Mad Max Review

 Black-on-Black.

There's something to be said about the science of release dates. The time of year and week can all greatly influence those ever important day one sales, and so can making sure not to release the game in the same few days as the next big Metal Gear. Yeah, trying to go toe-to-toe with Hideo Kojima tends to be a recipe for disaster. Such was the case for the long-doomed Mad Max game which collapsed spectacularly in the face of staunch competition that absolutely buried this little game and relegated it to the realms of 'lost gem' forever more. I'd put off finally getting around to the game, which actually showed considerable promise during it's marketing stages with impressive set-piece vehicular combat and eye-popping ravenous storms, until finishing Days Gone. Now with that out the way I seem to have smoothly transitioned over to another post-apocalyptic anti-hero led open world game prominently revolving around a central vehicle and fuel management, who'd have thought?

Mad Max marks the debut of one of the most influential post-apocalyptic franchises of all time to the video game space, not counting some Atari mess-of-a-game I'm sure exists out there. (Yep, 1990 release on the 2600.) The visual of desert strewn Australia has become the goto marquee for practically every franchise of this genre, and Fallout still retained it's 'Leather armour' as a nod to the Road Warrior Max all the way up until Fallout 4 which ruined that tradition along with all the others it squandered. (Still bitter I see.) Following the resurgence of interest in the franchise with the release of Fury Road (2015)- this game was conjured up as something of a sequel leveraging the newly realised myth-like take on the story of Max in an open world action adventure game.

Max is thrust into the dunes of a long-dried ocean, deprived of all of his iconic tools from his armour to his shotgun to his car, the legendary black-on-black; as he is left for dead following a brutal battle with the son of Immortan Joe (From Fury Road). Mad Max achieves what very few RPGs can by marrying together the progression of the narrative to the RPG progression of the character, as the game presents the slow building of a replacement car, alongside cobbling together new armour and a makeshift gun- as necessary steps on Max's journey to travel into the 'Plains of Silence' where Max hopes to finally escape the guilt of letting his family die all the way back in the first Mad Max movie that hardly anyone actually remembers.

This means that the core of the gameplay loop, even as it is expressed through the story missions, is based around scavenging either specific new parts or miscellaneous scrap that can be turned into upgrades- and it is the freedom through which the player finds these items that Mad Max settles on it's greatest structural strengths. Pretty much everything you engage with in the open world, from picking through small camps to fighting through enemy strongholds, to taking out convoys, to braving insane dust storms- rewards the player with the universal currency of 'scrap'- meaning you're never really pigeon-holed into a certain type of open world activity in order to advance- with the exception of the rare specific part that needs to be grabbed from one particular part of the map.

The Magnum Opus, Max's replacement car, is constructed from a literal frame on wheels into a powerhouse with an impressive level of internal and external customisation to make this vehicle really feel like the player's own. Whilst at the beginning of the game you're simply happy to have a car that moves faster than walking- with time you'll be able to settle in certain builds that prioritise speed or basing power, and invest in really fantastic upgrades that make the game's genuinely impressive car combat stand out. All whilst not worrying too much about fuel because, thank god, the rate of fuel leakage is sensible. (Take note, Days Gone!)

Given the legacy of the franchise in question: the car really was what Mad Max needed to get right most of all, and with a weighty-powerful handling, wide open spaces to let rip and an impressively cinematic flair to car crashes- Avalanche certainly delivered! Bashing into raider's death karts is satisfying enough, but shooting a hook onto specific parts and then ripping them off with a working physics-enabled cable? That's sick. Ripping a driver out their windscreen or tearing a wheel off it's hinges and watching the car barrel out of control never gets old. But that's just the base gear. By the end of the game you'll be hurling exploding 'lightning rods' and shooting flamethrowers out of your side exhausts- this is the kind of car-combat a Mad Max game demanded to have.

And when you're out of the car? What then? Well, then you actually get to enjoy a decently built Arkham clone fit with a basic move-set and counters. There's nowhere near the level of complexity and flow of a Rocksteady Arkham game; but there's enough to scratch that free-flow itch with genuinely crunchy strikes and satisfyingly painful finisher animations brought to life with some great sound design work. There's even some parrying timed button prompts at later levels, nudging the player's skill-bone; and once you start getting a reliable source of ammo the makeshift sawn-off is a great combo diversifier of it's own. Altogether Max's combat suite is a damn-sight more meaty and put-together than one would expect from a game like this, and I don't hate it one bit at all.

Enemy variety is a bit lacking on the actual 'challenge' level; although visually the team put together an absolutely wacky cast of post-world psychos. Colourful and lanky, crazed and unpredictable- it's a bit of shame that pretty much everyone goes down to the same basic combos because these guys look positively freaky. I think it really does speak to the strength of the combat development team, in style and content, that I still find something satisfying about crushing these guys- even if there are only two or three archetypes that really make me change up my game. If there were literally two more tactically-challenging enemies, I'd consider this suite entirely serviceable for the game as it is. They're that close to satisfying! As it is, outposts can start to feel repetitive after a while once you've started to figure out how combat works and there's far too many of them to clear throughout the whole game- as there is going to always be when we're talking about an open world.

Of course as this is an open world game, it is in the story that Mad Max falters a little, not because the narrative is bad but simply because it's largely static- as is the nature of the character himself. An Iconic character like Max can't really embark on a proper arc, and that is a bit of the charm of him. Always knowing that Max is out for himself, and never quite knowing who he can open up to, is satisfying in it's own way- but it can be frustrating to have the promise of an arc dangled in front of the player before being regressed before our eyes. I accept that as a totally legitimate narrative tool to keep an Iconic character where they are, mind you- but that doesn't mean I don't find it annoying. Max leaves this narrative exactly the same as how he came into it, and it's not through lack of trying to change.

The larger world around Max is memorable in it's own way, crazed and larger than life and populated with more Australian accents than you can shake a didgeridoo at- but there is a ethereal impermanence to it. Perhaps Days Gone has just left a mark on how I see these sorts of 'barren worlds' but I never found myself caring about any of the settlements I worked alongside or the people I met therein, because I never really see the reality in them- although that in itself is part of the style of Mad Max. It's almost supposed to feel like aspects of a fairy tale. Which makes me at odds with my own feelings on the overall characterisation of the world. There's a cartoon-edge which both undercuts and outlines the tragedy around the character of Max making moments when he is clearly confronted- which are pretty much exclusively during the optional conversations with the Level-up merchant- feel both out-of-place and strangely apropos.  

Visually, at least, I really loved the world. The wide open wastes of the drained sea bed littered with the hulks of old ships and towering lighthouses- there's a solid personality dotted about the place which makes the world more than just another 'barren post-apocalyptic desert' setting. Of course, the world is at it's most stark when wrecked by the breathtaking storm walls that swallow up the world, turning the whole world in a whirlwind of chaos. Battling a convoy that gets drowned in a sea of storms is a dynamic shift worth living through for the experience of it all alone, and Avalanche brought that moment to the forefront of it's liveliness. There is certainly a case to be made for 'brown world is brown', but the colour of the various paint-strewn bandits, and the brilliant glare of the sun, offset by the deep blue of night- on a primary spectrum this game can be a stark work of empty art. Then again, I'm a sucker for empty worlds that fill space with their enormous magnificence, aren't I?

Conclusion

Mad Max is a game borne from a dozen influences manned and cared for by a team that really knew how and why those influences worked. When I see all that Mad Max achieved, I can't see a single fault in direction but simply in the resources the team had available to them. Individually I don't think there is a single element that Mad Max pulls off to a fantastic degree beyond the car combat, which I genuinely think should be an example to others, but the bringing together of these elements in a cohesive manner is in itself an above average feat. I have to recommend this game, and probably even go a bit further to knock its score perhaps a grade or so higher than it deserves. In that light, given the entire game on offer, Mad Max probably rightly earns it's spot to a solid B grade on the arbitrary scaling just by being solidly better than average titles; sliding out of the C's for those great vehicular battle moments. I won't call this a must buy, but if you're looking for a little something between your Far Cry's and your Day's Gones- both in length and style- you can't go wrong with Avalanche's Mad Max.

So are Smash-style fighting games a thing now?

Contract weave into a spire of obligations

The spikey haired Premier of the Sora, Donald, Goofy cult has finally ascended to his rightful place in the pantheon of Smash Bros. thus ending the long saga of the single greatest crossover fighting game in history with a guessable, but still laudable, conclusion. But for those who looked upon this as an end, as did I, for this era of fighting games, I suppose it's high time for all of us to eat some massive crow because the wider world has taken this as a green light to shove their feet through the slamming door. It really is quite strange, because if we ignore Brawlhalla, (which has been trucking along for a hot minute now and does a lot of things that Smash did along with cool crossover events) there hasn't really been many other fighting games that does what Smash does. It's very existence was a USP. But now we've got 2. One released and one recently accidently revealed, and both come cloaked in this sinister, towering corporatism which shows perfectly why this type of game should be exclusive to those who want to make it.

Nickelodeon All-Star Brawl is the already released game that's done the rounds, and it has managed to hit the ground running despite having the single most generic name it's possible to have in this genre. Sorry 'Playstation All-Stars Battle Royale', you've been out generic-ed. (Wait, that game was called 'Battle Royale' a full 4 years before PUBG? Well that's interesting...) There was always going to be some attraction to this game which promised to flaunt old-school era (My old-school, I mean) Nick characters for people to smash about with, simply because of the nostalgia factor. But I'm seeing some actual enjoyment from a few people as well, mixed in with genuine concerns regarding seriously skewered balancing which seems to transcend usual high-level tiering play and bleeds into casual fun too. (Did you really expect a finely tuned fighter right out of the gate? I didn't.)

But when you cast just a slightly more invasive critical eye on everything here than you have to start asking a few serious questions, afterall wasn't the late Steve Hillenburg, the creator of Spongebob, against his adorably yellow sponge starring in crossover projects? As well as the idea of a Patrick Show and Sponge Bob kids, which are both now a reality. Though maybe I'm being presumptive and his issues wouldn't have extended to games, that wouldn't be too much of a surprise as the world's are pretty separate from one another. However then you stop and think about how in a Nickelodeon game starring Spongbob charatcers, Avatar characters, Catdog, Nigel Thronberry, Reptar, Lucy Loud and so much more; not a single one is being voiced by the original VA talent. Bare in mind, most of these actors are very active in the voice acting community right now, Nick hasn't dug up any relic TV shows, so it would only take an ask and a paycheck. They just don't want to, and isn't that a little telling?

And on the otherside of the news wall to the shadowy incorporeal world of 'speculation', we have the famed Warner Bros studio bringing their own fighting game and- wait hold on. The movie studio? They're doing a fighting game? What? Speculation is a bit of a bold statement, this is leaked to the point of near confirmation with so much out there that we're hearing of ongoing negotiations to bring in characters from across the- Warner-verse? This is so weird. I understand the crossover of video game franchises, that makes total sense and I have no gripes with how it has all been done, I've come to grips with the animated show crossover potential, they occupy the same medium, same as gaming, so it feels natural for them to shoulder up. But Warner Bros properties? Really? Different franchises from all over the place united only because they take a paycheck from the same place? (Tell me that's not just a little bit cynical)

This isn't even the first time they've tried this sort of weird thing. Do you remember Space Jam 2 where, under the guise of making this a 'bigger sequel', Warner decided that this Looney Toons movie needed cameos from every major franchise they could get their grubby mitts on from Justice League, Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones and... A Clockwork Orange? (In a kid's movie? Is anyone going to- nah, it's clear that Warner highups have never seen that movie. No need to spoil it for them.) For some reason WB think that if the 'cinematic universe' path to dominance is a road that has been worn-down and set aflame by Disney's Marvel, then they'll slam all gear in a multiuniversal crossover instead. And to be fair the idea is certainly different, although that doesn't mean I think it's a good one, or well conceived.

So far this news only really blew up because of Warner Bros. embarrassing themselves by trailing several years behind on a meme. (Thanks for Big Chungus in Space Jam, guys, you really hit that one on the height of it's zeitgeist) This time it's the all-powerful Shaggy meme that steamed out a couple of years back. Yep, Shaggy is going to be a fighter in this game and that alone has scored just a little bit of free publicity as people see that headline and then quickly check their calendars to make sure they haven't accidentally slipped back in time. But rumours run even deeper than that. Apparently we can expect Batman (Duh) and Gandalf. (Um... okay that one leaves me a little speechless) Is this going to be Sir Ian McKellen's iconic Gandalf? Because with an upcoming new take on Lord of the Rings that is presumably going to recast the main characters, that seems a little bit reductive in helping audiences come to terms with these new faces. (But then, they've already licenced a crappy mobile game with the old likenesses, so maybe WB is just stupid.)

If there's one thing I can say positive about this proposed fighting game, and there is literally only one thing, it's that the assumed title derived from a copyright filing, MULTIVERSUS, is actually pretty cool. It oozes tons more imagination than 'All-Stars Brawl'. But to loop back to my original point, this is all showcasing the head-scratching fact that Smash's brand of fighting game is spawning something of a subgenre, and it's weird that this is happening after 21 years in series developments. (although to be fair, we don't know that Multiversus is going to be stock-based, but the cross-over element, as well as the general timing, certainly fits that mould) Is the allure just because the king is stepping down from the throne, inviting this mad scramble to snatch the absent throne? Are they drooling after the decades of success that the Smash formula has heralded? Why do it just after the final flare of the Life-light chorus, I just don't get the reasoning!

Throwing more competition into any field of gaming is generally a good thing, rising tides raise all ships, as they say, but there's a touch of the corporate that I just can't shake here which poisons any excitement I otherwise might have built up. Why bring Nickelodeon characters to life if you don't also invite the iconic voices that come with them, Spongebob without Tom Kenney is just a household sponge, what are you doing? And though it'll definitely be funny to watch Fred Flintstone, Mad Max and Tom and Jerry wrapped up in a cartoon puff-cloud (All of whom are apparently confirmed characters for this game) without the eye of a damned maestro in charge of this project this is going to turn into a total mess of conflicting styles and characters that turns out little better than a MUGEN fighter. I suppose the next 'Fighter approaching' isn't going to be a character reveal, but the reveal of the next studio trying to springboard their inhouse franchises for a cheap turn-around. 

In defence of: Checklist open worlds

One down, half a million to go.

You've just loaded up your brand new open world game and you're busy breathing in the air of a new alien world to explore. You look upon this great vast mystery and begin to mourn, mourn for the time when this land has no more secrets, when you know every hill before you approach, and you've delved into every cave. Soon you'll plunge the land of all it's stories and begin to make your own, but until then you have the work of an adventurer to do. There is only one problem. This isn't the kind of world that you will come to know intimately, is it. And that's because it's not just an open world; it's a checklist open world.

The term 'checklist open world' was coined to describe the type of open world experience that is lacking that innate desire to see and be part of everything. I'm talking about the kinds of worlds were you don't feel the careful thought that went behind every rock placement, wherein there isn't a story in every environment and in which you'll likely put down the game long before you start memorizing road names. These are kinds of 'open worlds' that flooded the AAA gaming market back in the early 2010's when the 'open world' trend started to hit it's zenith. Everyone wanted to copy the kind of numbers that games like 'Fallout: New Vegas' and GTA V were pulling in, but most completely underestimated the amount of work and care that the developers need to devote to bring such worlds to life.

I have mentioned my disdain for this kind of practice before, albeit in passing. This is the main reason why I find myself initially repulsed whenever I hear of a new Ubisoft game, because they have been the biggest distributors of Checklist open worlds. And yet, despite my obvious hatred, I still find myself playing through these games from time to time and occasionally enjoying the experience. (Othertimes I end up disgusted in myself for having wasted the hours of my life to play through that junk. Assassin's Creed Rogue owes me at least 8 hours.) So in comes the question; just exactly what is it that distinguishes a bad checklist open world from a good one?

One could see this topic as attempting to distinguish between a dump and a turd, but this series is called 'In defence of' and not 'In condemnation of' (Although working on this blog has seriously made me consider creating the latter) so I'll try to wring out as many positives as possible. Maybe that makes me a hypocrite, but I have no self respect so that's hardly a concern for me. Oh, and do note, this still doesn't mean I like it when game's companies excrete these sorry excuses for games. Nothing could endear me to the development team less, in fact. (That being said there are some of these open worlds the excel in certain areas that are certainly worth mentioning.)

Firstly when addressing a topic like this, it is practically my fiduciary duty to bring up the folk at Ubisoft. When the 'Open world' fad began to hit Ubisoft weren't just early adopters, they were practically the estranged parents of the movement. Before there were even whiffs of the industry heading this direction, Ubisoft made the decision to scrap their linear action adventure series, Prince of Persia, and turn it into a more profitable and creatively freeing game; Assassin's Creed. Most at the time found the game to be a revolution to 3rd person action games and were completely enamoured by the 'free form' story style. In the years to come there has been an Assassin's Creed release almost every year and the series' trends have become industry cliches, so this series is really the place to start when considering the topic at hand.

I must precede my oncoming ribbing by asserting one immutable fact, the world designers for Ubisoft are, in my opinion, second to none. When tasked with realizing an ancient city from another culture, these folk spare no expense in their digital reconstructions and manage to capture the glory and majesty of cultural architecture with undeniable flair. The things they manage to accomplish are frankly amazing and certainly praise worthy. However, I suspect, the plain fact that this team is separate from those that populate the world is perhaps Ubisoft's first misstep.

Activities are one of the most important aspects of creating an open world that feels immersive. It is a way for the player to interact with the world in a way that doesn't break from the flow of gameplay and can even be fun. Early Ubisoft games kinda half understood this dynamic as they implemented what could be charitably called 'activites' but are actually more akin to 'tasks'. (This is where the 'checklist' part of the name comes in.) Whenever you look at the map for a Ubisoft world, you'll often immediately notice how it is cluttered with little icons shoved into every single corner of the world. Initially, this might make you think there is a lot to do, but in reality that just means there is a lot of filler to wade through.

For an example, I'll take a gander at that 'Assassin's Creed: Rogue' game that I mentioned. This is a game that boasts the Pacific Ocean as it's playground with plenty of uncharted islands to see, small eastern colonies to visit and even the budding city of New York to set down in. Once you go to these locations however, you'll notice that there is only a handful of things to do. Either you go around and loot all the map's chests, pick up the floating 'Animus fragments' or, if you're lucky, chase around a floating page with a sea shanty printed on the side. (As if you're crew can read...) There is no intrinsic value attributed to any of these activities and you'll quickly realize that the only reason you are partaking is to complete the collectible tally at the bottom of the screen. (An act which becomes pretty mind numbing by hour 5.)

Games like The Witcher 3 handle such locations in a completely different, and more enjoyable, way. Those games contextualize the character as a Witcher and thus all of his activities are attributed the value of 'Witcher work'. This is a game that'll have you delving ruins in search of treasures but they'll be locations haunted by ghosts and ghouls, hence places where a Witcher is meant to be. Plus, the things you find in these troves are actually valuable, making the journey feel more worthwhile. Now, you'd be hard pressed to find anyone call the Witcher games 'checklist open worlds', but that doesn't mean that game can't teach some things to games like Assassin's Creed.

I will admit, however, that there does come a certain comfort from these kinds of open worlds that focus less on making each area meaningful and instead ensuring they have a practical purpose to exist. I'm sure that I'm not the only person in the world who enjoys multitasking whilst gaming, which is something that can difficult to do in narrative driven games. Sometimes I have other tasks to do and find myself unable to keep up with my favourite narrative driven adventure the way I want to. (That's part of the reason why I've had trouble picking up Xenoblade Chronicles 2.) Games like these can make for suitable background fodder whilst I do other things.

That sounds like a backhanded compliment, but I'm being genuine about my applause here. The more busy we make ourselves the less time we have to do the things that we love to do, and people like me need to keep busy for the sake of our own mental health. Although to pursue that at the cost of my favourite hobby would feel like losing a part of myself that I'll never recover from. (Maybe that's my childishness speaking, but it tends to speak louder then my dissent so I'll listen.) Having a mindless game to keep my hands busy whilst I 'work' (Or whatever it is that I do when I'm not writing these) helps just enough to keep me happy.

Additionally, the ludicrous amount of pointless collectibles in these game offers another interesting bump to the old endorphins. Everyone loves collecting things. It's the sole reason why the Crackdown series was ever popular. (Those little green orbs might as well be full of crack.) Therefore a game in which you endless pursue a seemingly endless stream of collectibles can be fulfilling to the mind on a base level. (If not an intellectual one.) I can speak from experience in how content I've been in spending hours hunting chests around Egypt in Assassin's Creed Origins. I can go through the process of killing time whilst fooling myself into thinking I'm actually achieving something. (That's a positive, I think.)

There is also one of the big problems of these types of games to consider. Their tendency to be too large. That isn't to say that the map is too large for the player to traverse, most developers have the good sense to stay away from Day-Z size maps, but rather that it is too big to fill with worthwhile and intelligent content. However, there is a hidden benefit in this, for maps of these sizes do wonders for feeding the inner adventurous spirit within some gamers. There are those who love uncovering what lay behind the next hill, even when the answer isn't that interesting, and oversized 'checklist open worlds' can provide to that sensation in spades.

Games like Mad Max and Days Gone shaped themselves around the premise of a 'road trip' with having the character cover great distances in pursuit of their ultimate goal. That can be hard to represent for developers who are concerned with creating a fully immersive and believable world, but when they are merely creating chunks of playspace or a pretty facade, it's easier to ramp up these huge distances and have the player truly experience that elongated journey. Perhaps that's enough to establish some emotional resonance with the plight of the protagonist if handled correctly.

Ultimately, there isn't much to love about 'Checklist open worlds', but that doesn't mean I think the practise is worthless and should be eradicated from the industry. It is an unfortunate fact that some Devs are straddled with making an Open world when they honestly don't have the resources or know how to pull it off, but the 'checklist formula' allows for such games to be formed into something that isn't a total mess. It may not be particularly inspired, but it sure is functional.