Garrett doesn't need a sneaking sidekick. I don't need a sneaking sidekick. Stealth is a solitary adventure. Characters come and go for the sake of narrative and theater, but when it's time to get down to the dance of detection, they're left behind. For good reason: nothing gets me to hit “Quit” faster than a wayward ally barging into a carefully planned route, or blowing my position with the umpteenth complaint of “C'mon, we gotta move! ”
Starting a new game handed me an easy grab-and-bag as part of a linear tutorial on basic thievery. I found myself in a quiet wooden attic. Dust motes filtered through the soft glow of an evening sun peeking through board slats and narrow windows. Birdcages hung haphazardly from the ceiling in dark chains, their feathery occupants eyeing me with beady looks. The whole thing looked like a crude obstacle course, which it definitely was, but I suppose slamming a “Don't Make Noise” sign in my face wouldn't be as subtle.
