Dishonored gives you weapons — there's even a sort of matchlock pistol. But Corvo's equipment more often takes the form of tools, nudging you towards thoughtful tactics. Using Corvo's arsenal and constantly finding new ways to employ it and the supernatural abilities you can unlock made me feel smart, offering a sense of reward above the option of brute force.

Brute force and direct violence are an option, and not just as a means of giving you enough rope to hang yourself with. Arkane wants you to experiment, to push. Dishonored doesn't so much provide direction as it does useful information. Eavesdropping on conversations between NPCs might provide an alternate route into a structure, and a sharp eye could reveal an aerial approach not immediately apparent.

It's stunning how non-structured everything in Dishonored can appear from a level-design perspective, but as you experiment with your approach and case your targets, it's clear how much thought went into possible player action. Dishonored establishes a language of player possibility, fostering a "why not" attitude instead of focusing on relentless objective-driven design. Corvo has to take down the figures who set him up, as well as their benefactors, but whether that means death or a more poetic end is up to you. (continued below)