Games With Grey

Deadly Premonition’s central narrative is a masterful achievement, dwelling upon impossibly bleak subject matter – in this precise instance, serial murder; the butcheries exercised on the various victims are displayed and discussed boldly; the game is unflinchingly mature. Many games are bleak – darkness is common. But with Deadly Premonition, darkness is uniquely tempered by levity and playfulness. In most scenarios, this levity’s existence and prioritization would result in a fragmented tone, a confused experience; the constant vacillation between dark / light, humorousness and humorlessness, prompts unpredictability, perhaps even frustration. Ultimately, such fragmentation is avoided, this avoidance itself a minor triumph; one cohesive vision is attained and maintained here. If the narrative’s characteristic darkness springs from the murders and the mysterious motives of the murderer, levity largely springs from the protagonist and player character, FBI special agent Francis York Morgan, who prefers to be addressed simply as Agent York, reflecting his casual, unassuming tone, a rejection of stiltedness. As protagonist, he is singularly endearing, displaying with fair frequency swelling depth. Here is a figure of ample patience and stolidity, even in the fiercest of hardships. Many individuals would collapse under the pressure weighing upon a federal agent. York does not collapse. Simultaneously, the commonplace individual would shudder at the horrific sights often presented York in his earlier cases outside of Greenvale, Washington – the game’s central environment – sights and barbarities the game mentions in passing. Recipient of implied hardship, his heart has long been steeled; his resolve has long been overflowing.  

Stolidity and protective detachment do not instantly equate to darkness or lessened empathy – indeed, York makes many empathetic displays. But his aloofness, when paired with his outsider status, alienates many of Greenvale’s various citizens, who regard him with ample weariness – the player must pacify and charm them, dismantle their weariness, objectives achieved in due time. So even with his desensitization, York shows a caring, fast-beating heart, and he anchors the narrative proper, executing repeated displays of humanity – human vulnerability, principally. Represented in his figure also is humankind’s predilection for love even in the face of disaster and destruction, love being sought to counter disaster and destruction. And disaster and destruction both reign supreme in Greenvale, acting upon York and player alike. In York’s perspective, Greenvale represents backwardness and perversion, specifically in relation to his more familiar environments, urban sprawls of relative sophistication if rampant violence. York is forced to grapple with a new identity and new problems after arriving at the quaint town, and this attempted reconciliation, warfare between the old and the new, is another source of York’s conflict. In search of answers and conflict’s cessation, York latches on to the female figure of greatest narrative prominence – Emily Wyatt, assistant to Greenvale’s sheriff, George Woodman. The romantic subplot is terribly cliched, but if York anchors the narrative, sweet Emily, oft likened to a goddess, further reinforces the already sturdy foundations. Herself an outsider, settling in Greenvale during her high school years, it is only natural she should gravitate to York, seeing in his presence many commonalities; their perception of Greenvale is influenced by their greater insight and worldliness, both of which are absent in much of Greenvale’s populace, those who have known the town and only the town, never venturing beyond its condensed borders.   

But the narrative is far larger than Agent York and Emily Wyatt – the cast of named characters is sprawling, and Deadly Premonition’s narrative is largely their narrative; they are prioritized just as York is prioritized. This irregular emphasis is another source of the game’s considerable originality. In most titles, NPCs are largely nonentities, many being unnamed, unvoiced, their character models subject to repetition, and frequently. Deadly Premonition ultimately and lovingly rejects this approach, instead lavishing considerable time upon these secondary characters’ development. The end result of this shifted emphasis is not only originality but also a strange sort of greatness. These NPCs are fully integrated into the narrative, in that each one of them can provide insight into Anna Graham’s murder, that calamitous occurrence being the impetus for Agent York’s voyage. Crime scenes will inevitably be visited and scrutinized as the narrative progresses, wherein York engages in protracted profiling scenarios, finding clues and then piecing together an end product from those scattered clues. But ultimately, interrogation and discourse become necessary, vital, and the player is encouraged to engage with these NPCs, for this engagement creates a fuller, richer portrait. With this twin focus – clue gathering and NPC interaction – a general investigative air is adopted, and the player largely pushes back against mystery, determined always to unveil the murder’s more mysterious attributes – who is the killer? Why does he don that striking, intimidating red rain coat? These questions fast take on added urgency, as the serial killer’s body count only escalates. York, stolid and patient as he is, cannot stave off subsequent murders, even while physically present in Greenvale. This fact necessarily inspires agitation and frustration within him – indeed, York oftentimes feels guilty for these murders. But again: the stakes are redoubled. But even with this increased urgency and intensity, the game’s open-ended structure again encourages player / NPC interaction, encourages detours and time away from the central narrative. Not all exchanges explicitly develop the narrative. Not all exchanges offer something new or poignant, or even an alternate perspective of the central narrative. But despite these avoidances, all NPC discourse serves a sharp world-building function; the discourse furthers overall believability.

Much of this believability stems from the NPC’s humanness, stems also from their considerable diversity – each NPC has sometimes-clashing interests and desires. Reflecting this diversity, besides murdered Anna, a prominent youth presence exists within Greenvale, though these youths’ depiction is rather unexpected and accordingly unconventional. Logic suggests youths would rebel against the closeminded smallness inherent to a tiny and isolated environment, for such smallness again suggests perverseness. Logic further suggests that the outside world’s allure would be intense and palpable for these youths; escape’s appeal expands. Instead, they generally occupy a contented state, rejecting rebelliousness and actually deriving considerable delight from Greenvale, backwards and detached though it is. Other characters show dejection, sorrow’s greatest source connected to Sally Graham, the deceased’s mother, who is understandably disconsolate. Also distressed is Olivia Cormack, joint owner with her husband of the A&G diner, where Anna was employed. Their mounting sorrow again solidifies Anna’s central role within the community, suggests how heavily each individual life is cherished and valued; Greenvale is a tight-knit community, one of empathy and emotion – and accordingly one of fascination for the outsider. Divisively, though, this groundedness does not completely predominate – bizarreness and levity have their place, even within NPC design. This bizarreness is readily observable in a minor NPC, Roaming Sigourney. As her name suggests, she travels about Greenvale, uttering always one phrase as she moves to and fro: “My pot is getting cold!” When encountered in this fashion, the player can ferry her over to her sprawling property, sustaining the pot’s heat. It is indeed a humorous portrayal, even as it becomes tired and tedious. More crucially, Sigourney’s presence illustrates the tonal division – darkness exists alongside light.

Whether a dark tone or a light one is prioritized at any given moment, Deadly Premonition’s writing is typically of a spectacular and engrossing sort. The literary is rejected, certainly – very human and believable language is employed – though this rejection is another source of originality. Given narrative structuring – cutscenes are lengthy and abundant – were the writing of poorer quality, the entire experience would collapse, become miserable. Ultimately, disaster is averted, and while the many cutscenes generally suffer from poor, relatively static choreography, cinematic attributes are still sought and sometimes obtained; the cutscenes are inexplicably masterful; technical limitations are transcended. Also, this writing is paired with endearing voice acting – consider Agent York. Were his voice acting tired or uninspired, player alienation is likely, in that his presence and cutscene participation are constancies both. But York’s voice acting could not be further detached from tiredness; York is fiercely inspired. As the narrative unfolds, he changes in direct response to the people around him, changes correspondent to the disastrous occurrences – murders – which similarly surround him. Narrative tone and progression is similarly dynamic, and while the narrative generally shows repeated unpredictability – in this precise instance a positive – the conclusion’s massive departures greatly tarnish narrative strengths. The bizarreness characterizing certain NPCs and much of the world-building is seized upon greatly in the final moments, this bizarreness’s adoption coming at the expense of the believable humanity emphasized elsewhere. Here, bodily disfigurations transpire, the twin antagonists – each partially responsible for Greenvale’s string of murders – adopting a more hulking and horrifying frame; they are otherworldly in nature and presentation.

Narratively, such otherworldliness was present from the first, as the player interacts with shades and other beastly, ethereal opponents, sometimes resilient and menacing, other times mere harmless nuisances. But in the final moments, a sharp overreliance on this beastliness exists, the shades fought in fair number. An excessively sentimental and accordingly unexpected concluding cutscene – a cutscene immediately preceded also by cutscenes, which in this precise instance serve as lazy exposition dump – does cleverly explain the relationship between Agent York and his boon companion, Zach; this explanation, even if sudden in emergence, is of course welcome, even as the boss fights, the toppling of the twin antagonists, is excessively fantastical. But even if the narrative goes astray, flounders for two or three highly linear hours, it is flawless for much of its existence. This compelling narrative largely benefits from excellently portrayed Agent York, a figure exposed to terrible hardship even in his youth; his father and mother died before his young eyes. Narrative strengths are bolstered further still by Emily Wyatt’s inclusion, though characters like the waifish and passive Thomas and the brash and villainous George Woodman, head of the Greenvale police department and thus superior to Emily and Thomas both, also serve to elevate the narrative. Essentially every named NPC serves a similar if somewhat minor function, and while some are designed around stereotype and pervasive obnoxiousness – consider again Roaming Sigourney – the excellent writing, transparent and earnest, staves off obnoxiousness, ensures that the player is not repelled by these characters but instead endeared to them.  

Deadly Premonition’s narrative, then, is easily its crowning achievement. But just as narrative soars, gameplay falters; much of the experience away from cutscenes is unenjoyable and forgettable. Crucially, though, much is unenjoyable – certain gameplay facets are immensely enjoyable and engrossing, the world building and exploration chief among them. As location, Greenvale is fiercely and totally unique, the panacea to much conventional open-world game design. So many genre titles transpire in dense, urban environments, featuring towering skyscrapers and other monumental structures, extending upwards to the heavens and communicating player smallness and insignificance. More ambitious titles – and those with lofty budgets – often complement urban locations with less tamed wildernesses – consider only Grand Theft Auto V, or its progenitor San Andreas. Greenvale rejects these approaches; skyscrapers are absent, and all world design was subservient to reality; Greenvale’s design revolves around one distinct and focused vision – portray a neglected American region as believably and respectfully as possible. Very few games possess similar aspirations, though instantly one thinks of Far Cry 5, which seized upon rural Montanna for inspiration, using that location to ground the narrative. And so it is here, the player presented only with periodic patches of density, specifically in the more populated areas or the areas which serve service functions – diners, bars, and the like. These more refined and inhabited regions are totally overshadowed by vast forests; towering trees occupy a prominent position; their presence is a constancy, and while the overall draw distance is poor – pop-in abounds – trees are visible always, communicating the decidedly Washington aesthetic. Still striving to capture and represent the land’s moody uniqueness, rain is commonplace, and when the waters descend from above, they frequently descend in a violent fashion, making a visible impact upon the struck object. Similarly, in some regions, towering blue mountains are visible, reflective of the region’s general intimacy with nature; venture even just a slight way from Greenvale’s quaint confines and total perverseness is easily reached.

Greenvale, then, is engaged in a struggle, civilization contending with untamed wildness. Ultimately, civilization wins the struggle. But reflecting a certain respectfulness, much vastness remains deliberately undisturbed. True, manifold highways cross and crisscross the landscape, connecting the disparate settlements and businesses, but generally Greenvale’s citizens seem attuned to nature, certainly in a manner Agent York is not – here is an additional instance of his outsider status. Greenvale, also, is singularly enjoyable to explore, principally owing to its immersive attributes; the game serves an almost transportive function. Many open-world games strive for similar aims, and many open-world games masterfully fulfill those aims. But in many genre titles, locations are prone to repetition in inspiration – countless titles have chosen New York or its individual boroughs as central explorable environment. No or very few titles have ever selected rural Washington as central environment – Deadly Premonition is accordingly endowed with uniqueness, just as its narrative prompts such uniqueness; world-building is excellent, the developers adopting an almost slice-of-life approach, developing the citizens, their struggles and sorrows. As collective, the NPCs move about believably, adhering to consistent schedules, and this behavior’s existence further communicates Greenvale’s dynamic nature, which is communicated further still not only by the variable and ever-changing weather, but also by a compelling day / night system. Greenvale’s fragmented layout also prompts total dependence upon vehicles, and while some might find driving tedious and laborious, the simple act of traversal only heightens immersion within the game world, which is heightened further still by an accessible first-person camera while in a vehicle. Driving, then, becomes central to the overall experience – walking is terribly inefficient. Related to this, though, a rather clever system sees implementation: a fast-travel feature is enabled after completing a certain side quest. The ability to leap about the map absolutely quickens the overall pacing, damages or even destroys outright any potential tedium, but the sparseness of the streets, the lonely forests, winding roads, and isolated homesteads – these objects collectively are central to the experience, meaning fast-travel would fragment and worsen the experience, in that exploration is in this scenario deemphasized; those selfsame forests would be neglected rather than frequented and appreciated. Still, this object’s appeal is understandable – the game is sometimes static, or is static relative to other open-world games. Any given player expecting constant emergent gameplay, approaching the title as if it were any other open-world game brimming with collectables and other superfluous and unneeded objects and objectives, included seemingly to provide dozens and dozens of hours to the dedicated player – these expectations are not met within Deadly Premonition, for better or worse. Better in the sense that world-design is unique, worse in the sense that it can be alienating for a considerable portion of the player base, impatient.

With the emphasis on exploration, a wealth of side content is present, too, this content fleshing out the game world and its various inhabitants, almost all of them subject to some hardship or other, subject to travails Agent York is uniquely qualified to vanquish. Reflecting further unconventionality, though, much of this content is missable, is easily missed; in its design and especially in its exploration, the title never holds the player’s hand, suggesting the developers respect the playerbase and make certain assumptions about their intelligence and their diligence – further departures are made, as many open-world titles demand little of the player, save time investment. In those titles, objective marks and similar aids are present and prominent. With this title, such objects are mostly absent. Deadly Premonition demands much, and while the map design is quite unintuitive and clunky, mastering its initially repelling minutia, mastering Greenvale’s complex and believable layout, is richly and singularly rewarding. Even minor locations like the Milk Barn convenience store and the A&G diner are painstakingly designed, that former location having appropriately subdivided aisles, while both locations feature unnamed background characters, whose presence is actually of fair import, fleshing out Greenvale, suggesting it is larger – even if not by much – then the handful of named NPCs. Attention to detail is immense, and with clever creative flourishes – see the dialogue exchanges between York and Zach on lengthier car rides, wherein the pair discuss older movies – exploration generally is enjoyable and engaging, even as it is mechanically uninvolved. Technically, Greenvale is antiquated, absolutely. But here, creativity triumphs over these failings.

The core gameplay pillar existing alongside exploration is this: open combat. Periodically throughout the narrative, York enters into a nightmare sequence of sorts, typically whenever venturing towards a crime scene. Foundationally, these sequences are predisposed to failure, in that they are all essentially identical aesthetically, no matter where they are entered from. This lazy design decision only results in repetition and accordingly tedium. Were environmental diversity present here, these sequences’ enjoyability would certainly see an escalation. Instead, the same tired corridors are navigated again and again, these environments being dreary in design, almost gothic. Greenvale is dreary and gothic, too, though in a compelling and unique light; rains and grey skies predominate, while in these nightmare sequences red tendrils and other strange objects forever assert their menacing presence. When combat does eventually erupt, control clunkiness is immediately made apparent, York being almost tank-like in his controls – his movement is rigid. This rigidness necessarily inspires frustration, though it can be adjusted to and compensated for somewhat – player skill of course increases as the narrative progresses.

As the plot unfolds, then, the player has access to greater skill sets, access to more flexibility. Viability in combat increases, too. Even still, even with this satisfying learning curve, each individual nightmare sequence was met with an audible groan, a thirsting for a return to narrative and more protracted and formalized cutscenes: these sequences are frustrating hurdles, completely outclassed. For all these intense, unflinching critiques, the developers clearly lavished some thought on these combat scenarios – they were not totally animated by laziness. Consider the overall arsenal of weaponry, which is quite exhaustive indeed. From the first, York carries a pistol, provided him by the bureau. As object, it features infinite ammunition, which cannot be said of other, commonly obtained firearms. In these earlier sequences, the damage output for this weapon is fairly high; its usage is viable. Supplementing the pistol are various melee weapons. While frequently powerful, closing the distance upon a shade increases player vulnerability; disadvantages over ranged weapons are immense. Simultaneously, each melee weapon has limited durability – after a predetermined number of blows, the weapon breaks, becomes unusable scrap. But these objects’ usefulness gradually drops off, their relevance lessening as greater access to firearms is achieved. In the course of the narrative, the player will be provided with certain weapons automatically – a shotgun will be dropped by an enemy which must be killed, for instance. Other times, dramatically powerful weapons are purchaseable by the game’s weapon vendor. The pacing of unlocks is perfect, and accessing a new weapon prompted ample excitement, in that it increases flexibility. Flexible or no, combat still shows great failure, shows also genre confusion. Deadly Premonition styles itself as a conventional survival horror experience, and while resource management is present to an extent, most frequently such concerns are minimized. Much minimization is attributable to ammunition’s easily accessible nature – ammo can be purchased at any suitcase system, the player interacting with the gunsmith Panda. Given this, the player can essentially fire guns with impunity; tactical considerations are then lessened dramatically, as is tension; failures abound. Medkits are less easily attained; while purchaseable from the freckled nurse Fiona at Greenvale’s central hospital, medkits will largely be attained through environmental exploration. Relative to ammunition, they are far scarcer, encouraging a more cautious approach. Even as player skill mounts as the narrative progresses, and even as newer, more powerful guns are obtained, combat sequences at the narrative’s opening are essentially identical to those at the close; flaws runs rampant here, and these combat sequences seem forcibly included, perhaps to adhere to expectation, to increase player appeal.      

Deadly Premonition is a fascinating experience, one with very high highs, very low lows. Any given player possesses variable tolerance levels; those with lower toleration for boredom or uninspired gameplay systems will likely be alienated by this title, its lack of gameplay robustness. And robustness is lacking, the simplistic and unintuitive combat sequences inspiring frustration and boredom rather than catharsis and adulation. Still, simplicity does not instantly equate to disastrousness – disastrousness is ultimately skirted, combat inoffensive though not met with crippling failure, insurmountable. But combat appears so disastrous specifically because it is inevitably regarded alongside design philosophies which are the diametric opposite of disaster – narrative, world-building, and exploration, all characterized by charm and complexity. Their consistent, undeviating excellence further illuminates combat failures; here is the warfare between high and low. Narrative and world-building both vie for that most coveted designation of greatest design element, but neither combatant is clearly victorious here, and both actually complement each other in the end. The narrative’s overall unpredictability is an asset, too, the feuding tones – darkness dominating one moment, gayness the next – preserving player engagement, which is additionally preserved by the spectacular writing.

But just as some players are alienated by the combat, presentation also serves an alienating function. Technically, Deadly Premonition is flawed, and for the player fixated with impressive graphics – or at least acclimated to graphics of the present moment, Xbox Series X/S and Playstation 5 now dominating the home console industry – it is conceivable they may never experience that fine writing, that swelling heart and abounding charm, unable to look beyond poor aesthetics. This is of course frustrating though simultaneously understandable; gazing at a screenshot with no context would be repelling indeed, the graphics poor even for 2010 standards, when the title was first released. As was the case upon launch, dull greyness predominates, as does dreariness; the skies may be blue and sunny periodically, though more frequently they are grey and overcast, the torrential rain accompanying those cloudy skies bolstering somberness. Even the normally verdant trees – existing in perfect abundance – are depicted with a more muted color palette; they are subdued rather than striking. Subdued or no, these trees, these forests, these highways – they all work together to establish a sense of place, which is indeed captured here – in its design, Greenvale meets with incalculable successes, successes which have not been matched. It would be inaccurate to state this one tiny town of long-declining population carries the entire experience – consider only Agent York, Emily Wyatt, and many other profound NPCs who make many vital contributions to the experience. Their involved characterizations were expertly wedded to a narrative of depth and darkness, wedded also to a game world of singular atmosphere, moodiness. The end result of this loving, tripartite marriage is profound, multi-faceted: Deadly Premonition evokes emotions and sensations rarely evoked elsewhere. For this uniqueness, for this affecting nature, the title must absolutely be championed; it may stumble in its unnecessary combat sequences and lackluster presentation, but these together are arguably the only objective flaws. These profound successes directly correlate to memorability, which exists in fair abundance. In many game narratives, forgetfulness abounds; the story is forgotten or nearly forgotten just as the credits roll or shortly thereafter. Deadly Premonition – its narrative specifically – rejects this approach, and with periodic displays of poignancy and depth, there is much to linger on; a message is communicated, though the developers, ever trusting of their playerbase, encourage that same playerbase to decipher the message themselves: ambiguity, wonderful ambiguity, thrives here, contributing to the game’s charm and its thematic complexity.