Brawny, burly, and beefy, Marcus Fenix and his bros are an abnormally thick necked posse of gun totting, testosterone jacked numbskulls. Only jibes and retorts are sputtered from their mouths, and the sole emotion mustered on their thick skinned faces is either resolute anger or pinched indifference. Even then, it only appears when these guys have crushed a thousand Locusts underfoot. Just like its predecessor, Gears of War 2 simply relishes in its dimwitted machismo.

Though not all manpower, forced upon the mix is an overarching emotional thread that’s shoved between the butchest of the butch. Blood and guts, sweat and power, but also a heap of overwrought sentiment is piled on through the clumsiest of love stories.

Apparently someone thinks that players are easily stirred, because shoved down your throat with a heavy hand is Dom’s emotionally sterile search for his lost wife. Most unfortunate is that, rich with potential, this beautifully dishevelled world deserves and begs for something better – beyond bromance and ham fisted subplots.

But not to digress, as it hasn’t taken away from the rip-roaring fundamentals. Away from that clutter, Epic’s sequel is happily resting on its laurels. It’s undoubtedly conservative, but an unassailable formula has been instilled with refinement and mostly favourable variety. Then again it’s hardly elusive to fault, either.

Though a graphical wonderment, the original Gears of War was ever so focused and enclosed to smaller encounters. By being unchained from establishing new fangled mechanics and technology, Epic has a fresh slate to tear down the walls and allow the basics to ring with immensity. Hundreds of enemies onscreen at once and towering bosses, even the lumbering Marcus Fenix appears to be a complete spec in these boundless encounters. But what worked so well before is hardly forgotten.

In keeping with what it does best, you and your Locust enemies use cover fervently, and the majority of the carnage plays up close and visceral. Since the system has been ironed out to a wholly intuitive point, picking cover is razor sharp in split second decisions. And again you’re matched neck and neck with enemies: they’ll take cover, flank, and punish your mistakes to no end. Like a demented Lord of the Rings pumped with roids, the Locust infantry now ride on the backs of feral beasts, oversized explosive beetles irk your brittle cover, and Shamanic priests revive the dead. Simply, anything you expect from a skirmish is continually turned on its head. And, from the outset, the appeal is unerringly instant.

However, death does reveal some imperfectly dispersed checkpoints. Occasionally you’ll be thrown back far enough that pedantic repetition begins to take shape. A bit too rigid, there is no margin for error.

Like finger paintings on the wall of variety, anything outside of what the original set in stone doesn’t come entirely into form. A vehicle section rears its disparately detached head, and through forcing a drastic change in pace, it throws the flow far off kilter. Bearing no resemblance or feel to anything else within the experience, this roar through the mountainside atop a roving tank feels like a dull afterthought from an entirely different game.

But when the time comes round to climb aboard a bad Locust beast or two, the experience is far more engrained and steeped within the continuity of the environment, not to mention the sense of scale is entirely tangible. That much dallied over sprawling spectacle is at its most affecting with a punchy in and out – let the awe resonate, for that brief instant, and then move on.

In a highly scripted fashion, boss battles, though infrequent, are far too finicky and sink into an extremely linear rulebook of events. At one point, you’re faced with dodging falling pillars, but somehow these towers of stone have minds of their own. As the columns fall they literally track and follow your every move, hell-bent on crushing you under a heap of rubble. Last time I checked, stone isn’t sentient. The man behind the curtain reveals his hand and pokes you with blatant attempts at nonsensical difficulty, which turn to frustration rather than challenge.

Void of emotional interest, yet brimming with mechanics that have been impeccably refined, the campaign suffers the same problems as its predecessor. Pulled in by an immaculate cover system – and the multifaceted diversity infused within – the mildly inspired memories of singleplayer will slip away when other modes offering those same essentials take hold, with fewer of the blemishes.

Lacking the occasional poorly placed checkpoint or brazen attempt at intonating the experience, Epic has siphoned the essence into Horde mode. With increasing intensity, wave after enemy wave is thrown upon you and your friends. And at the height of the relentless flow, it becomes a game of sacrifice; run and save that buddy, or leave him to the dogs.

Community and teamwork will resonate long after the credits roll. Strategic twists like picking up enemies as shields (“meat shields” if you prefer) and chainsaw battles will quickly bolster multiplayer to new heights of friendly gags and competition. Confident that the joys are in simply playing it, Gears of War 2 continues the tradition of doing away with an experience based levelling system.

Once again Epic shows its complete incompetence with narrative, and it only becomes such a problem in spite of trying to better themselves. Surely a far better developer of multiplayer experiences, the hand of design is revealed too often, squandering the veil. But it’s the succinctly focused essentials that will again become the stuff of memory. And we’ll hear the grunts and cries of this ripped brethren for a long time time to come, in the rich halls of the online space.