Lifeline (PS2) Reviews
By D. Riley
Posted July 26, 2004

Putting your trust in me is a fickle thing. When hanging out and killing a case of Yuengling while blasting Japanese Riot Grrl music is concerned you can count on me to maintain my "hyper reliable" status. However, when it's a deed requiring some semblance of actual work on the table you'll find me vanished faster than a ghost with the rise of the morning sun. Such is the way of this Lifeline review, which I promised to G. Turner approximately three days before the first rise of the fiery orb our planet rotates on a daily basis, somewhere in the range of six billion years ago. Yeah. I'm not only that old; I'm THAT unfaithful to my promises.

But for some reason, I'm still here.

Lifeline, as regulars of this site might know, was my hope for a brighter future in the world of gaming. My hope, as it often is, was completely unfounded. That's no surprise. This time it was based on the main character's sensible wardrobe vis-à-vis the evil alien menace threatening to take over her spaceship during its inaugural night not too far off into the future. "Pants!" I would cry to G. Turner, in some drunken fervor or other, "Pants! And sensible shoes!" Now, a low slung heel is arguably sensible in only the basest sense of the word, but where survival horror is concerned I almost thought it to be a renaissance in the realm of survival horror. A far cry from the tube top and leather microskirt Jill Valentine strutted around in five years ago. In this respect I consider myself on the forefront of the women's movement in videogames. Possibly this ties into my eccentric tastes in the fashion of women with whom I'm trying to (and failing at) accomplish coitus with, but I doubt it. I think it speaks of the strong sense of moral character I imbue in all those I talk to. Rio, the waitress aboard this doomed space hotel, was going to be the savior of videogame dorks as we know it! When Soul Calibur 2 brought us into the uncomfortable realm of breasts that would have trouble finding bras that fit even in the most special of specialty stores, I was 90-100% sure that Lifeline was going to drag us back from the brink of disaster, be it joyfully as I accepted it or with the kicking and screaming of a thousand 30 year old video game shut ins.

I know, it's a pretty crappy reason to base your hopes on a video game, but as any seasoned D. Riley lover will attest, I have a strong credo of avoiding media where up and coming survival horror games are concerned. So it was with Lifeline, as special a case as it was.

Lifeline is survival horror for only the reason that most games are labeled as such when they involve "OMG SUPER SECRET CONSPIRACIES" and monsters better suited to the films played at 3:00 Sunday morning on the Sci-Fi channel. The game fits this bill, to a tee, as within moments of inserting the disc you're assaulted with images of strange leeches and pill bugs wreaking havoc on the inhabitants of the world's first space hotel who were just trying to have a fun time ringing in the New Year. As things twist and turn, Rio finds himself trying to unlock the mysteries of these aliens and what they want. The story is relatively unremarkable, along the fare of other sub par survival horror games like Carrier and Martian Gothic. Hey, there's weird monsters here. What do they want? Who created them? Is this some evil government plot? You should know these answers already or I'm going to have to assume that you were, quite literally, born yesterday.

Lifeline's 'hook', as it is, is that you aren't playing as Rio; you assume the role of a man trapped in a command center, aiding Rio while trying to seek out your lost girlfriend. As such, your controls are issued to the lovely waitress-turned-hero via a USB Microphone headset. If I ever was a sucker for something, it was a gimmick. And this, my friend, is the gimmick to end 'em all. Unfortunately, it turns out to be a convoluted affair more uncomfortable than the early era of live action PC games with all their "What do you want? *click* Oh no, you don't want that *click* Nope. You don't want that either. *click* Yes, a dagger you want, is it?" chicanery. Every other ("legitimate") gaming site describes Lifeline as a graphical version of your favorite Zork game. While I found this a fairly apt description I had to pause for a moment and say "Hey MORONS, those games came out like fifteen years ago, they're called Kings Quest 1, 2, 3 and 4." I guess a burning ulcer is my just desserts for reading the 'popular' publications of GMR and other trash foisted upon you while perusing the aisles of your favorite gaming outlet. Unfortunately, such aggression is generally frowned upon in the world of fake video game journalism and I think I'd like to meet the IGN lawyers on more friendly terms, at least for the first time.

But graphical Zork is what it is, with all the foibles and frustration contained therein. Controlling Rio outside of combat is both an arduous chore and an exercise in fully formed vocabulary as you try every word in your Cro-Magnon cranium in a sour attempt to get her to pick up some useless object. Often frustrating but mostly benign, it usually just a matter of cracking open a thesaurus while you rattle off different synonyms for couch or briefcase. Aside from the odd time or two where the irascible young Rio misinterprets "Go right" for "Waste yet another of my goddam heal capsules you hearing impaired moron" you won't be frustrated beyond the point of wondering aloud why 'valise' is the only one of the myriad of words they decided to use for 'suitcase'.

Combat, however, is a different matter. Rio's understanding of any word in general takes a nose dive once those sirens go off and she readies that pistol of hers. When this intrepid writer figured out that the key to life is having the microphone positioned in a very exact spot while speaking in the most monotone voice possible it was like a new door had opened up in the world of Lifeline. Suddenly "Shoot, eye" didn't automatically translate into "Run around in circles and get hit by the mutant tongue monster AGAIN you fetid abortion of a human being". Until then, though, it was six hours of constant pain and controller hurling. Since the Japanese are a culture so accustomed to the burying of frustration I don't think they were really in the right mindset to comprehend that rage their game could inspire in a two hundred pound Irishman whose temper reaches the breaking point when a fly decides to land on the wrong windowsill. I think Konami will be receiving a bill for the 2+ Playstation controllers I broke while playing this game.

Lifeline, in the end, is a game I wanted to like so badly that I've become maybe one of the game's only apologists in the entire world (well, one of the only ones without 600+ posts on the GameFAQs message boards). In the survival horror world Lifeline raises the bar in a lot of ways. While the story's outline is mundane as is to be expected, the dynamic of Rio and the Operator (you) was one that I simply could not get enough of. An interlude in a supposedly haunted bathroom sent chills up and down my spine because of the evident fear in Rio's voice and actions. She relates the tale of a woman waiting for her lost lover or some nonsense like that, but her fear is so tangible in the way she opens each stall door (and more notably, in the way she begs you not to make her do it). Lifeline often takes us aside to explore our own emotions and trepidation. Unfortunately, in the middle of it's most poignant moments it's equally skilled in breaking down the fourth wall with an inappropriate combat sequence or with Rio misunderstanding yet another command executed with poor elocution and running straight out of the room. When Lifeline is doing what it's supposed to be doing you're enraptured. When Lifeline wanders off the beaten path you're just going to feel like you're typing "Kill grue with sword" over and over again. If that's not your thing, well, there's always moderately priced Pennsylvania beer and the new single by the semi-popular Japanese group BARNABY'S.

If -that's- your thing then I'll be right over.

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Est. 2003