_{[Whenever possible, Destructoid critiques overlooked design aspects of games both old and recent for our "Revisited" series.]}

There exists in the gaming community a particularly virulent strain of anti-intellectualism that would assert, among other things, that Gears of War 2 "is just a game, bro." On the opposite of the spectrum is an equally uncharitable position: Gears of War 2 is nothing but a testosterone-fueled male power fantasy with no real merit.

Don't get me wrong: Gears of War 2 is definitely a game, bro, and one that I like very much. It spends too much time with clumsily-stitched-together set pieces and not enough time letting me take cover and shoot things (which is a testament to the quality of its core mechanic), but it's a definite narrative step up from the first one, and it's still the third-person multiplayer shooting experience par excellence.

But Gears of War 2 is also, I want to argue, a modern treatise on masculinity, agency, and anxiety, and perhaps strangely, a recasting of the Pinocchio story.

Seriously, just hear me out.

_{[Whenever possible, Destructoid critiques overlooked design aspects of games both old and recent for our "Revisited" series.]}

The end of a game, in an ideal world, is the apex of its presentation: one moment in which the narrative and gameplay come together, building on everything you've learned in the past eight-to-eighty hours in a satisfying and internally logical way. Unfortunately, given the fact that there isn't a huge stack of pancakes in front of me, I can safely deduce that this isn't an ideal world and that, ergo, games' endings have the chance of sucking eggs.

I don't want to be overly general and say that most game endings are bad (or good), but I do think that they're interesting points of departure to talk about game design or narrative structure. If an ending works, figuring how it works might provide insight into what makes each mechanic or plot device effective in its own right.

Conversely, if a game's ending falls flat on its face (like Prince of Persia's does), it usually serves as a decent lens through which to see where else the game falls short. Don't get me wrong: I really like Prince of Persia (a lot more than Anthony did, it seems), but I ain't like how it ended.

What I do like is that examining its ending—precisely what this Revisited aims to do—might lead to an insightful, or at least interesting, discussion about the game as a whole.

Whenever possible, Destructoid rediscovers and discusses an old game (or content) for our "Revisited" series.

A colossal asteroid punches through the inky black, hurtling towards a thriving human colony. Millions will be eviscerated by the impact, countless others by choking on their ashes. An entire planet will wither from the upcoming catastrophe, unless the first human Spectre decides to ignore an intergalactic threat and take on the task of stopping Asteroid X57’s deadly descent. This is the slippery slope of a hero.

“Bring Down the Sky” is the first and only downloadable content for Mass Effect. It was released on Xbox LIVE Marketplace on March 10, 2008.  Its story components read like fiction bred from a Hollywood scriptwriter. That may not have been the goal, but at least one BioWare technical director agrees with me.

“The story, to me, seems to have a very action movie-esque feel to it. Asteroid hurtling at a planet, the lives of millions on the edge, extremist terrorists, and a devastating moral choice: do you capture the terrorist, or save the lives of innocents,” Christina Norman asks. “We all know the traditional hero saves the lives of innocents, but in Mass Effect you don't have to be a traditional hero.”

Another layer. Asteroid X57 isn’t a cosmic freak, a space dart thrown blindly by the just hand of God. The rock is to become an orbital base for the colonists of Terra Nova. Before it can, a splinter group of batarians hijacks the rock and uses its goliath fusion thrusters to put the asteroid on a collision course.

This is a walkthrough with heavy developer commentary. Enjoy.

[Whenever possible, Destructoid critiques overlooked design aspects of games both old and recent for our "Revisited" series.]

Taken as a whole, Assassin's Creed garnered some very mixed reviews. Our own Anthony Burch praised the visual design as well as the free-running and combat mechanics but panned its repetitive gameplay and weak storyline. These are valid complaints and I can not at all disagree with the review.

Reflecting back on the game, however, reveals one aspect which Ubisoft Montreal absolutely nailed in their execution. This particular feature is one which I do not believe enough attention was brought to, despite it offering something that developers of all games could stand to learn from. It should not be subtle and, yet, manages to be such nonetheless.

If you will indulge me beyond the jump, let me tell you what Assassin's Creed has accomplished that few other games manage to tackle with the same level of grace.