Let’s forget all the hype surrounding this title and crack on with the game itself before you become a mass of memes and assume it to be something it may not actually be. Firstly, a little ‘non-spoiler’ story peek. You play as Tommy, a disillusioned Cherokee garage mechanic, living on a reservation with his girlfriend Jen and his wise old grandfather. Tommy, however, would rather be anywhere else. Here’s the tricky part, and it involves not spoiling what is actually a really good videogame intro sequence; suffice to say Tommy and his loved ones get to leave the reservation in a most peculiar manner—and certainly one that will have your eyes agog. Yet, despite Prey’s initial ‘wow factor’, it’s a shame that, for numerous reasons, the same feeling doesn’t remain throughout the game—not least due to some dodgy characterisation.

Tommy is the game’s central hero but, in all honesty, he’s the sort of character that doesn’t really lend himself to the player in any sort of empathic manner. Despite Tommy’s terrible predicament, there are various points in the story where his reaction to events appears so utterly brutal or crass that, when it becomes time for you (the player) to connect, relate, and feel for Tommy, it’s unlikely you’ll care either way—which really does detract from what could have been an alarming and emotional journey for both Tommy and the player. Instead you’re stuck with a lead male protagonist who’s actually fairly annoying and so self obsessed that it removes from the apparent love story that should have been the emotional hook within the game’s framework.

If reviewing were about nothing more than graphics then Prey would undoubtedly deserve all the high scores and complimentary banter presently being tossed around glibly by the critics—because it certainly is a very nice looking game. It has some great environments, let down only by their largely linear nature and the claustrophobic way in which each has been designed. Given the enclosed environments, it’s understandable, to a degree, to have small levels, but the scope in Prey is somewhat stunted, particularly given the nature of the gravitational element used within the gameplay structure. For example, you can walk up walls to reach seemingly inaccessible areas, and also hit switches that will physically flip rooms, corridors, etc, upside down or on their sides; it’s a feat of immense possibility, so why does it all feel like it’s so utterly straightforward and spoon fed? At no point during the game will players become so stumped by the physics that they don’t know where to go, especially as it seems to be little more than corridor after corridor, even the game’s more open shuttle sequences run in a similarly linear manner. There’s no sprawling expanse to be explored, the environments generally consist of iris valves and shutters, corridors and walkways, and claustrophobic rooms and tiered hallways; even in the spiritual realm it’s a case of one cave leading to another. It’s all just such a shame in terms of scope. Add to this the addition of the Spirit Walk (where Tommy is able to loose his spirit in order to pass through obstacles and interact with elements inaccessible to his mortal self), and it once more becomes clear that the game world of Prey was truly there to be opened up and explored. However, things remain sadly deficient, even though the idea of being killed and then gathering tormented souls to recoup spiritual energy during the Death Walk was certainly a neat addition—and one that may well save some gamers much frustration.

Aurally, Prey is fairly well done, the music doesn’t detract, though there are few points when you get that cinematic thud that something like Halo can hit your ears with. Again, this is a shame, because you want it to offer that little bit extra, you’re almost begging the game’s musical component to perform that bit more, that obvious bit more. The soundtrack is by Jeremy Soule and it certainly does its job, though it is never really overtly noticeable or not, which isn’t a good thing when you can hum the Halo track without missing a beat. The voice acting is well done, apart from the flatness of Tommy and the idiosyncratic “Whaa! Whaa!” noises coming from Jen (the Cherokee warrior!), who, for all intents and purposes, is everything a proud warrior should not be, which leads nicely into…

The girl gamer aspect in Prey will make girl gamers cringe. Jen is the main female character, and she proudly describes herself as a proud Cherokee, proud of her roots and her ancestry, but essentially all she amounts to is a bland love interest and catalyst for the main character to strap on his macho pants. By contrast, Jen is merely the damsel in distress, and if you’re not sick of hearing her cry like a demented baby for he-man Tommy to come rescue her within an hour, then more fool you. Jen, like so many other aspects of this title is a lost opportunity, an opportunity to delve not only into the strong Cherokee spirituality, but also into the love her and Tommy are supposed to have for each other. At one point, about three quarters of the way through the game, the lack of emotional attachment to any of the game’s characters rises so high—not least due to Jen’s incessant wailing—it ruined the feel and this reviewer felt truly cheated on so many personal and gameplay levels. Suffice to say, Jen as a female lead is a weak, whiney character that should have been so much more. Other female characters include creepy children, the game’s nefarious main boss, and a rebel leader, but again, it’s all bland, bland, bland—at least aside from those dang ghostly kids, which were creepy, but then little kids giggling maniacally always are the right side of disturbingly entertaining.

Overall, Prey is a game that held considerable promise and should have emerged as something more than it is. It’s right there, you can almost taste it, but when you swallow, it’s but a pittance of what it could and should be. Given the game’s closing credit sequence and following gameplay snippet, it’s a safe bet to say that ‘next time’, the developers will try and hook into the empathy inherent in a good love story, rather than avoid it for the sake of weapon upgrades and some forced need to rush the story to conclusion. If empathy had been included in Prey, it would have been an awesome experience, because the gravity, portal, and general idea is really rather clever and well implemented, albeit it in confined and emotionless manner. As FPS titles go, Prey does bring something new to the genre, by way of its gravity switches, Spirit and Death Walk, and also its wall walking, but it fails to tug at the gamer’s heart and therefore fails on a more captivating and integral level. Prey isn’t bad, not at all, it’s just entertaining without inspiring a sense of being compelled to progress, which evokes a sense of missed opportunity considering the videogame that lurks, never to be found, just beneath the aesthetic. Ultimately the whole ‘what could have been’ aftertaste actually makes Prey a little less enjoyable. If only Tommy wasn’t such a spoilt thug and Jen such a whiney wuss, Prey could have been the emotional journey that would have pushed modern videogames into the realm of film.