If Booker’s story is a parable about violence, what could be more appropriate than violent gameplay? Personally, I think the entire argument is less about Infinite itself and rather about what video games “should be.” BioShock Infinite is a transitional sort of game, the missing link between ye olde shoot-and-loots and the new breed of artsy, thinky exploration games ( Gone Home being the prime example - especially since it was made by former BioShock devs). The second camp counters that the violence meshes quite well with the narrative. They point out the game’s breathtaking introduction - twenty minutes of little more than walking - and say that the story would’ve resonated more if it’d stuck with gameplay along those lines. The first argues that the heavy social themes in Infinite would’ve been far better served without slamming sky-hooks into people’s faces. Let me back up: one of the biggest points of debate surrounding Infinite (and oh, there are many) is whether or not its intense violence detracts from its story. Episode 2, on the other hand, delivers five to six well-paced hours of madness and mystery. Episode 1 clocks in at a scant ninety minutes, with a rushed, baffling conclusion (I’m very glad I played both parts together). The moment I, as Booker, unleashed fire from my smoldering left hand, I thought, god, I’ve missed this. I was not disappointed.Īnd the combat…ah, the combat. I paused at every window, craned my neck at every ceiling, upturned every desk in search of hidden treasure. You know it’s all an illusion, but you can’t help but marvel at how well the seams are hidden. This is the odd thing about these games - the worlds they create are filled with such ugliness and cruelty, and yet exploring them is an utter joy. Going back to Rapture - stunning, shiny, 1958 Rapture, with cocktails and coral and whales coasting by - felt like coming home. If that conceit is the cost of admission, then it’s one I’ll swallow, because Burial At Sea was the most fun I’ve had with a game in months. Elizabeth is Elizabeth, Columbia happened, and the Luteces are still goofing their way through spacetime. It was like being handed a beautifully wrapped present - curled ribbons and all - only to discover that the bottom of the box had been cut out.īut fine. Neither possibility sat well with me, especially when the rest of the story went to such pains to wrap up every other loose end. It left me wondering whether I’d missed something crucial, or if the writers had just glossed it over.
For all the questions that Burial At Sea answered, this was never addressed, and it drove me nuts. Booker stayed Booker, Columbia never happened, Rosalind Lutece never met her “brother,” and Elizabeth remained Anna, asleep in her crib. My interpretation of Infinite’s ending (and the after-credits scene) was that by killing Booker in the moment that he became Comstock, the events of the game were undone entirely. This isn’t an alternate Elizabeth we’re talking about, but end-game, knows-all-sees-all, full-knowledge-of- Infinite Elizabeth. What I don’t understand is why Elizabeth exists. I’m fine with their reasons for being there, too (Elizabeth in particular, which I’ll get to). I’m fine with Booker and Elizabeth being in Rapture. That’s explained thoroughly, with varying degrees of sense.
The twist - aside from the obvious fact that we’re in Rapture now - is that in the second episode, you play as Elizabeth.įirst, though, I’ve got to air out my primary problem with Burial At Sea: What the hell are these people doing here? I don’t mean in Rapture. Told in two episodes (which I played back-to-back), Burial At Sea centers on Booker and Elizabeth’s search for a young girl named Sally.
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