It's hard to deny the sheer level of passion and dedication developer 34BigThings have put into the Redout series. Easy as it may be to dismiss what goes into crafting a futuristic/anti-grav racer is little more than the notion of simply going fast, what has made this subset of racing games so appealing is everything that often surrounds (and even encompasses) that thrill of speed. The multiple settings and locales; venturing across different planets and the furthest reaches of space that so often paints the future as this bright, vibrant, optimistic turning point in history. Then there's the music; the drilling of electronic music whose hard-hitting beats and leading melodies are at the very least one added bit of encouragement to break the sound barrier. The point is racers of this type can so often live and die by the ambition of their implied scale and the effort imposed on their aesthetics. Like all great sci-fi of any medium, that vision of a yonder time -- no matter how far flung it may be -- and the wonderment of how things may be decades/centuries from now, though trivial, still spurs fans to immerse themselves in a new ideal all over again.
That attention to detail was very much a plus when it came to the original Redout in 2016, though it would be foolish to avoid the obvious benefit that its availability across multiple platforms brings. The joy of racing made even more joyous by the possibilities of greater fidelity and frame-rate alike for those on PC, with the hardware to match. As someone having started one's fondness for the genre, boring and so obvious an answer this may sound, all the way back with the original F-Zero on the SNES (itself a kind of lavish tech demo-in-disguise for Nintendo's system and how Mode 7 truly was a huge selling point for the SNES), much like platformers and Metroidvanias, it's great to see a once big name-dominated genre find itself survive through more independent collectives of developers and publishers alike. Even if the pool is a lot less limited, the spirit and driving philosophy of high-speed, high-risk racing is very much alive.
It's because of that very philosophy why I have so many high moments during playing Redout 2. Memorizing the twists and turns of a vibrant and colorful rendition of Japan, breaking near-2000KM/h on a track surrounding a black hole. Then there are the courses set on a cloud-covered planet whose highest apexes, like any great rollercoaster, find you giddily glimpsing at the winding, snaking track preceding/succeeding one's current placement, but not before you find yourself (arguably the best moment I've had) plummeting in a completely-vertical drop during one of many "jump" segments. Not for the first time, finding the surrounding environment of bright, neon-esque color devolve into a split-second blur. Redout 2's notion of speed is arguably unparalleled in this space and when it hits, 34BigThings' pitch of a game built around prioritizing high-stakes speed is a winning one. Grinning ear to ear as the speedometer pushes past 1200KM/h. There are plenty of highs here and if it were left at that, no doubt Redout 2 would be an easy recommendation.
But then you take into account the game's other components. The constant AI rubber-banding, the Career mode with its abundance of rehashed objectives and at worst, unbalanced difficulty spikes and more so, an incessant need to constantly play high-risk strategies mid-race. Sadly those palpable spots of positivity, though unsullied on their own, are eventually and quickly countered with everything else going on. That which, not unlike Ghostwire: Tokyo, surrounds its impressive presentation and dedication to aesthetic with not-so-pleasant and potentially-damaging caveats. Caveats that feel far too deeply rooted in arbitrary numbers that no amount of play-time or learning of the mechanics will remedy. That easy recommendation of prior, inevitably devolving into one of caution. Admirable it may be 34BigThings have deliberately marketed and built the sequel as a challenging racer -- one with no easy routes to success, beyond the default difficulty settings. Success on the track stemming mostly from memorizing tracks and knowing when and how to turn/strafe/pivot your ship in getting not just the best position, but also the highest speed during gravity-defying loops.
Taking that on its own, learning the track is an enjoyable-enough venture. Not least when you stumble upon the more meta-level tactics, such as knowing how/when to manage your boost -- boosting out of a corner especially is something I didn't expect would be as valuable as it is. In a vacuum, Redout 2's mid-race management can be exciting to grip with. One where speed is governed by two interlinked meters. Boosting causing a heat meter to raise -- overheating your ship then eating into your health the longer you maintain that increased speed. A departure from the previous game's focus on combat, instead ditching the offensive aspect of racing in favor of one whose main risk is how little health you want to give yourself and for how long. The game does attempt to vary up the risk this brings with things like environmental changes for each track. Hot surroundings for example slowing the rate of cool-down after boosting. Likewise, segments that have you skirting across water having the opposite effect. It even extends to how strong the gravity is -- one that has its biggest impact during jump segments that require you not just landing back on track, but doing so at the right rotation and angle. A perfect landing rewarding you with a small boost.
Again, when you look at these elements on their own, it's easy to proclaim these as worthwhile additions to help spice up races. The problem is that all these added obstacles, obstructions and bits of management -- the latter of which will so quickly fall into one of two categories with players: you either love it or utterly detest its very existence -- run antithetical to the general notion of running as fast as possible. Meaning you'll spend the majority of races with low health (that constant beeping sound never too far away) and involuntarily playing high risks in a game, like so many racers, with rubber-banding similarly close-by. Enacted by AI opponents that seem to so conveniently stay ahead, even when one is enacting the fastest boost available. How I can go 1600KM/h and find the opponent in front not just stay ahead, but actually gain distance over me, is odd to say the least.
Perhaps this is why the Career mode is as long-running (and long-winded) as it is. Running across four separate "leagues" (excluding the starting Tutorial segment), in which you have to win a certain number of stars over a multitude of varying objectives to qualify for the promotion challenge that gains access to the next league/tier of challenges. Its progression of unlockable parts -- some purely cosmetic, but most bolstering stats -- a means by which players can ease into the feel of racing. But again, 34BigThings' intentions seem both contradictory and unnecessarily tasking. For one, the Career mode has too few an objective type to justify its overly-padded length. Its requirement for how many stars you need to unlock the Promotion race on its own doing little to persuade players to stick with grinding out results. It's not long before you get the sense you're repeating the same tasks one too many times over such a short span of time with little rewards to speak of. A small consolation is that there are different course layouts applied to each setting in alleviating some of that implied repetition. In fact one objective type, dubbed "Boss," has you racing across all three track variations one after another.
But for every one instance of a challenge feeling justified in its requirement, so too something like the Speed challenges pop up that to put it bluntly are borderline-atrocious in their difficulty scaling. To the point I struggled to pass even the Bronze level requirement, despite adequate time invested in learning track layouts and opportune moments to boost. Here, players are rewarded points based on how fast one is going and for how long -- the rate of accumulating points increasing after hitting the next speed milestone. On paper it's a simple-enough objective and one that, as noted, stems from one's knowledge and time investment with each track presented. The problem is that no matter what arbitrary difficulty level you select, the requirement levels for Bronze/Silver/Gold don't scale. Further to that, the requirements are simply too high to begin with.
All this does is further put into perspective the occasionally confusing and contradictory design 34BigThings have gone for here. A game that seemingly wants you to be going fast at all times (demands it even, if you're even dreaming of finishing first in the upper tier of difficulty levels)...yet punishes you for doing that very thing via nagging health meters and track design alike. The latter of which, while not Redout 2's biggest flaw, is by no means perfect. Instance where an extreme loop is quickly followed by a sharp corner requiring you to take cautious measures to slow down. Just as AI opponents sail past with little difficulty at said corners. So too in environments like one set in an extreme-heat mining facility -- the bright glow of the environment meshing with the visibility of the track, whose own palette is bizarrely using the same shades of red/orange/black., causing you to mistake one for the other.
Closing Comments:
Redout 2 is the kind of game I so desperately want to speak nothing but praise for. The art direction, aesthetic, presentation and technical handling culminate in the kind of racing experience any fan of anti-grav racing would gladly devote ample hours in. 34BigThings' dedication to their craft one that so obviously stems from a love for this sub-genre's undeniable importance in gaming. But that same dedication and commitment to this harsher, high-demand form of gameplay unfortunately sheds a light on how this year's sequel ends up succumbing to such high-stake ambitions. A Career mode dominated one too many times by unnecessary padding and poorly-implemented challenges. More so, a reliance on ship management that has the potential to turn more people away, rather than coax them towards it. Brimming with so many highs, but also plenty of regrettable lows, Redout 2 is fast, frantic and fantastic at points, but frustratingly flawed enough to warrant caution in its current state.