Dishonored wisely sacrifices flashiness for emergent gameplay and dynamic, player-authored thrills...
Oddly enough, these videos probably do the best job of capturing how Dishonored feels to play; just as they are bizarrely off the mark despite feeling more honest and true to the game's ethos than most other dev diaries, the game itself adamantly - and sometimes sloppily - circumvents most staples of modern gaming in order to bring back the dynamism of the non-linear FPS classics of yore. The resulting experience is an engrossing love-letter to games like Deus Ex, and Thief, and though the game's execution doesn't always live up to its many ambitions, the degree of freedom it grants players is simply awe-inspiring.
The game doesn't start out by letting you loose, however; its decidedly dull opening moments are largely spent setting the stage for the cliched drama of betrayal and revenge. As Corvo Attano, bodyguard to the empress, you quickly find yourself framed for the monarch's murder at the hands of a shadowy band of assassins. Her assassination is, of course, done in the name of placing the egotistical, tyrannical second-in-command in charge until her daughter comes of age. This, in turn, leads Corvo to team up with a group of loyalists to the royal family, and hunt down all those behind the conspiracy. Unfortunately, the ensuing narrative is just as bland as its setup; there's not one interesting character or plot point in the entire game, and twists can be seen from miles away.
Luckily, this mostly becomes a non-issue as the game hands the reins over to you, letting you explore the twisted city of Dunwall to your heart's content. The city itself, with its many narratives both explicit and implied, is far more engrossing than the game's shoddy traditional storytelling. A rat plague sweeps the city, leaving its citizens dead, dying, or even zombified. A devastating flood leaves a good portion of Dunwall in ruins. Propaganda booms over loud-speakers and corrupt aristocrats surround themselves with armies of guardsmen while commoners die in filth. Learning about Dunwall's fascinating and horrifying issues is spellbinding, and will likely send you scouring the corners of its semi-open-world levels in search of more bits of lore, whether they come in the form of side quests, books, or audio recordings.
Furthering the macabre appeal of Dunwall is its masterful visual design, which comes from the mind of Viktor Antonov, the man who devised Half-Life 2's iconic style. Much like the imposing, police-state of City 17, Dunwall's looming, angular architecture is strikingly creepy, and contrasts nicely with the cartoony character models. The city's Victorian-meets-steampunk designs are a joy to behold and explore, and each new environment brings its own unique wonders. The tech that backs this all up isn't always up to the job - there are a number of pop-in issues, blurry textures, and poor graphical effects - but these issues are far outweighed by the bold splendor of the artistry.
Of course, your primary means of exploring, and even shaping the city of Dunwall is through the game's litany of entertaining sandbox mechanics. Corvo, already possessed of superhuman agility and quite good with a knife, quickly becomes acquainted with a mysterious being who grants him magical powers and a genius quartermaster who supplies him with the latest in steampunk murder instruments. The result is an absolute glut of gadgets and abilities to toy around with that also impressively subverts feeling overwhelming. Taking the time to experiment with your massive arsenal can yield some shockingly brutal outcomes. Tricks like stopping time while you're surrounded, plopping a grenade amidst your frozen pursuers, then running to a safe distance and watching the ensuing bloodbath are vastly entertaining, and feel especially rewarding because the game gives you so few indications of how powers and gadgets can be used in tandem. You are given complete free rein over the use of your many powers and the game is balanced enough to make any play style viable, so whether you wish to take a completely non-lethal route through the game's 12 hour campaign, shoot everyone you see in the face, or simply mess around with your myriad of powers to your heart's content, Dishonored's exceedingly smart level design will ensure you can succeed.
On my first playthrough, I favored abilities like Slow Time and Blink that would allow me to traverse the environment fast, kill my targets even faster, and get out of Dodge before anyone caught on to me. Thus far, this play style has been the most satisfying; Dishonored features the best first-person platforming this side of Mirror's Edge, and once you get the hang of its movement mechanics, gracefully hopping and teleporting around the roofs of Dunwall is absolutely joyous. Taking both the non-lethal, or the head-on approach can be equally thrilling, but require an adept knowledge of the game's levels and mechanics; though these options aren't as accessible, they're ultimately just as fine-tuned as any more balanced play style, and the fact that Dishonored can support the myriad of potential approaches is immensely impressive.
Unfortunately, Dishonored's ill-conceived narrative rears its ugly head within the realm of gameplay thanks to the addition of a confounding morality system. Based on the number of people you kill, levels will be slightly (or in the case of the final level, significantly) altered to reflect the degree of unrest you've caused in Dunwall; shed too much blood and you'll be faced with more security, zombies and vicious, flesh-eating plague rats than those who prefer a more peaceful approach. While the idea of handling choice and consequence through the direct actions of players rather than gameplay-halting dialog trees is certainly a good one, it simply doesn't fit the game's essence; the bag of tricks Dishonored hands you actively encourages experimenting with different gameplay styles, so the decision to incorporate a restrictive morality calculus is truly baffling.
This system proves to be equally flawed from a narrative standpoint. Emily, the daughter of the decreased empress, looks up to Corvo, and her dialogue and behavior is thus influenced by his actions. While this is also a novel concept, it simply doesn't work within the greater context of the narrative for many reasons. For one, Emily's responses to Corvo's level of brutality are comically overblown; though her reactive dialogue is meant to instill in you a sense of pride or guilt, they'll probably end up causing you to chuckle more than anything else. Secondly, players are never given a reason to care too much about Emily. In fact, aside from the game's final sequence, there is only one other time at which the player is required to interact with her; I, for one, felt no inclination to check up on her between missions, so her heavy involvement in the endgame sequences never meant much. While this may sound somewhat inconsequential, it's highly indicative of just how poorly planned Dishonored's morality system is in the first place; not only is it contrary to its design philosophies, it also comes to the detriment of the game's already poor narrative. Why, then, it is in place, is a true mystery. Ever since BioWare pioneered binary good/evil decision-making, similar systems have been arbitrarily tacked on to far too many games, and Dishonored is an unfortunately perfect example of why such gameplay conceits should be used far more sparingly than they actually are.
About a third of the way through the game, after collecting most of my primary abilities and gadgets, I forced myself to stop caring about my moral standing; such delightfully violent powers were too good to not toy with. It was soon after that I came across the Golden Cat, a brothel which my two assassination targets were patronizing, and more importantly, the game's most open-ended environment. It was in this moment - what would turn out to be the first of many - I found myself stuck, not because of the game's difficulty, but rather due to the overwhelming vastness of options that lay before me: I could have easily gone on a rampage, killing anyone who stands between me and my marks, or I could perhaps have slinked through a few open windows, silently dispatching my specified targets and escaping without anyone knowing the difference. What's more, I could've done a separate favor for the local crime boss in exchange for the abduction of the corrupt conspirators. Considering these options isn't arresting simply because they are so manifold, but also because I know they'll all be gleefully entertaining. Not many games can support your every whim, and even fewer can ensure that your choices can yield fun and entertaining results, but such is the beauty of Dishonored. At a time when the design behind most action games sacrifices too much player input to mimic the straightforward thrills of a Hollywood blockbuster, it's nice to play a game that is willing to sacrifice flashiness for emergent gameplay and dynamic, player-authored fun. Games like Dishonored have been done before, and have been done better, but rarely in recent years have they been executed so effectively.
+Amazingly free-form gameplay
+Dunwall is a joy to behold and explore
+Great first-person platforming
-Uninteresting story; mostly bland characters
-Confounding morality system