When I hop into Mass Effect’s six-wheeled all-terrain vehicle, the Mako, that one tongue twister comes to mind: Rubber baby buggy bumpers. Say it three times, as fast as you can. But that little ditty is how it feels to drive this thing around sometimes. Like I'm a child trying to drag their Red Flyer wagon into a bouncy house.
I hear some folks don’t like the Mako. After this replay of Mass Effect, I’m already sensing why. What’s the opposite of “coming around” on something? Because I used to love the Mako. Would live and die by the Mako. Fight people in regard to the Mako.
This time, though, I’m not so sure. Although I don’t place full blame on the vehicle itself. The Mako just does what it has to do in order to get up, down, and around these terrifying planets. The surfaces are rife with peak and valleys. Some landing zones are all backbreaking bumps and whiplashing potholes. With as rubber baby buggy bumpers as the Mako is on this kind of topography, I can’t even imagine how banged up the crew is inside of this metal coffin with wheels. It must feel like being in a sardine can and thrown down a flight of stairs.
Is that the Mako’s fault? No, that’s the terrain. The amount of area you cover on any one planet is maybe a square mile or two in video game terms. But they feel procedurally generated by a none-too-kind AI. And if these topographical stages were indeed handcrafted by developers, then they were overcorrecting for the 1980’s-smooth sci-fi lines and gentle slopes to be found in the game’s architecture.
These planets are raw, man. The Council ain’t got time to build smooth asphalt highways on every backwoods planetoid you land on, Commander. You want that electronic debris from some far-flung crashed satellite? You want that stack of rare rocks to add to your collection? You’re gonna have to buckle up and Mako it out there yourself.
Also, I’ve read the notes, and some planets I’m landing on have lower gravity than Earth. More bounce to the ounce. I’ve got plenty of repair juice onboard the Mako with me anyway. At least I think it’s fixed with repair juice Omni-Gel, that mysterious tiger balm for ATV servicing.
But the Mako sure does want to spin out in the parking lot, doing donuts with its windows down and its radio system up—when really I was only looking for the path of least resistance. The Mako isn’t hapless. It’s got attitude. It’s Eminem when really I could just use a little Barry Manilow now and then.
I don’t love the Mako like I used to. I used to waste a lot of time arguing with people on the internet about its virtues. And really, arguing with people on the internet at all is wasting too much time. Maybe I’m still holding onto the Mako a little too preciously because I know they’re taking it away from me in Mass Effect 2.
The biggest argument I can muster against the Mako is that I think it was aiming to be Blaster Master on the NES but ended up as, well, the Mako in Mass Effect.
Also, on an unrelated note, boy is Shepard a bad shot with assault rifles. I ain't the best with assault rifles, but I sure ain’t the worst. And I’ve watched lots of enemies traipse on through my cone of fire, free as a bird, not a care in the world, whistling a tune, while I’m unloading entire clips into them. I wonder if this is yet another one of those “the combat in Mass Effect 1 sucks” arguments that I've plugged my ears to all these years.
Just as long as we all remember I'm having fun here. I only feel comfortable leveling these criticisms at the first Mass Effect because it does reside on such hallowed ground. It's my favorite RPG of all time. And I don't want to have to put it up against the internet's sacred cow, Mass Effect 2, but I will. It's just that I accept OG Mass Effect despite its shortcomings. I celebrate them. I don't hide them. I might make excuses for them, but I certainly acknowledge them. Just let me reiterate that I'm having an absolute blast on this replay, as we count down the days to the Mass Effect: Legendary Edition remake. Here's my latest no-commentary gameplay: