By Nathan Grayson on July 10th, 2012 at 10:00 am.
If a big-budget, trumpeted-to-the-high-heavens sequel goes silent for more than a year, that usually means one of three things: 1) It’s been canned, 2) It’s been significantly reworked, or 3) It was never real at all, you only imagined it, and you are – in reality – straight-jacket-straining mad. I was absolutely certain Brothers In Arms: Furious Four was a case of the third thing, but according to Gearbox, it’s actually the second. And I guess I believe those guys. Now could someone help me out of this straight jacket?
Gearbox CEO and former professional magician (seriously) Randy Pitchford told his game’s sordid tale to the sordid tale specialists at CVG:
“I’m looking forward to being able to talk about Brothers in Arms: Furious 4 soon. The game has evolved. I think people are going to be surprised by what they’ll see, and it’s still evolving. One of the reasons why we’re not talking about it now is that it’s evolving and we need to make further changes before we can start talking about it.”
When Gearbox first revealed the new face of its favorite war (no, not that one) last year, reactions to the out-of-left-field focus on cartoony co-op were incredibly mixed. News, however, soon broke that this was merely a “test bed,” with the slightly less crotch-tazing-prone story of Sgt Matt Baker and his company of heroes to continue at a later date.
So then, with any luck, this “evolution” will benefit all involved. That said, I probably have a higher opinion of the Furious Four’s original furious form than most. I mean, that very dumb debut trailer made it look like a low-brow Inglorious Basterds, but – having seen the game in action during E3 2011 – I don’t really think that’s accurate. It struck me more as WWII meets Borderlands meets Left 4 Dead, and the demo looked like solidly silly, though largely unspectacular fun. In a pinch, I’d probably pick a better Hell’s Highway over that, but still, Furious Four’s existence was far from a personal affront to my own.
There, now you have my two cents. You may, if you please, use them in your brain’s vending machine – perhaps to purchase food for thought.