Harvest Moon 3D: The Lost Valley Review

I’ve been a fan of Harvest Moon since the very beginning. In 1997, a strange Super NES “farming RPG” was brought to America thanks to the localization work of Natsume, and having no idea what I’d be getting into, I immersed myself into the quirky, unusual, yet charming and addictive life of a younger lad trying his best to make his late grandfather’s farm the best it could be. There was no world to save, no evil to slay, no princess in need of rescuing—and I really loved that. Harvest Moon was a game that rewarded players who brought life to the world, not took it away.

In the 17 years since, there have been 23 mainline Harvest Moon games released in North America, excluding spin-offs like Rune Factory or non-farming projects such as Puzzle de Harvest Moon. In that time, the franchise has grown into a beast that couldn’t have been imagined in the days of its first chapter, working in deep social aspects, complex endgame objectives, and even the notion of “saving” someone or something through your skills at crop growing. While I’ve loved some chapters dearly along the way, I can’t help but feel at times that developer Marvelous is on a bit of autopilot at this point—throwing out new iterations simply because that’s what they need to do, and not because they really know what direction they want to take the empire they’ve built.

So, when it was announced earlier this year that Bokujou Monogatari—the Japanese series known as Harvest Moon in the West—would now be published by XSEED Games under the title Story of Seasons, leaving Natsume to develop their own line of farming titles to continue on the Harvest Moon name, I got a little excited. I really wasn’t sure that Natsume would be up to the task of taking on that responsibility (given their modest development efforts in recent years), but sometimes such a big shakeup is exactly what a series needs.

Well, I was right: They weren’t up to the task, at least if their first efforts—Harvest Moon 3D: The Lost Valley—are any indication. And yet, there’s also a level of promise here, which shows that, given time, they may be able to pull all of this off.

At the game’s unveiling, and in the following months, Natsume proudly proclaimed The Lost Valley to be the “first fully three-dimensional” Harvest Moon game. (A claim made about its game engine, not its support for the 3DS’ built-in features, as only the title screen is viewable in autostereoscopic 3D.) It might seem crazy to think of ideas like being able to freely turn the camera in any direction, or the world having actual height in addition to width and length, to be major gameplay features to announce in this day and age. And yet, this is the first time a Harvest Moon release has moved away from pre-set cameras angles and 2D landscapes, and it’s a jump that feels both welcome and long overdue. Even if the game’s environments are built out of blocks of dirt, rock, water, or other materials, this still feels like a world that’s far more realized and alive at times.

This change also brings the ability for players to place or remove those blocks of material, making a huge leap forward in the series’ recent trend of letting players customize their farms to better suit their personal preferences. My multi-leveled plan for crop growing made little sense logically, but it was my nonsensical design brought to life. This is Harvest Moon for the Minecraft generation, a step I not only think was a wise one, but also one that’s the best for the future of the series—and for Natsume’s attempt to stand apart from XSEED’s first Story of Seasons release.

The Lost Valley has little of the polish or potential that Mojang’s survival-builder has, however. During my discussions with members of the development staff at E3, I was told that the team had almost no familiarity with Minecraft. Well, I’ve got a piece of advice: Get familiar as quickly as you can. Transforming the land here is cumbersome, frustrating, and time-consuming, due to the low height of the world’s basic building blocks (meaning more must be used to create topographical features), the limits placed on how far up or down you can place or remove tiles, and the fact that you can neither dig straight into the side of a hill, nor can blocks be connected to other blocks if there’s nothing directly below them.

Still, this is a game about farming, and Natsume has tried to make improvements to the core of that central goal. Gameplay is heavily based on contextual design, so your next logical action can happen without needing to switch commands or pull out specific tools. For example, standing in front of a newly tilled patch of soil and hitting the A Button will always do the one thing that you’d naturally want to do: plant seeds. As soon as those seeds are sown, the A Button’s function changes to watering them. If a patch of soil has been watered, then you obviously wouldn’t want to do so again, and thus your next action would be spreading fertilizer.

It’s a simple idea that really goes a long way—and while you’ll occasionally run into times when the process being so smooth can actually be a detriment (I fertilized many a crop when I was trying to water a neighboring square of soil), it’s a sign of Natsume taking player feedback to heart when designing The Lost Valley. Other little signs of fresh thinking are scattered throughout various parts of the game, such as animals gaining traits that can boost the production or quality of their produce or crop and flower mutations that occur depending on the elevation they’re planted at—and what they’ve been planted next to.

Unfortunately, the fact that this is Natsume’s first attempt at developing a complete Harvest Moon chapter is painfully clear, as every hour you spend with The Lost Valley reveals more ways in which it seems as if the developer tried to introduce too much too soon. Tool upgrades are completely missing here—meaning that you’ll have to do everything one square at a time, a process that’s bogged down due to how long many of the game’s animations take. Harvest Sprites are available to assist you in some of your work, but they’re pretty useless until you’ve built up your relationships with them—and, even then, they aren’t around on weekends and won’t work multiple in-game days in a row. Cooking is an activity you’ll regularly take part in, but you can’t directly access any of the produce that’s stored in your refrigerator while doing so (even when it sits directly next to your kitchen unit). All of it has to be in your backpack in order to be usable—a real inconvenience, given how often you’ll hit the limit of what you can carry due to the array of seeds, minerals, tools, harvested crops, and other items you’ll be lugging around.

Surprisingly, there’s absolutely no village or town to speak of—something even the original Harvest Moon featured—meaning that most of your interactions with the game’s various NPCs will happen as they creepily mill around in front of your home on seemingly random days. With as big as the valley itself is, and with the focus on player customization, why not let me build out the land and place shops in various locations? That should be an easy idea to implement, given how The Lost Valley was designed—and it would help alleviate how lonely and empty the world feels. Sure, you can use all of that space to go crazy making a totally customized valley, but good luck doing that while also keeping up any decently sized farm (given the slowness of crop care and ground transformation, mixed in with days that pass way too quickly). Oh, and while we’re all off arguing about the lack of options for gay marriage in Nintendo’s Tomodachi Life, here, you can’t even pick the race of your farmer like you could in the last entry of the series, Harvest Moon: A New Beginning—an absolutely unforgivable omission in the year 2014, especially given Natsume’s direct connection to the Western market.

There’s plenty of other little problems that I could list if I wanted to, but really, what I’d most like to hit on as my final complaint is the point where I think Natsume made the biggest mistake. The premise of The Lost Valley is that your character comes across a valley trapped in eternal winter, with you goal being to bring the seasons back—and, with them, a return of life. In order to accomplish this, you’re given three rounds of mundane tasks to complete for the Harvest Goddess (or her associates), each of which unlocks one of the lost seasons. It’s quite likely that you won’t return each season until it’s already passed (or very close to passing), meaning that, for many, the entire first year of the game will be nothing but winter.

Now, let me reiterate that point: For the entire first year of a game based around farming, most players will experience no seasons but winter. And yet, the game expects you to farm, and farm you shall. You’ll dig out the snow to grow vegetables and flowers, none of which have any business growing, as snowdrifts dot the landscape around them. Who in the world thought this was a good idea? Why would you want players to spend the first 15-plus hours of their farming game perpetually stuck in one season—the season that makes the least sense for farming? This is a plot point that should’ve lasted for 15 minutes, not 15 hours. Had the player lifted the curse right at the beginning, it would’ve explained why the valley was barren and desolate, and why the player would be tasked with bringing it back to life through growing crops, planting flowers and trees, and shaping the land. Instead, it’s one of the longest “no, really, trust us, the game gets better once you get past the intro” intros I’ve ever seen in gaming.

Really, the entirety of The Lost Valley’s storyline should’ve been scrapped. The dev team at Natsume spread themselves thin, and the result is a game that ranges from good to mediocre in everything it does as it tries to be too much too soon. Instead of attempting so much, I wish the team would’ve concentrated on what matters most: the farming. Get all the basics right first, and make sure they’re fun. Growing crops, taking care of animals, managing your farm, cooking, fishing—polish and perfect all of those core elements, and let me take the time to really enjoy what I’m doing with each. I want to take pride in the crops that I’m raising and animals I’m keeping, not see them as time-sinks or distractions that stand in the way of getting other things done. Once you’ve got all of that down, then bring in elements such as NPC stories, quests, and other distractions. Or don’t, really. I haven’t liked how story-heavy the series was getting over the years, so I’d love to see future chapters stay away from going down that path again. (I know, though, that enough other fans disagree with me that I’ll probably never win that fight.)

I complain about so much of Harvest Moon 3D: The Lost Valley because I genuinely care about the franchise and where it’ll go in the future. Deep down, Natsume created something here that can—and hopefully will—improve with time. It’s not a bad foundation, just one that needs to be stronger before too much more is built on top of it. Take what’s here, iterate on it, make it better, more robust, flesh out its contents and concepts—don’t just throw this all away and start fresh for the next game. Do that, Natsume, and you can have something special a game or two down the line. Until then, The Lost Valley can only be what it can be: an awkward, fumbling first step, one desperately trying to find its footing.

Sunset Overdrive’s dev team talks about their custom characters

For anyone who has paid attention to my time here on EGM—and to all eight of you, my humble thanks—you’ll know that I’m a big proponent of character customization in games. Sure, there are times when the story calls for a set protagonist, and in those moments when the writing quality and world-building are top notch, you get examples such as Nathan Drake, Clementine, James Sunderland, and Bayonetta.

Far too often, however, I’ll play games and not be able to get over how little connection I have to their main characters. When Short-Haired White Guy #47 literally could have been anyone else, and the narrative and overall story arc would have been exactly the same, it makes you wonder why you couldn’t be given the choice in who that character was. It used to be that we assumed games with custom characters had to provide nothing but blank slates upon which the player had to dream up who they were, but more and more, games are proving that rich stories can be combined with customizable heroes and heroines.

That’s how I feel about Sunset Overdrive. Even though I had full say over how my particular protagonist looked (as pictured above—and no, I can’t explain how exactly she ended up as such a dirty hipster), she still had a ton of personality and attitude infused into her by the team at Insomniac Games.

So, it made me wonder: when those men and women make their own custom characters, what kinds of choices do they tend to make? I had the chance to ask some of the development staff that very question, and here’s what they had to say.


Ted Price
Founder/CEO
“I have a bunch of them, actually. I change all the time, but I enjoy playing the bigger guys—mostly because I’m not a big person. So, I like the super square jaw, African-American, muscle-bound characters, wearing something fairly unusual—like the drum majorette’s hat, maybe motorcycle pants, and a corset.”


Marcus Smith
Creative Director
“I usually play as a female. I typically have some sort of reddish or black hair, or some sort of combination of those. A lot of times, I’ve been playing with what we call the ‘Buzz’ hair, which is a big sort of afro, but with some shape to it—that’s been a good look for me. I’ll often use that hair with a red tint on a female character, and I really like the scout troop uniform stuff—so I usually have some sort of accoutrements, either the vest or the hat or something.”


Jacinda Chew
Studio Art Director
“You know, I bounce around when it comes to which players I pick. I really like playing as an African-American girl with the big afro. I know she’s actually a fan favorite as well, but I love playing her because she’s got a lot of attitude.”


Jon Paquette
Lead Writer
“Very little clothes usually, just because I like to look and feel fast. I don’t know what that is. [Laughs] But, if it was snowing, maybe I’d put a parka on or something. I like to have long, flowy hair, and some nice tattoos. And the thing that’s important to me is that the shoes look athletic. We have a bunch of different shoes that you can use, but for me, I want my character to look athletic, and be able to bounce around and do all kinds of stuff. So, for me, it’s the shoes.”

Sunset Overdrive Review

Can the apocalypse be fun? That simple question was at the heart of what two creators at Insomniac Games wanted to do for their next major project, and the result was Sunset Overdrive. When the game starts, your character—customized to your liking in terms of gender, body size, face, hairstyle, and clothing basics—lives a boring, meaningless life. At the launch party for Fizzco’s new energy drink, OverCharge Delirium XT, they can only stand to the side collecting trash as they watch the rest of the world having fun.

That ends up being the best thing that could ever happen, however, when it turns out the company’s new product has a terrible side effect in humans: turning them into “OD”, hulking orange monsters that continually crave the sweet drink. Sunset City is soon overrun, and the last remaining human survivors struggle for survival—while also opening their eyes to the brave new possibilities the fall of their hometown brings.

With apologies to the team at Insomniac for making a direct comparison to another developer’s work, the easiest way to explain the core experience awaiting you in Sunset Overdrive is to say that’s it’s similar in a lot of ways to Volition’s Saints Row IV. Sunset City is a vast open-world environment that allows access to any of its parts right from the start, and it’s a backdrop filled with colorful characters, a variety of theme-based gangs, over-the-top weaponry, a plethora of both required and optional quests, a tongue-in-cheek sense of humor, and a hero who knows they’re the hero (one who doesn’t hold back in reminding the world of that fact).

I think that’s a fair comparison to make, but it’s also important to then clarify that what each game does with those elements is very different. This isn’t Saints Row by any means—even with so many similar qualities, the two feel miles apart.

Given its heavy reliance on more subjective design choices such as its fourth wallbreaking comedy or distinct sense of personality, Sunset Overdrive could’ve gone very wrong. As I progressed through my character’s story, however, Insomniac’s efforts did exactly what they were supposed to do: They grew on me. While the style of humor won’t connect with all players—and if it doesn’t, your opinion of the game could definitely be somewhat soured—my hero grew from a selection of character-customization choices into a person I actually liked and cared about. Her sass and attempts at wit weren’t always cool, but they gave her a certain charm. She always had a bit of an edge to her, but never so much that I thought she was an unlikable jerk. (Part of that credit goes to the vocal work of Stephanie Lemelin, whose efforts as the female protagonist I loved.)

Through my character, I met the other inhabitants of Sunset City. Some you’ll only interact with for a brief moment in time; others will come to be trusted friends, companions in combat, or contacts that’ll offer help so long as you’re willing to lend them a hand in return. Here, too, the writers and artists did a fantastic job thinking up with ideas that would stand out in the city’s streets yet still feel like they belonged as part of the larger narrative. I never thought I’d grow as attached to a virtual group of LARPers as I did during Sunset Overdrive—nor was I ready for how unbelievably awesome I’d find the game’s last introduced faction to be.

Of course, not everything and everyone inhabiting Sunset City will take kindly to you, and standing in your way will be a mix of mechanical, human, and used-to-be-human foes. Even the very first enemies you encounter in Sunset Overdrive can be a real threat if you don’t take them seriously, and as things escalate, new types of OD or Fizzco security bots are introduced that help keep the game both challenging and fresh. A few of the tasks you’ll be presented with can end up feeling like a chore—due to difficulty or requirements for success—but, for the most part, I’d find myself constantly getting sidetracked for a few moments in order to engage in a battle or two simply out of enjoyment.

Really, though, that joy doesn’t come from the enemies in Sunset Overdrive as much as it comes from its weapons. After initially wanting to keep things more grounded and realistic, the team at Insomniac decided to instead continue on with the studio’s tradition for fantastical weaponry. At this point, it’s pretty clear that you can trust an Insomniac game to have quality firearms, but I was—admittedly—initially iffy on some of the designs and ideas they’d come up with this time around.

Thankfully, I was wrong; Sunset Overdrive gave me far more offensive and defensive options than I could ever use at one time, and there wasn’t one that I actively disliked. In fact, some of the offerings that I initially thought I wouldn’t care for ended up being my favorite go-to armaments in the game. So, definitely, give everything a chance before you decide what is or isn’t your style.

That suggestion leads to what was, for me, the most significant aspect of Sunset Overdrive: its traversal system. In the months before the game’s release, I had a few chances to go hands-on with the game at various events, and—in all honesty—I had some major concerns coming out of those experiences. Insomniac promised players a world where they could grind on railings, slide along telephone wires, bounce off of environmental objects, run along building walls, and perform other moves that would make traversal fast, thrilling, and strategically smart.

The problem was, I wasn’t feeling that promise in either my brief demo sessions or the beginning of my playthrough of the full game. Movement seemed awkward, I never felt like I could really do the kinds of things that I wanted to do, and I kept getting frustrated by missing jumps or grabs. The learning curve was steeper than I’d expected—especially given that I was a grinding expert in games like Jet Set Radio or Tony Hawk. The more Sunset Overdrive put me through, though, the better I was becoming.

Then, I earned the ability to air dash; following that, I acquired the power to do a super-jump after a ground pound. Gaps between grinds that were simply impossible before could now be cleared, objects previously out of reach could now be snagged, and my natural timing and judgement for when to do what better honed to the laws of physics the game’s world lives under.

There comes a point when all of those things come together the way they’re meant to, and you’ll be pulling off feats of traversal that you may not even realize. I know, because it happened to me. I was just heading from one point to another in order to take on my next quest—using the built-in fast travel was a blasphemous idea to me—and it suddenly dawned on me how crazy a lot of the stuff I was doing by second nature was. More than anything else in Sunset Overdrive—more than its weapons, or its characters, or its freedom for protagonist personalization, or its colorful landscape, or its music—the simple act of movement brought me the most joy. Games become great when they find that hook, that aspect that really sets them apart and brings them to life in a way that few other games can claim. Here, it’s the freedom that you’ll feel as you gain the ability to conquer every nook and cranny of Sunset City.

Everything coming together as well as it does in Sunset Overdrive creates a problem that I’m sure many developers wish their games had: I was having so much fun that I didn’t want things to end.

Thankfully, once the main storyline comes to a close and you’ve accomplished every sidequest or weapon upgrade that’s offered as bonus content, there’s still something to do thanks to the game’s mutliplayer option, Chaos Squad. What originally seemed like it might turn out to be a simple Horde mode is instead a variety of eight-player challenges that build up to the final climax of trying to protect your vats of OverCharge from the waves of mutants who crave its taste. Each round, you’ll vote for one of two choices for what kind of challenge you’d like to do, which can include simply killing a bunch of OD, safely escorting a train through town, collecting supplies as they’re dropped from overhead aircraft, or grinding around snatching up points in a race for the top score.

As a group, you can play it safe and choose the path that’ll give you the lowest difficulty in that final Horde modeesque round, or you can pick the harder route in order to try to snag better rewards in the end. In that bounty, you’ll earn in-game money, cans of OverCharge (to spend on weapons and upgrades), or even outfit items—giving Chaos Squad a real sense of value even beyond the enjoyment you’ll get from its competition and cooperation.

I wish there were more, though. Chaos Squad is more interesting and worthwhile than I expected, but it only scratches the surface of what could be done here. I want to run through the entire city with a friend or two, even if only to see who can outgrind the other. I want player-vs.-player modes like Deathmatch and Team Deathmatch, even if every other game in the world offers them. I love how Sunset Overdrive plays, how it feels, just being in it and existing alongside all of its offerings. The more I can do that, the happier I’ll be—even if those options come via DLC, something I typically avoid like the plague.

You might be surprised, then, when I say what I’m about to say next. Sunset Overdrive is not a system-seller—as in, I don’t know that anybody would or should buy an Xbox One simply for this game. That’s an expectation that’s too often placed on games, and I don’t think Insomniac’s first foray into the new-gen consoles needs to (or necessarily can) be that. It’s also because the game is missing a certain something that it requires to truly take it to the stage where it becomes one of those can’t-miss classics. It didn’t offer up as much as it really should have; it was never as crazy as it truly could have been; it didn’t turn the dial on the inventiveness or imagination of its quests all the way up to 11. There was never one moment, one exact point where I could say there was something truly wrong with Insomniac’s effort, but I also couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t seeing the full potential of that effort.

At the end of the day, I see Sunset Overdrive as the hidden gem that you pick up while you’re waiting for that “next big thing” to arrive—and then, to your surprise, it grows into a bigger and better experience than you ever expected. That’s exactly what happened to me. I went into Sunset Overdrive thinking that it’d be a fun, interesting smaller adventure in between the big blockbuster releases; now, it’s probably the most enjoyable game I’ve played so far this generation.

The Evil Within Review

When Shinji Mikami announced that he was developing a new project meant to get back to some of the old-school tenets of survival-horror, I was, unsurprisingly, excited. While no man or woman (outside of the indie scene) makes a game alone, Mikami has long been considered the father of the genre, having brought to life both Resident Evil and Dino Crisis during his time at Capcom. While there, he also had a hand in the game that completely reinvented the legendary franchise: Resident Evil 4.

We humans have this tendency to fondly look upon things from our past, even when those things really weren’t as good as we remember, or when the advancement of time, technology, or society has given us far better options. A relevant example of this was Capcom’s release of Resident Evil 6, which received mixed reactions from fans—and saw many on the negative side of those opinions wishing the developer would return the series to the “better days” of Resident Evil 4 (which is still beloved and praised to this day).

While it’s unfair for me to say that I’m positive Mikami’s goal was to make The Evil Within stand as the closest thing we’ll probably ever get to a Resident Evil 4-2, that’s exactly what this game is to me. That was something I was once sure I wanted—but after 15 chapters, almost 18 hours, and 113 deaths (on Survival, the game’s middle difficulty), I now think I may have been wrong.

The Evil Within gets off to a really, really rough start. Shortly after arriving at Krimson City’s Beacon Mental Hospital to investigate a grisly series of murders, detective Sebastian Castellanos is suddenly whisked away to a world of horror—and, for players, a world of frustration and confusion. We know little about the characters or why we should care about what’s happening to them. There’s nothing to establish what’s unfolding, even just to give us a sense of why we’re going through what we’re going through. Then there’s our very first introduction to gameplay—a challenging stealth segment, one that comes in a game that’s not well tailored to such concepts.

If you can survive what the first couple of chapters have in store, The Evil Within does get better. Elements that made Resident Evil 4 enjoyable exist here, refined in some ways and mixed with more current-era ideas in others. One of the game’s most important action elements—aiming and shooting the variety of long-range weaponry you’ll come to make use of—feels just as satisfying and tight as you’d hope. Hyped as a trademark element of The Evil Within, the Agony Crossbow is a weapon that’s easy to dismiss in favor of more standard guns at first, but it’s something that really does help introduce some welcome strategy to enemy encounters (by using the different bolts to freeze or blind foes, set proximity-triggered explosives, or deal heavy damage). Thankfully, it isn’t just the modern-day equivalent of Resident Evil’s grenade launcher—and it’s a tool that you’ll need to make use of beyond just saving for boss battles.

Additional bolts can be crafted using salvaged parts you’ll find scattered throughout your adventures, and one source of them will come from disarming traps—a gameplay aspect that was heavily pushed before the game’s release. The reality, however, is that traps are just sort of there, getting in your way unless disarmed and occasionally helping you take out a few foes depending on which kind of trap they are. You can’t set traps on your own, and some of them are tough enough to disarm that you’re usually better off simply leaving them alone.

Surprisingly, far more interesting than those much-touted traps is the overall distribution of normal ammo and healing items. Throughout most of the game, I ended each chapter with barely any supplies left; that may sound like a bad thing, but that balance was actually kind of refreshing compared to other games that make sure you’re always well stocked.

Another focus of The Evil Within is its continually shifting locations. Chapter after chapter, Sebastian finds himself waking up somewhere new, just after he’d almost comes to terms with what was going on in the last place he inhabited. At their best, the game’s settings unfold in some more everyday modern-society locations that I feel go ignored too often in the genre, (such as city streets or office buildings). More often than not, however, The Evil Within takes us to places already visited in a handful of other titles. Oh, this feels ripped from Silent Hill. Ah, I swear I’ve been here in Resident Evil.

Those thoughts bleed into the situations Sebastian and his cohorts find themselves in, and soon, you’ll be saying similar things about the threats you’re facing. If Shinji Mikami’s goal was to bring back the older days of the genre, he’s almost taken that goal too literally. I’m tired of fighting looming humanoids with metallic contraptions on their heads; I’m sick of trudging through mental hospitals, sewers, and rustic European villages. What I also realized I’m now past, as well, are some of the gameplay aspects that were cornerstones of releases such as these in days gone by.

This is a difficult game—and not necessarily in the good way. “Live Die Repeat” may be a catchy slogan for a sci-fi film starring Tom Cruise, but it’s an old-school gaming strategy that I’m kind of glad we’ve gotten past. So much of The Evil Within will kill you without notice or understanding, forcing you to burn through countless continues in order to ceaselessly beat your head against the proverbial wall blocking your progression until you finally find its weak spot. Compounding that task? A long list of enemies and attacks that can one-hit kill you. I’ve noticed a trend in horror games that craft tension and danger by means of frustration and annoyance, and that’s not a trend of which I’m particularly fond. The Evil Within is, far too often, difficult because it’s frustrating and annoying, forcing players to survive situations that seem to actively want to kill you as cheaply as possible. When too many of your deaths come from scenarios you feel were beyond your control, that can taint your drive to keep going.

And yet—as if to contradict what I just wrote—there are times when all of the negative elements I hated about The Evil Within’s challenge somehow blended together into something good. In my first encounter with one particular boss, I was thankful when I finally bested it, wanting to never repeat that encounter again. Then, of course, it came back bigger and far badder, in a lengthy face-off that initially provided few hints as to what the game wanted me to do in order to succeed this second time around. However, both times, there was a legitimate sense of satisfaction in knowing that I’d just accomplished what I had—along with a strange liking of the torture I’d just been put through. Many of The Evil Within’s encounters—especially those with bosses—could’ve really been something great had the balance of its difficulty not been so skewed against the player so often.

I’ve played plenty of horror games that I loved despite their gameplay failings, though, and if The Evil Within had really drawn me in with its characters and storyline, I’m sure I would’ve walked away with a better impression. Instead, those complaints I had about its opening hours pretty much stick around until the final credits rolled. Even after all the time I’d spent with him, I still knew little about Sebastian and cared about him even less. I didn’t push through the tough times of the game to find out if things would turn out all right for the cast or see the resolution to its events—I played because I wanted to finally get an explanation for what was even going on.

Critics can rag on Resident Evil 6 all they want, but there, I at least found characters that were fleshed out and interesting and a storyline that made sense and kept my attention. Here, Shinji Mikami may have captured some of that magic that made Resident Evil 4 as great as it was, but the freedom his team had in crafting the game’s narrative ended in a disjointed, underdeveloped mess.

The Evil Within, then, must stand solely on its gameplay in its attempt to satisfy players. With its wild swings between legitimately compelling moments and better-left-in-the-past mentalities, I was left with the sad realization that the principles this game was built upon may no longer be enjoyable to the me that exists in 2014. This was a game that I truly hoped to enjoy, and in those times that it let itself break free of the shackles of outdated game design or horror-gaming tropes, it showed that brilliant glimmer of imagination and flair that I know Mikami has in him. That shine, then, was stifled by the darkness of what The Evil Within does wrong—leaving me constantly looking back at the chapter I’d just overcome and being thankful to have it over with, instead of looking ahead to what awaited me in the next.

Battle Princess of Arcadias Review

Before going into Battle Princess of Arcadias, I knew its heroine was a princess, a redhead, and a sword-wielder—three things I love in my main character. Beyond those bullet points and what I could surmise from screenshots, my knowledge of the game was nearly nonexistent.

Being exposed to games we may have otherwise missed is one of the fun parts of this job, however—and I ended up glad that I didn’t miss Battle Princess.

I wasn’t sure that’d be the case as first. Battle Princess starts promising enough, feeling (fairly or unfairly) like a game that’s trying to resemble some next project from Odin Sphere and Dragon’s Crown developer Vanillaware—just minus the years of experience or artistic flair. After some character introductions and storyline setup, I was thrown into my first real test of sword and skill, controlling the game’s titular battle princess, Plume, as she cut down birds and giant panda bears, because that’s how she rolls. Gameplay felt like classic side-scrolling action games with some modern touches, and I was intrigued. With the stage completed, it was back to the castle to meet my brother, the king—who, for reasons to be explained later, is a talking goose—and my first two teammates, my new attendant Raltz and his trusty bow, and the magic-wielding royal artisan, Yuni. (Every stage lets you pick three characters to take into battle, and you can either swap back and forth at will, or inactive characters will automatically come in to replace whoever you were using at the time, should they die.)

Barely scratching the surface of what Battle Princess had to offer, I was whisked away to two types of gameplay I’d had no experience with at that point: Sieges and Skirmishes. Sieges are the game’s equivalent of boss battles, where instead of just facing off against giant monstrosities with your trio of chosen characters, you’re joined by a battalion of soldiers who help you take them down. Meanwhile, Skirmishes have your battalion face off against an opposing battalion in a stage’s background, while you directly go up against the enemy commanders in the foreground.

Both of these different stage types offer some interesting variety to the overall game, but their introductions come far too fast and too hard at a point that players will still be trying to learn Battle Princess’ basics. Part of their difficulty stems from the way you give your troops commands: Hold R1, press Triangle to switch to the orders menu, hit Square or Circle to cycle through your various options, release R1, and then press Circle again to confirm the selected order. All this has to be done while avoiding enemy attacks yourself, because the game doesn’t pause while you’re doing all of this. When I was there, playing those stages for the first time, trying to get the hang of the whole system, figuring out how to manage all of that with no pause in the action was a genuine source of frustration. In time, I (mostly) got the hang of soldier control, and you will, too—but it’s hard to help feeling like there couldn’t have been a better way for Battle Princess to handle this particular element.

Another catch to both Sieges and Skirmishes is something I consider to be one of the game’s biggest flaws: a reliance on grinding I’ve not seen in non-MMORPG games in some time. Not only must your main character be constantly leveled up to meet the rising challenge that flows all throughout Battle Princess’ adventure, but so, too, must their soldiers. Those soldiers can only ever be at an experience level equal to the protagonist that serves as their commander, and when those new cast members join your party, they’re typically of a much lower starting level than the rest of your team. So, it’s off to earn experience to beef them up—but once that’s done, building up your soldiers requires not monster kills but cold, hard cash, a resource not given lightly in Battle Princess. The developers didn’t do a good job of balancing natural character progression with enemy difficulty, so expect to go back to previously played stages for another go at them—many more goes at them, to be specific.

Ah, but there’s a silver lining to that cloud. While Sieges and Skirmishes offer some variety to gameplay and can be interesting once you’re past that frustrating break-in period with them, the main meat of Battle Princess—the action-focused, side-scrolling Combat missions—are where this game really shines. While the fighting engine isn’t perfect—there’s a default lack of ability to cancel one move type into another that can make it tough at times to block or jump as you’re waiting for an attack to finish its animations—it’s still a blast. There aren’t any bad choices across the game’s roster of 10 playable characters, and as each levels up and unlocks new abilities or maneuvers, they only become more enjoyable to take into battle. This is another beat-em-up where you can feel the fighting-game influences, comboing and juggling enemies or even performing special moves as you would a fireball in Street Fighter IV. Had Battle Princess been nothing but those Combat stages, I would’ve been totally happy, and part of what makes me more forgiving of its reliance on grinding is that I never felt like I was being punished by having to go out and beat up more vicious (or viciously cute) creatures.

There’s plenty to like about the game in areas beyond its action. Sure, its graphics and animation might not be on par with the work of Vanillaware’s notorius lead artist, George Kamitani, but they’re still both welcome in this age of polygonal proliferation, and they’re pretty well done in their own right (even if I can’t get over the fact that Plume runs like she’s a marionette). The characters also turned out more endearing than I was expecting. Even as many of them play on typical Japanese videogame or anime tropes, each cast members has enough of a twist to their personality that I just couldn’t help but like them—especially the game’s wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing, Odette. Battle Princess’ story itself is also deceptive, and what seems like a straightforward JRPG story begins to show signs of something stranger and more sinister lurking beneath its brightly colored surface.

Battle Princess of Arcadias’ faults are clear and undeniable, and I can’t help feel that it could’ve turned out better under a more experienced team. Still, most of what it gets wrong can be forgiven or overlooked—and what remains is a solid, satisfying adventure filled with a mix of combat and comedy. While Nippon Ichi and ApolloSoft may not have always succeeded in what they try to do here, Battle Princess’ combination of unique twists on gameplay ideas and satisfying combat make for an adventure I enjoyed far more than I first expected.

A Look into Preparing Firefall for Its Official Release

My tale of Firefall begins with a totally different game: Capcom’s Lost Planet 2. While not the first third-person shooter to exist, it gripped me in a way that few in the genre had before it. I’d been used to competitive first-person shooters for years at that point, but the switch in perspective added new dynamics and possibilities—and I wanted more. Sure, there were other options out there, but what I really longed for was something that looked and played like Lost Planet 2—a mix of future tech, quick movement, and a bit of lighthearted fun.

Not long after that, I stumbled upon Firefall. Announced in 2010 by developer Red 5 Studios, Firefall seemed like just what I wanted—only on a much grander scale. It had the sense of fast action combined with character progression and customization, all put together in an open-world package that tapped into the growing world of massively multiplayer online games.

As we chat to discuss Firefall’s upcoming graduation from beta status into full official release, Red 5 Studios CEO James Macauley remembers back to that time and the desires that would become the template for how the game would shape up. “Firefallwas the game that we’d been dreaming of for many years,”  he says. “This is the game we’ve wanted to go home and play for so long.”

However, in 2010, the idea of releasing such a game as free-to-play didn’t seem like a smart move to many. Games that were given away for no cost, instead making money after the fact through microtransactions or premium subscription accounts, weren’t a perfectly viable business option back in those days—they were the desperate plans of developers that knew their projects weren’t good enough to otherwise be sold for full price. At least, that was the attitude by many from all sides of videogaming, something Macauley ran into during Firefall’s reveal.

“We announced Firefall at PAX Prime in 2010, and I remember every single interview I did—every single interview, and then tons of gamers coming up to the booth—being asked the question about how we were going to make money,” he recalls. “At the time, I joked that we were all volunteers. Fast-forward to last year, and I don’t think I was asked that question once at the trade shows I went to. It’s funny now to me, as a player, how my mentality has shifted so greatly in the last three years with more and more games coming out as free-to-play. Now, it’s an oddity to have [an MMO] you have to pay money for.”

Indeed, the question on players’ lips concerning Firefall in recent months haven’t been about the viability of its business plan—it’s been the uncertainty of when the game would finally be finished. Just shy of being in beta testing for three years as of this point, which can seem like a lifetime of waiting for a game project to be considered finished enough to open up to the general public. Macauley, however, says that those years have been crucial to Firefalland what it would be going forward.

“The beta wasn’t a marketing gimmick to get people to try it out before we launched—it was very much designed for us to look at what’s working, what’s not, and make sure that we have the adequate time to adjust, attune, iterate, and also build out additional content,” he explains. “We’ve taken that time very seriously, and it’s been awesome. The game we’re making is a very complicated one, and there are a lot of hard challenges that we had to overcome. The time that we spent in beta gave us that opportunity to do so.”

It’s hard to blame the team at Red 5 Studios for not wanting to be rushed through making sure Firefallhas been playtested, iterated upon, and smoothed out. What developers think will be good and what players end up wanting can differ greatly at times, and in a world where so many free-to-play options now exist, people won’t hesitate in abandoning a game they feel isn’t up to snuff.

The question of the game’s readiness will now be put to the test. Firefall’s official launch has been set for July 29th, which will include something that’s been requested by many players: availability on Steam. Before that date on July 15th, current beta testers will gain access to everything that comes as part of the launch update—an update that comes after some months of silence from the team. Macauley explains that Red 5 went “radio silent” so that they could not only focus on getting everything ready for launch, but also so they could prepare a bit of rebranding to go along with its long-awaited public debut. This includes a small but very important win for Macauley: finally securing the rights to the firefall.com URL.

When Firefall hits its release date and the beta gets updated to the full launch version, Macauley says players will find a world that’s quadrupled in size over what was available during beta testing, with 15 times the amount of content to go along with that new territory. Leveling up your Battleframe armor will be an important new inclusion, as will Credits, a centralized form of currency that can be earned by trading in the sought-after resource Crystite. Credits will let all players make purchases for in-game needs, or they can be traded to paying customers for Red Beans, the for-cash currency that opens up Firefall’s cosmetic items for deeper character customization.

The biggest addition at launch for Firefall, however, will be ARES Jobs. These are new types of missions players can undertake either solo or with squadmates, and they’re dynamic in nature: Where you’ll be going or what exactly you’ll be doing can change every time you play them.

What that word—dynamic—means to both Firefall and its development team is an interesting question. Macauley acknowledges that the term has been tossed around quite a bit as of late, but for him, it means starting with a core layer of how Red 5 Studios wants to craft content in the game, and then building various blocks of logic upon that core. As one example, none of Firefall’s enemy spawns are hand placed; instead, the various regions of the world are defined in terms of type, and then the servers know which foes to spawn in which areas based on those types.

Another example is AI behavior, such as that seen in the various NPC town guards you’ll see in the game. Those sentries don’t have scripted patrol paths, so their AI decides where they should go depending on which areas of town are currently unprotected or in need of support. It’s a small example of what can be done in making a game feel more random in its experience, but Macauley believes the effort put into all of those kinds of details pays off in the end.

“As a gamer, as well as a game developer, there’s huge value in a world that’s different,” he says. “If we just had static quests in this town, and then other static quests with static spawns, very quickly the player would feel like they’ve done those quests and seen that town and finished the experience. That’s really counter to us building the lore and the narrative and the feeling for the gamer that this is Earth, and this is our last stand.”

For those who have been in Firefall’s beta for years now, July 29th will bring a grouping of updates that will change some elements of what they already know. For others, this will be their first (and possibly long-awaited) introduction to what the team at Red 5 Studios has been working on for years. What about the team itself? What does finally making Firefall’s existence official mean to them, and where did the game have to be before they could consider that goal reached?

“We had to make sure that Firefallwas as fun and engaging and compelling as it deserves to be,” he answers. “One of the critical things for us was really making sure that the game was accessible and approachable by new players. What we saw during the beta were two very interesting things. Players who really got into the experience and got past the first couple of sessions played an incredible number of hours, and they loved the game—they were hardcore. But we also saw that the game had a level of complexity that scared other players off. For the new player experience, we were doing so many things differently than anything else out there, and we were doing things differently than shooters and MMORPGs. It ended up that it was challenging for new players to understand how they should be playing the game, because we were all about dynamic content, and the idea was that the world is your oyster—go out and explore. Yougo find the content. But what we found was that while many players love that, others do like a little bit of direction.”

There’s also another group of players Macauley hopes Firefallbecomes a hit with: the developers themselves.

“I’ve dreamt of the day that our devs are spending so much time playing their game, playing Firefall, that I need to tell them to get other things done, like fixing bugs or working on scalability,” he says with a laugh. “If we’re all completely immersed in our game and geeked out and staying up until 4 a.m. playing instead of sleeping and getting ready for work, we’ve won. We’ve accomplished something.”

Japan Service – May 28th, 2014

Welcome, everyone, to Japan Service—a new column here where I’ll be taking a look at some of my favorite finds when it comes to news, announcements, or interesting tidbits from the world of Japanese gaming.

Throughout my years of playing video games, I’ve long had a love for the weird and wonderful creations of those talented developers living on the other side of the Pacific ocean from me. While the Japanese industry has changed quite a bit over the years—and not always in a good way—it’s still a source for some of the most interesting, creative, or downright bizarre experiences you can have with our favorite form of digital entertainment.

The rules for what I’ll be covering in Japan Service are simple: it has to be developed in Japan*, it has to be based around or focused on a title or franchise of Japanese origin, and/or it has to be something that wouldn’t be big enough for us to write a dedicated news posting to it.

* I reserve the right to be a liar and break this rule at times in order to talk about other Asian-developed games.

 

Old Natsume had a farm…

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls—there has been a huge shake-up in the world of Japanese niche gaming!

No matter what happened, no matter how crazy things may become, there was always one constant, one certainly we could hold onto daily in our lives: Natsume will exist, and they’ll have a new Harvest Moon game for us.

Ever since the company published the English-language version of the original SNES game on our shores back in 1997, Natsume has been the steward of the series for us Americans. Harvest Moon became so synonymous with Natsume that many just assumed the company created the series—and that the series defined the company. The truth is, Harvest Moon has never been a Natsume game, as it was developed by a team that went through various name and ownership changes until becoming what is now known as Marvelous AQL. As well, Natsume’s North American branch was around long before Harvest Moon was even a twinkle in Yasuhiro Wada’s eye—though, at this point, the franchise is far and away the company’s biggest property.

So what’s happened? XSEED Games has happened. The company had been teasing a new game announcement this week, and today, the news broke: the next official release from the series will come from XSEED, not Nastume. Why? It’s simple: XSEED is owned by Marvelous AQL, and by having them publish it instead of Natsume, it cuts out the middle man. From a business perspective, it makes plenty of sense.

For a fan perspective, I’ve both positive and negative feelings on the move. The good? XSEED is a great company, and I know that, in their hands, the games will do fine. The bad? I’m not so sure this is a move I want to see for either company. On the XSEED side, I’d rather they continue concentrating their efforts on what they do best—bringing over crazy niche Japanese games that wouldn’t get a chance otherwise. And then we have Natsume, who has just lost what is easily their most prominent and popular source of game releases. I’m not saying that Natsume will be in trouble due to losing Harvest Moon; I am saying that I can’t help but worry about them and their future.

Of course, that’s if Natsume doesn’t have a new Harvest Moon game up their sleeves. I know, that seems to go totally counter to what I just said—but, see, there’s a big catch here. Natsume owns the rights to the Harvest Moon name. They can, so far as I understand the situation, release new games under that same banner, so long as they have someone to develop those games for them. Will they go that route? If I were them, I certainly would, if the financial means to do so are there. That, really, could be a huge stumbling block in the idea–being able to finance the development of what would essentially be a brand new series of games, and make sure they’re of high enough quality to not damage the brand’s reputation.

It’s also hard not to wonder if Natsume hoped that Hometown Story could be something to take the place of Harvest Moon, either short- or long-term.

And what of the games we once knew as Harvest Moon? Their original Japanese name, Bokujou Monogatari, translates to “Farm Story”—not exactly a name that excites. Instead, the series will now be called Story of Seasons. It’s a more interesting name, certainly, but also one that will require XSEED to put out a lot of effort informing people that it’s “the series formally known as Harvest Moon”.

Will Harvest Moon—as in, the series of games people have loved for nearly eighteen years now—be okay? Absolutely. It’s the various details surrounding it that are now harder to judge.

 

Indie-sent exposure at TGS thanks to Sony

While you can’t swing a dead Cait Sith here in the West without hitting an indie developer who is working on a project for one of them big gaming platforms, in Japan, the indie scene has gone down a pretty different path. To be clear, there’s been indie games for years and years as part of the grassroots doujin scene, but in many ways, there’s hasn’t been nearly as much of a sense of culture built up around those developers.

As the power of coming together into a larger community is being better understood, that’s starting to change–and one example of that was the introduction of an indie gaming booth at last year’s Tokyo Game Show. The booth wasn’t overly impressive, it didn’t offer a whole lot of room, and it was tucked away in a weird corner of the show during the final two public days. Still, it existed—and everything has to start somewhere.

This year, the indie area of TGS 2014 will grow from 41 to 50 slots, with those booths available for 99,000 yen ($975) for all four days, or 32,400 yen ($320) for just the two public days. Well, except that there’s a special promotion running, where both of those costs have been reduced to the low, low price of free.

Why? Because Sony Computer Entertainment has announced that they’re footing the bill for any indie developers that want to be a part of this year’s TGS indie booth. Well, that’s awfully kind of them, isn’t it? Of course, that means that they’ll control what’s shown at the indie booth, and they can only be games that are coming to some sort of PlayStation platform, right?

Wrong.

“I should point out that just because we’re picking up exhibition costs doesn’t mean we have any say in what’s exhibited. That’s all TGS,” said Brad Douglas, PlayStation global third-party relations guy on Twitter. “That said though, we don’t care if the game is on a PlayStation platform or not. The more indie games, the better! Just bring cool stuff!”

It’s easy to be cynical about gaming, and there’s no question that Sony’s push for supporting indie devs is partially being done to help their systems be more attractive to the development community—but still, at the end of the day, this is a cool move. Having to shell out hundreds of dollars to show off your game can be a big deal to someone who’s doing game development as a hobby or small business, and anything that helps indie gaming get more exposure in Japan is a good thing in my eyes. So, good job Sony, PR stunt or not.

III + III = VI -> X1

Ahh, but what about the other side of the fence, where the grass is greener—because, you know, green is the color of the Xbox. As opposed to, I guess, blue grass on the Sony side.

…err, anyway! The Xbox One is coming to Japan, and there’s been some big news about that lately. And by big news, I mean news, because let’s face it, things have been pretty quiet when it comes to that system and its release in Japan. No longer!

First, we’ve got an official price: 39,980 yen for the Xbox One by itself, and 49,980 yen for the system bundled together with Kinect. No surprises there, really.

But then there are the games! And not just Western games translated into Japanese, but honest-to-goodness Japanese games! Well, I mean, we already know about Swery’s D4, and Crimson Dragon was definitely a Japanese-developed title. What I actually mean are new, unexpected, exciting announcements!

Like, for example, three games coming to the console from publisher Mages / 5pb. Up there in that little YouTube embed you can watch the teaser trailer for Chaos;Child, a new 2014 visual novel from Nitroplus that continues their proud tradition of game titles with semicolons in them. (Hey, they bought them in bulk, and they need to use them or they’ll go bad.) Chaos;Child is connected to the previous-released Chaos;Head and, if I’m not mistaken, linked in some way to Robotic;Notes and Steins;Gate.

In addition to Chaos;Child, 5pb will bring Xbox One owners Mystereet F: The Detective’s Curtain Call (a reworking of the original game combined with an all-new Mystereet 2), as well as an original game based on the Psycho-Pass anime that will feature Kinect and Smartglass integration.

Ahh, but if you buy three new Japanese Xbox One games today, you get three more for free! It seems ex-Cave shooter-ing master Makoto Asada will play a part in bringing three more games to Microsoft’s next-gen platform through the publisher. (So far as anyone can tell, the three games Asada is working on aren’t the first three I mentioned.) What will he be working on? Talk from the 5pb blog is that one of the games will be shown off at E3, and won’t be either a shooter or a visual novel.

Japanese support of Xbox platforms has been nothing short of fascinating. The Xbox 360 did terribly in the country—as of this week, lifetime sales as just under 1.7 million units—and yet it got a number of not only great, but exclusive, titles. Will that be the same for the Xbox One?

Well, the thing is, I don’t know for sure that any of these games will be exclusive to the system. They certainly may be, but I (and others) have seen nothing indicating that any of them are for sure just yet. It does, admittedly, seem weird that we’ve not seen a lot of similar announcements for the PS4.

Hitman Go Review

Fair or not, I distrust mobile games. Not portable games, mind you—I happily consume more than my fair share of PlayStation Vita or 3DS titles on a constant basis. I mean those games we pay a few bucks for, download to our phones or tablets, and then interact with using nothing but touch gestures or gyro sensors. Outside of rare exceptions such as Space Invaders Infinity Gene or Cave’s surprisingly competent iOS ports for their shooters, cellphones and smart devices are where games go to die, condemned to a fate of awkward interaction and half-baked execution.

That’s why Hitman Go caught my eye. For their latest offering to the mobile gaming space, Square Enix didn’t just slap an already existing Hitman game onto an Apple device, toss some virtual analog sticks and buttons on top of it, and call it a day. They’ve crafted a game that keeps true to the spirit of the franchise, but one that takes the series in an entirely new direction.

That direction? Board games. From the moment Hitman Go loads up, Square Enix Montreal’s dedication to style is apparent. Open the digital board-game box that’s presented to you, and the initial set of stages unfold via a series of dioramas—ones that look as if they’ve been created from wood, fabric, and plastic, but brought into existence in a way as only a videogame could. Agent 47 stands unmoving, a little molded figurine secured to a base. Meanwhile, trees sway in the breeze and birds chirp in the distance as digital markers show you what spaces you can move to next.

With the swipe of a finger, you move Agent 47 to the next space. The objective, at first, is simple: Move him to the goal, whisking our favorite bald-headed hitman to the next board. There, you’re suddenly presented with a guard blocking 47’s progress. Move to the space in front of the guard, and it’ll be game over; maneuver 47 either next to or behind the watchman, and you can take him out of the equation. When you do, you see the guard’s piece dropped onto the table—just like what would happen when playing a real-world board game.

Of course, the beauty of re-creating such an experience in videogame form is that, without the need for physical pieces or sets, stages and objectives can change completely for every level, and it isn’t long before your missions are far more complex. Suddenly, a new set of guards appears, ones that move one space every time you do. Locked doors require keys before they open the way to progression. Even some classic Hitman weapons and stealth tools show up, all implemented in ways that never break the board game illusion. While new twists or pieces are constantly added up until the end, the core gameplay remains clear and focused, keeping a nice balance between unpredictability and stability.

That commitment to the concept is one of the best aspects of Hitman Go. It would’ve been easy to have the idea of Hitman playing out as a board game, but then still make it feel like the series’ standard efforts—especially due to fear of being too far out there for longtime fans. The team at Square Enix Montreal stuck to the plan, and the result is a game that honors the core tenets of past Hitman games while also providing an experience that feels wholly new and unique—not to mention enjoyable even for those who’ve never played a Hitman game in their lives.

Indeed, no matter your familiarity with Agent 47 or his past adventures, Hitman Go will be understandable and welcoming to anyone who appreciates strategy games both real and digital. While the game’s core ideas seem easy at first, difficulty comes hard and fast. While just getting from start to finish on a particular board can be taxing enough, each level has three separate challenges, with those individual requirements changing from one level to the next. One challenge might reward you for securing the suitcase token before completing the stage, while another might ask you to slip through without killing any foes—or making sure you kill them all. Every now and then, a special stage shows up where you’ve got to take out a particular mark, serving as another boardgame interpretation of a Hitman staple.

Hitman Go’s puzzle-solving is the one time the game really pushes you to pay more than its $4.99 cover price. (At least for now, since additional DLC is promised but not available yet.) If you can’t clear enough objectives to earn the required points to unlock the next game box and its contents, you can do so for a buck. Meanwhile, if you’re stuck on a particular level, you can get hints for clearing it for a price—or you can pay a hefty fee ($15) to unlock those strategies for every single level and challenge in the game.

For myself—and I’d assume your standard player—this will never be an issue. Sure, some levels really stumped me, and I’ve still not cleared every challenge available in the game. However, more often than not, it just took a little time or creative thinking (or both) to get past the points that had me stuck. Hitman Go’s solutions aren’t always easy to find, but that’s true of any good puzzle or strategy game. And, without question, this new twist on the Hitman mythosisgood. While I was initially captivated by its visual design and creativity, I kept going back to it because I was having fun—and that’s the best thing a game can do, no matter the platform it’s delivered on.

Matt Brunner – Murdered: Soul Suspect

I got my first close-up look at Murdered: Soul Suspect at a pre-E3 event Square Enix held last year. Its ideas were interesting: reckloose detective Ronnan O’Connor is murdered by a killer he’s trailing, leaving him to then attempt to solve the mysteries surrounding his death from the afterlife.

It’s a concept that seems right at home in a Hollywood blockbuster, but something that feels fresh when brought to the medium of video games. Of course, big ideas require taking big chances, and Murdered‘s twist—Ronnan can walk through objects, people, even the internal walls and doors of buildings—is as interesting as it is complicated to get right.

My recent chance to return to the version of Salem, Massachusetts that Airtight Games is building into Murdered: Soul Suspect allowed me some time to actually go hands-on with Ronnan’s journey. While still early (and quick, given the small slice of the game that was in our demo), I’m intrigued. Our protagonist’s ghostly powers are overwhelming and off-putting at first, but freeing once you get used to them. Better than that, at least for me, is that Murdered is looking to weigh far heavier on aspects like exploration, problem solving, and detective work, with less importance placed on demon-fueled action scenes.

Once the demo was done, I sat down with Matt Brunner, co-founder, owner, and chief creative officer at Airtight Games, and cinematic director of Murdered: Soul Suspect. I wanted to know more about the game’s origins—and the challenges posed by the decisions that have been made about its design since those early days.

Mollie: Where did the idea for Murdered: Soul Suspect come from?

Matt Brunner: We co-developed the concept for the game with Square Enix. Basically, they came to us and said that they wanted to hear some ideas that we had for games—because we tend to generate a lot of new IP ideas—and they had some ideas of their own that they wanted to discuss. So, we went over a whole gamut of ideas that everyone had, and one they had brought to the table was the desire to make a game about ghosts. But, the concept was about that well developed at that point. [Laughs] There wasn’t anything more to the idea yet.

Mollie: Being Square Enix, I imagine that they were like, “We want it to be about ghosts, but it also has to be a turn-based, menu-driven RPG!”

Brunner: [laughs]

No, it wasn’t even that much. It was literally, “It would be really interesting to play a ghost, what could we do with that?” So, locked ourselves in a room, and talked for hours and hours. We really felt like this was not only an opportunity to make a very unique game—which is something that we all like to do, as opposed to another iteration of something—but it was also a genre that has not been explored very deeply. So, between those two things, we decided that this was a great opportunity to pursue a project like this, and began to develop it from there.

Mollie: When you first came at the idea of a game based around ghosts, was the natural inclination to go towards horror? Or did you know from the start that you wanted to do something different with the concept?

Brunner: We did know that we wanted to do something different with this game, and not go down the traditional survival-horror route. But, the amount of horror that we would have in the game was definitely a conversation we had to go through. We decided that it was much more powerful to make something that focuses more on the supernatural, if that makes sense, not so much on the horror elements. There are scares in the game, there are things that keep you on your toes, and dangers that make the experience feel within the horror genre at times, but the core of the game is an investigation game. You’re just having to solve it from the afterlife.

Mollie: Not sure how familiar you are with it, but Konami released a game called Metal Gear Rising. When Hideo Kojima first announced the game, he proclaimed that you’d be able to cut through anything—the landscape, cars, whatever. The problem they found, however, was that when you can cut through everything, you can just cut from the beginning of the stage straight through to the end of the stage, with no challenge in-between. When you decided that you wanted to have a ghost character that could walk through walls, how hard was it to get to a point where that actually worked and made sense?

Brunner: The rules of the world were actually one of the biggest challenges that we had in the game. We never had pass-through at the beginning of the experience. We did a number of prototypes, we were playing around with how it felt—literally felt when you were playing through it—and at one point we said, man, this is just not feeling like we are this character, meaning that we are a ghost. What’s wrong? We thought that the missing element was that you couldn’t just pass through the physical world, because that is what sort of defines a ghost in a lot of cultural fiction around the world.

So, we decided to try it. We threw in the ability to pass through walls, and immediately, we went, holy crap, how are we going to do this without breaking everything? [Laughs] And how are we going to do it so that you don’t get totally lost, because even the simplest of spaces becomes a disorienting maze when you can pass through [scenery] without any markers you traditionally and subconsciously use to orient yourself.

We’re using Salem as our fiction grounding space, and it’s a great place for it because they have a supernatural history. The fact that the founders consecrated all of the building gave us a very good fictional base for making the exterior of buildings solid to a ghost. In other words, they’ve already done these rituals to consecrate the buildings, so the exteriors of the buildings can’t be passed through. But, just about everything else in the game can. Now, there are parts of the environment that are part of the Dusk—the afterlife—and those elements are kind of your world. They’re part of your world as a ghost, so the functionally are physical to you as well. A ghost is physical to you, and those elements are as well. We can, through those devices, give you just the thinnest amount of barriers and rules to keep you from wandering off into outer space.

Mollie: Was there ever a balance issue of what feels “fair” in terms of giving players this immense power, and then taking it away at times?

Brunner: We weren’t trying to decide if it felt “fair” to the player, whether they could move through a specific object or not. What we wanted it to be was, is it clear to me? Does it make sense in this world as to why I can’t do this? Because, in truth, if it makes sense to you, you get it, and then you understand what your rule set is and you behave within that rule set. If it’s unclear to you, that’s when it feels unfair.

Mollie: So, while I was playing the demo, the game tells me to walk through stuff, so I try that, but it’s not long after that I realize I’m still navigating the world the way I normally would in a video game. Even though I can walk through walls or whatever, I still tend to use the doorways. I still walk around counters. For you, and the team, is there that mental valley that you had to overcome between what you’re used to in games, and what you can do here?

Brunner: There totally is. It is ingrained in the way we orient ourselves and how we think about the world—in relationship to our own physical bodies—that you immediately start behaving, even if it’s spontaneous, to those same rules that you bring into the game. We have to slowly break you into [the concept] through the game, so that by about the fourth episode, you’re freely running through everything without thinking about it. And the weird thing is, when you start playing another game after it, you start wondering why you can’t just run through walls, or why do you have to run around this object to get to the place that you want to go. [Laughs] Which is fantastic, because it means that not only did we incorporate this new way of thinking about moving through the world, but we suddenly realize how liberating it is.

Mollie: Obviously I only know a small portion of this game compared to what you know, but if you were to ask me what one thing in Murdered: Soul Suspect I’m most concerned about, I’d have to say the combat. Not to say that combat was bad, but everything around it was far more interesting. I imagine it can be tough for bigger projects to say, we don’t need to have all of this action-y stuff, it can be about the exploration, it can be about the characters and storyline. What are you trying to do with combat, why is it there when it’s there, and what does it mean to the bigger picture of the game?

Brunner: That’s a really good question. First thing you kind of have to rewind with this game is that when you have an enemy encounter, it’s not really a “combat” encounter. Just due to the nature of the gaming world, the way most games go, as soon as you see an enemy, you think, time to fight. That isn’t the case here at all. In fact, we came out at almost a hundred and eighty degrees away from that mentality. An enemy encounter in Murdered is really to put you on alert; it’s to give you a sense of danger in the world; it’s to give pacing to the investigation elements, so that it isn’t all about solving mysteries. It’s also kind of a moment to give a few adrenaline spikes that you wouldn’t normally have in this experience. But we do not think of those encounters as combat—we think of them more as stealth enemy encounters. You have to think very stealthfully on how to get around these enemies; if you go head-to-head, you’re going to lose. [Laughs] There are many ways to get around them, and you have to start thinking very differently on how to do that.

Mollie: Not trying to make a direct comparison, but one reason I’m concerned is games such as Silent Hill: Shattered Memories. The plan there was to go a different route, go very story-based, but they did have those encounters where you couldn’t fight—you had to just run away—and they ended up becoming extremely tedious. Is it tough to say, we don’t want this game to be based around action-oriented combat, but then have them exist in the game in a way that feels fair to the player yet also feels fun. Because, when you can’t just walk up to a monster with a stick and beat on it, there really is a lack of that feeling of empowerment, which can end up making those sections not feel enjoyable.

Brunner: Well, we have given you some tools in case you really want to face a demon head one. Well, maybe that’s not the right way to say it. If you want to take out the enemies, to kill them, you can do it, but you basically need to sneak up behind them and rip them apart. So, it still has a stealth component, but you can take them out versus just trying to avoid them. And then, we’ve given you other things for quickly getting away, so that you can come at them again with a different plan. Really, it is a system of an encounter, it’s just not your classic combat system. It does give the player quite a number of tools for getting away, for moving sort of peripherally around them, or taking them out directly if you want to. You can go any of those three directions.

Mollie: Percentage-wise, can you say at all how those demon encounters compare with the detective element in terms of the balance of content?

Brunner: Honestly, I don’t know the answer to this one. I would say that we’re still tweaking a lot of those enemy encounter moments, and in truth, it depends on how quickly the player snaps to what they can and can’t do during them. A lot of times, if they don’t really use their toolset, and look at where the enemies are, and think about which way they’re facing and move around the threat, people die a lot more than they need to die. Then there are other people who kind of snap to it right away, and it takes them two seconds to get around the demons. So, percentage-wise, it’s more your own approach that determines that. In general, though, I’d say it’s maybe ten, fifteen percent enemy encounters across the game, but that’s a total guess.

Mollie: I remember when I bought my SegaCD back in the day, it came with this Sherlock Holmes game, and one of the things I realized was how hard it must be to create games like that. In an action game, you know the start of the stage, here’s your boss, and you just decide how big of a path you give the player for connecting the two. But with games where you’re looking for clues and solving mysteries, it feels so much more complex. What happens when? How do we let the player figure out what’s going on, and what the particular answer is? I mean here, it seemed like I could solve some of the investigation sections in the Murdered demo if I knew the right clues, even if I hadn’t found all the possible clues. How tough is it to make a game where you have all of these little variables, and need to determine when a player can or can’t do something based on what they know at any given point?

Brunner: It’s insanely difficult, actually. Trying to build a mystery that you can empower the player to uncover, as opposed to a mystery where they just go to A-B-C-D, and then get the answer, is worlds apart in terms of difficulty. We really wanted a game—and we had to iterate on this constantly—where it felt like you were progressing, and you’re getting what you needed to to move forward, but it wasn’t an immediate, “Oh okay, I was just given the answer and now I can move on.” We’ve always made an attempt to pull together a number of those clues into a moment where you have to make sense of them. And, making sense of them is that moment where you sort of have your own deduction moment, and then it fills in the gaps, giving you what you need to move on to the next thing. I think it’s what really makes the difference between making you feel like you’ve solved the mystery yourself, instead of having simply collected what you needed to solve the mystery.

Mollie: Last question: what is the most interesting part of Murdered: Soul Suspect for you? You know, in terms of going from that initial “we’re going to make a ghost game”, to now seeing what the final product will be once it hits store shelves, what is that one aspect where you say, this is the payoff to all of the hard work you’ve been putting in?

Brunner: For me, probably the most powerful element of this game is getting the player into the shoes and fiction of being a ghost, and allowing them to fulfil that fantasy from beginning to end. It all comes down to “who am I,” and when you get to the core of who you are in a game, you really get this satisfying experience out of it, and I think that’s what we’ve done here.

Deception IV: Blood Ties Review

When it comes to videogames, I’m bad at being bad.

Even when I know that everything is virtual—the world, its inhabitants, everything—I still tend to be very conscious of my behavior. The one time I tried going Renegade while playing a demo for Mass Effect 2, I was so bothered by the actions I’d taken and the choices I’d made that I shut the game off after less than 15 minutes. I’d rather suffer through a harder level of difficulty than slaughter innocent polygonal animals, unless there’s simply no realistic means of progression otherwise. Heck, even inconveniencing a game’s characters bothers me—which is why I feel guilty whenever I talk to Dark Souls NPCs too many times, go out of my way not to pull Yorda’s arm too suddenly in Ico, or cut short exploration in Uncharted when Sully or Elena express frustration over my dawdling.

And yet, every now and then, when the right game comes along, a darker, sinister me sometimes comes out. Since its early, pre-3D days, one of those games has been Grand Theft Auto, serving as a playground where I constantly eschewed storyline progression in exchange for seeing how much destruction and mayhem I could cause. Another example? A somewhat obscure and niche Japanese release for the original PlayStation called Tecmo’s Deception.

The original Deception was a game that I never should have liked. Players take up the role of a man who, after his execution, pleads with the devil for another chance at life. He’s granted his wish, but in exchange must rule over a massive, gothic castle, one that he must defend from intruders.

That means of defense? Setting traps, and then springing them on whoever walks through the castle doors—no matter if they’re soldiers or commoners. In the first Deception, gameplay was pretty crude: walk around the castle in a first-person viewpoint, set simple traps, and trigger them at the right time. By the time Kagero: Deception II came along, the idea became far more fleshed out. The player character—Millennia, who helped usher in the series’ move to female protagonists—could now be seen thanks to the shift to a third-person playstyle, and traps had more flexibility to set up as unfolding combos. Snag that poor sap who wandered in by mistake in a bear trap, shoot him in the back with an iron arrow, and then drop a boulder onto a staircase so that it rolls down to crush him!

It wasn’t that Deception allowed me to be evil—it was that it allowed me to be sadistically, criminally, unrepentantlyevil. All those characters I’d played second fiddle to throughout the years, all of those little children who ran off into monster-filled caves that I had to rescue, all of those forced love interests that I had had to put up with, all of those townsfolk who wanted me to be their savior yet charged me for weapons and beds at the inn, I could picture them as the fodder that filed into my domain and took glee in coming up with increasingly demented ways to snuff out their existence. If I were ever going to be bad in a videogame, I had to do so in the grandest, most abhorrent way possible.

Later efforts in the Deception series pointed to the possibility that, going forward, Tecmo might be wanting to tone down some of the series’ evil slant—or, at least soften up its protagonists a bit. Thankfully, Deception IV: Blood Ties throws any notions of a kinder, gentler Deception out the window. While the game isn’t as dark or demonic in tone as it could’ve been, it also isn’t afraid to task you with being evil without offering an excuse or justifiable reason for doing what you’re doing. I mean, main character Laegrinna is the daughter of Satan, tasked with aiding in the resurrection of her father by drawing in the 12 legendary saints, killing them, and recovering the sacred text known as the Holy Verses that serves as the key to his resurrection. In attempting to accomplishing that task, the only pause she gives before dispatching her foes is to tell them point blank that they’re about to be dispatched. My fears of a watered-down, “she has to be bad but doesn’t want to be” heroine were thankfully for naught.

Also concerning for me previous to playing were Laegrinna’s three Daemon assistants: Caelea, Veruza, and Lilia. In design and art style, they hinted that Deception IV might be trying to sneak in some fanservice in order to appeal to a wider audience—or, given the sleeper hit status of the series, any audience. Once in the game, I found myself appreciating all three of my Satan-spawned assistants, each for different reasons. Sure, they’ve been tailored to check off as many anime/JRPG trope boxes as possible, but they’re also extremely likable. They add a bit of humor to the game at points where it won’t break the narrative, and the way they root you on for being a heartless bitch helps keep you from feeling too guilty for being a murderous monster. Surprisingly, it was a portion of the game where I hadn’t held any concerns over attempts at fanservice that ended up tainting Deception IV’s portrayal of women: the female soldiers who help make up the cast of characters that serve as invaders to whatever location you’re currently inhabiting. A shocking number of them sport character models who seem to have forgotten to put on pants—and when you’ve got a soldier who has full plate armor from her torso up and her knees down, those bare calves and thighs feel more like a bizarre element of pandering than they do legitimate character design.

Caelea, Veruza, and Lilia also serve a more important role, since they help usher in one of the biggest changes that Deception IV sees over previous entries. Each is the master of a certain style of trap: Elaborate, Sadistic, and Humiliating, respectively. Like before, players will use (and unlock) different types of traps—ground, ceiling, wall, projectiles, and so on—but now they also belong to one of those three styles. That additional layer of classification comes into play when trying to accomplish requests from the Daemon sisters, but they also give the developers the chance to infuse Deception IV with a little more creativity. Why just have a trap that locks an opponent in place for a few seconds, when you can instead humiliate them by having them ride a wooden horse?

Another major departure from previous Deception titles is how you’ll go about actually setting off those traps. Before, they were assigned to each face button on a PlayStation controller; now, you can select between your prepared traps with either the D-pad or shoulder buttons and activate them with the X button. Initially, this might seem like it would be harder to properly combo traps, but in fact, it’s much easier—so long as you’ve given trap placement a little forethought. As soon as you activate one trap, the next in line will be selected, and so on. Going through an entire six- or seven-trap sequence now has a smooth flow to it, and if there’s a particular trap that you really want to always have available at a moment’s notice, you can assign it (or other abilities like dodging or healing) to a set face button.

While changes such as those were welcome and appreciated, I was equally impressed by what also happens outsideof Deception IV’s main story mode. In an era when many games require numerous DLC packs to feel like a content-rich experience, Tecmo Koei offers something that feels robust right from the start. As you complete the various chapters of Laegrinna’s lengthy adventure, you can go back and freely battle it out using customized mixes of the stages you’ve seen and the foes you’ve faced. If you want something more structured, Missions mode offers up to 100 tasks with set time limits and win conditions—and, given how challenging later missions can be, running through all of them is far from easy. Burn through all of that, and Cross-Quests mode awaits, where player-generated challenges can be created, tested, uploaded, or downloaded. This won’t let you make anything near as complex as what you’ll find in Story mode, but it’s still a welcome option that means Deception IV could offer you new challenges for months (or even years) to come. Finally, cross-platform saves between the PS3 and PS Vita versions are great for those who decide to double dip, and alternative outfits for Laegrinna are unlocked with effort—not cash.

It wasn’t long into Deception IV that I realized just how wonderful it felt to be visiting the series again. It’s been a long time since the franchise and I sat down together for some sadistic pleasure—though, to be fair, I missed the 2005 PS2 spin-off, Trapt—and this really feels like a an extension of what came before, just given some modern polish. Deception IV is classic Deception, and I mean that in ways both good and bad. Since the start, this has been a series that’s felt original and groundbreaking, but also one where its limitations were absolutely obvious. To this day, it’s easy to feel as if enemies come in only one of two flavors: dumb as a bag of rocks and existing simply for your amusement, or so seemingly cheap and overpowered that you’ll want to throw your controller (or Vita) against the nearest wall. Sometimes, progress will come from simply finding the cheesiest spammable solution you can find, and if you allow yourself, it’s dreadfully easy to just stick with the same selection of traps and never bother unlocking or upgrading others.

With that all being true, however, I can’t not love Deception IV. Yes, the enemy AI isn’t the best, the gameplay can feel repetitive, and the production values are sometimes a little questionable. But, damn, there’s just so much entertainment waiting within this game, and figuring out the most effective-yet-brutal trap setups plays out as some twisted homage to Rube Goldberg. Even when a certain boss killed me over, and over, and over, and over, and I swore they were a broken piece of garbage, I never stopped wanting to play. Even after the hundredth time I subjected some hapless victim to a certain sequence of traps, doing it for the 101st time still brought joy to my heart. Deception IV is the type of game we don’t get enough of anymore, an example of that expansive middle ground between big-budget triple-A projects and the array of attempts from the indie scene. There used to be a time when so much of what I played could be described as “fun but flawed,” and that was just how life worked. Grand ideas aren’t always afforded grand execution or budgets. Development team members often number in the teens, not hundreds. As a critic, it’s my job to try to pass judgement on a game after looking at it from all angles and considering how it succeeded (or failed) in everything it tried to do. As a gamer, however, I still remember that the most important thing a game can do is be fun.

And, even with its flaws, there’s no question that Deception IV is definitely that: fun.

Dark Souls II Review

Demon’s Souls was, for me—and most others—a surprise. Tales told of a strange, masochistic PlayStation 3 game coming from Japanese developer FromSoftware, a game only brought to North America after Atlus picked up publishing rights from its original publisher, Sony Computer Entertainment (who seemingly had little faith in a Western release).

By the time Dark Souls came around, things had changed. Hundreds of thousands of players on our shores had embraced the idea of a game that rewarded those who pushed to hone their skills—and punished those who, even for a moment, showed signs of hubris. We eagerly anticipated From’s follow-up, and what we received took many of the core concepts of Demon’s Souls and crafted around them a larger, more open-world adventure that was amazing in scope and depth from beginning to end.

When its sequel was announced, I cheered—but also felt trepidation. A current-gen follow-up would have some gigantic shoes to fill, especially given the expectations its more hardcore fanbase would bring. And for me, on a personal level, there was an even bigger fear. I’d loved Dark Souls so much that it might be hard to top it—and even if its sequel pulled off everything it tried to do, it still might not be enough.

Well, Dark Souls II isn’t what I was expecting. I had assumed I’d find more of its predecessor, adorned with an extra round of polish and a bigger overall world. Instead, it almost seems as if the team moved forward by also looking to the past, bringing back aspects from Demon’s Souls that had been previously lost.

One example of this is evident right from the start. After completing the initial tutorial area, you arrive in the small coastal village of Majula. Whereas Dark Souls’ first location, Firelink Shrine, was a destination but not a home base, Majula serves as the major hub for your progress and development. Leveling is done here, as opposed to each individual bonfire; merchants and trainers will gather in Majula as you find them, much as they did in Demon’s Souls’ Nexus.

To help facilitate that change, Dark Souls II offers the ability to warp from bonfire to bonfire right from the start, and the effect of that decision is major. Dark Souls was about a journey with no one point of safety, with Lordran designed to be one large, interconnected sandbox where players were expected to constantly hoof it from one place to another. Here, the game knows you can instantly return to past locations at any time, and as a result, its locations often come off more as separate stages branching off in their own directions (instead of continually weaving through one another). The change also affects how you approach progress. In Dark Souls, there was often more of a focus on making your way through one particular section unless you found yourself especially stuck. This time around, it’s very common to jump from bonfire to bonfire, conquering areas in smaller pieces to stave off boredom or frustration.

I hated the different take on world traversal at first. It broke one of the things I loved about Dark Souls, and then more changes came along—some of them seemingly from the promised push to make the game “friendlier” for a wider range of players—and they broke other things I loved. Weapons and armor degrade at a faster pace now, but they’re instantly fixed whenever resting at a bonfire. You’ll constantly have your Estus Flask and a stock of healing items, ones that can be used to some degree while moving. (Sure, you could burn Humanity to heal yourself in Dark Souls, but it often made far more sense not to.)

The further I progressed, however, the more I came to terms with the quirks. Dark Souls II isn’t wrong—it’s different. The nods to Demon’s Souls at first feel like they go against the intent of this new Souls franchise (such as the move from hub-based gameplay to an open world), but they help keep the game from coming across as an expansion pack or carbon copy of the first Dark Souls, something I came to appreciate more than I’d originally expected. Maybe things needed to be broken, especially for a series that’s all about venturing off into the unexpected. In fact, late into the game, I felt myself wishing that From had been confident enough to take bigger risks compared to what came before, as at times you’ll swear you’re treading familiar ground.

One thing that didn’t need fixing was Dark Souls’ gameplay. There’s always the chance that a developer can milk an idea too much too soon, but for now, I just can’t get enough of the deliberate, skill-driven combat and storytelling that doesn’t vomit exposition. Even better, the game sees some massive improvements in control and user interface. Little touches abound, such as the ability to climb ladders faster, easily alternate between different arrow types mid-aim, or perform jumps via a button other than Run/Roll. Meanwhile, accessing inventory and changing out equipment has been made much more user friendly. It’s sometimes hard to appreciate some of these smaller revisions unless you go back and play the previous games—but, if you do, it becomes quickly apparent how much better Dark Souls II handles these aspects.

A much bigger change that I also really enjoyed (in a masochistic way) is that, after going Hollow, successive deaths will cause your maximum health to continue to drop—up to a maximum of 50 percent of your original health. (This penalty is reset if you use a Human Effigy to return to human form.) This hearkens back to the penalty for being in soul form in the original Demon’s Souls; in Dark Souls, the penalties for going Hollow were extremely minimal, to a point where it wasn’t unusual to run around in that form for a majority of the game. It’s a good, smart change, one that feels more proper to the spirit of the series.

Dark Souls II sees improvements on a technical level as well, with overall engine performance noticeably improved on consoles. Playing the PS3 version of the game and then spending a little time going back to Dark Souls’ release on the same console, I’d forgotten how rough the original’s framerate could be even in its quieter moments. This feels like a more solid, consistent experience, with no standout rough patches like Dark Souls’ fabled Blighttown. There’s a curious footnote to all of this, however: the game’s lighting engine. Having had access to various snippets of Dark Souls II at previous Namco Bandai events, the portions I played don’t feel as dynamically lit as they did before. This is most notable with torches, one of the major new gimmicks added. The idea—so far as I always understood it—was that some locations would be so dark that torches would be needed, and players would be at a disadvantage, given that a hand that once held an additional weapon or shield would instead be busy holding aloft a source of light. At Tokyo Game Show last year, I played a specific segment where I had to do just that; in the final build, that exact same section was now well-lit enough that doing so was no longer necessary. In fact, as they stand now in terms of their effect on gameplay, torches in Dark Souls II feel like a curious feature that was once meant to be part of some much larger gameplay concept, but now often sit as little more than a memory of what could have been.

If there’s one part of the series that fans hoped wouldn’t be mucked around with too much, it would be its legendary difficulty. Well, fear not—Dark Souls II is as hard as ever, once again offering FromSoftware’s particular style of formidable-but-fulfilling challenge. Sure, those friendlier elements I mentioned above definitely ease the journey in spots, but From makes no concessions when it comes to the world full of monsters and bosses ready and waiting to end you. Despite being my third Souls outing, I still died. Plenty of times. Deaths that were due to foes that at first seemed impossible, and deaths from times when I got arrogant or stupid or should have known better. That rush from finally beating a boss you’ve battled so many times before is still there. The sense of accomplishment from knowing you’ve progressed because you’ve improved as a player—not because of new powers or unlockables like in other games—still exists in spades. From’s series has captured the cult following that it now has due to that core gameplay experience, and it continues to burn as bright as Drangleic’s bonfires.

And yet, as good as Dark Souls II is—and as much as I came to appreciate the blend of Dark Souls and Demon’s Souls—I didn’t like it as much as its precursor. Its characters and narrative are strong, but not as strong as the brilliance of what came before. Drangleic is a joy to explore, but Lordran still sits superior in terms of design and atmosphere. In my early hours with the game, feelings like those had me thinking Dark Souls II would end up a disappointment on multiple levels. Now, so many hours, deaths, levels, and slain bosses later, I’ve been able to shed much of the personal bias I initially held against it. While it isn’t everything that I’d like it to be—and I continue to question some of the design decisions From made—a not-quite-what-I-wanted Dark Souls II still sits on a level prominently above most other games.

Note: Dark Souls II was played using a pre-release copy of the game before the official launch date. Due to this, I was unable to properly test the game’s online and community functionality enough to include discussion of them in this review, or in the consideration of the final score.

Keiji Inafune – His Life and Career

If one were asked to name the most famous, recognizable character sprite in the history of gaming, it’s likely that the original arcade Pac-Man and Mario from Super Mario Bros. would be battling it out fro the top spot. Behind them in third place, however, might be Mega Man.

Initially little more than one of the many releases Capcom produced for the NES, Mega Man was the story of a robot boy tasked with taking out six industrial robots who’d gone rogue. At the time, it was also just another project for Inafune, who served as a character designer on the game. While Inafune himself didn’t come up with the character of Mega Man—that credit went to Inafune’s superior at the time, Akira Kitamura—he’d go on to refine not only the Blue Bomber’s design, but also bring to life the six Robot Masters players would confront.

And thus, a collection of blue-, black-, and peach-colored pixels changed gaming, Capcom, and even Inafune himself. Of course, in the years since, the man who once thought he’d be making manga instead of video games became far more than just the father of Mega Man. While at Capcom, he went on to have a hand in crafting franchises such as Onimusha, Dead Rising, and Lost Planet. Then, after 23 years, Inafune left the company that served as his start in the industry and launched his own development studio, Comcept.

While Inafune’s recent roster of projects has seen him involved in some interesting collaborations with other Japanese developers, perhaps his most important partnership has come with an unlikely ally: his fans. Launched via Kickstarter, Comcept’s major new project, Mighty No. 9, will see Inafune give gamers around the globe something they’ve wanted for a long time now—a spiritual continuation of the Mega Man series.

Inafune will never be able to escape the legacy of the 2D action platformer he helped birth, and it may be surprising to some that he’d be so eager to walk that path once again. For Inafune, however, it’s a chance to finally fulfill some of the promises of his later days at Capcom—and the ability to do so on his own terms.


Mollie: You’ve been involved in gaming since the mid-’80s and helped create titles that, to this day, stand as cherished and exciting experiences for people around the world. What’s your earliest memory of gaming that got you excited or made you think that maybe, one day, you’d want to do this kind of stuff?

Keiji Inafune: Oh, man, I wonder… Video games, specifically?

Mollie: It doesn’t have to be a video game, really—it can be just games in general.

Inafune: I loved the board game The Game of Life when I was young. It was taking Japan by storm at the time. I think my first video game was a Breakout clone on the Nintendo Color TV-Game [Note: Nintendo’s pre-Famicom series of game consoles]. Before the Famicom came out, Nintendo’s consoles didn’t have interchangeable cartridges; they came with six or 15 game variations built in. The six-variation versions were obviously cheaper than the 15-variation versions. They had games like Pong. That was the first video game I played, and the first one I bought myself.

Mollie: It’s interesting that you mention The Game of Life, because that’s something that also came up as an early memory when I interviewed Hideo Kojima. For him, playing board games compelled him to make them, which then led him to want to make video games. Was the situation similar at all for you? While you were playing something like The Game of Life, were you thinking about rules and types of gameplay and other things that could eventually lead to video game development?

Inafune: The big difference between Kojima and me is that I draw. I’d much rather draw than type up a design document; I loved anime and manga rather than movies. In fact, I wanted to become a manga artist. I was just someone who happened to join a company that let me illustrate for games. I moved on to game design and production later. Really, my favorite thing is still drawing and creating characters.

Mollie: The era of anime and manga that happened in the years that you were growing up was a very important time for the industry. Artists and production companies were still finding their way in the medium, in terms of what fans wanted or what could be done when it came to storytelling and characters. What were some of the things from that era that would end up influencing you?

Inafune: Hmm… So many different artists influenced me when I was young. I was obsessed with Super Robot anime, loved the designs of the mecha, the silhouettes. I’m sure you can see the influence shows like Getter Robo or Mazinger Z had on Mega Man. Especially those works of Go Nagai. A lot of Go Nagai [Note: A legendary manga artist whose works include Mazinger Z, Devilman, and Cutie Honey].

Mollie: People often ask this, but it’s an interesting question: Why is Japan so in love with robots?

Inafune: Osamu Tezuka [Note: Japan’s “God of Manga”] influenced virtually all of Japan. After Astro Boy exploded in popularity, Japanese creators got excited about outdoing Astro Boy with ever-cooler robots. You might compare it to the influence of Superman in America and the proliferation of superheroes that came after. But in Japan, it was robots.

Mollie: Speaking of influence, there’s a definite difference in the mentality, style, and way of doing things between between people from Tokyo and Osaka. A lot of people in the West just see the Japanese way of doing things as being how Tokyo does things, but growing up just outside of Osaka, do you feel that had any specific influence on your particular style?

Inafune: Well, I do most of my work in Tokyo these days, but I live in Osaka. Osaka’s my home and my birthplace. It’s a very important place for me and was, of course, influential. I never moved to Tokyo because I never wanted to be a Tokyoite. I’m sure you’re aware of the Tokyo-Osaka rivalry. I want to succeed in Tokyo as a proud Osakan. [laughs]

Mollie: At what point in your life did you decide the things you wanted to do—being an illustrator, for example—were what you wanted to do as a job, versus just as a hobby?

Inafune: After I graduated high school and was about to enter college, I had to consider how I’d make a living. I knew I’d have regrets if I didn’t study something that was truly appealing to me. And if I failed? Que sera, sera. I seriously pondered what I enjoyed the most, and it was still illustration. I knew I had a talent for it that others didn’t. So, I went for that and ended up in the game industry.

Mollie: There’s this sentiment among Japanese people sometimes that, by age 25, you’re supposed to have your life figured out. You should be in the career you’ll have long-term, and you should be married—otherwise your hope for doing either significantly drops. Pursuing a job like illustration, however, that’s going after something that might not offer that stability. Did you ever get close to a point where you thought you should just give up and go for something more stable?

Inafune: At the time, I probably didn’t have much confidence at all. But as I said before, I wanted to live a life with no regrets. I’m the type of person who always plans ahead. Instead of cloning some hit title, I wanted to take risks designing games that had no precedent of success. I even applied that to the Kickstarter campaign. [laughs] People told me I should start to worry about designing Mighty No. 9 when and if the campaign succeeded, but they were wrong. It would have been too late. You don’t start to think of a career after leaving college, right? You have to work and make decisions before you enter. I guess that’s part of my “no regrets” policy.

Mollie: So how does all of this lead up to your getting a job at Capcom? And, when you got there, did you have any idea that you’d end up on the game-development side of the company, or were you only focused on the goal of being an illustrator. Did you think that might be the job you’d have for as long as you were there?

Inafune: I began the job thinking all my duties would be illustration, yes. But game directors and designers—as I’m sure you know—can be really late. If a director wants something a certain way, he has to communicate with artists, programmers, engineers. When a game designer takes too long in giving you a task, you start to get worried. This was already a problem on Mega Man 1. An illustrator’s job is to draw whatever the game designer wants, but if I had stuck to that, the game would never have shipped. I started presenting ideas with my character designs—what if this character attacked like this, or so-and-so boss used this pattern? It felt like a natural thing to do. I didn’t become a game designer because I wanted to; I had no choice. The game would be late. I quickly realized how efficient it was for a character designer to work on game design, too, and one thing led to another. But I’ve never called myself a game designer; I’m just an illustrator who can also do game design.

Mollie: How did it feel being at a game company at that point? Nowadays, the industry is this huge form of entertainment, but back then, gaming was still this much smaller field to work in. Was there a sense of excitement over what you were helping to produce, or was it just a job like any other potential career path?

Inafune: Oh, no—I thought it was a huge opportunity. Even if you hadn’t done so well in school, you could advance in the game industry. Men and women were given the same chances. This was extremely unusual in Japan. At a game company, the possibility of being promoted to a position above your boss was very real. I tried to make good products, make a name for myself, and keep climbing the ladder.

Mollie: One of your early things you worked on after getting to Capcom was the design of the Street Fighter character Adon. When you do work like that—you make a character, one little piece of a much larger game—is there any personal attachment you feel to that work? Or, when your contribution is that small, does it simply feel like part of the job, something you did and then moved on from?

Inafune: The Street Fighter team was nice enough to let me help out; I even did bug testing. The unfortunate thing about Adon was that he wasn’t playable. [laughs] The player couldn’t use everything I put into that character! I had to play Guile in Street Fighter II, since all the characters were new. Honestly, I have fonder memories of Guile, [who I didn’t even design,] than Adon. [laughs] Of course, I was happy when Adon became playable in the Street Fighter Alpha series. He was finally more than just someone there to get beaten up.

Mollie: Of course, you went on to work on Mega Man, a franchise that’s become immensely popular at this point. To this day, people still constantly bring up the series and the character in conversations with you. Do you ever feel like you’re in the shadow of Mega Man, and it’s something you’ll never be able to escape? Or will that just always be a part of who you are, and you’re able to embrace the fact that everyone knows you because of that little blue character?

Inafune: I’ve never really thought about it. I don’t mind if people ask me about Mega Man, but it’s not as though I want people to ask me about him. [laughs] Everyone has strong feelings about certain games. If a Mega Man fan identifies me with Mega Man, great. If they identify me with something else, that’s also great. I’ve never felt like I stood in Mega Man’s shadow, but I am thankful to him. And I’m thankful to Capcom, too.

Mollie: Are you surprised by how popular the series still is? It came out so long ago, and yet people, to this day, are still obsessed with the character. As a perfect example of that, just recently I repurchased Mega Man 2—a game I already own multiple copies of.

Inafune: Yeah. After all this time, the fact I’m sitting here 20-odd years later even talking about Mega Man surprises me. I never would have expected that. I’m honored I was able to help make a game that stuck in players’ consciousnesses. With regards to Mega Man 2, I think it’s a masterpiece. Even the people who made it think of it as a masterpiece. Working on a game that penetrates so deeply makes me happier than anything.

Mollie: As an illustrator, as someone to whom art is important, when you saw the American cover art for the first game, how did you feel?

Inafune: When Capcom USA sent us the package concepts, I was like, “They cannot be serious. This is a cruel joke!” I put in an official complaint, but the American side came back with “Americans respond to this kind of art.” It was culture shock, really. [laughs] I didn’t think American tastes were too different from Japanese, but I was told, “It has to be this way in America. This is what sells. If we use the Japanese box art, the game will flop.” I wasn’t very high up in the company yet, so I couldn’t push my opinion on the American box art too far. [laughs] Of course, years later, Americans told me they hate that box art, that it has nothing to do with the game. [laughs]

Mollie: So, you have things like the cover art, the change in names from Rockman to Mega Man, issues with the handling of the English version of Mega Man 8—how important to you, as a Japanese developer and designer who’s trying to sell his games to the world, is localization? What are the challenges between making sure a game can be appreciated in a different country by a different type of player, while still also being true to the game’s original intent?

Inafune: Well, localization of a game for its target market is an absolute must. With that said, I’m not too concerned about game titles, character names, or character designs created in Japan. After countless experiences with being ordered to change things, now I consider the bigger picture. If I were still making games with the intention to release only in Japan, things might be different. But at this point in my career, I’ve had lot of experience with localization, and I understand why certain things work and others don’t. These days—especially now that I have my own development company—I take a comprehensive, worldwide approach from the very start. I try to minimize potential localization issues as much as possible.

Mollie: On the subject of the relationship between the West and Japan in the gaming world, you’ve come to be seen as a prominent figure in the conversation about the good—and bad—points for the game-development practices and traditions from each side. Were you put into that place by your own decision, or did you just sort of find yourself pushed into that decision due to a natural expression of your opinions?

Inafune: Hmm… I think I started talking about it because nobody else was. As a Japanese game developer, I can see the aspects of the Japanese approach that work well, but it’s also easy for me to criticize those that don’t. I believe I can also recognize positive aspects of the Western approach. Most Japanese people hide their true feelings beneath a façade of politeness, so maybe I’m rare in that regard. If my speaking out somehow improves Japanese game development, I’ll be happy. Journalists have come to know I answer straight and honestly, so they ask me the hard questions. I believe what I’m doing is of service to the Japanese game industry.

Mollie: Have you had anyone in Japan break that level of forced politeness and criticize you for attacking the Japanese games industry? With how heated and passionate some obviously get regarding the conversation, it’s easy to imagine that at least someone—especially a colleague in the Japanese game-development community—may have accused you of betraying them.

Inafune: No typical Japanese person would say it to my face, but I’m sure they talk about me behind my back. “What the hell is Inafune ranting about? The Japanese game industry isn’t dead!” People who worked their damndest only to see their company actually die say this stuff. Sure, some of them might not like me, but I have a tough personality. I’m used to being loved and hated. [laughs] People who hate me will hate me; I don’t care. I feel the Japanese put far too much emphasis on being “liked.” Everyone has good points, everyone has flaws. In Japan, the basic mindset is that you’ll be shunned if you dare speak your mind. That might work inside Japan, but it won’t fly globally. The game industry is a global business; I think traditional Japanese attitudes are a detriment to competition. If I’m able to compete internationally at the cost of drawing hatred, I couldn’t care less.

Mollie: Your former employer, Capcom, has put a focus on having East-West collaborations on game projects that previously were typically handled solely by Japanese teams. Is the future of Japanese game development working with the West? Or do Japanese developers simply need to do a better job of reminding players in the West why their games as worth playing?

Inafune: Hmm… I wonder. I’d like to say it’s possible, but it might not be. I don’t think Japanese companies should rely entirely on Western developers. East and West should join forces. Unfortunately, a lot of Japanese publishers—when they say they’re working with outside companies—simply throw IPs at Western developers and hope something worthwhile comes back. I would never do that. Both Western and Japanese developers have their deficiencies, but together, we can make up for them. My ideal is to create an environment in which Western and Japanese developers can truly collaborate. It wouldn’t just benefit Japan; it would benefit the entire game industry.

Mollie: Recently, I was playing Aksys’ English-language release of Idea Factory’s PSP visual novel Sweet Fuse: At You Side, and there you were in the game, playing the role of my uncle. And then, in another of their games—Hyperdimension Neptunia mk2—your giant, real-world head can be called up to perform attacks in battle. How do cameos like that happen?

Inafune: Well, the president of Idea Factory came to me in person and sort of sheepishly asked if I’d be willing to participate in his crazy cameo ideas. [laughs] In any other case I’d have turned it down, but it was such a unique concept. I root for anyone trying something new and different, so it was a simple “yes” for me. The collaborations with Idea Factory were something I couldn’t have done while at Capcom. It would have tarnished the company’s image, and I’d have had to go through getting a lot of approvals. My giant face in Neptunia? Totally impossible! [laughs] As a private individual, however, I only had to say yes. The cameos were amusing, but there was no real benefit in the deal for me. [laughs]

Mollie: You design games, you create characters for them, you produce them, and sometimes you even star in them. But would you consider yourself a “gamer”? Do you also play games, or do you see yourself more as the person who’s there to create the games that others play?

Inafune: I don’t know. [laughs] I’m not really a part of the video game fan community. And a game creator… I’d rather be known simply as a “creator.” I don’t limit myself to video games; I pursue a wide range of creative works.

Mollie: What’s in store in the future for Keiji Inafune the creator, and for your company, Comcept?

Inafune: Hmm… The fact we were able to create a new IP thanks to Kickstarter was a big deal for me, and for us. I’d say our future is creating IPs that we retain the rights to. We’re already bringing our own IP to mobile platforms, and we have Mighty No. 9 coming up. If we had a plan that would fit a Kickstarter campaign we’d do it again—I’d have no reservations in going that route again. If another method were a better fit, we’d go in that direction.

Mollie: You’re originally from Kishiwada, a city in the southern portion of Osaka prefecture, and one of the things that Kishiwada is known for is its Danjiri Matsuri. [Note: A type of street festival in Japan where large wooden carts, elaborately designed to resemble shrines or temples, are pulled by festival participants.] If there were a Keiji Inafune–themed Danjiri Matsuri held in Japan, what would it consist of?

Inafune: Danjiri are huge and heavy, right? Carrying and running with them takes a lot of manpower. It’s a bit like game development. Just as an example, tons of people are working on Mighty No. 9. The more people surrounding your danjiri, the better you can maneuver it. I’d love to have a huge mass of compatriots supporting the Inafune danjiri. We could do incredible things together. My danjiri is a tough one to shoulder, so the talent carrying it will have to be dedicated. [laughs]

Mollie: Japanese cities are often known for their signature foods, and two of the most popular in Osaka are takoyaki [Note: fried octopus dumplings] and okonomiyaki [Note: a savory pancake-style dish]. Which would you pick as the “true” Osakan food?

Inafune: You can’t really compare takoyaki and okonomiyaki. Takoyaki are snacks, but okonomiyaki is a meal. I don’t think Osakans ever pit the two against each other. [laughs] It’s not like there are separate “takoyaki factions” and “okonomiyaki factions.” We love both. I love both. [laughs] When you just need a bite, takoyaki. When you’re starving, okonomiyaki. [laughs] I don’t think it’s even possible for someone from Osaka to choose one over the other. I sure can’t. [laughs]

Mollie: If you were to be a robot in the Mega Man</i >series, what kind of “-Man” would you be, and what would be your power?

Inafune: Oh, I’m definitely Mega Man. Mega Man’s power is the ability to absorb every other Robot Master’s power, right? I think that’s my specialty. I have a knack for learning others’ powers. Let’s say I visit a Western developer and see the new tech they’re using. I’ll “absorb” that and bring it back to Japan. I’ll play another developer’s console game and absorb the interesting mechanics. I’ll play an innovative smartphone game and absorb its premise. Mega Man can’t win all by himself; he has to learn and grow to succeed. I think that’s me.

Mollie: Then, if you are indeed Mega Man, which of his potential love interests would you settle down with: Roll or Tron Bonne?

Inafune: I, uh… [laughs] Well, Roll is gentle, meek, and kind—she has very Japanese traits. She’s much more the traditional Japanese girl. Tron is more…international? [laughs] If I had to choose, probably the international type. My real-life wife is very Japanese, you see. [laughs] But, maybe I’d go for the one who isn’t as traditionally Japanese.

Mollie: We talked about your cameos in titles like Sweet Fuse</i >and Hyperdimension Neptunia, but what’s the one game or series you’d most love to show up in?

Inafune: Oh, man… Mario? Yeah. The entire world plays Mario games, I’d be an international celebrity. [laughs]

Mollie: If you’d ended up becoming a manga artist instead of a game creator, what kind of manga would you have created?

Inafune: Hmm! I really love every genre of manga—giant robots, zombies, whatever. I don’t think I’d have worked in one specific genre. I don’t make games in one specific genre either, so…I’d probably have drawn whatever I felt like on the day. [laughs] Osamu Tezuka—the most respected manga artist in history—drew stories in every genre imaginable. I wish I could’ve done that.