1551: Late-Night Dungeon

I’ve been dipping in and out of Demon Gaze since I wrote about it a few days ago, and while it has a few issues here and there — the discussion of which I’ll save until my review on USgamer, coming next week — I’ve been really rather impressed with this game.

In fact, that’s a bit of an understatement; on more than one occasion now the game has kept me up until well past 3 in the morning after I thought I’d just flip the Vita on for a “quick” game in bed before I went to sleep. (Granted, the last occasion this happened — last night — I had had far too much caffeine throughout the course of the day and was consequently finding it very difficult to sleep, but I could have done anything else with that time, and I chose to spend it lying in bed playing Demon Gaze.)

I’ve been trying to pin down what’s so enjoyable about it and it’s honestly quite difficult. It’s not that there’s no obvious good features about it; it’s that they blend together somewhat, and different aspects of the game appeal in different ways according to the conditions under which you’re playing.

Playing late at night, as I was, I was particularly enjoying the dungeon-crawling aspect of it. It’s not quite as hardcore as the 3DS series it’s taking pot-shots at, Etrian Odyssey in that you don’t have to map the damn thing by hand, but it’s still a game that, from the very outset, doesn’t hold you by the hand and expects you not only to work things out for yourself but also to experiment with the mechanics just to see what happens.

The core game structure is based around capturing demons. In order to do this, you must explore the dungeon that is the demon’s domain and capture all of the “circles” throughout by tossing a gem into them and then fighting the slobbering monsters that come out. Win, and you’ll capture the circle as well as receive an item according to the gem you tossed. Lose, and, well, you’re dead and better hope you had a recent save.

For the most part, this isn’t an issue. The monsters that come out of the cirlces are usually the same monsters you get in the rest of the dungeon, though sometimes in considerably larger numbers. As such, if your party is well-equipped to batter its way through the monsters in the dungeon, they can probably deal with the groups that come out of the circles.

Until the demon master of the dungeon shows their face unexpectedly, that is. You’re set up to believe they won’t turn up until you’ve captured all the circles and found the boss fight location, but in actuality what happens is some time around when you capture about half of the circles in the dungeon, the next one you try for will summon the demon. And it’s entirely possible they will smash your face in and then wear your buttocks as a hat, particularly in the first dungeon where your characters likely still aren’t all that powerful or well-geared.

The first time this happened, I thought I’d done something horribly wrong. Surely the game balance couldn’t be that broken? I experimented a bit; did the demon only come out of one circle, or all of them? (All of them.) Was it every time? (No, but seemingly most of the time.) Did using special abilities help? (A little.) Did levelling up help? (A lot.) Did better equipment help? (Also a lot.) By the time I’d reached my own conclusions — I should have just run away the first time I encountered Mars, then come back better-equipped and better-trained a little later, and probably with a healer in tow — it felt enormously satisfying to take the demon down and effectively clear the dungeon.

There are more subtle things, too. Occasionally you’ll find “Loot Maps” as random treasures in battle, for example, and these will give an area name, an X and Y map reference and the name of the “power” you need to reveal the hidden treasure at that location. Trouble is, the area name never matches the actual area names — “Garden of Thorns” becomes “The Vine-y Land” — so you have to use a bit of your own brainpower and deduction to figure out what it’s referring to. (Pro-tip: if the grid reference the map is pointing to appears to be a solid wall miles away from anything, you’re probably looking at the wrong area.) You also have to figure out which of the demons the “power” names refer to — rather than saying “you need Comet, Mars or Chronos” it’ll say something like “requires Dragon power” or the like. Again, there’s a wonderful feeling of smug satisfaction when you successfully decipher a map and uncover the treasure hidden in the location — particularly when the treasure in question is something that you’ve been searching for for hours for a quest.

Demon Gaze doesn’t give up its secrets easily, then, but for me, this is proving to be one of the best things about it as it makes your victories feel like genuine accomplishments. I’m looking forward to working my way through the rest of the game not only to see how the interesting story proceeds, but also for more sweet old-school grid-based exploration and treasure-hunting.

It’s bringing back fond memories of old titles like Lands of Lore, it of the Patrick Stewart-voiced intro fame, and will be a solid investment for any Vita-toting players who have a penchant for traditional dungeon-crawling. Watch out for it — and my full review — this week.

1174: The Second Tower

I beat Ar Tonelico II: Melody of Metafalica this evening. Or, more accurately, I saw one of its four endings. Two of the other endings won’t be particularly difficult to obtain with the tactical saves I made on the way to the finale, but the last remaining one will require playing about 80% of the game again, albeit with a completely different second “phase”. I’ll probably take care of that last ending alongside a new game, which will either be Hyperdimension Neptunia Victory or the third Ar Tonelico game, both of which I anticipate I will be enthusing about considerably on these pages in the very near future if previous instalments in their respective franchises are anything to go by.

Anyway, Ar Tonelico II. It’s… well, fantastic. I must confess to having not been as immediately smitten with it as I was the first game, as the conflicting art styles between the field and battle sprites (and between the field sprites of the first game and the second game) were initially a little jarring. (Seriously, everyone has really, really big hands and massive feet on the field maps and it’s very disconcerting to begin with.) But after not very long at all, I found myself looking past this rather superficial consideration and immersing myself in what turned out to be a very pleasingly deep and meaningful story packed with good characterisation and questionable translation from the original Japanese. (On that note, though, the translation was at least understandable despite a few errors, and certainly no worse than some visual novels I’ve played.)

Spoilarz Ahead

Ar Tonelico II stands on its own, but also fits into the current “trilogy” as the sort of “dark middle episode”. Whereas the first Ar Tonelico was rather bright and breezy most of the way through, the land of Ar Tonelico II is a bit bleaker. The people are struggling, there isn’t enough land for everyone and everyone is clinging to the seemingly hopeless desire that the land’s Holy Maiden will be able to create “Metafalica” — a verdant green land summoned through the use of Reyvateil Song Magic. Plenty of political machinations and backstabbings threaten to fuck everything up completely (and pretty much do on several occasions over the course of the entire narrative) but, this being a JRPG, our plucky band of heroes are there to wander the lands, right wrongs and eventually figure out how in the world they are going to help everyone find hope for the future.

Ar Tonelico II’s story is nice in that it isn’t quite the clichéd “Big Bad wants to destroy the world” business. Sure, there’s world-threatening stuff going on and the eventual aim of the game is to save the world from an unpleasant fate, but it’s not quite what you might expect. For starters, you spend most of the game not being quite sure who the “good” and “bad” guys are. There’s no sign of a single easily-identifiable antagonist who is fucking shit up and needs a good Omnislash to the face; no white-haired pretty boy accompanied by tubular bells and organ music every time he appears. In fact, over the course of the narrative, none of these characters are presented as one-dimensional — most of them go through some sort of change and/or growth as the story progresses.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about Ar Tonelico II in this regard is the fact that the final boss “Mir” from the first game is actually a party member in the second — though you don’t know this when you first meet her, and in fact it’s entirely possible to go through pretty much the whole game without noticing this or figuring it out, depending on the choices you make and the optional events you witness. Not having played the first game won’t affect your enjoyment of the second, but if you have played the first game, the moment where you find yourself going “Wait… OH. Mir?!” is a “big reveal” on a par with Darth Revan in Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic or SHODAN’s first appearance in System Shock 2.

Herein lies one of the interesting things about the first two Ar Tonelico games in general: “good” and “evil” aren’t absolute. In Ar Tonelico, we get some insight into why Mir is the way she is and why she is so angry about everything — and it’s easy to find yourself sympathising with her rather than just wanting to kick her ass. In Ar Tonelico II, by spending some time with her as a (relatively) normal person, we get to find out a whole lot more about her — what happened to her in the distant past, what led her to her actions in the first game, and how she feels about what has happened to her then and since. If you follow her “route” through to its complete conclusion in Ar Tonelico II, it’s a really wonderful story arc for one of the most interesting, troubled characters I’ve encountered in a very long time. I don’t yet know if she shows up in Ar Tonelico Qoga, the third game, but I’ll be very happy to see her again if she does.

The overriding theme of the Ar Tonelico series is that of bonds between people, and this is particularly apparent in the second game. The main theme of Ar Tonelico II’s story is that the more intense a relationship between two or more people, the more painful it is. The more people you surround yourself with, the more “alive” you feel from being part of something bigger than yourself, but the more pain you suffer when you lose those precious people. The world-ending chaos at the end of Ar Tonelico II is not brought about by a desire for dominance or a display of power, but instead out of a simple desire to not feel that sharp pain of loss any longer. If everyone was able to abandon their physical bodies and live on purely as an individual spiritual entity, the primary antagonist’s theory goes, no-one would have any need for other people, no-one would feel the pain of loss, and everyone would be happy in their complete and total individuality. But, responds the protagonist, no-one would be truly alive then. Life would not have meaning drawn from the people around you and the hardships you work together to overcome. You’d be little more than data.

It’s an interesting and somewhat bittersweet message, but it works hugely well in the context of both the overarching plot and the smaller, individual character-led stories that unfold over the course of the whole game. I’m all for exploring deep and thought-provoking themes through interactive entertainment, and Ar Tonelico II successfully achieves that without sacrificing the “spectacular” side of its overall experience. It’s still recognisably a JRPG with all the over-the-top pyrotechnics and anime-style special attacks that entails, but at the same time it’s a complex and emotional tale far beyond the “Evil Guy Is Over There, Go Stab Him” trope that people (largely incorrectly) assume still characterises the genre.

In other words, just go play it, all right?

1092: Modest-Breasted Heroine

The title of this post is taken from a trophy I attained in Hyperdimension Neptunia today celebrating my acquisition of the character “Nisa”, an embodiment of the game’s Western publisher NIS America. (“Nisa”, geddit?) Nisa wears a Bayonetta-style super-revealing leather catsuit unzipped to beneath her bellybutton, but is constantly ridiculed for having small breasts. She doesn’t seem to mind too much, to be fair, even when surrounded by the heaving bosoms of squeaky-voiced Compa and Neptune in her, I quote, “magical boob girl” form.

Hyperdimension Neptunia revels in the sort of innuendo and playful, childish humour prevalent in a lot of anime, particularly of the moe variety. In many ways, it’s quite refreshing to play a game that doesn’t really hold back on the boob-related humour, but it’s also easy to see how some might take issue with the game and its all-female cast’s shenanigans. Having played it for more hours than I’d care to count (the game doesn’t include the usual timer seen in most other RPGs) I can say with a fair degree of confidence that the game certainly doesn’t mean any harm by all this — it’s being bawdy and lewd for the sake of getting a few cheap giggles out of the player (regardless of gender) rather than explicitly “sexy”, a few fanservicey “event” pictures and costumes aside.

More importantly, though, said bawdy humour is but a small part of the game as a whole. After a while it just becomes the way things are in that world; part of the aesthetic. The characters all do plenty more than comment on the size of each others’ jumblies; they’re all actually rather well-realised, if a little reliant on rather conventional anime tropes. (I swear this game has more tsunderes per square foot than anything else I’ve ever played… b-but it’s not like I’m complaining or anything!) That said, the game often lampshades said anime tropes with the characters calling each other on when they’re falling into particular stereotypes, and there are several who have occasional surprises up their sleeves.

IF/Iffy/I-chan is a case in point. Initially appearing to be your stereotypical sour-faced textbook tsundere, Iffy quickly reveals herself to be quite an interesting character on the whole, particularly if you pursue the story arcs of the two DLC characters 5pb and Red. In the case of 5pb, we see Iffy acting as a confidante and counsellor to the chronically-shy idol, who is immensely insecure in herself when not hosting her radio show or performing her songs for fans. In the case of Red, we see Iffy humouring a childish girl’s fantasies and showing a softer side to her sometimes gruff-seeming exterior. It would be easy for Iffy to tell Red and her “Wifey number 1!” babblings to take a hike, but instead she plays along, even going so far as to award her “charisma points” any time she does something good.

The “goddess” characters are something of an enigma at this point in the story, but it’s quite amusing that the grumpiest of all the tsunderes in the whole game is the one supposed to be representing the Nintendo Wii, the happiest and most sunshiney of all consoles. The land of “Lowee” is a fantasy kingdom filled with houses that look like cakes, rainbows, mushrooms and bizarre, surreal happenings, but its ruler is a sour-faced, foul-mouthed young girl who would much rather lock herself in her room and read a book rather than have to deal with any of the events that are transpiring in the world. The PlayStation-themed goddess, meanwhile, is rather Gothic Lolita in her stylings (and very tsundere when in her “CPU” form) while the Xbox goddess is a sleepyhead blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl (anime shorthand for “foreigner”) who is addicted to online games.

It’s been a pleasure to discover the various layers this game has as I’ve progressed through it. The dungeon crawling is still very straightforward and unlikely to change significantly for the rest of the game, but the moves the characters are unlocking are becoming increasingly ridiculous, the time-attack dungeons are fun to challenge and the growing party means that I can start to take advantage of interesting mechanics such as the ability to switch party members in mid-combo.

The pacing is such that you never spend too long battling through endless random combats, either; each dungeon is short (if you know what you’re doing and skip the excess of the attack animations you can clear each one in 3-5 minutes tops) and you’re often rewarded for making progress with additional entertaining scenes between the girls. And as the game’s narrative has continued, these characters have started to show that they have been crafted with what seems like genuine affection from their creators. There’s a good sense of them being friends with one another, though the various “optional” characters don’t put in nearly enough appearances in the story scenes. I guess that’s understandable, though. The “core” of the game is the way the three contrasting characters of Nep-Nep, Compa and IF behave around one another; the others are relatively incidental characters whom you just happen to be able to take into batle.

I’m a little under 50% done with the game according to the menus, and I have no intention of stopping until I’ve finished it. Whether I tackle any of the free DLC dungeons (many of which have obscenely high “recommended levels”) remains to be seen, but I certainly intend to see as much of the core game as possible. And then move on to the sequel.

So yes. I laugh in the face of Hyperdimension Neptunia’s sub-50 Metacritic score. I’m having a blast, and you can’t stop me! MWAHAHAHA!

1014: Aselia the Exceedingly Lengthy but Still Well Worth Playing

Back in early October, I did an initial blog on my impressions regaring a Japanese-developed visual novel known as Aselia the Eternal. Since that time, I’ve written two columns on the subject for Games Are Evil — one about the game itself, the other about how it creates a convincing, coherent-feeling game world mostly through words — and there’s still a huge amount more to say about it. So I’ll brain-dump it all here and you can sift through at your leisure.

The first thing I want to say is that it’s a pity more people won’t play this. I can shout its name from the rooftops all I like, but I know for a fact that most of you reading this are not even considering picking it up and trying it out. This is the one failing of the video games medium becoming so broad and wide-ranging in recent years — no-one has time to play everything, so the vast majority of people concentrate on the recognisable names, the new releases, the triple-A blockbusters and the “indie darlings” of the moment, leaving titles like Aselia to — relatively speaking — flounder. Take a look at this great article by Rowan Kaiser, for example, in which he suggests a variety of games to give a gaming newbie a “crash course” in what the medium is all about. Everything on that list is, I’d argue, mainstream or at least “well-known”, and yes, I include titles like Journey and Papo and Yo in that description. They’re all “safe” options — and that’s not a particularly bad thing, especially when trying to introduce someone new to the medium — but a lot of people don’t ever step out of this comfort zone because there’s no real need to.

On the plus side, however, this means that the fans of these particularly niche games are almost infinitely more passionate and willing to discuss them than someone who has completed, say, Assassin’s Creed III. (There are exceptions, of course — I know I follow several people on Twitter who are obsessed with Ezio di whateverhisfullnameis and the overly-complicated lore of the Assassin’s Creed series to an unhealthy degree — but I’d argue the people who care that much are in the relative minority.) And, of course, there’s the fact that titles like Aselia represent “mainstream PC gaming” in Japan, so if you can actually speak Japanese (I’m working on it… slowly!) you’ll find like-minded people out there.

But anyway. If you have played Aselia the Eternal (or indeed any other visual novels) and want to enthuse about them with me, please feel free to do so at any time.

Now. To business. Indulge me a moment while I explain what it is that makes Aselia the Eternal particularly noteworthy or at least “interesting” to look at.

First of all, a little history. Aselia the Eternal was originally released in 2003 on PC as an 18+ eroge called Eien no Aselia – The Spirit of Eternity Sword. In 2005, it was stripped of its erotic content and released on PlayStation 2 as Eien no Aselia – Kono Daichi no Hate De (Aselia the Eternal: At the Ends of this Earth). Rather than the excision of the erotic content making it a “gutted” experience, however, the game was rewritten to make it more friendly to a wider audience. This “all-ages” version was later backported to PC in 2010, and translated into English by JAST USA in 2011, leaving us with the version we have today. JAST took the decision to translate the “all-ages” version rather than the 18+ original due to content which would have proven “problematic” to get around the censors — specifically, there are a number of characters who look very young (despite, as with most eroge, character ages not being made explicit anywhere), which makes erotic content involving said characters out of the question to Western audiences; and also, the original carried an “evil path” through the story which featured graphic scenes of violence and sexual assault — also deemed unpalatable to Western players.

The upshot of all that is that the version of Aselia the Eternal you can buy legally today is not compromised in any way from the vision of its writers, but equally it does not feature any content that you might not want anyone viewing over your shoulder. In other words, this is not a hentai game; rather, it is simply a Japanese visual novel/strategy game/RPG type thing sans bonking.

It’s the peculiar blend of genres in its gameplay that makes Aselia the Eternal an interesting one, though. Initially appearing to be a fairly conventional visual novel involving a cast of high school students, a pair of (foster) siblings with a mildly questionable relationship and the occasional innocuous-seeming choice that you just know will have surprisingly far-reaching ramifications, the game gets truly interesting after about 5-6 hours of pure exposition — 5-6 hours that will determine whether or not you’re in it for the long haul. The game’s player-protagonist Yuuto as well as several other characters get spirited away to a mysterious fantasy world, and a battle for survival begins. From this point on, you’ll be splitting your time between the number-crunching of a strategy RPG and the plot-heavy relationship manipulation of a visual novel. The two aren’t necessarily clearly demarcated, either — the game frequently breaks in mid-mission for 30-60 minutes of plot advancement — but this actually works in the game’s favour as it tries to tell its story, and stops story feeling like a “reward” and instead like everything you do is part of the ongoing narrative.

It helps, of course, that the actual gameplay in the strategic side of things is extremely solid. Here’s how it works.

As you progress through the game, you gain control of a wide variety of female “spirits” of different colours, as well as the protagonist. Differently-coloured spirits have different specialisms — blue spirits are good at direct attacks, for example, while green spirits tend to have higher HP and defense. Red spirits, meanwhile, are good at magic, while black spirits are a bit of a “jack of all trades, master of none” class, with good HP and defense, decent attack power and some useful enemy-crippling abilities.

Your forces are split into four “squads” of up to three units each. The unit in the first position of the squad is the Attacker, the second is the Defender and the third is the Supporter. The Attacker’s job is to… well, attack… the Defender’s job is to soak up damage and prevent critical hits, and the Supporter’s job usually involves casting spells of some description, which might be direct attacks, buffs or debuffs. Each unit has up to three equipped skills for each of the three different squad positions, for a total of nine skills at any one time. I say “at any one time” because as they level up, abilities get overwritten — sometimes this is your choice, other times, “Limited Skills” mean that you must overwrite a previous level of a skill when you earn a new one. Only one skill from each category may be “set” at once — this is the one which will be used in battle — and each skill only has a limited number of uses before the unit needs to return to a friendly town to rest and recharge.

You move around the “campaign map” via preset pathways, one “space” per turn. If you move onto an enemy, you attack them. Before the battle resolves itself, you can see the lineup of the enemy squad (including HP and abilities), and you then have the opportunity to rearrange your squad members and set the abilities you would like them to use in the upcoming battle — this is an immensely important step that can mean the difference between life and death — and then it’s into combat.

Battle unfolds in several phases. First of all, the attacking side’s Supporter casts an “Attack Support” spell if it has one set — these include buffs or some healing spells. Then the other side gets to do the same. Then the attacking side’s Attacker gets to make an attack, which is usually intercepted by the Defender if there is one, then the Supporter, then the Attacker finally. Certain skills allow units to target specific units other than the Defender — this can be particularly useful if the Supporter has a nasty spell ready, but not many HP left.

Following the first attack, the Supporter gets to cast a Divine Magic spell if they didn’t already case an Attack Support spell. These are mostly offensive in nature. Then the defending side gets to attack, then Divine Magic. This then repeats until all the units involved in the battle have expended the number of “actions” for the skills they have set. Certain skills may be used more than once per battle, and this can be used to your advantage — if, for example, the enemy Defender can only use their damage reduction skill once per battle and you have a powerful attack that can be used twice, that second attack will connect and do “critical” damage.

There’s an added twist with the Attack Support and Divine Magic spells — blue spirits have the special “Ice Banisher” ability when in the Supporter role, which can interrupt certain spells. Naturally, there’s a trade-off — blue spirits are also the strongest Attackers, so having one in the Supporter slot means that they’re not doing damage, but making effective use of Ice Banisher is essential to survival as the enemy gains access to stronger spells.

It’s a system that initially appears rather complex and confusing, but becomes second nature after no time. It’s actually a very elegant system that forces you to think carefully about which characters would be most useful in dealing with the situation in front of you, and requires that you manage your army carefully to ensure they’re strong enough to take on the challenges ahead of them. It also means that there are often a number of ways of getting past seemingly insurmountable challenges — that boss who is giving you grief may hit hard, but he only has two uses of his attack skill before he’s left unable to damage you, so if you can just keep your green spirit alive for two turns, you can then exact bloody revenge at your leisure.

Pleasingly, there’s no grinding in Aselia the Eternal. While you’re wandering the game world, your captured towns are converting their stored “mana” to “ether” at a rate dependent on how many Ether Refinery buildings you’ve constructed. The more towns you have, the more mana in your pool, but mana can’t be used in its raw state — it has to be converted to ether first. Once you have ether, however, this can be spent on constructing new buildings or, most importantly, levelling up spirits and the protagonist. To do this, they must be located in a town which has a Training Facility constructed, and their entire squad must rest while the individual unit trains. You gain access to various different trainers with different specialisms as the story progresses, putting an effective “cap” on your progress as you go through — but sometimes you hear rumours of trainers in far-off locations, and can enlist their services if you send a squad to go and pick them up.

So Aselia the Eternal would be an interesting strategy game even if it didn’t have the plot attached to it. What makes it a remarkable experience, however, is how the plot makes you feel about those units scampering around the world map. Because you get to know all the people in your squads in various story scenes, not just the main characters, you care about them and you don’t want them to die. Letting a unit die means that you’ll never see them again in the story, because there are no revive skills until very late in the game. When you see how many little subplots involving these seemingly “unimportant characters” are weaved into the overall narrative, you’ll very much want to be “that guy” and reload every time someone kicks the bucket. After all, Halion promised you that she’d bake some special treats for you in her shop when the war is over… you can’t let her die, now, can you?

And goodness me. The Feels. Aselia the Eternal has them by the bucketload, particularly when it comes to chapter finales. This is a game that doesn’t hold back on the emotional manipulation at all, and does its very best to make you feel terrible about every virtual life you take. The overarching story is at once both epic in scale and very personal to the protagonist, and the romantic subplots are expertly weaved into the narrative as a whole rather than serving as the sole focus as in some other visual novels.

I have one more chapter of the story to go, and I’m very interested to see how it concludes. Hopefully that will happen sometime this week.

But I feel I should probably stop there, as I’ve wittered on for over two thousand words. I won’t tell you to buy and play Aselia the Eternal because I know that probably 95% of you aren’t going to, but if, on the off-chance, you do, be sure to come and enthuse about it with me sometime.

1004: Thwarting The Fall

I finished Persona 3 FES: The Journey this evening, something I’ve been meaning to do for a very long time and finally got around to. Persona 3 remains one of my favourite games of all time, and the additions to The Journey — the story told in the original version of Persona 3 — are very welcome, offering deeper insight into the characters as well as some good old-fashioned fanservice.

Persona 3’s biggest strength is also one of the reasons why I imagine an awful lot of people won’t finish it: its length. Having played The Last Story earlier this year, I’m very much of the opinion that JRPGs don’t have to be incredibly long to be tell satisfying stories, but in the case of Persona 3 and its sequel, both of which are somewhere in the region of 85-100 hours in length, I can’t help but think that a lot of the respective stories’ impact would be lost if they decided to reign things in a bit and keep them snappy.

Persona 3, for those who haven’t played it, takes place over the course of a school year in Japan. You start in April, increasing amounts of Bad Shit comes to pass as the year progresses and you eventually finish either on New Year’s Eve with a bad ending or on January 31st with a good ending. And you’re expected to play through all the days in between, with only a couple of exceptions.

A day in Persona 3 typically consists of getting up, going to school (assuming it’s a school day), perhaps answering a question or two in class, hanging out with friends after school then either going dungeon-crawling, studying or socialising in the evening. The format occasionally gets shaken up with public holidays (and Sundays) when you don’t have school to worry about, and there’s a couple of trips out of the game’s main Japanese town setting at specific points in the story, but for the most part you are living the life of a Japanese teenager, albeit one who fights monsters after midnight.

It’s a long, slow slog through the game’s days, in short, but it’s only through dealing with this that you truly come to respect the sacrifices the game’s main cast has made in the name of trying to build a better world and beat back the darkness. Sometimes you really want to hang out with that hot girl who seems to have taken an interest in you, but instead you know that you should go shopping with the nice policeman who sells you various sharp implements, then go climbing the mysterious tower that appears after midnight and start twatting some Shadows in the face. Having to find this optimum “work-life balance” means that the time you do actually get to spend with your in-game friends becomes more precious — particularly as each of the “Social Link” stories that is attached to each person ends up being interesting and often emotional.

By the time you reach the game’s final battle, you have been through Hell and back with these characters, both in terms of having to cope with the everyday stresses of teenage life — exams, angst, friendship drama — and in having fought your way through hordes of Shadows to strengthen your party. By the time the final boss appears, you are ready to kick some ass and save the world.

And then the final boss fight takes somewhere in the region of an hour to complete. The game isn’t going to let you win so easily. It’s not an especially difficult fight if you’ve prepared appropriately, but it is long — a test of endurance… and of whether or not you remembered to stock up on items before wandering into the dungeon. It’s not boring, though — it’s paced in such a way that it shakes things up regularly, requiring you to change and adapt your strategies accordingly, particularly as you get closer and closer to final victory. By the time you finally take down the boss and get onto the “home straight”, as it were — and there’s actually a surprising amount still to see even after you’ve kicked its ass — you are physically and mentally exhausted, just like the characters, and the game knows this, hitting you with some intensely emotional scenes while you’re weakened.

Persona 3, then, uses its length to its advantage. While there is plenty of stuff in there that is clearly designed to allow masochistic players to inflate their play time yet further (I didn’t beat the Reaper, for example, and I seriously doubt I will ever see, let alone beat the “Ultimate Opponent” secret boss that only appears in New Game+) for the most part, it’s good stuff that allows you to immerse yourself in the small but very well-realised game world. You’re either doing teenagery things, or you’re fighting Shadows. Fight too many Shadows and you’ll exhaust yourself, meaning you’ll need to make sure you get some rest before you do anything strenuous — but while you recover, all your friends are waiting for you.

There’s always something to do and someone to see, and meanwhile the clock is ticking ever-onwards towards an inevitable conclusion. As time passes, everyone’s life goes on — even the incidental NPCs sitting around in various locations all have their own stories to tell that progress gradually as the seasons turn. Will the shy girl ever talk to the boy she’s stalking? Will the girl who’s obsessed with Mitsuru ever confess her feelings? Will the elementary school student at the station ever stop being a jerk to her obviously-nervous new teacher?

“Bonds of people are the true power,” runs the tagline to the Persona 4 anime, and it’s right. Both Persona 3 and 4 are what they are because of the people in their respective game worlds. After 80+ hours with them, it’s difficult to not feel a sense of attachment to them — even the most seemingly-innocuous incidental character. This sense of “belonging”, of immersion in a game world with realistic, believable characters — that, right there is why I love these games so much.

On to The Answer next, which I know nothing about beyond the fact it’s supposedly very difficult and wraps up the ambiguities left by The Journey’s ending. I’m very intrigued to see how it concludes for real, so doubtless you can expect another post on the subject after another 20 hours of gameplay or so.

#oneaday Day 926: Fortune Summons the Brave

Having finished Chantelise the other night I decided to move straight on to the latest of Carpe Fulgur’s translated Japanese titles, Fortune Summoners: Secret of the Elemental Stone. Unlike Chantelise and Recettear, Fortune Summoners was not originally developed by EasyGameStation, so I knew it was going to have some significant differences from the previous two games — I was curious to discover exactly what.

Fortune Summoners is a side-scrolling platform-RPG in which you play a prepubescent girl named Arche. Arche has moved to a new town with her family, and her father — an ex-adventurer — has decided to settle down with his wife and daughter, and open an item shop.

Arche is an endearingly ditzy little girl, charmingly naïve in the ways of the world. She’s not very bright, she’s terrible at arithmetic and she comes to her new magic school woefully unprepared, lacking the one component necessary for her to be able to begin her magical studies — an Elemental Stone. She does, however, have a strong sense of Doing What Is Right, and so decides not to mention the fact that she needs a stone to her family — who are somewhat lacking in funds due to their move and the start of their new life — and seek out one for herself. Thus begins an adventure that sees Arche discovering a great deal about the true power of the Elemental Stones and the origins of magic, accompanied occasionally by two equally prepubescent little girls.

If this all sounds terribly adorable, you’d be absolutely right. Like Carpe Fulgur’s previous releases — and despite originating from a different developer — Fortune Summoners is awash with bright colours, squeaky Japanese voices and well-defined characters who all have their own distinctive personalities. Witnessing Arche’s endearingly naïve responses to life-threatening situations never gets old, and her interactions with her party members and other characters is always a joy.

But beneath this brightly-coloured, charming exterior beats a heart of pure evil. Like Chantelise, Fortune Summoners isn’t afraid to drop-kick the player into a dirty toilet full of acid-tipped spikes and expect them to come out unscathed, undiseased and smelling of roses. This game is hard, and it is the very definition of “don’t judge a book by its cover.”

Each of Fortune Summoners’ three characters has their own unique abilities. Arche specialises in swordplay, while her companions Sana and Stella provide backup with water/ice and fire magic respectively. It’s possible for the player to switch between these characters at will, and during the game’s dungeons this frequently becomes essential to progress. Sana, being a water mage, is able to breathe underwater using her magic, for example, while Stella is able to burn down obstacles with her command of the fire element. Arche, meanwhile, doesn’t have access to magic for the vast majority of the game and thus is the “tank” of the group (and yes, the concept of a little girl being a tank is hilarious), with a higher hitpoint value, better defensive capabilities and an array of fighting moves designed to go toe-to-toe with the various horrible monsters that wander the countryside — and that none of the game’s cast seem particularly concerned about. (“Watch out for the slimes on your way home!” says their teacher at the end of a school day. You’d think they’d arrange a bus service or something.)

Each of the game’s characters make use of their abilities in a different manner. Arche, for example, can only swing her sword if she has drawn it first, which takes a valuable couple of seconds and thus is best done before combat rather than during. Following this, she can unleash various attacks by using Street Fighter-style direction and button combinations, allowing her to slash, thrust, use combination attacks, roll to evade, cartwheel backwards out of harm’s way and leap down on an enemy from above for unblockable damage. There’s a level of depth to combat that you don’t normally see in 2D-perspective role-playing games — and the game will most certainly punish you if you don’t get the hang of it, because wildly flailing at enemies will not get you far.

Sana and Stella, on the other hand, are better at hanging back and unleashing their magic from a distance. Sana has access to an icicle-flinging spell, for example, while Stella is able to create fire walls and homing fiery missiles. Sana also has a healing spell, which means she is really missed when you don’t have her. Spells are cast by making them active from a “hotbar” (or toggling through them with a controller button) and then holding down the “attack” button until a magic circle appears. Getting struck while casting causes the spell to fail, so it’s essential that Arche keeps the enemies occupied — or that the mages hang back before attempting to cast if, for whatever reason, they’re going solo.

The surprising complexity of the combat system really gives the game a pleasing amount of depth, where it could have been something very “hack and slash”. Instead, the game’s sword-and-magic play becomes very technical, and almost Demon’s Souls-esque at times. Different enemies require different strategies, and blocking is essential — though thankfully the game does come with a helpful “auto-block” option if you’re not performing any other actions, which does make things slightly easier — though not by much. Once again, though, like Chantelise, this means that Fortune Summoners is only going to appeal to a particular type of person — the type of player who doesn’t mind taking a bit of abuse from their games, and the type of player who doesn’t mind practicing in order to get better. (They also have to be the type of player who doesn’t mind playing as an adorable little girl, either, and there’s not always crossover between all of the above criteria. I happen to find the concept of a monstrously difficult game starring three very girly young girls hilarious, however, so I’m sure there are plenty of other people like me out there.)

Fortune Summoners, then, is not for everyone — and unashamedly so. This is, of course, no bad thing, as we all know by now that attempting to appeal to everyone is a lost cause that ends up with you making the most generic, inoffensive thing possible as you pander to everyone’s sensibilities. Fortune Summoners is for those who like a challenge from their games; for those who enjoy old-school sensibilities combined with the more complex gameplay or modern titles; and for those who have absolutely no issue with their on-screen protagonist being a loli.

If that sounds like you, then be sure to check it out here. (There’s a free demo, too, and you can even transfer your progress from said demo into the full game.)

#oneaday Day 890: Glorification

I’m probably about halfway through Quest for Glory IV so far and I have to say, I’m a big fan of the series. Back in “olden times” our family were pretty big fans of Sierra adventures, but the Quest for Glory series was one which passed us by for some reason. While the games have aged better in some respects than others, one thing has become very clear from playing them: the combination of adventure game and RPG works. And it works very well indeed.

The reason it works so well is because the two aspects are intertwined so seamlessly with one another. Rather than being an interactive storybook with battles (as I once heard Final Fantasy VII described ) the RPG elements are woven into the adventure gameplay. Your character’s stats are for more than simply how tough they are in battle — and in fact, combat plays a relatively minor role in most of the series. Instead, standard adventure game actions in Quest for Glory often involve a behind-the-scenes “skill check”, with the on-screen character either succeeding or failing at the action in question according to his skill levels. What this means in practical terms is that there are multiple solutions to every problem according to the player’s chosen play style and character class. A wizard might get through a problem relatively simply with a flick of the wrist and the cast of a spell; a fighter might have a more direct approach; and thieves have plenty of their own nefarious plots to get up to at night. Yes, here we have a thief character who is actually a thief rather than simply a DPS.

In terms of mechanics, the closest equivalent today would probably be one of the Elder Scrolls series, though it’s not a great comparison. In both series, you gain in power simply by practicing skills; in both, there are multiple solutions to problems that are often related to skills; but where the two diverge is in the amount of character and personality they’re infused with — not to mention the fact that The Elder Scrolls’ idea of a puzzle is rarely anything more complicated than switch-flipping.

The Elder Scrolls has rich lore but I’ve never felt like I was a particularly important part of the story. I was just “that guy” who turns up and solves problems whom everyone then promptly forgets about — in Oblivion, for example, you do all the hard work but then Sean Bean gets to do all the spectacular stuff at the end. Meanwhile, in Quest for Glory you are the hero. You are the most important person in the room when you walk in, and the game’s characters quite rightly come to love and respect you as you systematically sweep through, right all their wrongs and proceed on to your next adventure.

There’s a number of contributing factors as to why this works so well in Quest for Glory yet feels so bland and uninspiring (to me, anyway) in Bethesda’s epics. The main issue is one of scale — while it’s unquestionably impressive to explore all of Skyrim, Cyrodiil, Morrowind or the other provinces seen in the earlier Elder Scrolls games, this vast scale means that you never really get to know the locales and the people therein. The vast majority of characters are templates who say the same thing to you, and most of them have no personality whatsoever, acting simply as walking quest-giving machines and information kiosks.

Contrast with each Quest for Glory game, each of which is set in a very tightly-focused locale — usually simply a single town and its surrounding environs — and it becomes abundantly clear why it has that much more personality. Because there’s not so much vast empty space to fill with NPCs, quests and random events, everything was hand-crafted rather than resorting to templates. As such, everyone you meet in Quest for Glory is an interesting character — often with hidden depths. The plot for each game manages to remain mostly non-linear, with the required steps to proceed to the climactic “endgame” scenario in each usually completable in any order, but somehow it manages to provide a far more satisfying, compelling experience than I ever got from 50 hours in Skyrim.

The comparison between these two series isn’t fair at all, of course, as I’ve already said, but it’s somewhat telling that the closest equivalent to Quest for Glory I can find in modern gaming is so vastly different from these fascinating old titles. Why did the adventure/RPG crossover never take off? It’s clearly a combination that works, and imagine what a great job we could do of it today. One could argue that games such as Dragon Age and Mass Effect from BioWare take heavy cues from the adventure game genre, particularly with regard to interpersonal interactions, but even in those indisputably excellent games it’s still pretty rare that you’ll find yourself solving problems in creative, class-specific ways. They’re still stat-based, combat-focused RPGs first and foremost (with Mass Effect becoming more of a shooter as time went on) rather than adventure games that use RPG mechanics to help colour and direct the experience.

Part of the reason we haven’t seen more of this type of game is, of course, due to the supposed “death” of the adventure game as far as the press and, presumably, publishers are concerned. But look around for a moment; the adventure game most certainly is not dead. High-profile developers such as Telltale are putting out some high-quality, well-written point and clickers. The genre is having something of a resurgence on touch-based devices such as the iPad. And some developers are even still releasing 320×200 super-pixelated traditional point-and-clickers like the recent Resonance. Why hasn’t anyone just lifted Quest for Glory’s system and applied it to a whole new adventure, perhaps in a new setting? I’d play a Quest for Glory in space, or in a 1920s noir style, or… you get the idea. The stat-based adventure game where the outcomes of your actions are determined by your skill values has a lot of scope for exploration, and I really wish we’d see more of it. Unfortunately, it seems that despite the universal adulation the Quest for Glory series receives, no-one is willing to defile its long-dead corpse and resurrect this fascinating subgenre for a modern game.

The first developer who does shall most certainly be in receipt of some of my money.

#oneaday Day 866: NierCast

I’ve finally beaten Logic into submission and got it up and running on my new Mac, which means I’ve finally been able to edit the most recent Squadron of Shame SquadCast. Here it is:

(Direct link for those who can’t see the inline player)

The subject of the podcast is Nier, an action RPG for PlayStation 3 and Xbox 360 published by Square Enix and developed by Cavia. You may recall I was enthusing about this game quite a lot back in early May, and that enthusiasm was what sparked the desire for us to do this particular podcast.

Nier is a fascinating game. Whether or not it’s actually a good one is up for debate somewhat, but it’s certainly a unique experience in the console space. In fact, to call it an “action RPG” as I did above is a gross injustice, since the game also incorporates elements of bullet hell shooters, text adventures, 2D platform games and open world quest-based “traditional” RPGs. The only games I can think of that offer a comparable experience include Space Rangers 2 and King Arthur: The Role-Playing Wargame, both for PC, and both offering wildly divergent experiences from Nier, but both taking this “kitchen sink” approach to genre blending.

Nier also distinguishes itself by having a mature plot that is worth following through. Sure, it’s pure fantasy, but it’s good, compelling fantasy — and the fact that the game was released as part of a much larger opus that spans several forms of media is very much apparent if you take the time to read up on it using sources such as Grimoire Nier. The game can most certainly be enjoyed in its own right without exploring any of the additional background material, but it becomes a far richer experience once you delve into the lore of the world — and, for that matter, the story of the game’s creation. It’s very much an example of a game whose world and characters are “bigger” than the game they inhabit, much like an author who plans out their characters by writing scenes for them that never appear in the book in question.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about Nier, though, is its treatment of “New Game+” — the ability to go back and replay it after you’ve beaten it once. In many role-playing games, taking on a New Game+ is simply a matter of starting again with all your awesome items, equipment and buffed-up characters from the end of your first playthrough and then romping through the game slicing off heads with gay abandon and nary a fear for your own safety. Nier certainly does this — on subsequent playthroughs, boss fights that were once challenging are an absolute joke — but it’s not the most important point.

Without getting into spoilers, Nier’s New Game+ gradually adds new layers of complexity and nuance to the plot, calling into question the actions that you undertook without even thinking in your first playthrough. The player is given additional context with which to understand exactly what is really going on — and this manages to seamlessly pull the player’s perspective around between several different characters and conflicting viewpoints while still keeping them in direct control of the titular hero. It’s a very interesting experiment in a variation on the “unreliable narrator” trope, and one which could really only be done so effectively in an interactive form of entertainment such as a video game. It also makes Nier’s New Game+ something that is actually worth doing rather than something which is just there for a bit of fun — and it’s worth noting that it makes it abundantly clear when you’ve done absolutely everything there is to do by actually deleting your save file when you’re done. In the context of the game, this somewhat dramatic action makes a great deal of sense (though you are asked to confirm whether you’re sure you’re okay with this five times) — but can you imagine what would have happened if, say, Mass Effect had pulled something similar? It would have been brilliant, but those complaining about the game’s ending would have been even more furious than they are.

The final thing worthy of note about Nier is that it takes no more than 40 hours to do absolutely everything in the whole game including three New Game+ runs (an utterly stupid real-time farming minigame aside, which can be easily gamed by dicking around with your console’s clock), making it eminently friendly to the busy lifestyles we grown-ups tend to lead these days.

So if you’ve never given Nier a shot, give it a chance. You might be pleasantly surprised. And if you have played and loved Nier — or, indeed, have no intention of ever playing it, ever — be sure to listen to our podcast for some in-depth discussion on this remarkable game.

#oneaday Day 835: I Finished Nier

As the heading says, I have indeed finished Nier… once, anyway. I’m going to hold off on doing a “review” as such for the moment, however, for several reasons. Firstly, a full understanding of the game is only attained following several playthroughs. And secondly, Nier is a fine example of how the “reviewing” system we use most of the time is, at times, flawed.

Nier enjoyed mediocre review scores on its original release, netting a Metacritic average of 68. As people who care about such things will tell you, 68 is not “bad” if you’re taking 50 to be “average”, but unfortunately no-one does. The assumption is made by most people that anything under 80 is not really worth bothering with, and anything 90 or higher is an essential purchase.

But in my experience, it’s often in these slightly lower areas that you get the most interesting games. They may be rough around the edges, they may not be perfect, but by golly they have soul.

If you were judging Nier purely mechanically, it’s easy to see why it attained the mediocre review scores it did. There are a very limited number of environments to explore which you spend a lot of time backtracking through. The environments are pleasant enough, but not that interesting. The enemies are repetitive. Combat can be a bit clunky. Most of the magic spells are fairly useless. The AI partners you pick up over the course of the game are completely useless. Most of the game’s quests involve either killing things or fetching things. Choices you make don’t matter. And the “real-time” mechanic for growing crops is just ridiculous.

The thing is, though, play Nier and become invested in its story, and absolutely all of these factors cease to matter completely. Nier tells an interesting, mature, emotional tale, and it tells it well with a small cast of well-defined, unique (and bizarre) characters — and a much larger supporting cast who make the bleak, far-future world of the game seem all the more believable. It piles on the darkness but knows how to lighten the mood with a pithy comment or two at just the right moment. It constantly does things you don’t expect — with the story, with the characters, with the style of gameplay, even with the camera angles. It encourages the player to get inside the head of this unyielding, determined protagonist and almost “method act” their way through the game as he toils and struggles to save his daughter.

Do Nier’s occasionally-clunky mechanics and sometimes-repetitive gameplay make it a “bad” title? Absolutely not. They may, however, put off the less patient players out there — and that’s fine. Those who stick with it will find themselves enjoying a surprisingly creative adventure, while those who chose to forgo the game’s hidden charms and depths for whatever reason doubtless have plenty of other things they’d like to spend their time playing.

The sad thing, though, is that the mediocre review scores were probably enough to put a lot of people off even trying the game in the first place. Why bother buying and playing a “68” when you could play a “90”? This problem becomes compounded when you take into account the fact that a lot of publishers make strategic decisions about what franchises they want to explore further — and in extreme cases, which development studios get to keep taking home their paycheques — based on Metacritic scores. Do you think we’ll ever get another Nier (or at least a game like it)? Probably not. Why? Because it’s too risky. Nier has its fans, sure, but they number relatively few, and aren’t necessarily going to be enough to let the game make a profit.

I’m glad Nier exists, though. It’s evidence that all hope is not lost for creativity, maturity and a desire to do something a little bit different, even in these days of budgets spiralling out of control and a growing desire to create games that are “services” rather than “creative works”.

Nier most certainly is a creative work, a labour of love, and it should be applauded for that.

#oneaday Day 833: Some Further Thoughts on Nier

I haven’t yet finished Nier, but I thought I’d take a moment to write a little more about it since I’ve been playing it quite a bit over the course of the last week or so.

Nier is a game that rewards patience and perseverance. The game’s enormous number of completely optional sidequests is testament to this fact. These sidequests tend to fall into one of several categories — gathering materials, killing things or delivering things. There are a couple of outliers (one of which I’ll discuss later) but for the most part they are mechanically very simple, and usually simply involve beating up a bunch of monsters or running from one place to another.

In gameplay terms, they’re very boring, and this is one of the reasons why Nier received rather mediocre reviews on its original release. But thematically, they are entirely appropriate. Nier himself is known among his peers as “that guy who will do anything” and so is regularly called upon by various villagers to do things for them. Some are respectful and kind about this, others less so.

The key thing about the gruelling experience that is attempting to 100% the sidequests in Nier is that it reflects Nier’s own struggles. Life in his world is hard, and everyone has to pull together in order to survive. This sometimes means knuckling down and doing things you don’t really want to do, or things that are time-consuming, or things that are expensive. By completing these quests you may not be directly making Nier himself any stronger, but you as the player come to understand his strength of character and his resolve to do the right thing. Couple this with Grimoire Weiss’ sarcastic comments about the inane nature of the tasks his companion is asked to complete (which reflects what the player might be feeling about taking on such seemingly meaningless missions) and you have a very clever piece of characterisation and storytelling that would only really be possible in the medium of video games.

Some aspects are just ridiculous, however, the most notorious of this being the farming minigame, where Nier is able to grow various crops outside his house and then harvest them, hopefully for profit. The thing is, these crops grow over the course of a day or so of real time, meaning that anyone getting serious at farming is going to have to do one of two things: play Nier for weeks at a time, or take the path of least resistance (which I don’t know anyone who has played the game that hasn’t done) and start messing around with your console’s clock. I can’t speak for the process on PS3 as I haven’t tried it, but on Xbox this is an unnecessarily cumbersome experience that involves quitting the game entirely, turning off the Internet connection (to stop the clock being automatically set), resetting the time and then reloading the game. It works, though, and allows for a considerable amount of harvesting in a very short period of time.

One quest in the game (and a related achievement/trophy) practically requires that you do this. It involves cross-breeding various colours of flowers in order to produce rare breeds. The trouble is, the game doesn’t explain how this works anywhere, and debate still seems to rage on the Internet at large as to what is actually necessary in order to perform this task in the most efficient manner possible. In some senses, this could be argued to be another aspect of the game inviting the player into Nier’s shoes and tasking them with finding out how this flower cross-breeding works, then applying that knowledge in the game — because it sure as hell isn’t going to tell you.

How anyone was expected to do that without a strategy guide to hand is anyone’s guess. Still, even when simply following instructions on how to do it (with something along the lines of a 10% chance of success each time) it’s strangely satisfying when it does all come together.

I’m about 77% of the way through the sidequests in the game now, meaning that shortly I’ll be able to pursue the rest of the game’s main plot, which has been both interesting and unconventional for a Japanese game so far. I’ll talk more about that when I come to do more of a “review” of the entire experience, however. The game also supposedly encourages repeat playthroughs (minus the sidequests, thankfully) to get to several different endings, but how this actually works I haven’t found out yet.

In fact, I’ve managed to remain completely spoiler-free for the entire game so far, meaning I’ve been able to appreciate all the game’s unexpected and bizarre things as they happen. This has been a big part in why I have come to regard the game so fondly; though the characters, writing and music are all excellent too. Again, though, further thoughts on these when I’ve actually beaten the whole thing.

For now, I have some white moonflowers to harvest, if you’ll excuse me.