Editorials
[Review] ‘Metro Exodus’ Takes You On a Thrilling Road Trip Without Really Going Anywhere New
Should you get aboard the Metro hype train? Read why we thought you may hesitate to buy a ticket in our Metro Exodus review.
Carefully I approach the shore, makeshift oars breaking apart a thin crust of ice bobbing atop these irradiated waters. I’m careful to avoid the ripples as I go – a telltale sign of something lurking beneath the surface, waiting to turn my rickety boat into a splintery supper. On foot now, I approach the small shanty town ahead, a church bell tolling from across this blighted wasteland. I can hear two men talking; wiping the dirt, rain, and blood from my gas mark, I ready my pneumatic rifle. I’ve got a clutch of freshly-crafted steel balls, more than enough to quietly take off the pair of watchmen. The gun’s jammed, however, and I take a knee for a few seconds to fix it, having forgotten to do so when ambushed by a pack of hound-like mutants back near the railway, swapping out the useless weapon for my personally modified shotgun. It may only hold two shells but if it wasn’t for those two shots having found their mark, I’d be dead right now.
Then I realize something – these two men, they’re unarmed: looking out over the lake, two long fishing poles hungrily hovering above its murky waters. This land belongs to a cult, its zealous, technophobic followers having almost killed me during our last encounter. Still, these two look friendly enough. Holstering my rifle, I approach…
Metro Exodus has plenty of these moments and while not completely unscripted they add a layer to the game’s story and atmosphere that wasn’t there before. Both Metro 2033 and its sequel, Last Light, were incredibly linear shooters that had you scouring a subterranean network of tunnels in their grim depiction of a nuclear apocalypse. Occasionally, you’d brave the surface, gas mark in hand, exploring wider areas overrun by mutants but there was that same feeling of being led from one beat to the next instead of being able to fully soak in this world, inspired by the best-selling novels of Russian author Dmitry Glukhovsky.
In the past, Metro has been mistakenly labeled as a spiritual successor to the severely underrated Stalker series. I say this because part of what made those games so unique wasn’t their hazardous wastelands and occasional quirkiness, it was the sense that you had some actual freedom in approaching your objectives instead of hurtling down a single path, taking the odd breather when the story felt like indulging itself.
Metro Exodus definitely leans closer to its Stalker roots this time around though it’s still, for the most part, a linear experience. This isn’t Fallout – you won’t be setting off, charting a course for a chosen landmark, then experiencing a series of emergent stories in between. Sadly, Exodus isn’t equipped to feel like a fully open-world game, instead finding a middle ground that should appease series fans and those wanting something more than a mere cookie-cutter sequel.
Whether or not you’ve played previous entries or read Glukhovsky’s books isn’t hugely important. There are references to certain characters and events that may go over your head but, for the most part, Exodus is newcomer-friendly. Once again you play as silent protagonist Artyom who, since the events of Last Light, has tried to settle down. However, convinced that he and his fellow metro-dwelling survivors aren’t alone in the world, he continues to take risky excursions above the surface, endangering himself while eating into the settlement’s dwindling resources.
We won’t spoil what happens but if you’ve seen any pre-release media for Metro Exodus then you know about the Aurora – the train that carries Artyom and a ragtag band of survivors beyond Moscow, giving Exodus a distinct road trip feel flavor, unlike its more confined predecessors. It’s tempting to make the joke that Metro has become an on-rails shooter though you won’t be spending too much time on the tracks. Exodus settles into a rhythm of taking you from one large hub area to the next where you will complete story missions and a string of side tasks.
Compared to previous games, it’s more open by design, though the minute-to-minute gameplay hasn’t really evolved. There’s something about the shooting and the way Artyom awkwardly shambles around that feels clumsy and archaic, Metro sits somewhere between the snappy responsiveness of games like Call of Duty and the deliberate heft of Killzone, though never finding a comfortable sweet spot.
It’s more than serviceable, however, and there’ll be plenty of satisfying moments when cranking far off headshots or just managing to fend off a mutant swarm. You can avoid most confrontations altogether, of course, though Metro’s flimsy stealth mechanics remain largely unchanged since previous games.
Those survival elements the series has featured in the past come to the fore, however. With the option to freely explore Metro’s wasteland, Exodus gives you an expanded toolset to do so while having a more robust crafting system. Where previous installments had you exchanging currency for ammunition, weapons, and equipment, everything here is either found in abandoned caches or crafted by hand.
Extra tools such as ziplines, binoculars, and workbenches all come in handy while adding texture to the game world. If there’s one thing Exodus does extremely well, it’s making you feel truly immersed as a survivor looking for hope in its alluringly oppressive world. With two games under the belt, expect to see some similar design tropes when it comes to Metro’s characters, enemies, and environments, though developer 4A Games also pushes for some diversity, too.
Despite a predominant sludge of browns and greys topped with a dusting of snow, Exodus can be quite the looker. Not all of its locales are brimming with a picturesque sense of character, though the game benefits from some fantastically detailed character work and lighting effects.
If you loved both 2033 and Last Light then you’ve likely boarded the hype train already and won’t be disappointed. Many will appreciate the continuation of Artyom’s story and 4A’s shift towards a freer, more immersive experience though Metro is still a couple of pegs below that top tier of first-person shooters. It feels rough around the edges and is let down by occasional bugs, sloppy AI, and a flimsy stealth system. That said, innovations elsewhere make some of these shortfalls easier to overlook.
Metro Exodus review code for PS4 provided by the publisher.
Metro Exodus is out February 15 on PS4, Xbox One, and PC via the Epic Games Store.
College kids, strippers and vampires—those were Donald P. Borchers’ only requirements when he approached Richard Wenk about writing and directing a movie for New World Pictures. As requested, Wenk cooked up Vamp (1986), a tailor-made blend of the decade’s teen movie craze as well as its horror boom.
Grim and earnest stories were still very much a part of the ’80s horror landscape, yet Vamp is something of a comedy. One difference between it and, say, Saturday the 14th, though, is the former avoids using schtick. Wenk’s movie proves that horror comedies also don’t have to subtract thrills from their recipes. Of course, it takes a minute before reaching that point; college antics and culture shocks preface this one macabre misadventure.
Vamp‘s initial setup is apt for a typical college-set, sex-driven comedy; to bribe their way into a fraternity house, two pledges (Chris Makepeace, Robert Rusler) go looking for some adult entertainment. Without wasting time on any further exposition, the characters embark on an all-in-one-night trip that quickly detours into terror.
To procure their elusive MacGuffin—a stripper willing to gyrate for some frat boys—Keith (Makepeace) and AJ (Rusler), plus a third wheel named Duncan (Gedee Watanabe), trade the safety of their remote college campus for the seediness of some unnamed city. The setting is recognizably L.A. by day, but as soon as night falls, downtown, along with the characters, slips into a kind of surreal universe. Director of photography Elliot Davis gave this early entry on his prolific résumé an unusual yet distinctive look; that Mario Bava-esque, magenta-green lighting is omnipresent, so much so that it’s almost its own character.
Chris Makepeace and Robert Rusler in Vamp
The faint comparisons to Martin Scorsese’s After Hours are merited, although not just because of Vamp’s distinguishing nighttime aesthetic. Save for the primary characters, the supporting roles in Wenk’s movie are also quite colorful and transactional in their behavior. The difference here, though, is the additional urge to ruin Keith and his friends at every turn. Some of that harm is humorous and tolerable enough, whereas the moment Vamp dishes out its first fatality, it’s abundantly clear how this movie qualifies as horror.
Vamp falls into that category of horror movie that reveals its genre with a scream rather than a series of whispers. The opening scene can function as a hint of what lies ahead—things are not at all what they appear to be—but otherwise, Wenk is more than happy to hold off on the horror. When that time does come, though, it catches the viewer off guard. In addition to the pure shock value is that sudden decision to upend the movie’s foremost feature. Or so it would seem.
If afraid of major spoilage, those new to Vamp would be wise to stop reading here. There’s just no skirting around the fact that the central fellowship in this buddy movie hits a serious snag when AJ is killed. That development causes the story to become more of a “long, bad night” journey for Keith and his romantic interest. So while Wenk scores points for subverting expectations, there is also a touch of sadness in his decision. Because if Vamp does anything well, it’s making the characters likable.
Something that comes easily to Vamp—and other teen horror movies from this same era—is its ability to invent young characters worth caring about, or at the very least, are interesting and not so immediately off-putting. More impressive is how Wenk did all this without actually fleshing out those characters. Still and all, Keith and his kind are a grade above cookie-cutter, and in some cases, aren’t completely devoid of growth.
Grace Jones in Vamp
Vamp appeals with an assorted cast of characters. No two are the same, nor are they operating on the same wavelength. The cinematically extroverted AJ, whose actor conveyed charm and vulnerability in near equal amounts, comes alive when he’s at his most undead. Makepeace then makes the chronically cautious Keith a sympathetic fellow, even as he’s more and more affected by the night’s bizarre events. Meanwhile, Duncan is indeed the designated loser of the whole bunch, but Watanabe still manages to humanize him. As a bonus, the role didn’t require him to pull a Long Duk Dong.
As for Dedee Pfeiffer, she is plain adorable as the mysterious After Dark server nicknamed “Amaretto”. She spends all night fixing her dress strap while at the same time trying to get Keith to remember how he knows her. As their offbeat romance grows, it becomes another highlight of this movie. Whether or not Pfeiffer’s character is really a vampire also creates some welcome tension in the story.
Like a lot of its contemporaries, Vamp went on to become a bit of a cult classic. That current status is determined by several factors, but without a doubt, the casting of Grace Jones is the most considerable. The image of her writhing on that unique-looking chair, a Keith Haring original, springs to mind whenever this movie is brought up.
Chris Makepeace, Billy Drago and Paunita Nichols in Vamp
Prior to that first display of unequivocal horror, local vampire queen Katrina (Jones) took to the stage and delivered a strip show like no other. One would expect nothing less from that renowned model and performance artist. By now reports of Jones’ tardiness on set are no secret, yet it’s also hard to deny her commitment to the part of Katrina. It was, in fact, Jones who took charge of her character’s appearance—on top of Haring painting her body and that now-iconic chair, she had Andy Warhol handle her costuming. And not too many actors could seize a room’s attention without saying a single line of dialogue.
In 2022, Vamp received a retrospective novelization from Encyclopocalypse. This literary union of preexisting source material—Wenk’s original screenplay—and new ideas from author Christian Francis amounts to a more comprehensive visit to the After Dark Club. The basic story there is no different than what’s shown on screen; however, Francis gets creative with the characters’ origins and designs, and he enhances a number of key scenes.
The novelization expands on the urban and social decay of the main setting, and supplies a background for the After Dark Club. Sandy Baron’s character, Katrina’s emcee and familiar, is given ample motivation for sticking around; up until the fiery end, he is loyal to his friend and former business partner “Squeak”, who looks like he was “fed through a combine harvester, and left as nothing more than a heap of mangled remains”. Then there is Billy Drago’s character Snow, the leader of a street gang called The Dragons. His reason for menacing Keith and AJ is more altruistic than in the movie; he and his peers act tough to scare off any potential food for the vampires.
Lisa Lyon in Vamp
If not for all the backstories, Francis’ Vamp would be a hell of a lot shorter. Instead, this tie-in read dives into how AJ met Keith—the orphaned Anthony Joseph hailed from a broken home back in Brooklyn—and how their friendship flourished over the years. Keith’s archership is no longer just an assumed part of his entire being; it’s a confidence-building extracurricular for a boy who got picked on before coming into the protection of the new kid in town. These supplemental, in-depth looks at the protagonists, plus their close connection, are maybe unnecessary. The movie already did a fair and concise job of addressing their platonic intimacy without the need for flashbacks and insights, specifically in that scene where AJ lays it all out as he sacrifices himself.
Where the novelization gets off course is its approach to the minor characters. Intermittently backstorying the likes of Katrina’s indentured servants, Seko (Leila Hee Olsen) and Vlad (Brad Logan), ends up disturbing the flow of the writing. Was it absolutely essential that readers know Vlad was the Grand Duke of the House of Romanov, or how Snow’s accomplice Maven (Paunita Nichols) became so dentally challenged? No, not really. However, one’s mileage with these random biographies may vary.
The novelization is a more substantial experience, but for a movie like Vamp, less is more. And as plentiful as they are, it never simply coasts on its campy charms, either. The character work sits comfortably in that realm between cursory and meticulous, the script is sharper than first realized, and Greg Cannom’s vampire makeup is straightforward yet effective. Most of all, the movie didn’t squander its out-of-the-box concept. Richard Wenk made his vision of a “comic nightmare in which just about anything that can go wrong does” come true, and it is very enjoyable.
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