The Evil Within 2 is making me question why I even play games

I couldn’t tell you what the fuck The Evil Within was about. Sincerely, I have no idea. I’ve tried explaining it to colleagues, but nothing I’ve said about the game’s story is met with any confidence. Yet here I am, succumbing myself to the sequel for whatever reason. It’s because I’m an unapologetic sucker for the survival horror genre. That’s really all it comes down to. And frankly, those games haven’t been masters of storytelling by any means.

Nevertheless, despite walking away from the first Evil Within feeling frustrated and cheated, there were still glimpses of inspiring moments. And really, at the end of the day, it was Shinji Mikami’s name (Resident Evil) that made me pick it up.

After reading some positive shit about its sequel from some journalists I like and trust (and a good black Friday sale), I picked up The Evil Within 2. (Though, this time around Shinji Mikami was only a producer, not a director.)

It still stars the cliche hardboiled detective Sebastian from the first one. The story is a little more focused, this time being a simple rescue mission for Sebastian’s daughter who was presumably dead. But still, Sebastian must enter this matrix-esque machine into another reality or some crap like that, to get her. Apparently her death was faked and she’s being used for some tech study and blah blah blah.

The game has a ton of style — as did the first. But a fault in the first was that its environments changed so often and drastically that it became exhausting rather than cool and always interesting. This one does a better job of balancing that. I’m still flying through varied environments quite often. However, it tends to consistently comeback to the micro sandbox which is the town of Union.

At its core, the mechanics haven’t changed since the first game — with the exception that the environments are tremendously more open.

Sebastian runs around like an old man with a load in his pants. He’s slow, even for his normal movement speed, and always looks like he’s on the verge of keeling over. Overall the movement is just clunky and unresponsive. Especially when in a very stressful situation where I’m desperately trying to switch weapons, but have to wait until one of his animations is over to attempt it again.

The survival element of it is good. I never feel completely capable of mowing down even the easiest foe in the game. Getting seen by an enemy always escalates to a fight or flight feeling. Nothing quite as reminiscent as the early Resident Evil series, however. In The Evil Within, though ammunation is sparse through the world, there’s always a means to make it or earn it elsewhere which lowers the risk of its loss when faced in a fight. But whatever.

You know, I’ll say this: The Evil Within series does make me question why I play games in an interesting way. I think most gamers like to think that the story in a game is just as important as the overall experience. I deeply disagree with that. The story is never the reason why we started playing video games in the first place. Of course a story is important to drive the player to the end goal, but I don’t think it’s the root of the experience.

I stand by that claim with The Evil Within. I’m not playing this game for the story. I think it’s a confusing, over complicated mess, with cliche two dimensional characters. The Evil Within 2 could have starred anyone but Sebastian and I wouldn’t have been phazed. I’m playing it because it’s the closest I can get to style of gameplay and genre that I love to experience. It’s one of the only genres where you’re made to feel a little helpless, and in doing so, forces me to adapt and play in such a way that’s truly rewarding.

So not only am I playing it, but even more importantly, writing about it.

I’m about ten hours into my playthrough, and I’d say I’m having an alright time. It’s hard to say that I feel inclined to finish it beyond the fact that I want my money’s worth, and while I’m playing it, I’m having an alright time. We’ll see how I feel when I finish it.

Wolfenstein 2 and its portrayal of relationships

I can’t stop thinking about Wolfenstein 2: The New Colossus.

There were moments that made me squeal and flail out of both excitement and distress. There were scenes I was genuinely astounded to be experiencing in a big budgeted FPS. Scenes that feature raw and weighted emotion from a main character that would have otherwise been portrayed as the cliche macho masculine non-stop killing machine war hero with nothing to lose. But The New Colossus manages to do something so few, if not any, games have done with its buff, tough-as-nails, main character BJ Blazkowicz, and it’s make him a believable, vulnerable, human being.

The New Colossus sets the player up from the start with a character whose fate seems to be already sealed. BJ wakes up after the events of the first game bound to a wheelchair, only to find out that some of his organs have been taken out to ensure his survival a little longer, and that Anya, his love interest from the first game, is pregnant with twins.

It was my immediate assumption to assume: “Anya’s gonna die, and Blazkowicz is finally going to become that cliche ‘man with nothing to lose’ nazi killing son of a bitch that’d  feed into our nazi killing veins.”

But the game never fulfills the cliche of the cheesy action stereotype. Instead, it does the absolute opposite.

The game transitions into BJ’s childhood, showing his relationship with his Jewish mother, his abusive father, and his first love.

His father is a horrible man, but in many ways, a man of his time. He’s an ignorant racist whose sole purpose is to work, provide for his family, and exert the power of his masculinity. He abuses his wife, and humiliates BJ for taking comfort in his mother’s care.

There’s one particular flashback where a young BJ is afraid of the dark, and his father consoles him by handing him a BB gun, and head together into the basement so BJ can face his fears and realize that it’s only his imagination. I found this scene fascinating because it’s the only time we see his father not being a complete piece of shit. And it’s that contradiction of his father’s character that makes him more believable. Not every good and bad guy is black and white, and it’s this sort of character portrayal in The New Colossus that make its character development so complex.

In so many ways, the game’s most prominent theme is about parenting and relationships. Even the game’s antagonist, General Engel, is a mother. And the display of her relationship with her daughter is made front and center of a particular scene early on that sets the stage for just what kind of person Engel is. It’s brilliant.

I liked the first Wolfenstein, The New Order, quite a bit. But nothing prepared me for how developer MachineGames would completely pivot the franchise. I now think about the game’s characters first before even associating it with killing nazis — which is obviously what we’ve always known the franchise for in the first place.

Whether or not it’s my Game of the Year, I can’t say just yet. You’ll have to tune in tomorrow on my YouTube channel to find out my Top 3 picks for GOTY.

And I haven’t even dived into the gameplay itself and how it varies and changes almost constantly. Maybe for another time.

Kurt Indovina
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