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Max Payne
Format: Video Game|Change
Price:£17.97+ Free shipping with Amazon Prime


True story. I bought Max Payne and I bought a playstation. And what showed up in place of Max Payne? And what showed up in place of the playstation? A playstation. And, Max Payne. It was the wrong way 'round. Do you understand what I'm saying? In the case, a playstation. In the box, the game disc. But the playstation had been so compacted to fit it inside the game case that it was unusable -- by me, at least. It was like someone had flat-packed it expecting me to unpack it and set it up. No chance, no chance. At first I thought, ah, that's okay, a slim-line. I didn't order a slim-line but I thought, well, it's the future, get used to it. I carefully lifted it up, took huge precautions to move it across the room and settle it down gently, plugged it in, controllers in the ports, went and brewed myself some beer, came back, inspected the console, and to my horror I found that the playstation had been permanently crushed by presumably a pretty big object, like a car crusher, I mean, it was thin as a pancake. I mean, I couldn't even take it apart or open it up, it was that badly damaged. It was already like that-- I swear I didn't touch it, and nothing fell on it while I was out of the room for a few days. I switched it on -- nothing happened. I tried switching it off and on again -- didn't work; puff of smoke and a few wet sparks. That wasn't usual. I'd never seen a playstation do that on start up, I thought. So I consulted the scrunched-up manual. Couldn't decipher it -- Japanese isn't my first language. I asked my playstation friend. He confirmed and reconfirmed to me that neither the boring playstation or the slim-line playstation would ever in a million years puff smoke, hiss, or spark. I cried. It took me a week to get 'round to opening the big box over there *points with finger to the far corner of the room*. To my delight, there, in the playstation box, was the Max Payne disc. Anyway, long story short, I contacted the seller who sold me the playstation. Well, actually, if you must know, I phoned and wrote to Playstation themselves and gave them a piece of my ear. They directed me to the nearest surgery. // I went to hospital. They couldn't help. I went to my local surgery. They didn't know what to do for me, couldn't sympathise. Even I was confused by what was happening; I suspected I might even have been in the stages of a full-blown breakdown. Utterly put-out I contacted Playstation again and asked to speak to Mr Playstation, head office! They put me through to a man named Max and Max put me on hold while he filed his fingernails over a wastepaper basket and fired all of his employees who happened to be breathing at that moment within a quarter mile radius of his top-floor office. He then, and only then, took the call. "Max speaking. What is it you require? I want you to know that you are wasting my time. You don't waste my time. Do you hear? So go ahead, I'm timing you; you have ten seconds on my watch to spit out what you have to say and spit it out clearly with crystal crisp diction and without dilly-dally or I will hang up this phone." I said, Max? Who's Max? He said, "I am," he said, "and you, you're an ant, you are nothing to me." And that was it, phone went dead. I called again, and again, and again, and again. No answer, busy. When I finally got through to somebody and explained the situation to them they told me that I wasn't to call again or they would report me to the police or the highest possible law enforcement agency at Max's insistence and discretion, that I had upset Mr Max to an 'unforgiveable degree', and that he was so enraged at having been disturbed by someone 'little' like me that he'd right there and then put in a personal call to a demolition company brother of his to demand that the first-storey of the Playstation HQ office tower be razed to the ground, just to relieve some of his stress, and then he impulse-booked a flight to a tropical island for an extended stay at a health spa retreat. It didn't even enter my mind that Max was the name of the character in the game Max Payne, the disc of which I had found in the playstation box. But it also happens to be -- or was, at the time of this happening -- the name of the CEO at the Playstation Headquarters. No relation. One's a fictional character, the other is, or was, a real piece of work. Short story long, they weren't willing to refund me for the squashed playstation. It wasn't their responsibility, but the responsibility, they said, lay with the third-party seller or company that sold me the console. Or, as they had suggested before, surgery, a sort of electronics or playstation-specific surgery, could mend it. There was usually a 95% success rate, they told me. I quipped that it was more than likely certain to be an 100% failure because the technician wouldn't even know what he was looking at. And anyway they were not willing to cover the healthcare costs. I told them to apologise to Max from me for grinding his gears and that I wouldn't want to speak to me either in the status I was in. The woman on the other end of the phone said she would pass on the message, by fax -- she explained, because of his germ phobia or neuroses. This is absolutely a true story, as hard to digest as it looks. Next day, because by that point night had fallen, I contacted the seller and expressed my utter confoundment at the manglement I'd found my playstation in and the right royal reptilian mix-up of the playstation being letterboxed in the case and the disc casing the joint. They outlined to me my rights as a buyer, or more correctly, my lack of rights, because of their own independent outlandish policies, and that the bum-fluff kid who packaged my items did so with the best possible intentions, the best possible plan of action, and that he had performed to the 'totallest' of his abilities. I answered, like, that may be so, mate, but he's codged it up. How am I supposed to play this? How am I? How am I? (How am I?) The tone of this part of the conversation was like the verbal equivalent of acting boisterous, confrontational, but physically backing off -- to try and affect a resolution, a compromisation, without having to strain my voice, make sore my throat or punch the receiver. Well, it didn't pan out. In this new world of the same rules and regulations and conditions as before - only more morally and ethically centric - the bum-fluff kid was being economically efficient, ecologically-friendly and a damn good monkey. In their mind; bum-fluff boyo is right, the customer is wrong, or not anything, less than a fleck of dust posing as an ant, and bum-fluff kid is protected by the GAFTGLOOA (the Global Alliance For The Green Lions Of Our Age) and its respective clauses, codes and conducts. He'll never have to live again -- he's set up for life. If he's sacked from his current job, along comes the umbrella company of the one he works for, who own all of the other corporations and job agencies, and they will be alerted of his position, and they will putt-putt along in their road sweepers to bagsy sloppy seconds and put him to work for one of their other procurers. So there you are. I wasted my hard-earned pocket money on a console that some little herbert needlessly destroyed in his haste to save on costs and brainpower-- for the company and for himself-- never mind explaining the logic to them of using the correct and allocated packaging, the revelation that the playstation is made to perfectly fit the box and the disc is made to perfectly sit-and-click-into the case. Thankyouu! It's perfection, really. And some little herbert has to roll in a'round lunch and square a circle, circumvent Eden. As a result, I cannot review this game because I never played it and I never bothered to own a playstation ag'in. I took the disc to my playstation friend's house and he let me watch him play the game but it didn't pleasure me much -- bit gory. Freakish feverish hallucinatory nightmare scenes and dead babies and dead wives and revenge killing and poppin' painkillers -- for 15 year olds? Well, I was 15 once, not so long ago, and let me tell you, we don't go in for that sorta thing-- not since the sixties and seventies took off and was a resounding success and propagated freedom and peace and love. Who's buying your games, Rockstar? Bankruptcy's sure to follow. No one wants to play these sorts of vile mind games. Save it for the murderers and school shooters, Rockstar! (If that's even your real name.) Not really-- I played it alright. We took turns, me and my playstation friend. He took the day watch and I took the night watch; he mostly slept in the night, ate a little, snacks, raided the food cupboard, and belched the fizzy pop, farted and scratched his nose some, and I mostly slept in the day, did some of the same things he did, too; so, he button-bashed in the day, I button-bashed at night -- under the covers, the covers draped over the TV, over my head, in my own sick world. Eventually, I got bored and went outside early morning to suck in some air to keep my lungs in business, y'know, working properly, and to tan my pallid skin, and whilst there, outside, in nature, I discovered something within myself that I hadn't known before or for a long time-- whilst cooped-up in cage-land, thinking in the box --and I never went back indoors after that, not for more than five minutes at a time; life outside became the new excitement, the new enchantment, the new black, the new hypotheses. Oh lord, baby Jesus! I am free! And my friend, my playstation friend, eventually, he died. Yeah. First he got what is termed as gamers' thumbs, so he had to use his fingers, well they crippled quick, I always say they got the same idea as his thumbs, it's not natural for the body to do these things with technology, the technology isn't catered to us or consciously considerate of our limitations, and then he had to use his knuckles like paws and it was a sad state to see him get like that and then it was his wrists and he got gamers' wrists so bad they snapped clean back on themselves and finally he was up to his elbows -- literally, too, in filth -- not washing, not vacuuming the place, not paying bills, just whacking away at the controls with his bony elbows night and day and his eyes were all bloodshot from the below-average blinking he was doing and he just withered away. It's really sad. Even half the scenario is sad, but the extreme... Pew! I've known people to die from heart attacks from playing videogames too long. It's insane. That and a combination of, it's bluely true, no sleep, energy drinks and too much fun -- too much artificiality with their fun. Like fries wit' that. Fries, made from fake potatoes that don't break down by the modern standards or the ancient standards of the stomach acids, and 'that' -- whatever that is. I don't know what that is. What is that?! Eww! Oh don't worry, it's just a lettuce leaf -- it's just nature, you know, that thing that's going on outside your house, under your feet, under shoes, and under the foundations of your house, and one day it will be your house -- your house will be ultimately reclaimed, as the ultimate reclaiment of reclamation! That thing y'r staving off. Sorry. (Don't worry.) (It'll never happen-- in y'r life-time.)
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VINE VOICEon 5 August 2007
Set in the dark and menacing back alleys of New York during the century's worst blizzard, this is a terrific game that received plaudits on its release. I keep going back and playing it, and even now it doesn't date. What makes Max Payne especially good is the mix of action, a twisting clever plotline told with storyboards and voiceovers, and dream sequences that draw you into the character's despair and inner struggles.

Max Payne is like an interactive action-packed Hollywood movie. Ok, the graphics aren't up to par with the latest computer technologies, but they are of a high standard and exceptional for its time. The story is compelling, if sometimes a little difficult to follow, and once you start playing it, you don't want to stop. You want to know what's around the next corner, and where the story will turn next.

The game encourages loyalty by not becoming so increasingly difficult that you lose the will to keep trying. It's a very satisfying shooter, that is thoroughly enjoyable and highly recommended!

By the way, this is actually rated 15, not 18 as it says in the Amazon review.
One person found this helpful
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on 7 May 2002
There have been a number of comparisons to middle of the road, fairly mindless 1st person shoot 'em ups. Missing the point is a mild way to express my point of view.
Simply put, Max Payne is Goldeneye for adults. It is thick with plot and the experience plays somewhere betwen a game and a movie. It's less about enjoying bashing a key pad and more about enjoying an interactive story line.
Bullet time is a fantastic addition to the art of video gaming and I hope I see a lot more of it. If you have ever seen a John Woo film and enjoyed it, you will be particularly impressed when you see one of the bad guys spend a few fractions of a second frozen in time as you riddle his body with 100 rounds from your duel ingrams.
They say they are talking about making a film based on this game. Until then, I'm happy playing my way through it myself and dishing out the revenge.
Feel the Payne.
8 people found this helpful
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on 10 January 2016
An old school classic game for the playstation. I went through Amazon to find all the old games i use to love playing and came across this little gem. It was packaged well and exactly as described. The cd was scratch free too.
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on 20 September 2016
Thanks
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on 10 December 2017
Tried on a fully working ps2 and booted to a black screen.
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on 22 January 2016
Maxpayne.. nuff said
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on 10 September 2014
My 'sold as new' game was covered in scratches, did not come with a disc booklet/manual. They simply took an old item and stuck it in a sealed bag. How can they sleep at night. Stay well clear. . .
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on 9 October 2002
From the first level this game immerses you into a dark world where the atmosphere is just spot on. Think of the movies Seven and Trainspotting for the dark mood and you're about there...
This was one of those games where it didn't matter what else I had available to play at the time, this was the only disk in my PS2 from start to end.
While the graphics and gameplay are good, they are not perfect. However, this matters little when the plot forces you to play 'one more level' just to see what happens next. Also, the game is challenging enough without being frustratingly so, so you don't need to attempt certain levels ten times until you crack it, not do you need to wander around a level for half an hour before you figure out what you need to do next. Some would say this is too easy, but I play games like this for fun. If I wanted a tax my brain really hard I'd try a Times crossword.
To summarise, Great Game, Great Atmosphere, Looks Good and the unique 'Bullet time' adds a new twist to an old genre.
Go get the bad guys Max. And watch your back!
3 people found this helpful
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on 2 March 2002
Heard a lot about this game on the PC. Read the reviews. Saw the screenshots. Giggled like a fool when I heard it coming to the PS2. Great. Finally time to hear what all the PC mags have been crowing about...
'Disppointed' doesn't quite sum up my feelings toward the game.
What kind of films & tv do these game reviewers watch? Are they all raised on a strict diet of Kevin Costner, Richard Chamberlain and Eastenders? I assume this must be the case because all the reviews I read whittered on about the 'cinematic' environments and alluded to a plot filled with 'dramatic tension', BOTH of which are conspicuous by their absence.
The plot, such as it is, is late night Channel 5-type drek. Laughable.
But good games don't sink or float based on their believability, do they? No. It is "just a game" after all...
So far, I have completed the first level and found that repetitive enough not to bother persevering. Why?
Photo-realistic graphics do NOT a good game make. 'Jet Set Radio' is -- thankfully -- at the opposite end of the 'reality' spectrum, yet the gameplay is far more engaging. And that's the problem with 'Max Payne'a nd so many other games; playability/gameplay suffer because too much time appears to have been spent on flashy graphics. There are plenty of games that get the balance about right (GT3, GTA3, Dropship, Red Faction) so no excuses about development time/costs, please.
What I fear most about this game is that my dislike of it is based on the PS2 conversion, rather than the game itself. This does not bode well for the raft of other titles scheduled for conversion but te aforementioned 'Red Faction' shows that it can be done and done WELL.
If what I have read is true about 'The Matrix' game using a similar look/feel, I imagine it will be far easier to control a game designed primarily for the console market. Fingers crossed!
MUST TRY HARDER.
FOR: Nice Idea. Erm... that's it.
AGAINST: Clunky control method (on the PS2). Poor frame rate (screenshots look great but it's a bit of a dog when it's moving). Terrible voice acting (take a note from GTA3's book).
2 people found this helpful
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