Few protagonists have suffered more as a result of nominative determinism than Max Payne. With a gaming debut that began with the brutal murder of his wife and child at the hands of drug addicts and a catalog of countless personal tragedies since, this former NYPD detective has been living up to his name for almost two decades.
Max may be so hard-boiled that he wouldn’t look out of place wrapped in colorful plastic and chucked in a bag of pick ‘n’ mix, but his apparently endless cynicism and constant wisecracks make him hard to hate. Although he’s undeniably excessively violent, each of his charmingly melodramatic utterances raises him above your typical thug. Well, that is, until Max Payne 3.
Time to heel
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We grew to love Max, but the third game turned everything we thought we knew on its head. Picking up nine years after the events of the first two entries, it immediately thrusts you into the shoes of an almost unrecognizable man. Having moved to São Paulo in pursuit of a new life, it becomes clear that Max, unable even to speak the local language, is isolated and out of his depth.
It’s easy to lament the loss of his elaborate witty remarks, which have been replaced with a tirade of monosyllabic moans, but Max is no longer the smarmy action hero we’re used to: he’s wracked with guilt and clouded by both crippling alcoholism and an addiction to painkillers.
We see him more dejected and desperate than ever and, although some dismiss this transformation as out of character, it’s a fitting conclusion to his arc. There are only so many times someone can lose everything – and Max Payne 3 is a somber reflection of a man pushed past his breaking point.
Max may be different, but his old self shines through in the odd poetic moment.
This feature first appeared in PLAY magazine - Subscribe here to save on the cover price, get exclusive covers, and have it delivered to your door or device every month.
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