Tagged PC

The first and a half paragraphs are copy-pasted from my initial impressions back when the game first launched. I left them as-is since they good intros to begin with.

Setting a superpower narrative within the backdrop of a contemporary office space, be it from a retiree or the everyman, isn’t that unique - even before the revitalization of the superhero boom, Marvel toyed around with the idea through Kurt Busiek and Alex Ross’ Marvels miniseries, plus Dwanye McDuffie and Ernie Colón’s creation Damage Control - but its reuse stems from its reliability. It becomes easier to set the world or tell a specific theme of (super)heroes if you start within a smaller sect, then work upwards for the more climactic battles or character resolutions, and for the Dispatch’s first batch, that means settling in on familiar stylisms after a a second wind, while trying to sew in a fair bit of new tricks via a different source of comedic timing/ideas.

Although working off the bones of Telltale Games’s formula - right down to having some alums such as Nick Herman, Dennis Lenart, and Pierre Shorette, who worked The Walking Dead Season 1, The Wolf Among Us, and Tales From The Borderlands, i.e. the "good" ones¹ - there’s been a shift within the usual Point & Click mold they’re known for; you still have to select certain dialog choices² and do QTE prompts (or let them all play out via a toggle option in the menus), but not only is the latter sparsely available, the bulk of the loop is now centered around the titular dispatch mechanic that’s vaguely reminiscent of Weappy Studios’ This Is The Police duology, or perhaps a severely simplified version of Introversion Software’s Uplink; read the description, do your best job at parsing which stat is the most important (thankfully doable, since the diction and phrasing are all consistent with what you will initially read it as), get the results. Interspliced with these segments are a hacking minigame of sorts that pops up occasionally, either within their own separate missions or as an option should you be indecisive about which. Checking each Z-Team reformer's tab details their idiosyncratic abilities necessary for proper rollouts, and their personalities chitters sparsely through the intercoms, staving off the feeling of seeing these as just numbers. Compounded by branching choices cropping up - a few of which could also ask for a specific character to do their unique option if they were sent - and being allowed build opportunities to hone dedicated workerbees to suit one or a few jobs in order to keep the momentum going.

In fact, as the game escalates, so too do these mechanics, even if they're only done in unique circumstances: your dispatchers will sabotage each other just so that they won't be at the bottom of the boards in Episode 3; picking up Phenomaman or Waterboy in Episode 4 is the difference between an immense glass cannon that will crumble if you fail just once, or a meek all-rounder that can easily slot into any 2-4 call slots to give the stats an extra wedge one way or the other; as you progress, you'll be able to hit stat points that either give extra XP, or will immediately fail the mission, thereby necessitating stricter point distribution and/or team balancing to make sure the odds are in your favor; even hacking becomes more involved, as you soon face frequency follows, security drones hovering towards you, and energy sources that are needed to combat the former and power up separate nodes to hastily complete them. are pointedly mentioned due to the prior three names being mentioned as their key works, it isn't just those that you can feel remnants of the previous company's fingerprints on. After a point, you start to feel a relationship dynamic and choiceplay strongly tied to what The Batman Series: The Enemy Within was dabbling with, which really surprised me. Sure, a lot of these are blatant, but the way these "game" and "story" proponents inform one another is exciting, and thus makes it the most involved TTG-style narrative adventure of its ilk in the modern era, least from what I've dabbled in thus far.

On that note, the emphasis on the key players - Invisigal, the delinquent that’s as troubled as she is loud, Z-Team itself, and the Torrance Superhero Dispatch Network branch that main character Robert Robertson works at (who, more specifically, interacts with superhero manager Blonde Blazer, Chase AKA Track Star, and Royd the buff techno-geek) - does well to keep the “illusion” of choice making in check, because what’s said to them informs the reactions after that point. This is something I find a lot of people tend to miss about TTG choicemaking, and even most of the heavy leaning to that sorta thing back in 7th Gen: what made the choices have weight to them, even after the facade faded, was that it focused on the aftermath from another person’s POV, not just your own. Clementine in TWD S1 is the best example, but even that game’s final villain explicitly names this out onto you, and there’s cases like Snow White in TWAU and the Loader Bot, Sasha, and Vaughn for TFTB. This, by itself, is already commendable, but it’s made better by the interactions each faction has that elevates these decisions into something more. Choosing one of the ladies as your preferred love interest is as seamless as it is just establishing platonic rapport, and cutscenes are changed accordingly to keep each one’s arc and place within Robert’s desire of what he truly wants after heroing takes his toll somehow doesn’t contradict or break kayfabe - it’s all part of the morals and information available since day one! Sure, for writing in other forms of art this doesn’t strike too hard, but in video games, where this aspect has always underdelivered, being able to provide satisfactory kinship between these two at all is astonishingly tight, let alone the fact that you can still be able to keep the friendship intact after aborting any romance paths.

I've had some minor to moderate quibbles that's been largely consistent throughout, such as the TTG "Staples" of hit-and-miss voice acting and some animation quirks, but even these aren't too damaging in the long run - whoever was the voice director made sure the worst of Cr1tikal's acting were kept at a minimum, while also having JackSepticEye and Alanah Pearce's contributions work to establishing some of my favorite characters (Punch Up and Malevola respectively), and not only are the rare animation missteps rare (the most notable ones are during scenes where they were clearly storyboarded to handle one choice outcome but not the other), any involved and spectacle-heavy action choreographies and setdressing during the prerendered cutscenes are met with appropriate care and budget/focus. With all of that said, and after messaging about it with YoDoops on Discord, both of us reached the same point: our major issues laid within Episode 8 - specifically, its second half. Little spoilers will be mentioned, but I will generally keep to vague descriptions of what occurs.

After the first half of holdouts, immense rectification, and Choices Mattering in, it begins a stark and unusual shift towards the mundane elements that it mainly steered clear from: all the hacking minigames and the buildup in intricacies for them are thrown out for a series of QTE prompts that could likely mean nothing if you played your cards right; the main arc for Invisigal's inner conflict is tepidly rushed through despite (or because of) constant reinforcement about how her predicament is paralleled to Robert's should he have been treated harsher and/or differently growing up, resulting in a Final Choice that's equal parts warranted as it is abrupt; all the choices critical to success, and would likely serve as strong deterrents to the immense defense that happens at this point in the end, made during the mission calls are eerily absent, harkening back to the common complaint that what you end up doing will no longer matter when push comes to shove; Shroud's thematic and moral coil within coming to our own, as well as how the decisions we make are largely "figured out" by a higher, obsessive power made within a metasense³, as well as being the person who kickstarted the whole plot, feels largely inconsequential within his own showing, as though he's mainly a stepping stone for a bigger, tougher bad that Torrance SDN will face, and the ramifications that come during and after his spiel feels more like footnotes than a large-scale sweep of what everyone will feel moving forward.

There's two aspects to this final batch that are particularly damning. The first is that, simply put, I did not care enough to explore the differing and intriguing options that my second file was explicitly made for, given that the path to The Best Choices was clearly laid out for me. It was strange, since there was a tight balancing between making sure these two weights were roughly in equilibrium, but now it has the nagging sense that I must be making the Good Choices by poignantly mentioning them in dialog. The second is the transitory and culminating period between Everyman and Heroism being stilted in execution - it's believable that the Z-Team's efforts and camaraderie enabled them to participate in a Marvel/DC Power Hour event, no matter how you prioritized stat/training distributions, but it's strikingly odd that Robert, and thus myself, ever felt pushed to the brink in the penultimate playing fields. As previously alluded, there's a stunning lack of friction and tension when you're still without the Suit, but it quickly brushes them all out within 5 whole minutes after the invading forces close in to the Torrance SDN branch. I understand that it's kind of hard to do so given how the final hour is supposed to play out, but between what was specified before and the events that make up the bulk of the narratives are like, I can't help but feel there's a bridge between these two that AdHoc simply didn't take.

Still, I should stress that this doesn't necessarily ruin the experience for me. The finale overall was nonetheless fulfilling to witness and closed most of its threads (and left a few, smart ones open) in a satisfying manner, either emotionally or thematically. As well, it's not as if the game completely drops what made the entire package so captivating and reminiscent of what I greatly enjoyed of The Wolf Among Us (my favorite TTG game to this day), and once again smartly reinforces those themes and impact when it needs them most. Those setbacks didn't really deter me from being a little teary-eyed, that these gang of misfits managed to do right by everyone, let alone me, and the rest of the writing praises I mentioned before were still there regardless. Compared to finales within and outside TTG's repertoire that I can immediately recall, this is more of a case of missed opportunities than a long, sour, brown note.

If you're relapsing for this style of narrative game again, or haven't really tried one out before, I definitely recommend giving it a shot. If you never liked TTG's formula to begin with, or just don't really buy into it anymore, I seldom believe this will assuage your anxiety and doubt, but I do still think there's some interesting nuggets within the writing to make it just enough to give it the college try. Nick and Aaron were on record for thinking about and wanting to do a sequel season, and while I appreciate the openness to try this as well as branch out into other ideas - one of the them being a collaboration with Critical Role - I'm hoping they don't become overambitious in chasing these ideas. We wouldn't want a repeat of history now, do we?

A Promising Refresh?

Setting a superpower narrative within the backdrop of a contemporary office space, be it from a retiree or the everyman, isn’t that unique - even before the revitalization of the superhero boom, Marvel toyed around with the idea through Kurt Busiek and Alex Ross’ Marvels miniseries, plus Dwanye McDuffie and Ernie Colón’s creation Damage Control - but its reuse stems from its reliability. It becomes easier to set the world or tell a specific theme of (super)heroies if you start within a smaller sect, then work upwards for the more climactic battles or character resolutions, and for the Dispatch’s first batch, that means settling in on familiar stylisms after a a second wind, while trying to sew in a fair bit of new tricks via a different source of comedic timing/ideas.

Robert Robertson, A.K.A. Mecha Man, having to transfer between rigorously yet haphazardly upholding his forefather’s legacy as the titular hero coming to end, to now leading a bunch of apathetic to disinterested reformers, is a good leyline between these sorta ideas; it’s already interesting enough that Rob himself is more of a “hero” through inheritance and “piloting a robot that helps out with crime fighting” shenanigans, but tying him down to office bureaucracy doubles up on the fact that he’s more grounded than the likes of those that have “meaningful” abilities. You can sorta see this being bounced around by the emphasis on Track Star (retired superhero who’s super speed caused him to physically age rapidly), Blonde Blazer (a bit of a superstar that, not only very obviously set up as a romantic affair, could also be seen as Rob’s desire for that fame and glory), and Invisigal (the literal polar opposite of his character, and thus a bridge that could build or crumble one part of his connection to the “streets/grounded” levels of heroism). Helps that Aaron Paul seems really into the idea too, if his interviews such as Isaiah Colbert at Gizmodo and Andrew Brown at GamesRadar for examples are anything to go by, and he does a stellar job at conveying that “tired yet still trying” angle.

Although working off the bones of Telltale Games’s formula - right down to having some alums such as directors Nick Herman and Dennis Lenart, as well as writer Pierre Shorette - there’s been a shift within the usual Point & Click mold they’re known for; though you still have to select certain dialog choices¹ and do QTE prompts (or let them all play out via a toggle option in the menus), the bulk of the loop is now centered around the titular dispatch mechanic that’s vaguely reminiscent of Weappy Studios’ This Is The Police duology, or perhaps a severely simplified version of Introversion Software’s Uplink, interspliced with a minigame of sorts that pops up occasionally for hack-centric tidbits. Checking each reformer details their idiosyncratic abilities necessary for proper rollouts, and their personalities chitters sparsely through the intercoms, staving off the feeling of seeing these as just numbers. Compounded by branching choices cropping up - a few of which could also ask for a specific character to do their unique option if they were sent - and being allowed build opportunities to hone dedicated workerbees to suit one or a few jobs in order to keep the momentum going. Nothing becomes too mundane to feel empty, nor too overworked or garrulous to feel obnoxious; so far, the game and story enforce each other’s strengths. So far.

While I’m overall positive on the results thus far, this didn’t necessarily quell my anxiety regarding the trajectory of the game’s overall run. How strong will the central loop hold for both replayability and decision making purposes, if it will ever evolve/differentiate its mission objectives? Will the writing’s strengths continue to hold or will it crumble as it aims for heights/promises it will never reach? Flaws such as the underwhelming animation in both action choreography and ‘mundane’ power spectacle, a few poor voice delivery/direction (you can sure tell they nabbed famous names just for their popularity and not because of their actual performances), and weird visual quirks are already cropping up, how long until they supersede what’s generally a great presentation? I dislike playing the cynic, but I’m rarely the fool - TellTale Games after their “golden era” tended to start promising but slowly disappoint, and AdHoc prouldy showing off some of their employees were on "the best TellTale titles" doesn't fully quell those anxieties. Here's to hoping the landing sticks!

Finding Nuggets Within Subpar Desserts

For full context, I recommend reading my reviews of the base game and its DLCs:

• Main game
• Zombie Island Of Dr. Ned
• Mad Moxxi’s Underdome Riot
• Secret Armory Of General Knoxx
• Claptrap’s New Robot Revolution

The FPS half was fitting for Gearbox, thanks to prior experience with Half-Life’s expansions and ports, Halo’s PC port, as well as having made the short-lived Brothers In Arms titles, so keeping it the primary focus for the genre hybrid is a sensible notion — when you actively play the entire package, however, it unveils how sporadic and borderline unfinished these shooting mechanics become. Although there’s some influence from how proficient you are with a type of gun, it doesn’t change that there’s “baked in” inaccuracy - physical or arbitrary - that detracts from the ‘feel’ of fires. The diceroll as to whether your sight lineup up to an enemy’s head connects as a headshot at the beginning is stringently the same as when you’re heading up to Pandora’s Vault, and it’s just as dubious upon flanking onto unsuspecting Bandits and Wildlifes that are only briskly walking in place. Not helping is the lack of feedback regarding the actual act of firing a gun; speccing into the Revolver subtype of Pistols meant that, no matter if I equipped the Masher variant or the Stock model, both share an eerily similar to exact same SFX that maims procedural generation systems Gearbox have tried to tout as one of the most tantalizing aspects of the game.

On that note, even if you haven’t played it, it’s easy to see where the inspirations lie: Randy Pitchford has verbally noted Diablo, alongside some NetHack and Ultima to boot, for crafting the idea of where to take Borderlands’ central loop. I won’t purport to have advanced knowledge of these games¹, but my understanding likely matches Pitchford’s at the time: shallow and meek. Each new area encounter plays out nearly the same: enter a large, circular field or narrow, linear corridor, enemy hostility will activate and begin to rush straight towards you, pop several leads onto their body til they’re gone, loot the remains or open the chests, rinse and repeat. It’s unfair to overtly simplify the central loop if there wasn’t a core appeal to it, but I simply couldn’t “get” it personally. Every time I opened a prestige box or found a loose weapon from the corpses, the craftsmanship of the weapons I’m speccing unto turned up as sidegrades containing one or two vestigial new components, or were outright worse than what I had received hours prior. It also doesn’t help that said encounter design rarely, if ever, changes in function — the opening hours of Arid Badlands are what you will do unwaveringly up to and including the Eiridian Promontory, and perhaps even further on if you decide to venture onto the DLCs, Mad Moxxi’s especially for literally centralizing these as wave-based arena gauntlets.

It’s hard to feel the joy of looting and shooting when the loot provides little pleasure from doing and the shooting is so haphazardly handled. It also stings harder when you come to realize there’s very rare shot-type distinctions available for every gun available. Sure, Maliwan provides different Elements, and there’s Grenade Mods to help swap around depending on circumstances, but the actual shot spread for each gun is set in stone². Moments where you get the TK’s Wave and its bouncy shotgun pellets and the Eridian cannons’ slow yet powerful projectile are few and far between.

Perhaps the most damning aspect - and the one that really clued in that something went wrong during development - is the actual state of the world and presentation. The soft, cel-shaded look the series has become known for was an “11th hour change”, and you can feel it due to the dull usage of brown/beige color toning in the desert area that rings less like an intentional choice of its Mad Max hallmarks, and more that there wasn’t enough time to accommodate this new shift in direction after its initial gameplay showings of a visage inspired by Rage or Gears Of War³. Add to that with the abundance of sidequests opening with "I need something killed/collected", and homogeny for all the different areas quickly sets in. The few times the game has captivating flair, it half feels like an accident, and half like it was a strong point that the original artstyle had its moments to begin with.

As for Pandora itself, it feels bare… but not in the way I feel was intended by Gearbox themselves, or the remnants of fans who praise this starting point. It tries to establish a loner, solemn walk, and excusing the cheap shot that is mentioning the 4-player multiplayer option, it doesn’t fully come together since you 1: convene to then cooperate with numerous NPCs so often that it deflates that tension and 2: there’s simply not enough backing substance to back that feeling. Walking through the fields of, say, New Vegas’ Mojave Desert or S.T.A.L.K.E.R.’s ZONE relays that solitude through varying means aside from enemy/location placements that Borderlands 1 never fully emphasizes. It likely doesn’t help the sandbox element aren’t particularly interesting to begin with: each major area has, at most, three “important” locations you always vacate towards, as well as a few dungeons off to each sides of their paths, and with the aforementioned toning issue, it only heightens that feeling of uncertainty and aimlessness that likely plagued development. Once again, the DLCs seem to be a response of some kind, since all four, to varying degrees, attempt something to spice up the environment design: CNRR contains a cave utilizing a lamp-path system to its different routes within; ZIoDN’s plays up the Halloween theming ala varying and well-known genre trappings; General Knoxx actually contains different vehicle types instead of just swapping out which turret you want on, all of which affect road combat and traversal.

The one glimmer of hope within Borderlands’ systems is, surprisingly enough, the RPG half. For as much as these underbaked mechanics hold back the holistic quality, a few manage to keep the numbers game afloat, and as a result, it becomes particularly engrossing figuring out which skills to pick for your character’s build, and how they interact with the enemy’s arsenal. As someone that’s played as all four Classes throughout each playthrough, it was surprising to see them so radically different from one another in more than just a moniker. Mordecai, the character I played as this time, is a snowball effect of a decently strong range attacker to downright villainous assassin thanks to higher rate of fires and the ability to bypass enemy shields, thereby making headshot crits more potent than ever and making Crimson Lances, an enemy faction that’re all armored up, easier to handle which, combined with the Corrosion element and a few different grenade mods, was likely the intention. If there was any throughline between Brothers In Arms’ lite-strategy elements, it’d likely pertain to how these classes interact with each other, emerging for different gameplay plans and flanking opportunities. Although a shame the base game’s enemy roster largely fails to play to this system’s strengths, even to the point the DLCs are just barely enough to break away from its monotony, it’s at least carried from the conversations that can arise for how each player has handled the journey in differing manners, which circles back to the intended effect of the game’s idea. With varying fan tools and guides to help inform everyone as to what should be done - one of these being the more recent LootLemon database - it’s no wonder the game managed to become a success, and where Gearbox finally had an idea as to where the take the series in the future.