Assassin's Creed (PS3)

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Though it would be easy to cite at least half a dozen high-profile counterarguments, Assassin's Creed may just be the most ambitious game to come out in 2007. Blending the sandbox adventure and the stealth action game -- the two forms perhaps most notorious for bedeviling even the most seasoned developers -- it certainly reaches for the stars. And while it may not quite live up to the hype afforded it by its storied development cycle and aggressive marketing campaign, it's a game that will nonetheless wholly engage you and at times dazzle you with its brilliance.

You are Altaïr, a member of the Hashashin, a secret society of assassins that operated in the Middle East during a rough period of about 200 years in the Middle Ages. The Hashashin were reviled and persecuted by the powers that be, a courtesy that they returned by causing all manner of ruckus in the established order, most notably by performing brazen hits on many high-profile characters of the day. Though much of the order's particulars have been made cloudy by legend (and some really wild legends at that), Assassin's Creed would have you believe the Hashashin followed a strict code, and anything short of an unflinching adherence to it would mean very bad things for the errant initiate. Though a medieval scholar could probably best tell you what's what, I think it's safe to say that these brothers were serious, indeed.

The game's primary narrative (yes, there are two) takes place in the Holy Land, circa 1191, following master assassin Altaïr's sudden fall from grace and subsequent laborious redemption. With every high-profile victim he dispatches, he further internalizes the Hashashin's creed. This, in turn, softens his colleagues' reactions to him -- they're pretty condescending at first, if not outright hostile -- and qualifies him for additional grim tasks. There's a whole lot at stake: The Knights Templar (the storied medieval military order that forms the cornerstone of many a conspiracy theory) are forming some pretty disturbing alliances with a number of prominent individuals on both sides of the holy war.

The big surprise in Assassin's Creed (which, to assuage the spoiler-averse, is revealed in the first minute of gameplay) is that the "real" story is actually taking place in the near future. A shadowy outfit named Abstergo Industries has created a device called the Animus, which can parse -- via a bafflingly non-invasive interface -- the "genetic memories" of anyone strapped into it. Abstergo's current subject is a young man named Desmond, none other than the direct descendent of Altaïr, and the most compliant prisoner imaginable. Abstergo seeks a nebulous "something." Working on a hunch that Desmond's ancestor had intimate knowledge of it, they force the absurdly disengaged young man to experience some of the key moments in the assassin's life. While Desmond struggles to deliver a semi-vocal sulk at the outrageous injustice of his captivity, you get to experience what life would be like as a medieval Batman. Frankly, it's the player that wins.

All in all, it's an amusing story clumsily delivered. The prime culprit here is Altaïr's voice work. Much like his descendent, he generally comes off as bored and insolent, which flies in the face of the severe, fatalistic character you'd imagine him to be. The game lends itself greatly to extended periods of solitude, and when you're in the predatory, methodical flow of things, you'll find yourself profoundly immersed in the sublimely realized world. Once it comes time to move the story along, however, that feeling goes out the window: Altaïr simply isn't believable as a real person, let alone likeable. It's as if his lines were being read out of context.