Max Payne review

No solution of bourbon and painkillers could have prepared me for the moment a ghost I thought I buried a few years back walked through the door. Yes, I remember Max Payne; his bursting onto the scene like a junkie desperate for his next fix, willing to blow away anything in his path to finally get his hit. Here he stood before me again with the same facts - the rush of adrenaline - but something had changed. The story read the same but this time the sound of a different tune drifted up from the lonely streets New York. No need for lengthy prologue this time, we were whisked straight to the scene of the crime. Like some graphic novel from the spinner rack at the comic store the plot was laid out in front of me, complete with a stern voiceover. From there it was up to me. Events that had grown misty since the last time Max appeared had to be played out again. However, this time I wasn't in the thick of the action. No, it was as if I was looking down upon it, seeing things at a slanted angle. Yet I was still in control; I had to keep control. To my surprise control wasn't much of an issue. I had dreamt that when the action started and the empty bullets casings fell to the floor I'd be frozen to the spot, facing the wrong way or even more terrifying, fumbling like a rookie flatfoot, unable to find my gun in time. But the new approach I took ignored my fears. When things got hot, I was always cool - raining bullets down on those stupid enough to get in the way. If I hit the ground it wouldn't be for lack of control. It would take more than that to put me down where the many fallen heroes lay that had dared to take on the sinister scent that hangs in every New York minute. With my new perspective I feared seeing the criminals before they saw me would be difficult. More than once the scum of the underworld proved my fears well placed. It seemed they always had the jump on me, shooting from somewhere I couldn't pick up. This time the story was going to be harder to read. I put it to the back of my mind. The criminals were in my way, and nothing in my way was going to stay there. With what seemed like someone pushing a button, my senses raised and time seemed to slow around me. I leapt through the air unloading lead with both hands through Smith & Wesson's barrels into the chest of whichever goon was unlucky enough to be standing the closest. After a split second it was over, the bodies of the fallen laying around me like the dirty puddles along a dark alley after a storm. My point of view might have changed but the outcome remained the same. I found myself pressing ever onward, body after body slumping to ground before me with a high calibre invitation to hell planted in their heart. This new way of seeing things wasn’t ideal, but as I progressed it felt more impressive with every step. Each new area of hell's kitchen still held the same menace as before. Sound hung in the air breathing into it an atmosphere of suppression. Along with it came the sinking feeling that blood shed was only a moment away. No pinch was needed to see if I was awake. This story was the real thing; and would end the same as before - with violence. Still barely believing it even existed I carried on my quest to take revenge on the slime that oozed through the veins of the city, clogging up its pours, giving it a terminal case of blood poisoning. Newcomers to the tale would no doubt overlook what they found, dismissing it as something too awkward to swallow. Those who knew the tale however would press on certain the secret of the tale was close at hand. Time slowing, bullets flying and bodies falling - yes, there was nothing to beat the feeling when that happened, when you stood, low on ammunition, surrounded by people wanting your head. These were the times when you knew it was either you or them; and you had no inclination for your head to be used as a novelty ashtray. When the bullets finished flying they where dead; and you weren't. In the end that's all that really matters to a conscience only concerned with revenge. As I reached for the bottle in the bottom drawer, the chair on the other side of the desk still warm where Max had sat, it occurred to me that while he may not be perfect even getting him onto the GBA at all is an amazing credit to the developers. Despite a few niggling problems Max had lost none of his charm and this title comes highly recommended to both Payne and shoot'em up fans a like.