I remember the first time I booted up that Batman game where you play as Matches Malone—what a strange experience that was. There I was, expecting to be the Dark Knight swooping between Gotham's skyscrapers, but instead I spent nearly 50% of the game disguised as this low-level inmate named Irving "Matches" Malone, trying to blend into the high-security prison environment. It felt like ordering a gourmet steak and getting a salad instead—not necessarily bad, just not what you signed up for. The prison disguise mechanic was actually pretty clever from a storytelling perspective, giving us access to areas Batman normally couldn't infiltrate, but man, did it mess with the pacing that made the Arkham games so legendary.

What really struck me during those prison sequences was how the game tried to incorporate customization elements that just fell completely flat. Remember that commissary system where you could spend your hard-earned virtual money—I'm talking about 500 to 2000 credits per item—on decorations for your prison cell? The concept sounded interesting on paper, giving players something to work toward during those undercover segments, but the execution was painfully lacking. We're talking about maybe 15-20 total cosmetic options, most of which were just different shades of gray blankets or slightly varied posters that all looked like they'd been through a paper shredder. In a game series known for its incredible attention to detail and rich environments, these customization options felt like an afterthought someone threw in at the last minute.

I can't help but compare this to the incredible customization we saw in other parts of the Arkham series—remember designing your own Batman suit in Arkham Knight with all those intricate color schemes and armor variations? We're talking hundreds of combinations that actually made you feel like you were putting your personal stamp on the character. The prison cell decorations, by contrast, offered maybe 5-7 meaningful choices once you eliminated the near-identical options. What's particularly frustrating is that this system could have been amazing—imagine if we could have displayed trophies from missions or customized the cell to reflect Matches' personality. Instead, we got what felt like placeholder content that didn't enhance the experience at all.

Here's the thing about game pacing—the Arkham series typically masterfully balances combat, exploration, and storytelling. Those prison sequences, while narratively necessary, completely disrupted that delicate balance. I found myself spending what felt like 20-30 minutes at a time just walking through identical-looking corridors, engaging in minimal combat, and occasionally buying another boring gray pillow for my virtual bed. The contrast was especially jarring when you'd transition back to being Batman and suddenly the game would explode with activity—thugs to fight, riddles to solve, gliding through the city—it was like waking up from a very dull dream.

What's interesting is that I actually don't mind experimental gameplay elements—some of my favorite gaming moments come from developers taking risks. But this particular addition felt misplaced in the Arkham universe. The series built its reputation on tight, responsive gameplay and meaningful progression systems. Spending virtual currency on decorations that did nothing but make a prison cell—a location you'd only visit a handful of times throughout the 12-15 hour campaign—slightly less gray didn't contribute to that core identity. It's the gaming equivalent of adding a minigame about organizing paperwork in an action movie—technically functional but completely missing the point of why people are there.

I've thought about this a lot since playing through that section, and I keep coming back to the same conclusion: even if they had included what I'd consider "cool" customization options—maybe some neon lights or colorful murals or something that actually reflected Matches' personality—it still would have felt like the wrong layer to add to the Arkhamverse. The prison sequences worked best when they focused on stealth, dialogue, and atmosphere, not when they tried to incorporate half-baked simulation elements. Sometimes in game development, less really is more, and this was one of those cases where stripping out the commissary system entirely might have actually improved the pacing and immersion.

What's particularly telling is how I remember these sections compared to the rest of the game. Ask me about my favorite Batman moments from that installment, and I'll describe incredible boss battles or discovering hidden Easter eggs. Ask me about the prison customization, and I struggle to recall anything specific beyond the general feeling of disappointment. When you're playing a Batman game, you want to feel like Batman—or at least like someone interesting. Matches Malone had potential as a character, but making me decorate his cell like some bizarre prison-themed Animal Crossing spin-off didn't enhance that experience. It just reminded me that I wasn't playing as the character I actually wanted to be controlling.

In the end, I appreciate what the developers were attempting—adding depth to what could have been straightforward disguise sequences. But the implementation felt like they'd taken a system from a completely different genre and awkwardly stapled it into an action-adventure game. The 40-50 minutes I estimate I spent engaging with this system could have been better used for almost anything else—additional story missions, more varied combat encounters, or even just trimming the runtime to maintain better pacing throughout. It's a lesson in game design I've carried with me: every mechanic should serve the core experience, and when something feels out of place, it probably is.