But most importantly, your execution command prompt has its very own pigment system. It goes from white to yellow to red, depending on how long you hold the A button. Aiming for the red-level execution, you run the risk of your opponent walking out of range, or more dangerously, turning around and calling his buddies over to turn your head into pudding. While no execution level is any more lethal than the next, they do vary in both length and grandeur. Trust us when we say that a higher level is much more satisfying and totally worth your patience.
Just as in the original game, predecessor to Manhunt 2 in name and spirit only, we got to see the notorious plastic bag execution. But this time... in all its brutal, "red" elegance. Not content to simply strangle someone from behind white-style, our hero spun his adversary around and savagely fist-kissed his already suffocating face, and even looked to break his neck before he hit the ground. (Again, it's hard to see.)
Don't believe the detractors. The game's violence isn't so much about glorifying violence as it islooking to elicit a response from the player. Certain aspects are effectively exploited for darkly comic purposes, such as severing a guy's head to trick a doorman into letting you through a vaulted door. But even the most desensitized miscreant can begin to recoil at Manhunt 2's explicit ferocity.
The blood you spill remains persistent on your clothing throughout the level, as a reminder of your past misdeeds. Things like mercilessly beating a police officer cowering in the fetal position will begin to affect you in ways far deeper than any ephemeral glee derived from general wrongdoing.
Manhunt 2 looks to be a deeply, horrifyingly unsettling experience, and we mean that as the highest possible compliment. The deeper you delve into the dystopic plot, involving twisted science, questionable advice and six years' worth lost memories set in an atmosphere so black it seems to almost bend time itself, you could very well begin to question your own morality. Speaking of which, we'd gladly pay handsomely to anyone out there with compromising pictures of Jack Thompson.