Bergsonian Critique

Uncharted: Drake’s Fortune was released in North America on November 20^th, 2007, and two years later, I got to play it for the first time…

You can imagine my (subtle) surprise then, when I discovered that Uncharted successfully kept marking off the list of my expectations of what is supposed to offer one by one. Indeed, there are transitional cinematics, duck and cover mechanics, few and far between environmental puzzles, explosive barrels, ethnic enemies, car chases, platforming, QTEs (Quick Time Events) and, just like any supposed grand game of late, an arid final boss battle. However, even with such predictabilities, Uncharted remains to be the exception not the rule, particularly in the field of action-oriented adventure games. Calling it ambitious sounds a little bit embellished on anyone’s assurance, but its effort to nail everything right is commendable. While its success story is largely dwindled on its aspiration, it certainly has its fair share of litany that finely borders the edge of utter frustration.

While there’s nothing frustrating about Nathan Drake, it is quite unsettling to see Naughty Dog’s manifestation of “everyman” is a borderline killer. By the end of his escapade in the Amazon, Drake would have killed hundreds upon hundreds of mercenaries for the sake of finding a lost treasure (which may or may not exist), and for him to act completely remorseless about it (particular in the “Out of the Frying Pan” chapter) doesn’t essentially make him any different than what we have seen before. This is, unfortunately, a common syndrome in videogames that many have already diagnosed it, though as pretentious as it may sound, “Ludonarrative Dissonance”.

Yet it’s still worth mentioning that the persona of our hero Nathan Drake is nicely crafted and agreeably fresh, albeit Naughty Dog clearly sought other mediums as a repository for characterization ideas. But with his “three-quarters-tucked’ t-shirt, sense of wit, and subtle charms, the bedraggled Nathan does look and behave like an “everyman”, at least when there’s no one to gun down. His remarks and quibbles upon facing dangerous situations add a tinge of realism to his literally colorful rendering, and when coupled with the brazen and slightly zany Elena, the dynamic duo effortlessly carries out the game’s narrative without the assistance of twists or plot devices, which they are none, or at least good enough to act as incentives.

However, even if we accepted Drake’s unpredictable transition and disharmony of his acts, and even if we excused Uncharted’s adherence to predictable ideas, the uncompromising path the game treads on is still worthy of “wag of the finger”. Almost every enemy, action set piece, and environmental hazard is activated upon a certain shift (whether time, place, or both), leaving few gaps for creativity and large ones for redundancy. The choreography of enemies’ movements and ambushes is so seamless that if you are aware of where and when they spawn, and your marksmanship skills are manageably sharpened, then chances you can sail right through the game’s twenty-two chapters in a record time.

This rigged design is also perceived in the game’s overall levels structure, as only one road can lead to Rome and none other. If there were something that Uncharted didn’t borrow from Snake Eater, Tomb Raider, and Gears of War, it would be the unrestricted approaches to take on a certain task, or at least the illusion to do so.

With that begin said, the game definitely embraces impetuous moments, but sadly in the wrong places. They are certain action set pieces in the game where, at the middle of them, plunge you to death simply because you couldn’t perceive what has happened or what button or action you are supposed to press next. Also when you are finishing off enemies as you gradually move forward in certain clearings, others unexpectedly storm behind you and shoot you dead before you have the chance to duck to safety, especially if you playing in harder difficulty settings where enemies’ fire is more damaging. Fortunately, the game’s checkpoints are merciful most of the time, and you can rewind and resume the challenges until you get them right, but through such continuous replays, trial-and-error would easily creep into the game’s structure, and brief instants of frustration would become something of a norm.

But spaced out from these ugly obstructions is a beautiful game, a visual narrative really, that isn’t shy to breathe life on every corner and spur wondrous spectacles on every action. The verdant, prodigious forests and the thirst inducing crystalline waters are absolute mesh of technological marvel and extraordinary art design. The dingy caverns and old catacombs, while somber, they never look the same on every corridor. The aged ruins and chapels are never too old to flaunt their striking architectures to wondering interlopers. Indeed, for a game that roughly exhausts a quarter of the PlayStation 3’s graphical prowess, it’s remarkable how humidity and wetness can be diffused even during the coldest nights of playtime.

Facial expressions and body movements are also authentically and commonly human: every contortion, grimace, smirk, and irritation, and every stumble, exhaustion, twist, and contraction is believably rendered. Who knew that a male videogame character such as Nathan Drake can engender such subtle and graceful gesticulations as it is seen here (no sexism intended). This recherché presentation and the likewise breathtaking adventure both add a motion and an impression that main performers of a videogame don’t need to look too eccentric and/or blown up, and the setting don’t need to be too fantastical (though the game has its own version of zombie monsters) to win admirations from its spectators. After all, “keeping it real” is not an easy feat to pull off, but when it is done and played right it’s laudably applauded and readily committed to memory.

Surmise to say, not only Uncharted is a safe game to recommend, but also an impossible game to dislike. Its ideas are no longer novel, though its cohesive and tight managements of its wild rides are worth imitating and yes, even replicating. The narrative might have been taken from a lousy B-rated movie, but the pacing and the ingredients of what makes it a great game are worthy for an Oscar nomination, or the equivalent of that in video games world.