Dead Space: Trains and Reservoir Dogs
Because I haven’t yet established the fact: I’m playing Dead Space on difficulty level Hard. I turned to my loving wife upon loading up the game for the first time and informed her that, lo, I shall play on the difficulty the game recommends for me.
Bastards. I knew my 360 was trying to kill me.
A likely occurrence, too, given the few heart-stopping moments that I’ve faced recently. In fact, it was the absence of such moments that made my second play session–and completion of the first level–a bit of a dud. Nothing too extreme happened play-wise until the end of the area, a fact which I’m (not so secretly) grateful for, given I’ve already jumped out of my chair a few times.
My penchant’s for the plasma cutter, and I’ve developed preference to aim for the legs–either, doesn’t matter–and, once I’ve limited the mobility of my opponent, shearing off its right arm. This feat is typically sufficient for putting down my foes, often with four to six rounds of ammunition expended (depending upon the intensity of the scene [read: number of opponents] and how precise my aim [read: focus] is as a consequence). Things were, in fact, fine during my second play session–thanks, no doubt, to the wonders of stasis and my ability to dismember and bootfuck pretty much anything stupid enough to attack me either individually or pairs–until the end. At the end of the act, my prediction came true (kabloo goes set-piece! kabloo goes quick escape! nooo goes soon-to-be zombie-fodder NPCs!) when I was, already injured in the explosion, set upon by no less than four enemies at once.
I mentioned that I’m playing on Hard, right, and that consoles are still (relative to my experiences with a mouse and keyboard) new to me, yes?
Well, it was at this point that I learned a number of things. One: stasis is a proximity weapon that, with careful application, may hinder several opponents simultaneously. Two: EA is a bunch of shitheads who, forgetting the better part of valour, have made level progression dependent upon elimination of enemies. This second point was discovered when, finding myself hurt and outnumbered, I unleashed a precisely aimed stasis charge and ran like a mofo for the exit… only to find it locked and, seconds later, that I was in no condition to resist the insistent attentions of three very irritable monstrosities wishing to mate with my eye sockets, anus, and other orifices.
Ugh.
Replaying the scene to EA’s specifications, I dispatched my foes in spite of my limited munitions and health and triggered the cut scene. Having satisfied the level designers’ objectives, I was too busy reflecting on the on-rails game-play I’d thus far encountered (which hitherto I’d been too preoccupied to contemplate) than I was either congratulating myself on a hard-fought victory or paying attention to what said cut scene was conveying. Hmm. Time to adapt the Mr. Pink persona, then, when dealing with creatures wishing me harm: You wanna fuck with me? Lemme show you who yer fuckin’ with.
Completing the first level rewarded me with my first in-game store. At this point, I resisted the urge to use either of the free downloadable content suits, the Elite or Scorpion, for the sake of purity. I mean, let’s be honest: were I to wear either, my first (and arguably most important) impressions of the game would be corrupted. Thus, for your sake, dear phantom readers, I shall soldier on, naked save for my newly purchased Level 2 Suit, seeking salvation for someone from something amidst the cavernous corridors of the Ishimura.