This isn’t even a “fake it until you make it” situation. But the game never apologizes for its style. You’ll hear it a lot.Īny of these details alone would look silly - possibly tone-destroying - if Gears were less bold. When they’re done killing stuff with their dirty weapons, the game celebrates the occasion with a chunky guitar riff. And those guns, by the way, are named with gnarly, mechanical words: Torque Bow, Gnasher, Hammerburst. They never just open doors, they blast them aside with violent kicks that I can only speculate are, like their guns, powered by combustion. They are the bro-est warriors ever, slamming magazines into their chainsaw guns using their fire hydrant-sized arms. Everything about Gears is loud, clear, and simple.Ī note on our heroes: They sure are some dudes. It’s a simple and enjoyable story, well told through fun objectives, believable environments, and passionate, consistent voice performances for Marcus, Dom, Baird, and the Cole Train (baby).
With a small band of brothers, Fenix and company must do their part to help deliver a bomb deep within the Locust’s underground home. You are Marcus Fenix, a tree trunk of a man freed from prison because, well, there just aren’t many good soldiers left. This approach leaves no room for subtlety, but none is needed in a game so committed to raw function.Įvil rock people called Locusts have emerged from beneath the planet’s surface and started killing everyone. It’s constantly concerned with whether the player knows what to do, and whether the player is having fun. Everything about Gears is loud, clear, and simple - words that are often wrongly replaced with “stupid.” On the contrary, Gears is one of the most involved, attentive games I’ve played.