Tag: Falcom

2493: Japan’s Great Games, and Their Lack of Coverage

This tweet from the Editor-in-Chief of gaming news site DualShockers caught my attention earlier tonight:

As regular readers will know, I’m a big fan of Japanese games and visual novels and will frequently wax lyrical at great length on the subject of my favourite titles. Hell, I even set up a whole new website — MoeGamer — to have a convenient place to put my more in-depth commentary on games that I’ve found particularly interesting.

Over the last couple of years — in particular since I started my JPgamer column on USgamer, and subsequently moved on to my MoeGamer project after I was laid off from the site — I’ve gotten to know a fair few “faraway friends” on the Internet thanks to a mutual love of games from Japan. And all of them — including me — feel the same way: it’s sad that almost the entirety of a whole country’s output gets thrown under the bus, usually in the name of “progressiveness”, and usually with woefully little understanding of the works they have cast aside.

Sure, the Final Fantasies (except XIV) and Souls games of the world still get plenty of column inches, but the rest, as Nelva points out in his tweet, is ignored at best, and treated appallingly at worst.

I found Nelva’s tweet noteworthy because it’s the first time I recall seeing a member of the games press (aside from me) come out with sentiments like this, outside of sites that specifically dedicate themselves to this sort of thing. As such, I thought it worth talking about a bit, and to draw particular attention to a number of noteworthy developers, publishers and series that are well-regarded and regularly praised among players, but which receive less than stellar treatment from the press.

Let’s talk about the Vita

Dear old PlayStation Vita. One of my favourite platforms of all time, and declared “dead” roughly every two months by some idiot who sees that there hasn’t been a Call of Duty game on it since the atrocious Call of Duty: Black Ops Declassified.

As a handheld gaming machine, Vita is never going to match the big boys in terms of power, and it doesn’t need to: when you’re playing something on the go, aspirations of being some grand cinematic masterpiece are largely wasted on a screen the size of an envelope. And this is why we don’t get any triple-A games on the platform.

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What we do get is an absolute shitload of Japanese games. What we do get is an absolute shitload of Japanese role-playing games — a genre frequently and erroneously declared “dead” alongside the Vita by people who don’t know what they’re talking about. What we also get is a bunch of visual novels and strategy games. And this is just Japan we’re talking about, remember; all this is on top of all the great indie titles we get from Western developers.

There are a number of developers out there who put out their games on Vita as their lead (or only!) platform. And if these games got any coverage, it would be plain as day to see that the Vita is far from dead; there are plenty of great new games coming out for it on a monthly basis, many of which hail from Japan.

Let’s talk about “progressiveness”

It’s the current fashion in the games press to be as “progressive” as possible. That is to say, it’s fashionable to berate any games that feature attractive women or any kind of provocative, adult-leaning content as “problematic”, in the hope that frequent use of that word will make these critics look somehow educated and intelligent. In practice, all it does is undermine the other big argument these people make, which is that “games need to grow up”. You can have one or the other. You can treat gamers as adults and trust them to handle provocative content, or you can sanitise the medium to such a degree that everything becomes generic, inoffensive waffle.

The ironic thing about the supposed “progressive” arguments against these games — particularly against the ones that feature attractive women — is that they completely fail to explore the game on anything other than the most superficial level. It is, quite simply, “this game has women in short skirts with big boobs, so it’s bad”. This isn’t an exaggeration; this is a paraphrase of several Senran Kagura articles I’ve read from “progressive” games journalists.

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As I’ve written at great length over on MoeGamer, I find it interesting that a lot of these games from Japan actually handle some pretty weighty themes throughout, and do so sensitively and enjoyably. In some cases, games, much like anime, allow creators to explore aspects of society that are still somewhat “taboo” in parts of Japan, such as homosexual relationships.

Others set a great example by having an all-female cast, often with no mention of men or romantic entanglements whatsoever.

Others still have a point to make with their erotic or quasi-erotic content; a while back, for example, I wrote a lengthy piece about how Criminal Girls uses its S&M-themed ecchi content to reinforce the narrative’s key message about trust. Or there are works like visual novel The Fruit of Grisaia, in which its erotic content is used as part of the characterisation process, particularly when it comes to the character Amane, who is an aggressively sexual individual for reasons that become apparent later in her narrative arc.

In damning the majority of Japan’s cultural output on the grounds of “progressiveness”, the self-proclaimed “progressives” are ironically missing out on some of the most progressive games out there.

Let’s talk about Falcom

Let’s talk a bit about Falcom first of all. Falcom is a developer who has been around since pretty much the dawn of gaming, with its long-running Ys series arguably playing a defining role in the modern action RPG.

Of perhaps even greater note, meanwhile, the most recent installments in the Legend of Heroes series — Trails in the Sky and Trails of Cold Steel — are absolute masterworks in how to blend the best bits of Western and Eastern RPGs. They’re well-written with excellent characterisation (though admittedly too wordy for some), they have some of the most astonishingly detailed worldbuilding I’ve ever seen in a game through a combination of their visuals and their texts, and they’re simply great games, to boot. And yet, it’s rare to hear them mentioned, even by self-professed JRPG enthusiasts in the press.

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Why? Well, at least partly because they were on PSP and Vita as their lead platforms, though Trails in the Sky’s two currently available localised chapters have made the jump to PC since then. It goes back to what we said about the Vita before; it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you don’t cover the games, the platform withers, though at least in the case of the Trails series, there’s the formidable combination of XSEED’s enthusiastic social media team and plenty of fans who are more than happy to promote the series via word of mouth.

But it saddens me that there are probably a whole lot of people out there who have no idea that these games exist, or have no idea quite how good they are. That, surely, is the press doing these games a great disservice.

Let’s talk about Neptunia

And Idea Factory in general, while we’re on.

Idea Factory and its label Compile Heart have been very prolific over the last few years, and it’s fair to say that in the twilight of the PS3 era it took a while for them to find their feet. Titles such as Trinity Universe and Hyperdimension Neptunia were very much inferior to much of the platform’s other fare in technical terms, though those who played them will happily attest that they are both overflowing with charm to more than make up for their technological shortcomings.

Unfortunately, some people have never got past a bad experience they had with a game a few years back, and seemingly outright refuse to cover new titles from a company that has grown astronomically in popularity over the last few years — and, moreover, a company that has clearly learned from its mistakes, with each new game being better than the last by a considerable margin.

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This is most clearly demonstrated by the Neptunia series, which has gone from unknown niche-interest JRPG to full-on cultural phenomenon over the course of the last six years or so. People online love Neptunia. There’s fan art everywhere, there are role-players on Twitter, there are mods for popular Steam games to insert the characters, there are people using Source Filmmaker to create their own Neptunia dioramas and videos — and, of course, there are the games, which tend to enjoy solid sales on console platforms (typically Vita, though the most recent mainline installment jumped to PS4) and then again a few months down the line when they hit PC.

Neptunia games still aren’t the most technologically advanced games on the market, but what they have always had since day one is an absolute ton of soul — not to mention the aforementioned progressiveness thanks to homosexual characters and a strongly capable all-female main cast — and something which is very much underexplored in gaming as a whole: satirical humour. Their developers know what the players want from a Neptunia game, and they provide it. And they are widely loved as a result.

Coverage? Some idiot on Kotaku writing about how the animated Live2D character sprites in the dialogue sequences freak them out. And little else.

I love Neptunia, as you know. But even if I didn’t, it would seem very strange to me not to acknowledge something that is so popular on the Internet at large that it’s frequent meme fodder. And yet that’s exactly what happens with today’s games press: it doesn’t fit the unwritten criteria, so it doesn’t get explored.

Let’s talk about overlooked games

I played through the visual novel Root Letter recently and had a great time with it. I only knew about it because it happened to catch my eye one day when I was browsing the publisher’s other works. I’ve barely seen a peep about it on other websites. I, meanwhile, wrote a bunch about it here.

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In the case of Root Letter, the press can’t even play the progressive booby card to refuse to cover it: Root Letter has no ecchi content whatsoever, instead adopting an art style that features hand-drawn characters and “painted” backdrops of real locations in Japan. On top of looking beautiful, it’s the start of a new series from a fairly major publisher in Japan (Kadokawa) and, judging by the speed we got an English version over here, it looks likely that we’re going to see the other installments shortly after their native versions, too. Not only that, it’s noteworthy in that it focuses not on a group of teenagers as many other Japanese works do, but instead on a group of 33-year olds.

Let’s talk about why this happens

We all know why this happens: clicks. What games critic has time to cover obscure Japanese games when they could be raking in the clicks by posting meaningless, needless “guide content” for Watch Dogs 2 or Call of Duty? I know, I’ve been there, done that.

The thing is, this approach to content strategy becomes a vicious cycle. These games remain popular at least partly because they’re always plastered all over the major gaming sites, and the relentless pursuit of This Tuesday’s Article On The Big Game That Came Out Last Week does damage to gaming criticism as a whole because it gives needless amounts of attention to titles that already have a ton of attention on them thanks to their astronomical marketing budgets.

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What I’d really like to see is more sites making a specific effort to go out of their way to cover games that are a little more off the beaten track, but which still have cultural significance of some sort — whether it’s the popularity of something like Neptunia, or the self-conscious maturity of Root Letter — and helping to broaden the medium for everyone. Some sites already make an effort to cover Western indie games in this regard, and while there are occasionally some questions to be asked over whether certain games would be covered if the developer and the writer weren’t friends with one another, I feel it’s more important to note that this is a start.

While we’re on, what I’d also like to see is a complete end to the mockery of Japanese games in the press, particularly by those who clearly have no intention of attempting to engage with a game. No-one should be mocking anyone else’s taste — particularly those in positions of power as “tastemakers”; live and let live.

The insufferable “progressive” crowd are always going on about “diversity”, so what I would very much like to see is an acknowledgement of Japan in 2016 as part of that diversity. There’s still a rich flow of quality games coming out of that country on a monthly basis, and as Nelva noted in that tweet that sparked off this whole entry, very few of them that don’t have Souls or Fantasy in their title get a look-in. Wouldn’t it be great to see that change?

I’m not going to hold my breath, mind you. In the meantime, well, I’ll do what I can with MoeGamer — so please, show your support if you like what you see.

2361: Up to Date on Ys

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Just in time to cover it extensively this month over on MoeGamer, I’m finally up to date on the Ys series, as I finished Memories of Celceta tonight.

I’m glad I finally took the time to play through it all, as it really is a remarkable series that has evolved considerably since its humble beginnings. I’ll save the history lesson for MoeGamer, though, and talk a bit about Memories of Celceta specifically.

Memories of Celceta builds on what Ys Seven started, and does it very well. While Ys Seven felt a little bit clunky at times — at least partly due to the fact that it was running on the crusty old PSP hardware — Celceta feels much more fluid and refined. It’s not perfect — the poor old Vita struggles to keep the framerate up when there’s lots happening on screen, but it never really becomes a problem. No, I’m talking more about the gameplay; combat is fluid and satisfying, and the skills each character has all feel a lot more distinct than the rather feeble ones you had for the majority of Seven. Different characters have clear purposes, both in and out of combat, and each one is enjoyable to fight as.

The thing I liked the most about it, I think, was the emphasis on exploration. The central concept of the game is that protagonist Adol is exploring the uncharted forest of Celceta, a job well suited to an adventurer such as he. Indeed, your progress in the game roughly corresponds to your progress uncovering the surprisingly sprawling map, and by the end of the game you’ll be at, or at least close to, 100% of the forest being mapped out.

And it’s an interesting forest, too, with plenty of distinct areas rather than remaining uniformly green and leafy throughout. There are plains-like clearings, towering mountains, crystalline lakes and damp, soggy marshland. Later in the game there’s the Ashen Forest, which is a beautiful, almost otherworldly area bathed in a curious sparkling, purple mist.

I found myself missing the “jump” button from Oath in Felghana and its ilk less in Celceta than I did in Ys Seven. This is because the maps were overall better designed and more interesting to explore. Ys Seven’s dungeons in particular weren’t bad as such, but it’s clear that technological limitations, at times, held Falcom’s designers back a bit from making some really interesting levels.

I particularly liked the various “artifacts” you acquire throughout Celceta, many of which provide you with new traversal abilities in true Metroidvania tradition. The Hydra Scales, for example, allow you to swim underwater and reach otherwise inaccessible chests and areas, while the Gale Boots allow you to run incredibly fast, even straight up certain walls. The controls for some of these non-standard means of traversal are occasionally a bit wobbly — steering the Gale Boots is near-impossible, so you better line up before you unleash them, for example, and combat underwater is a terrible experience proving that Falcom, unfortunately, didn’t learn anything from Ys Origin’s excellent underwater section — but they never get in the way of gameplay, because they’re usually required only to bypass a particular obstacle, at which point you can just get back to doing what Adol does best — hacking and slashing through hordes of enemies.

I won’t spoil anything, but the finale was fantastic, too. The Ys games have all had excellent finales so far, and Celceta certainly didn’t disappoint with a particularly strong final confrontation and the unusual move of having a few things extra to do after the “final” boss. It was dramatic, exciting — and, perhaps most importantly, extremely relevant to the overall Ys lore, which, again, is something that Falcom excels at. By now, the lore of the world of Ys is extremely well-realised, with each new game bringing us new information about a region or country; effectively, we learn about these lands alongside Adol as he continues his quest to see every part of the world “without shortcuts”.

I’m a total convert to Ys, then, and you better believe I’ll be all over Ys VIII when it inevitably comes West. In the meantime, have a rest, Adol Christin, you’ve definitely earned it.

2348: I Beat Ys Seven

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I beat Ys Seven tonight. That leaves just one more Ys game to play through before I’ve beaten every one of the currently available games in the series, making me eminently ready for Ys VIII, whenever that makes its way West, because it almost certainly (hopefully) will.

Ys Seven is an interesting change after the three games built on the Ys VI engine — Ys VI, Oath in Felghana and Ys Origin. I kind of miss some of the defining aspects of those three games — most notably the platforming elements, which are completely absent from Seven — but Seven very much does its own thing and takes ownership of it, creating an experience that is satisfying in its own right, even if it’s a slightly jarring change of pace initially.

The first thing to note about Ys Seven is that it’s at least twice the length of previous Ys games. This still puts it at well under the average length of a typical JRPG these days — it took me 24 hours to beat on Normal — but makes it feel significantly longer than the previous titles. This isn’t a bad thing, though; along with the greater length comes greater scope: Ys Seven’s narrative feels more ambitious and, for want of a better word, epic than its predecessors; while past Ys games felt very much like you were taking care of business in a small, localised area, Ys Seven does a good job of making you feel like the fate of a whole country is at stake. There’s a sprawling overworld to explore, and several villages, each with their own unique aesthetic.

This rather more sprawling scale comes at a slight cost: while past Ys games’ small geographical area meant that pretty much every character in the game had a name and a story to tell, Ys Seven’s NPCs, for the most part, feel quite a bit more generic. This is partly due to the fact that none of them have names, instead being called things like “Obliging Maid” and suchlike — with the curious exception of questgivers, who all have very Western names like “Kevin Lassiter” — but I suppose it does help keep the focus on the main cast, which, in keeping with the rest of the experience, is significantly bigger than previous Ys games.

Even your party is bigger. Adol is no longer alone, bringing up to two companions in tow this time, and there’s a reason for this: enemies now have various resistances, meaning you need a balanced party that can cover all types of damage, otherwise you simply won’t be able to kill some enemies. For most of the game, there’s little reason to switch out from the default party of Adol, longtime companion (but first time playable) Dogi and whoever fills the third slot at that point in the party, but upon reaching the final boss the reason for the total squad size being seven members becomes clear. Be sure to keep everyone’s equipment up to date — thankfully, inactive characters gain experience at the same rate as the front line, so there’s no need to go out of your way to grind too much.

One aspect of the game that feels very different comes when you’re fighting a boss. Whereas in past Ys games boss fights were almost puzzles and dexterity challenges, where you’d have to dodge incoming attacks and take advantage of openings, Ys Seven’s bosses are often damage sponges that, at least on Normal difficulty, feel like they can be beaten more through brute force than anything. On the harder difficulty levels I can see them being stiffer challenges, because you’re more limited in the healing items you can carry, but certainly on Normal, I could get through most bosses without too much difficulty by just making sure I had enough potions on hand. It wasn’t until the final boss, which has significantly more complex mechanics than any of the other fights in the game, that I found myself having to be a bit more careful with what I was doing.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; Ys Seven’s boss fights are enjoyably hard work and feel like you’re struggling against a powerful opponent. Like a lot of other things in the game, though, coming straight off Oath in Felghana, Origin and Ark of Napishtim, it’s a bit of an adjustment for sure.

Above all, though, Ys Seven keeps the heart of Ys firmly intact. It’s wonderfully sincere about everything, but isn’t afraid to show a sense of humour now and again. That said, it’s overall considerably darker than any of the previous installments, particularly around the middle of the story, giving it a distinctive feel. It’s not overly grimdark or anything — it’s still a bright, colourful, earnest quest featuring a silent protagonist who quite literally lives for adventure — but it was a little surprising to see things like a shirtless Adol getting tortured in a jail cell after a particularly dramatic revelation partway through.

I enjoyed it a lot, in other words. Now I just have Memories of Celceta to go and I’m up to date. And then I will have to physically restrain myself from going back to the beginning and doing a Nightmare run, I feel…

2336: From the Shores of Felghana

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I started Ys: The Oath in Felghana today after finishing the main story of Ys Origin. (I do intend to go back and replay Origin on the harder difficulties as well as grind through its extra modes and unlockables, but that will be a gradual process!) So far I’ve played about two hours or so into the main story, beaten four bosses and yelled more curse words at a game than I can remember doing for a very long time.

Oath in Felghana is hard. Really hard. Like, really really hard. I did not know this going in, so feeling quite confident off the back of clearing Ys Origin (which was challenging, but not mega-hard) I thought I’d start Oath on Hard rather than Normal.

I started to think that I had maybe made the wrong decision when the first boss took me a good ten attempts. When the second one took me probably twenty or thirty tries — including having to stop after a few attempts because I was getting pretty wound up by the whole thing — I seriously considered restarting on Normal or Easy, but my pride prevented me from doing so.

Then I beat that boss, and I remembered what I had discovered during my first runthrough of Ys Origin. Ys games, so far as I can tell, are not games intended to be breezed through without any resistance whatsoever. They’re short, yes, but whenever their diminutive length is quoted, it isn’t taking into account all the times you’ll have to retry the difficult bits. Because you’ll have to retry the difficult bits a lot. In other words, Ys Origin and Oath in Felghana may well be “10 hours long”, but that figure assumes that you’ll beat all the bosses first time and won’t make any stupid mistakes while exploring lava-covered ruins. And I can assure you that you won’t beat all the bosses first time, and you most certainly will make stupid mistakes while exploring lava-covered ruins.

This difficulty makes it all the more satisfying, though. There’s a feeling of genuine “release” when you finally overcome a difficult challenge, and much like Ys Origin, I’ve found that while the bosses in particular are difficult, you’ll almost certainly find yourself getting a little bit further each and every time you try, rather than stagnating with absolutely no idea whatsoever what to do. Oath, like Origin, is so well designed that it manages to “train” you how to beat its bosses without giving you any explicit instructions. The animation and sound cues, the attack patterns, the overall “rhythm” of the encounters — all of them are carefully tuned to make each encounter surprisingly intuitive, and while many of them aren’t especially complicated in terms of mechanics, you’ll need to practice in order to perform what the game is asking of you flawlessly. And you will need to be as close to flawless as possible, because Oath in particular is very unforgiving.

It’s funny. The Souls series kicking my ass and forcing me to learn encounters is one of the things that ended up putting me off it, but I’m really enjoying it in the Ys series. This leads me to believe that it’s perhaps not this actual style of game that puts me off, but the aesthetic; Ys is colourful, cheerful and energetic, while Souls is dark, dreary and depressing. While there’s a time and place for dark, dreary and depressing, I tend to prefer that sort of thing in my survival horrors and adventure games; when I’m RPGing, I want to be heroic in a colourful fantasy land filled with pretty girls. And Oath in Felghana is certainly delivering on all fronts so far.

2335: Goddesses

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I finished Ys Origin’s true route this evening, and if the first two games hadn’t already convinced me this is a series that will stay with me a long time, that ending would have certainly done it. The way it establishes the backstory of things that are just a matter of course in Ys I and II is beautiful, and it brings a whole new layer of meaning to the overarching storyline and mythology of the series. I’m looking forward to seeing how — if? — this mythology fits into the games I’m yet to play.

The thing that’s struck me most from these three games in the series that I’ve played so far is how beautifully the goddesses Reah and Feena are handled. It’s hard to tell whether this is the work of the original Japanese script or Xseed’s excellent localisation, but either way, they’re wonderfully depicted characters that act as an important centrepiece to these three episodes of the overall storyline.

The most striking thing about them is how overwhelmingly nice they are. And I don’t mean in a bland, uninteresting way; both Reah and Feena are convincingly friendly, approachable characters despite being divine beings, and there’s a decent amount of the backstory in Ys Origin in particular that deals with their loneliness and desire to have friends among the humans rather than being revered as the powerful beings they are. Indeed, even in Ys I where series protagonist Adol Christin encounters an apparently amnesiac Feena, she seems keen to cling on to him and develop a close personal relationship.

They’re a study in contrasts, too, despite being similar in appearance and bearing. Feena is kind and gentle — the sort of person it would probably be nice to have a hug from. Reah, meanwhile, is more willful and stubborn, but counterbalances this with a similarly graceful demeanour and a desire to always be hospitable to those who have the confidence to approach and address her. They make a good pair, and while we don’t see a huge amount of either of them in the first two Ys games, this is more than made up for in Ys Origin, where we get to spend quite a bit of time with both of them.

Perhaps the nicest thing about them is the feeling that the Ysian religion, based on following the teachings of the Six Priests and worshipping Feena and Reah, is both plausible as a belief system and comforting. It’s not infallible, by any means, either — indeed, Toal comments to the goddesses in Ys Origin that they are “barely even half perfect”, and it’s partly everything the goddesses and their helpers put in place that led to the apocalyptic situation that greets you from the outset of Ys Origin — but it’s obvious that the goddesses, both as people and as mythological figures, bring great comfort to the populace. In a world where JRPGs in particular often take rather ruthless aim at religion as part of their narratives, highlighting the negative aspects rather than the positives, the Ysian approach to belief systems is almost refreshing.

I think that sums up the tone of the series quite nicely, too. While there’s plenty of darkness, evil and unpleasantness going on — arguably more so in Ys Origin than in I and II — there’s an overall warm feeling to the series that brings to mind comforting childhood stories like fairy tales and fables. I anticipate that this feeling will become stronger as I spend more time with regular series protagonist Adol in the subsequent games, but the three distinct stories in Ys Origin unfolded in a compelling, interesting manner, too; they presented a convincing back story to what unfolds 700 years later in Ys I and II, and I’m left with an almost overwhelming desire to immediately go back and play I and II again having seen what Origins’ story had to offer.

I’ll save that for now, though; I’ve still got Oath in Felghana, Ys VI, Ys Seven and Memories of Celceta to get through. And I’m looking forward to all of them.

2332: A Musical Journey

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Let’s try a little experiment, shall we? I’m going to start with a YouTube video of a piece of music I really like. Given that I’ve just come off a session of Ys Origin, let’s make it a piece from Ys Origin. After that I’m going to see where the Related Videos take us, and we’ll go on a little journey. I’ll try and give a bit of useless trivia for each track.

To give things a bit of variety (though I’m not promising quite how much!) I’ll pick the first Related video that isn’t 1) a Recommendation for me based on past viewing and 2) from the same game, movie, whatever as the previous one.

Ready? Here we go.

This is the theme that plays in the final area of Ys Origin, and I particularly like it because it uses one of my favourite soundtrack techniques: making use of the main theme in a different way to how it sounded originally. When used in a finale sequence, as it is here, it gives the whole thing a nice feeling of “closure” — or at least of approaching the end, anyway.

To put it more simply, effective use of this technique can get you seriously pumped for the final battle. And Ys Origin certainly does it well.

Onward!

I haven’t played Ys: The Oath in Felghana yet, but it’s probably next up after I finish with Ys Origin. As such, this is the first time I’ve heard this piece, and I’m pleased to hear that it has Falcom’s distinctive prog rock-inspired sound about it. While I don’t really know a lot about prog rock itself, I do like the sound of music inspired by it, and it seems there are a number of Japanese groups that do it very well — Falcom’s sound team being one. (Nobuo Uematsu’s bands The Black Mages and The Earthbound Papas are some others, though they do arrangements of game music rather than directly soundtracking games for the most part.)

Unsurprisingly, YouTube is taking us on a distinctly Ys-ian journey. Again, I haven’t played this game, so it’s my first time hearing this track, and initial impressions are good. Again, it has the melodic rock sound to it, but it also makes use of some violin melodies, which I often find sound really nice in the context of instruments you might not typically associate violin with. Other examples of this being done well include its combination with electronic instruments in Final Fantasy XIII’s main battle theme, and as part of a distinctly modern-sounding pop ensemble in Omega Quintet’s two battle themes.

Yet another Ys I’m yet to get to, and I know I have at least a couple of friends who count this soundtrack among their favourites. The timbre of this one’s soundtrack is a little “cleaner” and perhaps more artificial-sounding; there’s certainly some synthesised brass going on, but the guitars and solo violins sound fairly convincing.

The slightly more artificial sound of the music is presumably down to Ys VI being an earlier release than Oath in Felghana and Origin, and Falcom’s sound team still refining and developing their sound with new tech and capabilities.

We’ve escaped the Ys series! And we find ourselves involved with another Japanese video game company’s internal sound team that is world-renowned as being Rather Good. In this case, we’re with Gust, developers of the Atelier and Ar Tonelico series, both of which have simply lovely soundtracks.

This particular piece is from one of their slightly lesser known games, Mana Khemia, which is often regarded as part of the Atelier series due to its thematic and mechanical similarities.

And speaking of Atelier, here’s a track from one of the more recent ones. It very much sounds like the distinctive sound Gust has put together for the Atelier series over the last few installments, featuring prominent use of traditional “folk-style” instruments such as harmonica and penny whistle.

I’m also a big fan of this track’s title.

Staying with Atelier and moving forwards in time, this is from Escha and Logy, a game I don’t know a lot about but know is reasonably well regarded in the Atelier canon. There’s a pretty cool guitar solo in the middle of this track, too.

And we’re up to the most recent Atelier game, Atelier Sophie, and a track with a pretty magnificent rhythm guitar part. There’s also a hint of Nights of Azure in there with the prominent use of harpsichord/clavichord. In fact, this whole track wouldn’t be out of place in Nights of Azure.

YouTube agrees. Nights of Azure was a really great game that I enjoyed a lot, and a big part of that was due to its wonderful soundtrack, also the product of Gust’s sound team, but clearly heavily inspired by Michiru Yamane’s work on the older Castlevania games. This sort of Gothic rock is perfectly fitting with the game’s fast action and overall tone, and contrasts nicely with the more gentle music used in its story sequences.

Let’s do two more, or we’ll be here all night. This one’s from Megadimension Neptunia V-II, a game which I’m sure you already know I liked a whole lot. This particular track was one of my favourites due to its heavy use of some distinctly retro-sounding synthesisers, which brought to mind a few things: the synthesised music of Sega Mega Drive/Genesis games, and the once-fashionable .MOD format of digital music, which effectively used short, digitised samples as “notes” on a virtual synthesiser-sequencer and allowed those who knew what they were doing to put together multi-track compositions.

Last one!

Eternal Sonata was an extremely peculiar concept for a game in that it’s an RPG based around the noted Romantic composer Frederic Chopin. In keeping with that, the soundtrack has a distinctly Romantic feel to it, with authentic orchestral instruments used to give the music a very different feel to more obviously “gamey” pieces. The game also used some of Chopin’s work directly in its soundtrack.

2330: Play It Again

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So many games these days are designed to be played once and then put aside — or, in some cases, played forever and ever and ever and ever — that it’s been quite a refreshing feeling playing through Ys Origin for a second time on a harder difficulty with a different playable character. It’s making me quite nostalgic for the PlayStation 1 era in particular, and is reminding me somewhat of one of the earliest games I recall taking this sort of approach: Resident Evil 2.

Resident Evil 2 was actually really neat when it came to its multiple playthroughs. You’d play it once as one of the two lead characters, then play it again as the other lead to see what they were doing while the first lead was doing their thing. Then you’d start a new game as the other lead character, then play it again as the first lead character to see what they were doing while the other lead was doing their thing. Naturally this was a nightmare for continuity and meant that there wasn’t really a “definitive” version of the story, but it didn’t really matter: it meant you could go through the game four times and have a somewhat (albeit marginally) different experience each time.

But Resident Evil 2 — and indeed Ys Origin — didn’t stop there. No, there were unlockable secrets, once the preserve of the mysterious tips pages in games magazines, but these days discovered by people with a lot of time on their hands in seemingly minutes flat. And they’re significant secrets, too: Resident Evil 2 allows you to play an entirely new scenario as a character called Hunk as well as, rather oddly, a large block of tofu, while Ys Origin unlocks a third playable character after your first playthrough, then unlocks Time Attack, Boss Rush and Arena Modes after that, meaning that — assuming you want to carry on — the game is far from over when you’ve beaten the final boss with all the characters and seen all the story. And then there’s the various difficulty modes and achievements to play with, too — it ultimately makes the whole game considerably better value than it might first appear, with its 6-10 hour playtime for a single runthrough.

I kind of miss this approach. There was a feeling of discovery and excitement as you worked to unlock secrets and extras in games, and you felt good when you achieved it, finally, because it was the result of actually achieving something in the game. These days, however, extra modes and stories are all too often the preserve of DLC, which just doesn’t have the same magic at all, largely because you have to 1) pay for it and 2) don’t have to earn it to unlock it.

I know not everyone likes having to unlock things to be able to enjoy it all, but it’s always been something I’ve liked, and a fundamental part of many gaming experiences. Ys Origin — and, I anticipate, the other Ys games I’m yet to work my way through — is proving to be a pleasantly enjoyable reminder of The Good Old Days in more ways than one, and just another reason I’m becoming increasingly enamoured with both the series and Falcom as a developer.

2329: Another Trip Up Darm Tower

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I finished my first playthrough of Ys Origin earlier. I chose to play through for the first time with Yunica Tovah, who apparently handles most like Adol in the subsequent 3D Ys games, but now I’m going through it again with Hugo Fact, who plays impressively differently.

One thing that struck me with Ys II in particular, and it appears to be a pattern that continues with Origin and its ilk, is how much shoot ’em up DNA is in this series. Numerous bosses have distinctly “bullet hell”-style attacks requiring intricate dodging and pattern recognition, for example, but this connection is most obvious when playing Origin as Hugo, since even his basic attack involves firing bullets. Hell, he even has two “options” (sorry, “The Eyes of Fact”) floating either side of him to fire additional bullets, which double in number when he uses Boost mode.

It’s interesting quite how different a feel this contrasting playstyle provides, since you’re otherwise going through pretty much the same levels and boss fights as in Yunica’s story, albeit with different cutscenes and a few minor changes here and there. Boss fights in particular are a very different affair when playing as Hugo, since rather than it being necessary to get in melee range as with Yunica, as Hugo you have to play a lot more defensively, attacking from range in suitable openings and taking great care to avoid attacks, since Hugo is considerably squishier than Yunica is. Not only that, but Hugo’s individual attacks do quite a bit less damage than Yunica’s axe and sword swings, though he makes up for this by being able to attack 1) from a distance and 2) much more rapidly than Yunica.

I’m also playing this second runthrough on Hard difficulty; I’m not quite brave enough for the series’ signature Nightmare difficulty yet, but I thought I’d step things up for Hugo, since I felt pretty confident with Yunica by the end of my first playthrough. It’s noticeably harder, particularly when it comes to boss fights. I’m not entirely sure if this is down to enemies’ boosted stats or simply the different way Hugo plays that I haven’t quite gotten used to yet, but I’m finding myself having to retry boss fights more times than I did on Normal with Yunica.

One of the things I like about Ys Origin so far is that although the boss fights are very difficult, I don’t think there’s been a single encounter in the game where I felt like I was beating my head against a wall. In other words, although I might fail a boss fight several times in succession, I’d make noticeable progress each time, chipping away a little further at the enemy life bar each time until I was eventually successful. It’s a matter of practice and skill rather than luck; in some ways, it reminds me quite a bit of Final Fantasy XIV raid bosses, where you need to know what’s going to happen in the fight before you can even think about being successful; flailing wildly isn’t going to work, at all.

Anyway. I’m keen to get through Ys Origin for a second time with Hugo, and then polish it off a third time with the “secret” third character, whose story is quite a bit different from Yunica and Hugo’s, from what I understand. By playing all three stories, you get the full narrative; this is an approach that some people find tiresome — particularly if they have to play through the same levels again with a different character, as you do here — but it’s something I always enjoy. I really enjoy seeing stories from multiple perspectives, and while Ys is fairly conventional fantasy in many ways, it’s well-written, well-localised and features some entertaining, endearing characters, so I’m more than happy to plough through it to see everything it has to offer.

Then after that, there’s Time Attack, Boss Rush and Arena Mode, of course, which I’m curious to at least try… so much for being a short game!

2312: After 1.5 Games, I Already Like Ys More Than Any Zelda I’ve Played

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A controversial statement, perhaps — and I make no apologies for a third post about Ys in a row — but one that I feel confident in making, even having only finished the first game and made it about halfway (I estimate?) through the second. (Aside: given how much I’ve enjoyed the first two games so far, you can count on a month of Ys over on MoeGamer at some point in the near future.)

Ys speaks to me in a way that Zelda never has. This isn’t to say that I don’t like Zelda, mind you — I count A Link to the Past, Link’s Awakening and Majora’s Mask among some of my favourite games of all time — but there’s something just… kind of magical about Ys that I’ve been delighted to discover over the past few days, and a little disappointed in myself that I never took the plunge and explored this series earlier.

Let me try to explain what I mean.

I think the thing that sticks out to me most of all is how Ys provides a much more coherent and continuous feeling in its narrative than Zelda does. The fact that Zelda games up until Link’s Awakening still referred to the various dungeons as “levels” made it pretty clear that despite the sprawling overworld in each instance, these were basically games designed on the same linear principles as more traditional action/arcade adventures. This very much gives Zelda games a feeling that persists today: a sharp demarcation between the overworld and the dungeons. This is not necessarily a bad thing, nor is it particularly unusual; many RPGs make this distinction, and massively multiplayer games in particular have an even more stark divide between the two types of content, with dungeons tending to be cooperative multiplayer affairs, while overworld action tends to be (for the most part) solo or social in nature.

But with Ys, there’s no such demarcation. The world is continuous and coherent, and consequently far more believable. You’re not pausing your exploration to get through the mysteriously puzzle-filled castle that happens to stand between you and your objective; you’re continuing your journey, exploring the world, fulfilling the promises you made to the people who believe in you. It’s a continuous, flowing process and narrative, rather than one that is heavily punctuated. Exploration flows into conversation flows into combat flows into more exploration; the only real punctuation comes in the form of the boss fights, which don’t necessarily come at as predictable points as in Zelda games.

This coherent feeling is particularly apparent in Ys II, which expands on the excellent worldbuilding of its predecessor. Characters move around as the story progresses, and they make reference to the places you find yourself travelling to. Sometimes you run across them on your travels as they get up to things independently of you; sometimes you’ll return from an adventure to find them acknowledging your deeds when you speak to them. Contrast with Zelda’s worlds, which tend to be rather static in nature; populated with weird and quirky characters in many cases, sure, but there’s not a lot of feeling of things going on while you’re not there, with the exception of Majora’s Mask, of course, where this sort of thing was the whole game’s central design tenet.

My friend Chris also points out that Ys makes him feel powerful, and he’s absolutely right. This is a big contrast between Ys and Zelda, and it’s partly due to the nature of the protagonist character. While both games sport a visually distinctive but mute self-insert character for the player to inhabit and play as they see fit, Zelda’s hero is a child, while Ys’ hero is a young adult. There’s always been an element of childish clumsiness to Zelda’s combat; even once the series moved into 3D with Ocarina of Time and started having more complex combat mechanics than a single attack button that always did the same thing, Link always felt… not incapable or incompetent as such, but like he perhaps wasn’t quite as comfortable holding a sword and shield as he perhaps should be. Which is understandable in several of the games, where he has the whole “Hero” thing kind of thrust upon him suddenly.

In the case of Ys, meanwhile, there’s a strong feeling that, when played well, you are overwhelming your enemy with superior skill and power. This is depicted differently in both Ys I and Ys II, despite both being based on the same fundamental “bump” system, which allows for button-free attacking and a style of gameplay where you never really have to stop moving.

In Ys I, the feeling of overwhelming power is brought about by the rather brief levelling curve: with a level cap of just 10, each one of those 10 levels is a significant jump in power for protagonist Adol. If you keep pace with where you’re “supposed” to be as you proceed through the story, you’ll take down most enemies in a single hit. It’s not until the very latter stages of the game, when you’ve been level 10 for a while, that you’ll come across enemies that need multiple hits to fell, and even then, no more than one or two extra hits.

In Ys II, meanwhile, the combat is rejigged so that individual hits do less damage, but you can inflict them incredibly quickly, particularly while attacking diagonally. You also push enemies backwards while attacking them, giving the combat a feel somewhat akin to the sport of fencing, where dominating your opponent and forcing them to move how you want them to move is key. In Ys II, careful, tactical movement of enemies — not shoving them into a large group of their friends, for example, nor pushing them into a corner behind a rock that makes it difficult for you to keep up the assault — is absolutely key, and getting it right is an immensely satisfying feeling completely unlike any other action RPG I’ve played.

Then you have things like the items. In Zelda, the items you unlock as you proceed through the game are predictable and are used based on clear, recognisable visual cues that stay the same throughout the game. In Ys, meanwhile, you might use each item only once or twice throughout the game in circumstances where it makes narrative sense to do so, not because it would make a good puzzle or dexterity challenge. This gives the game much more of a traditional “adventure game” feel to it, and I like that very much about it. In Ys II, there are also a number of items you can use in unconventional ways, too, and the game rewards experimentation with, for example, giving healing items as gifts to NPCs, or using the “Alter” magic to turn yourself into a Roo and talk to monsters. While very few of these things are necessary to complete the game, they, like so much else in these games, provide a lovely sense of a world that has been well thought out and beautifully crafted, particularly in these revamped Chronicles+ versions that I’m playing on PC.

This is all my opinion, of course, and doubtless there are some die-hard Zelda fans out there who would feel the complete opposite to me — and doubtless some other people out there who would gleefully point out that Ys and Zelda aren’t really directly comparable at all — but so far, I don’t feel it’s premature to say that I’m already in love with this series, and intend to devour as much of it as I can in short order. Count on further enthusing as and when that happens.

2311: I Finished My First Ys

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It’s something of a novelty these games to start and beat a game over the course of a couple of days — particularly an RPG — but with Dungeon Travelers 2 being considerable in both length and difficulty, I felt that a palate cleanser of some sort was in order before I tackled the remaining 15+ floors of that game’s final dungeon. I considered picking up the new Doom, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to spend that much on it, so instead, as I noted yesterday, I turned to the Ys series.

This evening, I beat Ys I. Here are some things I thought about it.

Things I liked

  • That music! The PC version I was playing has three mixes of the soundtrack available: the original FM version, a remastered MIDI version from a later incarnation and a full-on rock the fuck out version from Falcom’s in-house band. I must confess I didn’t try the two earlier versions, as Falcom’s band is pretty damn amazing. Wailing guitars and pounding drumbeats complemented the action perfectly, and brought a pleasantly nostalgic feeling over me, making me think of both Castlevania: Symphony of the Night (which had plenty of widdly-diddly guitars) and my brother (who was always very good at widdly-diddly guitars when I was growing up).
  • Levelling up is meaningful. There are ten experience levels in Ys I. Each one is a significant jump in power. From level 1 to level 2 is the difference between taking 4 or 5 hits to kill an enemy and being able to splatter it in a single hit. Your power continues to increase hugely as the game progresses.
  • You have an HP bar that gets bigger. I don’t know why I like this, I just do. I liked it in Metal Gear Solid, I liked it in Kingdom Hearts and I like it here. It’s a satisfying visual representation of your growth in power.
  • Your HP bar shows how much damage the last hit you took chipped off. This is really nice. Similar to how fighting game health gauges work, your HP bar in Ys highlights the amount of damage the last hit gave you in a brighter shade of red so you can estimate roughly how many more individual hits you can take before needing to worry about healing.
  • Tactical health regeneration. Healing items are few and far between in Ys I, so it’s fortunate that you regenerate health by standing still… though only when you’re in a place where you can see the sky. Later in the game, you acquire a healing ring that allows you to regenerate in dungeons, too, but for the majority of the time, finding an open-air “clearing” in a dungeon makes a nice checkpoint.
  • Cute girls. My goodness. I want to cuddle Feena forever.
  • The sense of place and character. I mentioned this yesterday, but Ys I’s world feels remarkably coherent, even with its relatively tiny size compared to some other RPGs. By the end of the game, you recognise every character, and the character notebook feature in the game suggests that the writers thought long and hard about each and every NPC in the game, regardless of their importance (or lack thereof) to the plot.
  • The interesting structure. Ys I is broadly split into two parts: the first half sees you charging around the overworld completing various quests, and this will probably bring you up to the level cap of 10. Once you’ve done everything out in the world, you then enter the 25-floor final dungeon Darm Tower, where you’ll need to use everything you’ve learned (and a few other things besides) to make it to the top and kick the last boss’ face in.
  • The last boss is the hardest thing in the game. I’ve lost count of the number of RPGs I’ve played where the final boss is an underwhelming battle thanks to the ability to overlevel yourself for it by doing all manner of side activities beforehand. In narrative terms, the final boss should really be your most significant challenge, so it’s always a little disappointing when you can mash it in a couple of turns. Not so in Ys I; this asshole puts up a fight.

Things I liked a little less

  • The bosses are a bit primitive. This is perhaps understandable, given the game’s heritage — despite this being a modern remake, the original Ys I came out in 1987 and the bosses in particular make this abundantly clear, with very simple attack patterns that have no “intelligence” whatsoever — simply either randomised or predictable path-based movement.
  • The last boss is the hardest thing in the game… but for all the wrong reasons. The final boss is all kinds of bullshit. He bounces around the screen, frequently going out of reach. When you hit him, the floor falls away underneath where he was, and this can either kill you instantly or trap you in a corner if you’re not careful. He shoots fireballs that split into so many bullets it’s literally impossible to dodge them all. Fighting him is more a matter of being able to inflict enough damage on him before he kills you than any real skill at recognising and dealing with his patterns.
  • Inconsistent item behaviour is a little unfair. You can’t use items or change your equipment in boss battles. This means you can’t use that healing potion you’ve been saving, or the magic mirror to freeze your opponent in place. Worse, the various rings you acquire throughout the game — which vary in effect from doubling your damage dealt to halving your damage taken via allowing you to slowly regenerate when standing still — have no effect whatsoever in boss battles, either.
  • There are a number of instances where the game kind of forgets to tell you what to do next. This happens for the first time right at the very beginning of the game, where no-one tells you that in order to trigger an important event you first have to speak to each and every NPC in the starting town. There are a number of other such incidents later in the game, too, but again, this is perhaps a remnant of the game’s 1987 heritage, when games were a lot less hand-holdy.

Ultimately, none of the things I liked a bit less about Ys I distracted me from playing it through from start to finish and really enjoying the experience. I’m not sure whether I’ll go back and play it on the notorious Nightmare difficulty — I’m not sure I can face some of those bosses again! — but it’s a definite possibility. For the immediate “now”, though, I think I’m going to move straight on to Ys II to see how Adol’s adventure continues.

Yep. I’m 100% on board with this series, and I look forward to exploring the rest of it.