Prototype is excess. It is what happens when game designers grow up with American comic books post-comics code and the type of Japanese animation that is more interested in overblown displays of power than telling a story. It is a game with rules that are designed to be broken at every turn. The player is rewarded for brazen and barbaric tactics. In Prototype, there are too many abilities and limitless power, yet no loyalty to an ideal. Like X-Men’s Dark Phoenix, Alex Mercer is granted godlike status with no one to stand in his way. The game revels in bloodshed and in selfish pursuits that amount to little more than breadcrumbs on the trail of some government conspiracy. Prototype is advertised as a “superhero” video game. But Alex Mercer is no hero. He isn’t even an anti-hero. He is a plague on humanity. And at the end of it all, after everything he has wreaked upon the city of New York, this descriptor proves to be the most accurate.

After a few hours of play, Prototype will come across as a patchwork of unfinished concepts. On the one hand, it offers up such a varied selection of powers and skills that it will suit any playing style, and in theory adds levels of complexity to completing the tasks that are presented to the player. Yet on the other, Prototype provides two completely overpowered vehicles that will get any job done a lot faster, without the strategic use of Alex’s talents. This is a game that needs rules put in place. While I wanted to figure out other ways to approach Prototype’s challenges, the winning strategy was to cause enough havoc to summon a strike team, and then steal their vehicles. Aside from some fairly engaging boss battles where vehicles were not options, the challenge in Prototype is the player’s own restraint.

Prototype suffers the fate of similarly themed films that are released in the theatres at the same time. The Playstation 3 exclusive InFamous covers the familiar “regular person becomes super-powered entity” theme as well, and the games were often compared to each other in the video game media circuit. This comparison was unfair, because aside from that one superficial quality they are completely different games. The most important difference being that InFamous approaches the situation with a morality angle – about as complicated as the one in Jedi Knight II: Jedi Outcast – but still, it’s something to shape the behavior of most players.

The most logical comparison to Prototype is actually UbiSoft’s Assassin’s Creed. They are free-roaming games set inside the walls of a city, with optional objectives scattered about that can be completed in between the story-driven missions. The movement options are equally flexible, yet more amplified in Prototype – but then you’re supposed to be a superhuman. Subterfuge also plays a large role, in that your identity must be kept secret under most circumstances and to infiltrate some objectives. Of course, once you’re spotted you may as well prepare to kill everything in sight in Prototype. In Assassin’s Creed, especially near the end of the game, this kind of carelessness results in a quick death, as you are pursued by what seems like the entire city.

Prototype suffers as a concept because it is an old game. The appearance I can live with; despite the bland textures, monotonous architecture and aging graphics engine it’s not completely horrible to look at. Where Prototype shows its age is the underlying design. It could have worked five years ago when the “open world” trend was still being explored in the wake of Grand Theft Auto III’s success. However this is 2009, and people have come to expect certain things from their “sandbox” games. Prototype smacks of a developer that is still playing catch-up to the design philosophy that lets players create their own experiences. Instead, they hope that all the stuff they included in the game – the variety of powers, the gratuitous violence, the numerous missions – will distract from the design of a developer that is still experimenting with the concept instead of refining it based on the games that have preceded it.

Yet there is something strangely fascinating about Prototype’s ability to exaggerate everything. Whether it’s jumping 30 feet into the air from a standstill and landing in a crater, running from sidewalks up the sides of the world’s tallest buildings, or bringing down helicopters with a giant tendril, Radical Entertainment are constantly referencing the superhero as interpreted by an adolescent male. He’s full of angst, he has limitless power, and he is here to fuck shit up. The driver behind the whole story – discovering who was responsible for Alex’s condition – constantly asserts his hatred of authoritative figures and the selfish desires to find out what happened, no matter what the cost in human lives. Even Alex’s appearance – a fashionable leather racing jacket with hoodie that’s always up over his head – just externalizes the immaturity of the character^[1].

In any game with an “open world”^[2], the narrative will always suffer. So the game includes missions that must be completed to further the plot, unlock new areas or powers, or because the developers think this is A Good Idea. What Prototype does well is make these story based missions as clean and concise as any of the side missions, where parts of the “Web of Intrigue” are revealed through short movies. The Web of Intrigue consists of memories absorbed from the many civilian and military characters inhabiting the city. The similarities to the Weapon X project were startling – right down to the grainy footage that was used effectively in the X-Men films to depict pieces of Wolverine’s past. Some of the side missions require you to obtain these memories, while others can be gathered from people you find wandering the streets. None of them are truly disposable, as they all provide a small piece to support the story being told by the main mission. The fact that they are incomplete and so short allows them to be found at any time without sacrificing the narrative. However, the story consistently appears to be penned by an angst-addled teenager, making some of the events that transpire a little tough to accept without rolling your eyes. Alex’s need for information is one of the central themes in Prototype, but you’d never know it with the game’s unwavering focus on the violence that must always transpire.

Despite the game’s perceived openness, the actual execution of these side missions is immersion breaking. For example, if you are tasked with killing a certain number of soldiers within a given time limit, they will descend on your location once you get to the mission area. However, whether you succeed or fail in this mission, the military will suddenly disperse and it will be as if nothing ever happened. There is no high alert; the military aren’t even aware of your presence unless you break your disguise.

Where this system really breaks down is how the rewards are structured for completing the missions. Even though I enjoyed running around New York causing mayhem with no repercussions during the side missions, the experience points received don’t come close to the rewards for completing the story missions. So unless you just want practice with Alex’s various powers or are a completionist and want to obtain all parts of the Web of Intrigue, halfway through the game when Alex is loaded out with most of his special abilities there is no reason to pursue them any longer. It’s not like you’re saving people and there is some intangible reward for completing a mission because it was the right thing to do.^[3]

Though I have to give Radical some credit, because they tried their hardest to keep the story out of the way of the player’s experimentation with the game’s environment and Alex’s powers. Because there are so many things that Alex can do, it’s as if they expect players to occupy themselves through mass killing and exaggerated acrobatics from the tops of skyscrapers. This can be broken up by few timed missions where you have to race across the city, or glide from the tops of the building to hit a target. These non-destructive missions can be pretty fun. But their marginal nature ensures the player knows that’s not what this game is about.

At the beginning of Prototype, the player is given a bit of background before being placed into what resembles The End of Days. Buildings throb with corruption, smoke fills the air, bodies and rubble line the streets. Around you, the people left standing shamble around like zombies and the remaining military garrison level entire city blocks to stem the tide of a viral outbreak. Alex has every ability in the game at this point, and you are given no other objective except to defend yourself in the chaos. Claws come out, and slaughter ensues in a shower of blood and severed limbs. Earthquakes erupt at your feet as you pound the ground with oversized fists. This is a glimpse of the future, as the remainder of the game will be told as a flashback. It’s another take on the Metroid or Castlevania approach where a fully equipped avatar is given to the player right away to hold their attention and instill a singular purpose: become this character.

At every turn, Prototype wants to convey this limitless power through Alex. He can smash tanks with his mutating fists and leap from building to building without even having to fly. And yet Radical Entertainment felt the need to give Alex such a prodigious list of abilities, that some even cancel each other out. Why would you worry about levelling your bare fistfighting skills, when you have the Hammerfist that can level people and vehicles alike? You can glide, but once you’ve maxed out the jumping and Air Dash abilities there’s really no need for gliding to quickly get across the rooftops of the city.

Aside from vague references to Alex’s condition being the reason for his powers, there isn’t any explanation given as to why he is able to do these things. How does Alex’s condition fit into gliding, the whipfist, or his ability to conjure spikes from the ground? It seems that the expectation of the designers is that you’ll want to play with this character simply because there are so many things that he can do.

Then there is the disturbing ability for Alex to absorb any human – whether infected or not – into his body. The “Consume” power adds health to Alex and gives him the appearance of what he absorbed, and the entire City’s population becomes a bottomless well of health regeneration. As if killing people indiscriminately wasn’t enough, innocent bystanders are a resource to be abused by the player in their pursuit of more death and destruction.

Prototype exhibits a total lack of regard for human life in almost all aspects of play. However, the most fascinating aspects of the game were the stealth and subterfuge elements that were inserted as if to counter the constant aggression from the player towards the game. Since Alex is a wanted man, it is essential that his powers aren’t used in the open, civilians aren’t killed in view of the military or the military be engaged directly. Disguises are easily obtained by Consuming any NPC in the game. A lot can be accomplished in disguise: whether it’s infiltrating a military outpost, hijacking a tank, or just trying to blend into a crowd after being noticed. Gaining the “Patsy” ability later on is ingenious: instead of just keeping your identity secret, you can actively call out civilians or soldiers as “The Enemy” for a quick distraction. As you can imagine it doesn’t end well for them.

The implementation of the Disguise system is impressive; you can disappear almost instantaneously as long as you can find a covered location to hide and change your appearance. In fact, evasion itself becomes a game once a strike team is alerted to your location. When Alex is fully equipped, running away from a strike team over skyscrapers, diving into alleyways and grabbing civilians to change your appearance can be extremely gratifying, and resembles the many escape sequences from Assassin’s Creed. And yet the game doesn’t really encourage this resolution because you are rewarded more experience points for killing the strike team rather than avoiding them. It’s this straightforward approach to conflict that begins Prototype’s collapse under its unusual need to constantly parade every method of destruction imaginable in front of the player.

With all the planning that went into Alex’s multitude of abilities, Radical still felt the need to include controllable vehicles in the form of tanks and helicopters. This was a grievous miscalculation on the part of the designers, as it undercuts one of the game’s key themes: providing ultimate power through Alex himself. Vehicles detach players from this philosophy as they impart the easiest way to complete any mission. Start killing people to attract the attention of the military who will summon a Strike Team, steal their vehicles, and total annihilation of the opposition isn’t far behind. Near the end of the game when the missions become tougher as most of the city is infected and your identity is harder to disguise, it becomes second nature to run to the nearest tank and start plowing through the crowd. Prototype is no longer a superhero game; it is Grand Theft Auto with tanks.

Even the story missions don’t pressure you to use your powers. While some may force you to purchase an ability to proceed, you don’t actually need it; it’s just a way for the designers to help unskilled players make the mission more manageable. It’s not like there is a roadblock preventing you from physically proceeding, like in a Metroid or Castlevania adventure. There are no rules in how to advance Alex’s abilities; the open character development system allows players to purchase any of the abilities as they become available through the course of the game. But because there are so many, and they are all but overridden by vehicles, what is the incentive for players to spend any time developing the ideal character build? Aside from additional health points and the vehicle piloting skills, there’s really no need to focus any attention on the other skills except to get past the story missions that require them as prerequisites. Alex can do some amazing things, and the idea of perfecting combinations and devastator attacks is certainly appealing. But when there is a skeleton key for every single objective in the game, the player’s experience is short circuited by making the easy route so accessible.

Radical Entertainment wanted to convey power; they wanted to show Alex as an elemental instrument of destruction. Regardless of the loose connections to a story that reveals his origins, he has no allegiance to a cause. He will kill and maim and destroy until he finds what he is looking for. About halfway through Prototype, I started to question the game’s motives and messages. Between all of the carnage and explosions and chaos, is there a message? Or is Prototype exactly what it seems: a playground of death and destruction, even worse than the criminal fantasies of the Grand Theft Auto series?

When I’m running through the streets of New York, I can kill whoever I want, whether for sport or to Consume them for health. I might attract the attention of the military; perhaps even cause them to chase after me. But if a strike team arrives, there is no risk of me being captured. There are two outcomes: either I die fighting, or I kill the entire strike team leaving countless victims behind (innocent and military alike) and receive an experience point award for this result. It’s not like being chased by escalating police forces in Grand Theft Auto; in those games, there is more of a chance of me dying. The only real solution to avoid the wrath of police pursuit is escape. In Prototype, I am granted the powers to overcome an entire army. There is no risk of failure, only inconvenience.

Prototype gives no constraints to the player, and no moral compass to let the player know where they stand in the game world. There are no penalties for killing innocents or the military aside from attracting attention; instead, you are rewarded for killing people indiscriminately with health or experience points. Alex’s motives are selfish, and everything in his way is expendable in the search for the reasons behind his condition. It’s a teenage power fantasy horribly unbalanced in favor of the player, where great power comes with no responsibility. Prototype is a game desperate for limits and rules; we have already advanced past the playground stage in open world games. Prototype only serves as another example to illustrate how much the lauded “freedom” aspect of sandbox games are taking on negative connotations.

Upon inspection, Alex Mercer has no personality, either. He is rage, he is angst, he is a plague personified. He is actually one of the most reprehensible characters I’ve ever played in a video game. Nevertheless, Prototype tries its hardest to ground him in humanity by including a sister that is the catalyst for most of the main missions, even one that requires him to save her. Except Alex is all but invincible; there is no danger in any of his pursuits. How can we possibly sympathize with this character! It’s an aborted attempt at adding depth to his personality, because in every single act before and after these interludes with his sister he is responsible for the deaths of hundreds.

The story takes an unexpected – and completely inconsistent – turn near the end of the game, where the target you were after isn’t your target anymore, and there is a lot of exposition where you are supposed to nod your head profoundly, learning the real reason for Alex’s condition. Alex is a virus that has taken human form, and is responsible for the infection of New York City. Then he has to fight an arbitrary boss character. What was gained in the aftermath? Peace of mind? Alex wasn’t even human; none of this should matter to him. It feels like a disingenuous closure to justify what has happened over the course of the game. The ending seems so completely disassociated with the proceedings that it’s almost as if Radical thought they had to come up with an ending just so people would stop playing, because at the end of the game Alex is practically a god, and could easily consume, terrorize and destroy the city until it is dust.

And yet I played this game until completion. I was gripped by its unrelenting need for attention as another building crumbles, or another frightened mob of civilians is mowed down by a tank under my control. I stared in awe as Alex leapt across the city, yanking helicopters from the sky and destroying them with a flying kick off the roof of a skyscraper. Prototype is purest spectacle. I was able to tolerate it, even accept it for its duration, because it speaks to some power fantasy inside all of us, where we daydream about the ability to produce some hidden talent for exacting fatal revenge when slighted. Prototype taps into this primordial dark side, and for a while I liked it. But like Dark Phoenix, I wondered how long I could sustain giving in to these urges while sacrificing my humanity as everything around me turned to death.

Prototype is instant gratification if you enjoy violent video games, but it is severely lacking in focus. It is confused, just like the adolescent personality it often reflects. There is no message, except that being a bad person can be fun, rewarding and perfectly acceptable. As an exercise in inventive displays of power, Prototype had the potential to demonstrate a system that makes constructive use of Alex Mercer’s powers. Instead it overloads the player with features, to thinly disguse the lack of meaning and senseless destruction behind their activities. Prototype is a video game desperate for limits. As it stands, it is adolescent fantasy taken to new heights of excess, where infinite power is given with no moral guidance. And with the freedom imparted to do anything, it seems like an awful waste without motives to stand for something, instead of nothing.