Throughout my experiences of gaming, I've often wondered if our relatively new medium of (dare I say it incase of slander:) art could be getting too immersive. Half of the thrill of video games is of course immersing yourself within the world of some alternate persona and in the case of games such as Bioshock in which the player assumes the role of a silent protgonist, it just becomes more inherent. Sure it makes the entire affair feel a little less realistic, with no verbiage coming from this virtual 'you' but that just gives you the opportunity to express your own thoughts within your head, pretend it's a part of the script. Not that I want to endorse the criticisms highly voiced by Jack Thompson and various other anti-video game opposers, but it does get a bit eery when you find that video games have the ability to make you emote fear, love and remorse. For the most part, the stereotype has only compared frustration and anger in video games as how you feel when you lose a level or die but is it actually possible to become so connected with your character that you feel genuine rage at the situation presented within the surroundings?
Bioshock certainly resonated with me on a great many levels, that said however it was with a great deal of surprise I finally admitted I liked it. Having bought an Xbox 360 solely to play the game, I actually felt like I'd made a worthy purchase which in a way pained me. To get the picture there are two key aspects of the situation you need to take into account: Firstly, I'm very much a PlayStation 'fanboy' and nothing would have made me happier than to return my 360 in disgust to the shop I'd bought it from and forgotten the whole ordeal. Second, from the very moment I heard about Bioshock I thought that the entire concept was dumb at best and ridiculous at most downright honest. The idea of an underwater city with big cyborg looking creatures and mutants gone insane sounds absolutely insane now, let alone 40 years ago. However for some reason, once you've actually played Bioshock, the entire affair sounds completely rational. I've twisted the words in my mind one thousand different ways and yet I still can't find that same level of cynicism.
Believe me when I say I've no intention to undermine other aspects of Bioshock when I mention that the only thing keeping my interest keen was the execution of the story and themes. Okay, I do mean to undermine some aspects of the game, but I'm still allowed some cynicism, right? Anyway, back to the point, Bioshocks main selling point is it's presentation. First off is the graphics, which are simply astounding. They're recognisably based on real objects, the setting is inherently 1960's and the mood in which it settles itself is downright haunting. It's the truest example of a world gone wrong to date and it's rendered perfectly. The visceral scope of the game may seem to be against the point of the story, but it directly correlates what's taking place at all times and that's important. Graphically, the game looks real, but almost slightly cartoonish, which is possibly an attempt to counteract the Uncanny Valley effect of gamers acknowledging the fakeness of a game as the graphics improve to life-like standards. In any case, when based against the shadows and the grim surroundings faced throughout the game, the visuals certainly achieve maximum effect.
The story is one of those that is so intricate that it is practically impossible to explain the plot without spoiling it, or taking up enough space to write a short essay. The basic premise is that your character is onboard a plane which crashes into the ocean. You, the lone survivor, swim to an oddly placed Lighthouse, where you find yourself descending through the depths of the ocean to the hidden paradise of Rapture, only Rapture is not quite the Utopia it might have been and it's up to you to save it. Throughout the course of the plot, you find yourself introduced to many characters who all come to mean something to you, sometimes positive, sometimes not so much. That said they will guide you and pave the way for plot twists, plot advancements and plot obscurities galore.
One of Bioshock's most advanced methods of storytelling is through a means of allowing you to collect audio diaries which explain the rise and fall of Rapture in varying detail. Although most of these are relevant to Raptures history, some offer disturbing insights into specific characters, particularly Surgeon Steinman who seems to have an obsession with symmetry, as well as famed radio host Sander Cohen who is just wrong in every direction...
The gameplay handles well for a good deal of it feeling like a standard first-person shooter, however the inclusion of plasmid upgrades adds a little spice to the dispatching of crazed citizens of the dystopia you find yourself cleansing. These plasmids give you the opportunity to use mutant-like abilities, freeze your enemies or set them aflame, or cover them in bees if that would give you more satisfaction. However, overall, when these aspects of the gameplay, plus the puzzle solving, as well as safe cracking and actually making an effort to purchase the plasmids all bind up together, they create a whole, if not somewhat expected result. It's not as if anything was bad, it's just that no part of it really seems fresh. Which is a flaw.
That said, my biggest issue with the game is probably best summised as 'the final hour' by which I mean the final hour of the game. Never before have I seen a game slip from sheer poignant beauty to relatively lame so fast in my life. Given the freedom thrown your way for the most of the game, the final level feels almost on-rails, and is immediately followed by an under-whelmingly arcade-esque boss fight, who is far too easy to beat as well. Frankly, it's really just one step in the wrong direction, but when all prior boss fights have been merged so well and so realisticly into the story with logical battlegrounds and settings, it's unsettling for your final Bioshock experience to be one reminiscent of times we have long passed.
All said and done, however, these flaws certainly don't wreck the game. They don't even render the experience mediocre. The game itself is a fine work of fiction which takes a wrong turn every now and then (well...only 'then') but still holds true to what it intended to be throughout it's own production which is an examination on fine plotting, standard gameplay and the philosophies of gaming and power. Which brings me back to my original point on: How much of an impact to video games have on our daily lives? Enough to manipulate how we spend our money? Unfortunately, yes. Enough to make us think bad thoughts? In all fairness, most of us did anyway. But enough to kill, or to be truly controlled? I think it's fair to say that technology, though astoundingly quick nowadays, has a way to go before it jumps that hurdle.
