![]() So you can ace the first stage with no damage, but maybe you've wasted most of your bullets. Each level is broken down into a series of stages, and your vitals carry over between these stages. There's the moment you're in, but then there's also the moment that follows. But really, more than it's about the odds, it's all about the time.Īctually, it's about time twice. I saw the different weapons, with their different per centage chances, the different hand-to-hand moves with the different amounts of damage they all do. At first, all I saw were the percentages that pop up when you pick an action: 90 per cent chance to hit with a shot, 100 per cent chance to stun with a thrown gun. Can you then get to him while he's stunned? Do you have enough focus to finish him off with a combat tackle? So maybe throw your gun? That will stun him and do some damage and it's quicker than getting off a shot, but then you won't have a gun. So you can shoot a guy, right, but the timeline shows that he's going to shoot you first. And this quickly becomes a lot of fun, because the timeline also shows you the timescale of everything your enemies are doing. As time only moves when you do, you can mess around planning things while you're standing still and the world stands still around you. The timeline shows you the cost in seconds of everything you're planning to do. And the more you play, the more you realise you're actually playing the timeline that runs along the top of the screen. Everything is sharpened by opportunity cost. It takes time to reload your gun or pick up someone else's once you're out of ammo. It takes time to switch stances so you can combat roll. It takes time to do a little labrador shake that regains focus. Bandages run out pretty quickly, and they also take time to apply. So just get in close and tackle them, then? Yes, nice plan, but that eats through your focus and there's also the chance that, if the enemy you're up against is armed, they might shoot you before you close the gap. You can shoot people, sure, but you probably want to hold onto your bullets when you can. The thing is, when the game starts to throw baddies around you, as you hex your way through compact environments, pushing back the fog of war with each step, you need to manage all that stuff. You also start with full health and decent focus, a meter that allows you to do stuff like instant takedowns and combat rolls. That's pretty Wickian, right? You start each top-down level with a gun and a couple of bandages. And that's when I realised that, whether or not it tied into my notion of what a John Wick game could be, Hex is pretty special in its own right. I sailed through the first level, and got thoroughly bogged down in the second. Hex, the calculating strategy puzzler, initially seemed a bit too thoughtful.īut then I got stuck. John Wick films are basically deadly musicals, aren't they? Choreography and footwork, with a brassy tune from The Man of La Mancha slapped over the trailer. They're about skating from one encounter to the next, about dancing between shivvings with your mind gloriously empty. The director calls the films reverse-first-person-shooters. We are never allowed inside the Wick headspace. Wick always feels much more flowing and wordless than that. Reacher's the planner, the strategist, brainying his way through encounters that add up to spatial, temporal puzzles, chess with a bit of kneecapping chucked in. Then I can take stock and reload.Īll well and good, but that's Jack Reacher rather than John Wick, I would argue. If I roll over to the far corner, I can probably tackle that one before she even sees me. Then I'll tackle that guy lurking behind the bar. Firstly, I'll shoot that guy coming through the door. This means that the game is perfect for creating that kind of interior monologue of brutality as you work through the order of your actions, time and space converging. Why not? Hex borrows from games like Superhot and All Walls Must Fall: time only moves when you do. Business as usual, but the whole thing didn't truly feel very Wickian. There's John Wick, right in the middle of the screen, blandly double-tapping away as an endless collection of what look like fancy waiters and up-market estate agents pile in on him. I was put off by the end-of-level replays that squish your brainteaser battles down to a few staccato seconds, with little in the way of cinematic zip. I was put off by the lankiness of the art style, where shoulders are quarterback broad and the arms and legs seem to travel for miles. I wasn't sure about John Wick Hex at first. Stylish cinematic super-violence is transformed into smart temporal puzzles.
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