[In this in-depth opinion piece, game commentator Duncan Fyfe examines the increasingly-overblown promotional campaign that preceded the release of DICE's Mirror's Edge -- and considers whether it's all worth it.] It's essentially over. Mirror's Edge has been released, and from my perspective, it ran a very strange campaign. This is one of our last opportunities to talk about that process while it's still current and hopefully still interesting -- although Mirror's Edge itself will be last-gen and boring as early as next January, so pretty soon nobody will be talking about the actual game, either. These things have a very fragile lifespan. The debut trailer in May quickly endeared itself to the constituents of Internet City. Clearly it was something different: artistically striking, and an original first-person take on a familiar third-person genre. It invited favorable comparisons to Portal (perhaps unintentionally), as both games appeared to have a visual and a gameplay aesthetic in common. Obviously, they shared a female player character and a vivid color palette -- and it's unfortunate that those are so rare as to immediately link the games together. Otherwise, they were both first-person games with no emphasis on combat, instead preferring environmental puzzles. Where Portal was the definitive first-person action puzzle comedy, Mirror's Edge would likewise be the first-person free-running platformer, capturing the adrenaline-rush primacy of movement and physicality like few games had before it. Both are minimalist in their design, featuring sparse, bright environments and no HUD. It seemed like a reasonable assumption, then to expect that this minimalism would result in a gameplay-endemic storytelling model much like Portal. Early previews suggested that radio communication was an important element, implying, agreeably, that the story would be delivered primarily through voice-over. It was all supposition; DICE itself never drew the comparison directly. Until, of course, they set lyrics to the official Mirror's Edge theme song and called it "Still Alive". (Sample lyrics: "Ooh, I'm still alive/I'm still alive.") After the initial trailer, curiously, every Mirror's Edge press release reflected design decisions shockingly unlike Portal's. It was as if DICE felt it had the Portal vote all tied up, and needed to broaden its appeal to sway some undecideds. The marketing strategy that followed, however, was perhaps not the best move. When they had everyone thoroughly bewitched by the potential gameplay, they followed up by unloading a heavy dump truck full of superfluous lore, possibly into a local river or other municipal resource. We couldn't get the innovative platformer without the gritty saga of betrayal and revenge set in a near-future totalitarian police state/extreme skateboarding park in which sisters are framed for crimes they did not commit. My friend Steve Gaynor points out that Mirror's Edge takes less after 1984 than it does Marc Ecko's Getting Up. Telling such a story entirely in-game presents a writing challenge, as Valve well knows. DICE resolved to opt out of first-person and deliver its narrative primarily in a series of heavily-promoted, 2D Flash-style cutscenes featuring extensive expository narration written by Rhianna Pratchett. For Mirror's Edge historians, a tie-in comic book documents the everyday routine of main character Faith before it was disrupted by a video game plot catalyst. The selling of Mirror's Edge is less about making a cool game available to play, and more about launching a grand multimedia franchise event. Also, please buy the original soundtrack. At the time Portal was released, its story was an unknown quantity. It slowly unraveled and became progressively more involving as you played, and did so while remaining unintrusive. When dispatches of fictional backstory are one of the first things published about a game, before anyone's had a chance to play it, and are revealed in a passive format unrelated to the act of play, then it's not a game -- it's homework. Please pay attention to all the particulars about these crooked bureaucrats and Faith's designer sneakers, because it's totally going to affect the way you climb over fences. The story is apparently so good, in fact, that it could not be leashed to just one game. DICE quickly assured us that Mirror's Edge was always planned as a trilogy, as if there isn't a game announcement any more cliche and presumptuous. Reports came in that this was an apparently unforgiving platformer demanding precision, and the heart-pumping adrenaline of leaping across rooftops, fleeing from gunfire and helicopters is always captured perfectly by repeatedly failing at the same jump. DICE made the game's time trial mode a big deal, and promised that there would be special DLC in our future -- platform-exclusive DLC, and so the game gains value as an asset in the console wars -- which is what video games are all about. None of it had anything to do with what made the game appealing in the first place, and made the whole package look a bit worse. I'm especially puzzled as to why they pushed the story so hard. My degree in political science almost leads me to suspect that it was damage control -- getting the information out early, to preempt journalists from busting open a scoop on how the 2D cutscenes were ridiculous (this isn't what we learned in political science at all.) Portal was lucky it didn't have similar flaws, luckier still that it didn't have to run the publicity gauntlet that Mirror's Edge did. Portal was never promoted on a triple-A level, otherwise we would have known everything about it. We'd be indoctrinated in the full history of Aperture Science, and the backstories and motivations of Chell and GLaDOS would be well-documented in trailers and character profiles. Previews would have exhausted puzzle solutions. Penny Arcade would have done a prequel comic and "Still Alive" (the original) would have been Digged to YouTube stardom. Special challenge room DLC would have been announced. As soon as pictures of Chell were published, she would soon be redesigned by fans as a comely fifteen-year-old of nebulous Asian descent.

We've come to demand that level of exposure -- but it would have ruined Portal's chances at success. Portal slipped in under the cover of Half-Life and Team Fortress. It capitalized on low expectations, and the surprise contributed to players' positive impressions. Mirror's Edge couldn't work that way. It came up from design documents and out of pitch meetings and was elevated to triple-A status, where it doesn't have the luxury of privacy. When your game becomes a high-profile, high-talent, cross-media, cross-platform franchise trilogy experience, there's a lot on the line. At the start it seemed reasonable to think that Mirror's Edge could stand entirely on the merits of its brilliant core concept, and not need to include extraneous and negligibly attractive features to appeal to as many people as possible. But, no, this is the video game business. Mirror's Edge is big time now and it needs to win, and if that means bringing aboard comic book artists, "well-known music industry producers" and Rhianna Pratchett to push it over the edge, well, that's what you do when you run for president.