Half-Life 2
This is the sixth time I have started writing this review. Each new draft began in a different way, a different first impression on one of the most eagerly anticipated games ever. I just couldn't decide which angle deserved the importance of being the First Paragraph. So, on this (hopefully final) attempt, I've opted for the good old personal anecdote approach. Now I'm going to let you into a little secret: I didn't much care for the original Half-Life. Sure, it was a solidly-put-together FPS which revolutionised the genre by claiming, loudly, that you can have both a storyline and a gun floating in the corner of the screen. One of the most important games in history, it nevertheless failed to grab me in quite the way it seemed to seduce everyone else.
So it came as quite a surprise to find that its sequel is the best game ever produced.
There, I said it. If you're in a rush, feel free to take that as the official Eternal Legend seal of approval and rush out to buy your copy now. If - as I was - you aren't convinced, then please read on. Every good game out there has its own stock of special moments. You know the ones. You talk about them with friends who have played the game, or describe them in great detail to those who haven't. The sound-responsive tentacle beast in the original Half-Life, for example. HL2 packs so many of these into every level that these discussions will have to be of the form, "Do you remember that time when you played Half-Life 2?" From the minute the G-Man (top right, coated in pixel shaders) throws you into the world, every moment is something special.
Working as an operative for his G-ness, physicist and one-man-killing-machine Gordon Freeman is sent to City 17, a desolate Orwellian nightmare of government oppression. The blue-collared citizens are devoid of hope. "Don't drink the water," one whispers to you as you pass. "They put something in it to make you forget." Masked Combine forces watch your every movement, breaking out the electrified nightsticks if you so much as blink out of regulation. In the centre of the city, towering biblically above it all, is the Citadel, base of operations for the ruling class. Between you and it are miles of derelict buildings and an entire army. The atmosphere of oppression and despair is so strong you can taste it.
Fortunately, you are not alone. Resistance groups lie scattered throughout the city, and news of your arrival is spreading like wildfire. With their help, and that of some friends from Black Mesa, you may just survive. Then there's Alyx, genius daughter of old work-buddy Dr. Vance, who offers her own brand of more direct Combine-killing assistance. Her scenes in particular help to create a real, tangible world rather than just a playground for you and your guns. It would be inappropriate to call them "cutscenes," as one of HL2's many genius aspects is that you are always in Gordon Freeman's shoes. Not once does the camera leave his viewpoint for a flyby or a quick cinematic scene. Not once are you artificially paralysed, unable to move during exposition scenes. As well as allowing you to run around and trash things while people are discussing serious matters, this creates a bond between you and the world that is never broken. The illusion remains throughout, with only the little white titles on new chapters reminding you that this is just a game.
The scenes with the NPCs are startling in their realism, despite the unreality of the situation. People don't just stand around, cycling through jilted idle sequences while they wait their turn to speak. Their movement is fluid, and natural. When Alyx kisses her father on the cheek, it is just something she does rather than alerting the player that she has performed Kissing Animation #1. This extends to the inanimate too, as everything which isn't bolted down is present in the physics engine and rendered with breathtaking accuracy. Stacks of boxes collapse as Newton intended. Cylindrical grenades bounce along the floor, coming to a halt with a little spiral roll that responds to the environment. See this locked door? I did that by slotting a metal bar across its bolts.
Indeed, physics plays an integral part to HL2, as if Freeman himself was involved in the design. Whether it's in the form of puzzles or entertainment, the world around you responds to your actions. Exploding barrels, a staple of the FPS, are much more useful when you can roll them into position as makeshift bombs. The gravity gun, sure to feature in copycat games for years to come, allows you to drag things around or propel them great distances. The uses are as many as you can come up with yourself. A metal table makes a handy riot shield, allowing you to close in on your enemy and then throw it into them at 60mph. The first time you pull a circular sawblade from the wall take aim at approaching zombies, your world will forever change. And when your improvised weapon inevitably succumbs to defeat and smashes into pieces, just drag the jagged metal bits back and use them instead.
Combat, then. It wouldn't be a FPS without it, and HL2 has it in spades. It's not just hallways filled with headcrabs, either. One of the new enemies, the Manhack, never fails to scare me stiff. Floating drones bedecked with spinning blades, they are something straight out of a horror flick (literally: Phantasm) as they come screeching down hallways, raising sparks as they grind along the wall towards your face like angry bees. Mechanical bees. And the Combine...
Fighting your way through the Combine forces is an experience difficult to describe, and static screenshots do it no justice at all. Machine gun fire ricochets all around you, punctuated with flashes of tracer fire. A friendly NPC calls over, beckoning you into a new hiding place as she lays down covering fire. As the two of you take temporary shelter behind a fence, the tell-tale red LED of a primed grenade arcs overhead, striking the floor at your feet with the precision of a Worms expert. "Take cover," your new ally yells, but it is too late. The bomb detonates, blowing the fence into the distance and offering the aural rest of temporary deafness. Combine raids on resistance shelters are particularly harrowing, as the NPCs urge you onwards, fighting to their last breath. Some of these events are scripted, but many are the result of you and the AI trying to outmaneuver each other.
At times, their intelligence is frightening. The following is a true story of one of my encounters. I could hear Combine radio chatter coming from inside the next room, but it sounded idle. They were unaware of my presence. I creep up to the open door, back against the wall, gun trained on the exit in case someone came out to investigate. Quick moment to collect myself and prime a grenade. I spin past the doorway, dropping down and rolling an explosive in. Without stopping, I run on and leap round the corner into the next corridor. Back against the wall, shotgun ready, just like they teach us in the movies. It seems I managed to attract their attention. "Grenade!" one yells just before it blows. There's a scream. At least one just got early retirement. A moment later, a Combine soldier hurtles round the corner and right into the pointy end of my gun. Another one down, lying in a heap against the (now stained) wall. A double-barrel blast will do that to you. I round the corner, expecting to see the other soldiers out to investigate. BLAM. I was right. Silence then falls. Congratulating myself on a job well done, I amble into the room to see what they were guarding. Inside, against the doorway, is the final soldier. Back pressed against the wall, gun trained on the opening, just like they teach us in the movies. We look at each other in a moment of shock that seems to last two or three minutes. Him, searching his AI for what to do next and applying the built-in trigger delay that the difficulty level mandates. Me, frantically updating my anti-AI with this new copycat turn of events. I reached the trigger first, but once again I found myself having to re-evaluate what I knew about the game.
Half-Life 2 is a thrill from start to finish, which is saying something considering its length. There is so much more I could tell you. Like what happened when a minigun-toting assault helicopter found me hiding in a warehouse (left). Or half a second after this smokestack hit the water. I could tell you of the time these people saved my life during a bitter battle with a terrifying new opponent. When I am old and grey, I will be telling youngsters about what happened to me on this innocent rail bridge as though I were actually there in person, because I very nearly was. I could fill pages with these anecdotes and many more, but I won't. Though many of these events were unique to me, and won't play out in quite the same way for anyone else, revealing too much may lessen the experience for yourself. This is a game you must play if you have even the slightest interest in shooting things. It is the pinnacle of the FPS/action adventure mountain. It could even teach RPGs a few things.
If you have a system which reaches the minimum specs (these screenshots were flying by at >50fps on a sub-2GHz PC with a 64MB video card) then I implore you to play this game. If not, I implore you to upgrade and then play it. I should warn you, however, that the copy protection system permanently binds your disc to an email address, preventing you from borrowing a friend's copy or selling it on used. You need an internet connection to install the game, and though it's not necessary afterwards, it will complain if you try to play offline. The automatic patches, while great for broadband connections, will annoy dialup users with their sheer size. These issues have caused a great deal of controversy, and I personally hate the notion of being assumed a pirate until validated otherwise, but these are packaging problems and should not carry over to the game. Think of it as a particularly unforgiving cellophane wrapping which, once dealt with, provides access to what I shall officially title the Best Game Ever.
