Empress Jessamine Kaldwin and her daughter Emily look out over Dunwall.

I’m going to put this right out there: Playing Dishonored over the last week has been one of the most gratifying gaming experiences in recent memory. So much so that I’ve been all but ignoring the new XCOM game (also good), and plenty of other games that are excellent in their own rights, and haven’t regretted their absence in the slightest. This is in part because it feels so fresh, so new, so vibrant, and in part because it’s also been an exercise in nostalgia.

When it comes to reviews, I’m not usually a fan of game-to-game comparisons. For one, they seem like a weak approach to explaining a game’s appeal (or lack thereof), since the comparison often comes at the expense of any actual expression. For another, too often the threads of connection are tenuous and frayed, or to a game I haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing, or, perhaps, to one that I didn’t comprehend the merit of. So let me assure you that I have tried very, very hard to figure out a way to talk about Dishonored without at least mentioning the games that it is emulating, copying, or bettering. Tried and failed.

See, in an industry filled with grinning suits and safe bets and a well-entrenched hype engine, Dishonored feels like a fulfilled promise, or at least a reasonable attempt at one. So let’s talk about its heritage. Not its exact heritage, since I’m not a professional at this, but the heritage that was on my mind as I skulked from one end of the half-mystical city of Dunwall to the other.

Read the rest of this entry →