Alan Wake 2 fucking rules.
general details follow, but no plot specifics
While much of the double-A and larger videogame industry chases endless methods of player retention, or continues on a tired march towards ever-more-standardized replications of Hollywood blockbuster films, Finnish developer Remedy has remained content for over two decades to chase their own ambitions and inspirations. They’re known for sending players down rabbit holes full of strange and evocative imagery, off-kilter modes of storytelling, and wry protagonists in constant, self-aware dialogue with themselves.
They can’t all be hits. Yet even with 2016’s Quantum Break — considered by many to be the studio’s biggest misstep — Remedy chased and achieved their goal in pushing the boundaries of cross-media storytelling. Between each level of the game sat full-length, live action episodes whose outcomes could be manipulated by the player’s choices during gameplay. It was a bold creative choice, and remains a novelty in the medium to this day.
That fixation on melding interactive and passive media is a signature flourish of the studio. From the photos-turned-comic-panels that depicted the plot of 2001’s Max Payne to the live action episodes of in-universe The Twilight Zone copycat Night Springs in 2010’s Alan Wake, Remedy has refined its techniques over time, presenting those elements with more finesse and confidence as each game came to pass. 2019’s Control really went all out — combining the more established elements with trippy video overlays both atop and within the game as you played.
Remedy’s games also feel written and directed in a more traditional sense, rather than pieced together by countless people across years of development. Careful framing of both in-game cutscenes and live action sequences; thoughtfully-chosen needle drops to set a certain mood or sense of empowerment within the player. There’s a level of thematic consistency and intent within their games that you just don’t find very often in larger-budget releases, and it’s a testament to their conviction that the studio has found so much success in concepts and methods of storytelling that can be out of step — or even at odds — with the industry around them.
Alan Wake 2 is no exception to any of this. It is weird, it is dense, it is often both terrifying and hilarious within the same sequence of events. It is derivative in certain ways, yet contains smart touches that give it a feeling all its own within the survival horror genre. It’s also an uncompromising celebration of Remedy’s lineage as a development house; the very best of Control’s mundane-meets-absurd eccentricities, melded with the original Alan Wake’s spooky treks through endless dark forests and Max Payne’s self-serious, hard-boiled crime drama sensibilities. It is boldly self-aware and self-referential in delightful and rewarding ways, and it is one of the very best videogames I have ever played.
Where to start, then, but the beginning?
After a moody prologue, the game’s plot splits between Alan Wake and the new second protagonist Saga Anderson. Remarkably, these two story threads can be experienced entirely at the player’s discretion; you can play them both back-to-back like a pair of films, or hop between them like I did to lend the game a more serialized flavor. That freedom is especially useful in context with the game’s lengthy runtime, as it affords the player a change of scenery and tone whenever one begins to overstay itself.
In Saga’s chapters, Remedy has replicated the sense of being lost in the woods to a stunning degree. Twisting paths may only reveal their branches from certain angles, and there’s a persistent Northwestern dampness to the environments that you can practically feel as you wander through them. Her chapters are a bit of a throwback to the first game, featuring encounters with small-town folk who seem a little off somehow, and plenty of recently-abandoned and too-quiet spaces — all while being stalked by darkness-possessed foes who pop out for infrequent encounters.
Meanwhile, Alan contends with a very Remedy twist on the traditional videogame fodder enemy. Populating the streets and subways of his dense slice of an out-of-time New York City are ghostly apparitions, always standing and waiting; faceless, muttering threats and confessions to themselves. Nine times out of ten, these enemies simply fade away when Alan gets closer or points his flashlight towards them. Once in a while though, they come to life and begin marching towards you; demanding that you boost your flashlight to reveal the enemy cloaked in shadows before damaging it.
Both approaches establish a sense of base-level unease without ever becoming overbearing or tedious. Remedy has, in line with the shift in genre from spooky action to proper survival horror, cut back on the number of enemies you face while making each one far more dangerous in turn. The dread of getting lost or cornered, fearing the forfeiture of progress upon death without playing perfectly until the next save point — a hallmark of the genre — is alive and well here. Fights feel frantic and tense, and bosses never overstay their welcome. Thankfully, Remedy seems to have learned their lesson from Control’s overcrowded arenas and often absurd health pools.
In all, Alan Wake 2 plays beautifully. It takes the core of the modern Resident Evil remakes, and uses it as a stepping-off point for all the weird, wonderful shit that Remedy is known for. Remember Control’s beloved Ashtray Maze? Alan Wake 2 has moments that stand alongside it as some of the most thrilling sequences I’ve ever played in a game.
This is Remedy firing on all cylinders. It gets strange, it gets dark, it gets funny. It gets fucking rock opera.
Longtime collaborators Poets of the Fall (as in-universe rock band Old Gods of Asgard) make a glorious return, scoring some of the most bombastic and theatrical moments the game has to offer. Remedy’s typical use of licensed music has also seen an overhaul. Wholly original tracks made in collaboration with a range of artists fill out the hard cuts between chapters; thematic and catchy indie rock and pop songs that off-gas tension beautifully.
There’s a sense of genuine, passionate creativity here, one that stretches across mediums in a glorious mashup of games, film, music, and literature. There are layers upon layers of intent and self-reflection for the characters, the worlds they inhabit, and Remedy as a studio.
The game’s co-writer and director Sam Lake appears both as the face of in-game detective Alex Casey, and as himself as Alex Casey’s actor within the fiction during live action sequences. He even flaunts the very same scowl that Max Payne’s titular hero — with Lake’s face plastered over him — did all the way back in 2001. That’s the level of winking awareness that this game is operating on, and yet it doesn’t have even a whiff of self-importance to it.
It’s all just part of the otherworldly stew that the game revels in. There is no tangible time or place that Alan Wake 2 abides by; no one mood or style that carries it for long before it chases a new, more horrifying or absurd ambition.
Alan Wake 2 feels like every bit the project that’s been brewing in Remedy’s collective mind for the past thirteen years. It therefore fits in perfectly as a sequel to both Alan Wake and Control; while the idea of a ‘shared universe’ has become synonymous with the trivial corporate ties between Marvel projects, Remedy’s take on the concept has proven itself a thoughtful and rewarding way to link their stories and characters together. Control’s AWE expansion made it explicit at the time, but the way all of these events are interlinked is just really fucking cool; and it’s a testament to how much thought goes into not only each game, but the collective body of fiction that Remedy has produced.
There are sure to be future games that pull from the structure and artistic flourishes presented here, but like all great works, I have a feeling that they will only flatter the original in time. Capcom may have nailed the modern action-horror tone and style, but Remedy has now gotten a foot in the door for the return of slower, more thematically dense horror in the higher-budget games space. The sort of horror that leaves you itching for more media on the same wavelength; horror that stays in your mind for days and days as you try and fit together every last piece of its dark and winding mysteries. Horror that amounts to so much more than just the pixels on the screen, and how many different ways they can make you jump.
