Having never been much of a PC or Mac gamer, I’ve come into Valve’s games far later than most. I experienced the original Half-Life second hand through my college roommate and only played through it myself last summer, on the PS2 of all things, in anticipation of the Orange Box’s fall release on consoles. When I finally did play through Half-Life 2 and its subsequent episodes, I was more than impressed. Valve’s reputation as peerless storytellers is more than deserved and despite being four years-old at this point, Half-Life 2 remains a high-water mark for game making free of the language and tools of film narrative. Writer Eric Wolpaw’s most impressive work in the Orange Box, however, is the widely lauded Portal, a perfect mix of Half-Life’s menace with the humor of his work on Psychonauts.
Up until last Sunday, I’d been waiting for a chance to race through Portal a second time for months. This wasn’t possible since my copy of the Orange Box had ended up in Korea. Damn roommates. Portal is a strange experience when you return to it. The shock and impact of antagonist GLaDOS’ quiet threats and the seamless integration of story and physical progress through the game’s space is lost, replaced by a comforting sense of familiarity. It remains funny but the tension is gone. The actual mechanical play is a different story altogether. Portal’s central mechanic of creating dimensional shortcuts on any surface lends itself to improvisation and creativity so there’s a natural impulse to try things differently. What struck me during my return visit was not just how flexible the game is but how inflexible I am as a player. Even when given the tools, I rarely push a game's boundaries. I can’t stop myself from taking the fastest, most efficient route. By the time I was hearing the inescapable catchy chords of “Still Alive” at the game’s conclusion, I was starting to wonder if there’s something I’m missing whenever I play through a game. Am I satisfied with the presented sense of adventure and discovery? Is the empowerment of success enough to keep me from finding different ways to succeed? Am I playing the game or am I allowing it to play me?
I didn’t come up with an answer and one week later there still isn’t one readily apparent. However, I’m now hungry for the open world of Bethesda’s upcoming Fallout 3. Maybe this time, I’ll be able to find a way to play differently. Here’s hoping.