1891: Fragile Dreams

I fancied playing something a bit… different tonight, so I went to my shelves, bulging with backlog bounty, and looked at a few possible titles to give a go to. I didn’t feel like starting a traditional RPG just yet, so quite a few things were out, but my eye eventually stopped on a Wii title I knew nothing about but owned a copy of: Namco Bandai’s Fragile Dreams.

You may wonder why I own a copy of a game I know nothing about. Well, it was from a while back, when UK retail chain Game was in a bunch of trouble and looked like it might be folding; they were selling off a ton of their stock at ridiculously low prices, so I took the opportunity to grab lots of things that looked even a little bit interesting with a mind to eventually playing them at some point in the future. Fragile Dreams was one of them.

So how is it? Well, pretty damn cool so far. I’m not entirely sure what I was expecting, but I don’t think it was a feels-heavy action-RPG survival horror adventure game featuring the same “your Wii Remote is a torch” mechanic that worked so well in Silent Hill Shattered Memories. There’s actually a touch of Silent Hill in the game’s atmosphere, though in the case of Fragile Dreams it’s not so much about psychological horror as an ever-present sense of loneliness and abandonment.

At the outset of the game, the old man whom protagonist Seto has been living with dies, leaving him all alone in what appears to be a post-apocalyptic landscape. We don’t know anything about what has happened to humanity as the game begins, but little bits and pieces are revealed as you make your way through the game, both through elements of the environment that can be examined and “memory items” that allow you to hear the final thoughts of the world’s former inhabitants when you take a rest to restore your HP and save.

Seto isn’t completely alone in the world, despite initial appearances. Very early on, he encounters a silver-haired girl and proceeds to spend the next few hours (and, I’m guessing, going by my experiences so far, most of the game) chasing after her in an attempt to find out who she might be. Along the way he encounters some sort of sentient computerised backpack with mild self-esteem issues called PF, a not-quite-human person called Crow, a dead little girl with a penchant for cheating at hide-and-seek… and I don’t doubt there will be more strange and wonderful characters to encounter before the story has reached its conclusion.

It’s been a really interesting ride so far. The combat kind of sucks, but it’s a relatively minor part of the game, and the “survival horror” elements of having limited inventory space and weapons that have finite usage before they break add a bit of tension to the experience. It’s not been particularly scary so far, despite the presence of ghosts and whatnot, but it has been thought-provoking and emotional, even just four or so hours in. The emphasis appears to be more on the general atmosphere and feelings of loneliness than on outright trying to scare and disturb the player, and I’m fine with that.

There’s a lot of subtle charm to the game, too. Seto is just a kid forced to find his own way in the world well before he would have normally had to, and while he handles his task with a certain degree of maturity that you might not expect from someone whose voice hasn’t broken yet, his childlike qualities come through in game elements such as the automap which, rather than being a bland, clinical but clear affair, is presented as childish scribblings, complete with notes and doodles about scary and awesome things you’ve come across in your travels. Likewise, the baffling inclusion of lots of cats around the game world who can be tempted to come and play with you through the use of a cat toy makes for a welcome break from hitting ghosts with improvised weaponry, or trying to track down that one key you really need right now.

There’s clearly a lot about Fragile Dreams I don’t yet understand. But I’m very glad I chose to take a chance on it and see what it was all about; it’s shaping up to be a fascinating, deeply memorable experience. I hope it manages to keep this up until the end.

#oneaday Day 942: Trails in the Sky

[Aside: This is the one-thousandth post on this blog. Hooray! Another 58 days until I’ve completed a thousand days of daily blogging, however.]

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.

#oneaday Day 931: Pure Profit

The more doublespeak I hear from industry analysts and company executives on earnings calls, the more and more glad I am that companies such as Atlus, Carpe Fulgur, Xseed et al exist. (Though Atlus should really pull their finger out and open a European office. I’ll happily run it. Single-handedly. Gladly. Just bring fucking Trauma Team out over here and we’ll be cool, Atlus. Why you gotta be that way?)

Why? Because these are companies whose primary motivation is not profit, it’s pleasing their customers. They accept that they are catering to niche interests and accept that they are not going to create games that sell millions of copies.

Here’s an actual quote from Aram Jabbari of Index Digital Media, Atlus USA’s parent company:

“With the launch of the strategy RPG Growlanser: Wayfarer of Time, an iteration in the popular franchise never before released in North America, Atlus demonstrates the continuation of its proud heritage of supporting niche titles aimed at the core gamer. We are not intimidated by the challenges of servicing a smaller audience or pursuing more modest success with a given project. Our fans are excited for a new Growlanser title and we are excited to be able to bring one to them.”

What a great attitude to take. A bold, proud statement that Atlus specifically isn’t going after the quick buck, but is instead aiming to build long-term loyalty with its customers by giving them the things that they have been asking for.

Note: this is not the same as pandering to the whims of crybabies. It is a case of listening to your customers and providing them with things that they will appreciate, which in turn builds up a strong and significant base of loyalty which can be drawn upon in the future. I know plenty of people who will happily pick up anything that has the Atlus stamp on it purely because of the goodwill the company has built up over the years (goodwill which they’re at risk of losing with the whole Persona 4 Arena region-lock business, but that’s another matter entirely).

It’s the same with Carpe Fulgur, whose dedication to their craft shines through in every one of their three releases so far. While Recettear, Chantelise and Fortune Summoners may not be the most technologically-stunning or even best games in the world, they feature a top-quality localisation job the likes of which we haven’t seen since the days of Victor Ireland and Working Designs on the PS1. They work on niche titles that players might not have heard of, but built up a solid foundation of brand loyalty with Recettear and have continued to provide memorable experiences since.

Then there’s Xseed Games, whom I have to admit I’m not as familiar with, but who are noteworthy for bringing excellent PSP action-RPGs Ys Origin and Ys: The Oath in Felghana to PC, and are also handling the North American release of the fantastic The Last Story. (C’mon, guys, pick up Pandora’s Tower, too — your fans will thank you.)

And then there’s the even smaller niche developers and publishers like Mojang, Gaslamp Games, Zeboyd Games — too many to mention. Not one of these companies is responsible to shareholders and investors, which means they can take a much more “human” approach to business. Their team members can speak as individuals and freely give their opinions rather than stock, robotic “we do not comment on rumours and speculation” responses that frustrate journalists and public alike so. They can enthuse about their products in human terms rather than spouting bollocks like this actual quote from Ryotaro Shima, senior vice president the EML business department at GREE Inc and CEO of GREE UK Limited:

“The formation of a UK studio is strategically significant on many levels. Primarily it will allow us to focus on Western content, keyed to local social trends, as well as tailoring content for global propositions. It also reinforces GREE’s commitment to growth within European markets.”

Besides the fact that these smaller companies tend to have job titles that are less of a mouthful, there’s a clear disparity in the language used. Let’s take a look at another quote that is more roughly equivalent to the one from Jabbari I posted at the beginning of this piece — this one’s from Paul Nicholls, sales and marketing director at Koch Media, annoucing Andrew Lloyd Webber Musicals: Sing & Dance (yes, that is a game that is actually coming out, and you bet it’s a game being made primarily as something that will sell rather than a great creative work):

“This is a fabulous signing for us. Andrew Lloyd Webber and his creations are a British institution that have been enjoyed by generations across the world. The chance to bring this product to market for the Nintendo Wii is both an honour and hugely exciting.”

Note the difference in the language used. Jabbari refers to “our fans”; Nicholls talks of “bringing this product to market”. Jabbari speaks of “servicing a smaller audience”, “pursuing more modest success” and emphasises what Atlus is doing for its fans; Nicholls speaks of what a “fabulous signing for us” the Andrew Lloyd Webber license is — no mention of customers at all.

Obviously those two aren’t exact equivalents — one is a rather niche PSP release while the other is a Wii game based on the music of Andrew Lloyd Webber. But the point stands — personally speaking, I’m much more inclined to respect companies that have a “human” face; companies who make it clear that their first priority is not shifting as many copies as possible, but pleasing, surprising and delighting their fans.

Obviously it would be nice if the niche titles were multimillion-sellers, but that would somewhat diminish their “niche” status. What the continued existence of smaller outfits like Atlus, Xseed and the like proves, however, is that you don’t have to be focused on big business and the bottom line to be successful — it is possible to please your customers and have a company that performs well.

It’s also, I’d argue, a sign that going public is a terrible, terrible idea for a company supposedly based around creative ideas. As soon as “what would be cool?” becomes “what would sell?” or “what will make the investors happy?” I, for one, am no longer interested, because I’m being treated as a bag of money rather than a human being. For all I know, Atlus et al may be laughing all the way to the bank, but because they put such a human, consumer-friendly face on the way they do business, I’m more than happy for them to take all of my monies while I consistently give companies like EA, THQ and Activision the finger until they start speaking English.

#oneaday Day 775: Having a Corpse Party

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.