Heavy Rain is heavy.
People seem to be polarized about Heavy Rain. Some people talk like it's the second coming of Jeezus. Others don't "get" it, or come down strangely hard on it, like they've lost a bet on it at the dog track or something. I like to think I was about halfway in between the two before the game came out. Maybe leaning a little towards the Jeezus side. On one hand I was excited that someone was making a game that was so story-based and emotionally involving that the "game" aspect of it became almost (but not quite) vestigal. On the other... I was terrified that it was gonna suck and fail, and ruin the chances of any game of this type succeding ever again.
So, after playing through the game, what's the verdict?
If this had been the tenth time, or even the second or third time, a game like this had been released, I wouldn't say Heavy Rain was especially amazing or good. I would probably say about average. The writing sometimes feels thin. The voice acting ranges from excellent to not great (half the characters have weird European accents and sound stiff and awkward; most infamously, every character seems to have his or her own unique way of pronouncing the word "origami").
But Heavy Rain is the first. It's groundbreaking. No game has ever made me feel as sad or stressed as Heavy Rain. I mean that in a good way; it's not easy for a videogame to have an emotional impact on the player equal to that of, say, a very good movie or book. There are people, whom I won't hesitate to label "uncultured weeaboos", who say things like "What's the point of buying it and playing it, if I can just watch it on YouTube?" These people do not understand that the point of Heavy Rain is making decisions - specifically, making them quickly under pressure. You can watch YouTube videos all you want, but you'll never get the feel of the game without actually playing for yourself. When it wants to, Heavy Rain does a great job of making the player feel rushed, contorted, cornered, and anguished. During a relatively peaceful scene, the player is made to do mundane things like brushing the character's teeth or shaking a carton of juice. During the more tense scenes, the very same control scheme decides how the character describes a crime scene to the police or attempts to talk down a gun-wielding robber in a convenience store. When a character has to do something dangerous or complex, the control prompts are designed to give the player a sense of just how hectic and difficult the situation is for the character they are controlling. During one scene, I was made to play "controller Twister", straining my fingers as one of the characters tried to maneuver through a rat's nest of electrified cables without touching them. By contrast, one scene had me making very gentle back-and-forth movements of the analog stick in order to rock a baby to sleep.
I guess my biggest complaint (and compliment) for Heavy Rain is that it's a game that defies replay value. The game doesn't end or start over at the beginning of a level if one of the characters dies or makes a mistake. The outcome of the story just changes accordingly. But, once the player finishes the game and reveals all the secrets, he or she can never again play the game for the first time. There is only one time you can play through Heavy Rain "for keeps", and that is the one time when you are groping blindly in the dark, knowing only what you've pieced together, wondering what will happen next. You can go back and play old chapters, changing decisions and actions, to get different outcomes for the story. But never again will it feel as real or immersive.
My first play-through ended depressingly. During a scene near the end of the game, one of the main characters (controlled by me) failed to escape from a police SWAT team, and as a result the Origami Killer got away and the victim died. One of the supporting characters I was responsible for didn't even survive to the end of the game. During the epilogue, one of the main characters committed suicide. One went insane. One overdosed on drugs. I could go back and fix all these things, make it all better. I could do this, but I would always know that, when the chips were down, I screwed up. I could go back and catch the killer, free the victim, and live happily ever after, but it would be after the fact. The game gives the player one chance to figure everything out and do everything right, without knowing how the whole story is gonna turn out. It forgives some minor mistakes, but you can't recover from everything. And you know what? I feel bad that I fucked up. Instead of actually going back and changing everything, which I have the power to do, I find myself wishing I could. Up until this time, videogames have only ever caused me to feel emotions on an objective basis. The player knows that the character is happy or sad or excited, but the player still has his or her own emotions that are distinctly separate. The player may be excited and happy about finishing a particularly difficult level or puzzle, even if the character shows no emotion. The character may become angry or depressed about something, but the player perceives this as one would the emotions of a movie character; at most, a plot point. And that is what makes Heavy Rain so good: it gets you into the characters' heads, makes you want what they want, fear what they fear, regret what they regret. When was the last time a videogame ever made you actually regret something?
See... It's easy for a videogame to make the player happy. It's not unusual for a game to be frustrating. But Heavy Rain is the only game that has ever made me feel regret. In the end, that is what impressed me the most about it. In a lot of ways, it's not especially amazing. But it went in a direction no one had gone in before, and made me feel emotions I wasn't yet ready to be sure it was possible for a videogame to inspire.
I know it took a long time to make Heavy Rain. I'm glad you can't rush genius, because if you could everyone would be trying it. And then, where would we be?
"The Casting" (early Heavy Rain / PS3 tech demo, 2006)
So, after playing through the game, what's the verdict?
If this had been the tenth time, or even the second or third time, a game like this had been released, I wouldn't say Heavy Rain was especially amazing or good. I would probably say about average. The writing sometimes feels thin. The voice acting ranges from excellent to not great (half the characters have weird European accents and sound stiff and awkward; most infamously, every character seems to have his or her own unique way of pronouncing the word "origami").
But Heavy Rain is the first. It's groundbreaking. No game has ever made me feel as sad or stressed as Heavy Rain. I mean that in a good way; it's not easy for a videogame to have an emotional impact on the player equal to that of, say, a very good movie or book. There are people, whom I won't hesitate to label "uncultured weeaboos", who say things like "What's the point of buying it and playing it, if I can just watch it on YouTube?" These people do not understand that the point of Heavy Rain is making decisions - specifically, making them quickly under pressure. You can watch YouTube videos all you want, but you'll never get the feel of the game without actually playing for yourself. When it wants to, Heavy Rain does a great job of making the player feel rushed, contorted, cornered, and anguished. During a relatively peaceful scene, the player is made to do mundane things like brushing the character's teeth or shaking a carton of juice. During the more tense scenes, the very same control scheme decides how the character describes a crime scene to the police or attempts to talk down a gun-wielding robber in a convenience store. When a character has to do something dangerous or complex, the control prompts are designed to give the player a sense of just how hectic and difficult the situation is for the character they are controlling. During one scene, I was made to play "controller Twister", straining my fingers as one of the characters tried to maneuver through a rat's nest of electrified cables without touching them. By contrast, one scene had me making very gentle back-and-forth movements of the analog stick in order to rock a baby to sleep.
I guess my biggest complaint (and compliment) for Heavy Rain is that it's a game that defies replay value. The game doesn't end or start over at the beginning of a level if one of the characters dies or makes a mistake. The outcome of the story just changes accordingly. But, once the player finishes the game and reveals all the secrets, he or she can never again play the game for the first time. There is only one time you can play through Heavy Rain "for keeps", and that is the one time when you are groping blindly in the dark, knowing only what you've pieced together, wondering what will happen next. You can go back and play old chapters, changing decisions and actions, to get different outcomes for the story. But never again will it feel as real or immersive.
My first play-through ended depressingly. During a scene near the end of the game, one of the main characters (controlled by me) failed to escape from a police SWAT team, and as a result the Origami Killer got away and the victim died. One of the supporting characters I was responsible for didn't even survive to the end of the game. During the epilogue, one of the main characters committed suicide. One went insane. One overdosed on drugs. I could go back and fix all these things, make it all better. I could do this, but I would always know that, when the chips were down, I screwed up. I could go back and catch the killer, free the victim, and live happily ever after, but it would be after the fact. The game gives the player one chance to figure everything out and do everything right, without knowing how the whole story is gonna turn out. It forgives some minor mistakes, but you can't recover from everything. And you know what? I feel bad that I fucked up. Instead of actually going back and changing everything, which I have the power to do, I find myself wishing I could. Up until this time, videogames have only ever caused me to feel emotions on an objective basis. The player knows that the character is happy or sad or excited, but the player still has his or her own emotions that are distinctly separate. The player may be excited and happy about finishing a particularly difficult level or puzzle, even if the character shows no emotion. The character may become angry or depressed about something, but the player perceives this as one would the emotions of a movie character; at most, a plot point. And that is what makes Heavy Rain so good: it gets you into the characters' heads, makes you want what they want, fear what they fear, regret what they regret. When was the last time a videogame ever made you actually regret something?
See... It's easy for a videogame to make the player happy. It's not unusual for a game to be frustrating. But Heavy Rain is the only game that has ever made me feel regret. In the end, that is what impressed me the most about it. In a lot of ways, it's not especially amazing. But it went in a direction no one had gone in before, and made me feel emotions I wasn't yet ready to be sure it was possible for a videogame to inspire.
I know it took a long time to make Heavy Rain. I'm glad you can't rush genius, because if you could everyone would be trying it. And then, where would we be?
"The Casting" (early Heavy Rain / PS3 tech demo, 2006)