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#18: Max Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne
(Remedy Entertainment - PC, 2003)
"I was compelled to give Vlad his gun back. One bullet at a time."
Max Payne, dearest of all my third-person shooters, is one of the most memorable series of games around for countless reasons. There's a lot about the series you could potentially point to as the definitive Max Payne "thing," as almost every aspect of the game sticks with you, whether it's the endlessly quotable scripts, the stylish comic book cutscenes, the fake TV shows (a Remedy staple), or the insane Bullet Time-laden gameplay. Everything is a vital piece of the puzzle, and you can look no further than the uneven Max Payne 3 for proof of how important that balance is. That being said, there is one element that takes these games from great to some of the best ever made.
Let's be honest with ourselves for a moment. Video games are very likely the trashiest media out there. There have been some significant steps forward within the past decade or so, but despite its potential for unique narratives, gaming has a long way to go before its storytelling reaches the (relatively) consistent quality seen in film, television, or music. Maybe it's because developers feel that they have something to prove, but even the most earnest and focused of attempts to make a video game story you could consider profound often instead come across as either unwittingly pulpy laughingstocks or these overwrought tales that can easily fall apart the moment the player is given any control. The Max Payne series doesn't offer any real long-term solutions to this, but these pitfalls that are oh so common in many games are turned into assets thanks to one thing: the incomparable noir aesthetic.
Take the series' characterization, for example. When you really think about it, it isn't too different from most other games. Max himself could be mistaken for a standard "edgy" sad sack video game protagonist, his inner monologue sardonically quipping its way through the gameplay sequences and ruminating during cutscenes. The dialogue itself is excellent, but in any other game it would probably be just a little too overbearing. Here, the noir framing makes the dialogue work, fitting the style perfectly and winning the player over with clever lines delivered by a suitably deadpan James McCaffery, engrossing them in what would otherwise be a fairly standard story of a loose cannon cop with nothing to lose. So much of the game's story is rife with tropes you've seen plenty of times, but even so, the aesthetic makes it all stand out. The art of the graphic novel cutscenes (especially in the Fall of Max Payne) and the outstanding voice work make it impossible not to get invested in the story as you play.
One of the biggest issues that I believe plagues video game stories is player agency. So many games try to put on as straight a face as possible while the player is free to shit on whatever atmosphere the game's working to establish. There's a big moment in Borderlands 2 where the game's central settlement comes under attack by the villains (in the form of a satellite raining down explosions on the town), and there's an attempt to evoke a sense of urgency as the screen is rattled by each explosion and the townsfolk are panicking and running for cover. As much as it tries to do this, however, it can be rendered entirely inert by the player, since there isn't actually any urgency at all: you can choose to completely abandon the town in that moment, do side missions or level up and return to the town, still being devastated, whenever you see fit. It's outright comical, but unfortunately far from the only example of this that comes to mind.
Max Payne doesn't eliminate this aspect entirely, but instead has an acute awareness of it, playfully tying it to Max's inner monologue in a way that falls right in line with noir's characteristic fixation on narration. As you play each game, you'll find that Max will often comment after the player does things that aren't exactly crucial to the moment-to-moment gameplay or the story. Each game in the series has this manifest in different ways ("Karaoke never was my thing," Max remarks as the player interacts with a stage microphone in the first game), but it's a welcome constant, seen even in Rockstar's take on the series. It's not this huge, revelatory mechanic, but it addresses one of my biggest qualms about storytelling in games and makes the player's tendency to dick around a part of things, all in a way that strengthens the series' connection to film noir.
It's not all aesthetic with Max Payne, though. The Fall of Max Payne wouldn't be anywhere near as high on this list if it wasn't one of the most entertaining shooters to actually play. The entire series just goes for it, wearing its inspirations on its sleeve and featuring gameplay as frenetic as the movies that Remedy watched during development. Bullet Time is outright licensed from Warner Bros. (check the credits), so most of your time with these games is spent diving out of cover and dumping bullets into mafioso skulls in slow motion. It's not just an empty thrill or a bullet point cynically slapped on the feature list, though: it's damn well needed since the entire series is constantly challenging the player, incorporating classic PC shooter design (with painkillers standing in for medkits) to ruthless effect. Max Payne tests your reflexes on even the lowest difficulties, leading to gameplay that's equal parts taxing and exhilarating.
So far, everything I've said can apply to the series as a whole, but only one Max Payne game is on this list. All three games are great and well worth playing, but Max Payne 2 is the real standout. The original game comes close, but the story gets a little off the rails at times to support its allegories to Norse mythology, and is bogged down by gameplay sequences that slow the pace to a crawl (among these: a sniping setpiece that overstays its welcome and an obtuse dream sequence replete with uncalled-for platforming). Max Payne 3 is one of the best third-person shooters of the last generation, but the game's finest moments are relegated to being flashes of brilliance thanks to the overly intrusive storytelling, abandoning the graphic novel style of the previous games in favor of more traditional (and more frequent) cutscenes. Max Payne 2, on the other hand, has a consistency to its gameplay that the others in the series lack, while also featuring some of my favorite dialogue and art in all of video games.
Calling a game "cinematic" is often a death knell for a guy like me. I've been burned far too many times by games that just can't find the balance of gameplay, storytelling, and aesthetic to treat the term as a compliment. So many developers out there seem to make games that feel like you're watching a movie, but nobody really finds success in making a game that feels like you're playing one. Max Payne 2 not only accomplishes this with an aesthetic that is complemented by things that normally make a cinematic game fall to pieces, but it's also a God damn amazing shooter with unforgettable moments at each turn.
(Remedy Entertainment - PC, 2003)
"I was compelled to give Vlad his gun back. One bullet at a time."
Max Payne, dearest of all my third-person shooters, is one of the most memorable series of games around for countless reasons. There's a lot about the series you could potentially point to as the definitive Max Payne "thing," as almost every aspect of the game sticks with you, whether it's the endlessly quotable scripts, the stylish comic book cutscenes, the fake TV shows (a Remedy staple), or the insane Bullet Time-laden gameplay. Everything is a vital piece of the puzzle, and you can look no further than the uneven Max Payne 3 for proof of how important that balance is. That being said, there is one element that takes these games from great to some of the best ever made.
Let's be honest with ourselves for a moment. Video games are very likely the trashiest media out there. There have been some significant steps forward within the past decade or so, but despite its potential for unique narratives, gaming has a long way to go before its storytelling reaches the (relatively) consistent quality seen in film, television, or music. Maybe it's because developers feel that they have something to prove, but even the most earnest and focused of attempts to make a video game story you could consider profound often instead come across as either unwittingly pulpy laughingstocks or these overwrought tales that can easily fall apart the moment the player is given any control. The Max Payne series doesn't offer any real long-term solutions to this, but these pitfalls that are oh so common in many games are turned into assets thanks to one thing: the incomparable noir aesthetic.
Take the series' characterization, for example. When you really think about it, it isn't too different from most other games. Max himself could be mistaken for a standard "edgy" sad sack video game protagonist, his inner monologue sardonically quipping its way through the gameplay sequences and ruminating during cutscenes. The dialogue itself is excellent, but in any other game it would probably be just a little too overbearing. Here, the noir framing makes the dialogue work, fitting the style perfectly and winning the player over with clever lines delivered by a suitably deadpan James McCaffery, engrossing them in what would otherwise be a fairly standard story of a loose cannon cop with nothing to lose. So much of the game's story is rife with tropes you've seen plenty of times, but even so, the aesthetic makes it all stand out. The art of the graphic novel cutscenes (especially in the Fall of Max Payne) and the outstanding voice work make it impossible not to get invested in the story as you play.
One of the biggest issues that I believe plagues video game stories is player agency. So many games try to put on as straight a face as possible while the player is free to shit on whatever atmosphere the game's working to establish. There's a big moment in Borderlands 2 where the game's central settlement comes under attack by the villains (in the form of a satellite raining down explosions on the town), and there's an attempt to evoke a sense of urgency as the screen is rattled by each explosion and the townsfolk are panicking and running for cover. As much as it tries to do this, however, it can be rendered entirely inert by the player, since there isn't actually any urgency at all: you can choose to completely abandon the town in that moment, do side missions or level up and return to the town, still being devastated, whenever you see fit. It's outright comical, but unfortunately far from the only example of this that comes to mind.
Max Payne doesn't eliminate this aspect entirely, but instead has an acute awareness of it, playfully tying it to Max's inner monologue in a way that falls right in line with noir's characteristic fixation on narration. As you play each game, you'll find that Max will often comment after the player does things that aren't exactly crucial to the moment-to-moment gameplay or the story. Each game in the series has this manifest in different ways ("Karaoke never was my thing," Max remarks as the player interacts with a stage microphone in the first game), but it's a welcome constant, seen even in Rockstar's take on the series. It's not this huge, revelatory mechanic, but it addresses one of my biggest qualms about storytelling in games and makes the player's tendency to dick around a part of things, all in a way that strengthens the series' connection to film noir.
It's not all aesthetic with Max Payne, though. The Fall of Max Payne wouldn't be anywhere near as high on this list if it wasn't one of the most entertaining shooters to actually play. The entire series just goes for it, wearing its inspirations on its sleeve and featuring gameplay as frenetic as the movies that Remedy watched during development. Bullet Time is outright licensed from Warner Bros. (check the credits), so most of your time with these games is spent diving out of cover and dumping bullets into mafioso skulls in slow motion. It's not just an empty thrill or a bullet point cynically slapped on the feature list, though: it's damn well needed since the entire series is constantly challenging the player, incorporating classic PC shooter design (with painkillers standing in for medkits) to ruthless effect. Max Payne tests your reflexes on even the lowest difficulties, leading to gameplay that's equal parts taxing and exhilarating.
So far, everything I've said can apply to the series as a whole, but only one Max Payne game is on this list. All three games are great and well worth playing, but Max Payne 2 is the real standout. The original game comes close, but the story gets a little off the rails at times to support its allegories to Norse mythology, and is bogged down by gameplay sequences that slow the pace to a crawl (among these: a sniping setpiece that overstays its welcome and an obtuse dream sequence replete with uncalled-for platforming). Max Payne 3 is one of the best third-person shooters of the last generation, but the game's finest moments are relegated to being flashes of brilliance thanks to the overly intrusive storytelling, abandoning the graphic novel style of the previous games in favor of more traditional (and more frequent) cutscenes. Max Payne 2, on the other hand, has a consistency to its gameplay that the others in the series lack, while also featuring some of my favorite dialogue and art in all of video games.
Calling a game "cinematic" is often a death knell for a guy like me. I've been burned far too many times by games that just can't find the balance of gameplay, storytelling, and aesthetic to treat the term as a compliment. So many developers out there seem to make games that feel like you're watching a movie, but nobody really finds success in making a game that feels like you're playing one. Max Payne 2 not only accomplishes this with an aesthetic that is complemented by things that normally make a cinematic game fall to pieces, but it's also a God damn amazing shooter with unforgettable moments at each turn.
