Rose-Colored Redemption

I recently took a sightseeing trip to Colorado, and - because I am an irredeemable video game nerd - the utterly beautiful landscapes persistently reminded me of Red Dead Redemption. (Actually, the state's radically diverse environs also reminded me of video game world design in general -- with lakes, deserts, flatlands, mountains, clear skies, and snowdrifts all packed closely together.) I seriously considered taking this nostalgic energy back to the game and playing through it again; but it wasn't long before I remembered how much I hated herding cattle and lassoing wild horses, which I would need to sink some hours into before the game actually got going, and again once I got toward the end.

Like Uncharted 2 and 3, and as in the few occasions I tried to replay Shadow of the Colossus, I think that Red Dead Redemption is better remembered than played. The game has high highs, at its best when thrilling chases and gunplay totally engross you in its absolutely gorgeous game world. But its tedious, unskippable side-activities, and frequent spells of dry and boring wasteland, balance the gameplay experience back downward.

It's really better to forget that last part, and focus on the title's strengths, when I remember it. Like recalling Drake's heart-pounding action sequences and intricate obstacle traversal, rather than its poorly balanced combat; or thinking about hunting, ascending, and conquering epic colossi, instead of wrangling with a painfully unintuitive control system.

Of course, this doesn't always work (such as by remembering that Dark Void had excellent aeronautics, but was terrible at everything else).