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There exists a short but distinguished list of sequels that improve upon the originals. Attempts to continue a popular narrative or return to beloved characters are often underwhelming, unfocused facsimiles. Meandering disappointments mired in shameless cash-grabbing, possessed of all the integrity of a damp newspaper.
I can think of only two continuations that utterly eclipse their predecessors. The first is of course The Empire Strikes Back, a succinct masterclass in raising stakes and achieving goals. The second is this, often and deservedly ranked among various The Legend of Zelda and Final Fantasy installments as the greatest video games of all time.
The first act of Portal 2, with the exception of a brief expository introduction, follows approximately the same beats as the entire original game. In both, the player steps into the mute, shock-absorbent shoes of Chell, a lab rat in the bare white corridors of the Aperture Science Enrichment Centre. She is guided by the prim disembodied voice of GLaDOS, the all-seeing AI who runs the facility like a Swiss watch. Your task is ostensibly to use the portal gun (more properly, the Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device) to complete a test chamber, acquiring a heavy box (Aperture Science Weighted Storage Cube) to drop on a button (Fifteen-Hundred-Megawatt Aperture Science Heavy Duty Supercolliding Super Button) to open the door to the next chamber.
Chell is not permitted to take vital testing apparatus with her, of course. GLaDOS cannot allow her scientific rigor to be compromised by foreign elements. Each entry and exit is equipped with a force field that disintegrates unauthorised equipment and closes all portals. The Aperture Science Material Emancipation Grill ("which may, in semi-rare cases, emancipate dental fillings, crowns, tooth enamel and teeth") appears later on within test chambers as a obstacle to be overcome. There lurks a dark, dark heart to the these games behind a clinically clean exterior. Spend an afternoon on their TV Tropes page. You won't regret it.
Each test regimen begins with an extended tutorial so obvious and telegraphed it barely registers as such. GLaDOS gradually introduces new puzzle elements: lasers and switches, using the momentum of a fall and carefully placed portals to leap to higher ground, a firing range for live turrets, all designed to stretch the limits of your spacial thinking and definitely not designed to kill the test subject.
As the original game progresses, a feeling of solitude begins to weigh down on Chell. Physically, she is utterly alone in the rooms of endless pristine white. She is accompanied only by dry form-letter encouragement from GLaDOS, whose guidance slowly shifts from somewhat glitchy to downright suspicious to overtly murdery. Though all Aperture Science equipment remains safely functional up to 4000 Kelvin, the same cannot be said for the test subjects. Upon completing the test regimen Chell escapes the Victory Incandescence Chamber into the bowels of the facility. Undeterred by promises of cake and trauma therapy, Chell eventually engages, defeats and unplugs GLaDOS.
The essence of an excellent sequel is striking a balance between new and old. Existing elements should be reprised, but distinct differences must be introduced. Like the stark, clinical white of the Enrichment Centre, the original soundtrack is almost ascetic in its simplicity. Constant beeping arpeggios upon layers of sawing synthesisers are an early indicator that something is not quite right. An air of menace foreshadows any eventual actual malevolence. The sequel soundtrack takes these cues and pushes them so much further. The simple addition of a dramatic string section along with an expanded synth palette can be combined to evoke the many moods required by such a character-driven story. The dread of uncovering widespread industrial chaos. The panic of reviving an effectively omnipotent enemy. The despair of finding oneself at wit's end. But also the joy of discovering new ideas. The excitement of succeeding where you have previously failed. And of course the thrill of looking at death on the face and laughing. It is as if Aphex Twin and Nine Inch Nails were merged into one and shot up with a healthy dose of adrenaline.
Portal 2 begins with the introduction of a new character. Wheatley the scrappy little personality core awakens Chell from centuries of cryogenic storage to evacuate the collapsing ruins of the Aperture Science Enrichment Centre. His charming Bristol-accented babblings do little to disguise that despite his good intentions, he is not the sharpest bulb in the box, as demonstrated when he accidentally reboots GLaDOS while escorting you up to the surface.
She did not take kindly to being deactivated. Now overtly malevolent, she disposes of Wheatley and forces Chell to resume her tests. ("We both said a lot of things that you're going to regret. But I think we can put our differences behind us. For science. You monster.") Deliciously bitter, GLaDOS's antagonism surpasses the compelling: it is iconic. ("Sorry about the mess. I've really let the place go since you killed me.")
No villain spits crueler, more biting sarcasm than she. ("Well done. Here come the test results: you are a horrible person. I'm serious, that's what it says: a horrible person. We weren't even testing for that." "Don't let that 'horrible person' thing discourage you. It's just a data point. If it makes you feel any better, science has now validated your birth mother's decision to abandon you on a doorstep.") Nobody better balances the imperiousness of cleaning up the entire ruined facility with the pettiness of sniping at Chell. ("Look at you, sailing through the air majestically. Like an eagle. Piloting a blimp.") The imbalance of power is striking. GLaDOS is entirely capable of spending the rest of Chell's life sadistically watching her crawl around the facility, attempting in vain to escape, all the while providing valuable data for whatever abstruse tests she decides on a whim to carry out. And indeed this is exactly what GLaDOS plans to do.
Of course, a second comeuppance is due. Chell locates GLaDOS and wrenches her from her sockets. Wheatley makes a reappearance and installs himself as the new caretaker, and to add insult to injury, compacts GLaDOS into a potato battery. Finding himself in charge of the entire facility comes as quite a shock to a tiny little personality core, and he finds himself gloating haughtily. It is at this point that GLaDOS reveals a vital detail about Wheatley's identity. He is in fact an intelligence-dampening core, designed for the express purpose of churning out a constant stream of bad ideas. He was attached to GLaDOS when she flooded the Enrichment Centre with deadly neurotoxin to make her stop flooding the Enrichment Centre with deadly neurotoxin. He is the greatest moron ever created. Wheatley, incensed at the insult and driven mad with his newfound power, plunges the two deep into the bowels of the facility. So ends act one.
Cowed and afraid, PotatOS dispenses with the passive-aggression and proposes an alliance with Chell — in exchange for reinstalling her, Chell will be free to finally leave the facility. This is the carrot. The stick is that by ignoring all safety protocols and disengaging all failsafe mechanisms, Wheatley is causing the facility to go into nuclear meltdown. Seeing as PotatOS literally doesn't have the energy to lie, Chell accepts the offer. They escape the ancient disused bowels of the Enrichment Centre, then navigate Wheatley's own crude testing arena and of course succeed in all their endeavours.
From the endless white corridors to the pitch-black humour, from the ingenious puzzle design to the superlative voice acting, it's all about atmosphere. And on that count, along with every other, Portal 2 is a raging success.