Warning: This post contains spoilers for Spec Ops: The Line
In most games,Ā the designers have done all they can to try to disguise the rails. Rails in this case being a metaphor for linear storytelling. Linear storytelling is not inherently bad, but often seems that way when āyouā, or moreĀ accuratelyĀ the character you control, are forced into aĀ decisionĀ that the player finds to be idiotic. This breaks immersion.
Good examples of rails can be seen during the Half-Life series, where there are few points that you might feel likeĀ you’veĀ been forced into making a stupidĀ decision. (Well – maybe GordonĀ didn’tĀ want to jump blindly into a teleporter and go toĀ hostile alien Zen. But he did anyway…because he was told to).
Every step of your journey is utterly predetermined, but often this goes unnoticed or seems like emergent behaviour. This makes it all the more jarring when you are forced to jump into a prisoner transport pod that immobilizesĀ you and you canāt control itās direction.
A bad example is Mass Effect 2, where you donāt ever get the option to tell Cerberus to go stick their idiocy where it hurts, but instead you bumble along following the orders of a guy who you have every reason to distrust and hate.
Spec Ops: The Line works differently. As already mentioned, most games do their best to present you with the illusion of choice, the try to disguise the rails. Spec Ops instead givesĀ you the illusion of having no choice, and disguises your choices. The player thinks they are on a rail, but there are many places where this can be ignored.
The one that stood out for me was the point in the game that Lugo was hanged by angry locals (angryĀ doesn’tĀ really do their state of mind justice – the only remaining drinking water in Dubai has been destroyed, and it is all your fault).
At this point I was not thinking in terms of āShooting civilians might be a fail stateā, IĀ wasn’tĀ worrying about the gameĀ any more. The only thing going through my head was I WILL NOT DO THIS AGAIN. I fired in the air, hoping to drive them away. It worked, and Adams and Walker could continue.
IĀ didn’tĀ think anything of it until I spoke to a friend who finished the game after me.
He said that heād had to put the game down at this point, he found it too depressing that the game forced you to gun down yet more civilians.
This works heavily in the gameās favour. By disguising the fact that you ever had a choice at all, you can do what feels natural, without ever having to break immersion.
Another example of this is how you deal with the ātestā that Konrad sets up. This one more obviously had a choice involved, but even here you can go off the rails – (Konradās rails, anyway. Konrad is the GM at this point, in a game-within a game).
Konrad asks you to choose between two prisoners.
The man on the right is a civilian, who stole water. A capital offence, as Konrad remarks. The man on the left is one of Konradās own men, who was sent to bring in the civilian for punishment (we all know that soldiers are extremely good at civilian crowd control). During the arrest he killed five more people: the manās family.
I shot the sheriff soldier (but I did not shoot the deputy)
Later I found out that there were ways around this – you could have attacked the snipers instead, or shot the ropes (triggering an attack by the snipers).
When I first got to this bit, I assumed that it was just the start of a long line of ātestsā that Konrad would dream up, to try and persuade you that he was right, and it was the only way to ensure the survival of as many people as possible. I wasĀ surprisedĀ then to find that this was it, really, KonradĀ didn’tĀ have any more moralising to do (well, sort of. Iāll get to that in aĀ separateĀ post).