Crysis 2 review

An alien dropship hums overhead, trailing otherworldly ruby-red fumes from its engines. The patrol craft spits shining metal pods at the earth as it passes. Embedded in the city street asphalt, the pods pop like pressurized eggs; three raptor-legged, inquisitive Ceph soldiers spring out.

They can’t see me, but I’m a mere 20 feet away, invisible, steel feet perched still atop a shipping crate. I’m holding the wrong gun for this—a microwave gun would’ve been ideal—but I don’t care. I love the way my SCARAB assault rifle’s laser sight attachment seems to wander organically, slightly out of sync with my movements, illuminating what I’m about to kill. I center it on the aliens’ weak spot: an exposed patch of pink-goo translucence where tendrils dangle—like Cthulhu’s tentacles—from their back.

As the aliens’ formation fans out, I seize the moment and fizzle out of stealth mode. Eight rounds ping the Ceph commander, but he doesn’t die. In two seconds, he’ll activate a shield that makes him four times harder to kill. I can’t take him down in time—I need to flee. I sprint-leap off the container and tap Q; the voice in my head murmurs “MAXIMUM ARMOR,” and I hear my suit’s skin go hyper-dense, just in time to absorb the fall damage. I backpedal into an alley—my armor can’t sponge the damage from another energy blast. I need to find cover, but turning to look in the direction I’m walking would cost a precious second that I don’t have.

I think my back is near a wall—I’ve got to trust that that’s true. I spend my last Nanosuit energy on a hail Mary blind leap, holding the spacebar as I mentally cross my fingers. I hear a robotic whoosh—like a high-tech trampoline. Twenty feet off the ground, my feet find a cobblestone ledge. I cloak and dart off. I’ve never felt more like Batman in a game—and that includes Batman games.

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