Ghostrunner
A world of pain—usually yours—in GHOSTRUNNER.
The fundamental concept is easy to understand, and mildly terrifying. Each enemy dies in one hit, and so do you. You’ll sometimes die (many) more times in one level here than in an entire game elsewhere. It’s hard—brutally, unforgivingly so—but fair in a way that some obnoxiously difficult games don’t even try to be. I’ve brought a knife to a gun fight, and I love it.
If you’re moving, you’re running. To stay still is ordinarily to invite death; most enemies have guns, they’re all excellent shots, and you only have a sword. There’s no time for quiet contemplation while you’re in the air or running along walls either. Miss a jump or react too slowly to fling yourself at the next wall, and you’ll fall ungracefully to your death. You’re constantly on the move, like a stray dog with excellent parkour skills and nothing left to lose.
Despite the fact that you’ll often have somebody chatting in your ear, there’s no strong narrative to hold everything together. Something about betrayal, something about a vicious ruler, something about human experimentation… it’s, y’know, fine. A Saturday morning cartoon co-directed by Ridley Scott and Quentin Tarantino.
Honestly though, that doesn’t matter. At its best, Ghostrunner is fantastic. Bouncing between walls to jump down to the floor, cutting through two enemies in a row, grappling up to the wall so that you can run along it to leap down once more, sliding under a huge laser blast to destroy the mech that sent it your way, is a unique thrill.
Nonetheless, Ghostrunner occasionally seems to stab itself in the foot. There are multiple instances of travel through the ‘Cybervoid’, a blocky electronic space between areas. Sometimes, this serves as a tutorial area for new abilities. More often, it’s used to force the player into tedious puzzles which may or may not involve slow-paced platforming. There’s absolutely no reason for these (rare) sequences to exist, and they completely kill the pace and atmosphere.
You’re constantly on the move, like a stray dog with parkour skills
GHOST OF A CHANCE
Back in the ‘real’ world, things have been designed very well to avoid some foreseeable pitfalls. The gradual introduction of new enemies and environmental elements prevents monotony setting in without overwhelming you. Crucially, checkpoints have been set out in such a way as to make things reasonable without reducing the challenge.
Levels are split into chunks, enemy encounters and tricky platforming sequences divided by checkpoints. Each fight is essentially a blood-spattered parkour puzzle. I worried that this might be a game where you could only progress by following a strictly determined path, but each arena usually offers at least two routes to start down, and the sequence you kill enemies in is entirely up to you. I prefer to destroy shield generators first so everybody’s vulnerable at once, take down any walking mechs with their huge laser blasts next, then pick off everybody else according to threat.
Near the end of the game, that most unoriginal and annoying enemy type is introduced: The Thing That Explodes When It Gets Too Close. Dying because you run into one around a corner, or get hit by one that you didn’t know was right behind you, is no fun. Thank goodness they only make a brief appearance.
There are a total of four abilities that can be unlocked during the course of the game. Three will kill enemies from a distance, while the fourth can temporarily turn an enemy into an ally. The upgrade system links to these in an interesting way. The more upgrades that you have equipped (easier to deflect bullets with your sword, mark collectibles on your radar, etc), the slower the focus bar necessary to use these abilities passively charges. Like moment-to-moment play, it’s all about risk and reward.
It’s flawed, then, but never critically so. Ghostrunner wants to make you feel like a cybernetically enhanced badass—and it achieves this almost all the time with great style. A game that’s tough and fair and fun? Who’da thunk it.