Here's a list of things that shouldn't be put in caves: parrots, solar panels, ex-girlfriends, formerly successful open-world games set on Mars. Because this time Red Faction isn't set on Mars exactly, it's set in it, which is more of a problem than you might think.
The last Red Faction was an open world smash-fest, a sort of red planet GTA with plenty of missions, a range of challenges, and big space vehicles to drive around. Here, all that's been cut in favour of an entirely linear action game that spends 90% of its running time underground in a series of identical caves. Playing as Darius Mason, a man who unwittingly unleashed a race of killer bugs on the underground colonists (um, woops), you must try to find out what happened and, inevitably, how to stop it. Here's a clue: it has a lot to do with killing bugs.
It's third-person action, and as in Guerilla, the hook is your ability to destroy things with a big hammer and then repair them with a sort of magic glove - taking apart a whole bridge, say, then rebuilding it when you need it again. In the open-world setting of the previous game, this introduced a strategic edge and a lot of fun: why waste your ammo trying to kill all the enemies inside a building when you can just tear the whole structure down on top of them? That doesn't really work in the claustrophobic nooks and crannies of Armageddon's caves though, so you're left half-heartedly smashing things for salvage that lets you buy upgrades. That is, until you realise how uninspiring these upgrades are. Extra health, you say? What a game changer.
Also uninspiring is Darius himself. The grandson of Red Faction: Guerilla's Alec Mason, he's inherited all of his ancestor's genetic code: he's bald, he's loud, he's toting a massive hammer, and he's outstandingly bland. The main characters are only distinguishable because one's white, one wears a hood, and one's got boobs. Otherwise they all look like boiled eggs with faces drawn on them, and have the personalities to match. It's a mercy that you can skip the cut-scenes; sadly, skipping the banal in-game banter isn't an option.
Like a pest-control worker mad on his own poison supplies, you spend most of your time just shooting bugs. So many bugs. Bugs that occasionally look like necromorphs, sometimes look like the result of unprotected sex between a gibbon and a hedgehog, and frequently put up more tentacles than you'd find in a Japanese porno stash. You go into an area, get an instruction to break or repair something, and then you're guaranteed a deluge of enemies to kill. Don't even think about legging it, either: you won't be allowed to leave that section until you've cleared it. Sometimes you do it in a mech suit, sometimes in a giant spidery walker thing, but however you clear the critters out, it gets old real fast - especially as there are only five or six main types.
Even that wouldn't be so bad if there was a bit more oomph in the armoury. You get the standard stuff (pistols, assault rifle, shotgun, rocket launcher) plus futuristic nano-weapons that disintegrate solid objects and enemies alike, and a magnet gun that enables you to yank bits of scenery from one point to another. Sounds like a blast, but they just don't feel as powerful as they should, especially against bigger enemies, while dissolving stuff with the nano beam and nano blaster turns out to be a big yawn.
Even the rare set-pieces are tedious. One has you riding a big vehicle called an excavator through a tunnel, while continuously rebuilding cover and shooting enemies. Great, except you can only do one of those things at a time. Strategy goes out the window: you just have to press R1 to fire, and pray. The samey environments add to the feeling of anti-climax. Whether you're being chased by a big walker (through a tunnel) or manning a gun on a slow-moving barge (in a tunnel), only the red rock and lava make it obvious that you're not playing a spelunking sim set in the Lake District. The showdowns with the two main bosses hold no surprises, and the final battle is basically a slightly more exciting version of a loading bar.
Survive that and finish the game (which takes about eight hours), and you're rewarded with the best thing about Armageddon: an unlockable treat in the form of Mr. Toots, the rainbow-farting killer unicorn. Yes, really. He adds a touch of personality that's woefully absent from the rest of the game, but the problem is that, having slogged through once, you won't want to do it again, even with a magical horsey alongside you.
It's a shame because the series' PS3 debut was so strong, with ingenious competitive multiplayer and a huge open playground. Maybe the linear route was cheaper, but the lesson is if you want to go to Mars, don't do it on a budget.