Damn.

Dubai is beautiful, even by today's graphics standards. Things control nice, gameplay makes sense. It's very Gears of War. This game, as a game, is perfectly fine. But you probably know that's not why you play this game. If you didn't know that, then, well...

What follows does not contain spoilers of events, but the emotional beats that the events caused in me. You are warned.

March into a city drowned in sand. You're the hero. You're gonna make it right. This all makes sense. Shoot the enemy. Move forward in cover. Have your sniper take out a window and blind the enemy. It makes sense.

Things aren't what they seem. They don't trust you. Things are a lot worse than you thought. But still, you're gonna do what's right. Because you're the hero.

You see things. You learn things. You feel boiling rage at what has happened. A smell fills the air, a man in body armor strides out of the smoke, and you actually roar as you hold the trigger down on his head. When that fight ends, you know what you're doing is right. You will be the hero.

You do something you have to. It is awful. But you had to do it. Right? They were the enemy. Your enemy. You are right and they are wrong and... that's the way it is... right?

It gets worse. But you keep fighting. Keep pushing. You're going to help. What you are doing has to help. But it doesn't.

Heroes make mistakes, right? Heroes are forgiven, right?

It gets worse. But you keep fighting for what you think is right. Because you're the hero. You have to be. Because if you're not the hero, what are you?