You are a god. At least, you can be if you play Splinter Cell: Chaos Theory. Powerful, capable of mercy and swift, terrible judgement; Invisible to all but those poor souls approaching their final breath. You see all. You know all. Of course, it's not a total picnic, because with awesome power comes solemn responsibility, and the fate of humanity will rest upon your broad shoulders again and again. Solemn? Ha! Who are we kidding? It frigging rocks. You are a god and you have an American passport. Hallelujah!

Welcome to 2007 and the end of the world. It's truly a terrifying place, where unseen tech terrorists are manipulating data streams to pitch the US and North Korea headlong into World War Three. And while sabres rattle ominously over the media, and the DMZ turns from flashpoint to warzone, Sam Fisher and the Splinter Cell group must work to uncover the manipulators before all-out war is declared. It's a typically epic Clancy premise; all paranoia and information warfare. And, best of all, it plays out like a dark dream.

It hasn't always been this way, though. When Chaos Theory's predecessor, Pandora Tomorrow, hit the shelves last summer, gamers felt more like victims of some great cosmic joke than omnipotent covert agents dispensing government-sanctioned retribution. There were high points - the jungles were cool, while the online multiplayer Spys Vs Mercs battles were by far the best thing about the whole game, but otherwise the frustrations were too much for even Third Echelon super spy Sam Fisher to overcome entirely. The checkpoint system was rubbish and, partnered with unforgiving pacing of crucial events, led to far too many spirit-crushing replays of almost entire missions. The eye-wateringly miserly 'three strikes and you're out' alert system made this excruciating situation even worse, not helped any by the unwavering and frankly unrealistic discovery of any bodies you'd left in anything less than total darkness earlier in the level. Then there was the problem of (not too) close combat. For a high-tech, highly disciplined covert agent, living in and dispensing death from the shadows, Fisher was surprisingly cack-handed when it came to close-quarters combat. Give him the element of surprise and a bag of silenced bang-sticks and he had a fighting chance. Surprise him, and this honed and toned killing machine would often perform the hand-to-hand ballet of death with all the finesse and focus of a headless chicken. And, lastly, there was the controversial linearity of missions. Some people loved the focus it provided; others felt hemmed in by invisible walls and restricted choice.

That Pandora Tomorrow scored as highly as it did (80% back in issue 48) is testament to the ability of Splinter Cell's brilliant production values and undiluted, uncompromising sneak-'em-up gameplay to shine through the clag and grip gamers. Which it managed to do in spades.

Okay, okay. You've been very patient. We're done picking apart Pandora Tomorrow's carcass. So why bother listing the faults of the old Splinter Cell in the first place? Simple, and we think you'll agree it's well worth the wait. Chaos Theory has successfully addressed every last one of these irritating, teeth-grinding issues. Think about that.

Save points are now in your control, with a trio of alerts no longer killing the mission in its tracks, Fisher has bought himself a big knife and the pilates seems to have worked wonders on his agility up close and personal. Also, for the first time in the series, how you go about completing objectives - and the route you take to get to them - is a matter of choice. And that's not the end of Chaos Theory's generosity. It's added new moves, equipment and mini-games, expanded an utterly playable online mode and, for good measure, has thrown in 18 unique, split-screen co-op missions that tie in to Fisher's main storyline brilliantly.

It hits you the moment you start the game's atmospheric first level, The Lighthouse. Graphically, this is a triple-A title from the word go. You may have read something about 'geotexturing' in last month's Chaos Theory feature. Bottom line? Before you've even bagged your first terrorist scumwad, the quality and visual coherence of your surroundings will have sucked you into the game world. Even using Fisher's ghostly green night-vision mode, his world now looks sharper, more believable. Ambient lighting blooms and the effect on your suit-embedded light-meter makes sense, adding to your confidence in your tools of the trade.

In fact, confidence in your tech is a gratifying theme that runs (quietly) through Chaos Theory, and coming along for the ride is enormous flexibility. The standalone OCP device that temporarily fitzed out cameras in Pandora Tomorrow is not an infinitely more accessible alternate function of the standard silenced pistol.

What's more, it can now silently disrupt light bulbs (even a silenced round makes a noise when it smashes a light) and even remotely hack servers. Used in conjunction with the new EEC-equipped goggles (these detect all electrical devices, even those embedded in walls) the OCP pistol reveals a whole new layer of obstacles to circumvent or neutralise that exist beyond the visible spectrum. Pitch batch it may be, but can you be sure there isn't an infrared CCTV camera scoping you out?

Even once you've taken care of the electronic traps and visible pitfalls, Fisher's still not out of danger. New for Chaos Theory is a sound meter that complements the 'light' version used to measure Sam's shadow-blending ability. A marker moves up the meter as the ambient noise increases. Keep Sam's footfalls and equipment noise below this point and he'll effectively remain inaudible. Try snapping the shotgun module onto your infinitely adaptable SC-20K rifle in a silent, darkened room, however, and you might as well have flicked on the lights and started playing the spoons as far as ear-wigging guards are concerned.

Thank the Lord of stealth that Fisher has been blessed with some new moves to help level the playing field. Take the new stealth door move, which makes smart use of the controller's analogue stick to enable you to silently ease open a door into a hostile area. There's also the direct opposite; a burst manoeuvre that's ace for knocking guards posted directly behind doors flying. Add to this a very satisfying (not to mention exclusive to the PS2 version) yank move that frees Sam to hang off ledges or hide unseen in pools and drag unaware goons to their deaths, and it's very much the man as well as his machinery that feels evolved here.

What with Fisher constrained by sound and the visible and invisible spectrum, it would be reasonable to assume that controlling him is a tortuously stilted and potentially joy-sapping experience. Anything but. While your enemies in Chaos Theory may have more effective means to detect you in their merc kitbag and AI that feels plausibly sharp without ever feeling unfair, you do have all the necessary equipment you need to stay one step ahead. But whether you have the intelligence, ability and sheer cajones to use Fisher's gadgets correctly, quickly and appropriately is another matter entirely. And it's this evolving challenge that cranks the game into the stealth premier league.

If Fisher's skills and gizmos help to create a deeper, more satisfying Splinter Cell experience, then the map design completes the picture by adding choice and complexity to the game. Variety, too. While you won't find the innovation of the jungle missions found in Pandora Tomorrow, Chaos Theory's ten meaty levels play to the series' strengths with refreshing contrasts between brushed metal, high security office interiors (a bank in Panama, a state-of-the-art business HQ in New York), military industrial structures (a missile silo in North Korea, a mercenary base in a fortified, cliff-top lighthouse) and leftfield locations that include a secluded Japanese retreat, a cargo ship and the war-torn streets of, no, that would be telling too much... sorry, you'll just have to wait for that one.

It's enough to say that each mission provides plenty of unique challenges in the shape of CCTV, guard patrols, booby traps and remote drones, along with all manner of environmental assistance for you to exploit. Never taken a goon out with a leaky terrarium and a sticky shocker round? Here's your chance.

And can we talk game cast for a second? Michael Ironside (Starship Troopers) and Dennis Haysbert (the 'Prez' in 24) do an enormous amount to flesh out the roles of Sam Fisher and his boss/controller Irving Lambert. As a result, what could be seen as Chaos Theory's Achilles heel (a little too much cold, emotional detachment) is largely countered by the frequent exchanges between the two leads.

In fact, outside of Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater, it's very difficult to imagine a more charismatic lead character. We tried. And failed.

But really, when all is said and done and considered and re-considered you really just need to know the answer to the only question that counts: is Chaos Theory the Splinter Cell to finally topple Metal Gear from the top of the stealth pile? You know what? No, it isn't, but not for the reason you may think.

Play the two games and you'll discover that they both do sneaking brilliantly, but each brings totally different vibes to the silent snuffing party. If you want gargantuan, epic and slightly barking mad fantasy stealth, then Solid Snake has to be your man. If, however, you like your sneaking realistic, brutal and with a side order of cold, hard political intrigue, then Sam Fisher is where the juice is. Without a doubt, if you love your games you should really own both. And as far as Splinter Cell Chaos Theory or any other stealth game is concerned, there really is no bigger compliment than that.

Graphics 90%
Truly gob-smacking stuff. Totally immersive.

Sound 90%
Fantastic score and top FX.

Gameplay 90%
Gripping, and frequently surprising.

Lifespan 90%
Multiple routes, co-op and online play.

Overall 90%
A darker sneaking experience than MGS3, Chaos Theory is everything that was good about the last Splinter Cell, plus so much more.