Summer Backlog: Kirby's Epic Yarn

Woah, I'm behind on keeping this updated. This article can also be found at the Yorker.

Kirby's Epic Yarn was something of an experimental title, letting Nintendo take some different steps in how they designed their platforming titles. The entire game revolves around the player character and the surroundings made from yarn, fabric and buttons - and it resulted in some interesting and visually-striking levels.

 

You might have remembered that I've covered this game before - and also that I mentioned that it was a title that took well to being completed 100%. After saying such I... moved on to other games before I'd reached total completion. Absolutely shameful.

With its 'no death, no failure' approach to gameplay, what made me put off finishing it was that it appeared too easy to be worth doing. Even for those who aren't the greatest at video games (and this would include myself), an element of danger and challenge is a good motivator. That challenge is present in Epic Yarn, but it's hidden under layers of fabric and fluff. The collectable items of the game are all items of furniture (or fabric patterns to decorate the walls and floor) to go in a virtual flat of your design. Furnishing your flat does nothing to affect the main platforming aspects of the game - and as such wasn't something I was prepared to bother with.

However, the interior design is actually a set up for bonus Challenge Stages. In addition to Kirby's hovel, there are five other apartments that each require a combination of furniture found in the main stages of the game - and even though I'd found the majority of them by besting the storyline, a few remained elusive. It was at this point that Epic Yarn had started to become a little more compelling. I was no longer just tasked with completing stages - something impossible to fail at - but a treasure hunt was added to the mix. It wasn't anything earth-shaking, but it made me look at some of the stages in a new way; taking time to explore the nooks and crannies.

With the requested furniture obtained, the challenge stages were open to me. These tasks take sections of the main stages and introduces alternate goals and restrictions. Find all the hidden characters in the stage. Destroy all enemies. Escort an item to the finish without losing it. Succeeding at these tasks unlocked additional wallpaper designs (joy), but they also added the factor of failure that the main stages lacked.
All of the challenges adhere to a time limit, sometimes a rather unforgiving one. Only a fraction of the challenges can easily be completed on the first try; and I found myself noticing just how slow Kirby moves. His relaxed gait was a direct conflict to the warning chime signifying I had less than 10 seconds to reach the finish line. Kirby's Epic Yarn had finally manage to become daunting!

However, while I was making steady progress with the challenge content - there was another factor that meant the play experience of Epic Yarn wasn't quite as excellent as when I had first played. When I made my first foray into the game, I was playing in 2 Player Co-Op. Having a partner deepened the experience considerably; not just in terms of gameplay - your ally doubles up as someone to help you get to hard-to reach areas, and handy ammunition to help you circumvent some puzzles - but also in having another human by your side, also experiencing and enjoying a game that may be short on spectacle, but abundant in whimsy and charm. Even in instances where your co-operation is less than stellar, the 'no failure' stance means relationships remain unsoured.

Taking on these bonus tasks solo was a smoother experience than playing with a friend, it was a lot less involved. While doing challenges, I was instinctively noticing how, if I were playing in Co-Op, I could circumvent a trap, or collect items twice as fast. Even with my successes, it felt a little hollow when the Player 2 character would show up on screen to do a happy little jig, but there was no equivalent sitting on my sofa.

Kirby's Epic Yarn may be a straightforward, and mostly unchallenging game, but it's taught me some interesting things about game design, stylistic direction, and most of all friendship. How appropriately saccharine.

Summer Backlog: Kingdom Hearts Re:coded

 

 

Sharing a similarity with films, video games that get enough sales in their initial release periods are almost guaranteed to see a sequel. Mainline developers that produce only standalone titles are few and far between. This can be attributed to fan recognition - why make a new platformer mascot or sports game when a Mario sequel or FIFA will bring home the big bucks? When you have those kind of assured sales figures, you can get away with making games that aren't designed for the newcomers. Die-hard fans make for the easiest sales pitches, and no series uses this notion more than the Kingdom Hearts franchise.

 

Starting out as a strange but relatively innocent action RPG on the PS2, Kingdom Hearts was an unexpected crossover of Final Fantasy and Disney - and even for gamers who aren't particularly fans of either franchise (I know for sure that I keep the amount of Little Mermaid in my life to a minimum), it became a hit due to it's then-uncommon gameplay and well-told story. But the director of the series, Tetsuya Nomura, wanted to make his story more ambitious. Sequels were put into production, and although the games were backed by waves of fan popularity, the stories became an increasingly convoluted mess. Nothing made sense unless you had played the previous games, and even then you might have trouble.

You would think that the games covering side-plots would be easy enough to understand on their own - but not here. At a glance, Kingdom Hearts Re:coded (Called such because it's a remake of a series of mobile phone games – Kingdom Hearts coded. Yes, the name is silly, but they've been sillier) is a DS game that even newcomers to the series can get behind. It's a retelling of the initial Kingdom Hearts, but with an interesting twist - it's only a 'virtual' version of the initial game's locations; and like any computer, the thing's ridden with bugs and glitches.

Having played a fair number of Kingdom Hearts games, though not in the right order (which made things confusing down the line), I found the premise rather charming. It's not often that a series will willingly parody its own plot, and knowing the story well enough so the intentional subversions and differences stand out. As far as game play is concerned, it means the landscape is ridden with 'blox', scattered across the landscape. Somewhere in all the mess is a source of all the glitches, a Backdoor that leads to a series of challenge stages. Defeat 30 enemies. Complete the stage within 2 minutes. Don't use any healing abilities. Finish these arbitrary requests, and you'll fix whatever errors that were barring your progress.

My run through of this game was rather straightforward. Like Call of Duty or Street Fighter, if you've played one instalment of the series the others become a lot easier to adjust to. The game goes to great lengths to ensure it's possible for anyone to finish - the difficulty can be changed at any time; 'Cheats' to mess with enemy health or how much experience you get from fights; and a helpful hint for what to do every time you die against a boss. But what got to me were the frequent changes in genre...

Like a lot of a recent games, it's not enough for Re:coded to stay the Action RPG it advertises itself as on the box. Every so often the game will set aside the rules that you've learned and turn the game into a 2D platformer. Or a Scrolling Shooter. Or in one instance; removal of the ability to defend yourself entirely, and the inclusion of (incredibly dense) AI partners to fight for you instead. These points were novel to start with, but more often than not I found them to entirely mar my gaming experience. It's a reasonable experiment to see if a game engine can handle multiple styles of play, but I can't be alone in thinking that a game that only does a single genre, but executes it in the best possible way is far more preferable. Re:coded has a great pedigree, with the controls refined from the 5 previous outings; but around half the game ignores it or heavily simplifies.

If you've already played a Kingdom Hearts game, you already know whether you want this title for your collection; but for those who've not heard of it, or glossed it over due to the Disney content, I do recommend giving the series a try - but don't start with Re:coded; it's a fan-bait game on all accounts. The original PS2 game is very abundant and can be picked up on the cheap, so have a little gaming history lesson and experience a game that had a hand in shaping the modern Action RPG.

 This article can also be found at The Yorker.

Summer Backlog: Bayonetta

I collect video games as a hobby; in a way, I do this more than actually play them. It's a bad habit, but not one unique to me - you wouldn't have to look far to find someone who hoards DVDs or books or music (I'm guilty of that last one too), but eventually you collect more than you consume, and you create the dreaded BACKLOG. The ever increasing mountain of media that you know you want to work through, but looks increasingly more daunting as you add more to the stack. How on earth will I juggle all these games around work or university? But since my summer holiday has started, I have the free time to work my way through some of my collection.

I started Bayonetta ages ago - last October when I moved in with a house mate who owned a 360. It was a game that I had followed from its announcement to its release - and I finally had the opportunity to take it for a spin. The game had pedigree - its production staff having worked on some of Capcom's greatest action titles of the PS2 era (Viewtiful Joe, Devil May Cry, Okami) - and Bayonetta promised to refine those sensibilities into the purest essence.

Bayonetta's premise is a rather ridiculous one. Bayonetta is an Umbran Witch, a clan of magic users forever waging war against the Lumen Sages for control of Heaven and Hell, all outside the notice of us ordinary humans. It seems Bayonetta is a key piece in the Lumen Sages gaining control; so they send an army of angels after her. The angels are monsters - all white porcelain and gold banding on the surface, but fleshy and hideous underneath their façade, ranging from lowly bird-like minions to two-headed dragons the size of cathedrals. Fortunately, Bayonetta can defend herself using her enchanted hair (which also comprises her clothing - so when the hair attacks her clothing gets skimpier. Oh dear), and pistols attached to her hands and feet. What this results in is some incredibly bizarre but very fluid combat.

Honestly, even though I wasn't very confident with the high-octane, no mercy action of the Devil May Cry series, I was able to take to Bayonetta with great ease - and caught a glimpse of that gameplay perfection they had touted. Bayonetta is a complicated game. Almost every button on the controller is a separate tool of destruction - controlling the titular witch as she caves in the faces of her angelic aggressors; and you're expected to know how to put all of them to best use, or die trying. And I did die - many, many times. I started the game on Normal difficulty, but that still required my full attention, learning both what I could do and how my foes functioned. When I 'got it', the game looked wondrous, my character weaving in and out of her enemies, dealing deadly blows left and right. Though more often than not, I faltered, leading to a pummelling, and a trip to the Game Over screen.

Even though my death count was steadily racking up, the game just kept me coming back for more. Even if the combat wasn't my forte; the game's visual set pieces - from a city in France being destroyed by waves of lava, to running up and down the sides of a moon-lit tower, to being flung through the air, fighting atop a slab of pavement wrenched from the earth. Every location looked and sounded stunning; overriding whatever frustration I had regarding my failures.

That was until the first Difficulty Spike. About halfway through, the game starts throws the meanest enemies in the game at you, Grace and Glory. At that time, I was in no way ready to take these guys on - my tactics were sloppy and my reaction speed just too slow. 15 deaths later and I had resigned. Too headstrong just turn the game down to easy and continue - I left the game in the dust and went to other endeavours.

Fast-forward to this summer, where I'm talking with fellow gamer Aryn, and I find out that he'd long ago beaten Bayonetta - even on Hard! "Show me your ways, oh teacher!" I said, and we sat down to play the game together. The experience drastically improved. Having not played for months my skills were rusty - the stopping point from before was no easier, but with advice and encouragement I got beyond that; and got to see the meat of the game.

While the detailed combat system is the crux of the game, it's broken up by some rather welcome changes in gameplay styles, echoing classic games in Sega's history. Ploughing down an motorway on a motorcycle echoes Super Hang-On, and riding on a commandeered torpedo, shooting down enemies amusingly references Space Harrier (along with some nauseating barrel-rolling that definitely wasn't in the Sega Mega Drive original).

As I neared the end of the game, I did a little research into the production of the game, and found something interesting, but a bit worrying. The game's director, Hideki Kamiya was the man responsible for Bayonetta's 'lethal sexiness' character design. It's presence was original and very well integrated, but at times this decision felt like something far less than feminism. Certain scenes (thankfully never story or gameplay-related) dropped all pretence of capability and class, and went straight for the Male Gaze. It never felt 'sexy', just awkward. If I was living with my parents or had a girl as a house mate, I could see myself as being too embarrassed to play Bayonetta.

It's a damn shame that such a wonderfully crafted game, the try to best example of the Hack 'n' Slash genre, is marred by something so objectifying and honestly rather sad. As I finished off the game's final boss and played through the ending sequence, I was elated to have finished such a difficult game, and wowed by the awesome stylishness of the ending sequence. Even the start of the credits had bonus battles to take on; but then my reward for finishing the game was poledancing. Sigh.

Bayonetta is entirely worth a play for anyone who likes action games, and even those who aren't confident with the genre can burn through the game on Easy – but I can't help but feel bad about promoting something with such rampant sexism in its design.

This article can also be found at The Yorker.