If you’re anything like me, you’re getting fed up of waiting for decent cooperative games to be released. Now should be better than ever by all accounts, we’ve got incredible machines that allow us to play through cooperative campaigns over the internet with friends from all over the world. But it’s not as good, somehow. There’s a simple pleasure to be had from sharing a sofa, a screen, and a bag of crisps with a good friend, and for years I simply thought that my complaints about the state of co-op gaming were tainted by rose-tinted nostalgia. Then however, I discovered The Red Star.
A casualty of Acclaim’s spiral into irrevocable bankruptcy, The Red Star never made it to shelves for its intended late 2004 release on Xbox and PS2. Found later by XS games (presumably on a shelf) it was later released on PS2, only to quickly slip away entirely into the abyss of bottom shelf obscurity. So first up, it’s important to note that this game is essentially about four years old, and that’s definitely something reflected by the graphical presentation of The Red Star. The design is pretty chunky and simplified, but this simplicity does give the game a distinctly sharp feel, and what the character models lack in detail they more than make up for with brilliantly fluid animation.
Oh, The Red Star doesn’t need to be beautiful though, because it’s sexy as hell. Filled to the brim with exhilarating moments, it’s pure co-op joy like you won’t have seen since the days of the Megadrive. The Red Star, rather than rewarding your skills with more traditional fare such as FMV story segments or bits of unlockable junk to peruse, gives you nothing more than a genuine sense of palpable satisfaction. A reminder of what games were like before the tsunami of unlockables and gamerscores hit home, the challenge is its own reward. Mercilessly battering the final enemy of a wave that caused you some serious beef gives you a fantastic sense of retribution, spotting an enemy about to hit your co-op partner and sharply dashing across to save them makes you feel genuinely important. Weaving your way around a shower of bullets on a sliver of health; the frantic few seconds of terror while you wait for your gun coolant to kick in; beating that end of level boss despite the odds being stacked against you; these moments and many more, they all feel nothing short of priceless.
