It’s been a while since I’ve played a game that’s left me as conflicted as “Alpha Protocol” has. On the one hand, it’s nothing like I expected it to be; but on the other hand, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. On one foot it’s a rather sub-par RPG shooter; on the other foot it’s a fascinating choice-driven narrative. On one bicep it’s not nearly as mucky as I was fearing, content-wise; on the other bicep, the few issues it does have are extremely … issuey.

The game begins with your character, Michael Thorton, waking up from a drugged coma strapped to a medical examination table. It quickly becomes apparent as you begin to make your escape that the whole setup is an elaborate test of your spy-ness. It’s also the only area of the game you’re likely to get through without having to kill anyone, making it really the only area of the game where you’re likely to play as an actual spy. But more on that later.

After passing this test, a crotchety old commanding officer runs you through some rigmarole about how to make friends and influence people, and then ships you off to Saudi Arabia with the intention of using bullets to mangle terrorists’ faces.

This being a spy thriller, none of this goes as planned and you’re quickly thrown into a twisty, snakey story full of government betrayal, mistaken identity and cloaked daggers. You’re working for Alpha Protocol, a government organization so secret that even those who know about it aren’t sure they know about it. The whole thing feels like the writers of the game spent their break time watching reruns of “24” and playing “Splinter Cell.” Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, just not entirely original.

What is original, in application if not in design, is the level of control over the narrative that the dialogue system offers. When presented with an opportunity for conversation, you choose a stance (aggressive, suave, or professional, typically, but the options change based on the context) for your response rather than a spelled-out dialogue choice, a la Mass Effect but with more frustrating vagueness. It’s amplified by a timer that limits the amount of pondering you can do over your response. At times you’ll have only a second or two to react and make a split second decision. It goes a long way toward increasing the intensity of dialogue situations, particularly ones that occur in flashpoints, where the decision you make will determine who lives and who dies.

It’s not perfect, but it rarely feels artificial. The only real complaint is that it’s difficult to know at times what some options will do. One time I walked into the bar and started chatting with an old Russian man, my informant for the area. Being a tender, caring sort of a spy, I asked him about his health and told him about my situation, politely asking if he could assist in any way. He then asked me what I wanted, and the word “bottle” appeared in my response options. Intrigued, I clicked it only to be shocked and horrified with my tender, caring character grabbed a bottle of vodka off the counter and smashed it across the old man’s face.

I thought I was going to pour him a drink! And now he was bleeding out all over the counter while I make snide remarks about alcoholism and how good I looked in aviators.

“Interrogate” might have been a better word choice, Obsidian. Now I’ve got guilt …

The game does offer substantial player control over how the story plays out and how you’re character is perceived. Unfortunately, there’s no getting away from the fact that Michael is a bit of a smarmy cad. The voice actor behind Thorton does a decent job most of the time, but when his attempts at classic Bond nonchalance come off as less debonair and more whiny teenager. And the “suave” diaologue option usually results in something less charming and more “get away from my daughter, you pervert!”

The end result was I wasn’t able to play as the calm, cool, collected Cary Grant sort of a spy I had been hoping for.

I wasn’t really able to play a spy at all. The stealth mechanics in the game are largely broken; Enemy AI is at times omnipotent and at other times hopelessly oblivious. Stealth is rarely the most effective way to deal with a problem, and often the least enjoyable. There are moments when the game feels a lot like “Splinter Cell,” but you never feel as cool or capable as Sam Fisher.

This wouldn’t be so bad if the shooting mechanics weren’t so rough. The game has a cover system, but it only works when it feels like it. The whole combat system in general is just rather chunky. While it’s reminiscent of “Mass Effect 2,” it’s nowhere near as slick or satisfying.

Also, Michael’s crouch-run is just painful to watch. Sam Fisher’s signature stalk might be unrealistic, but at least he doesn’t look like a very odd dog with its tail between its legs all the time.

Different characters will like or dislike you depending on your choices in dialogue and gameplay. This is nothing new, but Obsidian mixes things up here a bit by ensuring that there are no ‘wrong’ choices. No matter what type of character you choose to play there are gameplay benefits (i.e. making your handler love you will provide a bonus, but so will making her hate you). Either way, the choices you make will dramatically affect how other characters respond to you down the road. There’s not a ‘bad’ way or a ‘right’ way. There’s just the type of person you want to be and the consequences attached to those decisions.

It’s intriguing. The game doesn’t foist a morality system upon you; rather, it presents morally gray situations and rather believable consequences to choose from. Being a saint or a sinner with both get you to the end of the game with the day saved … but will you be able to sleep at night afterward?

As much as I’ve been harping on the irritating niggles, none of these stopped me from starting over immediately after the credits rolled. It says a lot about the quality of the branching narrative that it overcomes many of the game’s shortcomings.

However, issues on the content side prevent me from recommending the game, or from finishing it myself a second time.

The level of violence is expected in a game like this and is similar to what you would get in one of the latest “Splinter Cell” games. Intense and brutal at times, but never overly gory or horrific.

Language pops up throughout; f-bombs fall at awkward, random times as if the writers got through the script and realized they’d written something awesome but had forgotten to lace it with profanity, and then went back and stuck it in at odd places. Disappointing.

On my first play-through, I was relieved to discover that the sexual content from previews was largely absent. You can bed a few of the female characters throughout the game, but it’s optional and there’s nothing graphic (a kiss before a fade to black). Nothing praiseworthy or necessary to the game, but at least it’s something you could let your spouse watch without a marriage counselor on speed dial.

All of this tameness is more than made up for, however, in one short scene that occurs toward the end of the game if the player chooses a particular female to be his handler for a mission. You find yourself once against strapped to an examination table, unable to move while the woman takes sexual advantage of your bound state. The scene contains no nudity and fades for the actual act, but is still wincingly graphic. It’s borderline rape, and if the gender roles had been reversed there’s no way it would have made it into the game without bumping the rating up to Adult.

This alone knocks it solidly into the blacklist. There’s absolutely no justification for that level of graphic sexuality in a game, especially when it adds zilch to the story and does nothing for character development except make you feel slightly dirty about everyone involved.

So, what does all that say?

“Alpha Protocol” is a fascinating experiment in choice-based narrative that works well enough to overcome the game’s many design flaws. Unfortunately, content issues including harsh language and cringe-inducing sexual situations make this a game I can’t recommend.

Obsidian has put out some great games, and they’ve got some good-looking stuff coming down the pipe. I really hope the results aren’t all such a mixed bag, and that someone with a better taste in content takes charge.

Jerod Jarvis is an independent gaming journalist and founder of Duality Games. He maintains gaming columns for The Washington Times Communities and for The Outpost. When not blogging madly about games, he freelances for the Spokesman-Review in his hometown of Spokane, Washington and attends school at Whitworth University. Check out his presence on Facebook and Twitter to stay up on Duality Games updates and the inside scoop on the gaming news you care about.