Yoshifumi Hashimoto – Grand Knights History

Mollie: When I heard that Grand Knights History was coming to America, I was excited. Right now, in America, the PlayStation Portable isn’t nearly as strong as it is in Japan, so whenever a great-looking PSP game comes out in Japan, we never actually know if it’ll come to the States or not.

Yoshifumi Hashimoto: I definitely hope a lot of people in America play the game.

Mollie: Well, with that strength of the PSP in Japan, it’s easy to think, “I’m going to make this game for Japanese players.” However, do you think about players in other countries when making games? Do you contemplate what other regions the game might be released in?

Hashimoto: It really depends on the title. For Grand Knights History, it’s a turn-based RPG, which clearly would have more traction in Japan. While Japan is indeed our first focus, I do consider how it would be received overseas when working on it.

Mollie: If my memory is correct, Grand Knights History was announced, and then not long afterward Dragon’s Crown was revealed. Dragon’s Crown is, of course, for both the PS3 and PS Vita, and the Vita is Sony’s exciting new hardware that’s getting all of the attention as of late. Did you feel like your project had at all been over-shadowed by the announcement of Dragon’s Crown.

Hashimoto: When Dragon’s Crown was first announced, there was maybe too much information for the customers to make an informed decision. Once time passed and players understood that Grand Knights History is coming out really soon, while Dragon’s Crown is still a ways off—as well as the fact that Grand Knights History has online features that people necessarily wouldn’t want to wait for—I think maybe the game was over-shadowed at first, but following that, we were really able to distinguish the game from Dragon’s Crown.

Mollie: One of the things that’s interesting right now is that Japan is so focused on handhelds like the Nintendo DS, 3DS, PSP, and PS Vita, and there’s some concern that Japanese developers are putting too much emphasis into handheld gaming and not enough into the more powerful consoles. When you make a game like Grand Knights History, do you feel that you can do everything that you want to do with the game on a handheld? Are you happy about the game being on that kind of platform?

Hashimoto: Talking specifically about Grand Knights History, when we were making the game, obviously we had to work within the limits of the hardware itself in terms of graphics or online capabilities or whatnot. Within those limits, I’m very satisfied. However, if we had made the game on a console instead, there are many other things we could have done that we weren’t able to do, and maybe that’s the next challenge for us—to try something on consoles with all kinds of interesting features.

Mollie: In that regard, the PS Vita does feel like you’re holding a home console in your hands. As a game creator, and as somebody who plays games to some degree, if Japan ended up only having portable systems like the PS Vita or 3DS, would you be satisfied with that idea? Or does Japan also need to continue pushing console gaming?

Hashimoto: I started off making arcade titles, but arcades really started dying off and it became all about making home console games. Now, who knows what’s going to happen to console games, as we’re seeing the rise of things such as social games. As a creator, I want to make all kinds of games, so I’d like to do more console games. I don’t think I’d be satisfied with just portables. It’d be the same with entertainment—if there was only TV, you wouldn’t really be satisfied, as you’d want other types of media as well. I think having a wide diversity is very important.

Mollie: One of the first things that, for me personally, I noticed and cared about was the character creation. I feel the idea of character creation is still a very Western idea, where as Japanese games still have a great reliance on strong characters—such as Cloud in Final Fantasy VII or Bayonetta. As the first part of this question, as a Japanese developer, how do you personally feel about giving the player the ability to create their own character or characters for use in a story?

Hashimoto: Basically, I think it depends on the game. For a game like Bayonetta, the character is really a central part of the game, and in that kind of game you don’t really need to give the player that kind of ability—like, oh, what if Bayonetta was blonde? In a game like Grand Knights History, however, by giving the player the ability to change all of these things, it really adds a lot to the game. By giving the player the ability not only to change physical features, but also personality and voice, it helps the player to connect better with the characters. So some games don’t need that option, but others do need it.

Mollie: In response to that—and before I get back to part two of my question—I’m really a fan of the game Mass Effect, and the reason why I love that game so much is that I can create that character the way I want. I have more attachment to that character, because I feel like it’s my personal character.

Hashimoto: I like Mass Effect—I bought it! [laughs] I can’t really talk about the next project I’m working on yet, but it’ll be something for the PS Vita. In that game, you’ll have a full character creation option. Of course, you then have a game like Mario Bros., where if you were able to make your own character, the game wouldn’t be a Mario game any longer. There’s room for both types of games, I think.

Mollie: Part of the reason I ask about character creation is not just because it’s something I care about, but Vanillaware is so well known for their art style–that very detailed, elaborate style that the moment you see it, you know who the game has come from. Also, very rarely do you see 2D games give you that kind of character creation. So you have a genre of game that typically doesn’t have that option, and you combine it with a Vanillaware game that has such a complex art style—how daunting of a task was putting that combination together?

Hashimoto: Working with Vanillaware, everything takes a long time, so even before we announced Grand Knights History it took two and a half years. During that time, they were furiously drawing our assets. When we first decided that we were going to go the character customization route, we thought, well if it’s Vanillaware, it’s no something that they can’t do, it’s just going to take a long time because they’re going to have to draw everything. Also, in other Vanillaware games like Muramasa, there are spots in the game where there isn’t any animation for elements like the backgrounds, but in this game, everything is animated. Animation doesn’t stop even for moments like cutscenes. So, from the beginning, we decided that that was how it was going to be done, and we had faith that it would be okay.

Mollie: If you’re using the character creator for Grand Knights History, what is your favorite option, or combination, or other personal favorite element of the creator?

Hashimoto: It’s kind of silly, but both men and women can wear ribbons in their hair. I think it’s really funny to have a huge, macho male character with a cute ribbon in his hair. It’s cuter than you think!

Mollie: I know somebody who bought the Japanese version of Grand Knights History, and they were making a female character one time but accidentally gave the character a male voice, which surprised them. Was that a mistake, or is that intentional.

Hashimoto: Actually, the base voice is male, and be changing the pitch you can make the voice sound female.

Mollie: I like that option—I think it’s interesting. [laughs]

Hashimoto: A lot of people have said that. [laughs]

Mollie: One more really quick question before we finish. With Harvest Moon [a series Mr. Hashimoto has served as producer on] having been around for as long as it has—does Farmville piss you off?

Hashimoto: There are some common points in the games. [laughs] But hey, why don’t they make that kind of game, really. Back in the arcade days, when one shooting game came out, suddenly there were ten shooting games. It wasn’t that you had to protect your shooting game, but more that the market got bigger and there were more people to play them. As long as you’re making another game that’s better than that, you really have nothing to fear.

Persona 2: Innocent Sin Review

The release of Persona 2: Innocent Sin here on our shores is something rather meaningful to me. I was introduced to the original Persona back in 1997—at a point before the game’s North American release—and from the moment I played it, everything about the experience completely enthralled me. It introduced me to concepts and narratives I had never expected from video games before, and I was hooked.

Until now, every chapter of the Persona series—from major iterations to re-workings and revisions—has been released here in the US. Every chapter, that is, except Innocent Sin. In the heyday of its original home—the PlayStation 1—it wasn’t deemed acceptable for release here, so instead we were only ever given its second half, Persona 2: Eternal Punishment. It was the Persona game lost to the West, and for many of us, we expected that to always be the case.

Thankfully, times have changed, Sony’s PSP has offered the series a second chance via updated versions of the original PS1 releases, and Innocent Sin will finally have the official English-language debut it has waited nearly 12 years for. The question now, however, is if that debut has come too late.

Even with the work Atlus has put into updating and upgrading the original Innocent Sin into what it now exists as on the PSP, this still feels like a Japanese RPG from an era now long gone. This is especially true if you’re someone who has come to the Persona series via its third and fourth chapters, where the ultra-hardcore nature of the series has given way to friendlier dungeon crawling and a far deeper integration of social elements.

Persona 2: Innocent Sin is hard—not always due to simple difficulty, but also due to what it expects from players. The single biggest complaint about the game is its random battle encounter rate, something which—even in this remake—still comes in rather high. The problem is that this encounter rate is coupled with dungeons that often require a lot of exploration and backtracking; when you’re simply trying to find a character, item, or path, and your search is constantly interrupted by demon encounters, the whole experience can feel utterly obnoxious. It’s a frustration that used to be the norm in the earlier days of RPGs, but something that now is seldom tolerated, and often reviled.

There’s another “problem”, if you will—demon negotiations. A concept totally foreign to the current generation of Persona, being pulled into battle with demons doesn’t always have to mean combat; you can instead converse with them in order to make pacts, receive money, or be given ever-needed tarot card (used to create bigger and badder Persona allies). It’s an interesting concept, yet one that—for those not used to it–can come off as overly long and drawn-out.

And yet, if you dig deeper, you’ll find that Persona 2: Innocent Sin is a genuinely wonderful game. You’ll hear those complaints levied against the game—and they’re completely legitimate—but IS is enjoyable despite those factors, not terrible because of them. True to every Persona title, the characters here are believable, interesting, and appealing, and the tale they find themselves unwilling player in is always satisfying. As well, if you pass on IS due to its low moments, you’ll miss out on highs such as the game’s rumor system—a totally unique (yet never fully utilized) gameplay concept where the player can change and otherwise affect various elements of the game by the dissemination of rumors.

It’s easy to criticize games simply because they’re old, demanding that they compare to newer titles that come from completely different schools and generations of game design. Persona 2: Innocent Sin looks and feels like an RPG birthed in 1999, and nothing Atlus has done in this updated release has changed that in any game-altering way. If you allow yourself to get past its out-of-date tendencies, however, you’ll find it’s also a role-player game that is still as captivating and compelling as ever.

Catherine Review

Vincent Brooks, a 32-year-old office worker, has a problem: women. With his longtime girlfriend, Katherine, nearly reaching her limit on waiting for him to pop the question, Vincent takes refuge in his favorite local bar as he tries to sort out his life and his future. While contemplating his existence in between sips of rum and cola, into his life walks Catherine—a young, carefree, blonde bombshell who’s everything our hero could want from a woman. Defenseless to her charms, Vincent finds himself engrossed in a scandalous night of pleasure with Catherine, unprepared for the week of utter misery about to unfold.

Thus begins Catherine, the tale of Mr. Brooks and the pull he feels between the love that’s always been there and the lust that’s swept him off his feet. The gameplay itself is formed from the fusion of two different concepts: the puzzle-esque nightmares that Vincent must endure every night due to his infidelity, plus the social elements that exist when he’s awake and interacting with the world around him. This genre-mixing feels more than a little reminiscent of two other recent Atlus efforts, Persona 3 and Persona 4—not surprising, given that Catherine comes from the same team.

Building on the urban legend that falling to your dream death will kill you in real life, Catherine’s puzzle segments precariously place Vincent—along with a collection of other morally questionable men, all of whom turn into sheep once they enter the dreamworld—scrambling up a series of tower floors, each made of huge blocks that crumble away as time passes. Survival comes from creating a path to reach the top of each challenge, achieved by properly pushing, pulling, positioning, scaling, and otherwise traversing these cubes.

There’s no two ways about it: These puzzle sections are hard. Catherine became somewhat notorious in Japan due to the game’s surprising challenge, and player outcry reached the point where Atlus crafted a patch to considerably rebalance the game on many of its difficulty levels. That revised version is the one we’re receiving here in North America, but even so, players who don’t have a head for logic could find themselves constantly running to YouTube in search of solutions.

If Catherine were nothing more than Vincent’s nightmares of falling and fuzzy animals, it’d be enjoyable but not unforgettable. It’s Catherine’s other side, though—that side that some might expect to be ancillary—that engrossed me. The smaller, quieter moments of Vincent’s life are exceptionally enthralling; that’s not just because he’s interesting as a character, but also because everything around him intrigues as well: Conversing with Vincent’s friends while knocking back drinks at the Stray Sheep, meeting new faces and hearing their stories, crafting carefully worded texts to reassure Katherine of your love…or to encourage Catherine’s overly enthusiastic flirting—all of these elements would be simple afterthoughts in other titles, yet here they’re the heart and soul.

It’s that real understanding on the part of Catherine’s developers that I appreciate: the acknowledgement that relationships between characters—and the player experiencing those relationships—are just so vitally important, especially if we expect better storytelling from our games. I also greatly appreciate how adult Catherine’s drama feels—not “adult” as in sexual, but as in mature. When’s the last time you can remember a Japanese game that not only focused on characters whose ages didn’t end in “teen,” but also one dealing with topics such as monogamy, pregnancy, and the understanding of what love truly means?

Catherine, like many other games we remember fondly, is a concept bold in design and grand in ambition, but also one that can—and hopefully will—be improved and expanded until it reaches its true potential. I’m a firm believer in Atlus’ daring (and sometimes crazy) push of genre-crossing concoctions, and I can’t wait for their inevitable upcoming title that mixes the trials and tribulations of parenthood with a hardcore, side-scrolling shooter.

Sawaki Takeyasu – El Shaddai: Ascension of the Metatron

At E3 2011, I got the chance to talk to Sawaki Takeyasu, the director of El Shaddai: Ascension of the Metatron, along with Ignition Entertainment marketing director Hanako Uenishi.

Mollie: Let me start with what may or may not be a simple question: what did you want to accomplish with El Shaddai?

Sawaki Takeyasu: That’s a big answer. One thing for sure was the visual presentation; I wanted to make the visual ideas I had come to life in a way that no other game can do. That was definitely something I wanted to accomplish, and I feel that I did. Also, I wanted to try making a game with absolutely no HUD (heads-up display) that would still be fun to play. Those were the two goals I definitely wanted to accomplish.

Mollie: Games without HUDs are becoming more and more of a trend, especially among Western developers. Do you think going that route really does help players get immersed into the world of the game, or is it more of a gimmick?

Takeyasu: The reason I wanted to try getting rid of the on-screen user interface was geared more toward creating an experience where players could feel that deeper immersion. I didn’t look at it as a gimmick, but more getting rid of it for that benefit, so that, in a way, players feel like they’re actually entering into a movie. I’ve heard from people who have played El Shaddai that they feel that immersion thanks in part to that decision, so I know it worked.

Mollie: When we spoke at E3 last year, we talked about the question of if players would understand the storyline of El Shaddai or not, and how with some products, such as the Japanese anime Evangelion, fans may not necessarily understand all of the aspects of what they saw, but they can still enjoy it. From the reactions you’ve received so far from Japanese players, do you think they’re understanding the game?

Takeyasu: Since launching the game in Japan, we’ve been interacting with fans at different events. I’ve heard from them that when they play, they connect deeply with El Shaddai‘s world, and they don’t want to step out of it. We have these fans come to us, and tell us how much they love the game. There are players, such as on (popular Japanese video sharing website) Nico Nico Douga, who are deciphering all of the hints in the game, and making videos for other people to help explain the game’s world. All of us really enjoy seeing fans doing things like that, and I think people are understanding the game.

Mollie: Has there been anything players haven’t understood or enjoyed as much as you initially hoped that they would?

Takeyasu: I left some parts of the story intentionally vague, so that players would have the space to imagine the answers for themselves and fill in those details. However, I’ve been getting feedback in regard to some parts of the game that the story isn’t told well, or isn’t told clearly enough. Even though I intended for those elements not to be there—because I wanted people to draw their own conclusions—that’s been the reaction.

Mollie: Part of that might be the way games have changed over time. Back on the NES, games couldn’t tell their story via voice acting or CG cutscenes or anything like that, so plots were often simpler or left more to the imagination. Now, games can be far more complex and express more in those regards, so maybe players have become trained to just expect that everything will be explained to them by the end.

Takeyasu: I think maybe you’re right. I wanted to leave it mysterious in some parts, but then we get feedback saying, “We want more story in those parts!”

Mollie: Were there any elements in the game where you had to hold back on what you wanted to do? Maybe you wanted to do something too fantastical, or wanted to tell to much story, but in order to make the game better, you had to tone down your ideas.

Takeyasu: I’m always thinking about the future, like sequels or spin-offs or whatever, so I embed different hints into the games. I know that this episode will connect to a possible future episode, and then that would connect to something else, and that’s all in my head. So if I embed those kinds of elements, sometimes the rest of the team doesn’t understand them or why they exist. Or, because I put in so many hints in regard to something, other people expect that there be more revealed in the game than I planned to reveal, and they want that explanation. That’s probably why I keep getting those questions about different elements of El Shaddai‘s story. So, to answer your question, maybe I’d say it is that embedding of hints.

Mollie: You mentioned Nico Nico Douga, and there was something I wanted to ask you in connection with that. Various elements of the game have broken out and become memes online, especially the phrase “Souna soubi de daijyoubu ka” (“Are you sure that’s enough armor?”) and its response, “Daijyoubu da, mondai nai” (“It’s fine, no problem.”). That exchange became this huge meme among Japanese fans, and even some English-speaking ones, and it won the Net Buzzword Awards 2010 GP in Japan. We now see a number of elements, both good and bad, break away from games and grow into a life of their own online—do this think this is a good thing for gaming, and something developers should embrace?

Takeyasu: I get that question a lot; I think it’s a good thing. When I created those lines, it was as a part of a conversation between Lucifel and Enoch. If that conversation becomes a meme, people would use it, and it’s something where you want to have fun saying the first line to somebody, and then having them respond with the second. I never expected it to go as far as it did, though. For El Shaddai, I think it’s a good thing. I think when elements like that become part of the bigger culture, it always starts when you’re being made fun of. At least, that’s usually how it starts: as entertainment. I think it helped established the brand in Japan.

Mollie: Another aspect of fan interaction that has blown up recently, especially in Japan, is the use of Twitter by Japanese developers. Previously, the divide between the people making a game and the people playing it was rather large, and there was little communication between the two sides. Now, via Twitter, I can tell those developers directly that I loved their game, or that their game wasn’t enjoyable. Do you think communication like that helps in game development?

Takeyasu: Although I understand that there are some developers that appreciate that feedback, for me, I don’t use Twitter, and thus don’t get that direct feedback. I don’t necessarily feel that it would help me create what I need to create. Direct feedback from the end user is one opinion from somebody who is vocal; it’s one personal opinion in terms of liking or disliking something. For me, I need to accommodate a wider range of people, so I feel like I need to shut out things like that to avoid getting confused on what I should be doing. I think there are good sides, but for me, I’m not sure it would help.

Mollie: Then I’m curious about other sources of inspiration for you when it comes to game development. In the West, many game developers actively play the competing games in the genre they’re working on, in order to see what other titles are doing right or doing wrong. On the Japanese side, however, it often seems like developers either try to avoid playing other similar games, in order to avoid influence, or they don’t even play games period. Where does your personal style of development tend to fall in that regard?

Takeyasu: I understand what you’re talking about in terms of Japanese developers that are like that. For me, however, I do play a lot of games, both for personal enjoyment and for research. I don’t know that I get influenced by them per say, but when I see an aspect of a particular game that I think was done well, I’m open to the idea of building on those aspects or doing an homage to them, especially if it’s something that has become popular with gamers. Or, sometimes I’ll play a game, and learn what they’re doing in order to try to go in the opposite direction. So, I do enjoy learning about what other games are or aren’t doing, and what players are looking for in that respect.

Mollie: Are there any specific games you’d say gave you inspiration for what you did in El Shaddai?

Takeyasu: Well, the biggest inspiration on El Shaddai I can actually think of is in terms of the music. When I was talking to the game’s soundtrack composer Masato Kouda about the style of music I was wanting, I gave him examples of soundtracks like Superman, Back To The Future, and Star Wars—soundtracks where, from the moment they start, the music is instantly memorable. I wanted the theme of El Shaddai to have that same kind of impact, where it would catch your attention right away.

Mollie: I think one aspect of El Shaddai that people in the West might not understand is the Japanese trend for collaboration. Specifically, how you partnered with EDWIN Jeans in order to produce custom-made jeans based off of those worn by the characters in the game. In the West, game companies typically do things more along the lines of action figures, or art books, or other such ventures. How do you explain that kind of collaboration to a Westerner—that pairing of video games and jeans?

Takeyasu: I personally am a huge fan of jeans. [Laughs] I have hundreds of denim jeans in my collection, and I always wanted my main character to wear jeans. In El Shaddai, that’s the best armor you can get. So, that element was in the game first, and then later we worked out the collaboration with EDWIN. I knew from the start my characters would be wearing jeans as their main armor, which comes from the idea that Lucifel, as an angel, can go anywhere and do whatever he wants. He supports the main character Enoch on his journey, and so Lucifel is giving Enoch all of his armor and weapons. Lucifel has travelled to all different kinds of time periods, but he loves this era of mankind—the year 2010 or so—the most. That’s why he carries a cell phone, and wears jeans, and why he gives Enoch denim as the best armor. I had that base storyline in mind already, and thought that if those jeans actually came to life, not only would it be fun but that it might also help sales. So, I had the idea of having the characters wear jeans first, and when I then found EDWIN Jeans as a partner, I detailed the jeans worn in the game to be based around their brand. I think, even in Japan, it was a very unique promotion, so even in Japan a lot of people didn’t totally understand it. [Laughs] But it became a popular collaboration.

Mollie: So then, being such a jeans maniac, what are your favorite kind of jeans? Beyond EDWIN.

Takeyasu: Well, I like vintage jeans. Levis, Lee, Wranger for example. And of course I have my favorite styles among those, favorite serial numbers, things like that.

Mollie: When I lived in Japan, the vintage jeans market kind of surprised me. I saw pairs of American jeans that maybe I would have just thrown away, but here they were selling for $700 or so. That was a big shock.

Takeyasu: It was probably me buying those jeans. [Laughs]

Mollie: How has the game evolved since its early concepts? From the original concept of the game, until its final version, where there are major points that changed, or elements that couldn’t be done?

Takeyasu: Not really. You’d be surprised if you saw the first trailer of the game from four years ago, when I was presenting the game to investors. It was pretty close to the same game that you see now. A few minor changes here or there, like in terms of armor design or whatever, but for the most part nothing major.

Mollie: In what’s been shown of the game, in marketing, game trailers, or whatnot, you’ve only shown the early portions of the game. Later stages take a vastly different design path in terms of style and presentation. Was that a conscious choice to only show players those early elements?

Takeyasu: Absolutely, I did that on purpose. I didn’t want to give out too much, because I wanted players to have that surprised when they finally played the game. We controlled PR and marketing closely until launch, and didn’t show a number of the characters. For example, many of the art and information books that came out for El Shaddai before the Japanese launch only had elements in them up until the fifth stage, and nothing from the second half of the game.

Mollie: It’s an interesting idea, as there’s that excitement for players in having no idea what’s coming next. On the other hand, games like Metal Gear Solid 2 tried this, and there was something of a fan backlash as they felt like what they expected and what they got were very different. Is there any danger in trying promotional strategies like this?

Hanako Uenishi: I think it was more of a positive impact that we intended to hide. We featured the big characters like Lucifel and Enoch a lot up until launch, and then there were additional characters that showed up who you didn’t know about until they did. So far, we haven’t gotten any negative feedback in terms of what we hid from players. There were some who laughed when they saw where we took the game in later stages. I think maybe it’s because our game is more to the extreme, compared to a title like Metal Gear Solid 2, so having those kinds of surprises fits.

Mollie: So then, without giving away any secrets, for the players who haven’t played El Shaddai yet, and who have only seen those early portions of the game, what is something interesting or surprising that you could tell them about how the game evolves in its later stages?

Takeyasu:: I promise you that there are different levels and worlds within El Shaddai. You’ve only seen part of the full game, so you can expect to see vastly different things as you progress further into the game. People have been surprised by how different the game gets in those later stages. So, I can promise that you’ll be surprised by what you see and play.

Mollie: When we talked last year, you mentioned that the idea of basing the game around the Bible wasn’t your choice, but a choice made by somebody else. When you’re creating something based off of those types of ideas, where you don’t fully understand them personally, is there any pressure regarding how you have to present them?

Takeyasu:: Of course there is pressure. It’s a theme I’m not totally familiar with, but which is important to many people. Since the request of basing El Shaddai around Biblical themes came from the UK side of UTV Iginition, we had the localization team over there work with us to make sure what we were doing was okay. We’ve corrected things along the way, and we’ve made sure that we wouldn’t be offending people. At the same time, I felt like I had enough room to take those elements and make them into my own original story. So, there was that pressure, but I also had help in that regard, so I always felt comfortable enough to have fun when creating the storyline elements.

Mollie: At that point in our conversation last year, El Shaddai was still being worked on, and it hadn’t been released yet. Now that it’s done, did you end up finding those Biblical aspects interesting?

Takeyasu: Yes, I enjoyed them.

Mollie: In being careful with those kinds of topics, it seems that censorship of certain media aspects has become a growing concern in some areas of Japan, and some have wondered about how this might affect video game development. Have you personally felt any pressure at all in that way?

Takeyasu: No concern really.

Uenishi: I think in Tokyo they’ve had stricter rules recently concerning aspects of sex or violence, but in terms of video game censorship, that’s always been talked about. We try to stay away from the extremes anyhow, because we want more people to be able to play our titles.

Takeyasu: I was aiming for CERO A rating (equivalent to an ESRB rating of E or E 10+), but they said that because the game had punching and kicking, that alone meant we couldn’t have that rating. And when Enoch gets hit, his armor breaks off, which they considered stripping.

Mollie: It’s interesting, because it used to be the case that when games came from Japan to America, violent aspects would many times get censored. The original Resident Evil is a good example of this. Now, however, it feels like it’s almost the opposite: games can show more violence over here, and then when that game goes to Japan, it gets edited for that type of content.

Takeyasu: Yeah, I think so too.

Mollie: What have game developers not tried with video games that you feel like they should be trying?

Takeyasu: I really enjoyed Heavy Rain, which feels like a completely new type of experience that could then be developed even further. I’d like to do a game like that myself, and think more developers should explore unique types of games like that.

Mollie: One last question—in terms of video games, what are you currently most excited about?

Takeyasu: In the short term, of course, I’m excited about the Western launch for El Shaddai. Beyond that, I’m really looking forward to the PS Vita.

Brian Horton – Tomb Raider

Subject: Brian Horton – Senior Art Director, Crystal Dynamics

Mollie: When Naughty Dog’s Uncharted was first unveiled, the game ended up receiving the nickname “Dude Raider” by some gamers, as many got the impression that it was just trying to be Tomb Raider with a male character swapped in as the lead. Of course, the Uncharted series grew into its own, and it’s now amusing that things have kind of come full circle: after the reveal of Tomb Raider, some online took to calling it a “female Uncharted”. Do you take all of that in stride, or does it legitimately bother you that those people have been so quick to jump on a nickname like that?

Brian Horton: I think we’re in a very similar space. We’re a third-person action adventure game. We’re adding the survival tone to Tomb Raider that we think is very different, and which we think adds another dimension to the game. There are a lot of things that we’re doing, such as the hubs, that are very different from Uncharted, which really is a pretty linear game.

But comparisons to one of the greatest games of this decade? I don’t think we have much of a problem with that, as long as people recognize that we’re just trying to do something of our own, and that there are unique elements to what we’re trying to accomplish.

Mollie: What was so fantastic about the original Tomb Raider was that it was so heavily based around exploration, and that while it did have some elements of combat, it never felt like it had to rely on those to be a good game. These days, it seems like it’s far harder for games to strictly be adventure without having to infuse a heavy dose of action to keep some players from feeling bored. Could this new Tomb Raider have been made without any combat whatsoever? How much of a concern has the “we need action” thought been during the creation process? Is there a formula where you determine you have to have y% of action to balance out x% of adventure?

Brian: I think what we decided—and we went back and forth on this a lot as we were trying to find the core of this game as a re-imagining of Tomb Raider—is that the formula the original Tomb Raider had wasn’t wrong. It had exploration, puzzle solving—at the time they called it “puzzle solving”, we’re not calling it that—and combat, and those are still ingredients that we think are vital to the Tomb Raider franchise and identity.

So, what we try to do in the process is amp up our exploration. We’re putting a lot more emphasis exploration, and environments that are just designed for exploration. But, I do think we need a balance. We are still an action title; I think that is an ascetic of a modern gamer, but it’s also great for pacing.

The one thing I love about anything that’s impure—where there’s that blending of pillars—is that it really gives you a lot of levers to pull when it comes to pacing, and I think that’s one thing we’ve really been enjoying about our mission structure.

Mollie: The original Tomb Raider, much like Nintendo’s Metroid series, really created this amazing sense of quiet isolation. You were alone, fighting in a sense against the environments, and all you had to rely on for survival was yourself. How much of that will kind of feeling will be in the new Tomb Raider, versus the moments when you’re interacting in some way with the locals or other living elements?

Brian: As we’ve said in past interviews, the two most important characters in the game are Lara and the environment that she’s in. I truly believe that we have to personify and bring character to that environment, because it’s her main foe. No matter what, we see the island as a character, and I think that speaks to the spirit of what you’re talking about. The man vs. nature—or, woman vs. nature in this case—is definitely a key ingredient in our game.

Mollie: When you mention the island as a character, that reminds me of the TV series Lost. The writers said that that was a big part of the storyline: that the island wasn’t just a location, but an actual character in the show, one with its own persona. Would you say there’s a similar idea going on here? That concept that Tomb Raider’s island isn’t just a set piece, but something bigger.

Brian: I think in all Tomb Raider games, if you look at these environments, they had a life. I just recently re-played the original Tomb Raider on the PlayStation 3 to remember what it was like. I was a huge, huge fan of Tomb Raider—it was what opened me up to 3D games. That, and Mario 64.

What I realized was, you had such an affinity for that space, and the way you re-circulated around it. You felt like you really got to know it, but at first you didn’t know it at all. It was that getting to know the environments and feel the space out; I think we’re trying to capture some of that, but re-invent the idea for a modern audience.

Mollie: There have been an increasing number of origin stories and reboots recently, especially in the superhero genre. An origin story can be very interesting, giving you a look at the character in a way you’ll never see otherwise, but it can also feel a little lazy, as it’s an easy way to toss a character into a movie or game without needing to come up with a new plotline. How do you create Tomb Raider as an origin story without falling into that trap, and what elements does the origin story present to you that you might otherwise not have for showing the players who Lara is?

Brian: I think the big difference for this origin story is, if we just took Lara Croft as we knew her and made her origins story, she would simply play through this first journey and then move on to those events that we saw later. We’re not doing that. We’re really rebuilding her and all of her adventures that come later.

If you look at the recent Star Trek movie for example, they made a deliberate point in there that the time continuum has changed, and now everything is going to be different. Kirk and Spock still feel like Kirk and Spock in some essence, but they’re not. They’re different characters, and they have different ways to approach a problem.

With Lara, we’re trying to do something similar. We’re trying to find enough character elements that she still feels like Lara Croft, but when we go forward from here, the world’s our oyster and it gives us such a great platform to start with. It cleans the slate for us and allows us to tell new stories. So, that’s why I don’t feel like it’s lazy in respect to that. We really approached it from many different facets of re-imagining this franchise.

Mollie: In doing that, you’ve also re-created her visually, at least to some extent. In regard to that—and I have to ask this—there’s the breasts question. It’s a discussion that has come up a lot online: some people are complaining that her chest is too small compared to Lara’s previous character design, while others are arguing that if you’re attempting to make her a “serious” character, she still has too much sex appeal. It’s such a small detail in the grant scheme of things, but one that’s created a rather weird yet interesting conversation. How do you re-design Lara to have more depth in character design beyond what she was before, while also acknowledging the fact that female characters can be sexy while having that depth?

Brian: I think it’s that exact point: riding the line. I mean, you have to have some level of visual appeal. We stripped her down to the core components—where it wasn’t about the surface quality, but who she is as a person—and then built her back up from there. Her visual aspects didn’t start first, it actually started with her biography, and the vision of Lara that we wanted. Then, when it came down to the particulars, we just knew that we wanted to give her more believable proportions, so it really came down to that. What are proportions that we think are believable for a 21-year-old girl, and what would also feel contemporary? I think those are the two facets that determined everything we did.

If our critique is that some people think her chest is too big or too small, I think we’ve found the perfect center. We didn’t obsess over this; we don’t have any idea, through her biography, what her breast size is. All we did is what we felt was right for the character, and that was every decision that we made.

Love Doesn’t Have to Be a Four-Letter Word

Rachel Shepard–the particular Commander Shepard that inhabits the world of Mass Effect which finds itself brought to life every time my Xbox 360 powers up as of late–seems well on her way in her quest to romance her teammate Garrus Vakarian. I have to admit: her interest in Garrus has come as a bit of a surprise to me.

Two years ago, during the battle to stop Saren and his quest to aid in the destruction of the universe at the hands of the Reapers, Shepard had seemed to form a bond with her Asari teammate, Liara T’Soni. The two met when our hero saved Liara from captivity deep in a Prothean ruin, and from that very moment some saw a spark between them. It wasn’t usual for Liara to accompany Shepard on the various missions the Normandy crew found themselves becoming a part of, and that closeness on the battlefield no doubt helped to strengthen their feelings for one another once back in the eerie quiet of the halls of the starship they now called home.

Time, and events, can change people however, and the reunion of Shepard and Liara served as a strong example of this. Old feelings still lingered in both of their hearts, but it was obvious that the Asari had moved on with her life; few could really blame her for having done so. Shepard, meanwhile, found herself trying to fit back into a world that had now passed her by, in charge of a Normandy that felt both familiar and foreign at the same time, surrounded by a crew she hardly knew. Garrus was an old friend and comrade, and unlike Liara, he was ready and willing to return to Shepard’s side as the universe was once again in need of a hero.

Okay, so, to be fair: not all of those details and plot-points come from the gameplay BioWare has infused into Mass Effect 2. Some elements are pieces that our brains are eager to fill in naturally when we begin to care about a game’s characters. And romance, I have come to appreciate, can help in causing me to care in ways I never fully appreciated before.

The idea of love in games is certainly not new, nor is the idea of crafting entire titles around the concept of wooing a virtual partner. While not the first game to be classified as a “dating sim,” Konami’s Tokimeki Memorial series became a blockbuster franchise that saw popularity even outside of its native Japan; the game publisher has recently returns to those roots with Loveplus, a new dating sim series that seems to be on its way to gaining a similar level of fanbase and profits as TokiMemo achieved. Player-controlled romance has even been prominent in other genres of games that have made it to the West, from the farming sims of the Harvest Moon franchise to RPGs such as Thousand Arms and Sakura Wars.

Unlike Japan, however, Western gamers still seem to hold some hesitation in having games go in this direction. Some of that thinking may come from the not so pleasant reputation dating sims have outside of Japan; a game strictly created for dating an imaginary girl can seem to some, not totally unfairly, somewhat pathetic and desperate. More than that, however, I’ve seen more than a few examples of people simply not understanding why the option for romance needs to exist in a game period, even when the game’s genre is not directly focused on that goal.

The truth is, love–as a concept, a source of inspiration, or as a final objective–has existed in gaming for almost as long as gaming itself has existed. Jumpman braved the obstacles thrown his way by Donkey Kong in order to save his beloved Pauline; the same character, now better known by the moniker Mario, did battle across an entire mushroom kingdom just for the hope of a little attention from a captive princess. Later, Sony’s PlayStation 2 masterpiece Ico was completely dependent on creating an emotional bond between the player and an innocent and inquisitive young girl named Yorda. Twenty-four some years later, Link is still wielding sword and shield to protect the princess Zelda, and you’d be lucky to find a Japanese RPG that doesn’t include one (or more) major plot lines based around young romance.

Video games are not some special exception in the world of entertainment, and as such we who enjoy said entertainment–no matter if we openly admit it or not–will find ourselves rooting for the guy to get the girl in the end. Or, you know, whatever other pairing we may be given for the more modern tales of action and adventure.

So why is it that many seem hesitant to allow that decision to be put into the hands of the player?

The acknowledgement that many games feature romantic sub-plots of some sort also comes along with the harsh reality that, a lot of times, the choice for love interest can be absolutely brutal to the player. A number of the Japanese RPGs I’ve played in recently years have, to be honest, kind of all melted together into one anime-esque blur, but I know that in at least a handful of those I’ve utterly detested the character that the game’s creators pre-determined I would like. With video game storylines already far too often teetering on the border between being acceptable and downright embarrassing, there’s nothing better (and by better, I mean worse) than having to bear through a ridiculously vapid storyline while being forced to help your character get busy with the most obnoxious moeblob the game could muster up.

If optional romantic progression did nothing more than give me the choice to purposely avoid giving the time of day to the saccharine-infused magic-using nymphet a game’s developers cruelly decided would be the perfect main heroine, then I’m already on board with this idea 100%.

Maybe the problem many have with player-controlled options for romance in games is some feeling of being required to actually find attraction in the mating choices a game presents us, or the belief that such options exist only so that the developers could have an excuse to test their skills at rendering naked boobies. Instead of just seeing these kinds of options in a game as a set of paths that lead to a few quick cutscenes where we can giggle while imaging two polygon-created character models bumping uglies, however, let us actually appreciate what they can offer us: an additional means of true and honest character development.

Though their means for doing so and final results were quite different, two sets of games in recent years have ended up really standing out for their strong pushes in the way of character interactivity: the aforementioned Mass Effect 2, along with its previous chapter, and the dual-demonic combo from Atlus, Persona 3 and Persona 4. Both of these groups of titles put importance not only into the teams that you brought together around your main character, but also in what their relationships with that main character were. The strengthening of bonds with teammates like Grunt in Mass Effect 2or Chie in Persona 4 weren’t just handed to you at regular intervals; you had to actively seek out their time and attention. By putting forth the effort to know more about them, not only would you end up with a richer understanding for the overall narrative itself, but a stronger sense of appreciation for the characters around you.

The reason for this is also the reason that the ability to pick and choose your romantic interest can improve and enhance your appreciate for a game: because they are choices you yourself make. Well, okay; let’s not have any confusion here. Choice in video games, even in titles like Mass Effect or Persona, are never real choice, but instead the illusion of choice as the developer has seen fit to present to the player. If my Commander Shepard decides to spare a rogue Salarian instead of blasting them to bits, both of those options were pre-determined and offered up to me via a small set to choose from. Even so, at that moment, I feel like I am in command far more than other games, because the actions Shepard takes in that moment only play out according to what I myself chose.

For those who find the idea of getting their virtual groove on to be of absolutely no interest, the wonderful side to all of this is that you never have to. But for those of us longing for something more from our games, that possibility existing–even if our selection of possible prospects is rather limited–just adds another later of depth to a game that understands that the more we care about what’s going on in the lives of the characters involved, the more we’ll care about the game.

Let me give you a good, real-life example that I personally encountered.

Had Persona 4 been crafted the “traditional” way, I have no doubt that the game’s main female–the kung-fu-movie-loving goofball Chie–would have been the top choice for love interest for the protagonist. Yet, the more encounters I had with Chie, and the more I came to know her as a character, I came to realize that I saw her relationship to my avatar as more of a best friend than a love interest. Normally, I would have been forced to romance her through the natural progression of the storyline, even though that wasn’t how I wanted my connection with her to play out. Instead, because the game did indeed give me that choice, she ended the game as just that: my main character’s best friend. (Meanwhile, of course, I was off playing kissy-face with the red-haired J-pop idol.) Because of this option to alter the course of my character’s life in this regard, I felt like I had more influence over how the game was playing out, and through that, more of a personal connection to the game as a whole.

Relationships, when done in this way, are just another set of choices we have. They can be sub-plots that can be ignored because the mission to save the universe is far too great to have any distractions, or they can be extra elements of storyline that draw us closer to a particular character in the game and, through them, our own digital selves. They are not, and never will be, any sort of replacement for real human interaction serving as an escape for those who can’t find love in the real world. They are real, substantial, and powerful elements of storytelling, ones which, when used properly, can help strengthen an even more important relationship: that of the gamer and the game they are playing.

Silent Hill: Shattered Memories Review

I review video games; partially because I’ve been playing games for so long that I’ve had a lot of experience with them, thus hopefully giving me a decent level of knowledge on what makes a good or bad game, and partially because I’ve conned somebody into paying me for my opinions. What I am not is a game designer; I have never developed a game, I have no true understanding or appreciation for what goes into developing a game, and it is simple for me to sit behind a keyboard and write words tearing down the project that tens (or hundreds) of people spent months, even years, giving their all to. I understand and appreciate this fact, and while I may express thoughts in my reviews on how I think a title could have been a more enjoyable experience from my viewpoint, I try to always remember that talking about game development is probably a hell of a lot easier than it is actually doing it. Don’t think too highly of yourself, Mollie; don’t assume that you could have done a better job making a game than its developers just because you have opinions.

A fine rule that I can (try to) live by in all cases except one: Silent Hill.

Silent Hill is not a game series to me; it is something far bigger, far more important, something far more personal and heartfelt. My favorite game of all time is a tie between the original Silent Hill and its sequel, Silent Hill 2. I’ve always said that Silent Hill was the game I would have made if I made games, and I was so frustrated with the overall direction of the series after I played Silent Hill: Homecoming a few months ago that I started putting together a design doc for my own Silent Hill title. (Seriously, Konami—and I’ll work for cheap.) I once wrote a text file that was a virtual phone book to the shops and locations in Silent Hill, and every message forum I’m on has my location as being from “Silent Hill”. My love for the franchise may be devotion, or it may be obsession, but whatever it is, I care about how it and its mythos are treated probably more than most of the people who have ever had anything to do with it. There is nothing that I want more than for the series to find itself again, returning to the glory that it once had.

That, specifically, was the promise of Silent Hill: Shattered Memories. Or, if promise is too concrete of a word, at least the hope and dream. Homecoming left many weary of too much combat (which, I gotta be honest, I came to quite enjoy), as well as eager to see more importance placed back on storyline, puzzles, and exploration (a fabulous idea). Word leaked on the internet of a “remake” of the original Silent Hill, something I had always prayed for but also realized could be a frightening thought. When the truth came out, it wasn’t a remake that we would be in store for, but a “re-imagining”, a fresh look at the events of Harry’s search for his daughter Cheryl from a team that loved the series and wanted to do it right.

I don’t doubt that the people who worked on this project–from the producers to the programmers to the artists to whoever it was in charge of making sure there was always a fresh pot of coffee made–went to work every day determined to create a game that would give Silent Hill fans something they had been lacking for a long time: hope. In so many ways, playing Shattered Memories, I understood that; I felt their passion, their dedication, their drive to make an experience that they could be proud of. And for that reason, I sincerely and honestly hate what I’m about to say.

As a Silent Hill game, Shattered Memories completely and utterly fails.

The foundation which Shattered Memories was built upon is filled with fantastic concepts, apparent from the moment it loads. The opening video and its menu system? Genius. Your first moments in the game are then spent in a psychiatrist’s office, where a certain “Dr. K” will break in from time to time to talk to you—you you, as you look on from a first-person viewpoint—about your memories of Harry’s trials and tribulations, and what the deeper, underlying meaning to what he encountered really is. It’s a fascinating story element, and goes hand-in-hand with the “psychological profile” aspect of the game, where what Harry does through your actions helps shape and change the world around you. A game that plays you while you play it, if you will; some ramifications of this you’ll understand, some you won’t, but it’s the idea of player choice without the player always understanding that s/he’s being given a choice.

Brilliant.

If Shattered Memories was crafted as an original IP, say “White Hell” or “Dead of Winter” or even “Silent Snow”, I could look upon it as a compelling and daring new project that was a heck of a first effort in almost every regard save its “action” portions. (To rectify complaints of previous Silent Hill titles getting too combat-heavy, Shattered Memories is basically split into two gameplay types: “snowy” Silent Hill with its emphasis on puzzles, exploration, and character interaction, and the icy “nightmare” Silent Hill, where Harry cannot fight back against the demons that show up to pursue him. The idea was that keeping Harry defenseless would create tension and fear as the player can do nothing but run until safety is found. The idea doesn’t work. At all. The nightmare scenes aren’t scary, they’re frustrating, and the demons are so skilled and speedy at ganging together to stop you that the segments turn into little more than obnoxious quick-time events. Make a bit of progress, die, repeat until you know exactly what to do in what precise order so that you can just get the thing over with.)

The problem is, this is a Silent Hill game—a legitimate, built-to-be Silent Hill game, unlike Silent Hill 4: The Room—and it’s almost as if it completely forgets that fact. The town of Silent Hill is to the series what the island is to Lost: not just a location, but also a character, and a major one at that, one which acts as the catalyst for what its visitors will face both externally and internally. The Silent Hill that Harry is let loose into here isn’t a town that has become lost to evil; it’s just, well, a town. It’s not empty because you’ve crossed into another world, it’s empty because of a snowstorm. There are a shocking number of people ready and waiting to cross paths with you, and at numerous times in the game Harry can use his iPhone-esque mobile to call up and chat with minor characters. Wait, what?

The buildings and streets aren’t decaying and decrepit, they’re just unkept, and exploration through them is shallow at best as snowdrifts keep you from straying far from the path of plot progression. Even the fun of searching for tucked-away goodies has been simplified, as anything that can be interacted with or opened sports a big, hard to miss arrow.

And what lies in wait for you there, hiding in the streets of Silent Hill? Nothing. When you’re outside of the nightmare world—which is a majority of the game—there’s nothing to scare you, nothing to threaten you, nothing at all that can ever harm you or give you any reason to hesitate before going through that next door. Nothing. The few “atmospheric” elements you’ll encounter are all completely harmless, so even the screeching of your radio as it suddenly interrupts the silence becomes but a clue that there’s something close by to investigate.

Silent Hill isn’t Resident Evil; the series has never been only about monsters lurking in the shadows. But it has been about putting us humans in those situations that frighten and challenge us physically, mentally, or emotionally. I kept waiting for those elements to finally kick in… and then the end credits rolled. You could do a perfectly wonderful Silent Hill title without ever featuring one monster, but not when the emotional impact of all of its major elements are as weak as they are here.

I don’t want “just another Silent Hill” at this point, because there is so much that can be done with the series, so much promise and potential when placed in the hands of one who truly understands the mental and emotional consequences of the city and its power. So, the fact that Shattered Memories was crafted as a means to try to bring excitement and energy back to the series is an attempt that I respect from the bottom of my heart. But when I play it, when I’m told this is what a team of men and women thought would be the direction the series should take, I’m left baffled by how, in my eyes, the entire essence of Silent Hill has either been completely ignored or simply wasn’t understood from the beginning (even beyond what I’ve mentioned here). I almost wasn’t sure if I should be the one to review it at first, because for a while I was absolutely certain that something was so wrong with me that I had simply lost the ability to comprehend what I was playing. The story doesn’t feel like Silent Hill, the characters don’t feel like Silent Hill, the mood, the atmosphere, the exploration, the themes, even Silent Hill itself doesn’t feel like Silent Hill.

Choosing to re-image the events of Konami’s groundbreaking series instead of simply remaking them I was ready for; completely tossing out most of its heart and soul I was not.

The Wizard of Oz: Beyond the Yellow Brick Road Review

There were countless reasons why I loved the last great hardware effort from Sega (the Dreamcast, of course), but somewhere at the top of that list was the overall wonder I felt at the system’s game library. It was the console that, for me, made gaming fun again, as it seemed developers Japanese and Western alike took chances on ideas that they might not have attempted elsewhere. It isn’t to say that every Dreamcast project was totally unique and groundbreaking, but there was this overall sense of creativity that seemed to re-assure games that it was okay to try new things and dare to be different. It was the world were Jet Set Radio, Seaman, Napple Tale, and Shenmue were the norm, not the niche; a world that I came to love living in.

This is all relevant because The Wizard of Oz: Beyond the Yellow Brick Road (or Riz-zoawdas it was known in Japan) keeps telling me that it’s a DS game, but I would swear to you that the entire time I played it I was certain I was back in the days of the Dreamcast. Sure, it probably has something to do with the fact that in my mind, the DS is a return to that “let’s be daring!” mantra that fueled Sega’s final console, but I just can’t shake the ability to see myself, DC controller in-hand, playing Oz. Mybe not even the stock controller: upon telling a friend how I felt like this could have ben a Dreamcast game, after agreeing with me he said he wouldn’t have been surprised had somebody been crazy enough to make an official rollerball controller to bundle it with.

That’s the first thing you’ll notice about Oz: control over Dorothy is done by flicking the stylus around on a large (virtual) emerald rollerball displayed on the DS’s touch screen. Why exactly this was the control method chosen remains a mystery, though may possibly be explained by some combination of “seemed like a good idea at the time” mixed in with a dash of “touch-screen gimmick” to hopefully help the release standout more. How is it that my first experience with such an idea comes from a strange Japanese RPG based around a classic story and not from some Sega-crafted Sonic title? The quick burst of speed as you give the rollerball a good flick, the smooth control around twists and turns once you get the hang of things, heck, Dorothy’s even decked in blue, as if she’s giving us an extra nod at what you could imagine this game being at times should you squint your eyes enough.

As utterly baffling as the whole thing comes off as at first, it doesn’t take that long before the idea sinks in and it all become second nature. I’m moving Dorothy around the world of Oz with a trackball like she’s a marathon runner because, well, that’s just what you do.

Dorothy’s Oz here is a world of paths and crossroads, one that is strict dungeon crawling with enough flair to sometimes trick you into forgetting that you’re playing a dungeon crawler. Forks in the road provide signs were you can leave marks to remind yourself what lies down each path, and those paths often stretch out into a number of twists and turns before you come across a second intersecting path, the means of transporting to another area, or a dead end offering up treasure or the switch you’ve been searching for in order to open up a previously inaccessible route. Oz‘s dungeon design–in terms of construction–feels strangely uneven, where interesting multi-path exploration may then be broken up by singular paths that are unnecessarily long seemingly just for the sake of being long. There’s a fine line between dungeon crawling feeling exciting and tedious, and I wish that Oz had understood the exacts of that line a bit better.

Where the world of Oz never fails is in its presentation. Simple put, this may be one of the most beautiful 3D games I’ve ever come across on the DS. The game’s four main areas–Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter–are all distinct and carefully-crafted, and the first thing I did upon entering every new area in each was stop for a moment to appreciate what lay before me. The dungeons are simply gorgeous, not just because of the tech that Media.Vision somehow got running on the DS, but because of how that tech was used to bring to life worlds rich in detail, color, and creativity.

Being an RPG, there are of course the required array of monster battles, all (thankfully) initiated by running into monsters also present in the dungeons versus the worn-out “random battle” idea. Oz‘s combat engine is another area in which it does things a bit different: the player has four turns in each round of combat, and what you can accomplish in those turns is governed by a character ratio system. Dorothy and the Scarecrow each have a ratio of 1, so four full turns can be taken with any combination of the two. Lion has a ratio of 2, so he can be active twice, or he can take one turn with two open slots for ratio-1 characters. Finally, Tinman, being the big bruiser of the group, has a ratio of 3, so if used a full round would consist of one turn from him and one turn from a ratio-1 character.

Within five minutes of starting the game, you’ll have assembled your full party as Dorothy makes her way down the yellow brick road in order to speak to the all-powerful Oz. (Who, it seems, is waiting for you to show up so he can task you with doing his dirty work.) So, as bringing together your party is taken care of right away, part of the strategy required for combat comes from deciding who you’re going to use in battle when and how. Each character is strong against a particular type of enemy, and progression in the game will unlock special abilities for each that will then play even more into careful decisions of who to use. (Your party line-up can be changed after each round, however, so there’s no worry of having to plan ahead for who to take with you into a fight.) Combat from there resembles a typical classic RPG, but one other interesting note is that, each round, the game will suggest its recommended actions for the next round based on who you currently have active in the battle. This is often a handy feature, as the game will automatically have a character target who they’re strong against, but it can also result in a bit of frustration, as you notice after it’s too late that you’ve told the game to go ahead and burn through those healing potions that you had been saving for a later time.

It pays to avoid the “mash the button to speed up combat” mindset sometimes, I guess is what I’m saying.

What I remember most about all of those interesting Dreamcast games that I played and enjoyed back in the day was that, while I wouldn’t consider a lot of them to be among the high-ranking blockbuster titles of the world, their charm and eagerness to bring me enjoyment helped me to overlook their flawed and awkward moments. The same, I would say, is true of The Wizard of Oz: Beyond the Yellow Brick Road. Sometimes it is flawed, and sometimes it is awkward, but it was still a strange and wonderful experience from beginning to end, and a reminder of why I’m such a sucker for the Nintendo DS and its quirky offerings.

Half-Minute Hero Review

When 2009 comes to a close and we look back to reflect on the year now behind us, a countless amount of lists will emerge that attempt to run down, in order, the “best” or “worst” of varies things over that past year. This will, of course, also happen in our little video game industry, and while not all of the nominations or winners may yet be clear, it isn’t hard to make an educated guess (or two) at what may be up for awards.

For example… oh, I don’t know… perhaps the media darling Scribblenauts. It is inevitable that the game will not only be nominated for a number of awards recognizing the “most exciting”, or “most creative”, or “most unique” game of 2009, but that it will also go on to win a number of said awards. And, really, it should! Scribblenauts was indeed exciting, and creative, and unique, and deserves every bit of praise that it has had heaped upon it from press and gamers alike.

My vote, however, may now no longer be able to be tossed into its pile.

The reason for this is that I’ve fallen passionately in love with a little game called Half-Minute Hero. Not the platonic kind of love that one can find themselves feeling for a game they’ve come to enjoy, but a deeper, more heart-felt love, the kind where you leave the PSP turned on at night, sitting beside your bed, so that you can fall asleep in the comfort of the screen’s soft glow as the game’s soundtrack sings to you like a lullaby.

How do I explain what makes Half-Minute so special?

It starts with an idea: our hero–-named by default, unsurprisingly, “Hero”–-is pitted against a cavalcade of ne’er-do-wells, all intent on casting a spell taught to them by a nefarious magician. The spell will bring total annihilation to the world, and takes but thirty seconds to cast.

I have, again and again, bemoaned Japanese RPGs for including the “stop the baddie in time” segments where in reality I could explore around, do some levelling, play a mini game or two, and still magically make it before the imaginary doomsday clock ran out. Here, somebody had the crazy idea to take that one simple plot device and create an entire game around it.

So, what does this mean? That you have exactly thirty seconds to save the world, or it’s game over? Well, actually, yes. Er, and no. The idea is first introduced after you’ve arrived at a new land, where you meet a king who asks for help in protecting his kingdom from evil. Valiant hero that you are, it’s off to the evil castle, which is, conveniently, no more than a five-second walk away. The spell is cast, you fight this introductory bastion of evil, you die, you head back to the castle to try again, time runs out, the spell is cast, the world ends, game over.

As you start wondering what in the world kind of sick joke this game is, from the heavens appears the Time Goddess, a deity with the power to control time. Stating that having the world end just won’t do, she decides to help you, offering up her services to turn time back to the start of when the spell was being cast. Well, offering her services so long as you’re willing to pay: she may be a goddess, but she also has a love of money, and is more than eager to help so long as you’re not stingy in sharing the spoils.

And thus, the game’s dynamic is created. You, as the Hero, must travel around the game’s world, stopping all of the miscreants ready to destroy said world at a moment’s notice, and doing so within a 30-second time limit where resetting those thirty seconds comes with a cost. Random battles fit in with the game’s sense of urgency and speed: your character automatically runs across the screen once in battle, and anything he touches he fights with until either he’s dead, he’s been pushed back off-screen due to the monsters being too strong, or he’s laid waste to whatever it was that previously stood before him. The 50-odd quests Hero must go through (almost) always end with a boss battle and the prevention of the spell being cast, but how you get to that point and what you must accomplish in order to do so differ with every challenge. In the early portions of the game, don’t be surprise to be able to finish a particular quest in just a little over a minute; later in the game, a “lengthy” quest may take all of five minutes.

That’s the what of Half-Minute Hero, or at least its main mode (more on that in a moment). But why is all of that so compelling? Maybe it’s the mix of old and new that we’re presented: an action RPG that plays to the youth of today and their impatience for games that don’t offer instant gratification, and an homage to the history of the Japanese take on the genre that both makes fun of the stereotypes and customs we’ve come to expect while also wrapping itself in them. Maybe it’s the fact that I can’t remember playing a game like this before, an especially wonderful feeling at a point when I’ve come to find so many games out there seeming like carbon copies of one another. Maybe it’s the wonderful retro stylings that the game offers up, and how much Half-Minute does with seemingly so little. (It says something when the blocky 8-bit sprite characters presented here at times show more personality and depth than a lot of characters from “real” RPGs.) Or maybe it’s the game’s wonderfully funny storylines and character dialog, all supported by a very well done English transition from XSEED.

What I know for sure is, not even ten minutes into Half-Minute Hero, I was in awe. The feelings I felt playing were the feelings of being a kid again, when video games were still new and exciting, when I could play a game and it could offer me something that I had never seen or played before. Having been a gamer now since the days of the Atari 2600, and earlier if we’re talking quarter spent at arcades, it’s hard for me to be swept away by games at this point, and even when I am, they’re still experiences that feel familiar in one way or another. Half-Minute Hero was different; it was that NES game I unwrapped on a birthday so many years ago, a game I never even knew existed until that day, and a game that, when I put it into Nintendo’s big grey box and powered it up, showed me a world unlike any my eyes had previously seen.

All of this is said only taking into consideration the game’s main “Hero” quest line. Along with that, Half-Minute Hero contains a number of other companion gameplay types, including a “shooter” mode, a real-time strategy mode, an a few other unlockables that I won’t spoil for you. Every one of the modes all have clear, basic concepts behind them, but the brilliant execution of those concepts is what keeps Half-Minute enjoyable and entertaining for the countless amount of minutes you’ll be spending with it. Mostly-brilliant execution, I suppose; the Princess-focused shooter quests really could have been better.

One of the benefits to working for Play is that we aren’t ashamed to admit when we’re fanboys (or fangirls) of a particular game, raving on and on about its virtues even if a more objective person might be a bit more critical in their review. Half-Minute Hero is a great game, there’s no question about that; it is ridiculously charming, immensely engaging, and a hell of a lot of fun. For me, personally, it was not only all of that, but also one of the most entertaining experiences I’ve had with a game this year.

It may not have the hype that Scribblenauts had, but damn it, it absolutely deserve it.

Persona Review

In 1988, I played a relatively unknown Master System RPG titled Phantasy Star, and it forever changed me as a fan of video games. Then, eight years later, another Japan-born role-playing romp would come along and leave an equally impactful mark on my life—the similarly obscure Atlus release Revelations: Persona.

Phantasy Star taught me that I loved JRPGs; Persona taught me what I wanted from them.

The harsh reality about games we used to love is that often that love can be questioned should we actually view them again with more mature eyes. For this reason, I was honestly hesitant to go back and revisit Persona via its PSP rebirth. The truth, I told myself, was that more likely than not, the game wouldn’t have stood the test of time as much as I might hope.

Boy, was I wrong. It probably took me all of about ten minutes to get back into the flow of Persona’s gameplay, and soon a feeling of shock came over me. Here I was, playing a thirteen-year-old RPG—a genre notorious for titles that end up feeling outdated a few years from launch–and I couldn’t believe how amazing and engrossing it still was.

The elements that cast their spell over my younger self—the group of every-day high schoolers dragged into something bigger than themselves, the dark and twisted storyline, the shocking (to me, at the time) level of demon interaction—it’s all still there, and every bit as enthralling as it was the first time around. Even more than that, however, was the realization that I was finally, after thirteen years, truly playing Persona. Yes, for this new PSP remake, Atlus has polished some things, added others and made for an overall better experience; and all of that is much appreciated. For us in the West, however, the biggest benefit we now receive is the chance to finally, after all this time, play the true and definitive version of the game. When it was released in 1996, the version of Persona we were given by Atlus USA was a Persona that had been heavily edited, and which had even seen its optional “Snow Queen Quest” storyline completely ripped out.

So, for me, this wasn’t just a question of playing some new release in order to write this review; it was the chance to finish what I had started so long ago. Even as it existed then, flawed and fragmented, the me from 1996 loved Persona from the minute he stepped foot into the halls of St. Hermelin High.

Now, at last, I could once and for all complete the journey that me had embarked on.

While I am waxing poetic about my adoration for Persona, however, let me be very clear on what it is—and what it isn’t. If you’ve come to be a fan of the series thanks to its PlayStation 2 chapters, then this original episode of the saga could very well feel like a punch to the face and a boot to the crotch. All the fun you’ve had getting chummy with the guys and gals surrounding your virtual self via the Social Link system is nowhere to be seen; and if you found Persona 3’s Tartarus to be a long, drawn-out dungeon-crawling experience, the 3D dungeons present here will derive devilish pleasure from kicking your ass and taking your name.

Simply put, you cannot go into Persona expecting the same kind of experience from the series that you can legitimately expect today. Persona looks, feels, and plays like an RPG from the days when RPGs were old-school, hard-core, and not afraid to make you work for everything that you earned. The game’s revival is a long-overdue event, and a wonderful way to go back and see the origins of the Persona franchise (or replay those origins for us longtime fans). Make no mistake, however; a love for where the series is now does not guarantee you’ll enjoy what it was then.

Rhythm Heaven Review

Honestly? I never expected Rhythm Heaven to come out in the United States. Its predecessor–a game known as Rhythm Tengoku on the GameBoy Advance–never came our way. Now, part of that was simply down to timing; it hit in Japan as the GBA was on its way out in favor of the DS, and by the time it had gone through localization and planning for a release over here it would have been even later to the party.

There was another reason that it ended up becoming a must-have import title and not a game given to the whole world, however; the game was very Japanese.

Crafted by the same team that had given us WarioWare, Rhythm Tengoku was a new submission to the rhythm/music gaming genre, and felt, not surprisingly, like what you might expect if the team that had given us WarioWare crafted a new submission to the rhythm/music gaming genre. WarioWare’s micro-games were traded for mini-games, as a whole series of unique gaming ideas were based around rhythmic timing and pieced together to craft a surprisingly coherent whole. One game might have you hitting the A button to help a batter stuck in a room floating in outer space hit tossed baseballs in time to the music; another had you tap-dancing on stage with a pair of monkeys.

Rhythm Tengoku’s style and silliness were very Japanese in nature, but even more, a number of the games were specifically Japanese either in regard to the kind of music they relied on or overall cultural elements that might not fully be appreciated by a Western audience (at least one that had no real knowledge of such things). Some companies might feel that these elements would add a charm to be appreciated by a more niche market, but a company like Nintendo typically thinks on much larger scales. For a game that already had timing going against it, a lot of work would have had to go in to Rhythm Heaven in order to make it Western-friendly; work that probably, at that point, simply wasn’t justifiable.

While Rhythm Tengoku was sadly under-appreciated in its home country, its sequel, Rhythm Tengoku Gold, has been completely the opposite. (The game was originally released in July of last year, and as of the last weekly sales data for Japan, RTG was the 22nd best selling game for the week. That’s a game with long legs sales-wise.) Though it still retained the charm and simplicity of the original Rhythm Tengoku, this new DS version not only had a more polished and appealing look and feel, but also a more universally-friendly one. Even so, I still had this deep down feeling that it would end up joining the “lost cause” club along with other Nintendo titles like Mother 3 and Tingle’s Rosy Rupeeland.

Well, here I am, proven wrong, and thank heaven I was. Nintendo announced the North American release of Rhythm Tengoku Gold—retitled Rhythm Heaven for our shores—and the game was released to the masses yesterday.

For this next part, let me break you folks out there down into two groups: the “have”s and the “have-not”s. I know, that may conjure up feelings of class superiority, but for our case, it’ll deal with those who have the Japanese release Rhythm Tengoku Gold, and those who will be coming to Rhythm Heaven with unbiased eyes. I promise you: in this case, there are no losers.

So, first, the have-nots. Why should you care about Rhythm Heaven? Do you have to like those wacky music games in order to appreciate it? Because it’s worth caring about, and no. Rhythm Heaven is a perfect example of the fun that video games can offer us in its simplest and purest form, and is undeniably one of the best DS titles ever to see release in that regard. WarioWare was a collection of quick challenges so basic in nature that anybody could accomplish them, but they were presented in a way that wasn’t friendly to everybody. Many games required you to attempt them before you even grasped the concept of what you were attempting, and stringing such tasks together in rapid succession always felt more like a game only for people who play games.

With Rhythm Heaven, interaction with the included challenges is still relatively simple; a tap of the touch screen, a held tap, or a flick of the stylus in a particular direction. Now, however, you’re invited to progress through what you’re presented at your own pace, instead of being asked to keep up no matter if you can actually do so. Every game in Rhythm Heaven starts with a detailed tutorial on what will be expected from you, and if you don’t get it right the first time, you just keep practicing until you do. Once a particular game is completely, you choose what happens next; either you go on to the next challenge, you replay what you just finished, or you can go back to that game you’ve already completed that still has its music stuck in your head.

What makes Rhythm Heaven the amazing experience that it is is that it is easily one of the best collections of mini-games that I can bring to mind. Just the words “mini-games” conjure up thoughts of collections of bite-sized concepts were a few are classics, a couple are enjoyable, but most are average at best. Heck, even with projects as carefully crafted as Mario Party, you’ll inevitably have some included mini-games that just don’t stand up so well over repeated play sessions. What Rhythm Heaven has accomplished, possibly even better than its GBA predecessor (a game I absolutely treasure), is developing concepts that would truly be enjoyable when played over and over and then seeing those concepts to fruition.

That step takes something really special–personality–and this is the key to Rhythm Heaven. Tapping in time to the music, stopping and starting the beat with the touch of your stylus, these are ideas that become lively or lifeless all dependent on the presentation. Every game in Rhythm Heaven doesn’t just have its own visual style and cast of characters, it has its own soul.

One of the games we are presented–“Big Rock Finish”–has you flicking the stylus up repeatedly in order to pull off a series of “big finishes” for a rock concert at which you are a guitarist. A ghost guitarist. Your bandmates? Ghosts as well. The drummer is overweight, and the lead singer wears glasses. The stage on which this mini concert is taking place is actually a table somewhere, and noting the size of the dinnerware, our ghost band actually seems to be a group of pint-sized spooks. Why exactly is this ghost band so tiny anyhow?

Details like that are what make Rhythm Heaven what it is. All of these games, which often may last a minute or so, or maybe less, exist in their own worlds, worlds crafted with only a minimal amount of graphics and sounds yet which convey so many things. Had this been a different game from a different company, Big Rock Finish would have had an awkwardly-crafted CG character with a standard-issue emo attitude and a guitar no doubt cover in flames or skulls or whatever. None of the elements of our ghost band are needed for the game they occupy; on a totally functional level, it could function without them. But we want them there; we want a reason to care.

Gameplay that seems so simple yet offers depth; audio and visuals that seem so simple yet offer personality. Those two elements create an experience in Rhythm Heaven that simply can’t be matched by so many other games. Yes, it will give you challenge if you want it, as simply clearing each game is only a temporarily solution until you go back to gold, and then perfect each. (Trust me, that is a challenge even longtime gamers will not find so easy.) But Rhythm Heaven can truly be enjoyed by everyone, and those who will have the most fun with what it has to offer are those who ask nothing from the game but the chance to relax, play a couple challenges, and have a smile put on their face.

No, I haven’t forgotten the “have”s out there, and I know what you’re asking: how well did Rhythm Tengoku Gold survive the translation to Rhythm Heaven? Pretty well, for the most part. Nearly nothing about the actual gameplay was touched, with the exception of a few small tweaks, such as the change in the outer-space soccer lifting game of the command to kick the ball from being a stylus swipe to a tap. (I’ve always been a tad iffy on the swipe controls in the game–a lot of them have felt completely unnecessary. So, this change was nothing but positive for me.)

Musically is where the major changes happened, as, not at all surprising, the tracks that originally featured Japanese lyrics now feature English ones. Here, I am happy (and relieved) to say that things went great for the most part, as we have been given songs in English that truly feel like they live up to their Japanese counterparts. “Most part”, I note, because two songs sadly did not fare so well, and what makes things worse is that they were my favorite songs in the original Rhythm Tengoku Gold. Pop Idol (now “Fan Club”) and Box Show (now “The Dazzles”) both have a female English-speaking singer that comes off with such a lack of enthusiasm in her voice that she sounds as if she lost a bet and had to sing these songs as her punishment. This problem is compounded by some very questionable lyrical choices for the English versions of these two songs. I also feel blasphemous for saying that, because the problem is the lyrics are too literal in their translation–and this comes from somebody who often wishes translations had been more literal. The problem here is that words and phrases are being sung in English that do not at all sound like they would be coming from the lips of an English speaker; our struggling pop idol’s cute catchphrase “kamo~ne” is now belted out as the somewhat awkward “I suppose”.

I am to understand that Tsunku, the infamous Japanese music producer that also handled both Japanese Rhythm Tengoku games, oversaw the songs as they were re-recorded in English. Part of me found this to be impossible, until I remembered that if there is one thing Morning Musume audition specials have taught J-pop followers, it is that Tsunku’s idea of what a “good” singer sounds like can sometimes border on the utterly insane.

Seriously; these two songs come off depressingly lame in English, and the importance of music to a music-based rhythm game is a little hard to ignore. Two hiccups in what is otherwise a completely fabulous game, however, are just that; two hiccups. I would have liked Rhythm Heaven’s English-language debut to have been 100% jawsomeness, but instead, it’s more like 97% jawesome, and really, that ain’t bad. If you own a DS, and you don’t own Rhythm Tengoku Gold, then you need to own Rhythm Heaven. I guess, you know, unless you hate things like “fun” and “happiness” and “joy”.

If you own the original Japanese version, you’ll either appreciate the ability to finally understand everything that’s going on, or you’ll find the English version to be just slightly less charming. Either way, if you do have an import copy sitting on your shelf, consider supporting the game’s North American release; especially since, maybe, just maybe, if the DSi ends up having some sort of “virtual handheld” set-up of its own, good sales for Rhythm Heaven may convince Nintendo of America to finally try giving the original Rhythm Tengoku a shot.

Trackmania DS Review

I am not a hardcore Trackmania player. Not for lack of interest, but instead for the fact that until last year my computer gaming options were limited to whatever scraps we Mac owners received. (Just to be clear, I didn’t end up switching to Windows or anything; I simply got an Intel-based Mac that can boot into Microsoft’s quaint OS experiment when need be.)

Absolutely positively not for a lack of interest, in fact. Being that I’ve always been more of a console gamer, few times have I truly felt jealousy over those games that I couldn’t play on my computing platform of choice, but Trackmania was unquestionably one of those times. Racing games where you tinker on and tweak your car in order to earn a particular license on an authentic replication of that one particular track in the forests of Germany? Not in a million years. Crazy, fast, arcade style racing, however, I’ve had a soft spot for when it came to certain titles. Trackmania, the first time I saw it, looked like what would result if you tossed a sports car onto the tracks of the world’s most ridiculous roller coaster.

That, my friends, was an idea for a game I could get behind.

I’ve played Trackmania–thanks in part to my insisting on a good friend getting it for his PC so that I could play–but I never had that chance to really own Trackmania and fully experience the game. So when I heard that the series was coming to the DS, I was filled with both excitement and utter shock. This series I had wanted to really get into for so long coming to my currently favorite gaming platform? Awesome!

I’m not sure which turned out to be the more surprising aspect of this project, however; the fact that developer Firebrand was crazy enough to try to take all of the epic racing action of the Trackmania series and somehow cram it into a DS (thus my utter shock), or the fact that they pulled it off to the level that they did.

Trackmania DS is not its PC older sibling; any expectations that it is should be squashed right now. This game does not reach the truly insane levels of death-defying stunts you can pull off in the PC version, nor does it contain any sort of online multiplayer. If you accept those points, and then take Trackmania DS for what it is, what you find is a legitimately impressive DS racing game that captures the spirit and heart of the Trackmania series in the palm of your hands.

The engine that Firebrand Games has put together here honestly is impressive. Jumps, ramps, loops, hairpin turns, drops, and other trademark Trackmania track pieces are here (just on a somewhat smaller scale), and while racing through them all the game keeps a steady frame rate. Your ability to see all that you’ll need to see to navigate each course isn’t perfect, however. While frame rate indeed was surprisingly not a problem, the simple act of cramming some of these tracks into a small DS screen unfortunately results in the occasional case where you’ll either have no clue where to go or won’t be able to see a hazard that you could have reacted to better on a bigger screen with a wider scope of view. A few times around the track, and you’ll get familiar with what you have to watch out for where; until that familiarity sets in, however, some of the courses can indeed be rather frustrating.

Speaking of courses, there are three main types available–Stadium, Desert, and Rally–each with its own specific car type that handling style. D-pad control can sometimes be hit or miss for racing games, but even with the Rally car and its extremely twitchy nature (which I actually ended up preferring after a while), once I got into the swing of things you can tell car handling via d-pad wasn’t an afterthought.

So, yes, while Trackmania‘s much-loved online gameplay isn’t available here, local multiplayer is at least an option. Stadium racer can be shared between friends via single cart download play, or up to four players that all own copies of the game can compete in the full roster of courses and multiplayer game types. Where you’ll probably end up spending most of your time, however, will be in the single player mode. Available to you are three main game types: Race (compete against recorded scores for the best time), Platform (things are less about shaving off time and more about avoiding obstacles and clearing jumps), and Puzzle (you’ve given a set amount of pieces to build a track that will get you from start to finish in the fastest time). Puzzle mode works off of the in-game track editor, a hallmark of the Trackmania series and something that thankfully wasn’t omitted in the move to the DS. The level editor you’ll find here is what I’d consider good, but not great; it gets the job done, no question, but in my playing around with it I never felt like it was quite as intuitive or easy to use as it should have been.

The track editor, I suppose, is a perfect example of the entire Trackmania DS project, and how hard it can be to take something that originally existed in a much grander scale and try to bring it to the portable world of the DS without losing any of the scope or spirit of the original game. In that regard, I consider that project a success. While it is not a game without faults, the simple fact that Firebrand Games were able to accomplish as much as they were is a feat by itself, and what they accomplished was created a game that is at the top of the DS racing game list in both technical and gameplay achievements.