"We receive the due reward of our deeds." So reads the inscription on an artifact discovered in the early hours of Uncharted 4: A Thief's End. It's a passage from the Bible, spoken by Saint Dismas, a man crucified on the same day as Jesus. He spent years robbing and murdering innocent people before being sentenced to death for his crimes. And with those last words of revelation, Dismas earned the title of the Penitent Thief.
This
anecdote sets the tone for a powerful game about loss, betrayal,
regret, and redemption. In both its momentous set pieces and its
intimate, personal moments, Uncharted 4 drives its narrative forward
with a rare understanding of its characters, its world, and the gameplay
tying them all together. It's a stunning combination of disparate
parts. It's a breathtaking marvel of a game.
By this
point in the series, developer Naughty Dog has led us across the globe
in search of famous treasures from equally famous legends: we unearthed
El Dorado in the Amazon rainforest, found the Cintamani Stone deep in
the Himalayas, and entered Iram of the Pillars, a sandswept city with a
religious history of its own. In Uncharted 4, however, we find
protagonist Nathan Drake leading a quiet life with freelance journalist
Elena Fisher, who happens to be his wife. They live in New Orleans. They
have a three-bedroom house. They play video games together.
But
this all changes with the return of Nathan's older brother Sam, who was
presumed dead for 15 years. Not only is he alive and well, but he's
fallen in with criminals, and needs help paying a debt. He also has a
lead on one of history's greatest treasures: the loot of the pirate
Henry Avery, which the brothers have sought since their early days of
treasure hunting. Now, with Nathan forced out of his calm life, they set
off to chase their elusive white whale.
Sam's
arrival not only upends Nathan's newfound domestication, but
complicates his emotional life as well. Uncharted 4 gives us insight
into his past, and the way it shaped his psyche: how he despises
authority; how he uses humor as a shield; how he long ago accepted
violence as a justifiable means to an end. Uncharted 4 tells this story
with affection, showing an expert attention to detail in the way
Nathan's voice falters when discussing his childhood, or how he stares
at Elena when she's not looking. These details are painfully human. They
bring the characters to life.
This nuanced take on
Nathan's personality is reflected in Uncharted 4's gameplay, too. As
with previous titles, Uncharted 4 revolves around third-person combat,
climbing, and puzzle-solving. But, unlike its predecessors, this game
often lets you sneak past enemy soldiers without doing any harm at all.
This is a clear influence from The Last of Us, developer Naughty Dog's
darker take on a third-person adventure. Stealth requires a patient,
measured approach--but it feeds into the idea of a more reserved Nathan.
Uncharted 4's action flows seamlessly alongside its narrative. It's a
fluid, believable experience when it all comes together.
There
are minor mechanical problems: the cover mechanic can send you to the
wrong obstacle or wall in the middle of firefights, and rarely, Nathan
will grab the wrong ledge when climbing. But these observations wash
away within the grand scheme of things. There's always something
incredible around the corner to erase the momentary annoyances.
Uncharted 4's action flows seamlessly along with its narrative.
The
game borrows from The Last of Us in terms of structure as well. Much
like its cousin, Uncharted 4 embraces a more open approach with much of
its level design. There are small sandboxes where you climb towers,
learn the layout, mark enemies, and choose to fight through them, or
circumvent the group in the interest of a quiet escape. These areas
would hurt the pace of a lesser game, but Uncharted 4 keeps tension
alive even in its calculated moments, transitioning from open areas to
action sequences without halting the momentum.
Speaking
of: Uncharted 4's set-pieces are the best in the series, and among the
best-coordinated stunts in the medium. There's a heist in Tuscany.
There's an acrobatic escape along the cliffs of Scotland. There's a
chase through a busy marketplace, and it opens onto farmland as you leap
between trucks, slide through the mud, and crash through shacks in the
Madagascar countryside. Just when you think Uncharted 4 might settle
into a steady rhythm, it throws something new at you with high velocity
and incredible power.
These
sequences give you agency, but also enough guidance to maintain the
euphoric rush of a car chase without constantly dying. I'm reminded of
Half-Life 2's escape from City 17, where you sprint through apartments
and over rooftops, controlling your character while the game directs you
without sacrificing tension in the process.
The key
difference with Uncharted 4 is how it directs you with its camera and
lighting, guiding you to the correct ledge or doorway or crumbling wall
as you leap through explosions and plumes of smoke. Audio cues also aid
you--characters shout over the din of gunfire, telling you when to fight
and when to keep running. The dialogue makes sense within the moment.
And
then there's the presentation of it all. The cinematography, both
in-game and during cutscenes, amplifies the wonder of this gorgeous
world. It's not enough to call the jungles lush. They're vibrant. It's
not enough to call the game's version of Scotland vast. It's majestic.
There's also incredible animation at play, and it sets a new watermark
for games in the way it can illustrate subtle emotions like distrust and
yearning.
Sweeping camera shots and intimate close-ups
tie the characters to the beautiful locales, as Drake gazes toward
mythical places he only dreamed of as a kid. Uncharted 4 doesn't root
its visuals in the hues of realism, but rather, paints the world as it
might look to someone intent on exploring every inch of it--someone
intoxicated by the prospect of adventure.
Uncharted 4's cinematography, both in cutscenes and out, amplifies the wonder of its gorgeous world.
Uncharted
4's multiplayer, though, ditches grounded storytelling in favor of
all-out chaos: Nathan Drake clones swing from grappling hooks. Victor
Sullivans pistol-whip each other. The villains of past Uncharted games
lob grenades and fire RPGs and beat one another into a pulp.
This
all plays out in multiplayer mode staples such as team deathmatch and
zone control. But then there are Mysticals--attacks that make use of the
artifacts we've become familiar with throughout the series. El Dorado
summons aggressive spectres to attack your foes, the Cintamani Stone
revives fallen teammates, and the Djinn lets you teleport short
distances, blinking from spot to spot for a tactical advantage. In
addition to these fantastical elements, you can earn gold through kills
and revives, and find it scattered across multiplayer maps. It lets you
add Mysticals to your inventory, but also lets you summon AI snipers and
medics to aid your team's efforts. Uncharted 4's multiplayer exhibits
the necessary creativity to elevate its already fluid third-person
mechanics.
But although the multiplayer works well, and
features a progression system that can keep you playing past your first
few matches, it is not the primary draw.

The
draw of Uncharted 4 is its remarkable single-player journey. How each
of its parts feeds into the same cohesive whole. This is a narrative
that continues in its gameplay, as Nathan places a reassuring hand on
his brother's shoulder, or mutters a joke in Elena's ear. Uncharted 4 is
so meticulous, you get the sense that its characters are thinking
things we'll never hear out loud. "We have a lot of ground to cover,"
one person says. Is that in reference to the journey, or the first
uncertain step toward forgiveness? We can read it however we want.
Uncharted
4's gameplay pushes the narrative forward, the narrative feeds off its
gameplay, and every detail coalesces to create something bigger.
Uncharted 4 bounces between set pieces and personal moments with such
grace, with such skill and poise and affection for its characters, that
you don't mind when the guns stop firing, and the smoke clears, and
Nathan gets a moment to breathe.
Yes, this is a
thrilling adventure through exotic locations, with spectacular action
sequences and a pacing that pulls you through with ease. I had a smile
on my face the second it began. But it's also a story about family. It's
a story about self-examination. It's a story about making sacrifices
for the ones you care about.
And most of all, as its final moments make clear, this is a story about
storytelling--the importance we lend our idols, legends, and myths. How
we pass down the ones that inspire us. How an old photo of three
friends sitting on a pile of gold can unleash a flood of memories.
Uncharted 4 is a challenge to the medium. In its writing, in its design,
in its understanding of what makes games unique, Uncharted 4 is
something to aspire to. It's a shining example. And we'll be talking
about it for years to come.