Bioshock Infinite

Developed by: Irrational Games/ 2K Marin

Published by: 2K Games

Available on: Xbox360, Playstation 3, PC (Xbox360 reviewed)

“Bring us the girl, and wipe away the debt.” With that promise – or maybe a threat – former Pinkerton agent Booker DeWitt is dispatched to the floating city of Columbia, a serene, all-American utopia ruled over by the Prophet, one Zachary Comstock. However, it quickly becomes apparent that retrieving the mysterious Elizabeth will be more complicated than Booker anticipates; Columbia is a powder-keg of racial and ideological tensions, and there is the small matter of the Songbird, Elizabeth’s mechanical guardian with a thirty foot wingspan…

‘Infinite’ is the third game in the ‘Bioshock’ franchise, and as the above summary may suggest, it is a little different from the average ‘Halo’ game. The first game received innumerable plaudits for its plot, ethos and atmosphere; while the gameplay was perfectly good, it is a game better remembered for the city of Rapture that served as the setting, and an astonishing, deconstructive twist in the last hour or so of the game. Not many first person shooters set themselves up as examinations of Objectivist philosophy, and fewer still would have the skill and intellect to achieve it (the sequel approached Rapture from a Collectivist point of view; broadly speaking, the exact opposite).

Much the same is probably true of ‘Infinite’, although it is not really a sequel, more a successor. While the gameplay is really rather good, the main draw here is the plot and the world. In this instance, the driving force behind the plot is religion, for the most part, although it can perhaps be more accurately described as an ode to the notion that extremism is bad (actually, all three games essentially boil down to this). That said, as the game progresses it begins to take in some extremely bizarre and thought-provoking concepts; it is a narrative that could be pictured alongside a jar of Marmite in a dictionary in terms of audience response – I loved it, for the record – but what is absolutely unquestionable is what it will keep you talking about it for a long time afterwards.

In a marked difference from previous instalments in the franchise, the stories success is in large part due to the protagonists. In previous games, the player characters have been voiceless, somewhat akin to someone like Gordon Freeman of ‘Half-Life’ fame. Booker DeWitt though is a fully articulate, thinking individual with a dark past and, just maybe, a good heart underneath it all. Although that last bit is very much open to interpretation. However, even more important, arguably the actual central character, is the girl in question; Elizabeth, heir to the throne of Columbia and possessed of the ability to rip holes in reality. For the vast majority of the game, this functions as a handy way of keeping your health and ammunition topped up during shoot-outs, although many set pieces also feature tears which allow something more exotic, such as summoning friendly gun turrets. She’s a fascinating, loveable character, and the relationship between the two of them is the heart and soul of the game, in stark contrast to previous games which were really more about the setting than the actual characters.

In terms of gameplay, ‘Infinite’ feels much more robust than the previous instalments, although the core features are broadly the same. Once again, you have a choice between shooting people with a variety of guns – although you can now only carry a chosen two at a time, rather than shove rocket launchers, crossbows and machine guns in your pockets – or you can abuse them with the Vigors, which replace Plasmids. Essentially, these are magic powers. They might allow you to push people around, possess them, set fire to them, or fire murderous crows out of your fingertips to tear them to shreds. Some are more useful than others, all are fun to use, although they don’t seem to be integrated into the game world quite as well as Plasmids were. There was a clear explanation for the existence of Plasmids, which was admittedly nonsense, but while one can be inferred for Vigors, nothing is actually stated, leaving them feeling a little like they’re around because it’s a Bioshock game than because there’s a strict need for them. That little nitpick aside though, the combat is excellent. This is a good thing, as there are roughly four people in the entire game who don’t try and kill you on sight. If you don’t like shooting, even the quality writing may not be enough to sway you on this particular game.

It isn’t all good; there’s a lengthy section mid-game which has you going back and forth over Columbia looking for first a person, then said person’s belongings. It’s one of the worst examples of fetch-and-carry gameplay I’ve seen in a while, and while it is dressed up in an important part of the plot and backstory, it’s still a little lazy. The final half hour or so, while thought provoking and (in my humble opinion) rather brilliant, it can be seen as perhaps a bit too much of a shock; much of it is built up, but not all of it, especially since much of the background is learned through audio recordings that you can find lying around the levels. Atmosphere is split more by location than in previous games; Rapture was a haunted house turned up to eleven; while Columbia is revealed to be a deeply scary place, it’s much more on the nose. And…that’s basically it. Really, the only other issue is the plot, and that’s an obviously subjective thing. I loved it, but I know others who thought it pretentious nonsense.

So. Tight gameplay, thrilling action, an enthralling, intelligent story, and an endearing partnership at the heart of it all. If you’re looking for evidence of games as art, this is an excellent place to start. Highly recommended.

The Name of the Doctor

Starring: Richard E Grant, Neve Mcintosh, Catrin Stewart, Alex Kingston

Written by: Steven Moffat

Directed by: Saul Metzstein

The Doctor’s friends are being kidnapped, and all signs point towards the fields of Trenzalore as their location…but more than friends can be found there. The Doctor’s greatest secret has been uncovered, and the question in plain sight will be asked. Doctor Who?

WARNING: SPOILERS

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Doctor Who?

There seems to be a trend within some areas of the fandom to say that this is the defining element of the show; who is the Doctor? I’m not certain it’s a point of view I agree with, at least in the sense it has often been presented. Who cares what his name is? He’s the madman with a box, the funny alien chap who flits around time and space getting into trouble and sorting it out. Yes, not knowing his actual proper name does wonders for his mystique, but it’s entirely irrelevant to his character. It isn’t a question that needs answering.

Fortunately, Steven Moffat seems to realise that, because actually, the Doctor’s name turns out not to matter squat in this episode, and may never be important at all. What’s important is that he is the Doctor.

It’s been a patchy series at best, even if you factor in the first half pre-Christmas. While I maintain my position that since Moffat took the helm, there has been a much more consistent level of quality on the show than there was under Davies’ direction, it must be admitted that equally, there haven’t been quite as many classic episodes. This series has barely managed one classic, truth be told. Much as I loved ‘Dinosaurs on a Spaceship’, it was an almost entirely throwaway romp, and even ‘The Angels Take Manhatten’ didn’t live up to Moffat’s usual standards; post-Christmas, the best episode, ‘Hide’ was still an over-packed piece, and isn’t going to be mentioned in the same breath as say, ‘Midnight’ (series 4).

We really needed a good showing from Moffat to restore faith in the show. Did he deliver? Well…while I’ve ummed and aahed about whether it was a good episode, it was certainly a thrilling one. And I am far, far more excited about the fiftieth anniversary special than I was a week ago.

It’s hard to judge ‘The Name of the Doctor’ in truth, because it’s so clearly part one of a longer story, and so much of it is set up for the second part. Come November, I might look back and be thinking that actually, it was rubbish. I hope I won’t be, and I don’t think I will be, but it’s always possible. But while there were without question flaws in the episode, I think most of them will be redeemed in the next one. Here’s hoping, anyway.

It was certainly an episode that grabbed you from the very start, with a brief glimpse of Gallifrey – stunning as ever, at least on the external shot – and then Clara telling William Hartnell he was about to make a terrible mistake. And then you saw her with every Doctor. The sound you heard was the sound of a million fans’ heads exploding in confusion. Quite apart from the shock and thrill of this sequence, it was a delight, and a relief, to finally get some closure on Clara. She’s been a strange companion; on the one hand, the driving force of her entire time on the show has been that she’s the Impossible Girl, but on the other there’s been precious little time devoted to what her mystery actually is. Equally, while Coleman is always a pleasure to watch, there hasn’t actually been that much for her to work with. Aside from the mystery surrounding her, there isn’t actually that much to Clara; she’s perky, witty, likes travelling and making soufflés. In the end, that turns out to be rather the point. The mystery of Clara is timey-wimey, brought about by her stepping up and doing something extraordinary to help the Doctor. That’s it; in every other respect, she’s a perfectly normal, dare I say average young woman. And that’s fine, in some ways it’s a good thing, given the fears many had that she was going to be another River, but while normal is good, characterless is not. Hopefully the next series will give her some depth to go with Coleman’s acting.

Elsewhere, the Paternoster Row Gang are good value as always, which is a good thing, given that we spend a fair chunk of the episode with them. The time-travel in dreams is a neat if not terribly convincing idea – and I say not convincing not because it’s unrealistic, because it’s Doctor Who for God’s sake, but because it seems like the kind of thing that might have been really useful in other or later episodes, and you just know it’s never going to crop up again. Hey ho. Neve Mcintosh gets one of the episode’s best moments as she grieves then rejoices over Jenny’s death – on which note, Catrin Stewart sells Jenny’s murder perfectly, and it is without doubt the creepiest, most disturbing moment of the episode. Once the cast are back together though, they do rather fade into the background; fair enough, given that they are side characters and the episode is even more about the Doctor than normal, but disappointing nonetheless, particularly because they just stand around looking blank for the most part.

That is, in fact, my biggest criticism of the episode. It starts with a flashback montage of Clara with previous Doctors, which is repeated at least three times. Vastra gets some information from a random madman, and then the side characters/companions sit around talking about it. There’s a dramatic sequence as the Doctor and Clara head to Trenzalore, then a longer sequence while all the characters in the episode stand around talking. Then more talking, before Clara does her thing, then more talking before the Doctor heads off to save her. For all the drama and suspense, not an awful lot actually happens. As I say above, this is clearly because it’s a story in two parts, of which we’ve only seen one part. That said, it’s the last episode we’re going to see for six months, and while there’s plenty for people to talk about, it isn’t a particularly spectacular finale.

But…those last few minutes. It’s where it all comes together, where you remember that while it might not be obvious every minute of the show, Moffat is a bloody good writer. For nearly two years now, fans have been going back and forth over the Doctor’s name and whether it’s right or sensible to reveal it, and then we find out that he’s been trolling us all along. It’s not about his name, it’s about his character; he calls himself the Doctor for a reason, after all. The idea that there’s a regeneration of him running around that ‘broke the promise’ is just all kinds of interesting and wonderful, and I for one can’t wait to find out the truth. Is he the Valeyard? Or maybe the one that ended the Time War? Those seem to be the most likely conclusions at present, but both have arguments against them; he seems to be an earlier regeneration to Matt Smith, which rules out the Valeyard (assuming they stick to the canon about him, at any rate), but all three post-Time War Doctors have been willing to admit their role in the end of the Time War, which doesn’t fit with breaking the promise. Knowing Moffat, it won’t be either of those conclusions.

It’s been a patchy series, yes. And in all honesty, a somewhat patchy finale, which probably wasn’t anywhere near as good if you’re not totally invested in the show. But Moffat has restored my faith with it, and I can’t wait for November.

Bedlam

Written by Christopher Brookmyre

Released: 7^th February 2013. Published by: Orbit.

384 pages, £17.99

Heaven is a prison. Hell is a playground. Would it be your ultimate fantasy to enter the world of a video game? A realm where you don't have to go to work or worry about your health; where you can look like a hero or a goddess; where you can fly space-ships, slay dragons, yet all of it feels completely real. A realm where there are no consequences and no responsibilities. Or would it be your worst nightmare? Stuck in an endless state of war and chaos where the pain and fear feels real and from which not even death can offer an escape. Prison or playground. Heaven or hell. This is where you find out. This is white-knuckle action, sprawling adventure, merciless satire and outrageous humour like you've never experienced. This is Bedlam.

Brookmyre has a long, fairly distinguished career as a novelist behind him, and indeed, has been held up as the defining writer of Tartan Noir, but ‘Bedlam’ represents his first real foray into the realms of speculative fiction. Most of his books – and, it must be said, his best ones – have been biting satires; his debut, ‘Quite Ugly One Morning’, dealt with corruption in the NHS, while his later ‘Boiling a Frog’ tore apart both the Scottish Parliament and the Catholic Church – although it’s worth noting that he’s equally happy satirising psychics and mediums as he is the Establishment. For all of that though, it has been very clear that he is something of a geek. For every satire he writes, he tends to follow up with a parody of something. ‘One Fine Day in the Middle of the Night’, for example, combines a school reunion with Die Hard on an oil rig/holiday resort.

Most pertinently though, are his more recent works. ‘Attack of the Unsinkable Rubber Ducks’ made a character’s devotion to Joss Whedon’s ‘Firefly’ almost a plot point, while ‘Pandaemonium’ re-trod some of the religious ground from ‘Boiling a Frog’, and teamed it up with a bunch of school kids suddenly having to live through a real-world ‘Doom’, chainsaws, shotguns and all. In ‘Bedlam’, this is taken to a whole new level (pun sort of intended).

As the summary suggests, ‘Bedlam’ is a book about videogames. Specifically, what would happen if you woke up one day to find that you were a character in one? That might depend on a couple of things. If you were a gamer yourself, you might quickly realise what was going on, particularly if, like our hero Ross, you were familiar with the game in which you woke up. If not, then…well. It’s probably not going to go well for you. How would you cope if you went from being an accountant in Leicester to a cyborg alien on the wrong side of a galactic war? Of course, you might not wake up in a super violent first person shooter. You might wake up in, say, ‘Grand Theft Auto’. Or ‘Dark Souls’. And leaving aside all the other sorts of games which revolve around committing extreme violence against others, one suspects that too long spent jumping around in the world of a ‘Crash Bandicoot’ or a ‘Rayman’ would have dramatic effects on your sanity, to say nothing of having nothing to do but drive around a racing track all day, every day for the rest of your life.

It is this part of the book that is the most successful. Brookymre clearly knows his stuff, and as a writer extremely skilled with dark humour, not to mention the best place to deploy a swear word in any given sentence, the laughs come thick and fast. It helps that Ross is an engaging, relatable character, driven more by the desire to get his life back on track than he is to solving the mystery of just what is going on. It’s great fun, intriguing and well written; however, it must be admitted that a lot of the enjoyment to be had may be dependent on how many references you get, although the only other person I know who has read it is not a gamer, and thoroughly enjoyed it nonetheless.

For the most part, the mystery – or at least the central one – is well developed, as you’d expect from a writer with sixteen other books under his belt. It also draws on some interesting philosophical aspects, mostly relating to Nick Bostrum’s Simulation Argument: “at least one of the following propositions is true: (1) the human species is very likely to go extinct before reaching the posthuman stage; (2) any posthuman civilization is extremely unlikely to run significant number of simulations or (variations) of their evolutionary history; (3) we are almost certainly living in a computer simulation. It follows that the naïve transhumanist dogma that there is a significant chance that we will one day become posthumans who run ancestor-simulations is false, unless we are currently living in a simulation.”

This is mostly relevant to the B plot, and while interesting, it isn’t given enough time to satisfactorily develop. Hints are given, but they focus on characters we barely know, or who are completely divorced from the rest of the book. In all fairness, developing this side of things more or earlier would have rather spoiled other aspects of the book, but it is still hard not to feel that the ending was a bit out of left field.

Still, this should not put you off from reading the book. Brookmyre is a fine writer, and if nothing else it will tickle your funny bone. And if you haven’t read his other books, check them out as well. 

Doctor Who: Nightmare in Silver

Starring: Warwick Davis, Jason Watkins, Tamzin Outhwaite

 Written by: Neil Gaiman

Directed by: Stephen Woolfenden

Arriving at the greatest theme park in the galaxy, complete with golden ticket, the Doctor and his companions are disappointed to find the place closed and run down, inhabited only by a platoon of enthusiastic but inexperienced soldiers and two showmen with an intriguing line in chess opponents. Soon, not only is the future of the galaxy at stake, but the Doctor’s mind as well…

I’ll own up right now. I love Neil Gaiman. He is one of the finest fantasists of the last fifty years, and his previous episode for the show, ‘The Doctor’s Wife’ is by far and away my favourite episode certainly of the Moffat/Smith era, and I could probably be pressed into agreeing that it’s the best episode since the revival. It would be far to say that my expectations for ‘Nightmare in Silver’ were high.

Too high? Perhaps.

I’m well aware that I tend to give more credit – or blame, as it may be – to the writer of each episode or film that I review here, probably because I’m a wannabe writer myself. Gaiman has tweeted about a few things that changed between filming and broadcast, due to editing and the like, so maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I owe Neil Cross a grovelling apology for heaping the criticism of ‘Rings of Akhaten’ at his feet over anyone else. Whatever the case, and it may just be that I’m expecting too much because of my Gaiman fanboy status, this episode severely disappointed me.

It gets off to a decent start, and, to be fair, does have a lot of great moments. The dilapidated theme park looks brilliant – tacky, sure, but it’s Who, after all, and it’s a theme park, what do you expect – and Jason Watkins is a charismatic guest star. The two kids are rather irritating, but you can’t have everything. Warwick Davis, when he appears, gives a brilliant showcase of dry yet humorous acting, and steals the show from everyone else, no mean feat when the script calls for Matt Smith to ham it up even more than he normally does.

More notably, there are some very successful updates to the Cybermen. Building on the sequence in ‘The Pandorica Opens’ a few years ago, they have been given a huge shot in the arm, and while they might not be as terrifying as, say, the Silence, they are clearly a force to be reckoned with now. The idea that humanity had to destroy an entire galaxy to stop them coming back is horrifying, and their numerous tweaks and upgrades render them incredibly dangerous. It’s basically their ‘Cold War’, or ‘Dalek’ from Ecclestone’s run.

However, it never really feels wholly satisfying.

In part, I think it’s because there’s a lot going on. You’ve got the battle for the Doctor’s mind, the reawakening Cybermen, the intrigue of Porridge, which does make sense in context, Clara’s concern for the children she’s supposed to be looking after…it isn’t quite as crowded as Neil Cross’ episodes have been, but it is another compelling argument in favour of two-part stories. Forty five minutes are all very well for a romp through time and space, but there have been too many episodes this series which have fallen flat where another half hour or so would have produced classics.

That aside though, there are definite problems with the script. As stated, the two kids, Angie and Artie, are infuriating. Angie is a generic stroppy teenager, while Artie is a suspiciously polite and formal teenager; given the sorts of shenanigans the Doctor regularly finds himself in the middle of, I was surprised to find that he wasn’t inspecting the poor boy for some sort of alien possession. Mr Clever, or the Cyber-Doctor if you prefer, is a cool idea, and I’m always up for a bit of prime Smith ham, but I couldn’t help but feel that a bit more could have been done with it, or at least something a little different. Writing or acting choice? Who knows, but at the end of the day it’s largely irrelevant. More importantly, there’s just nothing special about the story, the upgrades to the Cybermen aside. It’s a generic siege episode, and while you could argue the same about, say, ‘Cold War’, that episode had a sheen of class and all-round competence that this episode sadly lacks.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a bad episode. There’s just nothing to make you remember it particularly, and while you can say the same about most of the episodes – most of the episodes of any show, for that matter – not every episode is written by one of the greatest living fantasy writers. I think we were entitled to expect a little more.

In conclusion, I’d like to share a story.

I have a friend who had rather gone off the show after ‘The End of Time’. True, much of this was because she wasn’t getting her weekly dose of David Tennant, but she also had issues with Moffat’s scripts, Smith’s performances, etc etc. However, she kept watching on and off, hoping she’d start to enjoy it again.

As the credits rolled on ‘The Doctor’s Wife’, my phone went off. She had sent me a text, basically saying “I love it. I get it now. I get why you still watch it.”

With ‘The Doctor’s Wife’, Gaiman reignited a fan’s interest in the show, reminded her what was special about it, why she’d loved it in the first place. With ‘Nightmare in Silver’, he’s delivered an episode with some neat ideas, that entertains, but is thoroughly average in almost every respect.