After some further time with Final Fantasy Type-0, I'm now 100% on board with what it has to offer. It's a slow burn, to be sure — its rather drab early hours don't really sell it all that well, but by the time it's flinging Alexander, Bahamut Zero and Gilgamesh (including the correct music) around with gay abandon it's hard not to enjoy the ride.

I'm planning a Final Fantasy month over at MoeGamer at some point in the near future, so I'll write more about this then, but I did want to comment a little on the game's tone, because it's markedly different from the mainline Final Fantasy series, and makes this abundantly clear from the outset.

Mainline Final Fantasy games are benchmark JRPGs for many people; they're regarded as the quintessential example of "young hero gathers a band of companions and saves the world", despite a number of installments deviating from this stereotypical formula. One thing you can say with a reasonable amount of confidence, however, is that, on balance, they're optimistic affairs, all about bonds of friendship and love overcoming great evil and that sort of thing. This isn't to say that the series doesn't have its dark moments — in fact, several installments' darkest moments make up some of the most iconic and influential moments in all of gaming history — but on the whole, it's a series designed to make you feel like part of a heroic epic with all the optimism that involves.

Type-0, meanwhile, occupies the complete other end of the spectrum. I talked a little yesterday about how it de-emphasises the role of the individual in favour of a large cast of characters, and the further you play, the more this becomes apparent. Part of Type-0's background lore is the fact that when someone dies, anyone who knew them forgets who they were, even if they were very close. This is one of many reflections the game makes on the horrors of war; a very literal interpretation of Stalin's supposed (and possibly misattributed) quote "when one dies, it is a tragedy; when a million die, it is a statistic".

Type-0 lays it on fairly thick with its depictions of the brutality and the senselessness of war. It doesn't do so in a particularly preachy manner, however; the game's setup is such that it's fair to spend some time pondering whether anyone — including the side you're on — are the "good guys" in the conflict depicted. Instead, we simply see various horrors unfolding, both through the eyes of Class Zero on the ground, and through the distant detachment of the narrator during the documentary-style cutscenes that punctuate the main beats of the narrative as a whole.

One particularly chilling moment comes in the aftermath of a mission late in the game, which culminates with your side in the conflict summoning Alexander as an ultimate weapon of mass destruction; in order to do so, many of your allies give up their lives as they channel their magic and life force into the summoning. The devastation that Alexander wreaks is immense, presented to you in simple, cold statistics — white text on a black screen — after the battle is over. While in the heat of the moment, Alexander's summoning is pure Final Fantasy fanservice, the realisation that the spectacular light show you just witnessed cost the lives of many people on both sides of the conflict makes you wonder whether or not it was worth it.

I'm nearing the end of the game now, I think; just two more chapters to go. I'll be interested to see how it ends — particularly if it concludes on as bleak a note as its opening sequence, featuring a seriously wounded soldier trying his best to reach his destination with his also wounded chocobo, then finally dying, forgotten, on the streets as the conflict continues to rage around him. I'm also interested to do a second playthrough once I've beaten it once; not only are you at a more suitable level to tackle the optional "Expert Trials" on a second playthrough, there are also additional missions called "Code Crimson" which add additional details and context to the story.

Considering Type-0 is a spinoff game in the Final Fantasy series rather than a mainline installment — and considering it originated as a Japan-only, handheld-only title — it's impressive quite how much lore has been packed into this game, all of it reviewable through an in-game encyclopaedia. You don't need to know most of it to appreciate the story, mind you; it's simply there as "additional reading" if you find it interesting. While I wasn't sure about Type-0 when I first started playing it, the longer I spend with it, the more fascinating I find this war-torn world that seems to be on a collision course with absolute disaster, so I very much welcome this additional content, particularly as some of it comes in the form of cutscenes that explain what happens to a number of minor characters along the way.

I'll have definitely beaten it at least once by the time Final Fantasy XV rolls around; whether I'll have made it through any more of that remains to be seen, but now I'm familiar with how it all works and got to know the characters, I'm certainly up for a bit of New Game Plus.

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In anticipation of the imminent Final Fantasy XV — a game which I am getting increasingly desperate to play the closer its release date creeps — I decided to boot up a game I've had on my shelf for a while, but haven't really done anything with: Final Fantasy Type-0 HD for PlayStation 4.

I had pretty much no idea what I was in for when I fired it up for the first time. I just knew, prior to its release, that it was a well-regarded game for PSP that had previously been confined to Japan, and that people had been clamouring for a localisation for quite some time. In fact, so desperate were English speakers for an English version of the game that there was already a decent quality fan translation of the PSP version available, though in order to play that you'd need to 1) know how to "do" PSP homebrew and 2) be willing to "do" PSP homebrew.

In other words, Final Fantasy Type-0 was a mystery to me when I first started it. After about 15 or so hours with it so far, I think I've kind of got my head around what it's all about and where it sits in relation to other Final Fantasy spinoff games — and the mainline series, for that matter.

Type-0 (formerly Final Fantasy Agito XIII) is part of the overly ambitious Fabula Nova Crystallis series which also includes the Final Fantasy XIII games and the upcoming Final Fantasy XV (formerly Final Fantasy Versus XIII), though since the series was first conceived each of the projects kind of diverged off in its own direction — hence the name changes, abandoning the direct links to XIII — so that now they only have the loosest of thematic and stylistic connections with one another.

That said, Type-0's mythology is quite closely related to that of Final Fantasy XIII despite unfolding in a different world, with particular regard to the existence of "l'Cie", individuals who have submitted themselves to the will of a superior entity (in FFXIII's case, powerful godlike beings called fal'Cie; in Type-0, the "peristylium" crystals that form the centrepieces of the game world Orience's various city-states) and an obligation to fulfil some grand purpose called a Focus in exchange for kinda-sorta immortality and badass magical powers. Unlike Final Fantasy XIII, you don't play l'Cie in Type-0; they're part of the backdrop of the ongoing story.

Type-0's narrative focuses on the dominion of Rubrum and its elite training facility Akademeia. Across thirteen classes, Akademeia trains young people to become Agito, the best of the best when it comes to martial and magical prowess. Among the classes, the cream of the crop is found in Class Zero, a unit of youngsters with particularly exceptional powers that has, until the events at the start of the game, been kept somewhat secret from the rest of Akademeia.

Class Zero is brought out of hiding and into immediate active service as Agito Cadets when the Militesi Empire invades Rubrum's capital and Akademeia itself. Against rather improbable odds — including a l'Cie — they manage to push back the imperial incursion and retake Akademeia, giving Rubrum the opportunity to pick itself up and start planning a counter-offensive. From here, Class Zero plays a leading role in helping Rubrum to expand its territory, push the Militesi Empire back and prevent them from deploying any more of their weapons of mass destruction, such as the Ultima Bomb which devastated one of the other city-states of Orience.

If this all sounds highly political and like the setup for a strategy game such as Final Fantasy Tactics… well, you'd be wrong, technically, but there is something to that comparison, which we'll get onto in a moment.

In actual fact, Type-0 is an action RPG in which you control a single member of Class Zero at once — accompanied by up to two of their classmates, depending on the situation — as they attempt to complete missions for Rubrum and, in between mission days, wander the dominion generally helping out and making life miserable for the Militesi Empire. Unlike mainline Final Fantasy games (with the possible exception of XII) where the emphasis tends to be on the core cast's personal stories, Type-0's plot is less about individuals and more about the ongoing conflict between Rubrum and Militesi.

Each member of Class Zero is unique in their capabilities. Each one wields a different weapon, which all handle very differently from one another, and each one has a unique skill tree, though there is some overlap in common abilities between numerous class members. Some are better at dealing or taking physical damage, some are ranged attackers, others have particularly strong magical capabilities. Ultimately, the best approach to playing the game is to try and keep the entire squad levelled up pretty evenly, which means you're going to need to get comfortable with playing at least a few of the characters, and perhaps bring the ones you don't like so much in the AI-controlled slots so they still get some experience.

The reason I mention Final Fantasy Tactics earlier is that the way you set up your characters in Type-0 bears more than a passing resemblance, albeit without the deep and complex Job system that Tactics has. In Tactics, each character had the ability to equip two different "Job commands" at the same time, allowing them to mix abilities and spells from two classes at the same time. In Type-0, your character has two main ability slots, up to one of which can contain a spell — though some characters can unlock an ability to equip two spells — and the other of which can contain one of their unique abilities. There's also a third ability slot dedicated to defensive magic and abilities, allowing characters to equip curative spells, protective spells or physical abilities such as blocking damage.

In order to succeed in Type-0's missions, you ideally need a mix of different capabilities, since you'll run into enemies that are strong or weak against particular types of attacks, and sometimes you'll encounter enemies that are out of melee reach — on balconies, for example — necessitating ranged attacks. In other words, it's not simply a case of equipping all of your cadets with equipment and abilities that boosts their physical attack power as high as possible; you need to understand which ones are intended as mages, outfit them accordingly and them complement them with physical melee and ranged attackers to cover every eventuality.

The combat system itself takes a little getting used to. You control a single character at a time, and the face buttons on the PlayStation controller are mapped to normal attack with your weapon (Square), abilities and spells (Triangle and X) and defensive abilities (Circle). You can "lock on" to enemies and keep them in sight by holding the right shoulder button, and dodge with Circle while moving.

Notably, attacking doesn't require button-mashing; characters instead continuously attack while you hold down Square. Some characters have different moves available if you push forward or backward on the analog stick while holding square; Sice, for example, has a gap-closing leaping slash forwards when you push forward, an attack behind her when you push backwards and a standard melee combo if you just hold the button without a direction.

The different weapons are all very… well, different, and in order to succeed with a character you need to familiarise yourself with not just the abilities you can equip, but the amount of time the character's various animations take to complete. This is because Type-0's combat is heavy on timed hits; while locked on to an enemy, they will occasionally show a weakness, usually right after an attack or if they're knocked off balance. During this time, depending on the enemy's remaining HP, your lock on reticle will turn either yellow (Breaksight) or red (Killsight), and if you land a successful hit with either a physical attack or magic while either of these is active, you'll do enormous damage, even killing the enemy immediately in the case of Killsight.

Just hitting the attack button as soon as you see the markers isn't generally enough, however; most characters have a bit of a wind-up to their attacks, meaning if you start an attack when the marker appears, you'll probably miss the window by the time it actually impacts the enemy. Instead, you need to watch the enemy animations to anticipate when Breaksight or Killsight are going to appear, and over time you'll come to recognise how different enemy types behave in order to take maximum advantage of this feature. Pudding-type enemies, for example, rear back before they swipe at a foe; when you see them do this, dodging to the side to avoid the strike then immediately launching a forward+Square attack with most characters is a good way to hit their Killsight window perfectly every time.

Type-0 is very much a mechanics-focused game rather than a story-centric game, which puts it somewhat at odds with the mainline Final Fantasy series, but firmly in keeping with many of the spin-off titles such as the aforementioned Final Fantasy Tactics. That's not to say the story is bad — I'm not that far in so far, but it's been a suitably dramatic "wartime epic" so far, with many of its important moments presented in an appealing "documentary" style — but rather it's a game in which its individual characters are of significantly lesser importance than the big picture.

It's an acquired taste, in other words. I wasn't sure I was going to like it all that much when I first started playing, and indeed I know a few people who bounced off it quite quickly. However, give it some time and get to know how the combat works, and it becomes quite rewarding and satisfying. There's plenty of side content to do besides the main missions, and it's one of the most replayable Final Fantasy games I've ever seen, with a second playthrough not only seeing your Cadets at a suitable level to tackle tougher challenges, but also rewarding you with additional story material at various points.

Give it a chance if you haven't already. It's not the best game to ever bear the Final Fantasy name, but it's a solid, interesting game in its own right that demonstrates, once again, that Square Enix isn't at all afraid to experiment and do all manner of strange, wonderful things beneath the Final Fantasy banner.

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Secondly, the more "major" news for many was the announcement that Trails of Cold Steel — known to Japanese fans as Sen no Kiseki or its previous unofficial English moniker Trails in the Flash — is also coming West. Not only that, the first of its two chapters is pretty much finished and almost ready to go.

For the unfamiliar, Trails of Cold Steel is part of the Legend of Heroes series by Falcom, a long-running and deeply, deeply respected series of role-playing games. We haven't had a lot of them over here in the West, but PSP (and later PC) installmentTrails in the Sky First Chapter came out a few years back to critical acclaim — I wrote some words about it here — and its own Second Chapter is coming shortly having nearly killed poor Andrew Dice of Carpe Fulgur, who worked on the mammoth job of translating its extremely substantial script.

After the initial joy at the announcement came some concern from long-standing series fans who had played Trails in the Sky's follow-up games Zero no Kiseki, Ao no Kiseki and Trails in the Sky Third Chapter. Unlike many of the previous Legend of Heroes games, the Kiseki games have a deep relationship with one another, with each of the three "groups" of games (Trails in the Sky, Zero/Ao no Kiseki and Trails of Cold Steel) unfolding on a different part of the same continent. The games all refer to one another and act as "prequels" to one another, so some fans were concerned that newcomers to Trails of Cold Steel would be thrown in at the deep end having missed three whole games' worth of lore and background. And the Kiseki series is not what you'd call light on lore; in fact, it features some of the most well-realised worldbuilding of any RPG I've played.

Brittany "Hatsuu" Avery of Xseed, one of my absolute favourite people in the games industry, took to the Xseed blog to address some of these concerns. And she's certainly set my mind at rest.

To summarise, the reasons why we're not getting Zero and Ao — yet, anyway, since there's a strong suggestion that they will come at a later date, probably on PC — is partly due to technological and marketing concerns. Zero and Ao are PSP games, you see, and while there are still a few PSP games trickling out here and there due to their Vita compatibility — Trails in the Sky Second Chapter will be one — the PSP as a platform has technically been "dead" for some time. As such, it makes sense to push out Trails of Cold Steel for PS3 and Vita, since both of those platforms are still relevant at this time — PS3 is on the decline somewhat, but while developers such as Idea Factory/Compile Heart, Nippon Ichi and Square Enix have made the transition to PS4, there are still a number of PS3 titles incoming for the next year or two at least. Vita, meanwhile, for all the press' attempts to declare it "dead" every few weeks, is enjoying a small-scale but successful existence as the go-to platform for fans of role-playing games and other Japanese fare.

Hatsuu also notes that Xseed took this decision with the full approval of the games' original developers Falcom, whose original intention was always that the three sub-series of the overarching Kiseki storyline could stand on their own and be played in any order. In fact, what you'd get from playing them "out of order" would be an experience and perspective on the overall story unique to Western players and different to what Japan had. Kind of like the difference between watching the Star Wars films in chronological order of release or watching them in "canonical" order from I-VI.

Trails in the Sky First Chapter was a stunning game that I enjoyed very much, and I'm glad to see the rest of this highly regarded series is coming West. It may not be in the "right" order and that may have a few snooty fans being a bit salty, but I'm more than happy to support Xseed taking on ambitious projects of this magnitude and delivering them with aplomb. Xseed are one of my favourite developer-publisher-localisation outfits right now, and they deserve the support of anyone who loves Japanese games.

The post 1963: Cold Steel appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Final Fantasy II came to Western shores considerably after its original release; it wasn't until the PlayStation release of Final Fantasy Origins that we'd get to play it in English for the first time, but, like its predecessor, it's subsequently been enhanced and ported to a variety of different platforms. I've been playing the PSP version via the Vita, which, again like its predecessor, incorporates a bunch of extra content, though I'm yet to encounter any of it aside from the entrance to an ominous-sounding (and huge-looking) optional dungeon.

Final Fantasy II is thought of in somewhat mixed terms by many people, to put it politely. It's absolutely hated by others, and those who like it are in something of a minority. I'm one of them, though; it's an interesting game, and while its mechanics don't quite work as well as they could, it was a bold experiment whose systems we can still see at work today in games like The Elder Scrolls and its ilk.

Final Fantasy II's unique selling point was that it had no experience points and no levels. Instead, you levelled up individual skills and stats by making use of them. Want to get stronger? Hit things. Want to get better at casting spells? Cast more spells. Want to be able to take more damage? Take some damage. It's quite logical when you think about it, though it does tend to encourage a certain degree of gaming the system, and there's a number of glaring flaws in it, too, such as the fact that characters in the back row of your party (which one of them is in by default at the start of the game) will never take any damage except from things that affect the whole party, and thus their HP counts will be left trailing considerably behind the rest of the group. The game is also somewhat notorious for seemingly encouraging players to attack their own party members in the name of boosting their HP quickly.

The PSP version maintains this peculiar levelling system, but so far I haven't really encountered a major issue with it, and like the PSP version of Final Fantasy I, the pacing feels like it may have been tweaked slightly, though this is only my gut feeling rather than being based on any research. But it certainly feels like the game's been made to push you onwards rather than force you to grind; fight a number of battles, and your characters' HP totals will increase naturally, for example, even if they haven't taken any damage recently. You still need to make use of appropriate actions to build up your stats, but there's a certain degree of natural progression that comes from just playing the game.

The interesting thing about Final Fantasy II's system is that it essentially allows you to build your own characters — something that wasn't really possible in its predecessor aside from choosing which three of the four available spells for each magic level your White and Black Mages got to choose from — by naturally moulding them to fit your play style. Because of the flexibility of the system, this also means that you can create unstoppable, multi-talented characters who are strong, tough and capable of flinging devastating magic spells around when required. (In fact, the game's ultimate magic requires that your character has advanced in as many different areas as possible in order to power itself up.) In practice, though, you'll probably tend to find that the characters naturally evolve according to how you use them.

In my party, for example, I have protagonist Firion as a fighter/white mage type character, or probably a Paladin in Final Fantasy terms. He is good at fighting with swords and using shields, but is also able to cast White Magic spells such as Cure, Life and Protect. Several of these spells start off being next to useless — Protect often "misses", for example — so you need to get him to "practice" them in the field to make them worthwhile additions to your arsenal. Taking the time to do that is eminently worth it, however.

The other interesting thing about Final Fantasy II that is unrelated to its unusual progression system is the fact that it's so story-heavy compared to its predecessor. Final Fantasy I was essentially a case of "Bad shit is happening in the world! Go explore and stop it!" and little else; Final Fantasy II, meanwhile, has named characters, events, cutscenes and a genuinely interesting ongoing plot. It's not what you might expect from your typical NES-era game, in other words; and with its new coat of paint in its more recent PlayStation and PSP incarnations, it actually stands up pretty well as a modern RPG.

I'm enjoying it, in other words, but I still have a long way to go yet!

The post 1831: Second Fantasy appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

This may have something to do with the fact that I was playing the PSP version, also known as Final Fantasy Anniversary Edition, which has been substantially tweaked and rebalanced from both the original NES release and the subsequent enhanced PSone Final Fantasy Origins version, which I played last time I beat this first installment.

While there's an argument that it's worth experiencing the game in its original, purest, grind-heavy and rather difficult form — complete with its Vancian Magic system, just one of many influences the game drew from Dungeons & Dragons — the PSP version proved to be a lot more enjoyable generally. The pacing was better, there was a lot less running around in circles grinding — the original required you to do this to even beat the first boss, which appeared before the game's title screen — and the more traditional Magic Points system made some of the more lengthy encounters and dungeons later in the game somewhat more feasible.

Those late-game dungeons — four of which were added in the Game Boy Advance Dawn of Souls release of the game and the last of which was added in the Anniversary Edition release — proved to be really great, if a little bizarre. Collectively dubbed the Soul of Chaos, the first four extra dungeons live up to their name by tasking you with exploring 5, 10, 20 and 40 floors that feature set layouts but randomised floor orders and available treasures. There's not really a coherent theme to the dungeon floors as such — although the less interesting floors tend to be of an appropriate element to the dungeon's name: fiery caverns in Hellfire Chasm, for example — but the chaotic, unpredictable nature of them is what makes them interesting. On one floor you might be exploring a cave; the next you might be paddling a canoe around a flooded village; on the next, you might be attempting to navigate a maze of bookshelves while scholars mumble about their research and get in your way.

The final new dungeon, known as the Labyrinth of Time, was the most interesting by far, however. The Labyrinth of Time creates a new dungeon each time by picking ten different "puzzle floors" out of a selection of 30, then challenging you to beat these puzzles against the clock and with one or more of your abilities sealed off. The more abilities you seal off — and the more useful they are — the more time you have available to complete a floor. Run out of time and a dark miasma descends, damaging you every second and increasing the number of monsters you encounter.

The puzzles vary from simple observation puzzles, in which you have to answer questions about something you've just seen, to challenging physical tasks such as marching in line with a group of NPC soldiers. Like the Soul of Chaos dungeons, they have little to do with the overall Final Fantasy story — what little story it has anyway — but they're immensely enjoyable and challenging to complete. And then at the end of it all you have Chronodia, one of the toughest bosses in the game, to fight for ultimate bragging rights… oh, and the best sword in the game, too.

The first time I played Final Fantasy I, with the Origins release, I did so in order to understand the series' roots, and sort of had a good time, but found it a bit of a chore after a while. The PSP version, meanwhile, I found genuinely enjoyable, even from a modern perspective, and was inspired to go on and complete the game's most challenging content. I have absolutely no hesitation in recommending it to anyone looking for a fun portable RPG experience — and those of you without a PSP can even play it on your phone.

Onwards to Final Fantasy II, then, which I remember enjoying quite a lot the first time I tried it (again, with Origins) but which is widely regarded to be one of the worst installments in the whole series thanks to its bafflingly bizarre mechanics. For Fynn! Wild Rose!

The post 1824: First Fantasy appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I made a start on Final Fantasy today. I've played this a couple of times over the years, though never the original NES version. Rather, my past forays into it have been on the Final Fantasy Origins version on PlayStation 1, an upgraded port with 16-bit-style visuals and a significantly enhanced soundtrack over the bleepy, blurpy NES chiptunes of the original. (It was also bundled with a similarly upgraded port of Final Fantasy II, which was also the first time that game had ever made it outside of Japan.)

This time around, however, I'm playing the PSP version on my Vita. I wasn't expecting anything particularly different from the Origins version, but already something feels a little different. The pacing feels better when it comes to levelling; it seems to take a lot less time to gain a level, leading to significantly less running around in circles fighting armies of wolves just to beef yourself up enough to enter the first dungeon. The magic system's adoption of a more traditional magic points system rather than the NES original's D&D-style "you can only cast this level of spells this many times" mechanic also makes White and Black Mages seem somewhat less useless, which is nice.

The original Final Fantasy is an odd beast, really. It's unmistakeably a Japanese role-playing game in look and feel, but it's clearly heavily inspired by Western fantasy, even going so far as to directly reference numerous Dungeons and Dragons elements such as monsters, races and the like. It's abundantly clear that Final Fantasy is Dungeons and Dragons through a Japanese lens, in other words, and it works rather well. It's actually relatively rare for Japanese role-playing games to play the fantasy tropes completely straight these days, as they often tend to incorporate elements of sci-fi along the way, making for a curiously distinctive mix of influences. Nowhere is this more apparent in the evolution of the Final Fantasy series over the years, which has all but abandoned its roots with the most recent installments — with the exception of XIV, which is deliberately very true to said roots, directly referencing past games at numerous junctures throughout.

The limitations of video game storytelling in the era when it was originally released are still apparent in the PSP rerelease, but the gameplay additions at least make it significantly more playable to a modern audience. I'll be interested to see what tweaks — if any — have been made to the somewhat idiosyncratic Final Fantasy II for its PSP incarnation, but I have quite a journey ahead of me before I can start that particular adventure.

For now, it's time to let Garland try and knock me all down… I have a suspicion he will be unsuccessful in his efforts, and the lovely Princess Sarah will be returned to her rightful place in Cornelia Castle before long.

The post 1804: First Fantasy appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Lest you're unfamiliar, Velocity 2X is the sequel to Velocity (and its Vita remake Velocity Ultra), the brainchild of a UK-based developer called FuturLab who are some of the nicest people in the industry.

I'll talk more about Velocity 2X when I've had a chance to sit down and play it for a while — I have played an early version, but I haven't even booted up the final release yet. Today, then, I wanted to talk a little about its predecessor, and why it means I'm excited to play 2X.

Velocity was a curious hybrid of genres, and it drifted and changed through different play styles as you progressed through it. Sometimes it was a vertically scrolling shoot 'em up. Sometimes it was a vertically scrolling racing game in which you had to fly efficiently and carefully in order to survive. Sometimes it was a clever puzzle game in which you had to teleport back and forth throughout the level in order to unlock the path to the exist. And more often than not, it was a beautiful, seamless combination of all these things.

The whole thing was wrapped in a wonderfully distinctive shell, too; an aesthetic that combined sharp-edged, flat-shaded vector graphics with Amiga-style background music to produce something that felt simultaneously retro-inspired but also thoroughly modern. The game regularly brought to mind 16-bit computer titles of my youth such as Goldrunner, but obviously it was quite a bit better than those. The atmosphere was there, though, and the understanding of what makes a truly satisfying, addictive game.

Velocity was a brilliant handheld game, too. Its levels were short, but very replayable in pursuit of the elusive "Perfect" ratings. Its leaderboard functionality perhaps left something to be desired — it wasn't at all clear how scoring worked, and it was ultimately fairly irrelevant since getting a "Perfect" rating would probably mean you got a very similar score to everyone else with the same rating anyway — but it wasn't really about competing against other people. Rather, it was you against the game; a series of increasingly fiendish, well-designed challenges that made great use of the game's simple to understand mechanics amid levels of greater and greater complexity.

Velocity 2X, if you were wondering, takes the basic formula of Velocity and adds an interesting twist to it all: platforming. Rather than being confined to your ship in a top-down perspective throughout the whole game, 2X incorporates side-on platformer segments, too. When I played the early version, these were already implemented well, and I understand they've only improved since then. I'm very much looking forward to giving it a try.

So that's exactly what I'm going to go and do right now. If you have a Vita and/or a PS4, I can say with some confidence that you should probably download Velocity 2X and enjoy it — yes, I say that with some confidence having admitted above that I haven't played the finished version yet. I have absolute faith in FuturLab bringing an ambitious project to fruition, though, so I wish them every success with their new release.

Further thoughts on the new game tomorrow!

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So I finally finished Sweet Fuse this evening and I'm very happy I did.

For those disinclined to look back over my previous entries about this game, here's the quick version: it's a visual novel for PSP (Vita-compatible) in which you play Saki Inafune, niece of Mega Man designer Keiji Inafune, as she gets trapped in a theme park at the behest of a terrorist dressed as a pig. Along the way, she encounters a selection of fine-looking gentlemen and, over the course of seven days, gets to know at least one of them very well indeed.

Sweet Fuse has an utterly ridiculous premise, but ultimately it's little more than a gimmick or hook to draw you in to the game proper: the story itself plays itself admirably and consistently straight throughout, not being afraid to tone down the light-hearted humour in favour of some pathos or outright tragedy at times. Saki herself is at times a little ill-defined as a character, but such is the nature of the visual novel protagonist, whether they're male or female: they have to be flexible enough to make the various routes through the narrative plausible, and also non-specific enough to make them identifiable with for a wide proportion of the audience.

The nice thing about Sweet Fuse's story is that you don't get the whole truth in a single playthrough. In fact, depending on which of the game's cast members you choose to pursue, you might not get the truth at all. Follow the path for Towa Wakasa, young boy band idol, and you'll have an enjoyably romantic little tale in which you find out a bit about Wakasa himself — and how Saki feels about him — but you'll learn almost nothing about the motivations behind Hogstein's hijack of the park and the deadly game he makes the cast play. (You do, however, get a tiny teaser which is easily missed if you're not paying attention.) Conversely, play through the route for Subaru Shidou, detective originally intended to be in charge of the park's security on its opening day, and you'll get tantalisingly close to the complete truth without revealing absolutely everything. It's not until you play the route for the "secret" character, which only opens up from a second playthrough onwards, that you get a full, final and complete explanation of what has truly been going on.

And, without spoiling it here, I was surprised at the nature of the truth. As previously noted, the expectation for Sweet Fuse, given its premise and setup, is for the story to be rather light-hearted in nature — and indeed, there's a lot of self-consciously ridiculous stuff that goes on. But ultimately there's a serious core to what has been going on — and it doesn't feel out of place, despite the fact that the villain you're pursuing throughout the narrative is almost constantly dressed as a cigar-smoking pig with a disco ball around his neck.

Ultimately, your response to Sweet Fuse will depend on how much you care for the rather "hands-off" nature of most visual novels: despite the premise of the game being somewhat akin to the Zero Escape series, there are no real "puzzles" to solve as such; the most you have to do throughout the game is pick the right choice when one comes up, or occasionally pick out the most important word or phrase from a monologue in order to proceed. In other words, the game is extremely light on "gameplay" and this may disappoint a few people — particularly given that the theme park that forms the game's setting is supposed to be based on video games — but it works and, on reflection, is probably a sensible choice; breaking up the game with, well, "gameplay", would break its flow and run the risk of you not being able to proceed due to, to put it politely, a deficit in your own skills. By handling it this way, anyone can see the story through to its conclusion, and thanks to convenient quicksave, fast-forward and rewind functions, going back to see other possible outcomes to various scenarios is quick and painless, too. I played through two whole routes in a single day today, albeit fast-forwarding through the first three "common route" chapters and just making the appropriate choices where necessary. That still left four unique chapters per character, though.

I'm glad I played through Sweet Fuse, as it ended up being really, surprisingly good. I was immediately intrigued by the premise — and I love seeing the face of people when I explain it to them — but what I found was actually rather different from what I expected, in a very positive way.

If you have a Vita or a PSP and are hungry for an interesting story-based game to while away some time with, you could do far worse than a copy of Sweet Fuse, then. Highly recommended.

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This peculiar game is a visual novel-cum-dating sim in which you take on the role of Saki Inafune, niece of legendary game designer Keiji Inafune (of Mega Man and Mighty No. 9 fame), as she gets caught up in a plot led by a terrorist dressed as a pig to take over the video game-inspired theme park Inafune-san designed. Along the way Saki (and you) will encounter several gentleman friends, each of whom has their own unique narrative path that branches off in the latter half of the game after a shared beginning.

Sweet Fuse is what's known as an otome game, meaning it's primarily aimed at a heterosexual female audience — or at least depicts heterosexual romances from the perspective of a female protagonist. Such games are relatively widespread in their native Japan, but it's quite rare to get them localised for the Western market, which still seems to assume for the most part that the majority of gamers out there are testosterone-filled heterosexual men. As such, Sweet Fuse immediately sets itself apart from other games of its type — and this is without taking its unusual premise into account.

Speaking as a heterosexual gentleman who has played his fair share of bishoujo games (visual novels and dating sims aimed at a heterosexual male audience) I initially wasn't quite sure what to make of Sweet Fuse. In this type of game you're often encouraged to put yourself in the shoes of the protagonist to such a degree that they rarely appear on-screen and, when they speak, their dialogue is unvoiced. This is, in theory, to allow the player to project themselves onto the protagonist and imagine it's themselves embroiled in the situations depicted throughout — be they fantastic, romantic, erotic, strange or just plain messed up. It's an effective device that tends to work well. But, I found myself questioning before I started playing the game for the first time, will this still work if the protagonist is a different gender to me?

The question of whether male players can "identify" with female protagonists is often mocked among the more social justice-happy members of the games press, but in the dating sim and visual novel space, where you're encouraged to inhabit the role of the lead character a lot more intimately than in other types of interactive entertainment, it's an important consideration. Part of the way these games work on an emotional level is down to your own personal opinions and tastes — who do you find attractive or desirable, physically, sexually, emotionally and in terms of their personality? If you're outside the target audience of a work, inhabiting the headspace of a protagonist that pointedly is not you, and considering potential partners that are contrary to your own usual sexual preferences, can that really "work"?

Well, of course it can; most of us have read books, seen films, watched TV series where we've rooted for characters to get together, even if they don't match our own characteristics or preferences — and for female fans of games, they have to do this a lot of the time anyway. All this is, I've found, abundantly true with Sweet Fuse. As a heterosexual dude, it's liberating to play the role of Saki and consider the virtues and vices of these different men as I choose which of the narrative paths to pursue. And, it turns out, it's not all that difficult to put yourself in Saki's shoes and contemplate which one is most attractive or desirable. (Urabe. Without a doubt.)

Like any good visual novel, Sweet Fuse's various narrative paths are all unique, but all feed into a single interpretation of what is going on. Pursuing a single character and then putting the game down gives you a satisfying ending to the story, sure, but in some cases doesn't reveal any of the truth behind the bizarre situation that forms the basis for the game. Others provide teases of information; others still are clearly the "main" routes that provide the most information. All are worth exploring — and it's for this reason that I've picked up Sweet Fuse again after quite some time not playing it.

With, I think, two routes left to go (plus possibly a refresher on the others I've previously completed) I still haven't got to the bottom of the mystery surrounding Count Hogstein and his apparent vendetta against the main cast. I'm very much looking forward to discovering the truth — the paths I've played to date have been by turns heartwarming, touching, intriguing and thrilling; now, it's time to see Saki's saga through to its conclusion, and wonder if we'll ever see a game quite like Sweet Fuse in the West again.

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Velocity, in case you've never come across it before, is a game from the Brighton-based indie developer FuturLab. It began its life as a PlayStation Minis title for PS3 and PSP, then was subsequently ported to Vita with numerous enhancements as Velocity Ultra. So positive was the reception to the first game, it seems, that the team at FuturLab is currently in the process of putting together a sequel — a sequel that's looking rather fab, if the early version I had the good fortune to play at the recent <a href="http://www.usgamer.net/articles/egx-turning-up-the-velocity" target="_blank">Eurogamer Expo</a> is anything to go by.

But I want to talk about the original today, or rather Velocity Ultra. I reviewed Velocity Ultra a while back for USgamer and enjoyed it a lot, but I must confess that in the process of reviewing it, I didn't make it through every little bit of content it had to offer — largely because doing so would have taken significantly longer than I had time for, and also because I'd already seen a lot of it in Velocity's previous incarnation as a PlayStation Minis title.

I've been going back to clean up what I missed in the game recently, though, and I'm reminded of what a fantastic game it is. Beginning as what appears to be a relatively straightforward top-down shooter, the game gradually evolves, changes and grows in complexity as it progresses; firstly, you get the ability to teleport over short distances (including through walls); then you get the ability to drop telepods at strategic points in the level in order to teleport over long distances and take alternative routes. By the time you get through all 50 of the game's main levels, you're practically playing a different game.

Things are mixed up along the way, too. Sometimes you'll have levels that are filled with enemies; other times they'll be complex maps with multiple paths. Other times still you'll have a very tight time limit and have to get through as quickly as possible. Different types of level require different strategies.

Where the truly addictive gameplay in Velocity comes in, though, is medal-chasing. Upon completion of a level, you're ranked according to how many survivors you rescued, how many points you scored and how quickly you successfully completed the level. Attain the highest accolade in all of these categories without dying once and you'll earn a "perfect" medal, and it's chasing these "perfects" that is so ridiculously addictive. The reason for this is that the difficulty of achieving the goals is pitched just perfectly; it's always just tantalisingly out of reach rather than seemingly impossible. Pretty much anyone with a good handle on the mechanics will be able to attain at least a few Perfects along the way, though it does get significantly more difficult as the levels become more complex.

And then there are the secret levels. Secret levels! I can't remember the last modern game I played that had secret levels, and yet here they are in Velocity, unlocked through getting your tiny Quarp Jet into places you wouldn't normally expect it to go, usually as a result of checking the map and spotting something out of place. There are a further 20 secret levels on top of the 50 main levels, and not all of them use the standard game mechanics. There's a 10-level Thrust-inspired minigame, for example; there's a twist on FuturLab's earlier game Coconut Dodge; there's even a version of Snake. Successfully contend with all those and you have the incredibly challenging but rewarding and addictive "Red Zone" and "Blue Zone" levels in which time limits are tight, the pathways tighter and the slightest clipping of a wall will destroy you.

I was delighted that the upcoming Velocity 2X felt so much like the first Velocity when I played it at Eurogamer Expo — and particularly pleased that the brand new sections where you get out of your ship and run around for some platforming sections make use of pretty much the same mechanics, with the only real difference being that you're now affected by gravity. I'm really looking forward to playing the sequel, but in the meantime, I've got a whole bunch of Perfect medals to try and attain, so if you'll excuse me I'm going to challenge a few more before I go to sleep.

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Anyway, enough of that. What I want to talk about today is the PSP.

The PSP came out in 2005, some five years after the launch of the PS2 and a year before the PS3. It failed to make a significant impact in the West upon its original launch and has sometimes been considered one of the problem children of Sony's lineup. There's a degree of justification for that — its reliance on a proprietary physical media format (UMDs); a laudable but ultimately doomed attempt to jump into the "all-digital" future well before the world was ready for it (PSP Go); a distinct lack of prominent marketing — but in the intervening years since its original launch, the PSP has actually become one of my favourite systems.

Perhaps the most impressive thing about it is the fact that after eight years, it's still relevant and doesn't show any sign of going away any time soon — and it has the Vita to thank for that. Vita is the best way to play PSP games due to its lovely OLED screen and its second thumbstick — which, when playing PSP games, can be assigned to emulate buttons, allowing for a fairly convincing fudging of dual-stick control for games that previously only supported a single stick — and as such has, in many cases, given the surprisingly vast PSP library of games a whole new lease of life.

This isn't a case of "it's backward compatible so you can still play old games" either — people are legitimately still making brand new games for the PSP. Just recently we've had Sweet Fuse, for example, and JRPG fans were all aflutter recently when it was announced that Xseed and Carpe Fulgur would be bringing the second part of the magnificent Trails in the Sky to English speakers in the near future.

Access to the entire PSP digital library is, for me, a convincing enough reason in itself to own a Vita — as I noted above, PSP games look and play great on Vita, with the only slight issue being that you can't play physical versions of games due to Vita's lack of a UMD drive. It's also something you can point to any time people complain that Vita has no games — a complaint which is getting more and more inaccurate by the day, incidentally.

So although the PSP is very much one of Sony's more troublesome children, I have to give the company a huge amount of credit for creating a platform that has endured as long as it has. The PSP has some fantastic games, if you've never explored them for yourself, and you might just find yourself discovering some new favourites. And with the impending release of Vita TV — which I'll be very surprised if we don't see in the West — all those of you who don't like playing on handhelds for whatever reason will be able to play these great games on your TV, too. Which sounds pretty great to me.

Now I'm going to go sit in bed and play Sweet Fuse. 

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Sweet Fuse is what's known as an "otome game", you see — in stark contrast to "bishoujo games" that tend to have a male protagonist and a veritable harem of dateable female characters, otome games are the complete opposite: female protagonist, veritable harem of dateable male characters. (There are also yuri variations where the female protagonist can date female characters, much as there are yaoi titles for men, where a male protagonist can date male characters. But let's not get off the point: Sweet Fuse is an otome game in its purest sense.)

I was somewhat intrigued by the prospect of playing Sweet Fuse since although I'm no stranger to playing female characters in games, where romantic options exist I will still generally pair up my heroine with another woman in preference to anything else — my Dragon Age character made a beeline for Leliana, for example, while my LadyHawke in Dragon Age II went for Merrill, as I recall. Sweet Fuse, being an otome game, was going to make me (or rather, my female protagonist) date a male character and like it. And although I'm fairly open-minded about such things, I confess I did feel somewhat skeptical about whether or not I'd feel the same degree of emotional engagement seeing a relationship grow from the opposite way around to how it's usually depicted in this sort of game.

Why shouldn't I, though? In your average dating sim or visual novel, you are not playing as the protagonist; you're along for the ride and making occasional decisions on their behalf. You see stuff unfold and occasionally get frustrated at the protagonist not doing things exactly as you would have done them — but therein lies a sense of dramatic tension. In practice, the only thing that is different between a bishoujo game and an otome game is the fact that the voices are all female in one and all male in the other; and the same for the on-screen portraits of other characters.

That is a reasonably big difference, to be fair, but the fact is that in both cases, you're still watching two people who aren't you get together rather than pretending to get off with some virtual girl/dude from the first person. In that sense, it's not really any different to reading a novel with a love story, or watching a movie with love scenes. So why should playing as a protagonist of the opposite sex who becomes attracted to people who are the same sex as you make you feel weird?

Answer: it doesn't. In the admittedly limited time I've spent following the adventures of Saki Inafune and her six gentlemen friends as they attempt to defuse the bombs a terrorist who is also a pig secreted in her uncle Keiji Inafune's theme park — yes, that is indeed the creator of Mega Man — I've been surprised to find myself feeling much the same as I do when playing a bishoujo game.

Specifically, I've found myself playing "favourites" with the cast of dateable characters. I can't quite pin down if it's due to actually finding them attractive, or simply liking their characters, but I've naturally found myself gravitating towards one of the characters in my first playthrough, much like I would in a typical bishoujo game. (I tend to "go with my gut" for my first playthrough of this type of game, then go back and systematically pursue the remainder of the cast/endings one at a time in order to see everything the game and its stories have to offer.)

It helps that Sweet Fuse has a cast of male characters easily as diverse — possibly more so, even — than your average bishoujo game. There's the cold, stern detective; the young boy band idol; the aggressive, overly-compensating male escort (who reminds me of Kanji from Persona 4 to a distracting degree); the world-weary reporter; the shut-in; and the "mystical guy". The latter, a guy named Urabe, is the one I have my eye on for this first playthrough, but we'll see where it goes.

I'm only on the second "stage" of my first playthrough so far so there's probably quite a way to go yet. There's some interesting mechanics in the game that I'll talk about a bit more on another occasion. In the meantime, if you have the slightest interest in character-centric, story-focused games — and a PSP or Vita — then you could certainly do far worse than check out Sweet Fuse. Full review coming soon over on USgamer.

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So what of Book of Shadows as a whole? Well, I enjoyed it — as much as it is possible to "enjoy" a Corpse Party game, anyway — and, as I noted the other day, I particularly appreciated its unconventional narrative structure. For those who didn't read that post the other day and are too lazy to click on that link, Book of Shadows essentially acts as a collection of "deleted scenes" and alternate endings to the original Corpse Party for the most part, with each chapter focusing on a different group of characters and either exploring "what if?" scenarios if things had gone differently in the original game, or acting as a means of expanding on and exploring the stories of a number of incidental characters who were either already dead by the time the first Corpse Party's story unfolded, or who showed up in the game's "Extra" chapters after you'd finished it.

One of the strengths of the original Corpse Party was how well-realised all of the characters were, and this continues in Book of Shadows, even in the chapters that explore characters other than the main cast of the first game. Each character is an interesting person to spend time with, and the fact the game is structured as more of a visual novel than the original game was means that there's a lot more in the way of narration from each chapter's protagonist than there was in the original. This lets you get inside the head of these characters to a much greater degree than previously, and this, coupled with the again fantastic Japanese voice acting, makes for an experience where you really get a strong sense of who these characters are, what they're like and how they're handling the horrific situation in which they find themselves. And, as I noted in my previous post, there's not usually a happy ending, since by the time the cast of the first Corpse Party arrive at Heavenly Host Elementary School, most of the people they come across are dead.

Once you've worked your way through all the main chapters of Book of Shadows, you unlock a hidden final chapter called Blood Drive. (If you've finished the game and haven't unlocked this, you either need save data from the original Corpse Party on your memory card or to see all of the Wrong Ends from all the previous chapters before it will unlock.)

Blood Drive is the "true" sequel to the original Corpse Party, following on directly from where the previous game left off. Unfortunately, the chapter Blood Drive is but a preview for the game Blood Drive, which is not yet even out in Japan, meaning that the game ends on one hell of a cliffhanger that won't be getting resolved in the immediate future. Still, the amount of "oh NO!" I felt as the credits rolled for the last time is testament to how engaging I found the game as a whole — I liked these characters, enjoyed spending time with them and felt bad for them when they suffered, and I really, really want to see how the story continues (or ends?) in Blood Drive.

Unfortunately, I'll be waiting a while yet. Still, it's not as if I'm short of other things to play right now — not least of which is Idea Factory's Sweet Fuse, which I've been looking forward to for a while.

Sachiko-san, onegaishimasu. Sachiko-san, onegaishimasu. Sachik– shit, how many times was I supposed to chant it again?

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Book of Shadows is much more of a visual novel than its predecessor was — the RPG-style wandering around and pressing X on things is all gone now, to be replaced with either straight-up "read many, many pages of narration and dialogue" or, slightly less frequently, with some first-person perspective wandering and mild point and click adventuring.

The change in gameplay style isn't the most interesting thing about Book of Shadows, though; instead, it's the narrative structure. Rather than telling one continuous story like its predecessor, Book of Shadows is more of a spin-off than a true sequel — at least, as I understand it, anyway, until the final chapter — and instead chooses to spend its time telling self-contained stories that are either prequels to the events of Corpse Party, or "alternate universe" tales that answer a number of hypothetical "what if?" scenarios. For example, one scenario explores what would have happened if a character who died in the original Corpse Party had instead been rescued; another fleshes out one of the original game's "wrong ends" by showing you exactly what unpleasantness happened to a particular character; another still looks at the story of some incidental characters from one of Corpse Party's "extra" scenarios.

The fact that the game is being so experimental and exploratory in its various "short stories" is, in itself, interesting, but an even more intriguing thing about it is that the "correct" ending for each of the chapters is not necessarily a "good" one. Indeed, in many cases, all of the possible outcomes are filled with death, pain and suffering, but only one of them is the "correct" one that allows you to proceed to the next chapter. It's honestly surprising to see something really quite horrible happen to a particular character — even though I was expecting it, given the context — and for the game to then cheerfully announce that I had "cleared" that particular chapter.

This idea of a conclusion to a chapter not necessarily being a happy one is something the first game played with — the "true" ending to the first chapter of the original Corpse Party often has people reaching for the "reload" button the first time they see it — but Book of Shadows really runs with it. It's something that it's interesting to see games experimenting with, since most games still take the "happy ending" as the default, "best" or only option, and it's pretty rare to play something that genuinely ends on a downer. (Of course, I don't know how Book of Shadows as a whole concludes, but I have the distinct impression that at least one or more of the characters will probably not get out unscathed.) There are a few exceptions, of course — Conker's Bad Fur Day being one of the most surprising, best examples I can remember — but for the most part it's still quite rare to come across something deliberately designed to bum you out. (You have achieved a trophy: "Pass the Kleenex." Wait, that sounds wrong.)

Anyway, two more chapters and I can stop freaking myself out with this game — there's a deliciously uncomfortable, oppressive atmosphere about the whole game that makes it quite "hard work" to play, but it's enjoyable in that perverse sort of way good horror is. Next on the agenda, portable-wise, anyway, is Sweet Fuse, aka That Game Where You Play as Keiji Inafune's Niece.

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ZHP, as I will refer to it from now on to save my sanity, is an RPG from Nippon Ichi for PSP (Vita compatible). Its aesthetic and style is strongly reminiscent of NIS' flagship strategy RPG series Disgaea, but it's a very different sort of game — rather than being a turn-based strategy RPG, it's a turn-based sort-of-roguelike in which you control a single character.

The concept of ZHP is pleasingly ridiculous. The Earth's hero, the Unlosing Ranger, is on the way to save the world from villain Darkdeath Evilman when he gets run over. As he dies, he passes on his powers to the silent protagonist you spend the rest of the game playing. You, as the new Unlosing Ranger, are immediately thrown into NES-style turn-based RPG combat against Darkdeath Evilman and are defeated almost as quickly as combat begins. Thus begins a lengthy adventure to "train" yourself how to be a proper hero.

I'm only about 10 hours or so into the game so far so I can't comment with any authority on how the game progresses, but I'm really enjoying it. It's pleasantly portable friendly while at the same time being deep enough to also encourage hefty play sessions if you've got the time or inclination. Despite being turn-based, the dungeon crawling, exploration and combat feels very fast-paced and enjoyable. There's a lot of loot to collect, all of which is reflected on your character's appearance when you equip it, but a lot of it is very temporary — items have very limited durability, and thus become all but useless after a while.

Progression in ZHP is unconventional and bizarre. Unlike a traditional roguelike, there's no permadeath — instead, being defeated in a dungeon tots up all the levels you gained on that particular run and adds them to your "Total Level". This, in turn, provides bonuses to your base statistics, which means that "level 1" the next time you go into a dungeon is a significantly better "level 1" than it was at the start of the game. This progression can be supplemented by inserting various objects into your body, at which point they become "chips" that affect your base statistics. Then there's Hero Energy to direct around, booster items to plug into your chips and all manner of other nonsense. It's unlike anything I've ever seen before, but it seems to work really well.

At the stage I've just got to in the game, I've just unlocked a 60-floor dungeon that is clearly intended for grinding purposes. Given that the maps, enemies and even environments are randomly generated each time you enter, the whole game could have been this enormous dungeon and I'd have been happy, but there's a fun and surprisingly "nice" story running alongside it all too — part of the game's concept is that by running through the dungeons in "Bizarro World" you're helping solve the problems of "real" people back on Earth while simultaneously powering yourself up enough to battle Darkdeath Evilman.

Anyway. If you need a portable RPG — and one that's both toilet- and commute-friendly — then it's well worth a look. Don't let the Disgaea-esque aesthetic put you off if you weren't a fan of that series — ZHP is a very different beast indeed and well worth your time.

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So far, I'm very impressed. Book of Shadows maintains the things that were great about Corpse Party — its dark, mature storyline; its realistically flawed but likeable characters; its unusual but startlingly effective soundtrack; and its incredible, incredible sound design and voice acting — while making a few significant and notable changes.

The most notable change from the previous Corpse Party is that it's no longer a top-down RPG-style affair and has instead become a first-person perspective point and click adventure with lengthy visual novel-style sequences to advance the plot. I'm fine with this, but I was also fine with the top-down nature of the original. I actually really liked the fact that the first Corpse Party had all the trappings of a JRPG — top-down perspective, a menu you pop up with the triangle button, hit points — without any fighting whatsoever. (That said, the PC-98 original version of Corpse Party, of which the PSP version is one of several remakes, concluded with a boss fight.)

Book of Shadows' shift to the first person is an interesting one, because despite the change in perspective and despite the change from tile-based backdrops to hand-drawn environments, it's still recognisable as Heavenly Host Elementary School. The map is the same; the rooms are laid out the same; you're just seeing them from a different perspective. This gives a pleasing degree of consistency to the experience.

The concept is peculiar but kind of neat, too. One of the "wrong ends" of the original Corpse Party saw the band of unfortunate teens travel back in time after successfully reversing the charm that had got them into the school in the first place, only to find themselves repeating the same events exactly as they were before — thereby dooming themselves to the same fate. Book of Shadows runs with the idea that the characters being aware of this "time loop" might see them try to cheat their fate, and the first chapter at least explores what happens if a particular tragedy that occurred early in the first game was averted. In doing so, we get a chance to spend a lot more time with characters who didn't get a great deal of screen time in the original game (because they were the first to be unpleasantly murdered) and gain a greater understanding of both them and their relationships with others in the process.

I'm digging it so far. The palpable sense of menace of the original is very much intact in this new game, as is the wince-inducing violence — though as with the previous game, Book of Shadows has a wonderful understanding of the concept of "less is more" when it comes to horror. The most effective scares come from the imagination rather than gory scenes on the screen — and while Book of Shadows, like its predecessor, certainly isn't afraid to show the aftermath of a violent event, the actual instance of something unpleasant happening tends to be depicted through nothing more than text and sound.

Book of Shadows deserves particularly special mention for its sound. The original Corpse Party made magnificent use of fake 3D effects in the stereo field to make it sound like people were whispering in your ear, standing behind you and all manner of other things. Book of Shadows continues this and somehow manages to be even more effective. In an early scene, for example, you're playing the role of the character Naomi, who finds herself in bed with her possibly-a-lesbian best friend Seiko, who is over for a sleepover. When the lights go out and Seiko falls asleep, you can hear her soft breathing and occasional murmuring to herself in your left ear while Naomi ponders things to herself; when Seiko is roused by Naomi's mumbling, her voice sounds like she's lying right next to you. It's unnerving in its realism, but startlingly effective for immersing you in the game world and story.

I'm partway through the second chapter of Book of Shadows so far. I'm enjoying the "what if?" nature of these chapters, but what I'm really looking forward to is the not-so-secret final chapter that actually acts as a sequel of sorts to the original story. I'm intrigued to see where the story goes, and despite the fact it's such a consistently unpleasant, depressing series, I really hope we see more in the future.

The post 1296: Repeated Fear appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I decided to start something on portable in parallel, though, so I had something to play on the toilet/in bed/in coffee shops. I wanted to pick something that was portable-friendly — i.e. something you could dip into in short sessions rather than feeling like you need to spend hours at a time playing, but which would last a good long while in total. The game I picked for this purpose was the rather gloriously-titled Z.H.P. Unlosing Ranger vs. Darkdeath Evilman for the PSP/Vita, a game from the Disgaea team and one which wears its influences on its sleeve.

Z.H.P. (as it shall be known from hereon) is an isometric-perspective tactical roguelike RPG that plays somewhat like Disgaea (which is normally a strategy game somewhat akin to Final Fantasy Tactics, if you're unfamiliar) would play if you only controlled one character and could only move them one space at a time per turn. It follows the traditional style of roguelike gameplay, in other words — you move, the enemies move, but between moves you can stand still and contemplate what to do next without fear of getting twatted while you come to your decision. As per usual for the genre, you find yourself exploring a series of increasingly-difficult, increasingly-complex randomly-generated dungeons in an attempt to become as strong as possible and eventually take down the titular bad guy Darkdeath Evilman.

There's a bit of a twist on the usual formula, though. Rather than featuring a permadeath system that forces you to start over when you bite the big one in a dungeon, Z.H.P. instead features a rather odd levelling system whereby each time you enter a dungeon, you start at level 1, but your total levels gained over your lifetime playing the game determines your base statistics. If you die, you lose all the loot you acquired on that particular dungeon run, but any levels you gained are added on to your total level count, boosting your base statistics by a little and meaning that the next time you start a dungeon run, you'll be slightly stronger even though you're still technically level 1. If that makes your head hurt, don't worry — it starts to make sense after playing for only a short period.

The eventual aim of the game is to work your way through the story and make the nameless, voiceless protagonist (who, rather endearingly, is canonically named simply Main Character) into the hero he was supposed to replace — the Unlosing Ranger, the only one who can defeat Darkdeath Evilman. Every so often in the story, you'll find yourself returning to Earth from the Bizarro Earth in which you've been doing all your dungeon-crawling, and thrust into a traditional JRPG-style battle against Darkdeath Evilman, who is your stereotypical "final boss" sort of character. As the game progresses, these battle sequences become increasingly elaborate — they start with a first-person 8-bit sequence somewhat reminiscent of the end of the original Phantasy Star and gradually progress to… well, I'm not sure yet as I haven't got that far.

There are some fun additions to the basic roguelike formula, and it's here that the Disgaea influences are apparent. You can pick up enemies and fling them around, for example, though disappointingly you can't simply lob them off the edge of a precarious platform into the lava below. You can also throw items from your inventory, many of which have special effects. It also provides a use for items that have degraded to a durability level of 0%, meaning that the bonuses they normally provide are completely ineffective until repaired. If you don't want to spend your limited funds on repair bills, simply throw them at the enemies.

Then there's the guest appearances from the Prinnies, the weird explosive penguin-like things from Disgaea. Early in the game, you inexplicably find yourself married to one and gain the once-per-expedition special ability to summon your "wife" and have her bring you a lunchbox to restore your endurance points.

I could go on, but I would like to play the game a bit more before I talk about it too much. Early impressions are very positive, though, and if it's anything like Disgaea this will be a game designed to keep one occupied for a frighteningly long time. If you're looking for something endearingly bizarre but which backs up that bizarreness with solid gameplay and good presentation, you could do far worse than check out Z.H.P. — it works on Vita, too, so you can just download it from the PSN store rather than attempting to track down a physical copy.

See you in the dungeon, dood!

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After a bit of a break to play some other stuff, mainly Persona 3: FES, I am back on my Vita and proceeding nicely with Trails in the Sky.

Trails in the Sky, for those who missed the earlier post I made about it, is a role-playing game for the PSP and Vita from Falcom. It also happens to be one of the best role-playing games I've played in recent memory, for a diverse array of reasons, some of which I've already talked about and others of which I will touch on today.

Plot-wise, Trails in the Sky isn't your conventional JRPG. I'm over 30 hours in now and there's been no trace of any villain wanting to take over the world, call down a meteor, kompress time [sic],  sit inside a mountain going "MWAHAHAHAHA" or indeed any of the other things that JRPG villains typically want to do. In fact, I'd be hard-pushed to identify a single "villain" as yet — there have been villainous groups and individuals, sure, but not a single character that I'd particularly identify as a specific "antagonist". No-one with silvery-white hair flowing down their back; no-one with a good line in evil laughs; no "evil empire" to fight back against. The closest we've had is a few men clad in black, and they're clearly working for someone.

While this may cause you to worry about the game being directionless — what's an epic RPG without an antagonist taunting you throughout making that final boss smackdown all the more satisfying? — in actual fact the opposite is true. The focus may be different, but there's most definitely a plot with direction and good pace going on here.

The focus in this case is the relationship between the two lead characters Estelle and Joshua, foster siblings and a classic case of a "will they, won't they" relationship that will undoubtedly come to smooches by the end of the game's 50-hour quest. The main thrust of the game's story is the pair's journey around the game world, training their abilities and learning more about themselves, each other and the way they feel about one another. Third and fourth party members come and go, but Estelle and Joshua are permanent fixtures, with the player taking direct control of Estelle for the vast majority of the game.

Estelle is a great lead character, largely because she's not a traditional female protagonist. She may be pretty cute visually — as a redhead/brunette with twintails, she's seemingly designed to appeal specifically to me — but personality-wise, she's certainly far from demure, cute or helpless. She's spunky, loud, opinionated, brash, sarcastic and quick to anger. At the same time, she doesn't deny her feminine side to herself — even if she seemingly tries to hide it when others are around. There are a number of scenes, particularly late in the game, where she tries to come to terms with her own feelings towards Joshua that give us some interesting insight into what she's really thinking behind her slightly-abrasive facade.

The side-effect of Estelle's somewhat tomboyish nature when she's around other people is that said other people tend not to treat her in a particularly "girlish" manner, often deriding her for not particularly conforming to gender stereotypes and acting in a "mannish" or "boyish" manner. She takes it in her stride throughout, often swiping such comments aside with a sarcastic rebuttal or two of her own, and you get the impression that she is someone who is thoroughly comfortable in who she is — or at least comfortable with the "public face" she shows to people. Despite her self-assuredness, though, a sure-fire way to make Estelle skittish and nervous is to bring up the possibility of her getting together with Joshua, which in many cases makes her literally want to run away or furiously deny any such accusations, even if it's blatantly obvious that she's thought about it more than once in her life.

I'm looking forward to seeing the game through to its conclusion. It's structured very nicely in that you always feel like you're doing something, and grinding has been absolutely non-existent so far. Wandering monsters provide relatively trivial amounts of experience points, and are primarily used to acquire the "Sepith" gems used to craft new special ability items called Orbments, and if you're that way inclined, you can race through most of the game without stopping to have random encounters at all if you don't want to — though you may find yourself struggling to acquire better spells if you do so.

In short, it's nice to play a JRPG that focuses on the good things about the genre — exploration, discovery, questing, character development and narrative — and doesn't force players to live with frustrating and outdated conventions like grinding. If you're an RPG fan toting a PSP or Vita, you should consider Trails in the Sky an essential purchase, as it is a fine example of how the genre is alive, well and more than happy to not follow the traditional Final Fantasy "OMG WORLD IS ENDING" route. (That's not to say that doesn't have a place, of course — I still love saving the world, but I'm well aware many others are sick of it.)

Check out the official website to find out more — and I believe there's a sequel inbound at some point in the near future, too.

The post 1075: Those Trails in the Sky Get Longer appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

But even though I know these criticisms are valid and warranted, it still bugs me a little that this means people are quickly writing off the Vita as a no-hoper, as a stillborn, with some even going so far as to compare it to disastrous past industry efforts such as Nintendo's dreadful Virtual Boy. That's just ridiculous.

Fact is, the Vita is a wonderful piece of kit. For your money, you get a gorgeous shiny gadget with a deliciously bright, big, high-resolution LED screen, two not-very-good-but-functional cameras (front and back) and not one but two touch-sensitive surfaces (again, front and back). Games specifically designed for Vita look beautiful on that big shiny screen, and the system runs downloadable PSP titles perfectly — though the lack of UMD drive means that those who have an extensive collection of physical PSP games will either need to keep their old handheld around or re-purchase their games as downloadable versions.

The PSP support is an aspect of the Vita that I can't help but feel is understated. I know, I know, you could buy a used PSP for a fraction of the price of a new Vita, but how great the games look on that LED screen shouldn't be underestimated — plus with the latest system firmware, it's possible to apply bilinear filtering to the games to smooth out edges without making them look overly-blurry, and assign the Vita's right stick and touchscreen to various functions. You'd be surprised quite how much more comfortable it is using the right stick to move the camera in games that previously used the shoulder buttons for this purpose — the PSP, let's not forget, didn't have a right stick and had that peculiar and uncomfortable "nub" instead of an actual stick on the left.

The other aspect of that PSP compatibility is that it makes the old "Vita has no games" argument sort of invalid — because not only do you have a healthy selection of largely good-quality Vita titles to draw on, you also have a huge selection of downloadable PSP titles to work your way through, too. If you're a JRPG or SRPG fan in particular, the Vita is a fantastic system. The first three Persona games; Trails in the Sky; all the Final Fantasy games up to IX plus spinoffs Final Fantasy Tactics and Dissidia Final Fantasy; Tactics Ogre; the list goes on. (It goes on longer if you're American, because you also have titles like Growlanser and Gungnir to enjoy, too. Damn you, Atlus, for not having a European arm.)

As for the actual Vita games themselves, there are some real gems there. Everybody's Golf/Hot Shots Golf is fantastic fun, and packed with content. Gravity Rush is a beautiful, stylish, challenging game that makes good use of the Vita's accelerometers alongside a more traditional control scheme. The Vita version of Need for Speed Most Wanted is a very good one, ideal for a quick race on the go. Lumines Electronic Symphony is a fantastic puzzle game — though not very toilet-friendly, as sessions tend to go on for quite a while. LittleBigPlanet is an ideal fit for the Vita's interface and touchscreen. And then there are a bunch of cheaper download-only games that are also fantastic — the strange and abstract world of Sound Shapes; the John Cleese-voiced, Unreal Engine-powered brain training of Smart As…; the freebies like that ecosystem game I've forgotten the name of and hilarious pass-and-play party game Frobisher Says.

And then you have PlayStation Minis, which is home to some surprisingly brilliant games — Velocity by FuturLab being one in particular you should really check out. And then there's the newly-added support for PlayStation Mobile, which offers super-cheap ports of some of the best iOS and Android games out there.

Need I go on? Yes, the cost of entry may be higher than a 3DS or a PSP, but the Vita is packed with a ton of possibilities that people just aren't talking about enough. "The story" about the Vita always seems to be that it's "Sony's big failure" — and while that may end up being true, it'd be nice to see, just once, a feature in the professional press detailing the many things this system does wonderfully well rather than yet another predictable article heralding its apparently-imminent doom.  We've all seen this article many times over — so how about ditching the negativity for a bit and exploring the many good things the system does offer so those of us who do have one can unearth some of the platform's hidden gems — because they're out there.

If you happened to get a Vita (or PS3, for that matter) for Christmas, do feel free to add "Angry_Jedi" to your PSN friends list!

The post 1074: Loving the Vita appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

[Aside: This is the one-thousandth post on this blog. Hooray! Another 58 days until I've completed a thousand days of 

My current gaming "jam", as I believe the kids are saying nowadays, is Legend of Heroes: Trails in the Sky, just Trails in the Sky or its immensely entertaining acronym TitS for short. It's a Vita-compatible PSP game from Falcom, published by Xseed in the States and Ghostlight in the UK, and it was originally available for Windows PCs in Japan, though in the West I believe we've only seen the PSP release.

It's good. Real good. And, like recent RPGs that I've had a particular blast with — Xenoblade Chronicles, The Last Story, Pandora's Tower — it is good due to its willingness to dispense with the conventions of the JRPG genre and to incorporate good ideas from both Western RPGs and the more specialist strategy/tactical RPG subgenre. This exhibits itself in two main ways: its battle system and its game structure.

Battles in Trails in the Sky are a slightly more involved affair than your stereotypical "line up in front of each other and take it in turns to slap one another" JRPG combat system. Instead, battles take place on a grid, and characters have to actually move around as well as use their skills. Certain skills can affect areas, too, meaning that positioning is more than just a gimmick. This system is combined with a mechanic similar to the "Conditional Turn-Based Battle" system seen in Final Fantasy X, whereby the turn order for the next few rounds is displayed at the side of the screen and can be affected by various factors.

The game's "Craft" special ability system also allows player characters to "jump the queue" in the turn order at times if their "Craft Points" bar is full, allowing the player to manipulate the turn order to their advantage. This is an important aspect to gameplay, as certain turns are marked with symbols that denote various bonuses to the active character — a guaranteed critical hit, increased damage, a small amount of healing.

Structurally, the game is somewhere between a traditional JRPG and a more freeform Western title. The game's main plot is rigidly linear and leads the party through various locales which then become their "base" for a while. But while they are there, they have the opportunity to take on a bunch of optional quests which range from defeating tough monsters to delivering packages or locating ingredients. They're generally pretty simple stuff, but each is bookended by a short story sequence for context, giving the player a greater feeling of immersion in the game world by allowing them to get to know some of the incidental characters a bit better. It also makes the game feel less linear, as these optional quests can be tackled in any order — though some will expire if too much progress is made on the main plot before completing them.

There's another reason to do these quests: they're one of the few ways to make money. Rather than monsters inexplicably dropping fountains of gold when they expire, they instead drop crystals that can be used to synthesise new special abilities at a special location in towns, or sold for a profit. Questing is a much more reliable source of income, however, as it's better to save up the crystals for upgrading characters.

Mechanically, then, Trails in the Sky is interesting if not quite "revolutionary" — it's certainly enjoyable to play. But the highlight for me so far has been the excellent localisation. Characters are well-defined and have a strong sense of personality even though there's no speech or any real animation. Through a simple combination of well-written text and mood portraits, you get a real feel for who these people are and how they relate to one another. Particular praise should be given to the interplay between the two main protagonists Estelle and Joshua, who have clearly been set up to have a ridiculous amount of sexual tension between them for the duration of the game despite being polar opposites in terms of personality. It's also surprising to see an openly bisexual character making an appearance, though he is treated somewhat less than respectfully by Estelle, as she refers to him as a "pervert" within minutes of finding out about his preferences. (To be fair to her, though, he kind of is a bit of a pervert, though not because of his sexuality. His stalkerish lusting after Joshua seconds after meeting him for the first time is a bit creepy.)

I'm only about 10 hours in to the game so far but it claims to be about 50 hours in total. That's a decent size for a handheld RPG — hell, it's a decent size for an RPG generally. Any more than that and it can become a bit of a slog. I hope the excellent characterisation and fun battles continue throughout, as it's been a blast so far — so if you have a PSP or Vita and are looking for some top-quality questing, give it a shot.

The post #oneaday Day 942: Trails in the Sky appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I bought a PlayStation Vita today. I'd had my eye on one for a little while, but having successfully paid off my credit card for the purchase of my new Mac, I decided a little treat was in order, so I did a bit of research as to what the fine folks of the Internet thought was good games-wise, and grabbed one today. I was fortunate enough to be able to snare a preowned but unused model from Game in Southampton today, which cut down the price considerably, allowing me to also grab an (overpriced) 32GB memory card along with a copy of Everybody's Golf to enjoy for about £270 in total.

I've only spent one round with the latter so far (but it's bringing back pleasing memories of Tee Off on the Dreamcast) so I won't comment on that too much, but I did want to talk a little bit about the system itself, as I believe it's worthy of note.

The Vita distinguishes itself from its predecessor the PSP immediately with its touchscreen-friendly interface. Featuring an icon-based homescreen somewhat akin to modern smartphones, the Vita invites you to touch, swipe, flick, peel and all manner of other things. You can reorganise your homescreen icons as you see fit, and even set backgrounds for different pages. You can't organise things into folders, though, which is a bit of a shame, but I can cope with that. PlayStation Network (sorry… Sony Entertainment Network, which still amuses me because its abbreviation is the same as Special Educational Needs) provides plenty of downloadable goodness, ranging from complete games that you could also buy as physical products at retail to smaller, cheaper, download-only titles and even free apps for access to Twitter, Facebook, Skype and Flickr.

The downloadable side of things has, for me, always been a big strength of Sony's systems from the PSP onwards. The PlayStation Store is a veritable treasure trove of underappreciated and overlooked gems as well as some of the most memorable "art games" (for want of a better term) in the business — games like Flower and Journey, for example. PlayStation Minis, too, provide portable-friendly experiences akin to what you might play on a smartphone, only with dedicated controls to enjoy them with, which is a big boon to anyone sick of poorly-implemented touch controls.

Besides the games themselves, though, Vita has a number of interesting and intriguingly noteworthy features. For starters, the system actually does multitasking considerably better than both iOS and Android. A tap of the PlayStation button freezes whatever you're doing and takes you immediately back to the "OS". From here, you can "peel" the app off the screen to close it completely, switch to something else (like, say, the settings app, or Twitter) and then be back into your game without any messing around. This is particularly beneficial when you want to browse the PlayStation Store for addon content, for example — even the PS3 requires a quit out of a running game to access the Store, whereas Vita manages to seamlessly switch to it, let you browse as you see fit, then switch back. This functionality also allows you to effectively do what the Steam Overlay does for PC gamers — while running a game, you can pop open a browser window and, let's face it, look at GameFAQs.

Vita's interface is gorgeous, too. The big, high-resolution LED screen makes things look great anyway, but the design of the OS just begs to be played with, too. On the homescreen, flicking between screens causes the icons to wobble like they're hanging on pegs. Rather than "slide to unlock" if the machine goes into standby, you use the same "peel" motion that is used for closing apps. And the soft keyboard is pretty good, too, with a decent predictive text dictionary built in — though the size of the screen and its position means that "thumb typing" as on a smartphone is next to impossible. Fortunately, as the Vita is primarily a gaming platform, you won't be doing that much typing on it, so it's a design flaw I can forgive.

The built-in apps are interesting, too. Near allows you to see other Vita owners in your nearby vicinity, see what they've been playing and their responses to them. (I was surprised to see quite a few Vita owners living near me — I was expecting it to be a virtual ghost town around here.) Welcome Park introduces the system's little quirks — the multitouch screen, the rear touchpanel, the two cameras and the built-in microphone — through a series of simple but surprisingly engaging minigames, all of which have Trophy support for those who care that much. There's also a pleasing number of free downloads from the PlayStation Store, including a selection of social apps, a simple finger-painting app and even some games, including the hilarious and WarioWare-esque Frobisher Says.

All in all, I'm very pleased with my purchase so far. I've become somewhat disillusioned with iOS gaming recently — perhaps due to the fact I get to see some of the very best and worst titles as part of my day job — so I've been surprised how good it feels to have a dedicated handheld system again, particularly one that doesn't possess an app ecosystem that encourages developers to include "Get More Coins!!" options even where they're not wanted/needed. I shall look forward to many Everybody's Golf sessions on the toilet in the near future as well as a thorough exploration of the myriad joys the PlayStation Store has to offer me.

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I'm glad this game exists. It's a pleasing piece of evidence to point to when people start talking about subject matter which would "never get greenlit by a publisher". It exists. It was greenlit by someone. It's freely available to download to your PSP or Vita via PSN. It's horrific. And it's brilliant.

Corpse Party tells the story of a hapless group of schoolkids who botch an attempt to commune with the spirit world and find themselves trapped in a long-abandoned elementary school populated with rather unfriendly ghosts. It's then up to the player to help the group (who quickly become separated in true horror movie fashion) to understand the truth behind what's going on and return them to safety. It all gets very Japanese horror very quickly — if you've seen anything like Ju-on: The Grudge or played Fatal Frame you'll know the sort of thing to expect.

Unfolding like a cross between a visual novel and a top-down 16-bit RPG, Corpse Party manages to keep the player feeling involved in the action while keeping the story flowing at a good pace. Oftentimes the player's only contribution between important events will be moving the current player character (for there are several) to a new location, but that simple act, along with the ability to examine items in the environment such as creepy notices on the walls and corpses of previous unwitting visitors to Heavenly Host Elementary School, makes the game feel far more interactive than many visual novel titles, which typically involve tapping the "continue" button lots of times. There's plenty of that, too, sure, but mild exploration and puzzle elements make this feel much more like a "game" to those who care about that sort of thing.

It's worth noting at this point that far from taking the relatively "straight line to the finish" approach that many visual novels take, Corpse Party gets increasingly easy to balls up completely as you proceed. Rather than simply immediately ending with a "Game Over" screen for making a bad choice, however, sometimes the butterfly effect of actions you take doesn't become apparent until an hour or two later. This is a double-edged sword; it turns "making a mistake" into an "alternative ending", even going so far as to credit the player with this ending in the menu screens, but it also means having to replay previous events, figure out what you did wrong and then do something differently. And God help you if you didn't make full use of the five available save slots per chapter. Fortunately, though, each of the game's five chapters is relatively short, with the final one being the longest at around three hours, meaning that replaying a whole chapter is not as much of a chore as it could be — though the game could really do with that mainstay of traditional visual novel interfaces: the "skip" button.

While it's relatively easy to get on to a "bad ending" path, particularly later in the game, this actually isn't something to get too frustrated about, for some of the most intense, morbidly fascinating and emotional scenes come about as a result of these "Wrong Ends", as the game calls them. Sometimes these are subtle changes to events in the supposed "true" ending for each chapter that mean hope turns to tragedy. Sometimes these endings result in horrible deaths for one of more of the main characters. Sometimes they result in revelations about the characters that you wouldn't find out about otherwise. Pretty much all bar a couple of "you were caught by a Bad Thing, you die" incidents are worthwhile and substantial narrative events in their own right, making discovering all of the story's possible endings — good and bad — something of a metagame in itself.

The game's story and the emotional power behind it is helped by a fantastic translation from the Japanese coupled with some truly excellent, emotionally charged Japanese-language voice acting. Even if you don't speak Japanese, you'll want to let the fully-voiced dialogue run its course, as it's packed with convincing expressions of emotion. (Oh, and you'll want to wear headphones while playing. The game features some of the most unsettling use of stereo effects I've ever encountered, along with a kickass soundtrack.) Characters laugh, cry, scream in terror and generally act in an incredibly realistic manner given the situation they find themselves in. Certain incidents which occur also show that being in a horrific, seemingly inescapable situation doesn't make the cast immune to things like your body letting you down at the worst possible moment, or your own feelings towards another person. Despite its supernatural core, Corpse Party's tale is a very human one, examining the relationships between all the members of its main cast and leaving the player feeling like they know most of them very well by the end of the story.

But that doesn't mean that the horror side of things is toned down. Far from it. Despite its retro-style presentation, this is likely one of the most disturbing, unsettling games you'll ever play. It doesn't hold back. This game puts its characters through some of the most unimaginable suffering possible in the name of evoking an emotional response from players, and it's all the better for it. Story is conflict, and through conflict people grow and change — sometimes for the better, sometimes worse. The fact that the characters are children drives home the fact that tragedy can happen to anyone, and the way in which we react to horrific situations can make a big difference to what happens to us next. It's a powerful tale, for sure, and even the most strong-stomached will struggle not to wince at some of the acts described throughout the course of the game's narrative.

Note that I say "described" and not "seen", for Corpse Party understands that most fundamental tenet of horror — the most terrifying things are not the most spectacularly gory things presented to the viewer on a plate, but the things in their imagination. As such, many of the game's strongest, most disturbing scenes are depicted entirely through text, colour flashes and sound effects. The understated manner in which various unpleasant incidents are coolly relayed to the player makes them all the more powerful, for it's at these moments that the imagination comes into play, filling in the blanks about what is not described as much as picturing what is described. It's a potent demonstration of the huge difference that having people who know what they are doing work on a game's script makes.

Corpse Party isn't a long game, and it won't take you long to beat all five chapters. There's plenty of incentive to replay, though, including discovering all the possible endings — good and bad — as well as a series of smaller "extra chapters" that fill in other events which are occurring alongside the main plot. There's also a bunch of student ID tags to collect throughout the course of the game, providing details on previous visitors to Heavenly Host who weren't so lucky, including how they died. It's a diverting little side mission which is integrated nicely into the theme of the game rather than feeling like a gratuitous addition. Since the PSP doesn't have a Trophy system, it's clear that these tags haven't just been added to fill out the Trophy list; they're instead present to provide context and atmosphere to an already creepy and impactful game.

So should you play Corpse Party? If you're a fan of story-based games and Japanese horror, then yes, you most certainly should. There's more than enough content to get your £11.99 worth in this game, and despite a couple of niggling flaws (the lack of a "skip" button when replaying scenes being the most disappointing oversight) it's a memorable, emotional experience that will stay with you long after it's finished.

The post #oneaday Day 778: Corpse Party: A (Spoiler-Free) Scoreless Review appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Looking for something terrifying? Own a PSP? Then quit whatever you're doing and go download Corpse Party from PSN for a very reasonable £11.99.

I've mentioned this briefly a couple of times over the last few days but it's worthy of some more in-depth enthusing, so here goes.

Corpse Party is a horror adventure game that uses a combination of Chrono Trigger-style top-down visuals and beautifully-drawn anime-style stills to tell its tale. And what a gruesome, horrifying tale it is.

Following a botched attempt to cast a friendship charm as one of a group of friends is set to leave her school, eight Japanese high schoolers and their teacher find themselves trapped in an unpleasant situation: a ruined, abandoned, creepy old school that is not their own, populated by malevolent ghosts and a wide variety of mutilated dead bodies — obviously previous victims of whatever curse brought them there. It's up to the player to get to the bottom of what's going on, and attempt to get the kids home. I haven't finished it yet, so I don't know if they're successful.

Corpse Party initially puts across the impression of being just another light-hearted anime adventure. But things quickly take a turn for the dark as the corpses start piling up and the numerous mysteries surrounding the ruined school start to reveal themselves. Gameplay is limited to wandering around, exploring and making occasional choices, so the game is perhaps best compared to a visual novel rather than an adventure game or survival horror, but it manages to be one of the most affecting, evocative games I've ever played using the bare minimum of tricks and gimmicks.

It achieves this in a variety of ways. First up is the excellent writing and localisation. Not only is the tale told one filled with unexpected twists and turns, but it's also one populated with believable, "human" characters who are far from being "video game heroic". They're kids. They talk like kids, they swear like kids, they make inappropriate comments like kids and they react like kids would in horrific situations like the ones in the game — by screaming, crying and running away.

The game doesn't hold back in its writing, preferring instead to depict its characters' behaviour in a realistic manner rather than the sanitised view of life we get in many other video games. For example, in one flashback scene depicting one of the characters' lives before the events of the game, we see a big sister (one of the main cast) and her little brother in the bathroom together. Both are nude. Big sister, who is somewhat outspoken and borderline brash at times, teases her little brother for being ashamed of his nakedness and hiding his penis from her, tackles him to the ground and tickles him, behaving as siblings do. There's no inappropriate eroticism in the scene despite the characters' nudity, just a believable depiction of two very "human" characters enjoying a mundane moment together.

A lot of the power of Corpse Party's writing comes from this clash between the mundane and the uncanny. Chapters will often open with a flashback of the "good old days" before the botched charm made everything go wrong for these kids, and it makes the anguish and terror they go through all the more profoundly affecting having seen what they're like in situations that they're comfortable with.

The writing is wonderfully descriptive without being overly explicit, either. Some of the most toe-curling, unpleasant scenes in the game come from a blank screen accompanied only by text and minimal sound effects. And yet somehow the manage to be far more horrific than anything I've seen on a next-gen console. The imagination is truly a powerful thing.

Imagination is all very well, but it can be helped along in a few ways. Firstly, there's the visual side of things, which is kept relatively simple for the most part — old-school pixel art RPG-style graphics punctuated with occasional hand-drawn closeups to emphasise particular scenes.

Star of the show is the game's sound design, though. Best experienced on headphones, Corpse Party's soundtrack combines a variety of atmospheric, dramatic and memorable musical themes with subtle use of sound effects and some truly fantastic Japanese-language voice acting. The delivery is packed with emotion, making the kids' screams of terror all the more harrowing as you find yourself really believing what's going on. And the use of stereo makes for an impressively unnerving experience.

While some may object to a game which features quite so much violence against children, I for one have so far found the mature treatment of the player to be refreshing. The game doesn't pull any punches at any point, meaning that you're just as likely to meet an agonising and drawn-out demise when playing as a little girl as you are when playing the "tough" guy. Far from feeling "wrong", however, the knowledge that the game's characters are in very real danger throughout provides a strong emotional impetus for the player to get to the bottom of what's going on and try to save them.

The only criticism of the game I have is the fact that if you find yourself down one of the "bad ending" paths and meeting a sticky end, you can sometimes lose a bit of progress if you haven't been saving fastidiously at the game's sparsely-scattered save points. With no means to quickly skip through scenes you've already seen once, this can be a little frustrating for the impatient (or those who can't work out what they're doing wrong — though it's usually obvious).

This little issue far from ruins the experience, however. In fact, those who want to "100%" the game will actually need to see all of these unpleasant endings as well as the "proper" ends to each of the game's five chapters, meaning that an unpleasant death for one of the cast isn't necessarily wasted play time.

Above all, Corpse Party is a rewarding, affecting, remarkable experience that treats the player as an adult throughout. It's refreshing to play through something which doesn't feel sanitised or dumbed down in the slightest, and I'm both surprised and delighted that a game like this made it on to the Western PSN store.

I'm certainly not complaining, though. In fact, I'd like to see a lot more titles like this in the future.

The post #oneaday Day 775: Having a Corpse Party appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

The astute among you who follow my gaming posts (which, yes, I'm aware constitute an overwhelming majority of these entries — I am a passionate gaming enthusiast and an occasionally-professional games writer, after all) will be well aware of the fact that over the last few years, I've been drifting further and further away from the "mainstream" in terms of the titles I've been playing. This initially wasn't a particularly conscious decision, but rather a reaction to the fact that I just wasn't enjoying myself with the supposedly "big" titles of the day. I haven't made it through any Halo games except the original and Reach, for example, and my few forays into Call of Duty have left me feeling by turns underwhelmed and insulted. Similarly, I've given up all hope of ever making it through the Assassin's Creed series since it seems as soon as I think about playing through the older titles, Ubisoft goes and announces another one. You know, like they did today. Bastards.

I can't quite pin down exactly when this shift in attitudes happened, but I do know that I've come across some truly remarkable games in the process. One of the most memorable of these is Recettear: An Item Shop's Tale, which I picked up as part of one of Steam's characteristically generous Indie packs during one of the service's many sales, and promptly played all the way through for 40 hours. This was something of a difference from my expectation, which was that the game would be a shallow, social game-style experience with little depth and no long-term appeal. How pleasantly surprised I was when it turned out to be quite the opposite — deep, fun, well-written (kudos to Carpe Fulgur's wonderful translation efforts — we're talking PS1-era Working Designs-quality work here) and immensely satisfying to play. And not an Achievement in sight, either.

The attitude that I've decided to take as a result of discovering brilliant titles like Recettear and numerous others like it a little way off the "beaten path" is to simply say "fuck it" to the mainstream, and explore the things that I'm interested in, rather than the titles which the media makes it seem you're "supposed" to be interested in. It's been a very long time since I consulted a review prior to purchasing a new game, instead relying on a combination of word-of-mouth, intuition and simple, immediate, visceral reactions to screenshots, descriptions and other media.

This philosophy has also been born from the original ideals of the Squadron of Shame way back in the 1up days. Our original remit as a group was as follows, and I quote directly from the original 1up club page, which still stands today:

Games of Shame. You know you have them. They sit in your closet, collecting dust: Little jewels that you always tell yourself you are going to play, but never get around to. Well, that's about to change, soldier. You've been drafted to join the Squadron of Shame. Here we, the elite members of the 1UP Radio boards, paratroop into the bargain bins and rescue the unappreciated games that deserve to be saved. From there we battle through the trenches as a squad. At the end of the day, we take a moment to break down what made the whole experience worth fighting for by sharing war stories, reflections, and cigars. But the fight isn't just on the front of retro games: Any game deemed "fit for duty" by command can be put on the pile. At the end of the day, the reason we fight isn't just to discover new experiences, it's to answer that simple and fundamental question: "Why do we play?" Now suit up. The pile awaits.

I've pretty much stuck by those ideals as the years have gone by, always preferring to check out things that are outside of the mainstream, far from the things that everyone is talking about. I can't help but feel you can have too much of a good thing in terms of game coverage, and this is a problem which is only compounded by the explosive growth social media has enjoyed over the last few years. By the time a big-name game comes out, there are very few surprises left due to the constant PR trickle of new screens, exclusive reveals, teaser trailers, live-action videos, behind-the-scenes developer diary videos, blog posts, interviews, features, podcasts, multiplayer betas and all manner of other things besides. And when the game does come out, everyone is talking about it on Twitter and Facebook, putting you at serious risk of spoilers — or at the very least, of a feeling of "saturation".

So rather than bitch and moan about the state of the mainstream, the iron-fist rule of unscrupulous PR agencies and publishers destroying interesting, outlet-unique coverage and games that I have little interest in playing, I'm simply going to ignore stuff that doesn't interest me and focus on things which sound intriguing. (I'm aware that this post may well constitute bitching and moaning about the state of the &c &c but… but… FUCK YOU, that's what. WAIT I DIDN'T MEAN IT, COME BACK, I STILL LOVE Y—)

And, subsequently, I'll cover them myself, right here. I may be late to the party on some titles, but in many cases, things don't stop being relevant just because of their age, particularly with the number of HD remasters, portable remakes and backward-compatible devices we've seen recently. Providing these games with a little exposure here — "little" being the operative word, since I'm well aware of the relatively miniscule amount of traffic this blog generates, and am perfectly happy with that fact — will make me feel better, because then I then know that there's someone out there (me) appreciating and giving some much-needed attention to titles which maybe don't have a massive marketing budget or an omnipotent PR organisation managing and coordinating all their coverage. And, as small as my audience here is, if I write something, then there will be people reading about these titles, too. And if just a few of those people think "hmm, that does sound interesting" then I can feel like I've done a good job somewhere along the line.

So if I blog about something which sounds interesting and you decide to check it out for yourself, be sure to let me know. I'd love to hear your reactions to titles such as Katawa Shoujo, To The Moon, Recettear, Xenoblade Chronicles, The Last Story and numerous others. Over the course of the next few days/weeks/months, I'm intending to catch up on a variety of PSP titles, starting with Corpse Party and following with the portable Persona remakes. So watch out for those entries soon, and be sure to let me know your thoughts on those games if you've also sampled their charms.

And if you're excited for Mass Effect 3, Assassin's Creed III or, God forbid, the rumoured Call of Duty: Black Ops 2, then don't let me stop you being excited — I'd actually love to hear about those games, from you, too. Just be aware I probably won't be joining you in playing them!

The post #oneaday Day 773: Off the Beaten Path appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

This sort of thing is oddly symptomatic of the modern industry, though. We take technology for granted so much these days that new, exciting things are met not with the excitement that they deserve, but with cynicism, caution and, at times, outright hostility. This is arguably wise, given that technology generally isn't cheap, particularly for early adopters. But sometimes I miss the days of wide-eyed wonderment at a new gizmo that does something no-one else has ever done before.

Case in point: Sony and Nintendo's upcoming handhelds, the NGP and 3DS, respectively. Both are pretty impressive pieces of kit—the 3DS for offering glasses-free 3D glasses (which may or may not prove difficult to appreciate for those who actually wear glasses) and the NGP for being a veritable behemoth of pocket-sized power. Both will make a significant dent in your cashflow should you choose to adopt them, but both are incredibly exciting pieces of technology.

So then, why do the industry press feel the need to publish articles like this? This is perhaps a bad example, because PocketGamer did, in fact, also publish a counter-article about why you will buy an NGP. But this is by no means an isolated incident; game sites are filled with list articles like this offering you "reasons to sell your Wii", "reasons not to buy an [x]", "reasons why the [y] is rubbish" (I'm paraphrasing, obviously). It's a curious offshoot of fanboyism that some game sites seem to be voluntarily perpetuating—presumably because it encourages "discussion". Discussion means hits. Hits mean ad revenue. That's what it's all about for many of these sites these days, after all.

Sometimes I think there's a market for a site that treats things with the kind of wild-eyed enthusiasm that we as kids and teens in the 90s used to show for every new and exciting thing. Remember when Starfox/Starwing came out and it looked like games we'd been playing on home computers for years but everyone still loved it because it hadn't been done on a console before? Remember when the Atari Lynx had hardware sprite scaling? Remember when you were gobsmacked about how many layers of parallax scrolling Shadow of the Beast on the Amiga had? Yeah. That. I want that back.

Perhaps it's symptomatic of the fact that technology advances have slowed somewhat since those days. An oft-quoted line with every new generation of gaming technology is "it's difficult to imagine how graphics could possibly get any better than this", or "[x developer] claims they're using 100% of the [y console]'s power". But then someone does something cool. It might not be as huge a leap as that between, say, the SNES and the PS1. But it's still an improvement, and something that I, personally, feel is still worth getting excited about.

For so-called "enthusiast press", sometimes we're not very enthusiastic.

[Thanks to @Alex_Connolly for inspiring today's comic.]

The post #oneaday, Day 40: Technology is Exciting! appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.