on Mar 20, 2012
So, as far as we can tell, Megan lives in the pure white room, which is directly between the naked muscle man room and the launch pad with the space rocket. Does she even have a bathroom? What does she do on the weekends?
I can just picture what life must be like here: She and Namir are having a fiery argument. Namir is naked, trashing the room because he can’t find his penis and he just knows she moved it again. She’s always doing that. Moving his things. Then their shouting stops. A handful of guys in red and black body armor shuffle through on the way to the helipad. They’re embarassed to walk in on the couple like this, but this room is the only way to the spaceport. They’re in a hurry, because Bob has to go to the bathroom and the nearest one is on the mainland. He’s going to have to use the rocket if he wants to make it in time.
Back in my Human Revolution first impressions post, some people were a little amused or confused that I decided to share this screen shot:
I mean, it’s a mop bucket, right? What the hell?
But what I loved wasn’t the mop bucket itself, but the line of reasoning that put it there. Someone was designing the Sarif facilities, and they tried to think of the building as a real place. Where do people work? How do they move around the building? Where do they eat? What kind of items would you expect to find in an office?
This is a long way from the room/hallway/room approach that most games give us, where rooms are nothing more than a place to have combat encounters and follow no other logic, reason, or pattern.
The game has gradually been moving away from the sensible, detailed, and interesting spaces we saw at the start of the game and degrading into generic FPS encounter space. This area where Megan’s conversation takes place is a notable example of this ongoing damage to the verisimilitude of the world.
And yes, I think Chris nailed it: It feels like they ran out of time / money here at the end.