Mafia: The Old Country - Staying in the Car

In twelve hours of Mafia: The Old Country, I rarely wandered off the main path.

I didn't want to stray from the linear and tightly-paced narrative drive, and was content to gawk at early 1900's Sicily from my car or horse as I moved from A to B, rather than explore it properly.

I adore "short", linear, narrative-driven adventures. Especially cover shooters that are written with care. Throw in a few action set pieces and a couple of turret sections and I'm in heaven! I couldn't love the Uncharted series more and I'm one of perhaps four people globally who have recently mulled a replay of The Order: 1886. These predilections explain why I decided to pick up The Old Country around launch, and why I enjoyed it so much.

There's nothing groundbreaking about The Old Country's story, nor the gameplay for that matter. Local lad Enzo escapes poverty and gradually works his way up the ranks of the Torrisi Family. As his station in life improves, and he's asked to do more abhorrent things, he begins to question the path he's chosen and the cost it exacts. He also falls in love with the Don's daughter, as you do. Old hat? Maybe, but this well-worn tale is delivered confidently, and while it may be brief, it's never rushed. The characters that inhabit Enzo's world look and sound the part, and the performances are near-flawless. Between this and Expedition 33, it's been quite the year for outstanding voice acting breathing life into new characters.

The entirety of Enzo's tale is played out in a stunning but stunted portrayal of Sicily. Medieval towns, winding cobbled streets, opera houses, sunny piazzas, rustic farmhouses and inviting orchards - an old country where signs of early-twentieth-century modernity are few and far between.

I've never been more visually impressed by a "sandbox" yet less willing to engage with it. It's the backdrop, not the star, intended to be enjoyed as a part of the story, not apart from it. Or at least that's how I felt. I couldn't tell you how much of the map exists as a functional space beyond the main path, as I genuinely didn't explore, unless I felt I was being encouraged to. I don't see this as a failing of the map, more an indication of how invested I was in the story.

Sicily comes to life when you pass through. Villagers go about their daily work, drop-outs play cards, prostitutes flaunt their wares, and townspeople make themselves look busy. However, it didn't strike me as a space that would exist without me. I imagined everything simply disappearing once I'd driven past. It's more an interactive scene, rather than a living space, dormant until it's required to be otherwise. It springs to life when the story requires it, only to serve the player's eye. 

In one late-game mission, you're transported to the city. It's much more refined than the smaller towns you've visited up to that point, and you feel genuinely out of place. Enzo is quickly forced into the sewers, down where he belongs, before emerging in an opera house, which he then befouls with his presence and some brutal knife work. It was a memorable location, but I don't know whether you can return to it. Was it accessible via the map post-mission? I'm not sure, as I never looked. It wasn't my part of Sicily and the story no longer required my presence there. As far as I was concerned, it ceased to exist. 

You're not encouraged to explore. The Old Country isn't a collectathon. Anything you might wish to pick up will likely appear on the main path, or just off it. A closet in your home allows you to customise your character, but you're rarely returned there post- or pre-mission. This isn't an experience that calls for new haircuts or bigger guns, nor does it require your input in the shaping of Enzo's story. This is tight, precise game design, and I adored it. 

Old Country's Sicily is not what I would consider a sandbox. It's more like a mildly-interactive painting, an astoundingly beautiful backdrop that exists only to serve the core narrative. It's the widest and most luxurious corridor I've ever travelled down, and I'm glad that I took that journey.