WOLFENSTEIN: THE NEW ORDER
Iron Maiden. Wu-Tang Clan. Slayer. Aerosmith. Journey. MŲtlŽˇ CrŁŽ
(we must have nailed the umlauts somewhere there). Frankie Goes to
All bands who have games. Now, finally,
Manchesterís greatest join their esteemed company...
they donít, for, of course, Wolfenstein: The New Order has
zilcho whatsoever to do with New Order other than reminding us how
utterly dodgy their name is. Instead, itís a now-generation take on
what was essentially the originator of first-person shooters as we
After an introductory setty-uppy trundle, TNO
camps out in a disturbing alternate 1960s where the Nazis won WWII,
and set about Nazifying everything. Resistance? Itís futile, youíll
be locked away, or chucked in an asylum. The latter is where we find
1860s BJ Blazkowicz suffering confusion... briefly. Heís soon
plucking weapons from everywhere and getting brutal on Nazi vermin.
Via you Ė and fuck itís fun!
Itís the eminently killable
foes, and touches like dogs being robots Ė as even real Nazi pooches
didnít have any say in their recruitment, so they scarcely deserved
to be pounded with more artillery than Arnieís ever fired.
Yep, easily flipped-on-the-fly weapons abound. One-handed,
two-handed, chuckable, stabby-stabby, ones that deliver shell shock
and ones that make earth-shattering kabooms. Bullets and such to
insert within them proliferate, especially from corpsed-up Nazis.
Youíll collect more than weapons and power-ups, with various
puzzle chunks, newspapers, Easter eggies and such strewn about.
These are attached to the most emotionally-engaging story weíve ever
encountered in such a game, to the point where even impatient us
welcomed cutscenes for the very human saga that gradually unfolded.
We donít usually dig the FPS thing, but Wolfenstein: The New
Order has changed that. So, suffering a blue Monday? Give in to
temptation, run wild, have a fine time on a vicious streak and hurt
a procession of low-life Third Reich dickheads until theyíre evil