Mainstream Review: Metro: Last Light

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Gorilla Film Magazine is aware of films, television and games that are actually popular. We don’t put a lot of effort into covering that stuff, but we’re definitely aware of it. So here’s the Mainstream review of the week. 

Metro: Last Light
Release Date: 17/05/13 

Once upon a time the apocalypse was supposed to be a good thing; God would shake the Etch-a-Sketch of this world and his chosen few would live on, immortal, while the sinners simply faded away. The problem is, we’re all sinners, really, in one way or another, and so the apocalypse has come to embody the fear (and excitement) of losing everything we treasure, all the glorious intangible stuff of this material world. Furthermore, it’s become something mankind can actually endure, as we burrow into this life, like ticks, persevering to the end (post-end in fact) often with a trusty, homemade shotgun and a healthy sense of gallows humour.

And there’s certainly a sense that some kind of sci-fi, post-apocalyptic scenario is actually welcome. I mean, it would be nice, wouldn’t it? To forgot about the made-up systems that govern our lives, to not have to worry about money or trivial social norms. How silly it all was, how it all seemed like children playing, with their banks and their politics and their table manners, acting like it was all so important, as if any of it really mattered. It’s hardly surprising that post-apocalyptic fiction is so popular right now; we’re getting bored with civilisation. We fancy a change.

The grim, toxic, monster-infested world of Metro: Last Light is not a place one would fantasise about visiting in reality. Moscow is a ruin, where only grotesque mutants stalk the poisoned swamps, hungry for meat. The people fled to the safe darkness of the city’s underground Metro tunnels, where they built a new home out of the rubble of the old. But of course they’re not really safe; horrible creatures lurk in the shadows, and the survivors fight amongst themselves, as new factions emerged, each with their own rigid systems of belief. Players walk in the shit-encrusted boots of Artyom, a hero in the loosest sense of the word, who is tasked with destroying what may be the last surviving ‘Dark One’ (a race of telepathic super-beings who just want to get along, mostly wiped out by Artyom in the first game; Metro 2033). Needless to say, nothing goes at all to plan, and Artyom finds himself going on an epic journey through the Metro, sometimes aided by fellow humans, but often alone in the deep black, surrounded by creepy-crawlies and brutal Nazis.

Oh yeah, there’s Nazis. The Fourth Reich want to wipe out the impure, anyone they suspect of being mutated, to ensure mankind’s survival. Then there are the Communists; the Red Line who want to unite the Metro tunnels under one banner, to ensure mankind’s survival. Artyom himself is the newest member of the Rangers of the Order, a band of battle-hardened soldiers who are in possession of terrible, game-changing weapons, to ensure mankind’s survival. You’re probably detecting a theme right about now.

The attention to detail in Metro: Last Light is simply wonderful; from the ingenious handmade weapons, to the unique underground settlements that ensure no two tunnels are exactly alike. While the similar themed (albeit more playful) Fallout 3 saw you trekking through remarkably dull train stations, or keeping above ground as much as possible, Metro does it’s best to make long slogs in claustrophobic tunnels as diverse and engaging as possible. One moment you’ll be creeping through the shadows, with only a lighter to guide your way (and repel hungry spider-creatures) the next you’ll be clinging to a makeshift boat, while giant lampreys burst out of the flooded tunnel, hoping to tip you overboard. On the rare occasions you do venture outside, you’ll have to wear a gas mask, and regularly replace the air filters, which come in short supply. You’ll also have to manually wipe the mask with a tap of a button, whenever it gets spattered with slime or mud or blood. Little touches like this greatly elevates the game into something special, indeed Metro is at it’s best when relying on atmosphere, rather than narrative, to drive the experience.

Overall, the story is perfectly fine, but it could have done with less of it. The game is pretty linear, and at times it feels like more of a ride, especially as there are so many scripted events. The experience is most enjoyable when you forget the story, and forget that you are essentially being told where to go. Luckily a lot of the locations and set pieces are so breathtaking that forgetting comes easy.

The tools at your disposal are pretty varied but never overbearing. You have an assortment of cool, unique weapons, some of which you actually have to manually pump, that you can buy attachments for at certain vendors (who are few and far between). You’ll also have a knife, a lighter, a flashlight, a compass and gas masks if you can find them. A lot of the sticky situations you find yourself in can best be handled with stealth, so lights are better used for fighting monsters (or trying to find your way in the labyrinthine tunnels. Seriously it’s pretty easy to get lost, despite your wonderfully cumbersome compass).

Stealth in Metro: Last Light is pretty damn fun, and you’ll probably find yourself naturally doing it, even if you’re more of a fighter at heart. The game is dark, I mean literally, and the way is often only illuminated by lights and lamps, which your human enemies set up around their camps and outposts. Luckily you have a little light that pops up on your watch to let you know if you’re hidden by the shadows or not, this makes it relatively easy to sneak around, extinguishing lamps and enemies as you go.

Interestingly you are given a choice in sneak attacks to use either the hilt or the pointy end of your knife, so if you are so inclined you can spare the lives of most of the people you encounter by simply knocking them out. You’ll come to realise that even the ranks of the evil Nazis have their fair share of innocents, whether they are young and impressionable or simply living in the wrong tunnel at the wrong time, finding themselves working for a faction they don’t necessarily agree with. Morality here is as grey as concrete ruins. You’ll have plenty of time to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations and stories as you tiptoe about, learning about the world of Metro through osmosis. Indeed, in the neutral, heavily populated areas the hussle and bussle can be somewhat overwhelming, the constant, overlapping chatter reminiscent of Ridley Scott’s Alien.

The game really is at it’s strongest when you’re living and breathing the atmosphere, rather than simply following the quite-good narrative. At times it’s hard not to yearn for a more open world, such as what we get with Fallout 3, where Artyom might just have to survive in this hostile environment, perhaps having to catch food and hunt for valuable items (like abandoned crates of pre-war alcohol). The biggest problem is the lack of a true survival element, which is actually a step back from the previous game. Perhaps this is an effort to appeal to a wider demographic, focussing more on the shooty stuff that is so popular with more casual gamers, but the overall result is the game never quite feels bleak enough.

That said, the action is pretty enjoyable, and the game still manages to be fun if and when your cover is blown, and you’re forced to shoot your way out of a situation. Each gun gives a satisfying kick, and humans go down pretty easily. However, that same rule applies to you, so you’ll have to bob and weave through the maze-like enemy bases, reloading and pumping your weapons while desperately searching for a health kit or a dark corner to hide in. The monsters are a different matter entirely, you’ll either have to leg it or gun them down. Some of them will crawl out from some hellish hole, only to shrink back in fright as you hold up the small glow of your lighter, others you’ll hear coming from a mile off, by their trademark, nightmarish screams. Above ground you’ll also have to worry about winged demons. And ghosts.

Metro Last Light is a bloody beautiful game, and not just technically, it’s ambitious and unique, with a style all it’s own, despite the familiar and well-worn, post-apocalyptic setting. The interesting and exciting environments are complimented by an in-depth world aesthetic and brilliant little touches, such as the tools you use to survive, and the NPC character interactions. The story is pretty solid if nothing unremarkable, although the characters themselves are really engaging. Once you accept the game is linear, you can appreciate the excellent pacing, one moment pushing through laughing crowds in safe zones, the next crawling through pitch black tunnels filled with hungry creatures, and then a moments peace in an abandoned shack before sneaking into an enemy base. Metro’s focus is on atmosphere, above all else, and that feels wholly appropriate for a post-apocalyptic game.

Well that’s all from me, I’m heading back outside. The sun has come up now, sliding in and out of view, under the great blanket of clouds. And when a beam of light does shine down from the heavens, and illuminates the skeleton of Moscow, with it’s broken towers and bloated corpses strewn about in the marsh, it really is quite beautiful.

This was written by David Knight. His current whereabouts are unknown.

Mainstream Review: BioShock Infinite

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Gorilla Film Magazine is aware of films, television and games that are actually popular. We don’t put a lot of effort into covering that stuff, but we’re definitely aware of it. So here’s the Mainstream review of the week. 

BioShock Infinite
Release Date: 26/03/13

“No gods or kings, only man.”

The now iconic opening imagery of the original BioShock set the tone for many of the themes it would broach, from free will and player choice to Randian Objectivism. BioShock Infinite opens, fittingly, in much the opposite way. Some of the first imagery you’ll see in Infinite is a sign that reads “Of thy sins, shall I wash thee,” above a basin of water. The citizens of Rapture seemed not to subscribe to any religion, whereas the people of the sky-loft wonder of Columbia are expected to deify and worship America’s founding fathers and their prophet, the main antagonist in Infinite, Father Zachary Comstock. Infinite deals with some heavy themes which Comstock has used as the societal foundation of Columbia, like jingoism, religious fanaticism and racism. But in the end, BioShock Infinite becomes so much more than commentary on any one or group of ideals. It became a truly magnificent and transcendent experience that left me stunned.

The instant I set foot on the gilded, floating city of Columbia, I was speechless. The world Irrational Games has built within Infinite is so beautifully and wholly realised that it’s almost too much to take in. Much of the art is styled after the America of 1912 (the year this is all taking place), with a more fantastical twist. Everything was so perfect, too perfect even, and I immediately felt a strange uneasiness. Everyone seems happy, but as I looked around I saw billboards laden with imagery depicting the need for Columbia and its citizens to “defend against the foreign horde,” and I felt out of place. How could these people be surrounded by such vile messages and still be so happy-go-lucky? Because this is the world they want to live in. Comstock’s world is one of racial and nationalistic prejudice. It’s an extremist version of an American time period, an extreme to which America never actually went, but rather Comstock’s ideal version of it. “More American than America” indeed.

It never feels as though the racism is there just to be there, or for the shallow purpose of shock value. It’s as much an integral part of the identity of Columbia as it was the America it is based on, and as much that as any commentary. In a way, it is kind of just there. This is the way life is in this world, for good or ill. There isn’t necessarily a blatant statement being made on this theme in Infinite, but even if it doesn’t make an outright claim one way or another, smaller details and character interactions hint at what it’s trying to say. At one point, Elizabeth (the story’s lead) comments on the impracticality and inefficiency of having separate facilities for whites and blacks. Having been trapped in a tower all her life, she hasn’t seen racism first-hand, and is puzzled when she eventually encounters it. Booker (the player character) is clearly a man who regrets many of the detestable things he’s done in his past. He happens upon a black man smoking on the job, and the man is immediately worried and apologetic. Booker tells him he has no problem with him, and to enjoy himself.

Those subtle hints at the underlying ideas in BioShock Infinite were effective because of the way they were communicated; through characters I grew to care about. Booker DeWitt is a man with sins he wants to atone for, but even still he isn’t really a good person. He’s a veteran of Wounded Knee, and a former Pinkerton agent. Neither are things he’s particularly proud to have been. The entire premise in Infinite starts out with Booker accepting a job to erase some nasty debts he’s built up through drinking and gambling. That job; go to Columbia and retrieve a girl.

That girl is Elizabeth, BioShock Infinite’s greatest strength. Elizabeth has been locked away in a tower for the entirety of her life, as she possesses a strange power that allows her to alter reality in a way. The way in which her character is developed and explored throughout the game is remarkable, and left her standing tall amongst my favourites in all of videogames. Though, to speak of her as simply a ‘videogame character’ does her a disservice, at times. In the quiet moments, when you’re afforded some time to spend with Elizabeth, she shines. In those instances, she’s more human than any character in a game I can think of. The way she and Booker’s relationship builds and changes throughout Infinite is one of my absolute favorite things in the entire game, and their conclusion is what left me breathless at Infinite’s end. It becomes obvious BioShock Infinite is more about Elizabeth than anything else.

Infinite isn’t a one-note instrument, though, proven by those aforementioned calm moments. Much of the time the tone is serious and heavy, and you will be shooting people often, but there is levity interspersed throughout the journey. Each spell of lightness comes at the exact right time, and makes for a near-perfectly paced adventure. These brief respites don’t only serve to pace the game technically, though. Each of those moments meant something more to me, were used to such an effect that I wished for more of them, more time to spend with Elizabeth or gaze at the surface-beauty of Columbia, as it was in that calm opening hour. It never takes long for those calm moments to ramp up into incredible moments of action, punctuated by violence. If there was one thing I wanted more of it would have been those quite, calm moments of exploration, or time to talk with and get to know Elizabeth.

BioShock Infinite is a very violent game, and that can at times be distracting and almost overwhelming. But violence is one of the themes that’s carried throughout the entire experience and underscores the world of Columbia. I felt no disconnect between the narrative and gameplay as Booker DeWitt is a man with a violent past, and a trained killer. And though the world of Columbia is a bright and beautiful place, its undercurrent is one of violence and hostility. This undercurrent flows upward in the often brutal combat, as an effective contrast to the setting on its face. Most importantly, I didn’t feel Infinite ever glorified the violence. Often, Elizabeth will gasp and be disgusted when she witnesses you mangle an enemy, and that alone made me more conscious of my actions. Part of the point I felt Infinite was trying to make was that you aren’t supposed to feel good about this violence. It’s supposed to be disconcerting.

Despite not reveling in the violence of it’s combat, it still manages to be enjoyable. The mechanics are very similar to that of BioShock 2; you have a variety of guns and vigors, which are effectively plasmids. This time around, though, the combat is much less tactical, and more focused on movement and is far more frantic. This is in large part due to the addition of skylines, rails that allow you to move through the sky at incredible speeds, which completely change the dynamic of battles. They offer a sense of movement through a combat space that few games have ever had. The sheer variety of options provided through firearms, vigors and the ways they can be combined, environmental hazards, Elizabeth’s tear power (which allows her to bring additional items into battle to aid Booker, such as more guns, health kits or an ally turret), and the exhilarating skylines make BioShock Infinite one of the most enjoyable shooters I’ve played. One aspect I took issue with was that the vigors don’t really fit into this world in the same way plasmids did in the original BioShock. The world is littered with them, but few enemies use them, and their inclusion is never really explained. A small and ultimately inconsequential gripe.

BioShock Infinite is a game with character, a strong sense of self, and is filled with ideas and ambition. Some of the more lofty ideas aren’t explored as deeply as others, but through everything it gave me in its characters, world, narrative and gameplay, I couldn’t be less bothered. There are so many things I want to say about it, I feel I’ve barely scratched the surface. I’ve said nothing of its fantastic music, both anachronistic and original, the interesting way it applies and twists real world science, or two of my favorite characters in the Lutece twins. It’s been a couple of weeks since I finished it now, and I still think about it daily. What I went through with Booker and Elizabeth is a journey I’ll never forget, and one that changed some of the ways I think about games. If you care about videogames at all, BioShock Infinite is worth your time.

This was written by videogame person Eric Mack. You can read more things he wrote on the Gorilla website.

Mainstream Review: Tomb Raider

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Gorilla Film Magazine is aware of films, television and games that are actually popular. We don’t put a lot of effort into covering that stuff, but we’re definitely aware of it. So here’s the Mainstream review of the week. 

Tomb Raider
Release Date: 05/03/13

If you have any doubts about this latest addition (and total reboot) of the tomb raiding franchise, let me put your mind at ease right off the bat. Don’t. Tomb Rader is Lara Croft’s greatest outing, hands down.

Classic Tomb Raider games are fondly remembered, and somewhat rightfully so, but they pale in comparison to Crystal Dynamics’ latest effort. Lara is now a real character with depth, not just a set of polygons assembled to vaguely resemble a person. Her journey is full of bombastic, fast-paced action, balanced with slow-paced and methodical exploration, which feels natural and satisfying. And, yes, you will probably raid a few tombs.

The journey begins as Lara finds herself aboard the Endeavour, a ship bound for wonder and mystery. The adventure hits the ground running while Lara and her companions are still only warming up. Thus, she and her crew are shipwrecked on an island in a strange area known as the Dragon’s Triangle (akin to the Bermuda Triangle as far as danger and intrigue are concerned). Lara is separated from her crew and must do whatever it takes to survive.

Here starts what developer Crystal Dynamics has been touting as Lara’s transformation from a green, young explorer to a hardened, ruthless and efficient tomb raider. Lara’s journey and character development are a small but important step in the right direction, concerning the portrayal of women in games. Her growth feels natural and real, and she’s displayed with a respect and eventual strength that are uplifting. However, the way in which Lara’s character develops can occasionally stray to the disturbing side, mostly in the opening hours of the game. The extent to which Lara is assaulted early on straddles the line between excessive and sadistic, and sticks a toe across that line once or twice. Thankfully, that’s reigned in after the first couple of hours and never manifests into a real issue.

Structurally, Tomb Raider is a sort of hybrid game, combining an equipment-gated open world with a linear action-adventure. It’s excellently paced and put together, with each area in the world feeling naturally connected to the others, creating a cohesive whole.

The way in which new areas are accessed periodically throughout the adventure is similar to the structure of a Metroid game; as you progress through the story, you’ll gain new equipment that will in turn allow you to access those new locations. Tomb Raider is as much a platformer as anything else, and as such, accessing these areas almost always includes climbing or jumping of some sort, both of which feel very responsive, so that traversal is always fun.

When Lara isn’t busy being battered, bruised or otherwise abused, she’s want to do a bit of extracurricular tomb raiding. Luckily, she ended up stranded on an island consisting of several beginner level tombs to practice her newfound hobby on. Truthfully, there aren’t all that many optional tombs to explore throughout the whole of Lara’s ordeal, but what is there is interesting and fun enough a distraction to be worth the time they’ll take to complete. It is a shame there aren’t more, and that each only takes ten minutes or less to solve. On the upside, many of the story beats also consist of puzzles in places that are essentially tombs by any other name.

One thing that’s never in short supply in Tomb Raider, (unlike the actual tombs) is high-octane, set-piece focused action. Roughly a half-dozen times I found myself running through a building or environment that was either on fire or exploding, and it was, to my surprise, always a blast. During these linear set-piece sections, Lara will often find herself faced with a group of enemies to overcome. She can do so in a variety of ways, be it stealthily with her trusty bow or pickaxe, or running-and-gunning with more traditional firearms. The violence can occasionally be very graphic, both in Lara’s death animations and in the way enemies can be killed, almost unnecessarily so. Lara will often find herself falling down cliffs, into rivers, and onto sharp objects, but it always remains gruesome, largely thanks to highly effect but gut-wrenching sound design.

Indeed, the extreme violence is where Tomb Raider’s biggest issue surfaces. The difference between Lara’s character and demeanour in cut-scenes and her actions during gameplay can be very jarring. She’ll go from scared and disturbed from having had to kill someone for the first time, straight to wiping out a group of assailants. This has come to be known as Ludonarrative Dissonance, in which the player’s actions when controlling the character display a major inconsistency with the narrative aspects of the game determined by the developers. It’s a tough thing to work around, though. The developer is at once tasked with telling the story they want to tell, and providing a game that’s also fun to play. The alternative in this case would have been to scale down the action and most of the killing, for a more slow-paced and gradual transition, but that might not have made for such enjoyable gameplay.

Experiencing Lara Croft’s struggle to survive first-hand has been, admittedly, inspiring. It’s rare to find a game that displays a female character with such respect and strength, as a real subject opposed to an object. It’s refreshing, and makes me hopeful for the continuation and success of this particular franchise reboot. A reboot is normally inducive of an eye-roll, but in this case it’s exactly what the series needed. And while there is a mildly troublesome disconnect between Lara narratively and the violent action in-game, Tomb Raider still succeeds in developing her character in a meaningful way and providing a game that’s a whole lot of fun to play at the same time.

This was written by videogame person Eric Mack. You can read more things he wrote on the Gorilla website.

Mainstream Review: Ni no Kuni: Wrath of the White Witch

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Gorilla Film Magazine is aware of films, television and games that are actually popular. We don’t put a lot of effort into covering that stuff, but we’re definitely aware of it. So here’s the Mainstream review of the week. 

Ni no Kuni: Wrath of the White Witch
Release Date: 01/02/13

Ni no Kuni: Wrath of the White Witch (Or, Second Country: The Queen of White Sacred Ash, depending on your preference) is a PlayStation 3 videogame by Level-5 and Studio Ghibli, and it’s almost agonisingly twee.

The story follows a young American boy called Oliver, who lives in a rose-tinted little town called Motorville where everyone is unbearably nice, and the streets are impossibly clean. This being co-developed by Studio Ghibli (and it really does feel like playing in one of their beautifully realised worlds) Motorville resembles an idealised, postcard-perfect 1950′s dream, and there’s plenty of magic in the air before any of the fantasy world stuff is even introduced.

The music is gorgeous, which of course you would expect from Joe Hisaishi, the composer of most of Ghibli’s films, and the English speaking cast all do a surprisingly admirable job bringing the characters to life, although it’s not really explained why nearly everyone has an English accent. That’s fantasy realms for you, I guess.

Anyway, Ni no Kuni has Ghibli’s paws all over it, so naturally a tragedy occurs in Motorville, and Oliver is compelled to travel to another dimension to set things right. I say compelled, he’s more or less bullied into going by a grumpy little fairy called Drippy, the player’s wise-cracking sidekick, who is convinced Oliver has what it takes to save his world from the evil White Witch. Drippy is hands down the best voiced character in the game; his thick Welsh accent perfectly compliments his cheeky, straight-talking character and gives him a certain amount of edge. Indeed, his gruff no-nonsense attitude and general bullying of Oliver is the only break we get from the overwhelmingly sweet sentimentality of the game. Seriously, even the monsters you battle are adorable.

Speaking of, the battles are like a cross between Final Fantasy and Pokémon; you start a fight by bumping into someone or something, and then you fling your familiars (if you don’t know what a familiar is, go read any generic Fantasy book) at the badguys and select commands such as attack, defend or special move to bash your foes to oblivion.

The game really begins once Oliver travels to Drippy’s world, and adopts the role of wizard (because, y’know, might as well), this new magical landscape is where you’ll explore, fight monsters, collect friends and familiars, and do the majority of the fetch quests (that make up most of the experience).

This is an RPG, so there’s lots of grinding, levelling up both you and your little familiar buddies, with seemingly endless perks and powers to unlock. There’s also a lot of conversation with strangers, as just about everyone in the world has something to say, and many of them want your help. One of the more interesting concepts in the game is the idea that feelings like love, confidence and enthusiasm are commodities, to be taken from those who have plenty and given to those who are lacking, in order to make more well rounded and well balanced people. The exact connotations of this rather terrifying power that apparently all wizards posses is largely swept under the carpet, with a quick warning to ‘use your powers wisely’ seeming to suffice.

The wonderful world of Ni no Kuni is a joy to inhabit, largely because it feels like you’re inside one of Studio Ghibli’s mesmerising animations. There are even one or two special cut scenes that are animated by the Studio, and they really help sell the idea that this is truly a Ghibli game. That said, you don’t actually even need these little indulgences, because the environment in which you play gets the feel of the Ghibli Universe spot on. The attention to detail is sublime, and the lush colours and animated characters give your eyes plenty to feast on.

The actual gameplay itself is surprisingly challenging, and at times it feels like that twee, carefree veneer hides a spiky little heart. The game delights in pricking your patience and rubbing your face in your failures, but nevertheless it’s always fair. There’s a lot of work required, to make it anywhere in the game, but that’s OK because Ni no Kuni is so immersive and impressive you find yourself willing to make the extra effort.

If you’re the kind of person who finds themselves, at 3am, staring longingly at the warm glow of your television, which is playing Kiki’s Delivery Service for the third time that week, and wishing you could jump into the screen and be magically transported into that world, rather than, say, crumpled in a heap of blood and bones, then Ni no Kuni is probably about as close as you’re going to get to happiness. It feels like you’re experiencing the magic of Ghibli first hand, and it just also happens to be a well-crafted, thoroughly thought-out game- which is a nice bonus.

Now if you’ll excuse me I’m to go cry for an extended period of time.

This was written by David Knight.

Mainstream Review: Hitman: Absolution

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Gorilla Film Magazine is aware of films, television and games that are actually popular. We don’t put a lot of effort into covering that stuff, but we’re definitely aware of it. So here’s the Mainstream review of the week. 

Hitman: Absolution
Release Date: 20/11/2012 

Agent 47 is back, and balder than ever, in Hitman: Absolution, the fifth instalment of the videogame franchise that gives players the opportunity to play as a ruthless assassin. I say ‘opportunity’ because it really is down to you how competent 47 is as a professional killer; each new environment in the game is essentially a sandbox, with multiple ways to carry out each hit, ranging from mowing everyone down with your trademark Silverballers, to only executing your target, and making it look like an accident.

Absolution has already sparked controversy in the gaming world (yes that’s a thing) with the release of it’s Attack of the Saints trailer, which featured sexy, latex-clad killer nuns being brutally killed by Agent 47. Whether intentional or not, the trailer is deeply misogynistic, but luckily doesn’t reflect the game itself. Yes there are scantily clad female characters in Hitman: Absolution, but it’s all about context, because despite it’s grim and grubby aesthetic, and it’s scowling, hard boiled protagonist, Hitman is very definitely a comedy.

It’s surprising just how well crafted the dialogue in the game actually is, not in the main story, which is the usual boring nonsense, but in the actual levels themselves. As Hitman you remain silent, either disguised (the ability to knock a man out and steal his clothes never gets old) or hiding in the shadows, listening to clues in conversations between guards, handymen, or whomever happens to be standing around. These conversations vary from useful tips: “I sure love to drink coffee, if someone wanted to poison me, that’d be the way to do it” and just comic relief for the sake of it. A great example is during an early mission, as 47 is scaling a building built on a cliff edge, he overhears a guard talking to his doctor on the phone “it’s not prostate cancer? This is the best day of my life!” which is your cue to pull the poor bastard out an open window and send him hurtling to the rocks below. Another example is during a mission in a strip club, where one of the scantily clad ladies confides in you that she’s actually a man, and that she hates waxing her moustache.

The Hitman universe is nasty, brutal, sexist and insane, but it’s also self aware, and plays with all these concepts to great comic effect. The actual missions themselves are very satisfying to complete, and players are encouraged to look for the cleanest kill (which are always the most satisfying). In a way, this makes the game considerably less violent than most shooters out there, because although killing everyone in your path is easier, you feel compelled to take the hard route, and only murder the actual target, which means you might go through a whole level and only kill one person.

There is a downside to Absolution, and that’s mainly the lack of diversity in the levels; the plot follows a linear narrative, so 47 does most of his work in three big locations. Within that, there are a lot of different environments, from hotels to libraries, to a bustling marketplace in Chinatown, but it lacks the globetrotting of Blood Money (the previous Hitman game) where 47 went from a vineyard in Chili to a Rehab Centre in California to a Christmas themed porn party in the Rocky Mountains. Furthermore the missions themselves felt separate, which was part of Hitman’s charm, whereas Absolution has this strange desire to tell a story, which connects all of the missions and shrinks the scope of the game.

Overall Hitman triumphs; the gameplay is rewarding, the environments are rich in detail and the characters you meet (and kill) are all a lot of fun in their own way. There’s also ‘Contracts mode’ for people playing online, which lets you make your own Hitman missions (basically by selecting targets and the preferred method of assassination) and sharing it with your online friends, who are probably naked and covered in jam and crisps (for all you know). And if you get bored you can always play the Hitman drinking game: take a shot every time your cover is blown, and two if you kill an innocent person. You’ll be surprised at how quickly agent 47 changes from a cool, collected, professional assassin to somebody that more closely resembles Mr. Bean.

This was written by David Knight. 

Food for Thought and Some Optimistic Conjecture

Recently I was struck by the sheer number of ‘good’/'artsy’/'pretentious’/'indie’ films playing at the cinemas around London. The listings were made up of smaller budget non-blockbuster releases; We Need to Talk About Kevin, Drive, Melancholia, Tyrannosaur and trailers for the now released The Artist. As a PPE graduate with too much time on his hands this got me to thinking about a number of things that I have been aware of and considering for some time. Tentatively, and with more than a pinch of optimism, it strikes me that there are a number of good reasons why we should think that this is a sign of things to come.

Hollywood currently generates most of its revenue from its foreign, and not its domestic market. This has led to a decline in the number of relatively cheap romantic comedies, ‘bromances’ and other films of the like being produced. Mostly this is due to them being relatively unpopular, or at least much riskier bets, in places like China, Russia and other big emerging markets. In their place major Hollywood studios have instead focused of producing only one or two $100/200m plus budget releases a year. These action and special effects heavy spectaculars, backed by massive advertising budgets and rapid release of DVD’s, BluRay and other merchandise, translate well across boarders and consistently do well at the box office, turning big profits. The most obvious recent example of this being Avatar and the Harry Potter franchise (‘The Deathly Hallows’ had a budget of $250m for the two parts combined) although the trend is also present in Hollywood’s appetite for more traditional fantasy releases like the Narnia franchise, The Golden Compass (I know it did badly) and The Lord of the Rings trilogy. This is a trend that I don’t see changing any time soon and is also hopefully one that will continue to leave space on mainstream cinema listings for more independent /character driven films.

There is also a second force at play here. Not only is it the case that the listings have more space for films other than blockbusters, but also that consumers are able to satisfy their demand for glitzy action epics by substituting computer games for cinema tickets. It is no secret that Hollywood has been losing ground to the computer game industry.

Computer games kind of have blockbuster escapism covered

Over the last decade it is a market that has grown exponentially with games like Modern Warfare 3 taking $750m in its first five days as compared to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows which took $169m in its first weekend. Games like Modern Warfare 3 or the recently released and heavily hyped Skyrim, provide viable substitutes for people looking to satisfy there desire for fantasy adventures, pornographic violence and battlefield action in a manner that is more cost effective than paying for a cinema ticket to Immortals, Transformers or Thor.

Looking forward into this year and beyond, maybe we can quietly hope that, if current trends continue, those of us of a more sensitive nature and an aversion to the usual ‘play it safe’ clichéd Hollywood fare will have a lot more opportunities to sit down and enjoy the silver screen.

This was written by Alex Megone.

What is Gorilla Film Magazine?

So what exactly is Gorilla Film Magazine? Well we’re certainly not just one thing, that would be ridiculous. In addition to this blog there’s obviously a rather awesome website, where we review both feature films and shorts, and archive a lot of films we like, so you can watch them straight from our site. We also have a fair bit of film theory, news about upcoming film-related events, as well as interviews with interesting filmmakers. Incidentally, as we’re all young, hip and cool, we’ve got our very own Facebook page, managed by this guy, and a Tw*tter account to keep you in the loop. It’s totally rad. People still say rad, right?

Of course primarily we’re a magazine, which means there are 64 page, full colour copies of Gorilla Film Magazine floating around London. Issues 1 and 2 have already been printed, and are full of sexy content you won’t find on the site. We have interviews with people like Elliot Grove, Oscar Sharp and Jack Garfein, a ton of stuff on the independent film world, tips on practical filmmaking including guides on how to write scripts and identifying stories and characters. We even have our very own ‘top five’ lists, and if you want an example of how we handle such an overused formula, check out our Top Five Alternatives to Summer Blockbusters on the website.

Gorilla Film Magazine wants to raise awareness for films and projects you might not otherwise have heard of, and talk about film in an interesting way without getting bogged down by too much pretentious waffle. There’s plenty of tips for aspiring filmmakers, as well as some down to earth theoritical stuff, including a continuing essay about movie monsters.

If you want to grab yourself a copy, you can buy them online. They’re about four pounds, depending on where you are, and we’ll use the money to buy alcohol print more copies.

We don’t just make magazines, blogs and websites though, we’re not lazy, we also spend a good deal of time hosting or co-hosting events around London. We’ve had film nights, we did a Treasure Hunt for the East End Film Festival, a 46 Hour Film Competition and entertained the Student Film Festival with our spin-the-wheel premise-making game. We’ll keep you informed about our next event, hopefully we’ll get to do a lot more film nights soon.

Finally, an important part of Gorilla Film Magazine is the community, we like the idea that anyone can get in touch with an idea for an article, or a film they want to send us. If you’d like to get involved in any way, send us an email to content@gorillafilmmagazine.com. We welcome all contributions, and if we like you we’ll happily promote your work.

So that’s us, Gorilla Film Magazine. Issue 3 will be coming online very soon, as a kind of celebration of our new and improved website, so stay tuned for that. If you have any further questions I believe the video below should make everything clear. Have a wonderful day.

Limbo, a twisted fairy tale now available on the PlayStation Network

On the 20th of July Limbo finally become available for the PlayStation Network, the stylish downloadable title had already been available on Xbox Live for about a year, but due to some exclusivity rights too uninteresting to go into here, I’ve only just this week got my dirty little mittens on it.

Limbo is a side-scrolling platform game, kind of like Mario, but nothing like Mario. The controls are wonderfully simple, you can go left or right, jump, climb, pull and push, there’s no health bar, no heads-up display, no score system, no weapons and no inventory. You play as a small, bright-eyed boy, who wakes up in a bleak, lonely wood (with no prior backstory or cutscene) and all you know is that you have to keep moving forwards because, well, that’s what you do in games, right?

For perhaps the first time, I really felt like I was playing some kind of interactive cartoon, and the lack of any menus on the screen certainly fed this fanciful illusion. As you journey through this oddly beautiful landscape, you begin to encounter obstacles and puzzles that block your path, and it soon becomes apparent that this environment is not only unfriendly, but disturbingly violent. The boy is little more than a silhouette, but his big head and scout shorts gives him a Christopher Robin appearance, which would be twee if it weren’t for the endless horrifying deaths I put him through, as I stumbled blindly into bear traps, spike pits and buzz saws, ripping the child limb from limb too many times to remember.

There is a trial and error element to Limbo, as many of the traps are so fiendish, the only way of figuring out how to avoid them is to die and die again. And while the whole game takes place in an undefined, charcoal world of thick blacks and washed out greys, each death felt painful, even without a single splash of red. The use of sound here is incredibly important, it would have been easy to build a mournful soundtrack to cheat a feeling of anxiety, but for the most part the music is absent. Limbo is at it’s best when eerily quiet, with only the faint woodland ambient washing over you, soaking you in loneliness and dread, the buzzing of flies drawing all of your attention, right up until the horrible crunch of some unnoticed trap hammering into your skull.

Limbo really feels like a journey, as you venture through a powerful, primal forest into a wasteland of butchered trees, a forgotten city and, eventually, into the belly of some vast, industrial machine. The landscape is intense, totally monochrome but never fully defined, a grey mist lingers over you, and washes out the background, creating a mysterious world of eery light and dancing shadows.

Sadly, the game loses a lot of it’s personality during the later parts of the game, and the feeling of tension swiftly vanishes as soon as you leave the wood. It’s a real shame, because the intoxicating, archaic woodland has a ton of personality, it’s rich, immersive and very, very oppressive. Shadows play tricks on you, tangled branches look like grouping fingers, bloated corpses hang from trees or bob in pools of thick, murky water. You use the dead to ferry you across lakes, or drag their bodies onto tripwires to set off immense traps, and all the while the little silhouetted Christopher Robin says nothing, you just keep moving forward.

This forest section of the game is very evocative, a kind of dark fairy tale, teasing a mythology that is rightly never explored. Understanding the uncanny, and the underlying themes of fables, and death, the Danish game developer Playdead have constructed a game that is saturated in meaning, while remaining ambiguous and only vaguely hinting at a story. Playdead understands the significance of the gargantuan bugs that haunt your step, and the ethereal little girl who plays beneath a broken tree house, these are tied to nursery rhymes and the old wives tales of folklore.

There are many themes that are touched upon in Limbo, from the obvious tale of two lost spirits to the death of nature, the rise of the soulless machine and the uncanny worlds of dreams and death. While Limbo never fully explores these ideas, it is refreshing to see them as the subject of a video game, and the consistent art style creates a fantastical world that is strangely beautiful in spite of itself. Limbo is not a long game, and it is not a hard game to complete by any means, but it is an experience, and it masterfully creates a deep, rich, suffocating world that is a joy to inhabit.

Limbo was released on the PlayStation Network on the 20th July 2011, and is about £10. You can check out the trailer below, although if you’re unfamiliar with the game you may want to skip it, as it spoils some of the surprises. You can check out the official website by clicking on this link. 

Journey

I know I keep saying this, but downloadable video games are proving to be the gaming equivalent of low-budget films, providing a platform for developers who wouldn’t normally get a chance to share their vision. Well, Thatgamecompany (good name) is an indie video game developer founded by Kellee Santiago and Jenova Chen, who basically made their first game in their last year of University. Since then they’ve proved that games can truly inspire deep emotional responses in players, with Flow and Flower, both simple but beautiful downloadable games.

In Flow, you play as a multi-segmented aquatic worm.

The intention of these rather lovely games is to create a feeling, a mood, in the player, it’s almost like meditation and provides an experience that is unique to the game medium. The fact that so many games are now really exploring the potential of the artform, rather than trying to copy movies (like so many of the bigger, more expensive titles), is really encouraging, and proves that the video game industry is finally getting to grips with it’s identity.

In Flower, you play the wind, as it blows flower petals through the air. 

Thatgamecompany’s latest downloadable title is Journey, and although it doesn’t have a release date, it is expected to be available this year (but only for the PlayStation network). Journey is looking to be a very ambitious title, it takes place in a vast desert, with no map or instructions. A huge mountain glimmers in the distance, and the players only objective is to reach it, traversing the landscape on a lonely pilgrimage in a strange land. The game welcomes online play, so you can make the journey with others, but there are no names, nothing to distinguish the other players and no way to communicate. It is possible to help one another, or ignore each other completely, regardless it is a far cry from most multiplayer experiences, which generally involve shooting each other with loud guns. The objective of Journey is to create a shared experience which isn’t about violence, it’s shifting the perception of what a game can be and that’s a really exciting idea.

Journey will be released some time this year and will be available on the PlayStationNetwork.

Flow and Flower are both available on the PlayStationNetwork.

Papo & Yo and the integrity of the Video Game artform

Everyone is aware of the ongoing debate about video games legitimacy as an artform, and it’s not hard to see both sides of the argument. That said, we are certainly seeing a lot of really adventurous and provocative titles in the gaming industry right now, as developers continue to push the boundaries of what is acceptable/profitable. For me, there have certainly been stand out moments of artistic integrity in the gaming world, the Oddworld series in the late nineties invited players into a vast, beautiful landscape that was as thought provoking and emotional as it was playful and humorous.

One of many beautiful landscapes in Oddworld: Abe’s Exodus.

2005′s Psychonauts was a gaming experience that allowed players to infiltrate character’s minds, battle their demons and attempt to weave their sanity back together. Each level was a different mind, and the visual style changed dramatically depending on the personality of the host. For example at one point you enter the mind of a mutated fish monster, and become a Godzilla-sized behemoth, as you make your where through a city inhabited by terrified fish civilians. Later in the game your own mind becomes mixed with that of your host, so that the environment becomes a bizarre circus inhabited by horrific butchered animals.

 A suburb gets twisted into a surrealist nightmare in Psychonauts.

In Shadow of the Colossus, which also came out in 2005, there was a total of sixteen enemies throughout the entire game, but they were so big you had to scale their bodies to defeat them. A portion of the game was taken up with the player travelling through this vast, lonely world, on horseback, armed only with a sword and a bow. As you explored this environment, the only suggestion of other life, aside from the birds and lizards, was the immense architecture of some forgotten civilisation. The Colossi felt very real, everything from the way they moved to the detail on their huge bodies, they looked ancient, as if they had risen from part of the landscape, and when defeated would return to the earth. There was an incredible grace, beauty and even melancholy to the creatures, and you felt genuinely guilty for destroying them.

One of the smaller creatures in Shadow of the Colossus. 

It is wonderfully easy to have empathetic connections with characters in games, because we actively make decisions that affect them. The interaction of the player is the most important attribute of a game, and separates it from other mediums. The very fact that we must intervene in order to ensure a happy ending, gives the game weight, it creates tension and motivates the player. Humans can form emotional attachments to anything, from animals to inanimate objects, so it’s not such a great leap to care about the characters the player interacts with throughout the narrative of a video game. Recently, games have been more and more daring with how they tell their stories, most notably Heavy Rain, which attempted to create a mature game for lovers of narrative.

Taking your son to school is just one of many adventures in Heavy Rain.

Personally I don’t think Heavy Rain is a step in the right direction for the future of games, because it seemed to emulate the narrative structure of a film, when it should be celebrating the attributes of a game that makes it a unique medium. Naturally, game developers still have a long way to go before the medium can be properly defined, because at the moment it’s still a bit up in the air as to what a video game actually is. However, games are evolving at a much faster rate than any other artform, so there’s certainly a possibility the video game medium will finally find it’s identity in our lifetime.

A welcome new branch of gaming can be found in the downloadable titles, which are very much the equivalent of the short film movement. Downloadable games are much cheaper to make, and so are afforded the luxury of experimentation, while the blockbuster titles such as Modern Warfare have to remain as diluted and bland as possible, in order to appeal to a wider market.

One such downloadable title is Papo & Yo, scheduled for a 2012 release for the PlayStation 3. Papo & Yo is an adventure game, and the debut release of a studio called Minority, financially supported by Sony’s Pub Fund. The game was conceived by Vander Caballero, the Creative Director at Minority, and tells the story of a young boy called Quico who lives in the Favelas in South America. His best friend and protector is ‘Monster’ a large pink beast that loves Quico but is unfortunately addicted to frogs, and when he eats them he transforms into an evil creature, full of fury, that attempts to destroy everything in his path, including Quico. If you’re thinking this story sounds oddly metaphorical, then you’re quite right, because Papo & Yo is really the story of  Vander Caballero and the relationship he had with his alcoholic father.

Your best friend is also your worst enemy in Papo & Yo.

The idea is quite powerful, but only because of the unique interactive quality of a video game. Players will have the opportunity to experience, on some small level, Caballero’s life with his father, as they enjoy his friendly, placid nature up until the point he turns into an evil beast. And when that happens, there is an instinctive desire to cure Monster, to save him from his illness. There are indeed fruits that you can give the beast, to sober him and return him to his placid state, at least until he finds another frog. The relief the player feels when Monster is subdued is supposed to emulate that same feeling Caballero himself would have when his father was no longer in his monstrous alcohol fueled rage.

The point of Papo & Yo is to attempt what so many good children’s stories (and recently, Pixar films) have achieved, by telling a dark, but necessary fable that is accessible to a family audience. The theme may be dark, but the game doesn’t need to be, indeed the whimsical environment the game is set in is itself a world created by Quico as a way to deal with the darkness in his life.

Although it will be a while before Papo & Yo is available to play, it’s existence certainly bodes well for the gaming community, whether or not the gameplay will live up to the concept, it is certainly a step in the right direction. Unfortunately, the video games that make the most profit are usually the soulless, generic blockbuster titles, as is the case with the movie industry. However that is not to say that all games should be measured by these few, as indeed Transformers is not representative of the medium of film.