I remember scrambling through the terror-laden corridors and rooms of the first F.E.A.R. years ago.
Monolith had crafted a place that not only fed the blazing barrels of my arsenal but struck the chords of my spine with every twitching light and flickering shadow of something sneaking by the very edge of what my eyes tried to tell me was there.
It had action. It had a twisted story. And it had plenty of spooky creepiness chortling at my unspent bullets.
The second game felt as if it had less of an edge because now I knew what I was up against. But it still had managed to work in a few of its own bloody surprises turning what was already a deeply disturbed story into a full blown mental schism with its ending. The action, as always, was never far behind and had even been beefed up with big mechs as tuxedos of death for when the occasion needed them.
F.3.A.R. packs even more bullet dances into its narrative. Plenty of furious firefights…without any of the actual fear.