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Games

Thanks, ‘Prey’, for Not Making Easy Mode a Guilty Pleasure

Arkane’s reboot doesn’t lock anything behind higher-difficulty modes, and that’s a Very Good Thing.
All ‘Prey’ screenshots courtesy of Bethesda Softworks/Arkane Studios.

Some things you should know, if you're just beginning your own Prey adventure: Firstly, pick up all the junk, all the used cigars and burned-out circuits and wasted wire and banana skins—it doesn't seem so at first, but it's all useful, and gives you a genuine reason to poke around in the bins of the Talos I space station. Secondly, read, watch, and listen to everything—there's a pretty cool backstory to Prey, involving an alternative-history take on the mid-20 th century Space Race. Thirdly, don't worry that you're doing the combat wrong—it's that haphazardly headaches-causing for everyone.

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And on that last point: Do pop into the options and shift the difficulty down, if the Typhon aliens, all those Phantoms and Weavers and their deadly pals, are becoming too much. Because, mercifully, and brilliantly, the game doesn't punish the player for wanting a less-stressful ride—displayed proudly on one of its several loading screens is a message saying that the difficulty can be nudged, higher or (much more likely) lower "without consequence". No missed achievements or trophies. No locked-off powers or collectibles. It's The Same Game, just with its tendency to tear your head off all the time toned down.

To which I offer a heartfelt thank you to Prey's developers, Arkane Studios. One of my biggest bugbears with video games is their stigmatizing of players wanting to see a game through on its simpler setting as somehow lesser than the "regular" player, he or she who takes the game on "as intended".

Alan Wake, which I just recently restarted (albeit with little intention of finishing again) after Remedy's "Project 7" announcement, only gives you certain story-filling collectibles, novel pages, if tackled on the hardest mode. Ugh. Catherine, which I played again at the beginning of the year, locks a number of achievements behind normal mode and above—and that game's normal mode is a nightmare, believe me.

I'm showing my age here, but Sega's Streets of Rage 3 actually kept its final two levels from players until they attempted the entire game, from the start, on what was a punishing normal mode. "Finish" on easy and you'd be mocked by the (not actually) end boss for being a "beginner", before the game reset to the title screen.

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I stuck it out with Streets of Rage 3, boxing kangaroo and all—but a lot's changed in my life since I was a teenager in the 1990s. Nowadays, I simply do not have the time, usually (as handheld titles are another matter), to take on console games with concentrated dedication, in the sense of learning their every in and out, and raising my own capabilities to face the stiffest challenge. That's why games like the Dark Souls series are, sadly as I love reading about them, lost on me—work and family commitments outright prevent sustained periods of studied, meticulous, trial-and-error play, and, of course, I'm far from alone in being in this situation.

You'll probably have seen the facts and figures on "gamer" ages before. But to refresh you: The average age of a gaming enthusiast, switching on their console or computer of choice on the regular, is regularly cited as being in the early to mid 30s. The male and female split ranges from about even to 52/48, in favor of males, depending on territory and what survey you look at.

Now, for comparison and paralleling purposes, the average age of a first-time father in the UK is 33, and first-time mothers 30. The average age of a first-time house buyer in the UK is 30, going up to 32 for Londoners, based on 2016 statistics.

Easy, or easier modes, have long been a necessary guilty pleasure of mine. But playing that way is something you rarely admit to peers in the industry.

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Many of us take on significant responsibilities in our 30s, then—personally, since turning 30 [redacted] years ago, I've bought a house of my own (with invaluable assistance from relatives, it must be stressed), with all the mortgage, management and maintenance costs that comes with it, both in terms of time and money. I've had two children, and funnily enough, they're quite the demanding little distractions.

The effect on my gaming habits was instant, after the birth of our first son—the same amount of time wasn't there anymore. And so, slogging through games with durations of many hours, on the "as-intended" difficulty modes, and hitting countless brick walls that previously could have been forced through after a number of attempts, lost its appeal—I wanted to see the end of these things. To be a part of the conversation. Because I'd spent good money on them, good money that I have a lot less of to spare than this time ten years ago. Or else: what was the point in starting them in the first place?

Easy, or easier modes, then, have long been a necessary guilty pleasure of mine. But playing that way is something you rarely admit to peers in the industry. Did I try to beat Alien: Isolation on the recommended "hard" setting? Did I heck—after playing it at preview and getting munched my share of times, I selected "normal". I started Resident Evil 7 on easy—"doing it wrong", maybe, but I enjoyed exploring the Baker estate with slightly less risk of losing a limb (as gloriously gory as that leg break is—thanks, YouTube). Bayonetta 2 is, I'm told, at its very best when played with everything enemy amped up to murder-me-plenty strength, but after failing to defeat a multi-armed boss a bucket-load of times, I dialed its aggression down to a manageable menace.

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And having previewed Prey twice, pre-release, I already knew that its regular difficulty could be unforgiving. At that level, a trio of measly Mimics can be your undoing, if your wits let you down. We've talked about it between us at Waypoint—about how freakin' hard this game can be, in its early stages, when the "you", Morgan Yu, is very underpowered and uncertain of his or her direction. So, suiting up for a third time, in the comfort of my own home, I'm only pursuing one playthrough—easy all the way, baby, until those credits (hopefully) roll.

No piss-taking selection screen like Wolfenstein: The New Order, calling those opting for its easiest mode "spineless". No ridiculous chicken hat, or equivalent, to wear in order to better avoid detection by the black, gooey aliens roaming Talos I, actively advertising your "ineptitude". No cocky NPCs or pretend end-bosses mocking you for wanting to see everything a game has to offer, or as much as possible, with limited time on your side. Prey on easy is, again, the same game, just with the Phantoms a little less vicious, and Yu's resistance to damage tweaked distinctly upwards. Which is fortunate, given the combat's so clunky.

I know Prey's position isn't unique—but there was something about playing Arkane's previous stealth 'em up, Dishonored, and its sequel on an easy setting that just felt wrong, like you weren't getting the most out of it. Breezing through genuinely seemed like cheating (not that I finished the sequel—again, time). So for Prey, from the same studio, to actually encourage the player to make things easier for themselves feels pretty refreshing.

If I could, Prey, I promise I'd absolutely be treating the Typhon with the respect they deserve. At preview, I felt their force, and no mistake. But right now, being able to GLOO even the toughest nasty and wrench them into chunks of gloopy gunk, guilt free and confident of seeing whatever I want to, unrestricted, is a godsend for reaching the G.U.T.S. of the game. I thank you, and my realer-world commitments do, too.

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