Yeah, the cover system seems to genuinely be simply another possible approach; for those who like popamole, they can go with it if they feel it's comforting. For those who don't, other approaches are equally viable. We'll see how that holds up, but as long as the entire game isn't built around pressing the awesome button to pop in and out of cover with appropriate AI behaviour and the developers respect my intelligence enough to believe that I might be able to stand behind a wall to avoid being shot without an entire system devoted to helping me do so, I don't have an issue with it.
Also, keeping up with the wonderful 5hitman's Creed: Conviction information:
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It may sound as if the Hitman has become very easy, but it need not be. "One of the problems with old hitman game was that unless you were an expert in the game, would you look like a real little killer," says Tore Blystad. "This time it's not hard to be a good assassin. Instead, it's hard to keep the situation under control, and hold yourself back from going berserk. We'd rather try to tempt the stealthy players to go into a more action -oriented direction. "
Here we see one of the first innovations in the game that probably will immediately get a mixed reception from the series' fans. For while Hitman sits in hiding behind a bookcase, the ambient colors suddenly dim, and the ushers will light up in a golden glow, so you can see their entire figure through walls and other obstacles. A bright line in the floor shows the route the nearest cop follows - with a direct path to Hitman.
I want to hope. I do. But I feel like an abused red-headed stepchild. His huge, leering stepdad is staggering in from the pub menacingly, beating his fist against his palm and searching for his bat. Last month, he came home sober, and we played in the garden for hours. It was so much fun. I want to cling to that memory, I do; he's the same man, isn't he? Deep down? But things have changed. His job is wearing him down. He doesn't have time to be a good dad any more. They demand everything they can get of him, and if that changes him, warps him... what's it to them? The stress is so great that he sometimes comes home with a buddy, dressed up in ridiculous costumes and calling themselves Mr Kane and Mr Lynch and double-teaming your poor mother. The horror, the horror, and all you want is his old self back. Mr Kane is funny for a while, but he's not a patch on that dad you played football with for so long, that dad who always let you win one kick out of three just to make you feel like you were getting better without letting you take anything for granted. And he's shouting, oh, he's shouting that daddy's home, that's it time for some catching up on in the garden... but you've never heard of any variant of football involving that thick, stained baseball bat he's now patiently tapping off his palm. You want to hope, but can you? Can you really? Might that not just make it hurt all the more?