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Sitting In The back of a truck as part of a convoy rolling into a North African seaside town, I’m mentally cataloguing the reasons I enjoyed the original Call Of Duty so much. To be honest, I’m struggling. Not because it wasn’t a fundamentally amazing game, but because it isn’t really like other games where you wistfully recall neat set-pieces and snatches of dialogue. Call of Duty boiled down to raw emotions: fear, adrenaline, tension, catharsis.
It’s hard to conjure these feelings up when you’re peacefully rolling through the desert. Two minutes later, I’m cowering behind an upended cart, gunfire perforating my eardrums, and watching my comrades being cut into pieces all around me.
And there I stay, I simply don’t want to move -despite my superiors screaming, “Flank! When I do move I’m killed without ceremony, and without compassion. So I sit back in my chair, and slowly mouth the words “Oh.
Oh yeah. And it all comes flooding back. One of the many triumphs of Call Of Duty silly traipsing around manor houses and dams aside was that everything felt real. Call of Duty 2 kicks this up more than a few notches. A farmhouse feels like a farmhouse, a beach feels like a beach, a battle raging through a town feels like a true degree panorama of hell.
Any other game would have a gaggle of Nazis mooching around at the end of a corridor -but here you can never tell where the boundaries of a map begin or end – you may as well be standing in real smouldering ruins in real locations. More than ever COD2 sees Infinity Ward throwing the veil of faux-non-linearity over their levels – with different pathways, realistic street networks and gameplay that refuses to be relentlessly forwardpushing – often backtracking or having you pinned down in specific areas.
It works wonderfully, and when I played through the fiendishly hard Pointe Du Hoc beach landing and cliff climbing level, I must have careered over it at least five times in markedly different ways before finally made it across – taking detours through bunkers, collapsing tunnels, gun emplacements, bomb holes, trenches and around ragdoll Germans doing backflips. Not daring to stick my ahead above ground level once, this game is merciless, and far more so than the last offering.
Adding to the increased feeling of realism is the Al. And don’t worry, this time I’m not going to launch into another F. This game ROxxors! Although, then again, there was a moment in the Russian campaign in which four Nazis did push forward down the opposite side of the street while I was otherwise occupied, unhurriedly chucking a grenade as they did so, at which point that was exactly what I said. The Al of COD2 propels it above and beyond its predecessor since it brings a real feeling of organic battle – the activity of friend and foe alike don’t need to be scripted anymore.
Away from the scampering down side-streets and the more intuitive ways that Allies use cover, this means that there are far fewer moments in which everyone stands around waiting for you to cross an invisible marker and even, miracle of miracles, enemies that get shot by a hand other than your own.
Many a time I found myself standing in the open without hope or cover, in front of a German with a raised gun – only to be saved at the last second by a blast from a friend hiding behind a nearby barrel.
This, however, works both ways. With more and more comrades tumbling around you the longer you leave a machine-gun post on the opposite side of a Libyan marketplace manned by the enemy, the more Call Of Duty intensity goes through the roof. When you tot in the restrained, yet still spectacular, ragdolls – even more so. While we’re on the Al though, I ought to highlight a slight concern that may hinder what I consider to be COD2’s unstoppable rise to greatness – the much vaunted battle chatter system.
In its more mundane parts, it works and works well -if a little over-reliant in the North African chapters on having Cockneys shouting stuff like “Die you dirty Jerry-rotter! But I digress. While fighting through a Russian city mission, itself a work of wonder, and attempting to reassemble a broken communications cable, my comrades were getting extremely twitchy.
Perhaps when playing through completed code I’ll start to learn the way the chatter relates to gameplay a bit more – maybe then it’ll convince me. But until then the jury is sitting in another room and eating sandwiches, paid for by you, the tax-payer.
But let’s have a poke around this Russian level I’m outlining, as it’s pretty special. The helpless feeling of being ill-equipped and, indeed, unarmed that COD nailed so hard in the opening Russian chapters certainly wasn’t on show in the level that I played -if anything, the game encourages you to swap between friendly and enemy weapons far more than either its progenitor or its pro-progenitor Medal of Honor: Allied Assault.
Then again, there’s more chaos and thereby more bullets needed to deal with it – at least in the chunk of warfare 1 played. At the start you’re doing stuff like creeping into what in pre-war would have been the basement of a gutted house, and looking up at three outcrops of what were once floors, each packed with Nazis. It becomes clear that Infinity Ward has taken its established melding of war-torn images and iconography with level design on a few more paces than its last tour of duty.
Moving on though, despite suffering heavy losses, myself being the culprit of an accidental friendly kill on more than one occasion, we pushed the enemy back far enough to restore the communications line – and the word was given to take sticky bombs and return to the scene of my earlier hiding-under-a-desk escapade, to deal with patrolling tanks that had cut in behind our advance. Crouching behind scenery, running, ducking and throwing smoke grenades to mask my progress, I made it back.
Sneaking up behind a big metal thing I’m not going to pretend I know what kind of tank it was – it was German and had guns on it , I attached my explosives to its tracks. And this is where it was hammered home to me, even more than my initial North African scrambles of shit-pantery, why I’m set to adore COD2.
Other games would lie content to say, “Wow. There goes the tank in a big explosion. Level over. Have a banana. And a medal. But that’s not enough for Infinity Ward. No, the tank is still just as dangerous as it ever was. Its tracks blown off, it still nigh-on pulverised me as I scampered from the scene, and while it was merrily spraying the desolate block of flats I took cover behind, it was only when I nudged myself very slightly around a comer that I saw two Allies sprinting up to it, leaping on top, wrenching open its lid Will, tanks don’t have lids – Ed and chucking a grenade in – the ensuing explosion killing one of the poor Ruskies as he ran away.
Scripted yes, genius also. It’s not just this, though. The levels of C0D2 that I played were permeated by wonderful little touches of profound texture that lie far deeper than its predecessor – women fighting for the Russian resistance, German commandants letting off feeble blasts with a pistol in their dying breaths, propaganda leeching out of Nazi loudspeakers.
Most notably, though, in the earlier stages of the D-Day level, I noticed that a victim of one of my grenades was a little pudgy around the edges – fat even.
Why was this Nazi overweight? Why did he have a beard? Because the year is , and the Nazis – experiencing heavy, heavy losses on the Eastern front – are conscripting anyone regardless of shape, experience or ability. And then I stood up, was hit by mortar fire fired from a faraway place, and collapsed in a pile next to him. And that’s pretty much why I love Call Of Duty 2. If The Size of a press junket is any indication of a publisher’s commitment to a game, then Activision must have high hopes indeed for Call Of Duty 2.
The publisher recently took PC ZONE on a three-day escapade in northern Poland, a no-expense-spared war-themed extravaganza that took in a bi-plane flight, jeep convoy, Nazi ambush in a forest and a stay at Eva Braun’s mansion in the Polish lake district.
COD2 promises fierce infantry warfare, pitched battles in muddy European towns, fields littered with dead cows and the finest war-based action available on the planet With each MOH or COD title, the intensity of the battles has increased, creeping ever closer to the benchmark set in the opening minutes of Saving Private Ryan. Call Of Duty 2 is no exception, ramping up the chaos with more smoke, more shouting, and bigger, somewhat free-roaming levels.
But alongside these improvements, COD2 introduces some other fundamental changes to the game mechanics. For a start, there’s the new health system. Gone are health gauges, medi-packs and magical water bottles, replaced with an unusual new recuperation concept. Basically, if you take a bullet or two you get some warning signals, such as a pounding heartbeat and red-tinged vision, letting you know you’re close to death.
Take another shot and you’ll likely cark it, but back off and your health will be restored. Grant Collier, president of Infinity Ward, explains. Now, you just pull back, catch your breath, yank some of those woodchips out of your face and get back into the action.
Less controversial is the scrapping of the solo missions. Previously, the British levels were based around Special Forces infiltrations to blow up dams and so on; now they’re full-on pitched battles like any other. On top of this, the Al has been completely rewritten to meet the demands of the free-roaming level design. Enemies and friends alike will now redeploy as a group, fall back if pressed, use cover intelligently and flank defended positions.
They’ll even try to flush you out of a hiding place with grenades, and have people waiting to shoot you as you leave – all very impressive stuff. Above all, however, it’s still Call of Duty. Whatever tinkering has been done, it feels exactly as it should – like a bigger, meaner, more exciting version of the original.
Don’t miss the exclusive review and demo next issue. Three Hours Into Call Of Duty 2 and the guns have fallen silent Smoke is billowing around me, I can barely see the muzzle of my own gun and I’m attempting to have a rest Crouching behind the shell of a Russian car, I’ve just chucked one of Call Of Duty ‘s new-found smoke grenades, with the sole intention of grabbing a few valuable seconds of inaction.
My eyes hurt, I’m too engrossed to tap the escape key and brew myself a cup of tea, yet somehow the war is going to have to wait. If I play any more then I’ll be more overwhelmed than is mentally healthy. Unfortunately, however, a less publicised fault of the Nazi regime proves to be impatience -and I soon find myself beaten into the car’s door panelling for my inability to keep up.
As expected, Call Of Duty 2 is relentless. And really rather good. Is it starting off with a bit of a handicap though? Has the saturation of our cherished gaming media with the pastel shades of the early s numbed us somewhat to whatever Russian, British and American goodness lies in Call Of Duty 2?
Y’see, we’re still not a million miles away from where we were last time round: beach landings, gun emplacements, helmets that fly off, Nazis firing off a few pistol rounds with their dying breaths, guns that go ping But how different do we really want it to be?
We’ve still got a powerful mix of breathless action, dynamic scripting and the whole A-Z gamut of human emotion: hope, fear, exhilaration and everything that lies in between.
The faces may be more craggy, the lighting may be more impressive, the smoke may be thicker and more billowy – blit in terms of that eternal COD feeling of hiding behind something solid and not really wanting to come out, we’ve barely moved on at all. And thank Christ for that. But of course, a lot has changed – some for the better and some for the worse. However, in order to examine just how far we’ve come and how in a few cases we’ve taken a few steps back , we’ll have to take off our rose-tinted spectacles for just a few minutes.
I know it hurts. Call Of Duty may have brought the Allied Assault template forward an infinite number of clicks, but it remained linear, scripted and packed with Allies who could only die at the whims of a level. Despite how great it all was, the essential ebbs and flows of real battle were missing – it was largely push, push, push, and the main surprises were provided by script rather than foe. It also had some solo missions in chateaus and dams that were complete turd.
So let’s take a look at a typical level that redresses this balance, the prestigious D-Day landing and the start of an American campaign that typically, my grandad would say kicks off quite a substantial way into the game proper.