A few
weeks ago, a couple of us were talking about the recent trilogy
of Ocean's
films. We remarked how Ocean's 13
just felt like a complete
retreading of everything that 11
had done a few years before. It told a
similar story with an identical flow, and rarely dared to venture outside of its predefined comfort zone. This was a far departure from Ocean's 12,
a creatively
bizarre, self-aware caper that alienated a lot of fans based on just how
different it was from its predecessor. But both Jeremy
Parish and I agreed that 12
was our favorite and the most memorable of
the trilogy because of this very departure. It takes commendable courage to completely turn a
successful formula on its head, and that's exactly what Steven
Soderbergh did. It's with this in mind that I say that Sly
Cooper:
Thieves in Time contains far too
much Ocean's
13, with none of 12's
risk to be found.
As the title suggest, Sly's
conceit in this installment is his team's ability to traverse to
different time periods on a journey to reunite with various members of
the raccoon's thieving lineage. After a ridiculously long lore dump and
an initial prologue on the rooftops of Paris, Sly and crew embark on their quantum adventure. You'll bust a cowboy out of jail, learn to manipulate time
in an ancient desert kingdom, and reunite a sushi chef with his beloved
cutlery. But despite the promising nature of these premises, Thieves in
Time never manages to rise above mediocrity, no matter which era you
travel to.
While I appreciate the fact
that Sly maneuvers across time every few hours to an aesthetically
different locale, the bland layout of each world does a disservice to
their admittedly interesting themes. A dusty Wild West mining town
doesn't feel different from a medieval castle, which doesn't feel
different from a Feudal Japanese garden. The core mission structure
adheres to the foundation that Grand
Theft Auto III built nearly 12
years ago: traverse to an arbitrary point on the map, watch a cutscene
that catches you up to speed, then go to another part of the map to
complete whatever the game wants you to do. With little incentive
placed on exploration, a bulk of Sly makes the player feel like one of
those kids with the unfortunate type of parents who believe that
putting a leash on their child is in no way demeaning.
Once you arrive at wherever a
mission tells you to go, Sly becomes well-aware that variety is the
spice of life, but it delivers a wealth of its content in a form that
feels akin to a low-grade all you can eat buffet. There may be 30
different dishes on the table in front of me, but each one will
inevitably leave me feeling bombed out and depleted. Bentley's various
hacking endeavors take place in the form of arcade-facsimiles that play
out as diluted versions of classic games from the '80s. Murray's
missions are even worse, such as when you're forced to play through a
stripped down PaRappa the Rapper-esque dance number that outstays its
welcome to the point where I honestly thought I'd stumbled upon a
glitch. And though each one of the costumes that Sly collects
throughout his adventure bestows him with a new ability, those skills
merely exist as a solution to a single problem. Need to resist fire?
Donn your heavy samurai armor. Have to trigger an out of reach switch? Become Robin Hood and fire and arrow.
When I look back at the truly
great 3D platformers of the past decade, I see games filled with unique
ideas and mechanics, while still managing to keep an interesting central
voice. Think back to Psychonauts,
where a change in location didn't
just mean a palette swap, but rather a rethinking of how you play the
game altogether. Or Ratchet's
initial PS3 trilogy that allowed
you to
create a unique experience based on which weapons and abilities you
chose to use throughout your adventure. There was an inherent sense of
creativity and wonder in these games that's sorely lacking from Sly's
fourth installment. And though Sly's writing is admittedly good, it's
still a step below the consistent humor displayed in Psychonauts and
the Ratchet games.
The one major redeeming factor
here is its support of Sony's Cross-Buy program, which allows those who
purchase the game for PS3 to download the title on their Vita for free.
After a brief setup process, you can share your save file between the
two games, allowing you to continue your progress whether you're at home or on the road. Being able to play the game on
my PS3, continue on public transportation via my
Vita, and immediately pick it up back at a PS3 is something that's
truly unique to Sony's hardware. It was one of my favorite features in
PlayStation
All-Stars,
and it's certainly one of my favorites here. The
gameplay experience is nearly identical on both platforms, which means the transition is never jarring. This
relatively young feature is something that Sony needs to embrace with
any applicable title in the future.
Thieves in Time makes me
realize that the Sly Cooper series feels stuck in the post-GTA III
world of the early aughts. It strives to deliver an open world, but
that space feels sparse and unlived in. It leans on variety at the
detriment of not allowing any one element to feel truly refined. It knows how to
tell a long story, but doesn't quite know how to tell a particularly
good one. Instead of stealing from others, perhaps it's time for Sly to
learn how to create something unique unto himself.
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