Prey

It’s been a little too long since we had one. Oblivion and GRAW monopolized our Xbox 360s back in March, and in the four months since, we’ve been restlessly rummaging for the next irresistibly must-play game. In that sense, Prey is a breath of fresh gunsmoke, brimming with wild ideas and experiences. In some vaguely disappointing other senses, it marches too carefully in lockstep with FPS conventions. But at its core, Prey is a hugely enjoyable experience from start screen to end credits.

How’s this for a twist on the ol’ alien-invasion routine: Cherokees in space! Well, not space, really, but a mammoth, mobile, organic Dyson Sphere, which is basically a hollow globe so big that it encloses a pint-sized star and uses it as a power source. Neat trick, and it opens up loads of fascinating environments to explore. Naturally, the aliens who occupy said Sphere are all gibbering, flesh-eating fiends who kidnapped your girlfriend (and you’ll eventually find out exactly why they don’t just eat her), so screw saving the world: it’s all about getting her back.

The Cherokee part comes into play as just the first chess move in Prey’s masterful plan to throw tons of creative stuff at you. Your Cherokee heritage spawns spirit-walking powers that let you leave your body behind and pass through forcefields to unlock doors and such. But Prey’s got a lot more up its sleeve: teleportation portals pop open in all kinds of sneaky ways, startling you with unexpected attacks. Gravity-defying ramps let you walk on the walls and ceiling, forcing you to expect threats from literally any direction. Gravity-flipping switches let you solve puzzles by changing the very definition of up and down, and you’ll even fly Descent-esque ships through the Sphere’s vast enclosed spaces.

The Sphere itself is not for the weak of stomach. Since you’re battling inside a living creature, you’re often face-deep in some seriously goopy biological stuff, ranging from spinc-doors to vomiters that hose you with nastiness to grenades that are actually living, spider-like creatures. It all melds together to create perception-warping gameplay moments, like the time we found ourselves standing on what felt like a wall, shooting at enemies on the “ceiling” while a vomiter sprayed chunks at us from the “floor” and a portal opened up behind us in a flanking move. So…totally…cool.

Prey’s shortcomings are much better phrased as missed opportunities for glory. Regrettably, its developers didn’t seize the chance to break the mold of some too-familiar shooter clichés — like linear, run-down-the-corridor progression, frustration-filled puzzles, or even crate-stacking shenanigans. These game elements don’t suck — in fact, they’re smoothly and professionally executed — but sometimes that punk-ass little voice inside us that calls for a revolution, for innovation in each and every nook and cranny, just won’t shut up. And it has a point that you’ll have ample time to ponder during the too-long load times between levels. The only other complaint you’ll have is that the weapons look and feel too same-y, and you won’t ever develop a favorite, go-to gun.

In a strange way, Prey feels really old-school despite all its innovation, and that feeling is strongest in its simple but excellent multiplayer. In deathmatch or team-deathmatch modes, a scant eight players have at it in action that feels really fast and scooty, much more in line with Quake than, say, Halo. Outstanding maps deftly employ the game’s portal and gravity tricks to generate the kind of tense, exciting battles that’ll make Prey a favorite on Live. But it’ll be a favorite however you play. Perfect it ain’t, but Prey is consistently impressive and rousingly fun in a way that you just shouldn’t miss.