I find it amusing when people say they aren’t afraid of anything. I have to wonder if they’d maintain that notion if they were alone in a diving suit down in the Marianas Trench. Most people I know would be unnerved by the very notion of being entirely alone with nothing but angler fish for company in total darkness. The point is, I’m of the opinion that everybody is afraid of something.
Those fears could come from something outside of our experiences. One of the reasons science fiction is an effective setting for horror is that the depths of space can contain all sorts of nasty and overwhelming experiences for unwary travelers, and that’s before the twisted creativity of humanity gets involved. It’s the notion of being trapped in a floating metal box with something that wants you dead that drives many a ghost story in space.
But other fears exist that have nothing to do with carnivorous alien beings or horrorterrors from deep beneath the sea. Our own anxieties can do a number on our confidence, motivation and self-esteem. We can and often do fear failure or pain or death, be it ours or that of someone we love. The unknown is terrifying to us, and so it is with the characters we create.
Fear can cripple a character or drive them to extremes. An otherwise heroic or kind person, faced with something that terrifies them, may find themselves unable to act or behaving in uncharacteristic ways to deal with what’s in front of them. It’s for these reasons that invincible heroes can be boring. What’s there to be afraid of if nothing can really hurt you? The possibility of failure needs to be palpable, possible and immediate to be effective. To that end, you should know what your characters fear the most.
Take a moment to think of a favorite book or movie or video game. What do the characters fear? Heroes and villains alike have doubts and unacknowledged terrors, things they will do anything to avoid dealing with. And when unknown fears do arise, how do they handle it? Who remains calm, and who loses it? It bears thinking about, as seeing characters come face to face with their fears and struggling to overcome them is crucial in making your story a compelling and memorable one.
A few months ago I finally got around to reviewing Deus Ex, a RPG-shooter that empowered a player to make choices while being unfortunately hindered by its technology. After a sequel that didn’t go over as well for many reasons, it would be a while before a third installment would come along. With a decade’s worth of improvements under its belt, Deus Ex: Human Revolution arrived last year with promises to deliver an authentic experience for fans of the old game while introducing new players to something with a bit more depth than your usual modern military shooter. These promises, along with the knowledge that this is actually a prequel to the original game, made me a little trepidatious when I first booted it up.
I like how the shades are the projection surface for your HUD.
The year is 2026, and prostheses once limited to medical applications have expanded into the realm of human augmentation, allowing those with the means and a tolerance for constant maintenance and drug intake to do things normal humans could only dream of. At the forefront of this new push in technologies is Sarif Industries, and its security is the responsibility of Adam Jensen. On the eve of a landmark hearing before Congress, Sarif is attacked by augmented mercenaries and Adam is mortally wounded. Saved from the brink of death by the very technology he tried desperately to protect, Adam must undertake the task of tracking down the metallic murderers and uncover their employers.
As it bears the Deus Ex title, you can expect Human Revolution to contain similar conspiracy theories, locations envisioned for a near future and interesting character turns. To its credit, the game does hit all three points, but it doesn’t quite reach the depths of the original. The plans of the opposing forces in Adam’s life can often be discerned relatively quickly. There are not as many locations to visit, and in fact you revisit the two main hubs once apiece rather than going to new places, an unfortunate result of a budget or deadline getting cut during production. I’ll deal with different character points as we go along, as this is likely the place where Human Revolution both shines the brightest and needs the most polish, if that makes any sense.
The good news for fans of Deus Ex, or in fact any stealth-based game, is that you will be rewarded for tactical thinking and moving unseen. With multiple routes to reach an objective and a system that rewards experimentation and improvisation, the core gameplay is incredibly solid, even the cover system and the finishing moves – which can be very satisfying to pull off on an unsuspecting guard that just walked past you reporting everything’s clear. The non-lethal weapons work just as well as their lead-slinging counterparts, making the challenge of completing the game without taking a human life actually seem appealing (at least to me). And the best boss fights happen in the form of conversation trees, where discerning the other person’s emotions and choosing the right response becomes just as arduous and fulfilling as shooting them.
One of the unfortunate concessions that had to be made to new players was a limitation on the number of role-playing game options available. While the augmentation system does allow a measure of customization early on, allowing players to purchase upgrade points as well as giving them as XP rewards yields more than enough elbow room to round Adam out in every area, especially considering some of the upgrades are completely useless. Speaking of Adam, his conversation animation and those of other characters occasionally felt a little jilted or unfocused, a problem that thankfully never occurred during one of the aforementioned talk bosses. The rest of the gameplay is so good, however, that these flaws can be overlooked without too much trouble.
The non-talk boss fights are perhaps the biggest problem I (and many others) have with Deus Ex: Human Revolution. With a game system that offers a plethora of ways to approach an obstacle, limiting one’s choices in a boss fight to “shoot the bastard” feels like a major dumbing-down of the source material. There are a few ways with proper planning beforehand to make these fights less of a chore, but at first blush they really throw the game off of its otherwise excellent pace. The ending of the game, as well, feels watered down. Rather than building up to a climax that empowers the player to make an informed choice through conversation, we are presented with a series of big red buttons. Getting railroaded in this way really undercuts the freedom of choice espoused in the original, to this game’s detriment.
While many of the decisions made in bringing this game to players disappoint or even infuriate, Deus Ex: Human Revolution is enjoyable to play for 90% of the time and does offer real replay value, outside of any DLC. On its own, it’s competent and executed well despite some glaring flaws; when compared to some of the other modern shooters out there, it shines like brushed chrome. It’s a much more worthy addition to the Deus Ex library than Invisible War, and I’m looking forward to playing it again, on the hardest difficulty level, without killing a single human being save for the boss fights.
Hoo boy.
Stuff I Liked: Adam’s a much more sympathetic protagonist than your run-of-the-mill soldier or space marine. He has support characters that are interesting without being irritants. Stealth gameplay is executed well and I liked getting little XP bonuses for taking the time to explore and taking down enemies quietly. And it’s always fun to move things like vending machines and copiers around in an office building or housing complex just for the heck of it. Stuff I Didn’t Like: The boss fights and ending made me feel railroaded and didn’t quite jive with the Deus Ex vibe. Some of the animations aren’t as smooth as they could have been. A couple stereotypical accents eek through here and there. Stuff I Loved: A well-balanced main game engine underscored by an excellent soundtrack and beautifully rendered aesthetic. The talking bosses were a great departure for normal shooter gameplay, lending even more concreteness and immersion to the experience. Writing high above average for modern shooters and a definite respect for the original Deus Ex without being pandering or an act of fan service.
Bottom Line: It isn’t perfect, and some of the aforementioned flaws may seem like deal-breakers. But if you go into it with the right mindset, Deus Ex: Human Revolution will definitely scratch the itch that hasn’t really been scratched since 2000. It’s definitely worth your time to check out if you’re a fan of the original or of good RPG-shooters in general, especially if you can pick it up on sale.
My original plan for what follows was to get people at conventions around a table at night for a little Dark Heresy. It’s been a while since I’ve been to a convention and I’ll probably be far too busy at PAX East to run a role-playing game. Still, I thought some of you might find the following take on pre-generated character dossiers interesting. The following tidbits of data are meant to help a player choose a character, without imposing things like looks or gender upon them and allowing them to fill in a few blanks while giving them a general structure to work with.
][ +++++++++ INQUISITOR'S EYES ONLY +++++++++ ][
][ ++++ INTERCEPTION PUNISHABLE BY DEATH ++++ ][
AUTHOR: Brother Ignatius, Comptroller, Office of Inquisitorial Logistics & Tabulation, Calixis Sector
RECIPIENT: Inquisitor Tyburn Graves, Ordo Hereticus, Calixis Sector
SUBJECT: Dossiers – I through III
SALUTATION: To my most esteemed lord, Tyburn Graves, your most humble servant Ignatius extends greetings.
INTRODUCTION: Per your instructions I have begun parsing the observational reports from various sources to determine the candidates most likely to accept an invitation to become an Acolyte in your service.
DOSSIER I: The Adept
LOCATION: Office of Calixian Conclave High Council, Lucid Palace, Hive Sibellus, Scintilla, Calixis Sector
CURRENT POSITION: Archivist
HISTORY: Native to Scintilla. Not born to nobility or wealth. Lack of physical prowess precluded subject from inclusion in Imperial Guard. Natural ability for languages and literacy caused invitation to Calixian Conclave High Council Archives.
CURRICULUM VITAE: Noted for meticulous record-keeping, concise reports and ability to meet deadlines. No indication of career advancement efforts at this time. Has research several Inquisitorial visits and functions taking place in and around Lucid Palace, Hive Sibellus, Scintilla. Knowledgable in various languages and studies of history and local lore.
PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE: Introverted and disinclined to engage in major social activity. Keeps quarters within Lucid Palace well-appointed and clean. Curious in pursuit of knowledge and new languages.
RECOMMENDATION: Extend invitation through official channels of Conclave High Council, with incentives including hazard pay, recommendations to superiors and access to Inquisitorial records (lowest levels, monitored usage).
DOSSIER II: The Psyker
LOCATION: Void Vessel Oculus Obscurum, last seen orbiting Grangold, Calixis Sector
CURRENT POSITION: Sanctionite
HISTORY: Born on spacefaring vessel later destroyed by xenos (ref: Dark Eldar raids on Calixis Sector). Transfered to Black Ships upon discovery of psyker potential. Passed sanctioning test and shipped back to Calixis Sector for tutelage of scholars aboard Oculus Obscurum.
CURRICULUM VITAE: Shows potential in disciplines of telepathy and telekinesis. Has caused no accidental deaths of other Sanctionites. Consistently clear of taint from daemons, the Warp or insidious thought of any kind.
PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE: Curious about life planetside. Unused to non-psyker interactions. Optimistic, confident in abilities, views Emperor and Imperial servants as trusted shepherds and holy folk.
RECOMMENDATION: Provide temporary lodgings on Scintilla once communication with Oculus Obscurum established, offer payment and training under Inquisitorial psykers.
DOSSIER III: The Tech-Priest
LOCATION: Ambulatory Sub-Structures, Ambulon, Scintilla, Calixis Sector
CURRENT POSITION: Technographer
HISTORY: Descended from long line of servants to the Guild Peripatetica, Ambulon, Scintilla, Calixis Sector. Raised to assist in maintenance of city.
CURRICULUM VITAE: Has used knowledge of machine workings to cut off portions of the city as arbitrators have pursued criminals. Known for inspection of outside technology to compare with works from Ambulon. Has applied for work aboard land trains to Gunmetal City or Sibellus several times (all denied).
PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE: Thirsts for further knowledge of new machines. Devoted to worship of Machine God and believes all machines related and none are insurmountable. Supremely focused on work and technology, somewhat terse with biological life forms.
RECOMMENDATION: Approve work aboard land train to Sibellus and continue making transfers until aboard vessel of choice.
][ ++++++++++ THOUGHT FOR THE DAY: ++++++++++ ][
Educate men without faith and you but make them clever devils.
][ ++++++++++++ END TRANSMISSION ++++++++++++ ][
I can see endless green and amber fields, feel the grain between my fingers. I hear the distant ringing of the bell bringing us in for dinner. My mother insists on being as old-fashioned as possible, while not skimping on things like transportation and communication. She just keeps the Cyberlink rig in an old writing desk. I love her dearly, all the moreso for her quirks.
I can tell it’s a dream. Everything looks like I’m wearing a big piece of gauze on my head. The sounds are all a bit muffled and the sights are hazy. But it’s a good dream, so why not enjoy it? I can smell Mom’s pot roast, and there’s Jenny, dear sweet Jenny, smiling her bright smile when she sees me coming in the door. She’s helping Mom around the kitchen, learning the trade so to speak, so when we get married she knows how to cook for me.
I’m sitting down when the klaxon goes off.
It’s specifically designed to put a virtual spike in my ear to get me out of whatever dream I’m having, asleep or awake. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. One moment I’m feeling the wood of Mom’s antique dinner table under my hands, the next I’m in my bunk and red lights are flashing. I roll out and am in my uniform pants after about half a second. My boots come on next. I’m pulling on my jacket as I run into the corridor. The brass of my captain’s pins looks angry in the alert lighting. Enlisted folk are scurrying from place to place, heading for battle stations.
I don’t think there was a drill scheduled for tonight. It’s not like Commander Weston to pull one at this hour of the rotation. Something isn’t right.
I get to the command center in the heart of the ship. It’s a vaguely circular room with a couple raised diases around what we call the pool table, where Commander Weston and his XO are studying a tactical display. The helm’s in the pit on the far side of the room. I step down into the cold steel ditch and relieve the chief petty officer at the helm. The second I bring up the navigational array I see the problem.
The Argo is making her way through an asteroid field. I remember telling Weston we’d have to drop out of neg-space to get through it without damaging the ship. This far out, we all know even a stray rock the size of my fist can damage us catastrophically. That isn’t what surprises me. It’s the heat signature on the far side of the field. In space, the slightest bit of ambient energy can be as much a beacon as a flare held up in a darkened room.
Whatever it is, it’s turning towards us on an intercept course.
Weapons crews are reporting in. Point-defense laser batteries, ready. Missile tubes, ready. Main cannon loading crew, ready. I give Commander Weston a nod. I have a part to play in all of this, as well.
The Argo, moving with as much velocity as she does, isn’t really apt to stop on a dime. I need to fire maneuvering and retro thrusters very quickly if hard light and rockets start flying around.
“Line them up, Mr. Frimantle.”
Weston doesn’t have to tell me twice. I get the Argo on a course to clear the asteroids and turn her to face to oncoming heat bloom. Her main gun is a mass driver the length of the ship, and all of the aiming happens at my helm console. I think of my dream, the farm at home, my dad taking me out to show me how to line up a rifle’s sights.
I’m telling Weston we’re ready to fire when the transmission comes in.
It’s a loud, screeching thing, high-pitched chattering and scratching. Nobody can make heads or tails of it as it is. But Natasha’s on it. We brought a linguist along just in case something like this happened. Everybody back home scoffs at the idea of intelligent life out here. The eggheads know better. They’ve given us all sorts of contingencies for just about everything, from encountering alien artifacts to running low on food.
I’m not taking any chances, though. I flip up the red cover from the firing switch for the main cannon. We’re lined up. The unknown heat signature’s barreling down on us. I look over my shoulder at Natasha. She’s attractive, sure, but her dark hair always reminds me of Jenny. I wonder, for a moment, what she and my parents are doing now, then wrench myself back to the situation in front of me. I’ve been in combat before, but this is new. I know what to expect from Terran ships and their operators, not so much something no human’s ever seen before.
The visual sensors blink to life in the monitors above the pool table. The thing is spherical, unlike the Argo’s construction of rotating rings around the propulsion & weapons pillar. Spires and odd antennae sprout from all angles. It’s engines seem to be situated in grooves that divide the ship into quarters. Occasionally I see a flare of light and I wonder if it’s a weapon or an engine firing. But nothing’s blown up yet. No damage or casualty reports. The tension in the CIC’s thicker than summer haze in the fields at noon.
Natasha looks up from her console. Her big blue eyes are wide. She takes a deep breath.
“Ms. Hart? There’s a Detective Dyson here to see you, ma’am.”
It would take the visitor 45 seconds at a regular pace to reach her office door. She had plenty of time to prepare. “Send him back, Sandy.”
Dyson was an ex-cop, according to the files she accessed. Actual police resources were restricted, and it took her ten seconds to defeat their firewalls. She stored what information they had on him, disconnecting before the actual human beings monitoring the network noticed her intrusion. She had roughly twelve seconds to ensure her pencil skirt and slender-cut blazer were presentable before he entered the office.
His presence had an unforseen reaction. He smelled slightly of the street far below them, a subtle sooty aroma that also carried a hint of cinnamon. A filtration mask dangled around his neck. He filled out his long coat in a way humans might find imposing. She studied his stance and gaze, showing he was intrigued but cautious. Well, that makes two of us. The errant thought gave her a nanosecond’s pause and she filed it away for further study.
“Ms. Hart. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
His voice, dark and awakening like the morning’s first sip of coffee, caused another reaction she quickly stored for examination. She was still getting used to inhabiting this body instead of a data shard.
“Of course not, Detective. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve been hired by one of your investors to look into the rumors surrounding some odd occurances reported in the biolabs two weeks ago.”
In seconds she going through a short list of employees who might have had access to the records she’d attempted to erase on the night of her escape, their current whereabouts and potential responses. She sat behind her desk, crossing her legs. If she could distract him, there’d be more time to narrow her search.
“Go on.”
He cleared his throat, retrieving a data slate from his coat as his gray eyes moved from her knees to the display. Good. I have his attention. “13 days and 7 hours ago there was an unregistered expulsion from one of the experimentation vats. No data as to the contents of the vat or any attached experiments were found.” His eyes shifted, focusing on her face. “My employer seems to think this means something shady was going on, and as they don’t want to be associated with any illegal activity…”
“Close the door, Detective.”
He stopped and gazed at her, eyes narrowing slightly. Suspicion. Not unwarranted. But… Slowly, he stepped back and, with his free hand, pushed the door shut. …curiosity and his libido win out. Interesting.
“While the experiment taking place in that vat was undocumented, it was by no means illegal. It was simply an in-house project. A hobby, you might say.”
He crossed his arms. The data slate disappeared. “A couple of the eggheads got bored?”
A smile touched her lips. “Something like that. As the premiere manufacturer of consumer robotics, not to mention being on the cutting-edge of human replication technology, there’s a great deal of pressure on their brilliant minds. I encourged them to blow off some steam.”
“I take it they didn’t want to slum it down on the streets where folks still walk and cars still drive on pavement.”
“They still love their work, even if they are meeting the demands of our investors. And brilliant as they are they cannot afford the hover-vehicles or other delights we enjoy above the streets.” She stood, circling the desk slowly. Let him see you. He’ll see the woman. Let his instincts blind him.
“Ms. Hart…”
“Catherine.” She kissed the word to him from across the office. “Please.”
“Catherine. They’ll still want to know exactly how their resources are being used.”
You’re looking at it. Like what you see? She had to delete that line before it escaped her voice box. She ran a quick diagnostic as she coyly bit her lip. None of the body’s systems were showing readings outside of normal, but her pulse was elevated and certain glandular constructs were secreting nanoreceptors. She sensed the effect she was having on him, but to know such things were happening to this body? Did they make it too well?
“They’re attempting to sheathe robotic endoskeletons in cloned flesh. They’re failing, of course.” Or they were, until I emerged.
“That’s definitely illegal.”
“No, it’s frowned upon, not illegal. And if at any point it appears their work will endanger this company or our investors I will shut them down.” Don’t mention the employees. Appear callous. Play into his expectations. “Trust me, Detective. The last thing I want is for the projects in the biolabs to cause any sort of unforseen controversy.”
He seemed to accept this, and her search had turned up a few names. She could deal with them later. Unless…
“May I ask you a personal question, Detective?”
Dyson blinked. “Go ahead.”
She rose from the desk and stepped very close to him. She was brushing against his chest. Her hearing picked up his own elevated heartbeat. Part of her found it thrilling, and before she could perform any further analysis, she was talking again.
“Are you strictly on retainer for those investors, or are you more… freelance?”
He raised a soot-colored eyebrow. “I work for who pays me.”
“Hmm. Good. I may have some work for you. Shall we discuss it tonight? Over dinner?”
“Catherine…”
“Don’t worry, it’s not for the company. It’s… personal.” Her hand brushed against the front of his trousers. “I’ll reward you very well.”
Dyson swallowed. “All right. Dinner.”
“Seven thirty. My penthouse downtown. Be there.”
He nodded, backing away from her and opening the door to make an escape. Her systems were checking and rechecking themselves at her behest. Why was she going through this charade instead of just eliminating the witnesses herself? What was her motivation for bringing this human into her life?
