Jak II is a sequel. You probably could have guessed that without being told, but it never hurts to have all the facts laid out, does it? It is the sequel to a game called Jak and Daxter, which was a sweet and kind-hearted little thing that made a sweet and kind-hearted little splash during the 2001 holiday season. Jak II is neither sweet nor kind-hearted.

Jak and Daxter starred a young elf named Jak and his pet, a talking rat named Daxter. Together they had grand adventures after the fashion of Mario and Yoshi, or maybe after the fashion of Banjo and Kazooie. They jumped on boxes and climbed up mountains and collected glowing orbs and they jumped and they jumped and they jumped some more. They had what is called a "platform" adventure. If you are a regular reader in this space you do not need another primer on platform games. If you are new around these parts, go have a look at Super Mario or Crash Bandicoot before reading any further.

Okay, good. Now everyone knows about platform games. Jak II is not a platform game. At least it is not the pure bouncy happyfun sort of thing the word "platform" usually brings to mind. It is darker and more sinister. Its heart is colder. It has abandoned the traditional doe-eyed grin for a sneer. None of this sounds all that appealing, true. But it may be the best thing to happen to video games since Intellivision.

In Jak and Daxter, the rat did all the talking and Jak just kind of bounced along, helpfully doing all the work. He was an archetype, really: a strong, silent, good-natured elf whose greatest strengths were

a) twirling around with his fists out, and
b) bursting crates open.

As the new game begins, however, things turn very ugly very fast. Jak and Daxter find themselves transported to a strange dark city, where evil guards dressed in red promptly arrest poor Jak and haul him off to prison. Then he is tortured. Repeatedly. For two years.

When the rat finally finds him and busts him loose, Jak has understandably lost some of the spring from his step. He is angry and his body doesn't work quite right, and he is practically shaking with bloodlust and thirst for revenge. He talks. So right away we get the feeling things here in the sequel are going to be a little different from the way they were the first time around.

Our suspicions are justified. We do some standard jumping-from-box-to-ledge-to-box stuff on our way out of the jailhouse, but the moment we set foot on the city's streets, all the bouncing gives way to, well, the city. The laneways and canals stretch on for miles, and we can wander anywhere we please. Aircars drive past overhead. Pedestrians teem everywhere. The feared evil red guards keep close watch. The whole thing feels terribly familiar and not at all platformy.

Then, when we learn that all those hovering aircars are ours for the taking, when we realize that carjacking one and tossing its driver over the side is as simple as tapping a button, it hits us: the thing is Grand Theft Auto with elves and a talking rat. What a brilliant idea.

Making our way across the city, we meet the underground resistance fighters who want to take the town back from the vile Baron (who, coincidentally, was the same vile Baron who spent two years torturing Jak). They give us missions, which sometimes see us bouncing and collecting just like old times, but which other times see us armed with enormous guns and blasting the bejeepers out of anything that stands in our way. There are a dozen kinds of game here, and all of them are urgent and excellent. We race, we shoot, we fight, we jump, we seethe. We want our revenge. We shall have it.

It feels somehow wrong, all this darkness and pain let into the land of bouncing and sunshine. But imagine how Mario would cope if they spent two years torturing him.