BioShock Infinite

The BioShock series is, essentially, a run-and-gun horror FPS where you fight off a variety of madcap enemies with antique guns and magic powers, while running through a steampunk version of the 20^th Century that’s both cartoonishly ludicrous and broodingly miserable. The very first BioShock was a surprise classic, taking the dark, claustrophobic atmosphere of System Shock 2 and decorating it with a beautifully original setting – the decadent underwater metropolis of Rapture – and a unique story that threw bold new ideas at the concept of the faceless protagonist. I never played BioShock 2, which apparently had some new direction of its own that people took to with a mixed response, but I put the time into 2013’s BioShock Infinite, and it’s stayed with me as one of the finest shooters of recent memory, at least in terms of its batshit crazy, but enthralling, treatment of my most beloved of human inventions: narrative.

Infinite is a must for anyone who enjoys a good statue or two.

I was intrigued by Infinite before it was even released, just from looking at the concept. While BioShock 2 appeared to simply continue the story of Rapture, Infinite took the bold decision of moving its focus to an entirely new location – instead of a dark, dilapidated underwater city set in the 1960s, Infinite takes us to a gorgeously sunlit flying city set in the 1920s, complete with wide, open, brightly-lit spaces, in total contrast to its originator. It retained many of its core concepts, including its light RPG elements, its stylistic obsession with propaganda, and its unflinchingly brutal violence. I thought this was a fresh approach to creating a sequel, and by the time I reached Infinite’s grand, sensational climax, I realised that a significant chunk of the cerebral part of the game revolves around this very concept – constants and variables; what changes and what remains the same. Infinite is an extremely fun nuts-and-bolts shooter, which at times resembles a theme park thrill-ride, just like its forefather, but whereas the original BioShock was an exploration of a fantasy world inspired by lofty ideas and philosophies, Infinite brings those lofty ideas to the forefront, with greater emphasis placed on its story, its characters, and its brow-furrowing Wikipedia subheading of its Themes & Concepts.

In this game comparisons to the original Bioshock aren’t just expected, but necessary. Bioshock Infinite is set in Columbia, a city above the clouds, which, like Rapture, is an offshoot American settlement created as a haven for followers of the philosophy of its lunatic founder. In Rapture this was the laissez-faire anarcho-capitalism of Andrew Ryan, but in Columbia, the role of the city’s overbearing despot is the ‘prophet’ Comstock, a religious fanatic and oldschool white supremacist, which in the 1920s United States wasn’t perhaps such a radical position. You assume the role of Booker DeWitt, a former army man turned private detective, who is carrying out a mysterious assignment to go up into Columbia and ‘collect’ a girl from her incarceration inside a monumentally ginormous angel statute. At first this seems like a retread of the rescue-princess-from-tower trope used as the central plot in stories since the fucking Middle Ages, but from the offset, it’s made clear that Booker’s intentions in his rescue mission are to wipe away his unexplained ‘debts’ rather than out of a sense of chivalry. It also becomes apparent that Elizabeth, who appears to be as much of a Disney Princess as you can get away with without infringing copyright, has a wealth of space-and-time magic powers that push towards the godlike, and dwarf Booker’s gun-toting manliness quite substantially. Her powers are put to use in a clunky but interesting mechanic where you can summon helpful entities like ammo caches or defensive structures out of the ether, and these abilities eventually become the central mover of the storyline as you revisit the same levels in an alternate universe, which is when things really start getting crazy.

One of the game's most famous moments. The BioShock series often deals with the concept of choice.

One of the little things I thought was notable about BioShock Infinite (since there are a million things I could go into here) was how it puts great effort into portraying its violence in the most horrific way possible. Much of the fighting is blood-soaked and vicious, there are numerous scenes of abject cruelty, and defeated enemies let out cries of agonising pain. It’s a nice touch, however, that Elizabeth is originally horrified when she first experiences the murderous clusterfuck that is necessary to protect her. Criticisms against the game decried its violence is harsh and sadistic, a conclusion which I think is down to the fact that the violence is emphasised by its backdrop of a bright, cartoony landscape, and that it seems specifically heightened in order to instil the audience with deep revulsion. But the horror, which can be particularly spectacular even for the bloodstained world of videogames, is, I believe, justified by its juxtaposition against the setting of a idealistic, glorious utopia (for white people). If there’s any running theme in what BioShock is trying to ‘say’ (which is admittedly a flawed concept), it’s that idealism, and the promises of utopia that are fed to its subscribers, works to conceal the true brutality beneath its appealing surface. Propaganda, after all, is one of the BioShock series’ favourite staples, and you can’t move in Columbia for all its overbearing posters and borderline-communist statues. Even entire levels are dedicated to museums that proclaim the state-sponsored ideals of the floating city, while providing a little ham-fisted exposition in the process. All this propaganda is knowingly ironic, and emphasises the idea that its entire setting is built upon deceit, while also bringing to mind real-life parallels that give the game its softly anti-establishment credentials.

Infinite also met some criticism for its heavy-handed depictions of a thoroughly racist society, with the first sequence of combat in the game being preceded by a disgusting mob descent upon a mixed-race couple. The many uncomfortable scenes of racial nastiness have very little to do with the central plot, which is far more concerned with sci-fi ideas of multiple universe theory and concepts of choice and free will and all that airy-fairy, abstract sort of stuff, which led many people to question its purpose, aside from making the bad guys look particularly bad. Infinite actively bills itself as a distinctly American game, as you might’ve guessed from the torn American flag on the box art and the white Christian utopia-in-the-sky named Columbia. One of the first scenes in the game shows the founding fathers carved as neoclassical statues of divine significance, a clear piss-take at the reverential obsession America has with these figures in their history. One of its enemies is a robotic, minigun-wielding George Washington, for fuck’s sake. Keeping in mind that the game revolves around the idea of multiple worlds, and that Columbia is shown as being formerly part of the United States until it blasted off into the sky, I think that one way to look at Infinite’s sweetly nightmarish setting is as an exaggerated diorama of some of the grimmest aspects of the country’s history, a country where lofty idealism has held sway more than most. Even famous historical atrocities like the Boxer Rebellion and Wounded Knee are brought up and given a heroic spin by the city’s sinister elite. Just as certain characters are monstrous visions of the path unchosen, Columbia is a reflection of the dark parts of the United States, parts which are still to this day warped and concealed by manufactured attempts to distort the true narrative, of which institutional racism is one of the most significant examples, although exploitative capitalism and religious fervour are also absurdly satirised by Infinite.

Everything you need to know about the city of Columbia, as well as the BioShock series' approach to subtlety.

I’ll admit that despite all the things about it I think are genius, Infinite isn’t much for subtlety. Despite all its themes and its big ideas, which it manages to pull off effectively, this effectiveness isn’t attained by pussyfooting around. BioShock’s style, pehaps due to its stylistic adoration for propaganda, has always been about taking its story and shoving it right in your face, usually so you can be sickened by it, and all throughout Infinite are signs, literal and metaphorical, that spell out big sections of the backstory. The dialogue is also laid on pretty thick, suffering from a few bouts of appropriately American cheese, but while I’m a real sucker for subtle exposition, I’m still taken by BioShock’s bombastic way of doing things, maybe because it particularly works in the context of a bullet-flying videogame. BioShock Infinite is sensationalist, almost carnivalesque, which is probably why an early stage takes place at an actual funfair. It’s built a colossal and vibrant show that it wants to take you along by the hand and show you. And by christ do you notice what it’s trying to get you to think, or feel. It’s loaded with memorable moments and unforgettable sequences, and even when it’s trying excitedly to show you around, it never stops being fun. It’s so filled to the brim with ideas that it might take a wiki check or two to fully get your head around the ten million things happening in its ambitious final chapter. I think my favourite thing about Infinite is that it’s stuffed with such a high volume of creative flair, of ideas and visions and characters and concepts. In most media this might've been what would’ve killed it, but in a videogame, you’re free to take in the chronic thickness of stuff it throws your way at whatever pace you feel like.

I’ve rambled on way too long about this already, because you could go on for days about BioShock Infinite, and there’s so many really big things I haven’t even touched upon. It’s as if the discussion never ends, and for a game where you shoot fireballs from your hand and fight robot Abraham Lincolns, I find it pretty impressive how ambitious it is in forcing you to think and theorise about just what the hell’s going on. As an obsessive analyser, this is one of my favourite aspects of anything, and if you agree with me on that, or if you’re a fan of stuff like vicious social commentary and mind-warping science fiction, then I urge you to buy BioShock Infinite, or better yet, play the original BioShock first, as it’s a showstopping piece of work on its own, and the latter revelations of Infinite will be all the sweeter and more satisfying for doing so.