Un-mimicable
These tools all have something in common: they allow for transgressions of space in a game where transgression is so often intended that it’s only noticeable as such when compared to other, duller, safer games. Dull, safe games do tend to sell, though. Maybe that’s why Arkane Austin were coaxed into making dreary live serviceRedfall, and maybe that’s whyArkane Austin don’t exist anymore. I’d be tempted to call Prey a middle finger to the sort of games Bethesda C-suite, and later Microsoft, probably would have preferred. From its inky mimics to its wider themes, Prey is a Rorschach test, and Rorschachs always did make people with guilty consciousness feel uncomfortable. But Prey always struck me as more concerned with generosity and boundless creativity and paying loving homage to seem like it gave much of a shit about what the rest of the industry was doing.
Prey, like Arkane’sDishonoredgames, has some of the best Steam achievements you’ll ever see. Some of its more obscure and difficult ones offer up permissive inspiration to get real weird with it. To finish them is not just to tick off tasks or indulge in collect-athons, but to get to know Prey intimately, to reveal and delight in its possibilities and permutations. Kill no-one. Kill everyone. Play with no powers. Play with just Typhon powers, then again with just human powers. They were clearly made by someone who, too, knew and loved Prey intimately. But then again, just to know Prey is to love it intimately. Unless you’re wrong, and that’s OK too. Prey would want me to let you be wrong, because it wants such options to be available.
Prey’s story is perfect. Including, and especially, its ending. I will not hear a single complaint, blinded by an exhaustingly literal-minded, Wookiepedia-fied approach to art, that the events you take part in ‘don’t matter’ because of a later plot revelation. The ending is the perfect summation of its themes, ambitions, and game design. Prey’s defining piece of fictional technology is called Looking Glass. It was always a game about games, and the ending is an ending about players.
Prey: Mooncrashis, by all accounts, incredible. I haven’t played enough of it to say anything interesting about it. Sorry. Johnliked it.
I think I wanted to write a eulogy for a studio that made games which represent the potential of contemporary game design better than almost any other. At their best, Arkane Austin’s games - such as Prey, but also those co-developed with Arkane Lyon - felt like AAA games from an alternate universe, one where it was decided that the medium’s advancement had nothing to do with with visual fidelity or whatever new tech Nvidia wants to convince us is necessary. A universe where all that money and tech and know-how went into making games wider, not sharper.
This isn’t that eulogy. It’s probably not even a love letter. Call it a Post-it note, stuck to a safe. A reminder, in case you needed it. The industry didn’t deserve Prey, but we got it anyway. Arkane Austin didn’t deserve to be closed, but it happened anyway. Thank you for the games. Thank you for the Gloo Cannon.
