Tactics is to me—playful, thoughtful, and tense in an enjoyable way. Also, it is called "Exceeding the Hill," which is one of the best song names I have ever heard.
Just listening to it and I want to start placing my party around the grid. Watch out for my juggler.
The Secret of Monkey Island — "Intro"
Of course, this game has a much beloved soundtrack. And while it would just be cool to see an orchestra tackle its iconic themes, something I've found with this theme is that it actually sounded different depending on your sound card. As a result of that, the video I've posted above is what I think of as the "definitive" version, but for many folks theirs was. So, there's wiggle-room on the soundtrack, and it would be fun to hear what an orchestral arranger would come up with.
Plants vs. Zombies — "Watery Graves"
Of all the pizecatto string tunes that would work well if performed by an orchestra, Laura Shigihara's "Watery Graves" from her Plants vs. Zombies soundtrack might be my favorite. This is a track that was clearly created within a recording program—the delay that's bouncing off of all of the instruments gives it a watery, echoing quality that would be difficult to reproduce in a traditional orchestra. But that's exactly why I'd love to hear it!
This video actually cuts out when the beat drops, but you can hear a full version of the tune here:
Far Cry 2 — "Dark River"
Stephen has started joking that I'll post about Far Cry 2 whenever I'm given an opportunity. I have no idea what he's talking about. But speaking of Far Cry 2, let me tell you about this track!
In all seriousness, many of the tunes that are performed at these orchestral shows are the main themes from games, the big heroic anthems, the most iconic moments. But in music just as in games, pacing is very important. A good concert needs some other contours, and Marc Canham's Far Cry 2 soundtrack is loaded with contours.
This track, "Dark River," is one of my favorites. Canham ditched the more common focus on heavy percussion and driving melodies to focus on sparse, textural stuff, appropriating a lot of African harmonies and rhythms along with a surprising amount of horror-film string tricks. This track makes me think of Far Cry 2 more than almost any other, and if it fired up in the middle of a video game concert, I would probably leave my chair and start sneaking up on people in the lobby. With a machete. Y'know, if I'd brought a machete.
I finally finished Crytek's Crysis 2 last week and surprised myself by immediately firing up a new game and starting it over from the beginning. Sure, Crysis 2 is a slick, well-made first-person shooter, but it's fairly unremarkable on the surface. So why, when I had so many other games I could (or should) be playing, was I nano-suiting up yet another time?
A few minutes into my new game, I hit the right shoulder button to engage my cloaking device and slunk out of an office window and onto a balcony overlooking one of Crysis 2's trademark sun-dappled urban arenas. I surveyed the scene—a group of Cell soldiers were standing across a small park while nearby, another manned the machine gun on the back of an armored car. I slipped, cat-like, into an alleyway, bits of their conversation drifting along as I drew nearer. Carefully, I began to flank them.
And that was when I realized what it is that makes the game so appealing: Crysis 2 evokes the thrill of the hunt.
A friend of mine was talking about Crysis 2 on a podcast earlier this year, and when asked to explain why he enjoyed the game he said, essentially, "It's really fun to hunt people down." After saying that, he paused and kind of laughed, backpedaling a bit. "I realize that sounds a little creepy… but it's true! It's really fun!"
He's right: there's something uniquely satisfying about games that allow me to play the predator. And he's also right that it sounds kind of strange admitting that out loud… I swear I'm not a weirdo! I don't hunt people in my neighborhood after dark or anything! I just like games like Crysis 2, games that engage a natural, animal instinct through a confluence of stealth mechanics, flexible level design and strong enemy AI.
Batman: Arkham Asylum had a lot going for it, but my favorite parts of the game were its predatory stealth segments. As the Bat picked off Joker's goons one by one, their increasingly panicked reactions and erratic behavior gave me a sick thrill. This is what people are talking about when they say that game feels like a "BatmanSimulator." Crime-solving, exploration and brawling are all fun, but the essence of Batman is that predator in the dark, two white eyes glowing in the shadows, striking fear into the wicked. Arkham Asylum perfectly captured that feeling.
Predatory games hinge upon the freedom to be spotted and then hide again without resetting everything—call it "dynamic stealth." Early Splinter Cells fall mostly into the "pure stealth" category. Protagonist Sam Fisher must remain unseen for the most part, and so most of the game is spent lurking in corners, waiting for guards to pass by or turn their backs. Splinter Cell: Conviction did a lot to move the gameplay in a more predatory, engaging direction. And while I do love early Splinter Cell games, I had a absolute blast playing and re-playing Conviction, and at this point I think I prefer it.
While doing a second spin through Deus Ex for our letter series on the game, I realized that as much as the game encourages stealth-based, predatory gameplay, it doesn't quite feel right. The moment I get spotted, enemies start running about all willy-nilly, setting off alarms and charging my position. The levels are too narrow to allow for any escape or improvisation, and in most instances, enemy AI doesn't have any layers between "unaware" and "alert." Striking, setting off the alarm, and then sneakily circling back while enemies close in on your last known position is one of the sublime thrills of a predatory game; but AI has to be advanced enough to pull it off.
In addition to enemy AI, overall enemy design is also very important. Both Crysis 2 and its predecessor Crysis start off brilliantly, but both games get quite a bit less fun as they go on. This is almost entirely due to the fact that both games introduced a new, different type of enemy at the midpoint. When the Ceph were introduced in Crysis, what had been a game about prowling through the underbrush suddenly hinged upon big, open-field shootouts against flying squid-monsters. It wasn't half as much fun. Crytek smartly kept the Ceph on the ground in Crysis 2, but they still weren't as much fun to take on as the hapless PMC drones from the earlier parts of the game.
The sprawling savannas of Far Cry 2 present a remarkably pure dilution of chaotic, predatory gameplay. Pure stealth is rarely an option in that game, mainly because enemies are annoyingly hyper-aware and can spot you a couple clicks away. The key, then, is to move in carefully, strike from a distance and then close quickly, circling at all times while using the natural environment (bodies of water, bluffs and vantage points) to your advantage.
The dynamic nature of Far Cry 2's encounters make it enjoyable for hours at a time. Even better, the game adheres to its core design from beginning to end, dodging the switcheroo-itis that has plagued Crytek's games, including the first Far Cry. It is truly a wonderful thing that there are no extraterrestrial cephalopods or mutant killer apes in the latter half of Far Cry 2.
But there's something else about the game too, a certain quickening of the pulse as I come up over a bluff, crouch, and take aim. These games dig at something deeper, something darker: the hunter in all of us.
When I've used a wounded enemy for bait and drawn out an entire camp of mercenaries, I get a sense of bloody accomplishment that doesn't just derive from in-game progression or increased leaderboard status. It's grim, but it's very real—my predatory nature, working its way to the surface.
The guard post has been decimated, gutted by fire; there are bodies strewn all about. The last man standing has lost his cool and snapped. He's whirling around in circles, shouting false bravado into the shadows in the jungle. "That all you got? You got nothing! Where are you hiding? Where are you?"
I'll tell you where I am, buddy. I'm circling, circling… closing in for the kill…
This cute little clip for the upcoming Planet of the Apes reboot shows a chimp kicking ass and taking names at what looks like Far Cry 2.
At least, it's cute until he breaks out, kills all those people then knocks the Statue of Liberty over. Then he can go to hell.