Breakdown

Deftly defying stereo-typing, classification, and analogy, Breakdown is as cleverly crafted and tightly scripted as they come, and every aspect of its elaborate narrative unfolds—in real time—before the player's eyes. It's not a first-person shooter as much as it is one hell of a sci-fi head trip. Literally. And while many of videogaming's most celebrated accomplishments have drawn praise for their cinematic qualities, Breakdown takes it to a whole new level by placing you—as one Derrick Cole, amnesiac and humanity's last hope—in the movie.

Self-styled hardcore gamers, especially those weaned on 3D games, will find Breakdown suffers from a few too many design flaws: too many dead-end corridors, too much backtracking, touchy controls, and a limited variety of enemies, replete with limited A.I. Too much time is spent collecting candy, clips, and colas, which oftentimes tangles the game's otherwise smooth sense of continuity. The difficulty level can reach maddening heights, and gunplay, when called for, may put off FPS purists with its autotargeting (although those few who aren't already sufficiently challenged can turn off this feature).

Visually, too, the game falls a bit short—the too-cool art direction and lovingly crafted character animations lose some of their luster when bounded by simple textures and lighting effects and a limited palette. But every time the player and Cole find themselves hurling explosive punches with reckless abandon, clambering up and out of harm's way, or, for that matter, phasing in and out of existence, it's an inarguably palpable, almost tangible experience. Sound effects, the score, and—most surprisingly—the voice acting are all quite good; had as much time been spent finessing the surround sound, this might well have been a masterpiece.

But as such, it's an exemplary instance of the sum surpassing its parts, making these shortcomings—technical, visual, environmental, or otherwise—almost entirely forgivable. From the very beginning, which seamlessly segues from comprehensive tutorial to chaotic combat, to its melodramatic conclusion, Breakdown never once > > slips out of first-person perspective. It's an incredibly significant accomplishment. Early on, the player is thoroughly trained in the nuances of interacting with the troubled world around him, and scripted events tend to be player triggered, ensuring that any jarring disconnects between the player and Cole are, at worst, minimal.

The story, which mixes and matches the best bits from manga, existentialist science fiction, and anime-style military fetishism, is cleverly wrought and sufficiently thought provoking. It's engaging and labyrinthine enough to make renewed discussion about that great 21st century geek barometer—The Matrix—a less-than-embarrassing prospect. More important, the story is a part of the game; it's not just window dressing. Along the arduous road from foggy amnesiac to full-fledged action hero, the player's sense of identity, place, and—most impressively—time is continually (for lack of a better phrase) broken down through flashbacks, déjà vu, and some far more unsettling methods. But because the game begins exactly when Cole regains consciousness, the player is privy to only what his memory-impaired avatar knows—no more, no less. The player is, in essence, Cole.

In the final acts, plot lines are twisted and mind-bending revelations are unveiled. More significantly, what little traditional game artifice (health bars, action icons, reticules) had appeared onscreen is stripped away, rewarding the seasoned player (and those who muscle through will indeed be seasoned) with a feeling of absolute familiarity and, for the most part, power. To say more would spoil some secrets—but it's not surprising a second pass through reveals nuances that simply would have been impossible to notice the first time around.

Breakdown has—not surprisingly—been the subject of considerable contention, in no small part due to its Japanese roots; a culture that's had a difficult time contending with the first-person perspective. But its existence reflects a significant sea change for videogames: While certain standards for seemingly similar games aren't met, other aspects of its ingenious approach to a thus-far creatively stymied genre are nothing short of evolutionary.

In spite of any inconsistencies, disparities, or shortcomings, Breakdown is an enormously compelling, satisfying game—one imparting a joy of discovery sorely lacking in far too many of today's biggest titles. And when Breakdown is at its best, it lets loose with a far more tactile one-two punch than the standard shotguns-and-sniper-rifles fare could ever hope to convey.

Copyright © 2004 Ziff Davis Media Inc. All Rights Reserved. Originally appearing in Xbox Nation.