The structure of the story makes Psychonauts an obvious reference, though truth-be-told Psychonauts is a viable comparison for a whole load of other reasons too. Things have changed in Wonderland, and while she's there Alice must try to unravel her psychological state in a search for inner peace, while at the same time dealing with other problems in the real world. Soon enough, Wonderland calls and thus the rhythm of the game is established as Alice flits between her hallucinations and the real world, which is no less grim or sensible. The dialogue is oddly placed and the vocals strangely flat on occasion, but after a few minutes this starts to add to the charm – Alice wanders through the streets and listens to onlookers damn her or letch after her with a curious sense of unreality. The story begins with Alice laid on the psychiatrist’s couch in a muted, grimy version of Victorian England, re-rendered with a Schindler’s List palette. The problem does not lie with the visuals or the plotting, which are as sublime as you might imagine, even if they do spend a lot of time riffing off the themes of the original American McGee’s Alice. Near faultlessness – a case of so close, yet not quite meeting absolute brilliance.
Part Lewis Carroll, part Tim Burton and part fantastic Alice is a tour de force of artistry and near-mechanical faultlessness. Madness Returns is, it turns out, no exception. Ever since his days of working on the original Doom, McGee has worked on some of the most visually inventive – if not always mechanically solid – videogames.
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