The Sands of Time
At the end of Uncharted 2, peace is restored, love is found, and jokes are made. Uncharted 3 did not need to exist to finish any story arch. No henchman of Lazaravic got away. No shocking twist revealed a nuclear plot at the very end. Uncharted 2 ended and it was good.
Uncharted 3, then, has to prove its existential necessity. It does so in the sophisticated arena of characterization. It tries to tell us who Nathan Drake and Victor Sullivan, and to a lesser extent their posse, are--what they care about, where they come from, why they adventure as they do. Drake is in his mid 30s. Sully is getting on in years. Elena is doing real journalism. There is a feeling of arrested development as this aging group heads off for that one last adventure. And the game addresses it. Humorous asides that point out patterns and probing questions about why the chase matters are common. There is a melancholy here that no sinking cruise ships or exploding planes can eliminate. Drake is confronting his demons.
The story does not rest on its laurels, but it does rest on a formula. The pacing of Uncharted 2 was so good Naughty Dog took an etching. Quiet moments almost always perfectly follow bombastic ones. Puzzles come when you need some brain work instead of gun play. The game plays with exhaustion by keeping some sequences or collections of gun fights going a little longer than you expect, giving you a sense of desperation even as Drake himself expresses as much. The beats are the same, but the sections themselves feel immaculately constructed, at least until an off-kilter ending.
Gunplay is satisfying. Each shot has more impact than it did in Uncharted 2. Enemies, at normal difficulty, die when they deserve to die in a universe where the hero can take a good twenty shots before he dies. Most of, if not all, the times I died, if I'm being completely honest, were due to enemies flanking me or catching me off guard. I succeeded thorugh vigilence, not luck or button mashing. The fisticuffs combat is more robust but still simple fun. It's not batman but it doesn't feel stale, either. I am a bit surprised enemies would ever stop shooting our hero to brawl him, though.
The environments on display are the best ever. The traversal feels natural and the locations, from a French chateau built on a crusader castle to a cruise ship awaiting its cargo in a real Indian ship graveyard, they are skillfully attuned to the reality of the place and fantastic possibilities of it. The chateau contains details like William Morris wallpaper, a design messiah of the time. Where Uncharted excels above all others is in authenticity of place. It allows a great melding of reality and fantasy when the themes of a real castle or village are extenuated in an imaginary tomb or temple.
Naughty Dog also deserve rich recognition for their use of Middle Eastern countries not as terrorist hotbeds or false monocultures (cough: Every modern military shooter), but as vibrant, diverse locales. They speak to some cultural differences and poke at authoritarian rules, but never feel as though they are denigrating a people. As an obvious homage to Lawrence of Arabia, Uncharted 3 makes Yemen, Syria, and Oman into mystical, powerful landscapes rather than wartorn catastrophes.
Characters are complex and approachable. The villains are unfortunately unremarkable, even if given some past motivations. But Elena's quiet criticism, Drakes charismatic but see-through bravado, Chloe's more grounded heroism, Sully's gruff compassion, and a wonderful turn by the newcomer Charlie Cutter are well done. Resolution for some can be rushed, but I cared about them enough to feel dismay at that rushing. Samir, an apparent beduin tribesman, is more of an archetype than a person, which is disappointing.
My greatest critique for the game is also, I think, its point: It all builds to something that it is hard to care about. Uncharted 2 involved protection of innocence and revenge against wanton cruelty. Uncharted 3 involves selfish adventure and tested friendships, but the fabled Atlantis of the Sands is more a symbol of a goal than a tangible accomplishment. Drake's duality is at focus here. I wanted a scene of self-questioning and realization. The end gives an opportunity for this, but it is not taken.
It is less fun when the triumphs over insurmountable odds feel empty. I laughed and shuddered and was pleasantly shocked throughout the campaign, but I wanted something more by the end, something I did not get.
(Multiplayer and co-op are great. Consider my score for the single player only)
