Combining the expansive scope of Grand Theft Auto and the
intricate character customization of Mass Effect, Facebook is possibly the most engrossing open-world RPG available
on the market. Some may be
intimidated by the constant updates needed to keep the game moving forward, but
Facebook provides an unimaginably detailed world that grows more complex as you
share more information about and develop your character.
The goal of Facebook’s single-player mode is
straightforward: accumulate and maintain the largest network of friends while
not alienating them by oversharing.
When first developed, the game was a simple, college-based MMO with only
one level: use your profile to get laid. Facebook has since expanded, but still retains much
of the original’s “girl stalking”-based objective.
Before building both a social network and your feeling of self-worth,
you first establish your character’s stats, fleshing out a backstory of
education and employment, selecting favorite movies and music, and choosing a
side in American politics (this will become very important in later levels).
Sharing photos from parties, your workout stats, and videos
that you are the first to discover helps you collect “Likes,” which are needed
to level up. In order to snag
friends, players have to create the impression that their protagonist is
leading an exciting life. The
first hurdle is how to boast without seeming arrogant (hint: using the
gratitude cheat code allows you to temporarily mask your egotism). This is also a good primer for the
“Convince your college friends that your life is going somewhere” stage.
As the game progresses and your character’s life becomes
more complicated, you open yourself up to new enemies. Family members enter the game, causing
you to rethink posting your off-color jokes. Prospective employers start to visit your profile and, racing
against the clock, you have to quickly untag drunken photos from the weekend
before it derails your career.
Not all missions are as cut and dry. The “Change everyone’s opinion on gun
control” level is particularly difficult.
I was stuck there for months before having to consult the strategy
guide. The trick is to keep
posting articles from The Atlantic, and after the fifth post, your opponents
will eventually cede to your expertise and superior command of the issue. Persistence is key.
There is, however, plenty of downtime between missions as
your character attempts to accomplish something worth posting. While waiting for the game’s
main plot to pick back up, it is easy to leave your own page and explore the detailed open world.
Tie-In websites such as Buzzfeed, Huffington Post and The Onion only
exist to be posted on walls. The
complex current events of Facebook’s world generate new wrinkles and keep the
debates going. The recent
“Government Shutdown” DLC made for weeks of petty debates (the point value for
comment chains increases exponentially as they go on), and the designers should
be greatly commended for making midgame boss George Zimmerman a consistent
source of posts and indignation.
As you interact with Facebook’s other inhabitants, you stumble
across numerous sidegames to distract you from your main objective. Cyberbullying, the sidegame that has
been reprimanded by parents’ groups, is for more experienced users who have the
time to build a profile within a profile.
Plus, it really isn’t as much fun as the media makes it sound.
While engrossing, Facebook can lose you on occasion; the
campaign tending to feel stagnant and
the narrative disjointed. No
matter how many game hours I logged, it didn’t feel as though my character was
advancing. It’s more or a random
assortment of check-ins than a cohesive story with forward momentum. As stated before, there are long
stretches of time where your character has nothing to post. This is made doubly frustrating when
glancing at your friends’ timelines and seeing that they are making more
progress than you, particularly in the “engagement” and “new parent” levels.
You start to wonder if the game is building to any sort of an
endgame, or if Facebook is content on being an open-ended MMO.
The lack of a consistent plot is offset, however, by the
deep transformation seen in your character. In past RPGs, your choices led you down
one of a set number of paths. Facebook’s protagonist isn’t easily
definable as “good” or “evil.” There are alternating layers of
narcissism and self-loathing in the gameplay. This is evident
in the recurring “Sunday Morning” level in which you log into the game only to discover that your avatar has drunkenly posted wildly inappropriate comments on
several people’s walls. Following a
trail of notifications and angry replies, you have to run damage control.
Facebook’s endgame typically begins when the character
reaches the age of 28, and usually around 11pm on a Thursday night, shortly
after escaping the “What the hell am I doing with my life?” dungeon by means of
posting even more links, blog posts, and hilarious status updates. With no warning or foreboding music,
Facebook’s final boss emerges. The
great antagonist isn’t someone of the opposing political party, an ex or even
predatory advertisers, but rather a shadow version of the player. Comprised of all the information that
has been inputted over the duration of the game, the avatar has more life and
energy than he player himself.
Completing the final level requires the player to realize
that digitizing the real world is, in fact, counterproductive. In an ending that invokes comparisons
to “Terminator 2” and “Battlestar Galactica,” the player hacks into the
Facebook mainframe, locates the well-hidden “Settings” menu and, after numerous
tense moments of hesitation, hits the “Deactivate account” button. Credits roll.
For all of its downtime and subplots that didn’t lead
anywhere, Facebook is still an immersive experience. At times the game was almost too absorbing, which is a good
problem to have when looking for a diversion from real life.
SCORE: 7.5/10
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