This is the second part of a two-part review of Prince of Persia (2008) and the “Epilogue” (2009) downloadable content. There are spoilers, but you already knew that. This review examines the “Epilogue” adventure and its relationship with the original game. The review of the original game can be read in Part 1.

Whether fans of Prince of Persia (2008) want to accept it or not, Epilogue (2009) is canon. At its core, it is a meandering journey through the corrupted Underground Palace that adds neither depth to the original story, nor game mechanics of any real consequence to the original game^[1]. So what was the purpose of this new content? The cynical answer to this question would be “to get stupid people to pay for the intended ending to the original game.” And while I can agree with that statement, there are parts of Epilogue that skirt the edges of something great – something that should have formed the basis for the original game. Epilogue implores us to keep the candle burning for this series, in a last-ditch attempt to convince us that UbiSoft hasn’t lost their touch with the franchise they resurrected so successfully six years ago. Prince of Persia (2008) was just the beginning; we can expect more from the obviously planned sequels. Except Epilogue fails to convince us that there is anything worth waiting for.

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This is the first part of a two-part review of Prince of Persia (2008) and the “Epilogue” (2009) downloadable content. There are spoilers, but you already knew that. Taking UbiSoft Montreal’s intentions at face value one should be able to review both as a complete game, but I don’t think it would be fair to the intent of the original…but I’m getting ahead of myself.

When I finished Prince of Persia (2008), I was left feeling incredibly disheartened. The game’s ending made me question what I had been spending the last seven hours trying to achieve; it basically undoes everything you have been setting out to do for the entire game. But I did not feel frustrated; rather, I felt the ending was necessary – and the game brilliantly makes you a willing participant in this sequence of events. It does not give you a choice because it is something that you know, deep down, needs to be done. Prince of Persia is not an action game. It is barely an adventure game. It is a roleplaying game without the choice and the number crunching and the inventory management. You are given the role of the reluctant hero, thrust into a situation that clearly requires significant physical and emotional investment, and ultimately tasked with making a decision that has but a single response.

As a storytelling device, Prince of Persia excels. In fact, if this was a review for an interactive storybook, Prince of Persia would be the best and most beautiful interactive storybook of 2008, The End. But it is not. It is a video game.

As a video game, Prince of Persia leaves me wondering whether this is yet another milestone on the road towards the future of video games that I have come to dread. It leaves far too much out of the hands of the player, and instead relies on a few button presses to initiate the marvelous acrobatic moves that take place on screen in the march towards an inevitable conclusion. Prince of Persia manifests every video game enthusiast’s complaint about linearity and player freedom. And because it is so overt, it is identified as the greatest fault committed by this game.

Should Prince of Persia be held to a different standard because it simply illustrates what we all know is true about video games that rely on narrative? The way it showcases the story as the main driver behind the action is no different than the most linear of first person shooters, but there is a degree of skill involved in running whatever gauntlet a FPS would present. Prince of Persia is flexible in its controls, easily forgives failure, and yet when it tries to offer complexity in the form of Player-initiated exploration and a structured combo system for combat, they are in such sharp contrast as to be superfluous to the game’s design. Prince of Persia is in constant struggle with what is expected of it, and what it wants to achieve. And the game ultimately suffers for it.

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The “Gaming Made Me” series of video game retrospectives started by Rock, Paper, Shotgun came from games industry writers, journalists and the designers that make them. It’s become a kind of collective autobiography sourcing the video games that shaped who they are.

Of course, the cynical part of me expected this community-driven effort to consist of mostly name-dropping key titles from the history of video games. But I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the response of webloggers that have taken up the mantle where Rock, Paper, Shotgun left off^[1].

So now I feel the need to contribute, because I think it is absolutely necessary for anyone who loves to play or write about video games to recognize the ones that got them into the hobby. Or in the case of game designers and professional writers, what made them get into the industry itself.

I have been into computers since very early on in my life, and playing computer games was a natural extension of that interest. However, I had no idea that this hobby would result in me creating a website to talk about them. I’m no industry figure, weblogging personality or budding game designer – I’m just a guy that loves to play video games, and write about them. For the people that truly love video games, they are as important as the books they read or the movies they watched when growing up.

For any game weblog, I’d say that writing something like “Gaming Made Me” is more essential than an “About” page. It’s important to let readers know where the author is coming from, and what games influenced their lives and opinions of what makes a great video game. It provides context for the reviews and criticism they produce.

At this point in my life, video games are no longer just a hobby. They have made me a writer, and they have taught me to be critical of things beyond video games. Both video games and this website have become such immutable aspects of my life, that I can’t imagine it without them.

It was hard to come up with this list. So hard, that I had to split it into two. I wanted it be a list of games that shaped me as a player of video games, as well as my viewpoints on what makes a great video game, instead of simply rewording a “favorite games of all time” list. So I’m not going to list off the Zeldas, the Half-Lifes, the Thiefs, or the Rainbow Sixes. That would be too easy for me. No name dropping of the classics and pretending as if they meant something to me in my early development as a gamer. The following list of games got me started in the hobby, tempered my opinion of the medium, and introduced me to the genres I love. Most importantly these are the games that eventually led me to write about them^[2]. They are the ones that left an indelible mark. And for that, they must be recognized.

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My association with adventure games is a tenuous one. While Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis is my favorite game of all time, I haven’t actively pursued the genre in years. The last adventure game I played seriously was Microïd’s Still Life (2005), which was good, but mostly made me feel like I should have played Post Mortem (2002) first.

However, when I see headlines like “Why Adventure Has a Future” I take notice, because there’s nothing more entertaining than reading someone’s take on why they think an entire genre is safe from a fate that never seems to happen. It’s just too bad the article did nothing to usher in this new golden age of adventure games; instead, it just made me incredibly angry after being duped by an advertisement disguised as revelation.

Here’s an idea: let’s give the representative of a game publisher/distributor (ENCORE) a column at a very prominent gaming news website (EDGE online) where they can attach a sensational headline to something that amounts to no more than a press release to advertise upcoming games in their new product line (Mystery Adventure Games). It will be sure to get attention, and will actually do more to convince readers the exact opposite. It will contain insightful phrases like:

Adventure Games rely heavily on stories from literature, film, and historical events and people.

The games in question are Dracula 3: Path of the Dragon and Nostradamus: The Lost Prophecy, which obviously form the inspiration for such a statement.

Quickly reviewing the history of the genre, some of the best adventure games have come from brand new IP such as the Monkey Island series, the aforementioned Post Mortem/Still Life series, The Dig, and everyone’s favorite Grim Fandago. A bit of cursory research past writing the introductory paragraph in this article would have shown the author that there’s more to adventure games than full motion video and “interactive storylines”. Throwing a historical figure into your game doesn’t immediately make it more appealing (even if it’s the “first game ever” to do it).

Now for some focus-grouping:

Story-based game play lends itself towards non-teen; women based audiences, who have an appreciation for the genre and the story. Women tend to appreciate the character development, and interaction along with gripping storylines.

I think any gamer that’s been following the hobby for the last 20 years can appreciate those aspects of a game. And adventure games are not the only genre to adopt these tenets, either.

In closing, a relentless assault on my intelligence:

Well crafted Adventure Games will sell and what developers and publishers must keep in mind is that the key to making great Adventure Game [sic] is to deliver good graphics, game play and gripping story line. A good Adventure Game is as addicting as a good book but with the added bonus of story line interaction and eye catching graphics it is more than a book it is an Adventure Game.

The least ENCORE could do is hire someone who can string together a readable sentence to promote their games. Based on the aggregate scores at Gamerankings, it seems to me that neither game this article was designed to sell is doing very well in reviews. So why should any consumer consider these products? Because they are the unappreciated future of adventure games?

Like any PC gamer, I grew up playing mostly adventure games. Over the years the genre has been cast aside by the majority of game reviewers as niche, as the title that usually gets thrown to the interns. Adventure games need better advocacy, and not just by specialist sites like the excellent Adventure Gamers. Shameless promotional articles like these only serve to damage the reputation of the genre, by embellishing games that are obviously ill-equipped to represent it. Not to mention what it says about the editors at EDGE online.

In the September issue, Kristen Salvatore writes about the adventure game adaptation of the film:

I confess that I’m something of a literature snob, so it isn’t easy for me to admit I enjoyed a mainstream book like The Da Vinci Code – I love that it’s rooted in factual historical mysteries unlocked with factual historical information.

Except that it isn’t. I guess it was wrong to assume that Brown’s detractors had actively slagged both the book and the film enough over the past three months to get people to start thinking clearly, pointing out that the basis for most of his novel was either entirely fiction or a pseudo-historical text that had been written simply to support some religious crackpot theory. But factual? Come on, a literature snob would have at least done a little casual research before making a statement like that.