This review is a strictly enforced spoiler-free zone. It's vital that you don't let anyone spoil BioShock for you, and three words would ruin it. So kindly refrain from reading any forums and the like until you've bought, played and completed the game. Which is something you should do as quickly as possible. Partly because it's a wonderful game, but also because I'm not sure how long I can go without talking about the bit where (spoiler deleted. Sigh. - Ed).
Some of the things that make it so extraordinary are things I can't tell you about without spoiling them, so this review is going to be about the ones that I can. All I'll say about the premise is what they'll probably put on the back of the box: it's 1960, you're on a plane, and it explodes over the ocean in the middle of the night.
It's a spectacularly beautiful opening, from the moment your head breaks the flame-glinting surface of the oil-black water with a spluttering gasp, to when crackly violas groan out a quietly mournful fanfare to your first glimpse of Rapture, BioShock's underwater metropolis.