There is one basic and important thing to know about Spec Ops: The Line, and that's that it is at the same time a deeply satisfying and a deeply frustrating experience. Gameplay-wise, it's a fairly competent shooter marred by some very poor design decisions- checkpoints often come before cutscenes and are too far apart, which, combined with the surprisingly unforgiving difficulty (even on Normal you can find yourself gunned down in seconds) can be teeth-grindingly annoying. The range of guns you can pick up is unremarkable and there are nice secondary functions to a lot of them; you can carry three kinds of grenades; the cover mechanic is just flawed enough to be irritating but functions tolerably for the most part.

This is not a game about gameplay, however.

Were it to be judged purely on its design and mechanics, Spec Ops: The Line would be pretty forgettable, but it has an ace in the hole: a story so out of the blue in its direction and message that it's a miracle a major publisher put this game out at all. What you think you're getting- particularly if you only play the demo- is another gung-ho gun-wielding slice of Americans saving the day by killing all the brown people. What you actually get is a slow, spiralling descent into madness that wears its Heart of Darkness/Apocalypse Now inspirations proudly and uses them to forge a modern-day commentary on the type of video game you thought you were going to play. Captain Walker is no godly Call of Duty avatar who can murder a thousand people and walk away- he falls apart mentally, visually and audibly as the game continues, his professionalism is stripped away and raw ego left exposed. "Tango down" becomes a more chilling, "Kill is ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ confirmed" as the game confronts you with issues of culpability and responsibility. It's incredibly unsettling.

If you don't come away from Spec Ops: The Line with questions and doubts about shooters, I have serious concerns about whether you're dead inside. Do your best to ignore the sometimes-frustrating controls and systems and try and appreciate just how important this game is in the history of, and commentary on, shooters.

There is one basic and important thing to know about Spec Ops: The Line, and that's that it is at the same time a deeply satisfying and a deeply frustrating experience. Gameplay-wise, it's a fairly competent shooter marred by some very poor design decisions- checkpoints often come before cutscenes and are too far apart, which, combined with the surprisingly unforgiving difficulty (even on Normal you can find yourself gunned down in seconds) can be teeth-grindingly annoying. The range of guns you can pick up is unremarkable and there are nice secondary functions to a lot of them; you can carry three kinds of grenades; the cover mechanic is just flawed enough to be irritating but functions tolerably for the most part. This is not a game about gameplay, however. Were it to be judged purely on its design and mechanics, Spec Ops: The Line would be pretty forgettable, but it has an ace in the hole: a story so out of the blue in its direction and message that it's a miracle a major publisher put this game out at all. What you think you're getting- particularly if you only play the demo- is another gung-ho gun-wielding slice of Americans saving the day by killing all the brown people. What you [i]actually[/i] get is a slow, spiralling descent into madness that wears its Heart of Darkness/Apocalypse Now inspirations proudly and uses them to forge a modern-day commentary on the type of video game you thought you were going to play. Captain Walker is no godly Call of Duty avatar who can murder a thousand people and walk away- he falls apart mentally, visually and audibly as the game continues, his professionalism is stripped away and raw ego left exposed. "Tango down" becomes a more chilling, "Kill is fucking confirmed" as the game confronts you with issues of culpability and responsibility. It's incredibly unsettling. If you don't come away from Spec Ops: The Line with questions and doubts about shooters, I have serious concerns about whether you're dead inside. Do your best to ignore the sometimes-frustrating controls and systems and try and appreciate just how important this game is in the history of, and commentary on, shooters.