2266: Nights of Azure: A Peculiar Game Destined for Cult Status?

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Two of my favourite games of all time are Cavia’s Nier and Ganbarion’s Pandora’s Tower. They’re both gloriously unconventional takes on the role-playing game genre, mechanically and narratively, and they’re both extremely rewarding to engage with. They were also both the recipient of mediocre to middling reviews when they were first released, and have since — at least, in Nier’s case — broken free of that critical mire and attained cult status.

I’ve only played a couple of hours of it so far, but Gust’s Nights of Azure looks like joining these two overlooked classics in “flawed masterpiece” territory, as it has a lot in common with these two ambitious titles.

Nights of Azure casts you in the role of Arnice, a half-demon woman tasked with slaying Fiends and keeping a young woman called the Saint safe so that she can perform a ritual that will seal away the evil Nightlord and prevent the world from falling into perpetual darkness. There have been numerous Saints throughout the generations, but this time around the young maiden who has been chosen happens to be one Lilysse, a woman with whom it quickly becomes very apparent that Arnice has previously had an extremely close relationship with. Like, lovers close.

The two women are polar opposites in many ways. Lilysse is carefree and demure, while Arnice is confident and serious, though she has an easily rattled side to her. Their reunion after what has seemingly been quite some time apart begins with the two displaying that characteristic awkwardness around one another that two former lovers often show, but it’s obvious that there are still feelings there — particularly once Arnice starts finding crystallised memories around the city that forms the backdrop to the story, and when she starts exploring dream sequences that give you the option of either exploring the overall lore of the setting or the relationship between Arnice and Lilysse.

The gameplay of Nights of Azure isn’t your standard action RPG. There’s a bit of Castlevania in regard to the gothic opera aesthetic; there’s a bit of Shin Megami Tensei in the demon-summoning mechanics — the majority of your damage output in combat will come from your summoned demons; Arnice is mostly there to give orders and support; there’s a bit of 3D brawler action in terms of the basic controls; and there’s even a touch of the Souls series in there with regard to one of the game’s two main currencies being “blood” which can be used either to power up Arnice or purchase things.

Combat is fairly straightforward but satisfying. Arnice has a weak and a strong attack — initially with just a sword, but later with three other weapons — and a special attack that consumes her SP bar. She also has four decks of up to four Servans each to summon, and these also cost SP to summon. When a Servan is summoned, it performs a special ability, so it’s tactically advantageous to wait for a good moment to summon them rather than getting them out right away; once they’re out, they also have access to a Burst ability as well as their skills that they use automatically. This Burst ability is strong and tied to the Servan’s role in the party, be it tank, damage dealer or healer, and is limited by the Servan’s own SP bar.

The Servan stuff is interesting because it reminds me of the good bits of Japanese collectible card games on mobile: you collect units, you level them up and upgrade them, you customise them with attachments, and you take a suitable deck into battle with you to deal with any encounters you might face. Unlike Arnice, Servans level up just by engaging in combat — no Blood required — and gain access to more abilities as they reach higher levels. Arnice can find or purchase Fetishes throughout the game, too, and these can either be “actualised” into a new Servan, or given to an existing Servan to buff them up. Servans’ skills can also be customised by giving them various items.

The structure of Nights of Azure is pretty intriguing, too. All the main action goes on at night-time, and you’re limited to bursts of 15 minutes in the action stages before you have to go back to Arnice’s home base. In practice, this never really becomes an issue because you’ll reach a checkpoint or finish an area long before the timer expires in most cases. After coming back from the evening’s adventures, Arnice does some “daytime activities” that can result in the acquisition of skill points in four different fields, which can then be spent to acquire different abilities. She’s also able to take on quests aside from the main story, which are generally either “kill [x] of [y]” or “find [z]”, but reward her with useful items and currency. There’s also a battle arena where she can take on combat challenges with specific conditions to clear, with varying rewards on offer according to what her score is when she’s completed the challenge in question.

All in all, it feels like a very, very odd game so far — though this isn’t a bad thing at all. It feels inventive and interesting rather than being same old, same old, and I’m interested to see how it develops further. The core narrative of the relationship between the two leading ladies is intriguing and compelling, and the whole narrative is dripping with initially unexplained mysteries, supported by the overall aesthetic having a wonderful otherworldly feel to it — drenched in blue mist with character models that look like flowing pencil sketches, somewhat similar to the Atelier series.

And the music. Oh gosh. How wonderful is the music? Combining Michiru Yamane-style gothic rock tracks in the action stages with some distinctly Shoji Meguro-style jazz and funk back at the hotel and some beautiful solo piano pieces during the more heartfelt moments, the soundtrack is absolutely lovely.

It’s a pity the translation is so atrocious, riddled with typos and grammatical errors — and one of the PSN trophies even refers to the protagonist by the wrong name, presumably an erroneous transliteration from the original Japanese — but ultimately even these flaws don’t detract from an immediately intriguing, compelling and downright bizarre action RPG that deserves a great deal more love and attention than I can guarantee it’s (not) going to get from the gaming community at large.

2265: Final Fantasy XV’s Going to Be Something Special

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The other night, Square Enix held a livestreamed event showing off some information about their upcoming RPG Final Fantasy XV. It was, I think, the biggest deal I’ve ever seen any company make about one single game, and as a marketing exercise, it was enormously successful — despite the rather irritating hosts (I now have even less desire to check out Kinda Funny Games than I did before, which wasn’t much) the event did a good job of teasing the game as well as uncovering some genuine surprises.

This latter aspect is no mean feat in this day and age of leaks and rumours, and it was almost ruined earlier in the day when Gamespot “accidentally” (yeah, I’m sure you hated all the traffic you got) leaked the game’s September 30th release date. Fortunately, the other surprises — and there were several — were successfully kept under wraps, and Square Enix were even able to have a bit of fun with the knowledge that the release date was already out in the wild rather than doing the usual po-faced corporate thing.

So what’s so exciting about Final Fantasy XV then? Well, for me, the most interesting and exciting thing about it is the fact that Square Enix is clearly going all-out on this one. They are taking it very seriously and obviously throwing an enormous budget at both the game and its extended universe.

Yes, I said extended universe: that was one of the biggest surprises of the presentation for me. Because Final Fantasy XV won’t just be telling its story through the game, though this will naturally be the main focus. Alongside the game we’re also getting a prequel anime series, depicting how the main character Noctis and his friends became so close, and a feature-length CG movie called Kingsglaive, which shows a parallel story to the game focusing on Noctis’ father King Regis. Not only that, but we’re also getting a mobile game that actually looks like it might be quite fun, and is actually part of the main game’s world.

Final Fantasy XV does have a bit of an uphill struggle ahead of it, however, for numerous reasons. Although Final Fantasy XIV built a considerable amount of goodwill for the series — particularly among lifelong Final Fantasy fans — its audience was relatively limited compared to the rest of the series thanks to its status as a massively multiplayer online game, and a subscription-based one at that. Its single-player predecessors, the three games in the Final Fantasy XIII series, however, had a somewhat peculiar reception — Final Fantasy XIII was roundly praised on its original release, but since then it has seemingly become fashionable to bash it, with complaints ranging from the protagonist Lightning being boring (she isn’t), the game systems being too simple (they aren’t) and the tutorial being 20 hours long (kind of true, but it actually keeps the early hours of the game moving along at a good pace).

Not only that, but Final Fantasy XV is a radical reinvention of how we play Final Fantasy. Or, at least, that’s what people think. In truth, Final Fantasy hasn’t been what the people complaining about XV’s systems think it is for quite some time now, and XV is simply following a pattern of the game gradually experimenting, changing and innovating with each new iteration.

The reason why people feel that XV is such a sudden shift in direction — even though it really isn’t — is because their frame of reference is still, for whatever reason, limited to Final Fantasy games up to maybe X at the latest, and X is the point where the series started getting a lot more experimental than it had been.

That’s not to say, however, that the series had rested on its laurels; on the contrary, despite the early installments in particular seeming quite similar in terms of mechanics, each did something very different. Don’t believe me? Well, all right. I’ll prove it.

Final Fantasy: First in the series. Eschewed static character classes in favour of the ability to “promote” each of the classes to a more powerful, effective version partway through the game. Established the “Jobs” that have been used in many other Final Fantasy installments since.
Final Fantasy II: Eschewed a traditional progression system in favour of an Elder Scrolls-style “level it up by doing it” system. Get more HP by getting hit. Get more MP by casting magic. Get more strength by hitting things. Took some getting used to, but was an interesting twist on the standard RPG formula, and is all the more remarkable considering it came out in 1988.
Final Fantasy III: Returned to a traditional levelling system but combined this with the ability to switch character Jobs without having to completely respec or reset levels. You could change your party makeup on the fly without having to change characters, in other words.
Final Fantasy IV: First 16-bit installment in the series. First use of the Active Time Battle system, which combined the strategy of turn-based combat with a real-time element. Stronger emphasis on story and characterisation through static, non-customisable characters.
Final Fantasy V: Revamped Final Fantasy III’s Job system and made it even more flexible with the ability to equip abilities you had learned from other Jobs, allowing you to effectively create hybrid characters. Used Active Time Battle.
Final Fantasy VI: One of the most impressive games on the Super NES, both technically and in terms of storytelling. First use of the “learning abilities from equipping things” system used in several other installments — here, abilities were learned by equipping Espers, the summonable creatures. Used Active Time Battle.
Final Fantasy VII: First 32-bit installment in the series, first CD-based installment in the series and first 3D polygonal installment in the series. A spectacular achievement of the time, both technically and in terms of storytelling. Introduced Materia, which have made an appearance in a couple of other Final Fantasy games. Used Active Time Battle, brought to life in animated 3D rather than relatively static 2D for the first time.
Final Fantasy VIII: First installment to have realistically proportioned characters. Outlandish character development system in which character level was less important than the Guardian Force (summon) you had equipped on the character, and what magic spells you had Junctioned to stats. An unpopular installment due to its initially baffling and easily gamed mechanics, but a solid story and visually very impressive for the time. Used Active Time Battle.
Final Fantasy IX: A supposed “return to the roots” of the series, featuring less realistically proportioned characters but maintaining the polygonal characters on pre-rendered backdrops aesthetic of VII and VIII. Brought back the “learn things by equipping stuff” system, this time with abilities attached to equipment. Used Active Time Battle.
Final Fantasy X: First entry on the PlayStation 2, and first entry to have full 3D polygonal environments both on the field and in battle. Also first entry to have voice-overs, which also meant the end of being able to rename your characters — except for the protagonist, whom no-one ever said the name of throughout. Did not use Active Time Battle, instead using a turn-based system with a manipulable turn order called Conditional Turn-Based Battle. Also eschewed traditional levelling in favour of the “Sphere Grid” system, which allowed either a little or a lot of control over character development depending on if you chose the original or “advanced” version at the outset of the game.
Final Fantasy X-2: First direct sequel in the series. Returned to Active Time Battle, but revamped it with variable length turn bars. Also brought back the Job system, but revamped it with the ability to change Job in mid-battle. First non-linear entry in the series, with the whole world map open from the outset and the freedom to tackle challenges in whatever order you want, level and gear permitting. Also featured multiple endings according to how much optional content you saw.
Final Fantasy XI: First massively multiplayer installment in the series. First entry since the original Final Fantasy to feature a player-created character. First entry to use a freely rotatable over-the-shoulder camera rather than fixed camera angles. First entry to feature pretty-much-kinda-sort-of-real-time combat.
Final Fantasy XII: First single-player installment to feature MMO-style pretty-much-kinda-sort-of-real-time combat. First truly open-world single-player Final Fantasy in which it was possible to run from one end of the world to the other without having to go to a separate “World Map” screen. First (and only) use of the License and Gambit systems, allowing for a considerable amount of character customisation and tweaking of party members’ AI respectively.
Final Fantasy XIII: First PlayStation 3 entry in the series. First use of Paradigm system, allowing for switching of roles in mid-battle — though these weren’t the old Jobs from past installments. Changed focus in battle from micromanaging turn-based combat to switching your party lineup (and, consequently, abilities) to respond to situations. Had a lot more tactical depth than people in the last few years gave it credit for.
Final Fantasy XIII-2: Built on XIII’s base systems and mixed things up a bit with two fixed party members and a third slot taken by recruitable, trainable, nameable monsters. Featured an absolutely baffling non-linear time-travelling storyline, showing everyone that XIII’s linearity perhaps wasn’t such a bad thing after all. First Final Fantasy to have DLC. (Oh, yay.)
Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII: First second sequel in the series. First game to focus exclusively on one character (with the arguable exception of Final Fantasy XI, though you try doing anything solo in that game). Featured a Job-like system where you could change outfit in mid-combat for access to different abilities, and each outfit had its own independent Active Time Battle-esque bar. Allowed free movement and dodging in combat. Featured a non-linear, time-limited structure designed to be replayed.
Final Fantasy XIV: Second attempt at a massively multiplayer installment in the series. Massively ambitious — too much so. Gave players a great deal of freedom but not enough direction. Had a seamless open world. Technically impressive — if you could run it — but a disastrous failure.
Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn: The most impressive “phoenix from the ashes” I’ve ever seen. A Realm Reborn ditched its predecessor’s more unconventional aspects and adopted a more traditional MMO structure with a heavy focus on matchmaking cooperative content and a Job system in which you could individually level Jobs as if they were completely different characters. The most story-heavy MMO I’ve played for some time, and a true love letter to fans of the series, with guest appearances from characters including Gilgamesh, Ultros, Shantotto, Lightning and numerous others. Expanded by Heavensward.

So as you can hopefully see from that breakdown, Final Fantasy has consistently reinvented and updated itself with each installment. While the entries between IV and IX all used the Active Time Battle system for their battles, their core progression mechanics were very different to one another. And from X onwards, the series became considerably more experimental with both battle and progression mechanics; its only look back to the “line up in a row and take it in turns to hit things” approach was X-2, and even that did plenty of interesting things with the basic format.

Now we’ve established that Final Fantasy has been pretty consistently inventive throughout its considerable lifespan, XV’s approach doesn’t seem quite so scary a change. And it seems even less scary when you actually play either the Episode Duscae demo that came out around the time of Final Fantasy Type-0 HD — we didn’t even get into spinoffs in the list above, otherwise we’d be here all night — or the recently released Platinum Demo, which primarily acts as a showcase for the game’s engine and basic mechanics.

My friend Chris described Final Fantasy XV’s approach to combat as taking the philosophy behind turn-based combat and applying it to a real-time depiction. This is why you don’t button-mash — you hold a button down to attack. You have time to consider what you’re doing rather than hack-and-slash. You have limited resources to use for casting spells or defending. The strategy is there, it’s just in a slightly different form to what we might be used to.

And, having spent some time with both Episode Duscae and Platinum Demo, I’m convinced. The fluidity of the combat animations and how seamlessly you can switch from one weapon to another mid-combo is sure to make for some interesting battles, and once party members and more spectacular abilities start coming into play I don’t doubt we’ll be seeing some truly exciting setpieces, of which the battle with Behemoth in Episode Duscae is just a tame example.

Final Fantasy may not be what it used to be, then, but it’s never really been “what it used to be”, because it’s reinvented itself with each and every installment. Embrace and enjoy the change — XV genuinely does look like it’s going to be a real work of art when it’s finally with us at the end of September, and I for one can’t wait to get my hands on it.

Or, if you really can’t deal with Final Fantasy doing new things… well, there’s always Bravely Default, which absolutely is doing what Final Fantasy used to do, and I say that with great fondness.

2259: Back to Solo Play

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I’ve been back and forth on whether or not I should continue playing Final Fantasy XIV for a while now. I do love the game and all it offers, but the long period of time between the release of expansion pack Heavensward and its first major content patch caused me to get significant burnout, and while I did get temporarily enthused around the start of the patch 3.2 cycle, I’m once again feeling that I don’t really want to do the endgame grind, nor do I want to raid.

Those who have been following my blog for a while will know that I’ve been one of the loudest, most enthusiastic people about Final Fantasy XIV ever since the beta of A Realm Reborn. So why the change of heart? Well, a number of reasons, really.

First up is the aforementioned endgame grind. This has always been present in the game — it is an MMO, after all — but first time around it somehow didn’t feel so bad, perhaps because I never got “ahead of the curve” and made content irrelevant by outgearing it within a day or two of it releasing. In other words, taking on challenges was always exciting and there was always something to aim for; that aspect is still there, but if anything, I think there’s now too much to grind on for what feels like relatively little reward.

Take the Anima weapons, for example — Heavensward’s version of the Relic weapons from A Realm Reborn. The first step of this process either requires you to give up a fully upgraded level 50 relic (which a lot of people had at least one of by this point) or to repeatedly run FATEs around the Heavensward areas until you got Atma-like drops at a very low chance. The second step requires you to run ten dungeons that, at the level you’re constructing the Anima weapon at, are completely irrelevant to you unless you’re collecting gear for alt classes. The final step requires you to collect 20 each of four different items and then do some other bits and pieces.

The first step either takes seconds or hours of boring FATE grinding, though you can at least attempt to get the items from FATEs while levelling another class. The second step is just plain tedious, though it is presumably there as an attempt to keep older dungeons populated for those who are coming up through the 50s. And the third and final step is an absolutely brutal grind that either takes weeks of daily quests or repeated running of dungeons and/or the first (now largely irrelevant) part of the Alexander raid dungeon. Oddly, the jump in item level and power for this final step is significantly smaller than that for the second step, despite the final step being by far the most significant undertaking.

I currently have 8 out of the 60 items required to upgrade my Relic to its (currently) final form, and the next step of the process is coming soon. I just don’t feel any inclination to do this alongside grinding daily quest reputation, Tomestones to purchase gear, XP for classes that haven’t reached 60 yet, not to mention crafting and gathering, both of which are one of the few reliable ways to make a decent amount of money in the game.

The trouble, then, is not that there’s nothing to do as such — it’s that there’s too much to do, but that too much is based on doing the same things over and over again for weeks or even months. The worst of both worlds, if you will — for me, anyway. There are plenty of people still playing who seem to be quite happy indulging in this grind. Some are even already working on their second or third Anima weapons.

I don’t begrudge anyone how they spend their time, but having been playing a bunch of other stuff recently, I just don’t want to commit the amount of time necessary to progress at a meaningful pace in Heavensward, because it means that I won’t have time to enjoy other games like Senran Kagura Estival Versus, Dungeon Travelers 2, the upcoming Trillion God of Destruction and the many, many RPGs that are still on my game shelves, as yet unplayed. I’ve tried finding that magic balance between FFXIV and other games, and it just doesn’t really exist for me — I always end up going in an “all or nothing” direction, and right now I’m feeling like I would rather play other things.

I’m not hanging up my Eorzean adventuring shoes completely; I fully intend to continue dropping in on the game to see how the plot develops with each new content patch, but I no longer have any desire to stay “current” with content progression, raids or Extreme-level Primal fights. In a way, I’m a bit sad that I feel this way, as FFXIV has been such a significant part of my life for so long — and my wife now plays more than I do — but ultimately, if you’re not happy or having fun doing something that is supposed to be enjoyable, then there’s really no point carrying on with it.

Alongside all this is the social matter: our Free Company has become very quiet over the last few months. I’m not entirely sure what’s caused this and I don’t really want to investigate for fear of dredging up any drama that might be involved. But playing the game isn’t the same social activity it once was, with Free Company chat a lively place filled with people having fun, joking around and enjoying themselves. Many of the regular faces are still there, but remain quiet in “public”, instead preferring to converse in small, private Linkshells rather than the main guild channel. It’s made for an atmosphere that isn’t anywhere near as welcoming and fun as it once was.

And alongside this is the matter of the overall game community and how it has declined somewhat over the last few months. MMOs always have a problem with elitism at their top end, but Final Fantasy XIV always used to feel like it was one of the more positive, friendly communities out there. Now, though, it’s a place where you get yelled at if you don’t speedrun dungeons, where newcomers to fights are sometimes kicked out of groups, and where players bitch about people they perceive to be “inferior” to them both in-game and on social media. The rise in popularity of DPS parsers also means that the particularly elitist players have data to hold over the heads of people they think are underperforming, and rather than offering feedback on how to improve, many of these people think that simply quoting them their DPS figure is enough to make them want to “git gud”.

This is a generalisation, of course; I’ve still had plenty of positive experiences in the game in recent months, and I always made a point to be the change I wanted to see in the community by being friendly and conversational when playing with others, offering advice without berating when necessary. But it’s just got to a point where this side of things has become exhausting and even stressful at times, and that’s not conducive to having fun.

So I’m stepping away. For how long, I don’t know, though as I say, I’m pretty sure I’ll be back in for the next patch, at least to see how the main scenario storyline develops. Raiding, though? Nope. Sephirot EX? No thank you. Anima grind? No, thank you.

Now, I’m 86 hours deep in Dungeon Travelers 2 and I have grinding to do… he said, without a trace of irony.

2258: TrackMania Turbo: Impressions from the Full Version

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I knew after just a couple of minutes of playing TrackMania Turbo’s demo that I needed the full game in my life, so it wasn’t long before I was in my local game emporium picking up a physical copy. (Discs rule. Yes they do.) And I’ve been spending some time with the full version. Here are some things you might like to know about it.

It’s an arcade racer with gloriously old-school handling

That means tapping the brakes to suddenly find yourself going sideways, powersliding around corners, releasing the accelerator to slow down only when you absolutely have to, and all that good stuff. It’s not realistic in the slightest, but TrackMania has always been about having fun that just happens to be in cars; it’s never been trying to be realistic, and it’s always been all the better for it.

There are four distinct environments, each with a very different feel

Earlier TrackMania titles incorporated multiple environments, each of which had its own unique vehicle with its own unique handling. TrackMania 2 bucked this trend by releasing each environment as a separate game — Canyon, Valley and Stadium. It was a controversial move that some saw as new publisher Ubisoft trying to make a bit more money off the game and perhaps it was — but each of these environments was very well fleshed out with plenty of variety. Plus each individual game was a fraction of the price of a brand-new triple-A game.

TrackMania Turbo incorporates revamped versions of the Canyon, Valley and Stadium environments from TrackMania 2 and adds its own Lagoon environment to the mix. Lagoon is somewhat similar to the Island environment from TrackMania United, but with a few additions — most notably magnetic rollercoaster tracks that your car sticks to, allowing for corkscrewing, loop-the-looping and all manner of other acrobatics with zero risk of your car flying off into the sunset or plummeting from a great height into shark-infested waters.

Pleasingly, each environment feels very different. The Canyon cars are extremely drifty — we’re talking Ridge Racer territory here. The Valley cars, meanwhile, are a little more twitchy, plus the wider variety of road (and off-road) surfaces means that you have to adapt to several different ways of throwing your car around. The Lagoon cars are the most sensitive and grippy of all, able to get around very tight corners without having to drift (or even slow down, in some cases), and the Stadium cars are much like their counterparts from the previous games: heavy but grippy, with the ability to throw them into a drift with judicious application of the brakes.

There’s a 200-level campaign

Yep, 200 races for you to complete. You can’t just challenge them in any order, though; you have to start with the “White”-level Canyon tracks, then attain enough medals to unlock the “White” Valley tracks, then the “White” Lagoon tracks and finally the “White” Stadium tracks — only then will you be able to move up to the next tier. The top two tiers of difficulty require silver and gold medals respectively, while the first three only require bronze medals.

This structure is a bit more restrictive than past TrackMania games in that you can’t jump back and forth between each environment’s mini-campaign if you get fed up with a particular track, but ultimately it gives the game a good sense of progression.

There’s a bunch of ways to play multiplayer

TrackMania has always been an incredibly overlooked local multiplayer party game, and hopefully its jump to consoles will help fix that. Turbo incorporates a number of different ways to play together.

Split-Screen is self-explanatory: everyone races together, first over the line wins, and the overall winner is determined by a best of three. This is noteworthy for being one of the only four-player split-screen games I’ve seen on the last two generations of consoles.

Arcade mode is a flexible mode where you can pick a track and then attempt to set a time using three “credits”. The top ten times are recorded on a high score table, so you can challenge your friends to beat your best times that you’ve previously set — or have a mini-tournament there and then.

Hotseat mode is most similar to the previous games’ multiplayer option. Up to 16 players can play in turn, each of whom is given a full tank of gas. Each player then attempts to set a time on the course; if the current leader is beaten, they then have to try and beat their challenger. The process repeats until everyone has run out of gas, and whoever is top of the leaderboard at that point is the winner.

All these local multiplayer modes can be played using any of the 200 campaign tracks (all of which are unlocked from the outset — no need to play single-player to open them up for multiplayer), any tracks you’ve built using the game’s track editor, or a randomly generated track that the game builds for you. This latter option is fun, but a little time-consuming: you can watch the game building the track piece-by-piece, then it has to spend a few moments calculating shadows for the objects it’s added. (Pro-Tip: choose “Fast” rather than “Nice” for lighting quality unless you want to wait a good 3 or 4 minutes before you can play the track.)

It’s built for console

TrackMania has always felt like a PC game. And I don’t necessarily mean that as a positive thing. Past installments have been highly customisable and expandable, but this came at a price: a clunky, inconsistent interface and an online component that required you know about (and are able to set up) dedicated servers and suchlike. The game was considerably expanded by a worldwide community of modders, in other words.

TrackMania Turbo doesn’t support mods, nor does it do dedicated servers — at least not in the same way as the earlier PC games. This, naturally, has made the PC crowd get furious as they are wont to do, but really for the average player it’s a change for the better. Multiplayer is now a case of just creating a room or joining an existing one. The interface is consistent and controller-friendly. You don’t need to worry about having the right mods installed just to make other people’s cars show up, or spend time tweaking settings to optimise performance. It is an overused phrase, but TrackMania Turbo just works, and thank God for that.

It’s the best arcade racer for years

While many of the more “arcadey” racing games have gone in the open-world direction over the last few years, making for sprawling, unfocused experiences where you dribble from one type of activity to another, TrackMania remains so true to its arcade inspirations that on its title screen it prompts you to “insert coin or press X”, followed by the sound of a coin clunking into an arcade machine when the main menu appears.

It’s presented well, with a clear, uncluttered interface, wonderful handling and a pick-up-and-play nature that is accessible (but challenging) to all ages, and with the combination of the track editor, the ability to download other players’ tracks and the random track generator, has potentially limitless replayability.

So if you like arcade racing — or the technical, puzzle-like stunt racing of titles like Ubisoft stablemate Trials — then you absolutely, definitely should pick up a copy of TrackMania Turbo as soon as possible.

2256: TrackMania Turbo Demo Impressions

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Those who know me well will know that I’ve been a huge fan of the TrackMania series since the original release of TrackMania United, and have spent many hours on the various updates to United and the eventual follow-ups TrackMania 2 Canyon, Valley and Stadium. So it was with some excitement that I realised that the next official sequel, TrackMania Turbo, was releasing this week, though I was torn on whether to pick it up for console (PS4, in my case) or PC, which has traditionally been the home of TrackMania.

After playing the PS4 demo for a bit this evening, I think I’m going to grab the PS4 version. I’m very impressed with how at home it feels on console — much of the clunkiness of the PC versions, particularly in the menus, has been tidied up considerably, making it much more controller-friendly, and the addition of a variety of local multiplayer modes makes it eminently suitable for console play. It, so far, seems to be a highly polished product, which addresses what has always been my main criticism of the series as a whole: the fact that in terms of gameplay, it is wonderful, but in terms of interface and user-friendliness, it has traditionally been a ridiculous mess, only made worse by the gazillions of mods server operators apply to their custom dedicated servers, making the game screen more complicated than your average MMO come raid time.

PC players on Steam seem to be a bit salty that TrackMania Turbo has stripped out a number of features they’ve come to take for granted: specifically, the ability for players to run their own dedicated servers and install gajillions of mods that make players’ screens look more complicated than your average MMO come raid time. And while this is a bit of a shame from the perspective of the game’s flexibility — something that TrackMania has always prided itself on — I don’t think it’s going to hurt the complete package, and in fact it may well be good for the series as a whole. TrackMania Turbo will serve as the friendly face of TrackMania, in other words, while the truly hardcore still have United and TrackMania 2 to play and mod to their heart’s content. Both of those games are still a hell of a lot of fun to play, after all — and surprisingly good looking, to boot, especially considering their age.

But what of TrackMania Turbo then? How does it shape up compared to its illustrious, if clunky, predecessors? Judging from the five tracks available in the demo, extremely favourably. In fact, if the whole game handles in the way those early tracks do, I’m confident that it will become a new favourite arcade racer.

The thing I like the most is the unabashedly arcadey handling. We’re talking Ridge Racer-tier drifting here: release the accelerator, steer around a corner and slam the gas back on and you’re going sideways. Hit the brakes and you’ll find yourself in an even tighter drift, allowing you to get around even the most ridiculous of corners without losing anywhere near as much speed as if you’d have to drive “properly” like in boring driving sims.

The game screen, sans custom mod clutter, is clean, clear and offers ample feedback on your performance as you play, including split times, worldwide and regional rankings, and fun little extras like arcade-style counters showing how far you’ve jumped or drifted for — a nice addition that gives the game a very “Sega” feel.

I was debating whether or not I wanted to grab the game today. Playing those five tracks in the demo has made me quite happy to pick it up, though; I can see it being a whole lot of fun, and I hope it’s a big success, helping to show console players the joy of this wonderfully silly but skillful and creative series.

2252: Estival Versus: Early Impressions

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As I said the other day after finishing Senran Kagura 2: Deep Crimson, the follow-up to the Vita spinoff Shinovi Versus, Estival Versus, was waiting for me to stick it in my PS4 and start rumbling in the sunshine. So that’s what I’ve been doing.

A recap for those who aren’t familiar with the complete Senran Kagura series and its continuity: first came 3DS game Senran Kagura Burst (actually a remake of the Japan-only Senran Kagura: Portrait of Girls with an additional full-length story from the perspective of the “evil” shinobi), which introduced the ten girls who make up the cast members from “good” shinobi school Hanzou and “evil” shinobi school Hebijo (as well as recurring guest characters Daidouji and Rin) and took the form of a 2.5D brawler with simple RPG-style character progression.

Then came Vita game Senran Kagura Shinovi Versus, which followed on directly from Burst’s story and introduced ten new characters: five from another “good” shinobi school Gessen and five who took the place of the now-renegade Homura’s Crimson Squad at Hebijo. The story focused on characterisation of the four groups and their interactions with one another, but in its final moments teased what would become the main conflict of the Senran Kagura series: the clash between shinobi (both good and evil) and the demonic youma. Gameplay made the jump from fixed-perspective 2.5D to third-person 3D, leading many to (somewhat erroneously) draw comparisons to Koei Tecmo’s Warriors series.

This was followed by 3DS game Senran Kagura 2: Deep Crimson, which left behind the new Gessen and Hebijo characters in favour of focusing on the original cast once again, and pushing the shinobi-youma plot arc forward with the introduction of legendary character Kagura and a strong focus on the machinations of the evil Hebijo chairman Dougen. Deep Crimson returned to fixed camera angles but had a stronger sense of depth than Burst, making it feel more along the lines of a somewhat less setpiece-heavy Devil May Cry than Streets of Rage.

And then we come to Estival Versus, the latest release. (There was also Senran Kagura Bon Appetit among all that lot somewhere, but that’s a deliberately comedic spinoff rather than a canonical entry in the main narrative.) Estival Versus is the first of the series to appear on home consoles as well as handhelds thanks to its simultaneous PlayStation 4 and Vita releases, and it marks a return to Shinovi Versus’ 3D fighting formula, with battles unfolding in large 3D arenas rather than side-on, linear levels.

My initial impressions here are based exclusively on the PlayStation 4 version, I should probably point out; from what I understand, the Vita version is pretty solid, mind, it just runs at a lower framerate and resolution — and, obviously, is on a smaller screen (unless you use a PlayStation TV). As such, take comments about the technical performance of the game accordingly.

Well, then, that would seem like a decent place to start: for the most part, Estival Versus runs beautifully fluidly, with crisp, high-definition graphics, the beautiful character animation that has come to exemplify the series, and a smooth framerate that usually sticks around the 60 mark with a few exceptions when things get particularly busy. Even when the framerate drops, however, the action continues to feel fast and fluid, giving the game a pleasantly “arcadey” feel.

The jump to the big screen makes a surprising amount of difference. Combat feels rather more weighty than it did in Shinovi Versus, particularly when you use the characters that wield heavy, slow weapons rather than the more hack-and-slash-friendly characters. This is a good thing, on the whole; every character feels noticeably distinct from one another, and getting to learn some of the more challenging characters is satisfying.

Besides the returning cast from Shinovi Versus, there are a number of new characters, too: the three “Mikaruga Sisters”, each of whom handles very differently, along with some other characters who are particularly important to a number of aspects of Senran Kagura lore at large.

I can’t speak for the entire story yet, but Estival Versus so far seems to be following a similar pattern to Shinovi Versus: beginning with what sounds like it should be a throwaway plot that simply provides an excuse for all the characters to fight one another, but which actually turns out to be a means of exploring these characters in a considerable amount of depth. Here, the basic concept is that the casts from the four schools have been somehow whisked away to a tropical paradise where dead shinobi who have not yet found rest appear to linger. Shortly after arriving, the girls are challenged to take part in the “Shinobi bon dance” ritual — a battle royale that demands each of the groups smash the others’ festival platforms in an attempt to assert their dominance and, subsequently, be allowed home first.

It sounds kind of dumb initially, and indeed the first couple of chapters of the game largely consist of the girls messing around and being silly with one another. By the third “day” of the festival, however, things start picking up, and some of the central mysteries surrounding the situation the girls find themselves in start to unfold. I anticipate that by the eighth day, there will have been some very significant happenings in the world of Senran Kagura, though I shall refrain from conjecture here for fear of inadvertent spoilers.

Estival Versus so far appears to be a very fun game indeed, with a solid single-player mode, some interesting-sounding online multiplayer modes (both cooperative and adversarial) and the now-obligatory Dressing Room feature, which allows you to play dress-up with your favourite girls, pose up to five of them in a diorama and then snap pictures of them from various angles. I’m not sure I’d recommend it to someone as their first Senran Kagura game, since, like Deep Crimson, it’s the midpoint of a series — a series that currently has no end in sight, I should add — and, unlike many other franchises out there, it begins by immediately working on the assumption that you already know who these characters are, how they relate to one another and what they went through together in the previous games. Like Deep Crimson, there are some efforts made to give a bit of context in the early hours of the narrative, but you’ll get far more out of it if you’ve played through the stories of Burst, Shinovi Versus and Deep Crimson beforehand to understand where things are in these girls’ world right now.

Very much looking forward to seeing how things develop — and perhaps jumping into the multiplayer a bit, too. If you have a copy and are playing online, feel free to add my PSN ID Angry_Jedi to your friends list; do please leave a note with your friend request if you know me from here or Twitter, however!

2236: Games You Probably Haven’t Tried But Should: Croixleur Sigma

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I’m a big fan of the Japanese doujin (indie) scene’s work and have been ever since I first came across the rather wonderful Recettear by EasyGameStation and its equally wonderful localisation by Carpe Fulgur. Much like the Western indie scene, the Japanese doujin scene is the home of the type of games that men in suits decide “won’t provide a good ROI or conversion ratio” or whatever shit they talk about in boardrooms these days.

Unlike the Western indie scene, however, which has a strong tendency to err on the side of “art games” — works that make use of gaming conventions in the service of telling a story or delivering some sort of message to the audience — the Japanese doujin scene has a strong tendency to make very “pure” gaming experiences that, while they sometimes have strong narratives, are primarily concerned with being fun to play and feeling like classic console and arcade titles from the PS1 and Dreamcast eras.

Croixleur Sigma by Souvenir Circ is one such example. I’ve had the pleasure of following Croixleur’s development since it was first released as a rather simplistic, albeit enjoyable, arena-based brawler a good few years ago now, and over time it’s blossomed into a genuinely excellent arcade-style game with a surprising amount of depth. With its recent PlayStation 4 release by publisher Playism, we finally have what is probably the definitive version of Croixleur, and it’s well worth your time and £11.

As previously mentioned, Croixleur is an arena-based brawler specifically designed to channel Devil May Cry’s Bloody Palace mode, in which the protagonist fights their way through increasingly challenging waves of enemies with a mind to completing the challenge 1) as quickly as possible 2) without dying and 3) scoring as many points as possible. In Croixleur’s case, you take on the role of one of four charming young weapon-wielding ladies and hack and slash your way through various types of monsters, hopefully before the 15-minute timer or your two arcade-style continues run out.

Croixleur initially seems disappointingly simple. Tapping the attack button unleashes a basic combo, but this isn’t altered by moving directions or changing weapons or anything. You can jump and do the same combo, or you can dash.

You can probably make it through the game just mashing the attack button, but it would be very tedious. Thankfully, that isn’t all there is to Croixleur, not by a long shot. No, Croixleur is very much based around being as fluid and elegant as possible; every action is possible to “cancel” into another — in other words, while one animation is going off, you can hit the button combination to do something else and that thing happen a lot sooner than it would have if you’d let the animation finish and set it off from a standing start. Effective fighting in Croixleur, then, becomes a combination of hitting weak enemies with your basic attack, dashing to other enemies to get into position, and using the unique special attacks each of the collectible weapons offer in order to best deal with the situations in which you find yourself. There’s also a “smart bomb”-like ability that has a limited number of uses; this is particularly useful against the stronger, larger enemies that less frequently show up.

There are only three basic enemy types in Croixleur: a goblin thing, a goblin wizard thing and a flying eyeball bat thing. While you might think this would cause the game to lack variety, things are mixed up a bit by a couple of palette variations of each: brown ones are weakest, blue ones take more hits and are more aggressive, red ones are strongest and most dangerous. The advantage of there only being three basic types of enemy is that you can learn their attack patterns and “tells” in their animations and be able to deftly avoid their attacks in order to keep up your own assault; in order to get the best scores — and indeed to survive, full stop — you’ll need to avoid taking damage as much as possible.

Alongside the basic three enemies are a few larger types, too: there’s a big monster thing, a gold knight, a silver knight and a fuck-off massive dragon as the final boss. Having significantly more HP — and usually being accompanied by a horde of the basic enemies — means that you have to deal with these powerful foes is somewhat different ways, zipping in and chipping away at their health before they can wind up a powerful attack, or using a special move to pelt them with magic from afar.

Further variation to the game is added through the weapons that you collect as you progress. You can equip up to four of these when you start a new game, effectively allowing you to customise your heroine’s choice of special moves according to how you like to play. There are also a variety of entertaining visual accessories you can purchase with the coins you collect by defeating enemies, and these all have various benefits to gameplay. Plus they look fun.

Croixleur is not a complicated or long game, but it’s surprising how much depth it has. It’s very much an arcade game, and wouldn’t feel out of place on the Dreamcast, with its large, Sega-style countdown timer, ludicrous scores to attain and wonderfully fluid, 60fps action. Plus there’s a ton of unlockable stuff to uncover as well as the ever-present challenge of besting your own high scores — and those of your friends, too, of course.

Give it a try!

2235: Give Flame Over a Go with This Month’s PlayStation Plus Games

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Idiots, as we all know, love complaining. And some of the loudest, most complain-happy idiots are those who whinge about the monthly games on offer via Sony’s subscription service PlayStation Plus.

For those unfamiliar, PlayStation Plus is a service you pay a monthly fee to for, among other things, the privilege of playing multiplayer games on the PlayStation 4 platform. Unless you’re a die-hard multiplayer gamer, though, the far more attractive things that PlayStation Plus gets you is discounted prices on PlayStation Store digital downloads, and “free” games every month — I put “free” in inverted commas since you only get to keep them for as long as you keep paying the subscription; they deactivate if you stop paying, though you can get them back again by resubscribing.

In recent months, the aforementioned complain-happy idiots have been very keen to point out that the monthly games on offer have tended to err on the side of smaller-scale, independently developed titles rather than triple-A games, the latter of which were originally positioned as a selling point for the service. However, I actually prefer things this way around, since it gives me the opportunity to give games a go that I’ve perhaps liked the look of, but not enough to want to drop £10-£15 on them at the time.

Enter Flame Over from Laughing Jackal, a firefighting roguelike that I’ve had my eye on for a while, but somehow never got around to picking up. This month, it’s one of the PlayStation Plus games, so now I don’t need to agonise over whether or not it will be a worthwhile purchase for me: I just have a copy for as long as I’m a PlayStation Plus member, and since it’s a digital download-only game, it’s not a game I feel obliged to pick up a physical copy of — I do love my physical copies, as regular readers will know — because a physical copy doesn’t exist.

As it turns out, Flame Over is a very good game indeed and I should have picked it up sooner, but oh well; I have it now.

Flame Over casts you in the role of a firefighter with no visible eyes, a big helmet and an impressive moustache. It’s your job to enter a 16-floor building with your trusty hose and extinguisher, put out all the fires and rescue as many people and cats as possible before… well, dying. It is a roguelike of sorts, after all, so yes, despite the cartoonish, slapstick visual humour, the overall tone is oddly bleak, if truthful: fire doesn’t care who you are, and it will kill you if you don’t respect it.

Gameplay is simple and reminiscent of a classic computer or console game from the 8-bit era. You have a ticking clock, you have a maze-like level to negotiate — randomly generated, hence the “roguelike” descriptor — and you have high scores to beat, here represented as money that you can subsequently spend on powerups and permanent improvements to make your future runs a bit easier.

Putting out fires is a simple case of squirting them with your hose or extinguisher. The hose has a longer range and makes things wet so fire is less likely to spread, while the extinguisher covers a wider area and is the only way to put out electrical fires, which are prone to flaring up again after you’ve put them out once. You can also completely negate electrical fires by finding the fusebox on each floor, but this will inevitably be beyond a room that has come to resemble one of the lower circles of Hell, so you’ll need to clear a pathway through first.

The interesting thing about Flame Over is that it makes things deliberately just a little bit awkward for the player to keep things interesting. The camera angle isn’t quite top-down, which means that things on the “bottom” wall on-screen can often be hidden, necessitating rotation of the camera in order to make sure you haven’t missed anything. This is an additional thing to think about in the heat (no pun intended) of the moment, and with flames flaring up all around you, it contributes considerably to the rather wonderful growing sense of panic that the game creates.

That timer is a distinctly old-school touch, too; you can extend it by rescuing people, and when it runs out it’s not immediately the end of the game: rather, in a manner somewhat similar to seriously old-school games like Spelunker and Bubble Bobble, running out of time triggers the appearance of a difficult to avoid (but absolutely avoidable) enemy who will immediately end your game if you come into contact with him. In this case, said unavoidable enemy is Death himself, further driving home the game’s point about mortality.

Oh my goodness me is it an addictive little bugger, though. It’s simple to play, repetitive, sometimes awkward and regularly frustrating — but it’s fun. It’s a “pure” game, designed not to tell a meaningful story or make bold, sweeping sociopolitical statements; it’s a game designed to test your skills and patience, and as someone who grew up with games when they were nothing but tests of your skills and patience, Flame Over feels like a rather wonderful callback to those good old days; a game that, were it not for its 60fps 1080p polygonal graphics, would probably have been eminently at home on the Atari 8-bit computers or Commodore 64. And that is absolutely a compliment.

So anyway. Next time you’re disappointed that PlayStation Plus isn’t giving you a free copy of Call of Duty or some other such shit, take a moment to check out the things you might not have heard of: you might just find yourself pleasantly surprised by the charming games on offer, and discover some new favourites in the process.

2233: MegaNep’s True Ending: A Love Letter to the Dreamcast, and to the Player

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I cleared Megadimension Neptunia VII’s True Ending path this evening, after a horrible moment where I thought I hadn’t triggered it and would have to do the whole thing through again (which is actually not quite as monumental an undertaking as you might think) — and I was very impressed with one of the most satisfying finales I’ve seen in a story-based game for quite some time.

Mild spoilers ahead.

At the core of MegaNep’s overarching narrative is the story of Uzume Tennouboshi, a new character to the series who, like the series regulars, embodies a games console — in this case, Sega’s ahead-of-its-time Dreamcast. For those unfamiliar with their gaming hardware history, the Dreamcast was a 128-bit console that came out towards the tail end of the console generation that was primarily 32- and 64-bit: that of the original PlayStation and the Nintendo 64. It was astronomically powerful in comparison to its contemporaries and was home to some wonderful games, many of which are still fondly remembered today. But for one reason or another, it was regarded as a commercial failure, and both it and its games dropped out of mainstream distribution after just a couple of years, with the 128-bit era only starting in earnest once the PlayStation 2 shattered all expectations of what console gaming was all about following its launch in 2000.

Uzume’s identity and background is initially a mystery to Neptune and company, but over the source of MegaNep’s complete story, her past comes to light. Having once been a goddess to what is now Neptune’s domain of Planeptune, she was voluntarily sealed away due to the fact that she was unable to control her “illusion” power and largely forgotten about; an allegory for the Dreamcast being released onto the market too early and developers and publishers alike arguably not being sure how to make best use of this new power on offer.

The main villain of the piece is revealed very late in the story to be the darker side of Uzume, representing her irrational hatred and bitterness at feeling abandoned by her people. Through a complicated series of happenings too twisty-turny to describe in detail here, Neptune and her friends eventually manage to help Uzume come to terms with her past and realise that her memories have become tainted by hatred and regret; her people, in fact, loved her and cherished her, and it was with a heavy heart that they saw her sealed away for the protection of everyone.

There are two endings to MegaNep: one in which Uzume sacrifices herself to ensure her dark counterpart is not able to send a horde of monsters from her delusional “Heart Dimension” into Neptune’s Hyper Dimension, and another in which Neptune and her friends refuse to leave her to die, and ultimately help her to overcome her darkness. This latter one is the True ending, and it demonstrates beyond a shadow of a doubt that the team at Idea Factory and Compile Heart hold the Dreamcast in considerable esteem; the truth about Uzume’s past is described with such a wonderfully warm feeling of fondness that it’s hard not to feel extremely nostalgic if you happened to be there when it all happened in our world, and the Neptunia series’ biggest strength — characterisation and the feeling of bonds between these characters — really shines through as everyone expresses their love for Uzume and she, likewise, expresses her love for them.

What also made the ending satisfying, aside from this wonderfully genuine-feeling appreciation for the Dreamcast and its games, was the Neptunia series trademark “Thank You Corner”, where the cast completely break the fourth wall and address the player directly, thanking them for playing and showering them with praise for beating the game. This is always a lovely moment in every Neptunia game, but in the case of MegaNep it feels particularly heartfelt; it’s obvious that the words coming out of the mouths of the characters are actually those of the series’ creators, expressing their gratitude for the series having gone from strength to strength over the years, overcoming the adversity of its early installments’ poor reviews, widespread ignorance from the press and self-professed RPG “experts” that persists to this day, and ultimately becoming a genuinely rather wonderful franchise that I really don’t want to see the back of any time soon.

In many ways, it was like a “curtain call” for the game, and while previous Neptunia games have handled this in much the same way, there was something about this moment in MegaNep that made it more satisfying and touching than it’s ever been before. It’s a rare and wonderful feeling for a creative work to seem like it’s talking directly to you, but the Neptunia series has always felt that way, and never more so than with Megadimension Neptunia VII.

Onwards to the post-game, then; I have trophies to clean up and Colosseum battles to fight! (And in the meantime, I promise I’ll find something new to write about soon.)

2231: Initial Impressions on Alexander: Midas

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Tonight, we cleared the last area of the new raid dungeon in Final Fantasy XIV… in its “normal” incarnation, anyway. Savage is likely to prove a somewhat stiffer challenge, but regular ol’ vanilla had plenty of hurdles to overcome, too.

Now that we’ve been through all four of the new raids, I thought I’d ponder how I felt about them, and about Alexander as a whole compared to The Binding Coil of Bahamut.

The first thing to note about Alexander is that the overall tone of the whole thing is very different to Coil. Coil represented one of the most serious, dramatic parts of Final Fantasy XIV’s story, and over its entirety revealed some very significant background lore about the Allagans and the Meracydians, both of whom we’d seen mentioned (and occasionally explored the relics of) but never encountered, mostly due to them both being long dead.

Alexander, meanwhile, largely concerns the goblins, and much like their Final Fantasy XI counterparts, goblins in Final Fantasy XIV are rather silly, afflicted with distinctive speech patterns and, for the most part, there for comic relief. They’re not very threatening, in other words, so for them to be introduced as the main villains of the new raid cycle was… interesting, to say the least.

The overall aesthetic of Alexander is very different to Coil, too. Coil began as an expedition into the bowels of the earth and gradually gave way into a combination of fantastic, otherworldly scenery and pure sci-fi, futuristic environments, many of which were absolutely breathtaking in their scale. Alexander, conversely, has a pretty consistent “steampunk” look throughout its entirety, though Midas does a somewhat better job than Gordias in terms of presenting a bit of variety in the way things look.

This difference in aesthetic extends to the main attraction of the raids, too: the bosses. In Coil, you fought a wide variety of foes, ranging from a giant genetically modified snake to a fearsome dragon god via technologically advanced defence systems, a bioengineered lamia, a robot treant and, of course, the reincarnation of Final Fantasy XIV 1.0’s main villain, Nael van Darnus, now going by Nael deus Darnus having apparently changed gender and gone a bit, well, dragonish.

Alexander, conversely, sees you fighting a lot of things in a similar mould: in Gordias, you fight a large steampunk robot thing, followed by a swarm of goblins and large steampunk robot things, followed by a squishy Pepsiman wannabe in what appears to be a sewage outlet, concluding with a battle against The Manipulator, which is a large steampunk robot thing. Midas is a bit better: first you fight a mad scientist goblin who keeps drinking his own concoctions and growing to Hulk-like proportions, then you fight a series of four large steampunk robot things, then you fight the main villain of the plot arc (and his cat), then finally you fight five large steampunk robot things — four of which you fought earlier in the raid — that then combine to make one enormous steampunk robot thing.

While I still like Alexander less than Coil in terms of its aesthetic and enemy designs, Midas is a big step in a better direction. Everything about it is better, from the variety between the four areas to the background plot that is revealed as you progress, which was rather lacking and forgettable in Gordias. It still lacks some of the outright drama that Coil had — the final boss of this particular cycle is an intense fight, but it’s more chaotically humorous than terrifying like Twintania, Nael and Bahamut were — but things are improving a lot.

Of particular note is the boss music for the final boss, which I present with some pleasure for you below, in all its ’70s anime glory:

Happy with how things have turned out with 3.2. I was getting concerned the game was losing its magic, but it’s well and truly back on target.