S.T.A.L.K.E.R.: Clear Sky is a prequel to Shadow of Chernobyl which came out a year or three ago and I loved dearly. The game is set in an alternate version of the area around the Chernobyl nuclear power plant that exploded in 198something. The resulting radiation created an area which is known as the Zone, and has had some decidedly odd effects on its denizens, including, but not limited to: giant boars with glowing eyes; odd pointy-legged pigs with glowing eyes; large tentacle-mouthed invisible things with glowing eyes; and horrifying dog/gargoyle hybrids that mess with your mind. And have glowing eyes.

Not that I’m complaining about the glowing eyes — on the contrary, they were often the only thing that saved my skin from a horrible fate while running through the radiated forest cursing my jammed rifle and stabbing viciously at the quick save key. The tentacle-mouthed guys in particular are completely invisible except for the eyes, and I shudder to think how many more times I would have ended up a tumor-ridden corpse lying in a pocket of radiation were it not for those glowing orbs.

Speaking of corpses, this game is hard. Veteran of shooters that I am, I arrogantly thought myself pro enough to start the game on medium difficulty. An hour later I had retreated whimpering to the ‘novice’ setting, frantically stuffing gauze into the gaping wounds in my skull.

To a degree, this is fine. It can even be a refreshing change from the guns-blazing approach encouraged by many shooters. A game which actually makes you sweat about leaving cover provides a level of immersion and intensity that most other games lack.

However, there’s realism and then there’s realism. When realism is taken to the point where the quick save button becomes as important to your progress as the fire button, a line has probably been crossed. The line which separates fun (“Thank God for quicksaves, hardy-har-har”) and suicidal insanity (“I am LEEEEROOOY JENKINS!!! BWAHAHAHAHA!”).

Clear Sky frequently crossed this line. There was a point near the beginning which requires the player to sprint past a military base while dodging fire from a machine gun nest, Steve McQueen style. This is all well and good until you factor in that your enemies have been mysteriously blessed with near-godlike accuracy. I died upwards of twenty times trying to navigate those cursed hundred yards (cue the Leroy Jenkins effect). This is the point where a game stops being challenging (read: fun), and starts being maddening, aka Contra.

However, after that point the game eased up a bit and the difficulty was a bit steadier. At its best, Clear Sky is an incredibly atmospheric, intense and creepy experience that completely immerses your gaming senses. The sky darkens, the creatures howl, the Geiger counter clicks ominously, and you are there. These are the times when I am wholly in love with the game for the same reason I was wholly in love with Shadow of Chernobyl.

Unfortunately, while at many times I had flashbacks to Shadow of Chernobyl (sometimes literally, as much of Clear Sky covers the exact same area), the prequel does not take nearly enough cues from its sequel. Gone are the truly terrifying moments spent underground where mysterious forces plagued your senses. Gone is the sense of being a part of a living, breathing, working world which operates on a set of rules at once oddly familiar and frighteningly foreign. Gone is the constant sense of being part of something bigger than you can fully understand.

Unfortunately, these elements are all replaced by a jerky plot with an infuriatingly disappointing ending, not nearly enough time spent in mysteriously atmospheric areas, and too many survival/horror-esque moments. The horror is replaced by frustration, and survival is replaced by your corpse bleeding out onto the turf. Over and over and over.

To wrap up this review 0f a mostly great game, Clear Sky is indeed worth a look. Like its predecessor, it is very atmospheric most of the time and occasionally manages to be great fun. If you can get past the severe lack of polish and a few bugs, you will at times be completely sucked into the immersing world that is the Zone.

Right before you get shot.

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.