Retrospective: Sonic Adventure 2

Were the Sonic Adventure games good? Throw that question out to the crowds of Twitter users and watch people fight over it, because it’s a contentious one. But that wasn’t always the case. This series had a famously rough transition from 2D to 3D, but I think a lot of the poor reputation of modern Sonic stems from the total disaster that was Sonic ’06 and from some of Sega’s less bad but still pretty bad blunders such as the endless slog of the nighttime sections of Sonic Unleashed and the entirety of Shadow the Hedgehog.

The Adventure games, on the other hand, went over pretty well at the time. The first two real Sonic games in 3D were far from perfect, with plenty of camera problems and glitches, but I remember liking them when I first played them on the Dreamcast, and I don’t think anyone really outright hated them or declared the series dead after playing them. A lot of fans agreed, and I do too, that they weren’t nearly as good as the original 2D games on the Genesis, but they weren’t considered a disgrace to the series or anything like that. Even when the Dreamcast died, these two games were at least well-regarded enough to live on as Gamecube ports with new features added. Yet now they do get quite a lot of hate, especially the first one, which I’ve even heard called one of the worst games ever made.

I’m not going to address here whether Sonic Adventure deserves that harsh assessment, though I’m pretty sure it doesn’t. But I only own the Steam port of Sonic Adventure 2, so that’s the one I can write about without having to dig through hazy twenty year-old memories. I finally got around to playing this version of SA2, and I don’t feel that differently about it now than I did back when I played the Dreamcast original upon release in 2001: generally pretty all right but with some boneheaded gameplay decisions and clunky elements that make it a chore to get through sometimes.

But amazing dialogue

But you’re reading this to get specifics, so let’s get to them. SA2 opens with a nice cinematic-looking shot of Sonic being transported as a prisoner on a military helicopter for a crime he obviously didn’t commit, because he’s a good guy. So he jumps out of the helicopter and onto the streets of San Francisco using a broken-off piece of it as a skateboard (Sonic doesn’t take fall damage, so he’s fine.) It turns out that he’s a victim of mistaken identity, because the grandfather of Dr. Robotnik, now officially known in the West as Eggman, developed another anthropomorphic hedgehog as an experiment on an orbital base to be the ultimate lifeform.

When Eggman discovers this being called Shadow, he unleashes him to cause some chaos. And of course, since Shadow and Sonic are shaped in a vaguely similar way, everyone thinks it’s Sonic wreaking havoc instead. While Sonic runs from the military police, his friends Tails and Knuckles join up to help out, pairing off against Eggman, Shadow, and another new character named Rouge, an anthropomorphic bat lady and a government spy. But she’s also a treasure hunter who’s after the Master Emerald, which for some fucking reason isn’t on the Floating Island anymore.

Remember when Knuckles was the guardian of the Floating Island and sworn to keep this shiny rock on it, otherwise said island would fall into the ocean like in Sonic 3 & Knuckles and Sonic Adventure 1? Well Knuckles doesn’t, because he never even brings that up. And this is the third time he’s lost the damn thing anyway. What are you doing, Knuckles?

And since Knuckles shatters the emerald on purpose to get it out of Eggman’s hands, he has to search for the missing pieces again while also helping out Sonic. Amy Rose is also around, though she sadly doesn’t get much to do this game other than pine after Sonic and get captured by the bad guys as usual. Other things that happen in the course of the game: Sonic and Tails meet the President of the United States, and Eggman blows up half of the Moon with a giant space laser.

More stuff happens in Sonic Adventure 2, but this is enough to see that the plot is pretty damn stupid. In places, it doesn’t even make sense. The mistaken identity part is already silly enough since Sonic and Shadow clearly look different even from far away, so why does everyone mistake Shadow for Sonic? I guess it’s because the game needs someone for you to fight/run away from in these stages. And it can’t just be Eggman now, because he’s also a playable character along with Shadow and Rouge in the second “Dark” storyline that runs parallel to the “Hero” one up until the final part of the game, when both teams have to work together to defeat a greater, more insane evil than even Eggman himself.

But does anyone care that much about the plot of a Sonic game? Some people do, and five years later the series tried a sort of serious RPGish plot with Sonic ’06, but that didn’t work at all and went over horribly. So maybe it’s better if the games don’t worry so much about plot. You can easily ignore the dumb plot, because the gameplay is the main thing.

Sonic Adventure 2 also trips up a bit there, however. The first Sonic Adventure, released in 1998/99, tried out a lot of different gameplay modes, a couple of which were famously clunky (namely Big the Cat’s fishing game that’s widely hated; people also complained about Amy’s sluggish platforming style, though I didn’t mind it as much.) Sonic was still the center of attention, however; his game was by far the longest out of the six, with many more stages to play through. SA2 cut down on the number of gameplay modes to just three: traditional fast platforming action with Sonic and Shadow, an exploration-based hunting mode with Knuckles and Rouge, and a third-person mech shooter with Tails and Eggman, each mode sharing equal game time. So when you’re playing SA2, you’re only running around classic Sonic-style for one third of the time.

This is obviously a problem if you don’t like the other two-thirds of the game. You can’t even just play through Sonic and Shadow’s stages and ignore the others like you could in SA1, because instead of individual character routes, the story is told through two separate Hero and Dark routes that alternate stages between Sonic/Tails/Knuckles and Shadow/Eggman/Rouge. So you just have to suffer through those parts if you’re not interested in them.

Do you know the Pumpkin Hill song by heart? I fucking do

I don’t hate all the non-Sonic/Shadow parts of this game. The Knuckles and Rouge hunting levels get a lot of shit, but I don’t find them that bad. The scavenger hunt element of those stages work pretty well, and the three emerald shards or whatever other three objects you’re hunting for are placed in randomized locations that you need to find by using a sort of hot/cold radar system, so each run through of a stage plays a bit differently. The horrible camera controls can make it hard to dig around in tight areas as you’ll often have to do, but the camera in this game is always a pain in the ass anyway.

No, the sections of SA2 I really don’t care for are the mech stages. It was a fun novelty to play as the villain Eggman, and it makes sense that he’d be using a mech to get around, but Tails is now also stuck in a mech throughout the game, which means the player misses out on his unique flying ability that made playing as him in Sonic 3 & Knuckles so fun. I know Tails is supposed to be an engineer, so it’s not crazy that he’d be driving a mech around, but that still seemed pretty dumb to me. You can fly, so why not use that skill?

The greater problem here, though, is that these stages are just too slow and dull. I don’t see anything special about them. Though I do know people who really like them, so this seems like one of those “your mileage may vary” issues.

excitement

But the Sonic and Shadow stages are pretty fun. They’re still not as fun as the stages in the original Genesis games, partly because they’re far more linear. But I think the main appeal of these stages in the early 3D Sonic games is seeing how quickly you can make it to the goal. This game even implements a time/score-based ranking system from E to A (no F, I guess because if you reach the goal, you haven’t technically failed no matter how long it took you to get there) along with four extra challenges in each stage and bonuses for completing them successfully. If you’re a completionist, you can get a lot of replay value out of Sonic Adventure 2.

Some of that replay value is also provided by the Chao Garden, where you can raise some weird onion-headed blue creatures with any of the six playable characters, feed them animals to make them strong, run them in races, etc. I’m not into this kind of virtual pet stuff, but if you are, it’s worth checking out.

This is pretty much how you raise Chao as far as I know

The team that ported SA2 to Steam seems to have done a pretty decent job, because it mostly plays fine.* I do get some slowdown in a few parts of stages (mainly Sonic and Shadow’s visually busy jungle stages) but I’m not sure how much of that is me having a piece of shit PC that I can only run visual novels on. For the most part, this game plays how I remember it playing in 2001. All the good and bad elements of the game are still there: the camera is still garbage and the mech stages are still boring, but the Sonic/Shadow stages and some of the Knuckles/Rouge ones are still fun to play.

The soundtrack hasn’t been touched either, which is again both a good and a bad thing. I really like some of the music in SA2, especially Rouge’s smooth jazz lounge stuff and Shadow’s extra over the top angsty-sounding themes like “Supporting Me”. The Knuckles raps are still really bad, but then again they’re so bad that they’ve become jokes, especially the Pumpkin Hill theme — and in any case, it’s hard to imagine those Knuckles levels with any other BGM. If you’re a fan of Crush 40 and Jun Senoue’s guitar-playing then you’ll also really like Sonic’s character and stage themes. I’m not a big fan of the style, but “City Escape” is still catchy. Just try to get it out of your head when you’ve heard it once.

Hey Knuckles, when you’re done flailing around like a dumbass, let’s have a proper fight.

In the end, I still have mixed feelings about Sonic Adventure 2. It’s mostly fun to play, and even the mech sections aren’t horrible to get through aside from a couple of extremely overly long stages late in the game. On the other hand, I think it also represents a shift away from the old Sonic style that I grew up with as a kid and that I liked so much. The first Adventure also added new characters and a dumb plot, but it felt more in line with those older games somehow. With SA2, we’ve now got much more “adult” characters with the extra-edgy Shadow, who looks like he was designed to appeal to depressive loner kids (i.e. me) and Rouge, who looks like she was designed to appeal to furries on DeviantArt (i.e. not me, but I guess I get what they were going for if in fact they were going for that.) And the President is a character in the Sonic universe now for some reason. Sonic Heroes is where the series really lost me, and Sonic ’06 is where it gave me a giant middle finger, but in some ways SA2 feels like the beginning of that shift into unfamiliar territory.

But does it really matter that much? Sonic the Hedgehog as a whole has had plenty of ups and downs, and even though I’ve been mostly out of the loop with the Sonic series for the last two decades, I’ll probably always have a soft spot for it. I certainly will for Sonic Adventure 2, which in my view counts as one of those ups. At the very least, this game is certainly not the disaster some critics paint it as. I guess that’s not the most enthusiastic endorsement I could give the game, but I’d say it’s still worth trying out, even with its problems. 𒀭

 

* This isn’t the case for the ports of Sonic Adventure, however. The Gamecube port Sonic Adventure DX: Director’s Cut was supposed to be an upgrade, but it actually downgraded some of the graphics and added new glitches that weren’t present in the Dreamcast original. The PC version is even worse in this regard, taking the Gamecube version and compounding these problems, and unfortunately the SA offered on Steam is based on that one, making it a port of a shitty port of another shitty port. Thankfully, fans have created patches to fix many of these issues, doing far more for the game than Sega ever bothered to. For a comprehensive rundown of the port issue, see a video overview here (made by Cybershell, an excellent YouTube video maker who recently reappeared for the second time after years of hibernation) or go straight to the source to get all the details.

As far as SA2 goes, I also played it on both the Dreamcast and the Gamecube, and I don’t remember so many differences between the two versions aside from a few bits of added content like multiplayer battle mode, but I could be wrong about that. It’s been a long time, after all. I should also mention that the extra Gamecube content is offered on Steam as DLC. I didn’t buy it, but it’s only a few dollars as of this writing.

Summer cleaning game review special #5 and final: Princess Remedy in a Heap of Trouble

Now here’s a throwback, one that feels right for the last post in this series. It’s not a throwback to my childhood or anything, but just to 2016 when I looked at the free short RPG-looking shmup Princess Remedy in a World of Hurt. I liked that game enough that I bought the very cheap sequel, Princess Remedy in a Heap of Trouble, and then not unusually for me forgot about it for four years. But it’s been sitting in my Steam library all that time, and I’ve finally returned to play it. And hey, it’s a good game too, especially if you’re looking for a simple shoot-em-up to take up an hour or so.

The story is that Remedy, the nurse/princess* character from the last game, has been called back from her vacation to deal with another health crisis. Once again, her cures involve talking to sick people and fighting monsters that represent whatever’s wrong with them. These illnesses can be either physical or mental/emotional, so Remedy also works as a sort of therapist.

Your first patient

Also as before, during battle Remedy keeps firing her medicine shot automatically until all her enemies are dead, but she also has to dodge the enemies and their shots in order to survive. However, this time around she can get help from the people she cures by going on a “date” with them. It’s not a traditional date, though: her partner simply follows her around and gives her an extra active or passive ability in battle. Characters can also be freely dumped for new dates, which you might do just to see what they say when you ask them out. Princess Remedy is a heartbreaker.

But her dating around is justified, because she needs to defeat some serious bosses to proceed through the land. Several of them wait for the princess blocking off new areas until she gets the number of powerups in battle sufficient to face it.

Some of the bosses also look like fever dream JRPG monsters

Despite how they look, these Princess Remedy games are only a few years old as of this writing. I think they’re meant to resemble old Atari or Commodore 64 games, or maybe a game from one of those British systems like the ZX Spectrum that I’d never heard of until recently. These were well before my time, so I can’t say I have any nostalgia for the look of these games. But I like them anyway, which hopefully says something for their quality. They’re quite simple but fun, especially if you’re into free-movement shmup action.

They also have a bizarre sense of humor that I like. All the way back in part one of this series when I reviewed Qora, I mentioned I didn’t care for the “so random” humor being dumped on me in the game’s last ten minutes. Part of that was probably because I felt the game was boring to play, but part of it was also that it all seemed like an inside joke that I was never meant to understand in the first place. By contrast, the conversations you have with other characters in Princess Remedy are just kind of absurd. I don’t know if they really count as humor, but I find it a lot funnier than the self-conscious “look at how wacky we are” stuff in Qora. I don’t know, maybe there’s really no difference between the two and there’s something wrong with my brain.

Maybe the problem is that you should be in the ocean instead of on the dock

This is probably more than I needed to write about this game. I liked it. That’s simple enough. And like most of the other short games I’ve reviewed in this series, it’s only a few dollars to buy, so not too much of an ask.

Anyway, I hope this break from the usual was interesting. I still have a couple of other games that I’m currently playing through from that 1000+ game itch.io bundle. Not all completely good stuff either, but you’ll see when we get there — if it’s interesting enough, I’ll write about it whether I like it or not. Until then.

* And maybe a doctor too, but it’s not clear whether she has her medical degree. She’s not called Dr. Remedy after all. Then again, Mario isn’t a doctor but he calls himself one in Dr. Mario. I don’t think standard medical ethics rules apply in these games.

Summer cleaning game review special #4: A Short Hike

A Short Hike is another game I dug up in the pile of 1,000+ games in that itch.io bundle. I didn’t know it at first, but this game seems to have gotten a lot of attention for a small indie title since it was released last year. Makes sense: it has a lot more polish on it than most of the others I’ve played, with nice graphics and music and a small world to explore.

You play as Claire, a bird girl in a world of Animal Crossing-looking characters, on vacation on an island popular for its hiking trails. There’s not much direction at first; the only stated goal is to climb up a difficult trail that turns out to lead to the top of the mountain in the center of the map. Since she’s a bird, Claire can fly and glide, abilities that will help her get up the mountain, but there are also items that will improve those abilities. The key items to look out for are the golden feathers sold by a couple of characters and scattered around the island; these give Claire the added ability to climb up steep surfaces and to jump multiple times in midair.

Halfway up the mountain

In addition to the main objective of “get up the mountain” there are a bunch of fetch quests, races, and other challenges you can take on by talking to NPCs. The game doesn’t demand you do any of this stuff, though. If you feel like leisurely exploring your surroundings, you can just do that. There’s no way to die; Claire doesn’t take fall damage or drown or anything like that, and there’s no time limit. And the controls feel very natural, so it’s fun to just run around aimlessly in this world finding new characters and items.

A Short Hike feels like it was made to be approached this way. Maybe I’ve played a few too many indie games that looked innocent and fun at first but then had a big plot twist and turned into psychological horror or broke the fourth wall and started talking directly to me. So for a while part of me was bracing for something weird to happen, but nothing ever did. As much as I like some of those games, it’s fine that I could take this one at face value. A Short Hike isn’t trying to shock the player or make any big statement; it just feels made for relaxation, especially in the way the background music changes as you run and fly around the island to suit the mood of each area.

Don’t worry, this isn’t a big deal

A Short Hike goes for eight dollars on itch.io. Admittedly I didn’t pay that price, but it doesn’t seem like such a bad one considering what you get for it. I think it’s the kind of game I might just load every so often to run around in for a bit. If that’s not your thing, then you should definitely avoid it, because there’s not much else to do beyond the various side quests and exploration. But it might be therapeutic for you, especially in these shitty times.

Summer cleaning game review special #3: Radical Solitaire

Does that screen hurt your eyes? Well it did mine. This is Radical Solitaire, another game in that itch.io bundle. You might be wondering what’s so special about a solitaire game, especially one released this year (and not in 1982 as developer Vector Hat claims, the liar!) And especially one that at first doesn’t look that different from the standard game of Klondike that has come with every version of Windows since the dark ages, aside from having a title screen that changes to different eye-destroying color schemes every ten seconds.

Well, there are a few differences. The only reason I decided to check Radical Solitaire out among the many games in that bundle was that it claimed to be different in its tagline, which makes the promise: “never a bad deal, always a RAD DEAL!” So I downloaded it to see what was so rad about this solitaire game.

This deal doesn’t look that fucking rad to me

At first it just seemed like a regular game of Klondike with some weird sound effects, something like a robotic yelp every time I uncovered a new card. However, when I got stuck in my game, I went over to the GET RAD button. Clicking it didn’t do anything, but dragging an upturned card to it did:

Yes, this is a Klondike/Breakout hybrid. Any time you’re stuck, you can drag a useless card to that GET RAD button and play a game of Breakout to change it out for any still-hidden card. Every time one of the balls breaks through and hits the card, it changes, and each game can get quite chaotic — new balls are embedded in the wall and can be broken out and used to hit the card as well. There’s no guarantee that the card you’ll end up with at the end of your Breakout game will be useful, but you can play new games of Breakout as many times as you want to get something you can use. Hell, you can just play Breakout all day if you want. Radical Solitaire doesn’t seem to care if you ignore the solitaire part of it.

It’s definitely an interesting combination, and I think the basic idea works. The fucking color schemes still hurt my eyes, though to be fair the game does at least provide a night mode if you’re up playing this at 3 am. As for whether I’d recommend it, I don’t know. If the weird colors don’t bother you and you’re a huge fan of both solitaire and Breakout, you’ll probably like this. If not, it’s probably not for you. If it were free I’d say try it out either way just to experience how strange it is, but it does normally cost three dollars, so whether you want to spend that money is up to you (and if you have epilepsy, I guess you should be careful — I’m not sure how the flashing lights issue works, but this game does have those, though it looks like they can be turned off.) In any case, next time I’ll look at a game that hopefully won’t give me eyestrain.

A review of Atelier Meruru DX (PS4)

Years ago, to take my mind off of my extremely irritating studies, I bought a digital copy of Atelier Rorona Plus for the Vita. This was my very first Atelier game, and though I liked its unique style quite a lot, I never got around to playing any of the other Atelier games. Not until I dropped part of my tax refund this year on Atelier Meruru DX, a deluxe PS4 edition of the original Atelier Meruru: The Apprentice of Arland on the PS3.

I really like to think that some mom in a Gamestop bought her princess-obsessed kid this game based on the cover, but then it turns out to be all about a princess dealing with bureaucratic deadlines and resource management.

Meruru is the final game in the Arland trilogy, a sub-series of the much larger long-running JRPG Atelier series made by the Japanese developer Gust. While the Arland trilogy shares the central alchemy mechanic in common with the rest of the Atelier games, it also has its own identity distinct from the others.

But first a catch-up on the characters and plot. The protagonist, Merurulince Rede Arls, is the daughter and only child of Lord Dessier, the King of Arls. Somehow this tiny podunk town, population 1,000, counts as a kingdom and has a king with a giant stone castle, but we can’t question that too much. In any case, all that’s about to change.

Princess Merurulince, or Meruru to her friends, constantly shirks her royal duties to practice alchemy under the direction of her teacher, the master alchemist Totooria Helmold. Meruru doesn’t like being a princess, and she reasons that since their tiny kingdom is going to be merged into the far larger Arland Republic in five years, upholding her royal duties doesn’t matter that much anyway. Even so, her dad understandably isn’t too keen on his daughter studying a trade that requires hunting for ingredients in the wilderness, killing monsters, and working with potent poisons and explosive fuels.

However, Meruru won’t back down, so the king’s butler Rufus proposes a compromise that they both accept: if Meruru can use her alchemy skills to increase the population of Arls to 30,000 within three years, Dessier will allow her to become a full-time alchemist.

The stamp makes it official

So while Dessier sits his royal ass on his throne for three years, he leaves it up to his teenage daughter to actually do all the work to strengthen the kingdom. Some king he is, but there’s nothing to be done about it. Meruru (meaning the player) must find some way to increase the population of Arls to thirty times its original size while also maintaining her popularity among the people, otherwise it’s a game over and a bad end.

Thankfully, Meruru isn’t left alone in her efforts. She first gets help from an unexpected place: the castle itself, represented by Rufus. Though he calls himself a butler, he’s really more of a chief advisor and minister to Dessier, and he takes his job extremely seriously — a single needle can’t drop in Arls without Rufus knowing about it. He’s also serious about the development plan he proposed. When Meruru receives requests from the citizens to develop new patches of wilderness or to clear up monster-infested areas, Rufus creates plans for the princess to carry out that will variously open new areas for exploration, increase her popularity, and bump up the kingdom’s population. As Meruru fulfills these goals she also gains points that can be used to build new facilities, bringing even greater population increases and other various benefits.

And of course, the princess doesn’t have to go off gathering alchemy ingredients and killing monsters all by herself, because she has plenty of friends to help her. These include both new characters native to Arls and returning characters from the two previous Arland games, and some of them can be recruited to join Meruru’s party in battle while she explores the various fields, forests, and mountains of the surrounding country. Each of these characters has a different combat style: some are more defensive and supportive like Meruru’s childhood friend/chief maid Keina, while others are offensive like the warrior Lias. They also have very different attack ranges and skills, so no one character plays quite like another, which adds some nice variety (even if it means that some characters kind of suck in battle when compared to others.)

And then of course there are the other alchemist characters. The Arland series specifically features a chain of masters and apprentices continuing from game to game starting with Atelier Rorona, in which Rorona is the player character and apprentice (which you can read about in my very old, completely inadequate review of that game.) In the second game of the series, Atelier Totori, the main character Totori is apprenticed to Rorona, who has become a renowned master of alchemy, though still exactly as clumsy and ditzy as she’s always been.

Totori joining up to kill some wolves in the mountains

Carrying on that tradition, Meruru is now apprenticed to the master Totori. As such, a lot of Meruru’s time is going to be spent in the atelier crafting items using the ingredients she finds in the field and after battles while under Totori’s supervision. Though the Atelier games are turn-based JRPGs, they’re very different from the typical sort of JRPG, and part of this difference comes from the all-important alchemy mechanic. The alchemists in these games are special because they alone have the ability to craft and use items that do everything from heal allies’ wounds to destroying the shit out of enemies, making them potentially very powerful.

This unique gameplay feature adds quite a lot of variety to the game by letting the player mess around with ingredients that have different qualities and traits. One of the most fun aspects of the Atelier games is experimenting with new mixes to see what works and what doesn’t, and the games generally give the player leeway to try new things out. Because as with the other Atelier games, alchemy in Meruru isn’t a mere crafting system: it’s practically a science in itself. For a while, you’ll see traits passed on through synthesis that you have no idea of, there are so damn many of them. Players who commit themselves to getting alchemy down can make truly amazing items, however, and that’s part of the satisfaction that playing Meruru provided me.

Once the princess learns how to synthesize weapons and armaments, that mom realizes this game wasn’t quite what she expected

You might have noticed that I haven’t elaborated on the plot a whole lot beyond the basic premise, and that’s because there isn’t much of one. Certainly unusual for a JRPG, which tend to be very plot-heavy, but in Meruru there are no world-ending comets or plagues or any magic crystals to take away from an evil overlord. There isn’t exactly any villain in this game at all, at least not in the way we’d normally understand it. Meruru’s big goal is simply to be allowed to practice alchemy, nothing more or less, so that motivation is the central force driving the plot.

This is an element of Atelier Meruru that may put some players off, but I don’t really care about it. In fact, it’s nice to play a JRPG (hell, an RPG at all) for once that doesn’t have a great evil emperor pretending to be the big villain with a greater evil god or god-controlled lieutenant of the emperor behind him as the true villain. If you want that, you can get enough of it out of Final Fantasy, Fire Emblem, and as much as I like it yes, Megami Tensei too. The conflicts faced by the protagonists in the Arland series are much more personal — saving your small business from being closed by a corrupt government minister, finding your missing mother, and in the case of Meruru simply not fitting the mold you were intended for.

Offtopic but I like that thing Totori wears on her head, whatever that’s supposed to be

That’s not to say there is no villain at all in Atelier Meruru. I’m not talking about the boss battles you have to fight, or even about that lazy bastard Lord Dessier. No, the villain in Meruru is far greater than any of those: it’s the calendar, or more broadly time itself. When you’re given the three-year time limit arrangement at the beginning of the game, you might be thinking “Okay, three years. That’s a long time. This will be easy!” And then it’s very easy to start getting sidetracked by going on journeys through the countryside and freely doing alchemy. Of course, you’ll notice that time is ticking down as you proceed — traveling, gathering items and getting into battles in the field, and synthesizing items in the atelier all take parts of days or full days to complete depending on the size of the task in question. But no, three years is plenty of time, right?

Hey, look at this fortress we built all thanks to alchemy. We’re doing fine, Meruru! No need to worry about that stupid time limit.

When I played Rorona years ago, I remember Rorona having deadlines to fulfill certain tasks or else she’d get a bad end, but I don’t remember ever having to worry very much about meeting those deadlines. They seemed easy enough to fulfill while playing the game pretty naturally. So I went into Meruru with the same mindset, and it turned out to be the wrong one. It might be my fault for not realizing that it’s a lot easier to gauge your progress towards a one- or three-month deadline than it is towards a three-year one. Still, I got legitimately pissed off at one point when a certain event occurred that I wasn’t expecting, causing me to have to waste extra months running back and forth from a distant area to acquire an item necessary to a development quest. It’s a good thing I make several saves, because when this event occurred I didn’t even know how absolutely fucked I was until a few months later when I realized I couldn’t synthesize what I needed in time to meet the three-year population deadline. So I did something I normally don’t — I reloaded an old save.

Maybe some people would consider that cheap, but I don’t give a shit. I don’t pour hours into a game like this to get a bad end and get kicked back to the beginning of year one. I’m a busy man with a life outside of these games. Anyway, if the game wanted me to commit to a single straight-through run, it wouldn’t have given me multiple save slots. I highly suggest you use at least a few of them unless you’re the type to fully commit to one run without reloading no matter how badly you might screw up. I have respect for people who commit in that way, but hell if I’m one of them myself. The key in this case, as far as I’m concerned, is that the game gave me no reason to believe that I needed to take a certain action before an arbitrary date. Looking back, Meruru did drop a hint of what I should have done, but it turned out to be the kind of hint that you only see in retrospect. Or maybe I’m just an idiot. I have made a lot of terrible real life decisions, so perhaps that’s more likely.

I don’t know if nectar calms your nerves, but I might need a glass after that bullshit.

Without spoiling anything, my general advice to new players is to trust your instincts: if the game seems to be suggesting that maybe you should check something out and it won’t take you too much time to do so, go and check it out and gather what ingredients you can, because you might need them. If the game is giving you a tool to use, say by bringing a new shopkeeper into town who offers a unique service, you should try using it as soon as possible. You should also be fulfilling requests at the tavern on a regular basis, if possible with high-quality items, to keep Meruru’s popularity up and to make extra money, because you can never have too much of either.

Even with all the time pressure, it’s hard to get too mad at Meruru. The game is just too damn positive, cute, and friendly. A lot of this has to do with the game’s style. Every entry in the Arland trilogy features character and background art by the excellent Mel Kishida. The sheer amount of detail in the character portraits and CGs alone make the game worth looking at even for people who aren’t so into turn-based JRPG stuff. I’m not sure if he’s also responsible for the item illustrations, but whether it’s him or someone else, the work on those is even amazing, all the more so because there are hundreds of ingredients and synthesized items in the game.

Playing this game actually made me hungry at times. If only I knew how to bake, damn.

I also have to mention the game’s beautiful soundtrack. I don’t hear Atelier get mentioned too often when it comes to game soundtracks, and to be fair I haven’t mentioned it either, but now I’ll give these composers their dues, because both Rorona and Meruru, and I have to assume probably Totori as well, feature a wide variety of music that’s all suited for fighting in battle, gathering ingredients in the field, running around in town, and working in the atelier. From what I’ve heard of the following Dusk trilogy in the Atelier series, that quality of music continues on as well.

The game also gives the player plenty of time to relax with dialogue cutscenes that come up throughout the game without any prompting. A lot of these involve characters from the previous two games in the Arland series. Though it helps provide context if you’ve played those games, it’s not necessary to understanding what’s going on. I’m in a bit of a weird position since I’ve played the first game in the series but not the second, so while old faces returning from Rorona are familiar to me, those from Totori aren’t. But again, it doesn’t matter that much. In fact, if you start off playing Meruru before the others, you’ll be in the same position as Meruru herself, who’s meeting all these recurring characters aside from Totori for the first time.

Totori having a flashback to her own game.

Of course, all these character interactions wouldn’t be so fun if the characters were all two-dimensional cardboard cutout types, and they aren’t. Some of them are a bit exaggerated in their weird traits, but almost all of them feel more or less like people who you might know in real life (well okay, maybe not Pamela, but I did say almost.) Series with a lot of characters like this tend to give their secondary characters very little detail, usually with only one broad trait and absolutely nothing else, but the Arland games take that extra step to make them feel a little more fleshed out. Maybe because they contain dialogue and slice-of-life style chatter in place of that big serious plot.

This aspect of the series is more obvious with the main characters. The protagonist here is a great example — although Meruru gets along well with her teacher Totori, the two have very different personalities: while Totori is careful and meticulous, Meruru tends to jump into new, potentially dangerous situations without thinking too much about it. And this balance works: Meruru, despite not really wanting to be a princess, accepts her role as a leader for her people and uses alchemy to help them thanks in part to her more level-headed teacher’s guidance. The alchemists central to the games’ plots are all very different kinds of people, but they manage to work together to create amazing machines and objects to help their friends and fellow citizens, and isn’t that what life is all about?

So this might be a pretty obvious conclusion to this review since I’ve been mostly gushing over how good it is, but do I recommend Atelier Meruru? I do, especially if you’re into the kind of obsessive collecting that I am, because unlocking new items to create through alchemy fulfills that weird need I have very well. I don’t know how it measures up to any of the other games aside from Rorona, but it  measures up to that game pretty well even if I still feel like Meruru was quite a bit bullshittier in parts. But again, I’m pretty forgiving of that. Maybe too forgiving. It’s that damn bishoujo style Kishida draws — I would not have accepted this nonsense from a less cute game. There is also plenty of game content left after your three years is up assuming you don’t get a bad end, so that adds some slightly more relaxed time to enjoy the fruits of your labor. And as with the other Arland games you get some benefits from a new game plus, making successive runs quite a bit easier to manage if you decide to go after some of the game’s hardest challenges or see new endings.

As for which version of Meruru you should buy, the only one I’ve played is the DX version on the PS4, which runs well and contains some DLC costumes and recruitable characters who weren’t in the original. There are also DX versions on the Switch and PC, and those are probably fine as well, but not having played them I can’t say whether they might have some technical issues. If you’re the kind of true patrician who owns a Vita, there’s also Meruru Plus, which is probably also fine to play if it’s anything like Rorona Plus, but again, I can’t really say. Just buy whichever one suits you best.

I don’t own Meruru Plus, but here’s a screenshot from my very own Vita copy of Rorona Plus if you want a general comparison. Why do I have so much high-grade perfume? I don’t know, but Pamela seems happy about it.

As a side note, the Atelier games in general still seem to be in a bit of a weird niche area, though the series may be branching out to a new audience now. All of the more modern games have been localized, but the series as a whole seems to have gone largely unnoticed outside of the usual weeb circles up until the most recent game Atelier Ryza, which attracted some new players thanks to Ryza’s, let’s say “generous” character model. But so much the better. I know some people feel that bringing in more fans can “ruin” a series or whatever (just have a look at any Persona-oriented board for some of that) but more fans mean more exposure for the series in question, and that probably isn’t such a bad thing. It also means more people get to appreciate these quality works, and I don’t see how anyone could object to that. 𒀭

Summer cleaning game review special #2: WitchWay

Starting this series off with a negative review doesn’t seem right. So let’s fix that today, because I only have good things to say about today’s subject. WitchWay is another one of the games I found in that massive itch.io bundle I bought last month, and it’s definitely one of the more interesting ones in there. The premise is very simple: you play as a nameless witch girl, or maybe a student at a magic academy (she is wearing a school uniform-looking outfit after all) who falls down an extremely deep well. Somehow she manages not to break her neck or any bones and still has a lot of energy, so your goal is to reach the surface again. That’s all the plot you get, or at least all I’ve discovered so far. Because this isn’t any normal well: it’s full of chambers, doors, platforms covered in spiky plants that will kill you if you touch them, and lasers that will also kill you if you touch them. Just what the hell kind of well is this exactly?

The central map. That’s a damn complicated well

Luckily our protagonist soon finds her wand, and with that she’s able to remotely control movable blocks that she can use to press switches that open doors and remove obstacles in her way. WitchWay is divided into separate chambers containing progressively more difficult puzzles to solve to reach the exit and make it over to the bucket on a line that acts as an elevator to higher levels and eventually to the surface again. Some of these puzzles force you to get creative in your control of these blocks — after the first few chambers, simply moving them around won’t cut it. The game gives you all the tools you need, however, and it relies on you to use those to find your way out.

All this spiky shit will kill you, but you can ride certain blocks around to avoid traps and carry you to higher platforms

It’s not too difficult to get out of the well — you can even skip a lot of chambers and breeze your way out of there. You can also go the completionist route and find every secret the well has to offer. There are a few artifacts to collect as well as eight rabbits also trapped in the well that you can rescue by collecting them in your hat. All of these are naturally trapped behind walls of spiky plants and lasers that need to be blocked, avoided, or redirected, so a 100% run of this game will naturally take quite a bit longer than a straight play through, probably a few hours in total.

You probably won’t be able to bear leaving these poor rabbits trapped in this well anyway

I enjoyed my time with WitchWay. The puzzles were pretty rewarding to figure out, and there’s a lot of polish on the game — a good-looking pixel graphic style that reminds me of early 90s 16-bit platformers and nice background music. It only sells for a few dollars on itch.io as well, which I think is a good value for what you get here. If you need a plot in every game you play, you might be disappointed, but I don’t think this sort of game really needs one. Though the developers probably could have easily added one. But if you really want one, you can make it up yourself. Maybe you’re a Harry Potter fan and this is a background character from the series having her own adventure. Or maybe you’re a Touhou fan and any blonde witch girl character makes you think of Marisa Kirisame, and she’s been dropped into this well by a bored Yukari and needs to find her way back to Gensokyo. It would certainly explain how she can fall hundreds of feet onto a stone floor and not be hurt at all.

Enough of my nonsense. I’ll be following the creators, the four listed here — I look forward to seeing what they might come up with next.

Does fun belong in “serious” video games?

I don’t know if I’ve seen an upcoming release as controversial as The Last of Us Part II in a while. It’s received almost entirely excellent reviews from the professional game press, who are declaring it a triumph of storytelling and a deep, affecting experience. Meanwhile, consumer opinion seems to be split — people are somehow already bitterly arguing about the game’s quality even though the damn thing isn’t out for another week. Granted, we have the first game to compare it to, but it still seems hasty to call the sequel a piece of shit on that basis, or even to call it a masterpiece based merely on the word of a bunch of professional reviewers.

I won’t be playing TLOU2. Not because I hate Naughty Dog or anything; I don’t care about them one way or the other, and I don’t really have it out for any game developer at all for that matter. Based on what I’ve seen, the game just doesn’t interest me. However, there is a question raised by all the back and forth fighting over TLOU2 that I do find interesting, and one that I was already thinking about before this controversy blew up — should a good game be fun to play? The reviews of this game I’ve read pretty consistently describe a miserable experience fighting through and hiding from both undead and living human threats and requiring the player to make potentially morally uncomfortable decisions. Yet those reviews also declare TLOU2 a triumph, with one guy comparing it to Schindler’s List and causing yet another uproar for it.

It goes on in this fashion

Setting aside Mr. Cannata’s weirdly narrow definition of “everything” being John Wick when it comes to games (I’m currently playing a game about a princess who makes items with alchemy, beats up dragons, and eats pie with her friends and it’s not much like John Wick1) I find his view interesting. The game wasn’t “fun” at all, but it was still an amazing experience. This isn’t a new take on video games, either. See this 2015 piece from Vice titled “The Value of Video Games That Aren’t ‘Fun'” that expresses a very similar view. The idea seems to be that a work of art that puts the player through hell as Cannata writes of TLOU2 can be inspiring and profound, and that such a game’s lack of fun elements can even work in its favor in that sense.

I don’t want to completely dismiss this idea. If video games are an artistic medium, and I think they are, then they can certainly affect the player emotionally and challenge their views of the world just as some of the great novels, plays, films, and music out there have done. To pull an example straight out of that Vice article, 1984 was a very depressing novel to read, but I thought it also totally achieved its goals in getting the reader to really care about a few people living in this unbelievably oppressive society. If a novel like that weren’t kind of hard to read, it would defeat the purpose. The same goes for Schindler’s List for that matter — a film about trying to save people during the Holocaust can’t really be called “fun” either, but it is profound, emotionally affecting, and very worth watching. So then why can’t a game also be depressing and hard to play, therefore making it way more profound and effective in challenging the player’s views of the world?

I see a few problems with the views expressed by these critics and writers. One is that they seem to be ignoring interactivity, an element of video games that isn’t shared by older media. When you sit down to watch a movie or read a book, you don’t expect to take an active part in it; you’re just taking in a story. With a game, however, unless it’s a visual novel or something similar [edit: and one without much player input either, like a kinetic novel] there’s an expectation that you’re going to get to interact and have some gameplay elements. So if you’re making a game an absolute misery to get through, you’re not just asking for the audience to passively sit and watch or read — you’re asking them to take an active part in struggling through a difficult mess for the payoff. That’s quite a bit more to ask.

A game can’t put a player in a rough situation and also be fun, it’s never been done before

Even that can make for a good game when done right, however. The Silent Hill games gave you pretty much normal-strength humans to control while fighting through and often hiding from vicious monsters. Plowing through enemies would be a lot easier and maybe more fun in some sense, but that’s not the sort of experience those games were meant to deliver. And despite all that, the Silent Hill series is widely beloved (up through Silent Hill 3 at least.) Even though they didn’t quite empower their player characters, putting them in extremely dangerous situations with scant protection and pretty average fighting ability, they also let you work out alternative ways to get through those situations when brute force was not going to work so well. A challenge like that can be fun in itself, and I’d argue the good Silent Hill games achieved that balance.

However, there’s another problem stacked on top of the first. If a game is going to put the player through any kind of hell at all, it has to deliver a payoff at the end that’s worth the effort spent to get there. Otherwise, it’s probably going to leave a rightly frustrated and annoyed player. If a game has something truly profound to say about humanity or life that’s worth the effort it takes to make it through its challenges, then it certainly could be worth playing, just as I think a book like 1984 is worth reading or a film like Schindler’s List is worth watching. If the payoff ends up being some trite message that most every person on Earth over the age of five already knows, however, then by contrast it won’t be worth playing unless the gameplay’s fun on some level. At that point, I’m far better off instead playing a game that’s fun and has no message at all.

I’m pretty sure I wasn’t responsible for whatever this is.

Finally, there’s the problem of player agency. If a game’s going to take me to task for making the player character do something it perceives as wrong, it had damn well better give me options. Even though it doesn’t tie into its plot, I remember the old Thief games doing a good job of this: on higher difficulties the games usually forbade you from killing enemies in favor of knocking them out with your blackjack or with sleeping gas devices, the idea being that the protagonist Garrett is a professional thief, not a murderer. This was more difficult but always possible to achieve, and it made a no-kill run of a mission very satisfying to pull off on the harder levels. I think this element of player choice leading to a rewarding feeling was also a big part of why the indie RPG Undertale did so well.

However, a game that essentially forces the player to do something it deems bad only to chew them out for it afterward causes a disconnect between game and player. A game can’t simply make the protagonist do whatever it wants in the same way and with the same consequences as a novel, film, or other non-interactive work can. If I’m being put on rails and shoved down a track, you can’t make me feel bad for whatever happens as a result.2

Again, I don’t have any particular feelings about The Last of Us or Naughty Dog; I can’t and don’t plan on making any judgment of the game, and it’s no skin off my back if it ends up doing well or poorly. And after all, the market has room for all kinds of games. Some of those kinds I don’t especially care for, but why should that bother me? The same is true of every artistic medium on Earth. I just find some of the views expressed by professional reviewers who are praising it to be not very well-considered. By suggesting that this game is both profound and emotionally affecting and “not fun” and really emphasizing that “not fun” aspect, there seems to be an implication that a fun game can’t also be profound and emotionally affecting in the same way, and that doesn’t make a god damn bit of sense to me. 𒀭

1 It’s Atelier Meruru DX for the PS4, and now I’ve totally ruined the surprise when I post my review of it soon.

2 I recently bought a massive bundle of over a thousand games on itch.io. The deal is still on for a couple of days so check it out; the $5 minimum goes to the NAACP and a bunch of bail funds, which I think are pretty damn good causes. Anyway, one of the games included is 2064: Read Only Memories, a game that’s been sharply criticized for doing just this sort of obnoxious “railroad the player and then try to make them feel bad” thing. I might just have to see that for myself since I own it now. I did find the demo pretty irritating, but I shouldn’t judge it based on that alone.

However, the bundle also contains Dreaming Sarah and OneShot last I checked, and I know for a fact that those are both well worth playing.

A review of Ame no Marginal (PC)

It’s another visual novel review, this time of Ame no Marginal (also titled Rain Marginalame means “rain” anyway, so it’s basically the same title, but since it officially goes by its halfway-translated version I’ll keep using that one even if it’s awkward.) This work came out in 2015 and was developed by Stage-nana, the same people responsible for the famously melancholic VN Narcissu. Like Narcissu, Ame no Marginal seems to be pretty well regarded, but my feelings about it are complicated.

First, I may as well get this part out of the way: this review is going to spoil the whole plot along with the ending. Ame no Marginal is another kinetic novel like Planetarian, so aside from the art and music, there’s nothing to talk about other than the story. But unlike with Planetarian, I can’t give it an unqualified recommendation. Then again, I also can’t not recommend Ame no Marginal, because there are things I liked about it, and it’s entirely possible that the aspects of it that bothered me won’t bother you. It’s also possible that I missed some important plot points somehow that would have cleared up the issues I had with the work if only I’d seen them.

But I doubt that too. I wish I could find a way to express those doubts without giving away too much, but all I can say without doing so is that although the game’s premise and characters were interesting, its ending was abrupt and unsatisfying and didn’t make a lot of sense. To explain why I feel that way, I naturally have to get into the story, so let’s do that now.

Ame no Marginal begins in a rainy world consisting only of a flat landscape of paved ground and a large body of water nearby. It also has exactly one resident: a young girl, who we see peering through a magical portal watching a man in the game’s initial scene. This world seems to be separated from ours, and it also seems that the girl looking through the portal can’t reach our world, as she wonders out loud about whether the man remembers her at all.

The story then switches perspective back to our world, to the nameless male protagonist and other main character of the game. We can guess that this is likely the guy the girl was watching in the opening scene. It’s Monday and he’s on his way to a job he hates, living a life he finds pointless. This is confirmed when instead of going directly to his office, he takes the elevator in his building to the seventh floor, the top one, walks out to the roof, climbs over the fence around it and hangs over the edge.

Our protagonist isn’t intent on suicide: he doesn’t jump from the roof, but climbs back over the fence and returns inside. As he puts it, while he doesn’t want to die, he also doesn’t want to continue living. This climbing over the fence is merely a reminder that he can end it at any time, which he claims brings him some comfort and lets him make it through the rest of the week.

The next day, the protagonist returns to work and gets on the elevator again. This time, however, he notices a button for the eighth floor that wasn’t there before. But didn’t this building only have seven floors yesterday? Protag can’t resist pressing that 8 to see what’s going on. When the elevator doors open, he steps out into the rainy world we saw in the game’s first scene.

Protag is naturally shocked to see this seemingly endless landscape of paved floor below and a gray, rainy sky above, all on top of the building he works in. But as he’s exploring, he runs into a young girl, who welcomes him to her world.

This seems to be the same girl we saw in that first scene, but something’s off. Her personality is a bit immature as you’d expect from a kid her age; even though she’s all on her own in this world, we learn she’s only ten. In the intro, though, the same girl seemed to be quite serious, and even her voice was more mature-sounding. In any case, protag hasn’t seen what we have, and while he’s surprised to see another person and even more surprised to see a mere kid living here alone, he accepts it and starts asking her about this mysterious world.

The girl, who calls herself Rin (another female VN main character named Rin; there are really a lot of them) claims that this is a world where time stands still. The rain never stops, so she takes shelter under a pavilion that seems to be the only structure in this place. There’s also a body of water nearby, a sort of river that flows up and downstream, but the river also apparently has no opposite bank, or at least not one that Rin could find. Rin explains that she sometimes find items from the “real world” floating downstream, so she does her best to salvage useful things, even clothes to wear. No worries about running out of food, though — because time stands still for her, she says she’s never suffered hunger or even thirst in this place.

Protag is naturally very confused by what the hell he’s walked into. One thought comes naturally to him: he’s died without realizing it and this is the afterlife. Rin doesn’t think that’s the case, however. She even tells him that two people normally can’t exist in this world and that he’ll be “sent back” after three days, something that’s happened to visitors other than him — even if he were to refuse to leave, it would happen automatically. She also tells him he can leave by entering the elevator again, but she seems happy when he says he’ll stay for a while, presumably excited to have company after being alone in this world for so long.

After this initial meeting, Rin and protag to go sleep under the pavilion and the scene ends, sending the player back to the scene selection screen where a new entry titled “Rin” has been unlocked. This one takes us far back into the past, seemingly into Rin’s past in the real world, where she and her older sister were Shinto priestesses in a secluded shrine in the mountains. The sisters have no other family and were adopted by this shrine to carry a burden — to shoulder a “debt” to the gods as they put it. The older sister is forced to live an austere life, eating only once a day, bathing in cold water every morning, and following a vow of silence, one so strict that her younger sister has never heard her voice.

Rin is naturally upset by watching her sister endure this lifestyle, even though she willingly carries it out in order to perform what she sees as her duties to the shrine and its gods. When her sister’s health starts to decline as a result, Rin becomes angry with the shrine and even with its gods. And she falls into despair when the head priest of the shrine tells her that her sister will soon die and that she’ll have to carry the same burden of constant silence and self-deprivation afterwards, one that must last without stopping for 333 years, three months, and three days, always with a substitute available to take over when the priestess carrying the burden dies.

Her older sister’s life ends not from illness, but rather from a more violent kind of sacrifice. The head priest says that they can’t risk her breaking her vow of silence while she slowly dies, so he and his guards kill her while her younger sister’s mouth is gagged to ensure the proper transfer of the burden. It’s here we learn that the older sister’s name is Rin — the younger one who we meet in the rainy world is never properly named, but has adopted her sister’s name perhaps to carry on her memory.

This new Rin decides that she now doesn’t believe in these supposed gods who let her sister die without helping her. Even so, Rin also resolves to live her sister’s old life and continue paying the debt if only to not let her sacrifice go to waste. However, one night a guard rushes into her room and tells her to flee because the shrine is being attacked and all its priests and staff slaughtered by armed men. Rin runs away into the mountains, still maintaining her silence despite the fact that the shrine is being destroyed along with the head priest she hated. A mere girl like her doesn’t last very long in the cold mountains, and after going without food for three days, she lies down and decides it would be better to die, not wanting to risk a return into town or to what might have been left of the shrine.

After this backstory section ends, we’re thrown back to the scene selection screen, where two new scenes have been unlocked. The middle part of Ame no Marginal proceeds down two story paths, each part of which has to be completed before continuing to read so that the player alternates between them. One path returns the perspective to our modern-day protagonist as he tries to figure out exactly where he is and why both he and Rin are there. When night falls in this world, a completely different side of Rin, or perhaps a different entity altogether, appears. In contrast with her childish daytime self, this Rin seems distant, bitter, and a lot more mature than you’d expect from her apparent age. Despite her cold attitude towards the protag in these nighttime sections, she does answer his questions about the rainy world more clearly than she does during the day, though there still seems to be a lot she doesn’t understand about it.

Also in contrast to her daytime self, this Rin demands that the protag hurry back to the elevator and leave. He refuses to do so, at least for now, reasoning that he’ll be automatically sent back in three days anyway. And in any case, he decides that he might prefer the boredom of the rainy world to his own life in the real one, even if he can’t stay for good. This version of Rin keeps trying to convince him to leave when they talk again the next time, but she also seems to accept that he’s not going to leave of his own free will that easily.

The other story track follows the same girl after what she first supposes is her death in the mountains. As the reader might have guessed, instead of dying, she wakes up in the rainy world and meets its sole inhabitant: a woman who simply calls herself “Lady.” Lady welcomes this girl into her world and gives her essentially the same tutorial that our modern-day protagonist got from Rin: this world only allows for one resident and will kick visitors out after three days. However, Lady is quite mysterious. Despite claiming she doesn’t know why this world exists or who created it, she has the ability to control the flow of water around her.

The girl, who I’ll just keep calling Rin, is amazed by all of this, but there’s a more pressing matter: upon entering this world, she broke her vow of silence by yelling curses at the gods for what they did to her sister. She relates her whole story to Lady, who seems sympathetic but tells her it’s still probably for the best if she leaves this world through a hole in the ground that acted as her portal in. Rin, like nameless protag, is hesitant to go back right away and reasons she’ll be sent back automatically in three days, and she’ll almost certainly die when she gets back in any case. By the end of her stay, however, Lady admits that she’s lied: the one who’s sent back after three days is the one who’s been here longest, and Lady also admits that she’s used force in the past to remove previous visitors so she could remain in solitude for her own reasons.

Lady is seemingly done with her stay, though, because on the appointed third day, she takes Rin to the hole in the ground only to jump in herself, but not before telling Rin that she can still complete the 333-year vow of silence burden in this world if she feels like it, and that it probably will be meaningful somehow. After this talk and a promise that she’ll return one day, Lady drops through the hole and leaves Rin alone in the rainy world.

We then follow Rin as she searches for and finds both exit and entrance portals to the real world in the endless river near the pavilion, and as she discovers to her despair that she can’t use them to leave. By this point, Rin has lived in this world without any visitors or company for several hundred years. Along the way, she’s also managed to complete that 333-year vow of silence, but seemingly without any result. Rin reasons that because she still resents the gods for what they’ve done to her sister, they will continue to keep her in solitude. As a bit of a bonus, Rin does end up developing the same water manipulation powers as Lady, but there’s not much point to having them if there’s nothing to actually do with them, so they don’t bring Rin any happiness.

The two stories now rejoin, with nighttime version Rin finally telling protagonist that he needs to get the hell back to the elevator on the third night or else he’ll be trapped in this world. He reluctantly gets on and returns to his old life, seemingly forgetting about the rainy world and Rin and looping us back into the prologue. However, who happens to show up at this point but Lady! She tells Rin that she’s the one who purposely selected and sent protagonist to the rainy world for Rin to meet, and also that she should jump into the elevator and chase after him for some reason. Turns out the real world is a bit boring to Lady, who wants several hundred more years of solitude to practice her water magic skills. So Rin finally leaves, and we get to the game’s epilogue.

Wait, what?

And somehow, Rin’s now a student riding the same train as protagonist. They end up accidentally running into each other and meeting again, with a strong hint that Rin remembers who protag is and even that protag has some memory of Rin. Then they walk off on the same street to school and work together and the game ends.

So I just recounted the entire plot of this VN, something I didn’t intend on doing when I set out to write this post. However, it’s hard to talk about Ame no Marginal otherwise because the whole thing’s so weird, and not entirely in a good way.

But let’s start with the good stuff. I liked the premise of an isolated place like the rainy world that may or may not be meant as a sort of divinely mandated time-out. This worked as a hook to get me interested in the game. The story of Rin and her sister is also very tragic, but not so tragic that it’s unbelievable: some people have greatly suffered in the name of maintaining tradition in the real world, and the priests of the temple are depicted as committing these cruelties because they genuinely believe they must, not simply because they’re evil (though you could certainly argue that pushing this debt owed to the gods onto young orphaned girls who have no choice in the matter is a real asshole thing to do.)

The head priest acts like enough of a shithead in this scene alone that I don’t feel bad for him getting killed later on.

I also felt a strong connection with the male lead at the very beginning of the game, even if he’s one of those typically faceless VN protagonists. His section of the prologue, especially when he says to himself that he doesn’t want to die, but also doesn’t want to live — this is an expression of depression that made a lot of sense to me. Even if those two feelings sound contradictory, they really aren’t. And the game does try to tie the protagonist’s disappointment with his life into the plot when he talks to nighttime Rin about the possibility of staying in the rainy world and leaving the real one behind for good. No amount of insisting “but life is a gift” or “you have so much to live for, you should treasure every moment” helps in a state like that, and that’s something Ame no Marginal seems to get.

Even when the protagonist comes to believe that the real world is worth living in because it’s dynamic, unlike the static life of the rainy world, that’s not necessarily a resolution of the feelings expressed at the beginning of the VN. I see it as more of a coping mechanism for getting through life, and that’s a lot more realistic than having the story simply resolve his depressive feelings if that’s what they’re meant to be. So while Ame no Marginal doesn’t fully address the protag’s situation, I feel it does at least acknowledge it.

Going to work with a sense of dread and bitterness, that’s something I can relate to. Not anymore thankfully but good God is it miserable.

This makes it all the more disappointing that so many questions are left hanging. One of the more obvious ones is the nature of the rainy world itself. Neither the protagonist nor Rin learn why it exists, whether it was created by some gods to punish human souls or it simply exists for no reason at all. Even Lady, the self-professed queen of the rainy world, seems to have no idea about its origins. This is one question that I don’t think the story needed to answer, and I even prefer this ambiguity.

However, there are other mysteries that should have been better addressed, like the nature of the difference between the cheerful, childlike daytime Rin and the mature, serious nighttime Rin. She’s clearly putting on some kind of act for the protagonist during the day, but to what end? Maybe it’s to disarm him and make him feel comfortable, but then why bring out “nighttime Rin” at all? This double personality issue is never explained in the VN, and it’s one that really should have been because it has a direct bearing on the characters and plot. It’s also quite hard to believe that several hundred years of isolation didn’t drive Rin completely insane. She’s clearly angry, bored, and distressed for a long time even before protag arrives, but she’s still somehow in full control of her mind even after centuries of walking through a seemingly endless body of water. Sure, she doesn’t have to eat or drink and never ages, but the mental and emotional toll of such a life would have to be extreme.

Maybe all the isolation is supposed to be where Rin’s dual personality comes from? But it still doesn’t really explain that.

There’s also the matter of the ending. It’s as if writer Tomo Kataoka couldn’t think of a good way to get these characters out of the jam they were stuck in, Rin still in the rainy world and protagonist sent back to the life he hates living, so a happy ending is pulled out of nowhere. Lady somehow finds a way back into the rainy world, presumably by taking the same elevator protagonist did (in fact, she shows up very briefly in the elevator near the start of the story, leaving it when protag is getting on, so at least that much is set up.) It’s very convenient that she doesn’t mind going back into isolation for a while, and it’s even more convenient that Rin was somehow able to get set up as a student when protagonist meets her at the end, presumably with a family and friends and everything. How the hell is that supposed to work? Or maybe she’s living under a bridge and pretending to go to school.

There’s a sort of answer to this in the developer notes: Kataoka says that Ame no Marginal is actually a prequel to the light novel series Mizu no Marginal (or Water Marginal, which sounds a lot like Water Margin but probably has nothing to do with it.) Since the VN is a prequel, presumably Rin and maybe the protagonist are characters in it, so there had to be an ending that connected the two. So maybe this bizarre ending is explained in Mizu no Marginal, but I don’t care. I shouldn’t be required to read a sequel to understand what happened at the end of the preceding work: the work should stand on its own in that sense. Kataoka’s notes imply that the ending was thrown together out of necessity, so maybe there’s no other explanation to be had anyway.

And what are Rin and protagonist even going to do now, hang out? She’s a water-bending former Shinto priestess who’s either ten or several hundred years old depending on whether you count her time in the rainy world, and he’s an office worker in his 20s or something. What the hell are they going to talk about? It’s all a bit weird. Maybe the light novels answer this question?

I still wonder exactly what idea Ame no Marginal was trying to express. It seems like it was trying to express something, but the message is obscure if it’s there. Is it a message not to give up on life if you’re in despair? That’s nice and positive, but I don’t think the story bears it out that well, not if the solution it proposes is being transported to an otherworldly plane of isolated existence and meeting a new friend who teaches you the value of life in the real world. And especially not when it pulls a happy ending out of its ass. It’s certainly not an issue with the novel’s length, either: when I compare it to the other short VNs I’ve read like Planetarian and Saya no Uta that have coherent, satisfying endings, the lack of such an ending in Ame no Marginal feels all the weirder.

Even so, like I said before, I can’t quite not recommend Ame no Marginal. The art is nice, and the soundtrack suits the atmosphere of the game very well. There’s a lot to like in the premise. The story is even pretty emotionally affecting in a few places. While its nonsense ending is definitely a problem, there is a lot of craft in this VN, and it seems like it was created simply to tell a story that the writer wanted to tell rather than one calculated to sell as many units as possible.

A gray, depressing game about characters who are giving up on life doesn’t sound calculated to be a big seller to me, at least.

In any case, I think whether you’d find the game worth your time probably has to do with how much or little this kind of ending affects your experience — if you’re the type who enjoys the journey more than the destination, maybe — and with how well you connect with these characters. I don’t regret playing Ame no Marginal despite my issues with it, but your time with it may be very different if you choose to play it.

Then again, I just spoiled the entire plot for you if you haven’t played it yet. So who did I write this review for? I have no idea. Maybe I wrote it for myself. Maybe I need a few hundred years in the rainy world to sort myself out. 𒀭

A review of The Expression: Amrilato (PC)

I wasn’t kidding when I wrote a while back that I had a bunch of visual novels to get through. When I wrote that post about visual novels still being a bit of a niche thing in the West, though, I wasn’t thinking of The Expression: Amrilato. No, this game beats all the rest in terms of its niche-ness: it’s a yuri romance visual novel that teaches you Esperanto.

What? Yes, this is a real thing. I first heard about Amrilato when Valve briefly refused to stock it on Steam for depicting a romance between two students, the main characters Rin and Ruka (if you didn’t know this was a yuri VN at first, the cover says everything.) They soon thought better of it and put it back up in their store. It’s an all-ages VN anyway, so I’m not sure what the fuss was to begin with — by the same logic, an adaptation of Romeo and Juliet would be banned from the platform, which seems stupid enough.

In any case, this minor incident got Amrilato more press than it would have received otherwise, because it’s how I learned about the game. And after that I filed it in the back of my mind to play, and now I’ve played it. And now I’ll write what I think of it in a very long-winded way, because I have a lot to say about it.

First, an introduction: this is our protagonist, Rin. Rin is a hardworking, cheerful Japanese high school student who’s also pretty thick and often says and does things without thinking. One day, Rin buys a taiyaki (something I’ve never had myself, but I’ve heard a lot about, sounds like a kind of sweet pastry?) and eats it while on the street. Then she blacks out and wakes up on more or less the same street, only now the sky is pink and everyone’s speaking in a language she can’t understand.

Rin is understandably freaked out by this and suspects her taiyaki was drugged, and she goes to cry in a corner, where she’s approached by a girl in an impossibly frilly outfit who tries to talk to her in that mysterious language. Rin is still frustrated, but she does her best to communicate with this girl, whose name is Ruka. Fortunately, Ruka knows a little Japanese and invites Rin back to her house after establishing that she needs help.

Naturally, Rin feels like she’s in the dark at this point — her phone isn’t getting a signal, everyone’s speaking this weird language, and why the hell is the god damn sky pink, even at night? However, she manages to sort herself out in an impressively short time after trying and failing to find her parents’ house. While the city she’s currently in is very similar to her own, there are many subtle differences, and it soon becomes clear that Rin has somehow entered an alternate-universe version of her hometown. Which means no getting back to her family or friends, at least for the time being.

Yeah, yuri vibes from the very beginning

Thankfully, Rin is in Ruka’s care. She soon learns that she’s considered a vizitanto, or visitor, and Ruka takes her to a kind of combination library/government office to get a special ID from her own mentor, the librarian Rei Arbaro. Rei explains that Rin is now something like a resident foreigner, a status that comes with privileges like discounts at stores and a special allowance. Since Rin’s not the first vizitanto to accidentally fall into this dimension, the government has a system in place to care for people in her position until they can get on their feet and be productive members of society.

This is where the game really begins and where we’re introduced to the first of the two major aspects of Amrilato: the Esperanto. As a vizitanto, Rin has to learn Juliamo, the common language in this world. Aside from a few vocabulary and grammar differences and a customized alphabet thrown in to make things feel more other-dimensional, Juliamo is the same language as Esperanto. The player can switch between this fictional Juliamo alphabet and the Latin alphabet used to write the real-life language, but it seemed like a waste to not use the custom alphabet, so I stuck with that.

And naturally, since Rin is learning Juliamo, we’re learning it along with her. As the story progresses with typical dialogue and narrative stuff, Rin gets presented with language lessons that she has to complete as part of her new education. A lot of these involve one-on-one sessions with either Ruka or Rei, and you get to take quizzes and exams at the end of most of these lessons, an experience that will surely remind you of your school days if you’re past them now like I am. These exam sections can be deactivated in settings, but they’re turned on by default, and I get the impression that the developer SukeraSparo intended for the player to actually take the lessons and learn the words, expressions, and grammar rules that they teach.

I was barely familiar with Esperanto before picking up Amrilato. All I knew is that it was a constructed language, or a language created purposely and not developed naturally over thousands of years like English or Japanese. It has an interesting history — the creator, L. L. Zamenhof, was a Polish Jewish eye doctor who in the 1870s came up with the idea for an international language because he thought it would put an end to war. This unfortunately didn’t happen (a sad end to that part of the story, especially considering the fate of his family, still in Poland at the start of World War II) but Esperanto has gone on to become the world’s most widely spoken constructed language.

One of the most interesting parts of playing Amrilato was in seeing Rin’s thought process while learning Juliamo. Even though she’s the player character, her experience with the language and mine were very different. A big part of this difference has to do with the origins of Esperanto: from the basics I learned of it by playing this game, most of it’s derived from existing Romance and Germanic languages, seemingly with more of a lean towards Romance. So if you speak or you’ve studied languages like Spanish, Portuguese, French, or Italian, a lot of this Juliamo will be familiar to you right away. Even someone who only speaks English and has no familiarity with the Romance languages will probably pick up on some of the vocabulary and grammar by instinct because of the strong historical Romance influence on English (it’s a Germanic language, but we’ve also got those Latin roots and the additions from Norman French after William the Bastard Conqueror’s invasion of England.)

Aside from its loanwords, Japanese has barely any relation to these or the other Indo-European languages that form the basis of Esperanto, and so root words and grammatical concepts that might sound natural to a westerner may not be so intuitive to a native Japanese speaker. The lesson sections of Amrilato consist largely of Rin’s thoughts about what she’s studying, and she’s often forced to try to remember her meager English knowledge that she picked up at school to help her understand Juliamo. Things as seemingly simple as the sounds “si” and “zi” are a bit hard for Rin because those sounds don’t exist in Japanese, instead becoming “shi” and “ji.” However, Rin’s stubborn, hardworking nature comes out in these sections, especially when she pushes herself to practice her Juliamo on Ruka, Rei, and strangers when she’s out buying groceries and running errands, and so she manages to push through it.

A lot of Rin’s struggles with Juliamo made me think of my own efforts at learning Japanese. I’m not immersed in the language like Rin is, but it couldn’t be more different from my native language of English, so I find myself asking some of the same types of questions Rin asks when she’s taking Juliamo lessons. Questions like “how the fuck am I supposed to tell when 人 is pronounced nin or jin in a compound kanji?” Questions that sometimes seem to have no answer other than “that’s just how it is” or “you just have to remember it.” These are aspects of language that native speakers grow up with and take for granted, but to the adult brain (or near-adult, in Rin’s case) they can’t simply be absorbed. Fortunately, with Esperanto/Juliamo being a constructed language, most of its aspects seem to have real explanations that aren’t “that’s just how it developed over time, so remember it.” My native language is notorious for shit like that. Sorry to all the ESL students out there.

amrilato-4

Not the face you want to see when you make food for someone

This is where the language-learning aspect of Amrilato connects with its other major aspect: the yuri romance. Rin is very obviously attracted to Ruka from just about the beginning, and as the game goes on, this attraction shifts from being about Ruka’s looks and style to being about the connection that’s grown between them. Even though Ruka is younger than Rin, she takes on the role of Rin’s language tutor and legal guardian, and her mature attitude sometimes makes her seem older, creating an unusual sort of teacher-student relationship. Ruka soon tells Rin that she wants to learn more Japanese, and so each becomes a teacher to the other.

Eventually, these feelings turn romantic, though we initially only see that from Rin’s perspective. At first, the game throws in some hints that Ruka might be interested too, or that she wouldn’t at least be not interested in a romantic relationship with another girl, and even these parts play with language in interesting ways. Early on, for example, Rin buys what looks like a fashion magazine from a vendor that’s wrapped in plastic with the title “Blanka Lilia.” Rin is too thick to get it, but usually when a magazine like that is wrapped in plastic there’s a reason. And anyone who knows the origin of the Japanese term yuri that describes themes of lesbian love/desire in fictional works knows that the same word 百合 also means “lily” and can probably work out that “blanka lilia” means “white lily” and guess at the magazine’s contents.

amrilato-3

When Ruka accidentally gets a look at those contents, she gets red in the face, which suggests a lot more than just indifference. After this episode, there are a few others that are also suggestive, and a lot of Amrilato consists of Rin wondering how Ruka feels about being with another girl, and specifically about being with her, and agonizing over whether she should say anything. The language gap between the pair makes things more difficult, and when Rin finally confesses her love to Ruka, she uses a Juliamo phrase that Rei taught her and that translates into something like “I’m thirsty for you” with some unintended lewd/embarrassing implications. Rei also likes to tease the two students and knows exactly what’s going on even before they do, so her addition into the mix as a kind of older sister/mentor makes things easier in some ways and more complicated in others.

Complicating things even further is the character of Rin herself. She’s stubborn and hardworking, but she also totally lacks self-confidence. By acting before she thinks, Rin ends up getting herself into awkward social situations, but then she gets carried away thinking of what a grave mistake she’s committed and imagines outcomes that are a thousand times worse than what could realistically occur. She also constantly thinks poorly of her own intellect, looks, and general desirability as a partner. In reality she’s a little thick but not at all stupid and perfectly capable, and her looks are just fine. She keeps thinking of herself as out of shape, but the character art doesn’t give me that impression at all. Maybe it’s the effect of that soft anime art style the game uses, but I prefer to think this is just Rin being unnecessarily down on herself, which would fit with her character.

I can see how Rin’s awkwardness, her yelling in surprise at inappropriate times, and her constant second-guessing of herself could get on a player’s nerves and make her a grating character, but most of these traits just made me feel bad for her. I find her lack of self-confidence to be relatable, in fact, which is a pretty shitty thing to deal with. It can be dealt with, but Rin doesn’t seem experienced enough with life at this point to have figured that out, which leads to a lot of emotional turmoil in the game — up until the player gets the few massively important choices near the end of the game that have serious relationship and ending implications. And there are a few different endings available, two of them pretty sad. But even if you give Rin lousy directions, you won’t have to backtrack very much to see the other endings. There’s only one route in Amrilato, and that’s the Ruka route.

And of course, Rin and Ruka do cement their relationship, because it wouldn’t be much of a yuri VN without some yuri. It’s all very PG-rated, hence people wondering why the hell Valve had a problem with it — yuri doesn’t necessarily have to involve anything explicitly sexual. Though there is definitely a physical element to their attraction, the emphasis in Amrilato is on emotion, and on the ability to show one’s emotion through using one’s expressions. This sort of romantic stuff can be easily screwed up and turned to total cheese if it’s not done well. However, Amrilato builds up the relationship between Rin and Ruka to the point that when they finally break through those language and emotional barriers, it feels nice to see. It’s earned. As for the endings — well, you’ll have to play the game to see those, because I won’t spoil them here. If you want a real deep dive, go check out Pete Davison’s post series about Amrilato on MoeGamer.

This is about as close to R-rated as Amrilato gets. I still find it funny that publisher MangaGamer offered this game free to schools because of its educational content. We never had a scene like this in Oregon Trail unless I really missed out on something.

So was I satisfied with The Expression: Amrilato? You can probably guess by now that the answer is yes. It was a nice experience, something new and unexpected, and it worked for me. I still have no interest in learning Esperanto, but I can see Amrilato getting at least a few players hooked on the language, and I think promoting an international language is a commendable goal in any case, so I give SukeraSparo credit for that.

As for the lesbian aspect of the game, it isn’t even played up that much as an issue in the way you might expect. All of Rin’s agonizing is really just over whether Ruka would go for her — the game doesn’t give the impression that either one is even necessarily exclusively into girls; the issue is more about how Rin and Ruka fit together. In that sense, I think this game is the same vein as VA-11 HALL-A: it’s progressive but in quite a natural way. What matters is the purity of the love and the expressions used to convey it.

Or something. I don’t know. I’m not a god damn romantic. But I did like The Expression: Amrilato, for what it’s worth. Now I’ve had enough cute romance for a while. I’ll probably play GTA for a change of pace. 𒀭

Liebster Award questions and answers (and another open question)

Many thanks to Frostilyte for tagging me for the Liebster Award. Writers on this platform have come up with a lot of these, haven’t they? In the creator’s words:

It’s an award in which bloggers nominate other bloggers for showing respect to their works and their dedication. It’s an appreciation and recognition for all the fellow bloggers out there in the blogosphere!

Which is something I can’t argue with.

So first, I highly recommend Frostilyte Writes — if you like the sort of stuff I post here, you should be following that site as well for deep game analyses, reviews, and art. Frostilyte has insightful takes that are very worth reading, and the blog comes with my seal of approval.

Now to the questions:

1) We’re four months into the year (at the time of writing) – what’s your favourite game played thus far?

The only 2020 release I’ve played so far is Persona 5 Royal, so I guess that’s my answer. Technically it’s a 2019 release, and the West had to wait another eight months for the localization as usual. But who am I to complain about a long wait? P5R is excellent so far, even if there are real questions to be asked about how necessary Royal is for people who have played the original and aren’t dumbass fans like me who will buy anything with Persona or any Megami Tensei branding on it.

There really is new content in Royal, though, like this. I know how it looks, but it’s not that kind of game.

2) What’s your favourite Pokémon? (don’t read into this too much)

I know this is a massive sacrilege, but I’m not really into Pokémon, which you might have guessed from the fact that I’ve never written about it here. Not that I think it’s bad or anything; I just missed the boat on it. Which is weird, but I think I was just about a year too old when it really got big where I lived — the card-trading game was seen as a kids-only thing in my class, so we weren’t doing it, and the series never caught on with us as a result. I also missed out on Harry Potter for probably the same reason.

Remember when both those series were condemned by some weird people as being Satanic? Those were better days, back when there was so much less to worry about that assholes had to invent controversies to get mad about.

Actually, they still do that, so never mind.

I still want to answer this question, though, and I am a little familiar with Pokémon, so I’ll just say Farfetch’d because I like his name and design. I don’t know if he’s any good in combat, but he’s a weird duck carrying a leek, how can you not like that.

3) Have you watched any shows lately that you’d highly recommend?

I just started watching Babylon Berlin, a Netflix original German production. It’s a crime/espionage drama set in 1929 in the Weimar Republic, the first democratic period of Germany’s history that ended when Hitler and his Nazis overthrew it. This is one of the most interesting times and places in history to me, considering all the political and economic chaos that occurred there. Not such a great time and place to live in, though, as you can see if you watch the show. I’m only into part of the first season, but it’s good so far — a lot of intrigue and backstabbing going on, just what I like.

4) What was your favourite movie from 2019?

I know it’s a boring answer, but hell if Parasite wasn’t just that good. I guess I won’t spoil anything here, but if you haven’t seen it, you should watch it. That’s all.

5) How do you feel about games with no single player content?

I don’t give a damn about them. Nothing against multiplayer-only games; they’re just not my thing. Part of the reason I got into gaming was because it was something I could do without having to talk to other people. If that sounds weird and unhealthy, it probably is. But God knows I need a fucking break sometimes, and I don’t need to spend it trying to awkwardly interact with strangers. This answer says a lot more about me than it does about multiplayer games.

6) What is your least favourite genre of game?

First-person shooters. Maybe partly because so much of the content in those games is multiplayer, but also because I just find them boring. The only one I ever liked very much was Goldeneye, and I don’t know how well it would hold up.

The second-to-last place prize goes to the MMO, partly for the reasons I put up in answer #5. Two free weeks of EVE Online was enough time for me to decide I’d never play another one again. I can appreciate the escapism they deliver, but I prefer to get mine through singleplayer games.

7) What is your favourite genre of game?

Turn-based RPGs. This genre has gotten a lot of shit in the past several years. I get that certain gameplay mechanics can get stale, but there’s still a lot of room for innovation using turn-based or hybrid setups. The mostly turn-based Megami Tensei series, for example, has kept its gameplay fresh for three decades by constantly tweaking its combat systems.

My answer extends to tactical RPGs. For people who feel regular turn-based RPG combat is too much of a weird abstraction, with enemies waiting their turn to attack and all that, this might be a better alternative. It’s still turn-based, but it feels more like playing a giant game of chess with way more types of pieces and freedom of movement, and your pieces have HP and SP and can use magic attacks.

Okay, it’s not much like chess, but at least the board game feel of it is different from the standard RPG combat setup. I once knew someone who couldn’t stand mainline Final Fantasy but really liked Final Fantasy Tactics for just this reason.

8) What game from your backlog have you recently finished?

I haven’t quite finished it, but I just got through two of five routes in the visual novel Katawa Shoujo. If I told you a bunch of 4chan regulars made a dating sim featuring girls with physical disabilities, you might imagine that it’s got to be incredibly offensive, but so far it’s just the opposite. I kept meaning to play this VN for several years now, and I’m happy that I’ve finally gotten around to it.

The third (and maybe last, maybe not) route I’m on is Rin’s. I get the feeling that Rin is supposed to be how the typical 4chan user saw himself back when the game was being made around ten years ago. She’s a spaced-out artist who despises authority and talks to her peers in a direct and sometimes harsh way. There’s another character in the game who represents that typical 4chan user a lot better in reality, probably, but I’ll get around to that if I write something on Katawa Shoujo. Anyway, I have no idea what the typical user of that site or its various boards is like today — this game may as well have been released 700 years ago for how fast society and culture move now.

9) Physical or digital?

Physical. I do own a lot of digital copies of games, partly because of Steam sales and partly because so many low-budget indie projects can only offer digital copies. If I have the choice, though, I’ll always go with a physical copy. I still vaguely remember the pre-internet era that ended when I was still very young, and I have some nostalgia for it. I also miss not having adult concerns. No one told me being an adult would be such dogshit, or if they did then I wasn’t listening.

10) Pinecone?

No thanks, I already ate.

***

Thanks again to Frostilyte for the questions. I’m reluctant to keep this chain going myself because I’ve taken part in a lot of them in the last year, and I’m afraid of asking essentially the same questions and annoying the same fellow writers I’ve kept tagging (or I’m just too lazy to bother; it’s up to you to decide which is true.)

So once again, I nominate everyone who’s bothered to read all of my rambling answers for a Liebster Award because if you have, you honestly deserve it whether or not you even have a blog. And I have a question for you that you can answer in the comments, or on your blog, or not answer at all, or just do with it whatever you feel like. Here it is:

Virtual reality-based games right now are clunky messes that cause motion sickness and headaches, but that probably won’t be the case forever. How do you feel about the prospect of games becoming increasingly immersive, to the point that they might even feel as “real” as reality itself? Do you think this would have more of a positive or negative impact on society as a whole, or would it make a significant difference?

I’m thinking of writing something about this soon, and you might guess at my own feelings about the subject, but I’m interested in knowing what other people think, and specifically in what the sort of person who reads my site thinks. It’s all still speculative, but it’s not so bad to speculate sometimes.

Meanwhile, it’s back to the drudgery of work for me. Once I’m past that crap, next up will probably be more visual novel reviews/analyses. Between the lunar new year and Golden Week sales, I’m loaded up with them, and I’ve also got more routes of Katawa Shoujo I can play through. So I hope you’ve liked it so far, because 2020 is the year of the visual novel for me apparently. Until next time. 𒀭