Review: Borderlands (PS3/X360)

For all of Gearbox's promotion of hybridising the shooter and role-playing genres, that which makes Borderlands interesting or worth seeing through to the end is an attribute most commonly found in shooters: the pursuit of bigger, better guns. In contention between the two, the management and advancement of one's stats becomes quite frankly subordinate, not in terms of importance, but simply in terms of what the player thinks about when entering a new area.

Whenever the threshold is crossed into unknown territory, anticipating what it may yield in experience points barely idles in the periphery – ostracised, almost - as the hunt gets under way for a weapon which boasts a marginal increase in power. It is without a doubt the driving force of the game, framing every instance with an all-encompassing, perennial compulsion to search and exhaust every possibility.

Though categorised into subsets – handguns, snipers, SMGs, etc. - what makes one more appealing than another - and that which defines it as a 'different' weapon, irrespective of appearance - is derived from the break-down of its capabilities and assets. Each weapon has statistics regarding damage, accuracy and firing rate, and, when applicable, elemental type properties - and it's a reasonable balance between these that you're forever seeking. Naturally, especially during early stages of the game, one unusually high statistic generally means another will be cripplingly low, and so the search goes on.

Thankfully, as 2K has and continues to abundantly advertise, the planet of Pandora is saturated with weaponry, guaranteeing you're never more than an hour away from an upgrade, no matter how slight. They erupt from crates, vending machines, humans, and even fall from the most unlikely enemies – the storage of which prior to their death plays havoc with the imagination; exactly where does a pterodactyl type creature conceal a sniper rifle almost twice its length?

Skills for Kills

Anyway, each of the four playable classes is partial to a particular set of weapons, upgradable beyond the capacity of other classes by relevant branches of their respective skill trees. This small incentive to stay true to the design of each class seems transparent in its efforts to establish firmer divisions between them, something the 'Action Skills' fail to do as well. Though novel in concept and execution, neither one bar Roland's turret gun (which boasts a shield and can eventually heal and recharge the ammo of team mates) offers any distinctly desirable advantage from the start, and as a consequence are avoided as much as possible whenever a skill-point-bringing level-up is achieved after their initial – and mandatory - unlock.

This reliance on the action skills to define characters permeates the skill trees themselves, with several of the options augmenting the abilities. The problem is, the alterations aren't detached enough from the core gameplay, offering nothing truly inspired or original to warrant consistent usage of the individual attacks. For example, Lilith's 'Phasewalk' ability, which sees her turn invisible and increase her movement speed, with a shockwave marking the entrance and exit, can be upgraded to regenerate health within the mode - something a good shield, found far before the upgrade is available, will do all the time. Similarly, Mordecai's 'Bloodwing' (a launch-able bird attack) can be upgraded to give the player health depending on the damage done - something Transfusion grenades can do, and with much greater regularity.

It seems unusual to complain that most of the skill upgrades only offer different ways of dealing damage or gaining health, but it's valid when considering this is usually the part of the game where each player can mould their character into something special. Instead, it's filled with options that simply mimic the actions of exterior items. You can add corrosive damage to your melee attack if you really want to, but why would you when many weapons have the same property, and don't require close-quarters to become useful. Silly.

However – and this is a big however – it's difficult to find on-going fault with the skills upgrades from a gamer's perspective because, as was established in the first paragraph, this is primarily a shooter. In that respect, the skill trees, though still uninspired, compliment Borderland's genre by providing additional force and power on top of the weapons themselves. This all might sound suspiciously like contradiction, but what it's really about is defining the game; Borderlands may look like an FPS/RPG hybrid, but the ratios are far from equal, and thus raise questions about what the player might get out of it.

Mission the Point

The storyline and missions also perpetuate this imbalance by way of content and structure. Possibly the most tenuous narrative this decade, your reason for being on Pandora is purely in pursuit of a famed alien vault, allegedly containing “fantastic riches”, the path to which is unravelled by helping the people you encounter throughout the world. It certainly elicits opulent images, tying cohesively into the loot-heavy ethos of the entire game, but it pales in comparison to anything like Fallout 3's engaging story arc, pushing the boundaries of what one may consider role-playing. The missions – be them side or main – very rarely break the pattern of collection or killing, sending you around the map in armed buggies or, later in the game, with the use of teleportation points found at most outposts. As expansive as the world is, though, there's a linearity to the progression created by what's to gain – or lack thereof – in previously blanketed areas. Everything dies with one shot, giving minuscule XP; the loot they drop is practically useless – even for selling – and vending machines offer nothing even close to an upgrade. This essentially rules out the area for revisiting, setting out a clear path for the player.

Consequently, it's only the mission areas themselves that produce any worthwhile loot/experience, effectively reducing the play area to a fraction of its original size. However – here's another one - these focused arenas of combat are Borderlands' redeeming quality, packed so tightly with everything that makes a good action FPS – challenging enemies, big, loud guns, explosions and lots of circle-strafing – that you get lost in the wonderfully brutal, visceral chaos. Enemies aren't smart, either just steaming toward you or standing still and shooting, but they're often relentless, grinding down your Halo-style shield before decimating your health. Eventually you fall, giving the option for a 'Second Wind' if you can kill an enemy from your incapacitated state, none of which are around since you've retreated to recharge, and it's at this point that you realise something is missing – other players.

Redeeming Connection

The transformation Borderlands undergoes with the inclusion of other players is utterly remarkable. Instantly, as they join the game, automatically scaling up the difficulty, it becomes a powerhouse of thrilling competition and co-operation, everyone dashing to loot drops and fighting over weapons before teaming up to take down enemies in synchrony, reviving those who've taken fall. Everyone's comparing loot and abilities, boasting about a damage statistic, class mod or skill, and all of a sudden what made little impact during singleplayer is now the topic of fervent debate.

It's these experiences that counterbalance Borderlands' shortcomings. The singleplayer story's tenuousness becomes self-validating in its detachment, allowing the players in co-op to formulate their own adventures with each other. Your relationship with the other players makes you care greatly about your skills and upgrades because they help the team as a whole to push further into the world. As far as derivable enjoyment is concerned, there is no comparison between singleplayer and co-op. I almost feel like I should be writing reviews for each.

It's prudent to mention that both the PS3 and 360 versions of the game were tested for this review, and though both played out in the same way, mission-wise, marginal differences were apparent in the visuals. Overall, both consoles delivered the game's beautiful cel shaded aesthetic with proficiency, but drops in frames-per-second were noticeable across the board during particularly heavy particle effects. Other than that, the PS3's install seemed to improve texture loading time, which took up to five seconds on the 360. There's really very little difference, otherwise.

I firmly believe, as a shooter, Borderlands would be average without co-op, and abysmal as an RPG. What was lost in the apparent breeding of the two genres was a powerful story and diversity of gameplay, and so adding levels and stats doesn't quite cut it. In actuality, in spite of these congruities, all of its parts are tailored toward the shooter genre, so it's not an RPG at all really, it's just a multi-layered FPS, which, to be honest, is brilliant.