Sometime last summer Ubisoft held some sort of press event that entailed flying a bunch of game writers over the Atlantic and into Venice. The purported goal of the trip, aside from the typical schmoozing the press, was to boast about the historical allegiance of Assassin’s Creed 2’s architecture. I thought it was stupid and pretentious (though I will admit the obvious envy of our site not getting an invite) and considered it just a bullshit excuse to add another bullet point to the back of the box, and, in the process, generate some press buzz. Twenty hours into the game, my opinion has greatly shifted on the matter.

Whether you want it or not, there is a ton of extraneous information detailing nearly every person you meet, painting you acquire, or place you go. While not all together different from a wikipedia entry (with some additional details embellished for the game’s fiction), what that information brings to the context greatly benefits my suspension of disbelief. History buffs might get a significantly larger boner from running into famous members of the Italian renaissance (many idiot Americans like myself could probably only identify the Medici’s and Mr. da Vinci), but it’s still cool to run into people like Caterina Sforza and then chuckle when you think that Ezio almost slept with her. Regardless, the glut of factually accurate information treats its foundation and its players with respect, which is more than I can say for the way other games bastardize history to fit their fiction (Dante’s Inferno comes to mind). Assassin’s Creed certainly takes its own liberties with history, but it does it in a manner that supports its fiction rather than exploits it.

The non playable characters are also rather impressive. In the original Assassin’s Creed they felt like fodder, or simple pawns taking up space for no other reason than to impede Altair (and constantly beg for money that didn’t exist in the game), but this time their presence in the game world actually feels justified. Hiring thieves, mercenaries, or whores to distract guards are the more obvious examples, but the otherwise mundane tasks I have seen them doing are arguably more impressive. Watching a guy chisel a sculpture, patch concrete into a wall, or hammering a structure together adds a sense of familiarity and personality to the game, like you’re roaming through a lived-in place that functions and exists before you were there, and will continue to do so after you’re gone. GTA IV’s Liberty City was much the same way, albeit in a more cohesive manner.

At no point did I ever consider collecting all the flags in Assassin’s Creed 1, but the sequel, thanks to a significant reward system, has me grabbing every collectable in sight. I’m a sucker for feather hunting, I buy every piece of art I can get my hands on, I’ve acquired all the available armor/weapons thus far, I’ve raided all the codex rooms in sight, I found all the statues at my villa, and I voraciously devour all the extraneous side missions. Races, assassinations, viewpoints, beat ups, and courier missions are usually completed before I allow myself to move onto another part of the game. The races kind of suffer at the cost of the game’s limited camera angles and button complexity, but I’m really, really enjoying the beat ups and assassinations. With the legitimate assassinations more linear and rigid than the originals fantastically open, almost improvised climaxes, the side stuff feels like it has more room for a choose-your-own-adventure method of murder. It’s quite a rush every time; identify, set your mark, find a perch, and swoop in for the kill before getting the hell or – or go in guns blazing killing everyone in sight and hoping for the better. Artificial parameters sometimes rear their head, but it’s all still a good deal of fun (and there are so many of them!)

Also of considerable surprise are the occasional alternate types of gameplay. I saw the flight sequence at Sony’s E3 conference and sort of dismissed it as a lame one-off mission and wondered why in the hell they would feature it. After doing that missions last night I still think it’s sort of weak, but it is competent, and it provides a nice break from the onslaught of missions. Same thing with the Wild West covered wagon chase on the way to Venice. I never expected missions like that in an Assassin’s Creed game, but it was actually a lot of fun in its limited inclusion. I’ve done some boat stuff so far, but I’m curious as to what else awaits in the later third of the game (or the cut portions coming soon as DLC).

Feeling the real-world elements a bit more this time too. The frequency of switching out the last time around created a disconnect between two worlds, but the majority of Ezio this time around, along with audio interjections from your real life friends, makes the experience feel like a more cohesive package. Desmond’s extended time inside the Animus also did well to support the last games ending, as well as the mid game sequence where he real life’d Ezio’s moves. “The Truth” glyphs are also especially cool, with Cam Clarke’s desperate voiceovers adding a sense of foreboding danger and upcoming mindfuckery.

Which, of course, is welcomed.

A particularly polarizing facet of Assassins Creed II (much like the original) lies with its control scheme. On foot traversal is easily the most important mechanic in the game, both in terms of context and Ezio’s move set, but assigning those typically simple functions to a bunch of buttons might not sit well with casual or impatient players; most people aren’t used to there being three distinct ways to move. Either walk fast by holding X, actually run by holding R1, or go full speed with a combination of X and R1 (which also, by the way, is used to ascend buildings in a similar manner of combinations). The latter puts most of your thumbs in play, which can be a considerable bitch if you’re doing a race and need to simultaneously align the camera toward your next checkpoint. The end result, at least in my case, was going double duty using the base of my right thumb to hit X while I moved Ezio with the top part on the right stick. The left stick was reserved for camera control, which is a pretty messed up gesture if you really think about it.

But at the heart of the matter, does an increase in input or mechanical complication create a more rewarding or immersive experience? Along the same lines, does that automatically render those games more rewarding than games with a more simple control scheme? I’ll admit that, even with the familiarity that comes with playing it for ten or so hours thus far, Ezio still gets out of control and does a ton of stuff I didn’t intend (why the game would allow me to vault off a tall building and commit suicide is a bit puzzling, “yeah I totally meant to do that!”). But at the same time, isn’t the player subject to similar faults in a simpler game, such as New Super Mario Bros? Not unlike Ezio, your fingers or error in timing are going to result in Mario eating shit a couple of times. In the case of Mario, or any well designed game, the responsibility lies with your ineptitude, rather than the controls we so often blame. Maybe it all harkens back to the basic design principle of trial and error; get it wrong until you get it right, and use then that knowledge to tread more carefully in the future. An unwillingness to adapt ourselves to controls may is irrelevant to complexity. The stubborn refusal of adaptability comes with age (just look at a self-checkout; older people refuse to even look at it while younger adults always want to give it a try), not with complex controls.

In this regard, I’m quite impressed with the way Assassin’s Creed II has handled platforming. Uncharted 2 was a great game and, from a presentation standpoint, was leaps and bounds ahead of almost anything else in interactive entertainment, but its platforming, at times,  almost felt too easy. Different colored bricks all but spelled out where you needed to go and, despite a few instances when I didn’t know I had to climb a street sign, I was rarely at loss for progression. Just point Drake toward the next grapple point and watch him go. Assassin’s Creed II make’s the same process considerably more challenging by clouding your destination a bit more. The tomb in Florence, one of six puzzle dungeons you have to raid, demonstrates the difference quite well. You need to look in 360 degrees to determine your next destination, and some non-lethal trial and error comes into play as well. Momentum is never lost, and Ezio jumps on walls, swinging chandeliers, and otherwise impossible structures all while granting a sensation of remarkable accomplishment. Back to Mario, when I reach the top of the tomb and claimed my prize it felt just like acceding the summit of Tick Tock Clock. While a learning curve is required, complex control, just like its simplified cousins, can result in an incredibly rewarding experience, provided it’s been constructed and play tested with the utmost care and precision.