I'm going to touch on the concept of ethos (vis a vis my current avocation) before I begin the review proper. Those in search of a numerical score and nothing else can scurry off and perform the scroll-down-dance if they please.
To establish ethos is a labyrinthine affair requiring equal parts logos, pathos, and eye of newt, but as I have no interest in masquerading as a high school English teacher, I'll say this: it's fucking difficult. In a simpler society we find those with ethos to be the proverbial best and brightest—the master architect is the ultimate judge of architecture. But as erudition and its unfortunate sister decadence introduce themselves to a society their seductive whisperings effect a new mindset: ethos belongs to those who claim they have ethos. From this maxim evolves the cesspool of criticism, in which I find myself necessarily mired. I'll refer you to Alexander Pope for a detailed explanation on the unmitigated villainy of critics—he can do it far more eloquently than I, rest assured—but suffice to say that the artist and the critic do not always see eye to eye.
And from here we can transition to the subject of this review: Ubisoft's recent action/adventure (diligent readers who can inform me of a more tragic name for a genre will be well-rewarded) Assassin's Creed. The game has had a tenuous relationship with ethos since its release, most prominently due to the fracas in which Michael “Gabriel” Krahulik fancied himself DFA to IGN's James Murphy. In perhaps the most shining example in recent memory of I know you are, but what am I?, Krahulik alleged that the process of reviewing video games is inaccurate, deceitful, and morally corrupt. Stop me if I'm wrong here, but I believe he even busted out the ol' thesaurus and dropped “pernicious” on us. Tally ho, Gabriel, there be demons afoot!
See, the primary contention here is that gaming journalists, already desperate to scrounge up whatever ethos they can, cast it all aside by shackling themselves to deadlines and playing games in a method wholly exclusive to gaming journalists. Here, Gabriel makes a highly relevant point: why the fuck should you trust us? And if “us” is taken to mean IGN, he has even more of a point. Taking Gabriel's challenge, I played the game first through the “imperceptibly corrupt” IGN method devoid of sidequests and pacing, then through the Gabriel method replete with all the distractions I could ask for. The end result was entirely as expected, culminating in what will be the first of several Beautiful Moments in this review.
Revelation the First: Fuck IGN
Assassin's Creed is a masterful execution of a concept that wavers from hackneyed to revolutionary, often within the span of a single sword stroke. Sebastien Foucan would be proud of the game's breathtaking yet largely faithful acrobatics sequences, to the extent that you could pretend the rest of the game did not exist and simply focus on them. It would be an empty sort of bliss, however, as the game's true focus—the titular assassinations—are what separate the game from Prince of Persia IV: Here, Have Some More Whistles and Bells. The assassin's art is a dangerous and often poetic one, and though Assassin's Creed's learning curve often drew the attention away from the poetry, it never buried it. Alexander Pope as well would have to admit a grudging respect for the game. Yet I say grudging—and I say it emphatically—because only half a the story has yet been told. Prepare yourself once more, noble reader.
Revelation the Second: Fuck Gabriel
To carry the rose-tinted standard into heroic battle into a faceless behemoth as Gabriel did is not only misguided and naïve, it's pernicious. Rebellion for the sake of rebellion leads us down dangerous paths, which end in our purported hero becoming some ivory hybrid of Che Guevara and Clark Gable. Assassin's Creed is a game that, much like its protagonist Altair, specializes in imperceptibly corrupt schools of deception. The much-lauded sidequests devolve into hackneyed repetition, and the artificial intelligence only keeps disbelief suspended if you're already in the mindset where all flaws can be eloquently justified. I spoke earlier of the game nobly differentiating itself from Prince of Persia, but where does confirmation bias draw the line in the sand between homage and highway robbery? Gabriel can claim that he is neither a Christ nor a philanthropist, but frankly my dear, I don't give a damn. Which brings me to my final point.
Revelation the Third: Fuck Ethos
Ironic, isn't it, that a game so conceptually steeped in ethos—parkour, my good man! The game features parkour in a central role!—is the one to bring the facade of ethos down like a house of cards? I propose, from my experiences with this game, that ethos is an invalid concept. I enjoyed it not because of the mortality play that evolved around it, not because of Sebastien Foucan and Alexander Pope, and certainly not because of the game's amusingly pretentious meta-story concerning spaceships and memories and so forth. I enjoyed it because parkour and assassinations are as viable a combination as Scott Pilgrim and alcohol (your suggestions are greatly appreciated, Kieron). Thus when I score this game, you should trust me not because I'm a reviewer but because I'm correct. This game is in all ways deserving of an 8, but I'm going to dock it a hundredth of a point because my ethos lets me do so. 7.99
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