

Two characters are mad at you for the events of the tutorial, even though it's never quite clear why that bad blood spills over into your relationship with your current partner-in-Freelancing, Owen, and there's enough believable awkwardness there to make you almost feel bad for him. The main cast is well-acted and genuine, with complicated emotions and motivations that might have been interesting had they been given time to grow. The story and overall worldbuilding do a great disservice to the characters, which have elements of what you might think of as BioWare's pedigree. "Shapers," "Arcanists," to "silence" this or that "relic"-all the dialogue is structured as if you already know what all these things are, so there's not even an element of mystery to it. As a result, everyone talks to you as if you know everything about the world, even though much of the game's space-fantasy jargon is explained only in codex entries. But that brief mission ends in failure, and after a two-year time skip, you're now an experienced Freelancer. In its intro mission, you are a rookie Freelancer-a hero type who battles threats to humanity in mechanized combat suits called javelins. It can take a while to warm up to Anthem in the first place. This is what Anthem is like as a whole: a game where promising moments are bookended by frustration, where good ideas are undone before they can be fully realized. When you don't have a means to cool down in the air, you have to interrupt your flight to cool off on the ground-or else your suit will overheat and send you careening downward much more violently. But you will eventually have to come back down to earth.

Flight, in these moments, is freeing, serene and exhilarating all at once. Launching upward off a jungle floor and bursting through a thick canopy of trees, bobbing and weaving your way under a waterfall as you take in the lush landscape below you, is one of the highlights of Anthem.
