LA Noir, Not My Cup of Joe

My recent travel back in time didn’t involve stolen uranium, 1.21 gigawatts or even a time machine.  I was thrown into the year 1947 as a green cop on the streets of an ever expanding Los Angeles in LA Noir.  This isn’t a review of LA Noir since I couldn’t get myself to actually finish the game.  The fault wasn’t for lack of trying though, LA Noir just isn’t my type of game.

LA Noir was defeated early on because I’m just not into the era of the 1940′s and 50′s.  I don’t like the music, slang or fedoras.  But LA Noir is highly regarded as a creative IP so I took my chances and tried my hand at detective work.  News flash!  I blow at being a detective.  I’m terrible at it apparently.  After proving myself on the streets I was given my first chance at interrogation, have you seen that video with the zeppelin going up in flames, yeah that was my interrogation… six times.  I could not read the suspects “emotions” at all, leaving me with 1 out of 4 questions answered correctly.  Knowing that I’m missing something in the game that could eventually lead to an undesirable outcome infuriated me.  I wanted perfection and I couldn’t achieve it.  Plus investigating crime scenes was boring and I really wanted to actually arrest people not shoot first and ask questions later.  Did no police officer or detective in the 1950′s actually arrest anyone who ran from them?  Because I had to shoot even the pettiest of felons.

LA Noir did have positive marks.  The Los Angeles landscape is beautiful and the facial animations were incredible.  The voice acting could have used some work but were good enough that you could genuinely hear the emotions the actor was trying to portray.  Although frustrating as hell, I couldn’t stop playing LA Noir.  I kept telling myself, “one more case,” like there was some light at the end of the tunnel and all my problems would be solved, but they never were and my lack of interrogation skills continued to actually get worse.  Fiance forced her hand and made me give up on being a detective.  Plus Cole was just way too intense, how can he live with himself when he’s a jerk to everyone.  How do you yell at a wife who’s husband is missing and possibly dead?  Cole Phelps is a dick.

Burke

Burke

Founder.
Gamer, firefighter, blogger, karaoke monstar.

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