![]() After a few turns, or an unstealthy blunder, the alarm ratchets up, introducing new layers of security on enemy electronics and additional patrols, or even broadcasting the location of the player’s agents. Many of these variables are ushered in by the alarm system, which begins ticking up from the first turn-even if the player remains undetected. Risk and reward are gauged, then a door opens, a new variable walks in, and they have to be gauged anew. Or maybe I burn a precious “rewind” chance to reset the turn and try a new permutation? The gambit might pay off, but it also might cause delays or unforeseen complications that cause me to miss out on a chance at the enemy’s vault, or even lose two agents instead of one. Or I might dive another character towards a nearby terminal and siphon some power, which can be used to turn a turret that will kill the guard. Even spotted, there’s a saving chance to hop to an immediately adjacent tile if it breaks line of sight. It might have been avoided, had I saved a single action point on my turn so my character could “peek” through a door prior to throwing it open. ![]() ![]() Take the previous hypothetical, with its exponentially increasing comedy of disasters. The resulting unpredictability buoys the game’s stealth, dissuading players from the rote memorization that’s always been anathema to the genre. ![]() Invisible, Inc.’s levels are procedurally generated, shuffling up hallways, security, objectives, and extraction points so that no two playthroughs are alike. The modular design does serve an end, however. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |