Preview by: Brian Rowe

It has been 20 years since the nuclear holocaust, but humanity has yet to recover. The survivors, and a new generation that has only known suffering, cling to life in the transit tunnels beneath Moscow. Famine and disease are minor concerns in the face of constant attacks from raiders, mutated creatures, and a mysterious, new threat known as the Dark Ones. Although no one knows who or what the Dark Ones are, their presence is unmistakable. Victims, including entire caravans traveling along the rails, are gripped by hallucinations and left catatonic, defenseless to any creature nearby. Artyom is the exception. Born and raised underground, he bears the only known immunity to the Dark Ones, sending him on a perilous journey to uncover their origins.

Based on the book of the same name from author, Dmitry Glukhovsky, narrative is front-and-center in Metro 2033. There are choices to make throughout the game, such as whether or not to spare something for the poor, and there are multiple endings with subtle differences. Even so, Metro 2033 is a linear and boldly atmospheric adventure. I was immediately struck by an intricate attention to detail. The stations are much like the cities we know today. Friends gather at the bar to swap stories that you can hear, an elderly woman curses the young ones as she mops up their footprints, and shelves are filled with knick knacks. Life goes on, albeit crammed into dank tombs of steel and crumbling concrete.

Whereas Fallout 3 invoked an atmosphere of endless desolation, Metro 2033 is intensely claustrophobic, affording 4A Games the focus to embellish the scenery with unrivaled precision. Walking into a hospital, or what passes for one, you can almost read headlines from newspapers lining the bloodied floors. A trail of dust swirls beneath fluorescent lights while a generator hums in the background. Stay long enough and one of the patients will raise just enough to inspect his voyeur.

Metro 2033 takes place in a harsh world, and 4A Games isn’t afraid to let you know how bad it can be. While stocking up in a new town, a voice called out from the shady back alleys, offering a memorable night for only a few military-grade bullets – the currency of this chaotic world. I agreed to her price, purely for the sake of journalistic integrity mind you, and followed her into a shanty. I covered my eyes for a “big surprise” and barely caught a flash of the man who knocked me out. Every military-grade bullet I had was gone, with no hope of return.