Splinter Cell: Chaos Theory review

Who’d be a console designer, eh? Take the Xbox’s disc tray mechanism. It comes out, it goes in. Comes out. Goes in again. All with a quiet, satisfying purr and a cheeky wink of its toxic-green Open/Close halo. It’s brilliant, in its own understated way. Whoever Bill Gates employed to come up with it should, by rights, be feeling mighty pleased at a job well done - if not wallowing then at least dipping a toe into the waters of admiration flowing his (or, indeed, her) way.

Should. Because not only has all that hard work been stuffed into the fattest, ugliest paving slab-cum-games console you’ll ever see, the Splinter Cell series has also spawned a threequel and with it another reason not to appreciate that little marvel of industrial design. For once Chaos Theory goes in, it’ll be a while before it comes out again. No wonder Sony just stuck a cheap and cheerful pop-up door on its slimline PS2. It’s just not worth the heartache.

The game, then

Chaos Theory feels a true successor to Splinter Cell. Where Pandora Tomorrow bolted an impressive multiplayer on to what was essentially a stopgap, Chaos Theory gives the impression publisher Ubisoft has edged closer to what it really wanted the series to achieve from the outset. Full of considered refinements and neat touches, play is now much tighter and less sloppy than its forerunners.

Key to this fine-tuning is the ability to save whenever the player chooses – Splinter Cell’s paean to furious, frustrated reloading is no more. Worry not, though. You’ll still feel the reassuring tickle of cold sweat on your back, because all of the series’ trademark ambience is fully present and correct, and even thicker than before. Chaos Theory simply feels more lenient, more forgiving of experimentation – risks can be taken without fear of game-ending reprisal. Gone is staccato trial-and-error gameplay; in comes free flowing advancement. And down go replacement joypad costs.

Pleasure or pain?

Another aspect of Chaos Theory’s fluidity is evidenced in the newly altered mission structure, with a primary/secondary objective system reminiscent of Goldeneye. Sure, there’s still much explore-those-storage-areas-to-find-that-document-after-activating-a-pump-which-will-clear-the-water-blocking-your-passage style linearity, but to break it up a little there’s a bit of while-you’re-about-it-have-a-look-for-these-weapons-crates-if-you-want-but-don’t-pop-your-clogs-doing-it optional stuff.

The onus is on the player to put as much, or little, into the game as they choose which is now entirely feasible thanks to that quick-save feature. Masochists will be pleased to hear that every neutralised henchman, unlucky cleaner and completed objective is displayed in glorious Technicolor at the end of each mission as part of a rating, possibly to compensate for the game’s newfound laxity elsewhere. It could also be a cheap attempt to give the game a little replayability.

am, bam or stealthy Sam

That’s not to say Chaos Theory doesn’t treat its audience with respect. The training videos, which serve as schooling aids to wide-eyed newcomers and as a show case for Sam’s new moves to old hands, aren’t imposed (although they are slightly less effective than Splinter Cell’s opening level) – if we want to race into an enemy camp without fully understanding how things work and get shot to pieces as a result, we damn well can.

Chaos Theory, however, trusts us to know better than that. It also extends that trust to letting us have some say in how we tool up for a mission. With three options – assault, stealth and Redding’s recommendation – it certainly isn’t exhaustive, but having the emphasis on either gassing or blasting, or both, adds a little spice.

Stationary goalposts

That trust extends both ways, however, and Chaos Theory has had to work hard to win ours back. Splinter Cell was brilliant at presenting us with a series of slickly-presented set pieces, but its AI fairly stank at times. If the Grand Theft Auto series presented us with gaming’s sandbox, Splinter Cell made us play on a shiny, exciting looking but ultimately wobbly climbing frame. There was no excuse for guards forgetting they’d just had their cap taken off by one of Fisher’s sniper rounds after ten seconds, or for looking mildly confused after being shot square in the chest.

There was also the infamous cleaning lady, who seemed to follow Fisher around and arbitrarily sound the alarm even though every body had been hidden. Pandora Tomorrow did little to remedy this, except for introducing three stages of alertness. This time, thankfully, the developer seems to have got it about right.

Now, discarded spycams are noticed and lights which should be on but aren’t arouse suspicion. Even the slightest noise means thorough investigation (Fisher has a new noise meter to help counter this), often with flares and torches, and reinforcements are quick to be called upon.

Guards are so twitchy, in fact, that one begins to wonder exactly what it is they smoke in copious quantities at every opportunity. But the most important improvement here is that of consistency. Now there is some sense of order (but not predictability) to complement the wonderful, nerve-shredding set plays Chaos Theory trades on.

The benefits of cod liver oil

Tell you what – Sam Fisher looks good for a 50 year-old. He’s got some fancy new moves too. He’d learned to roly-poly in Pandora Tomorrow; now he can hang upside down and break a heavy’s neck with one guilty squeeze of the R-trigger.

Particularly useful is his ability to dispose of bodies over railings, and he’s also got that most cutting edge piece of covert warfare kit, the highly advanced…knife. Now those tricky tents pose no obstacle, and when a swift blow to the temple simply won’t do at close quarters, a gash to the gut will. All devastingly effective, and utterly titillating.

A tenuous concluding analogy

Yes, Chaos Theory is more of the same. The same jaw-dropping visuals (a given now); the same highly plausible story, aided by some fine voice-acting from Michael Ironside et al; the same rich atmosphere. It’s just – and how lazy does this sound – better.

Better because all of Splinter Cell’s original high standards are now housed within Chaos Theory’s more approachable gameplay. Its learning curve is fair instead of gleefully obstinate and that’s what marks this series’ major step forward.

Well look at that: over 1,000 words and no mention of a certain Japanese creep-‘em-up. Oh, go on then. Let’s just say that Sam Fisher is not so far removed from that Australian mentalist Steve Irwin. Where Irwin makes snakes look tame, Fisher continues to make Snake look lame.