Overwhelming and underwhelming. That’s how San Andreas feels to begin with. Underwhelming because, despite all the pillow talk preview promises and all the dreams and wish lists sown in the wake of Vice City, this is still unmistakably GTA, wrinkles and all. And it’s overwhelming through sheer, intimidating scale: in the enormity and scope of the game presented before you, so large and expansive that you’re still unsure of whether or not you’ve got any measure of it despite hours of invested play and progress.
It’s an apt mix of feelings, really, considering just how San Andreas – like its two PS2 forebears – continues to foster so much ambivalence. Crime-spree missions that entertain as much as they frustrate; visuals that swagger with style, character and rough, eyesore edges; a draw distance that strives to pack in the skeletal outline of an entire city while textures are drawn in just metres in front of lead character CJ; a game world that’s as solid, continuous and mesmerising as it is glitchy and prone to breaking down. The missions are possibly the most creative and focussed to yet grace a GTA, but still manage to infuriate as much as any of the classic GTAIII and Vice City sticking points, thanks as much to your unavoidable dependance on unreliable NPC partners as the fact that your mission can be brought to a juddering, unjust failure. It’s that typical GTA trait of brilliant, horrible freedom – completing a mission is an unparalleled satisfaction, thanks as much to the sensation of having improvised your own DIY solution, as having survived the chaotic whims of a bustling city filled with violent pedestrians and suicidal drivers.
The game is so fat with possibilities and details that you’re pretty much forced to turn to the missions in order to enlighten you as to the available avenues for profitable exploration and joyous time wasting. Exploration is more daunting than ever before; it’s possible to spend hours treasure hunting in just one of San Andreas’ many massive districts and not unearth a single reward. The sense of freedom is unprecedented, but conditional; you’ll only feel comfortable with it after diligently completing enough missions to give you enough power and knowledge to make any use of it. You’ve got to earn the sandbox this time around, and willingly hold the hand of a game whose hallmark up until now has been its lack of handholding.
The controls have been refined, but not redefined. Twin-stick aiming is now possible, but is rarely an effective way to tackle gunfights. Your enemies’ best tactic is to pop up and loose off a few shots before you can return superior fire; your best tactic is to get as distant a lock-on as possible. Still, the lock-on system feels more confident and useable, even if it can be easily distracted in the midst of a panicky shoot out. The ability to improve gun skills, along with the inclusion of Manhunt’s excellent headshot system, does help substantially, meaning that combat is now bearable – a leap over the comedic trauma of past GTAs.
For all the framerate drops, pop-up shocks and texture crimes, there are no roaming loading times. It’s not short of stylish beauty, either. The bold orange glare of a Los Santos sunset that drenches the whole city, or the night time desert landscape of deep purple and striking silhouettes, helps give the game world a fantastic variety in its ambience. Each district comes packed with geographical personality and a fitting urban drone as backdrop; alone that’s an achievement, one that’s made all the more affecting thanks to the stark, segregated atmosphere of the countryside portions of the game. This isn’t so much a variety of themes and motifs strung together as a believable caricature of an actual world.
But there’s one area in which San Andreas excels without fail or blemish – the vehicles. A carjack of all trades, it blends in even more forms of transport this time around – from the humble, joyous BMX to demanding aircraft and parachute descents – that feature supremely balanced handling that’s tight enough to provide sure control but relaxed enough to make travel an endlessly enjoyable and pliant way to while away your hours of downtime.
As with previous GTA games there’s lots to criticise, but San Andreas survives, scathed but still walking tall, buoyed by the kind of ambition that sees most games crumbling under the weight of it all. It’s a multi-faceted, multi-achieving experience, a rough-edged but massively substantial landmark. It’s a masterful marriage of perfectly-pitched vehicle insanity and decent combat, more so than any other GTA, but its world is one that demands work as much as it allows play. And, of course, it comes coated in cultural magpie-ism, even if you don’t find it as caustically satirical and intelligent as its reputation would have it.
Sparkling in enough places, it strides ahead of the majority of games, offering an experience that treats the player as being something more than just a dumb recycling bin for brainless action movies. It’s a fact reinforced by the magnificent soundtrack selection, a collection that also makes every other licensed listing seem a like one-dimensional afterthought. And it’s the kind of game that leaves the player with their own personalised mix tape of magical memorable moments – as well as a few stress-induced scars, but ones that belong to you, nonetheless.
When you take San Andreas apart to look at the bits, it’s not too impressive a sight. But it’s not a game that’s played in such a deconstructive stasis; everything is moving and swirling together before you, and when it all hums in smooth unison it’s an unbeatable rush of freedom and empowerment. A ten. A phenomenon. A game like no other. And when it clashes, you’re left with a grudging seven. A flawed gem. A broken masterpiece; nothing has really changed in three years.
But – much like this review – you’re vocalising those flaws so strongly only because you were so deeply, hypnotically engrossed in the first place.
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