Moonshot: Borderlands Adds a Dark Middle Chapter with 'The Pre-Sequel'

Jack's back! And he's still a tool. In fact, according to the new Borderlands he was always a tool – no personal tragedies or cruel twists of unbiased fate needed here, as jerks are born - not made - in whatever galaxy Pandora is located (actually, that's pretty universal, isn't it?). Gearbox's latest trip to the trippiest planetary system in known space isn't exactly Shakespearean tragedy – Jack's hubris serves him unbelievably well and there's no downfall to be found here – but at least we get to see the bad guy's journey from wisecracking A-with-a-capital-Hole to the mass-murdering malfeasant we've come to love. And hey, it's a trilogy now!

I asked a friend not long ago if he was excited for the 'new Borderlands' and he scoffed, saying “It's not really a new Borderlands”. In a way he was right, though I think perhaps he meant it in a manner less cordial than this game deserves. Borderlands: The Pre-Sequel certainly does not reinvent the wheel, but it does thicken the series' already lively mythology and offer up a generous new helping of all the things that makes Borderlands so damned good – guns, explosions, jokes, and fun. Perhaps inevitably, it also strong-arms the audience into a darker, more deranged place thanks to the downward trajectory of the characters, not to mention a handful of disquieting scenes that sent me to bed early with a glass of warm milk. Alas, TPS tends toward gimmickry and falls a bit shy of it's predecessor's highest of high water marks quality-wise, but the quibbles are largely forgivable when weighed against the sheer volume of shoot-'n-loot that is Borderlands' beloved hallmark.

Honestly, we should be happy Borderlands even made it this far. When Gearbox Software released the original in 2009 it was largely an experiment – a hybrid shooter/role-player that mixed non-stop gunning with level grinding, skill trees and meticulous item management. It might have crashed and burned, or bulwarked the $5 bins in your local game store for years to come. But Borderlands found an audience in people who enjoyed the irreverent tone of the game, the glitzy action, and the ability to tailor chosen characters to their own play style. Add to that the thrill of the LOOT: thousands of weapon combos and the tantalizing carrot that every item recovered was potentially rare, potentially kick-ass and potentially never to be seen again and you had an addictive brew for sure.

Borderlands 2 was a master class in doing a sequel right: Gearbox did everything bigger and better, tweaking the controls, exponentially expanding loot potential, incorporating an actual story and sending us into Pandora's more diverse and colorful environs (a welcome change from the first game's monochromatic trash fields and wastelands). It also introduced one of the most memorable villains in gaming history: motormouthed psychopath Handsome Jack, a genius with a grudge against the entire planet and an unhealthy obsession with Pandora's mysterious energy-spewing Vault. Though he is physically on-screen for less than five minutes, Jack's God-like omnipresence (and ceaseless goading) drove you to the final showdown and the jerkbag's deliciously satisfying defeat.

 The Pre-Sequel takes us back a few years to when Handsome Jack was simply Jack (or 'John' to his hated superiors) and had not yet donned his facsimile face mask or displayed a proclivity for pure evil. Little breadcrumbs from the last game – mostly in the form of audio recordings and the dialogue of supporting characters – had maybe suggested Jack's past was muddled and his descent into villainy not the result of mere megalomania. Eh, not quite. But TPS treats players to a backstory that shows Jack in a (kinda) sympathetic light and makes his hateful mein in the last game (almost) understandable. It also fills in the gaps of what is probably the most interesting time in the series' mythology, the period shortly after the Vault is opened but before Jack uses it's vast Eridium reserves to become the mad tyrant of Pandora. If there's a tragedy here it is the infection on prequel-itis and the sense that we missed out on a more interesting Pandora-based chapter in favor of an entirely new setting; the developers debuted some new toys but told a more cookie-cutter tale in the process.

The action shifts to Pandora's volcanic moon of Elpis, loaded – nay, brimming – with Aussies, as well as the Hyperion Corporation's Helios space station, the H-shaped monstrosity ever-looming in the skies no matter which direction you turn. Jack, a lowly and unappreciated Hyperion engineer, has summoned Vault Hunters to him in secret to exploit what only he knows to be the vast potential of the Vault's contents. The Dahl Corporation has other plans, however, and invades Helios with an armada of ships and an army of space-suited commandos. As Jack's new hire it falls to you to help liberate the space station and strike back against Dahl before proceeding toward the riches of the Vault.

What follows is standard Borderlands fare: blasting from one waypoint to the next with Schwarzeneggerian zeal while ticking off a list of little chores in service to the larger story. Do not EVER expect a switch or lever to work correctly the first time, and if you think you're going to cross any stretch of land or – God help you – a bridge uncontested then you don't know Borderlands and you might, truthfully, be happier playing Mario Kart. It's cool, though, because you're going to need all those kills to level up one of four new classes of playable characters, each for the first time an actual participant in the story with a history – or future role to play – in the series. Veterans of the DLC The Secret Armory of General Knoxx will remember Athena, the assassin from the defunct Atlas Corporation, while Borderlands 2 devotees will recognize both Nisha, the foul-tempered pistolero, and perhaps most famously Wilhelm, the cyborg enforcer who earlier appeared as an evil boss. Rounding it out is Claptrap, the beloved, bumbling trashcan-on-a-unicycle robot that is the unmistakable mascot of the series. How did it take this long to make that dude a playable character?

Something else fans will remember from prior games and DLCs: pacing, which continues to be a problem despite the more focused story and the best efforts of developer 2K Australia. The character's elaborate skill trees demand prodigious leveling – more than can ever be achieved in one playthrough – which most of the time is achieved with long, sloggy slow parts during or between missions where respawning minions are mowed down like wheatgrass and seemingly mundane tasks are arbitrarily stretched to absurd time-chewers. Side missions help push the XP up considerably, but in the case of TPS they seem truly extraneous and forced in what is otherwise supposed to a be beat-the-clock

kind of story. But padding your level becomes indispensable since the story quests surge up in difficulty and you find yourself more overwhelmed and outgunned than usual if you try bulling through the main campaign in one shot. The effect is that so much time elapses between the milestones of the narrative you often forget what it was you were supposed to be doing and – more importantly – why you were doing it. By the end of the second act it is apparent the game is suffering from Phantom Menace-like symptoms as it burns hours telling a story that doesn't need to be a told, a systemic problem of ALL prequels despite the industry's love of them. The requisite 'big villain' is of little consequence ultimately and her evil scheme never comes to pass anyway. Yet Pandora hangs like an overripe grapefruit in the background, the split in her southern continent visible from space as it spews magenta energy from the newly breached Vault. It's mocking us, reminding us of just how much story there is just over there...if only you can make it past still another jammed door or blown bridge.

There's a steeper learning curve on this title courtesy of Elpis's low gravity, one of the 'gimmicks' to which I referred. Players can bound high into the air, soar across otherwise impassable gaps with ease, and incorporate some offense with the 'gravity slam' – basically smashing your ass down on the ground – for an area-of-effect attack that can be souped up with status mods and bonus damage. The downside of this is that it is a bitch to master – if mastering is indeed possible – and all the while you're struggling to control

your wild flight you're being judiciously peppered with enemy ordinance and schooled mid-air by foes who can outmaneuver you as an F-22 might a balsa plane. It gets easier with practice and any Vault Hunter worth his salt will soon learn to incorporate the new attack into every fight (it's practically a necessity), but while it amps up the challenge it also adds a strange chore-like aspect to every battle, as seeking and winning the highest ground often takes priority over using your guns and skills to maximum effect. Much of the play environment, and indeed many of the mission requirements, utilizes the reformed mobility as a prerequisite to achieving your goals, something casual shooters may find maddening early on. I myself died more in the first 5-7 hours of gameplay than I ever did my entire first playthrough of Borderlands 2. Your first go at the story is always bound to get you turned around looking for a mission-sensitive item or out-of-the-way door, but with the addition of truly 3D combat Borderlands unrefined 2D maps are more of a hindrance than ever. Expect some gettin' lost time, and don't count on any of the locals giving you helpful directions.

The visuals are eye-popping and often bombastic – the last-gen platforms are definitely getting a workout – but with the caveat that we're in a more truly 'alien' environment than we're used to seeing in this series. Gone are the scintillating glaciers and windswept highlands of Pandora, the rocky coasts and sun-baked mesas. Elpis is a dark-skied place veined with garish stratum, snowy fissures and bizarre colors; only the bright yellow Helios station an exception. It can be bleak and decidedly 'foreign' at the same time and it made me yearn for the more naturalistic environments of past games. Fortunately the gameplay is smattered with familiar faces and references enough to stave off the worst homesickness – ex-Vault Hunters Lillith and Roland are here again as Jack's allies, an ironic turn that Borderlands players know won't last long. Noticeably absent is the most familiar face – a real face – in the Borderlands series, that of actress/model Britanni Johnson as Angel, the Artificial Intelligence guide whose ethereal live-action close-ups keep you company throughout the first two games. A puzzling omission, as this story takes place after Angel's first stint (and a tantalizing hint that she isn't really a computer) but before the stunning revelation in Borderlands 2 that she is, in fact, Jack's super-powered daughter, brutalized and enslaved by him for his evil purposes. Where on Earth (or Pandora) is that story???

In the end I still had a lot of fun despite my quibbles (and really, that's what games are about and Gearbox understands that). Kudos to voice actor Daemen Clark (sp) for once again playing Jack with such cocky abandon, and to the developers for probably the coolest and most inventive skill trees to date – Claptrap's VaultHunter.exe action skill alone is worth a second playthrough. But I couldn't stave off my long-standing animosity toward pre-anything to enjoy TPS perhaps as much as it deserved. Jack was the most interesting character of Borderlands 2 precisely because he was mysterious, his crazed take on the universe and his utter amorality a slap in the face of simple decency and a challenge to one's natural sense of order. But really, folks, when you ask 'Where did that loony come from??', you're speaking rhetorically. Having the question actually answered, especially in a plodding, piecemeal fashion, detracts from the character just as all excess of backstory detracts from any hero – or villain – worth your time.