by [name redacted]
Harmony of Dissonance is director Koji Igarashi’s attempt to rescue the Castlevania series by wresting control back from the supervision of Konami’s Kobe studios. Whereas KCEK’s Circle of the Moon was set pretty much outside established continuity, this new game is Castlevania in function as well as in form. Though maybe no better or worse a videogame its own right, Harmony is in nearly every respect a vastly superior Castlevania.
Oy. Anyway, I finally — after far too long — got a copy of ChuChu Rocket! Advance. I played around with it a bit back around the system’s launch last year, so I knew what to expect. And yeah, it’s ChuChu Rocket!. It’s… a little creepy, and generally gives me an oddly wistful sensation, to notice how precisely the game captures its original Dreamcast flavour. I mean, this game still feels like a Dreamcast game. It’s got the same atmosphrere to it that I’ve always associated with the system. Heck, for some reason Sonicteam even tried to emulate the original game’s web page content in the GBA version. If the GBA had only four face buttons rather than the mere two, there’d be almost nothing wrong with this version.
Odd that the GBA suffers from the same problem for which the Dreamcast was always criticized: too few buttons.
As much as I’m glad to finally have a copy around (especially for under ten dollars, as it was), I feel almost a little uncomfortable with the game. It’s hard to place the sensation exactly, and it’s certainly not the game’s fault. Maybe a bit of it is a lingering sadness over the Dreamcast situation which normally manages to stay more or less repressed. But there are some other factors in there as well. Something to do with Sega content on a non-Sega machine? Associations which I’m not willing to bring completely into consciousness? I don’t know.
It occurred to me just now that I approach games like a designer. Every game is a learning experience for me, and is judged in terms of the quality of its construction and its original content. It’s as if I’m giving the final okay on every game I encounter. Yes, this design came together well. Yes, I’m proud of this one. No, go away, Acclaim. I almost never even think to examine a game from the outside. I generally need to get inside the heads of the design team in order to appreciate the work. I absorb developer interviews. Every detail about the design process which can be revealed. I revel in picking apart. For ultimately, I guess that I want to understand the essence of the medium.
… I just find this revelation to have its subtle twist of irony, at the moment. Maybe it is about time. Heck, it was about time for something. And this is something. Further, it’s something I’ve wanted to do for most of my life. From my first experiences with videogames, my thought has been “I can do that” — and further, that I probably could do it better. I didn’t want to just play these things; I wanted to be a part of the process.
I’ve never been an outsider, in terms of videogames. It’s one of the few realms in which I can say this with no hint of equivocation. They’re one of the few things I get, inside and out — probably more so than a large segment of the people actually producing the things today. So why haven’t I been doing anything about that? And I don’t just mean blabbering my views, which I do endlessly anyway (albeit never in any official form). Hell, this is an art like any other. It’s obvious I’ve been itching to flex my muse, and it’s obvious that I’m never going to be satisfied until I at least try my hand at something bigger than Crullo: Adventures of a Donut.
… Although, hey…
I think I’m needed. And I think I’ve got something to say. And I know I’m good enough to do something about that, if I just keep true to myself.
I was saying that next year was going to rock, and I’ve been saying it for a while. And now I know the reason. I might be taking a bit of a stand here, but I do believe I’ve found my calling. It’s hard not to feel enthusiastic about that.
This is going to work. It’s as simple as that. I’ve never been so sure about anything.
Oh, heck. KoF2002 is released today.
Phew. Finally got KoF’96 working on my Saturn. For a while there I thought the gameshark’s RAM element wasn’t compatible with the game for whatever reason. I’ve heard that KoF’95 was one of the few cart-and-disc combo games which was put out for the system, and that would certainly be a nightmare to deal with. I was hoping that ’96 was a bit more standard, but the first couple of attempts led nowhere.
I guess persistence is the key. And the result? Not half bad. It’s nowhere up to the level of the Dreamcast ports in most respects, but aside from the (incredible amount of) load time, it’s pretty darned close to the original Neo-Geo version. Here are some observations:
I’m now kind of curious about how ’97 fares on the system. I’m certainly not about to go out and look for it at the moment, but still.
All right. I’ve got other things to do right now.
Yesss… I think perhaps I shall throw together that review. After looking through my usual collection of sites, I’ve come to the conclusion that almost no one else writing about the game has more than sixty percent of a personal clue toward the subject at hand. Come to think of it, it’s actually rather rare that I see more than a few mediocre hints at background knowledge — or even a strong desire to grap the inner essence of a particular work — in the analysis of those who would consider themselves to be game critics.
Even on fan-run sites, I feel like I’m running through a consumer reports analysis — more often than not, by someone without a whit of either aesthetic discipline or deep background in the essence of gaming. I’m not trying to sound pretentious here, as greatly as I might neverhteless be succeeding at it. I just mean — well, hell. You get the obvious hacks, but as often as not the people you’ll find reviewing movies in any respectable sense have some kind of claim to authoritativeness (whether or not their opinions end up being valid in the end). Yes, they’ve seen Citizen Kane and the works of Kurosawa and Wilder and Hitchcock. They’ll agree to the genius of Buster Keaton, and at least one Marx Brothers movie will be in their top five list of favourite comedies. They’ll understand pacing, framing, and they’ll have most of the tiresome “rules” of cinema memorized, so as to amuse themselves by checking them off during the more mundane features imposed upon their time. They might disagree as to what makes a great movie, but they’ll at least be qualified to have a public opinion.
This is, I fear, yet another extension of the current attitude toward gaming as an expressive medium. At best, videogames are generally considered little more than a profitable form of enterttainment. Even Miyamoto, of all people, considers it a mistake to think that videogames can be art. Hell, art isn’t in the object; it isn’t in the medium; it’s in the method. And frankly, although still immature, videogames have more expressive potential than any other medium out there. Hell, some of the most cherished art in the world was originally intended as crass, throwaway entertainment. I’m not about to compare Yu Suzuki to Shakespeare here, but you see what I’m getting at.
But that’s exactly what makes decent coverage all the more important — we’re at the early stage of a form of human expression quite possible greater than any previously devised. Even now it’s usually pretty easy to separate the pure throwaway entertainment from the worthwhile experiences. And then compare a developer like Treasure or Sega’s United Game Artists to the likes of Square or (ugh) say, Take-Two Interactive. There are some very different motivations going on here. Then check out a company like SNK. How do you explain them?
There’s so much humanity here that it seems amazing that it could be overlooked. And yet no, all people see are machines. It’s worse than the flak that electronic artists and musicians used to get up until a few years ago, since at least people are well used to the visual and aural arts. Again, the medium is still in its birthing throws. Look at the pain film has gone through. Some people even now still don’t comprehend photography as an artistic medium — and there will be any number of excuses, from the ignorant to the elite. But behind all of it, you still have humans pulling the levers. And as often as not, they’ve got something to say. In some cases it might just be “give us money!” In others, it’s a deep respect for the fans. In other cases you’ve got individuals working their butts off to form and maintain fleshed-out, vibrant universes.
Shenmue is art. Anyone who can’t appreciate it on that level will probably not be impressed. And you know how people have reacted to this game — particularly in the US. I could slap every single person I hear trash the game because of how supposedly boring it is, or because it doesn’t cater to his or her every whim. Christ, people. To appreciate art, you have to take it at its own level! But then we’re back to where we started. Videogames are meant to be entertainment. Even Miyamoto will tell you this. But you know what? Miyamoto is an artist. He’s a slacker art school kid who was hired as a favor to a relative who worked at Nintendo in the early ’80s. He’s not an engineer. Whether he chooses to admit or believe it himself, what he creates is as often art as it is entertaining. Never trust the artist to judge his own work, people. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about; he’s only the conduit for his vision.
And damn my ass, I forgot that I’m supposededly working.
Wow. Only thing is… Harmony of Dissonance is damned short. It was a fortuitous decision, in this light, for Igarashi to have jammed so many secrets into the game. I accidentally ended up finishing the game, getting what I think must be a luke-bad ending, in less than ten hours, with nearly 200% map completion, all but two items for Juste’s room (one of which I’ve since found), somehow without two of the magic books (again, one of which I’ve since got — it’s the one I put off getting for a while, since it was kind of stressful to race the marble (you’ll… see what I mean)), and without two of the relics (one of which I believe must be Dracula’s eye).
Circle of the Moon, to mention, I’m probably well over fifty hours into — and I’m still missing the Black Dog card. (It’s in the battle arena.) I beat the game it at around thirty hours or so (though I took my tubular time, as I tend to), but since then I’ve still been wandering around, collecting things, and generally powering Nathan up far more than necessary. In comparison to this nigh-pointless time vacuum, HoD is amazingly self-contained.
There are only two isolated map squares which I can’t seem to access, one in each of the two castles. One of them’s behind a big lump of rock (which isn’t there in the other castle), and the other one is in the marble-racing room. It’s just that there doesn’t appear to be any obvious entrance in the A castle.
I’m guessing if I’ve got all of Dracula’s parts and have the maps completely filled-in I’ll get a better ending than the one I received — not that it was really too bad, mind. And during the ending credits I was treated to one of the two high-res bits of music in the game. Might as well not spoil which one, but it was what I thought one of the better themes anyway. If audio was working properly on Edgar here, I’d probably have dubbed the tune off a while ago for referencing in my post the other day.
I’ve toyed around a bit with Maxim, and it seems like his game has been completely reformulated from Juste’s. While playing through the first time I noticed that HoD had a very classic, almost action-oriented layout to its stage design. Although there was a lot of wandering, whenever I needed to go somewhere it tended to be along a pretty straight route and usually through some new territory. What happens in Maxim’s game is that nearly all of the adventure elements have been removed. You can save, but that’s about it. Otherwise, it’s more or less become a classic Castlevania game. What’ve been mixed up are the paths available to you and the order in which you play through the castle. So far (though I’ve barely played into Maxim’s game at all) it looks like you’re constrained to a somewhat linear path.
Also, Maxim plays like a ninja. That’s about the best description I can give. He’s got Juste’s dashes, but on top of that his running, jumping, and attacking speeds are all about fifty percent greater. He’s got a triple-jump, a slide kick, and a normal ducking kick from the outset, and his normal attack is a quick sword swipe. He only has one special weapon, which is a strange and elaborate cross-like contraption. Maxim is just a speedy, strong character. His game ends up playing something like a cross between Strider and Ninja Gaiden (though without the wall-crawling). Considering that Ninja Gaiden and classic Castlevania play almost exactly the same, this seems appropriate.
The boss mode is actually fairly interesting, and the widely-reported secret contained therein, really is firing up my jones for a GBA compilation or remake of the original NES trilogy. (I mean, it’s perfect down to the sound effects. Even the irreplacable “whoop!” sample.)
Muh. So. There that is. I guess it’s better to have a condensed hunk of gaming goodness than a sprawling fifty-hour affair stuffed with needless filler and busywork. (God, why are so many games full of tedious chores these days, just in order to increase playtime? Who started this trend? Wasting my time is not the key to my heart, people. Let me finish the fool game already, so I can move onto something else!) There was barely a moment in HoD which felt superfluous, with the exception of some nasty backtracking in the last third or so. Once the teleporters are all located this isn’t as much of a problem, but — oy. And y’know, people always make what seems to me to be way too big of a deal about backtracking in adventure games. So far as I’m concerned, it’s all part of the exploration aspect in a game like Metroid or Zelda.
But remember what I said about the castle’s layout in this game? There are two sides to everything. The first time through, it’s great and really focused-feeling. The problem is, whenever you want to go back to someplace, you usually have to go far out of your way to return. Much of the time I just put off some smaller tasks which I knew I could finish in another part of the castle because I didn’t want to put in the effort to slog all the way back there through ten minutes of rooms and corridors. The game’s pretty good at directing you back to each part of the castle in turn, though. So generally you don’t have to do a ton of backtracking if you’re patient enough to wait until you’re back in the neighborhood. But the thing is, there are a ton of shortcuts that are present from the beginning but which are locked until very late in the game. The “skull doors”, for instance, exist mostly to keep the player from being able to revisit earlier sections of the castle without putting a ton of effort into winding his way back through his own footsteps. I don’t see why this is in many cases, except perhaps to keep the player from being distracted from the tasks at hand. This is fine in retrospect, but at the time it was kind of frustrating.
And yet this kind of a limitation has its interesting effects. Indeed, it kept me from bothering to revisit the start of the game until about eight or nine hours in. And there’s something… well not exactly poignant, but at least interesting, about finding one’s self preparing for the end by going back to where one began. Everything just went full circle, in a sense.
And come to think of it, isn’t this kind of the point of the series?
Ken Burns’ Civil War series is showing on PBS this week, two episodes every night. I watched another chapter a few moments ago, but I just don’t have the patience to stick around for the second one. It’s interesting stuff, but this miniseries has perhaps the most soporific presentation I’ve ever seen. Must escape before I lapse into a coma. Sorry, Grant.
Onto other things.
Castlevania: Harmony of Dissonance has a very nice tone to it. It’s… a little harder to immediately get into and enjoy than was Circle of the Moon. It’s not as instantly agreeable, and it feels kind of… cold. But now that I’ve played a little bit, it’s opened up a lot and it’s become clear how much more well-made this game is in general than KCEK’s last effort. The control is much tighter. The level design is more interesting. And the entire thing is much more Castlevania-ey than CotM ever managed to be. It’s got that same slightly… uneasy tone that most of the main chapters have had, and which I’ve not felt for quite a while. All of the edges of the screen are crammed full of minute and curious gothic detail.
The game also has a constant sense of forward motion that was lacking in CotM. It feels like I’m going somewhere when I’m playing — like there’s a goal — rather than like I’m just puttering around randomly in an adventure game world. CotM was fun, but that was about it. A fun, Metroid-style platformer with Castlevania trimmings. HoD feels like Castlevania. You know how that map popped up between levels in the first game? You know how in level three you could see the final tower in the background as a goal? It always felt like you were making progress. And that sensation is back.
What’s more, and what is interesting — something I’ve not felt for a very long time with this series is that… old movie sensation. The first few games in the series were spattered with spoke holes in all of the title screens and menus, as if you were playing through a silent horror movie. And the games had an aesthetic and an atmosphere to match. HoD seems to bring this general feeling back. It’s not just going through the motions, it’s doing its best to do things right. Igarashi seems to really understand the heart of the series, in a way that KCEK just can’t handle.
As for the music: you’ve heard how awful it’s supposed to be. This is both entirely true and false.
To be sure, compared to what KCEK achieved with CotM just a year ago, the sound quality is a obviously lacking. A few months ago I spent an hour, one night, simply lying in bed and listening to the Catacombs theme from Circle of the Moon in a pair of headphones. Much of the music in CotM was borrowed and remixed from other games (mostly Bloodlines and Dracula’s Curse), but the music quality was higher than anything I’d heard on a handheld system before. And indeed, it was some of the best Castlevania music I’d ever heard. What’s more, the original compositions were absolutely perfect and memorable additions to the growing roster of Castlevania anthems.
This comparison is, I think, the greatest factor which initially makes the music in Hod so very startling, and for a while even a little grating. Although it might be interesting on its own right, the music is not of the same almost unreasonably high standard set both by CotM and by Castlevania in general. This just doesn’t sound like what you inevitably going to expect. Beyond its mere quality, the composition is also a bit odd.
That said, it’s not as bad as people say, and it has its own odd personality. Try to picture Darkstalkers music played on an NES. Now mix in the occasional motive from Simon’s Quest, and top it off with a few tunes from the original Gameboy games. That’s the HoD score, in a nutshell. It sounds like NES music, basically. But like Castlevania music. Only… a more recent kind of Castlevania music, played on an NES. It’s atmospheric and sprawling. As opposed to NES Castlevania music, which is more melodic and clever. Got it?
The thing is, the music here manages to set its own sort of retro tone. If you’ve played the NES games and the original Gameboy trilogy, I think it’s a lot easier to appreciate what’s been done. Try to take the music as a low-fi experiment, rather than a result of ROM budgeting. On its own level, especially in contrast to the high-budget presentation of every other aspect of the game, the music has its own interesting tone going on. If anything, I think it helps just a bit in adding to the “grainy” emotional texture of the game that I was getting at before. If there’s anything that Castlevania needs in order to retain its unsettling ambiance, it’s a certain offputting creakyness — and the music in HoD seems to do a very good job in maintaining this sensation.
Controversial? Certainly. But I think the music succeeds in its own strange way. Perhaps I’m being too forgiving, but I dig.
All of the other sound effects are great, though (further adding to the perplexing aural quality of the game). Something that strikes me: there’s a strange, startled “nAnI?!” whenever Juste is poisoned or cursed. I’m not sure if this is supposed to be Juste’s own squeak — as it doesn’t sound like the same voice who does all of the item crash screaming and the hopping grunts and so forth — or if it’s intended to come out of the monsters which are whapping him. I suppose the latter wouldn’t make much sense, so I suppose it’s kind of amusing to see a Belmont (especially as arrogant a one as Juste) lose his cool when things don’t go as he plans.
The control, again, is so much better and tighter and more… full-seeming than in CotM. Don’t get me wrong; I loved how Nathan felt in that game. But the control was generally pretty loose, and while Nathan always did exactly what he was told to, he didn’t seem to have much… substance to him. The entire game had that weird sort of a sensation for me, so it’s not just the control. But there was no heft. What flexibility he had felt both kind of messy and strangely contrived. Why did he suddenly get certain abilities when he did, for instance? Why was being able to push crates a special power? What the heck is that “rocket jump” special move? Where does it come from? Whenever I learned a new move with him, it felt more like it had merely been arbitrarily unlocked for me so as to allow me to progress.
Juste, in contrast, starts off feeling much more… rigid than Nathan. His dash ability is indescribably helpful, and it’s neat that he’s able to swing his whip around as in Super Castlevania IV. But he’s less of a jumping bean, he doesn’t start with a slide move, he initially can’t automatically twirl his whip as Nathan could. He’s certainly animated a hell of a lot better than Nathan, and his sprite is larger and more visible — but he’s… well, he feels more like a Belmont than a random platforming character with a whip. Just as floaty ol’ Nathan was great for soaring aimlessly around the open structures in his game, Juste has a much more satisfying kind of focus to him. What he loses in out-and-out freedom he gains in precision and, frankly, respectability.
Nothing seems to be wasted on Juste, and nothing seems to be arbitrary. His starting abilities make sense, and (at least so far) every time I’ve gotten a new one it’s been a pretty logical (and balanced) addition. Plus, if you’re missing a particular move from nearly any other Castlevania game — it’s apparently in here somewhere. Now that I’ve got a slide move and can automatically spin my whip around as Nathan did (although I could manually approximate this effect before), I feel like I’ve earned the abilities and like they’re natural extensions to what I started off with. They’re not just there.
I also like how carefully Igarashi has been to make clear the time period in which the game takes place, and exactly who the characters are in relation to the universe we know so far — from the box to the instructions to the game itself, there’s no mystery at all. It’s stated right out that fifty years have passed since Simon’s Quest and that Juste is Simon Belmont’s grandson. It says what he’s doing, what the relation of this task is to the previous game (chronologically speaking), and how uncommonly gifted he is even for a Belmont. And in the (commendably well-made) instructions, it quickly mentions that his magical abilities come from the Fernandez (Belnades) family.
I’m only about two hours in, but — as you’ve likely gathered — my impression is good so far. The game feels — again — more like a true Castlevania game than any I’ve played in a while. And there are elements I’ve seen from a bunch of other Castlevanias, here. The refereces are particularly heavy to the first two Gameboy games, to the NES trilogy, to the Dracula X series (which makes sense, seeing as how HoD can sort of be considered the third game in that subseries), to Bloodlines, even to CotM and Super Castlevania IV. And heck, the N64 games are even referenced slightly (what with the Fernandez name).
I think a few more things probably could have been done with the game, but in general I’m impressed up to this point. And I’m more confident than ever that Igarashi is the guy who should be heading this series; no one else at Konami seems to really get it the way he does. And even if the game does have its flaws, it feels real. It’s not hard to tell how much effort went into the game, and how devoted the man is both to the legacy of the series and to its fans. This isn’t something you get a whole lot in any form of art or entertainment, seemingly least of all videogames and film. And it’s exactly what was missing from Circle of the Moon. He’s got my trust for the future.
A short note: Is Ayami Kojima (Igarashi’s chosen artist since Symphony of the Night) of any relation to Hideo? They both work at Konami, after all.
Hmm…
If there’s one word to succinctly describe me, I bleef it could very well be pedantic.
I’m not sure why such a realization brings me the comfort that it appears to. Yet.
There.
Edit:
Well, in some respects anyway.
I just saw Mulholland Dr.. It made me feel much better.
Geh. I haven’t yet slept. I’ve been staying up all night playing Space Channel 5 Part 2 and… the above. The games are blurring together in my mind now… which might not be that bad a thing, considering how much dancing Ikaruga requires. They’re both similarly dynamic. And they both make my heart flutter as few things do.
And right before I bed I flip one last browser window open, to check if PA has yet updated. I begin to think: “Y’know, they should’ve mentioned Ikaruga by now…”
For my next demonstration, I shall change George W. Bush into a semi-dehydrated rutabaga. Just you watch.
Ikaruga is keen.
Okay, so the story with Eolith is that at the time they initially signed their contract with SNK, Eolith was the number one game company in Korea. Of course, they’d only made a couple of really dinky-looking arcade games, so I guess an earlier rumour (that I’d forgotten) about them being the first game company in Korea doesn’t seem all that unfounded. (There have been several to follow in the last couple of years, but this is generally all very new to Korea.)
SNK’s games have always, always been popular in Asia and South America. Those have traditionally been their biggest markets. This is why it was such a big deal for Megaking to get that distribution deal with SNK somewhere near the end. Megaking was another aspiring Korean game company, and being associated with SNK did them wonders.
The same goes with Eolith. Since SNK’s R&D staff was all gone, and the King of Fighters series was “ended”, so to speak, it was left for someone to pick up. Aruze were cleaning house at the time, raping SNK of everything which might have made them a passing profit. So there would never be a better opportunity.
And so Eolith jumped the gun and picked up the license. And that’s what it is — a license. In other words, Eolith were officially making their own game, based upon SNK’s characters and designs. They just felt it wisest to continue in the tradition and make this game the next chapter in the established series.
Of course, Eolith… are not skilled game designers. Which is why they hired Brezza — SNK’s old R&D staff — to design the game for them. They wanted to make 2001 as close to an official KoF game as possible, only with their name on it.
And then Sun popped up and offered to publish the game. They were also made of ex-SNK staff. So the game would be developed by ex-SNK staff and distributed by ex-SNK staff. And Eolith would get the credit (especially since no one knew who Brezza or Sun were at the time). Everyone seemed okay with that.
But then what happened, of course, is Playmore grabbed up all of SNK’s properties and started organizing things. There was a period toward the end when Aruze just sold or licensed out SNK’s properties to whomsoever offered. Playmore put an end to this, and made sure it was well-known that they owned all of SNK’s material and effectively now were the new SNK. They were in charge, and would appreciate all of their property back now.
So the nature of their relationship with Eolith became a little strange. Because Brezza and Sun (along with Noise Factory) became part of the Playmore group, the game essentially is being designed by Playmore now. Eolith are contractually involved, and theoretically are in control of the project — this is their game, not SNK/Playmore’s. But for the most part it’s just a show. Eolith get the right to be a figurehead, and the less they do to muck things up the better. Luckily, they know enough to keep their mouths shut.
Megaking’s involvement with Metal Slug seems similar, except for a couple of factors. One, they actually seem to be doing some of the work along with Noise Factory. Two, they’re a lot more important to Playmore than Eolith ever could be. Megaking and Playmore together are who formed the various SNK NEOGEO branches, with the idea that Megaking would be intrinsically involved with the main Korean branch. So they’re not just cashing-in, as Eolith are. They want to be a part of things.
I’ve a feeling these kinds of deals are going to be very limited in the future, what with Playmore in the picture. After 2002, I don’t see why they have any need to renew their contract with Eolith unless Eolith agree to some sort of funding scheme. Otherwise they’re not really adding anything. I can see how Playmore might throw Megaking a few bones, but the thing is, Megaking are already involved in SNK NEOGEO Korea. So they’re in the picture anyway. And yet on the third hand, they actually helped in development. So if they were to continue developing for Playmore, that would save on some Brezza and Noise staff and resources.
It’s just lucky that Eolith were intelligent in how they chose to exploit their license. Actually, it’s astounding that things turned out as well as they seem to have done, all around. Playmore jumped in quickly enough to keep the wolves at bay and to make sure everyone who already had claims to some of SNK’s properties, was behaving.
I’ve not yet eaten today. This situation will now be remedied.
Galloping deities. I just realized that I’ve spent seven and a half hours doing nothing but staring at the screen, researching one random bit of stuff after another. The only constant strain was that it all tended to be centered around SNK in whatever manner — filtering out precisely what the intricacies of Eolith’s contract was with SNK when it was originally signed, what the Crystal System really was and why it’s never been used aside from that one soccer game out of Evoga (too complex to get into here, but I think I understand now). Rediscovering the names (which were mentioned to me dozens of times in the past, but my mind is a sieve for details like this) of all of SNK’s primary artists aside from Shinkirou (Tonko, I remembered at least). Sifting through the details of SNK’s bankruptsy and how it happened as it did. (Aruze is the scum of the earth, that’s how.)
And I am exhausted. If only I could put this kind of focus to work for the forces of good.
One slightly more entertaining-to-someone-other-than-me item, though, than other things I’ve learned today; the art to KoF2002 is apparently being done by the team of Hiroaki and Nona.
Okay, so that means nothing to you? It didn’t do a lot for me at first, either. I knew that Nona was the artist from KoF2001, and I mostly dug what he did for that game even if it rubbed a lot of other people the wrong way. So, fine. But who’s this Hiroaki? I learned he did the art for Bukiri One. That also didn’t mean much to me, although I knew one of the Another Strikers from KoF2000 had his origin there.
Finally I remembered the SNK art book that 
Shepard sent along with his other game stuff. I flipped to the end, and looked through the Buriri-One illustrations. It’s then that an earlier comment hit me. It hadn’t entirely registered, or maybe I wasn’t yet entirely sure whether to believe it.
This is the guy who did the art for KoF2000. And he’s fantastic. I mean, I thought that Tonko’s art for Last Blade and Mark of the Wolves was great. Heck, Tonko’s art was some of the first SNK artwork that really appealed to me. But Hiroaki is… I mean, jeez! (If my head weren’t throbbing right now, I’d look up a few examples again — but all of those windows are now closed. I might do so later, if I remember.) If you’ve seen KoF2000 (particularly some of the pictures in the art gallery), you’ll know what I mean.
So. Nona is still doing the character art, although he’s evidentially been instructed to tone down the weirdness quotient a bit. This is all fine by me, as his art has a certain grittiness and malease which I feel suits KoF perfectly and which the series has been lacking for a long while. His art is frankly just a little disturbing at times. I don’t think I want to know what else he draws in his free time. But aside from his style, he seems to understand, and do a great job at capturing, the personalities of the characters. His freehand art is kind of hit-and-miss, but at least it has personality and life to it. And again it’s certainly distinctive.
Meanwhile, everything else is apparently being handled by Hiroaki. Keep in mind the intro and ending sequences to KoF2000 when I say this. Yes? Yes.
This is the perfect team. I’m eternally grateful that Shinkirou decided to jump ship and move over to Capcom. We’ll never have to deal with his dated, grotesque mannequins again. And yet neither do we have the sharp anime look of ’99 and 2000 — which was nice, but perhaps not entirely appropriate for the intended tone of the series. I’m now really looking forward to seeing how the game turns out from a visual standpoint, as I don’t think there’s ever before been this much potential for the series.
I guess I can live without King. Gripe time is over; now let’s just see what the game does has to offer.
Geh. The list of characters for KoF2002 was just announced. I’m… not really thrilled. It could be a lot worse, but there are what I feel at least a couple of just plain stupid omissions. And were Brezza to put in just one more team — a mere three more character slots — I think they could form perhaps the ideal lineup.
The thing is, the game only has 39 characters, plus Shingo as a challenger (as in ’98), Rugal as the boss (again!), and a second version of K9999 as a mid-boss. This is silly, considering that 2001 had 40 characters and two bosses. You’d think a huge Dream Match event game would have at least a couple more characters than a standard chapter of the series.
What’s worse — they left out KING, of all characters! I mean, King! My King! Not only is she one of the most popular characters in the series, but she’s one of the few characters whom I can use really well (at least by my pathetic standards). She’s usually the first character I pick in any KoF, to test out.
Urgh.
Anyway, here’s the roster for 2002:
Japan Team:
Fatal Fury Team:
Art of Fighting Team:
Ikari Team:
Psycho Soldier Team:
Korea Team:
Gals Fighters Team:
’96 Team
’97 Team
’98 Team (Why is this the “’98” team?)
’99 Team
2000 Team
2001 Team
Mid-Boss: K9999
Boss: Rugal
Challenger: Shingo
Characters removed: King, Heidern, Bao, Foxy, Lin, Hinako, Xiang Fei.
Characters added: Yashiro, Shermie, Chris, Yamazaki, Mature, Vice, Billy.
I can see exactly why these characters were brought back; they’re the most popular and the most interesting of those who were left behind in the Orochi era. But why remove such interesting characters as King, Heidern, Bao, and Foxy to facilitate this? And what about poor old Jhun? There are so many ways this could have been organized better.
What I don’t understand is why K9999 is in the game twice — once as a player character and once as a boss. I’m assuming that Rugal and Shingo will both become playable as edit characters at some time or another, as they were in ’98. The same could easily be the same for K9999. Couldn’t K9999’s slot in the NESTS team be freed up pretty easily if he were only in the game once? Then we could drag Foxy back in. Foxy is one of the most interesting and different characters to enter the series lately, in terms of gameplay, so it’s a shame that she’s not in the game; her fencing techniques would add a lot of variety to the character selection. This is just the simplest and most obvious change, in my opinion. It doesn’t do anything to help bring King back in, but it’s a loose end which I think could do with some patching.
Something I’ve been waiting to happen — and I know I’m not alone in this — is for Chang and Choi to finally be set “free”, and for May Lee and Jhun to fill their places in the Korean lineup. If this were to happen, the lineup would instantly, and easily, be more complete-seeming. May Lee would leave a gap in the Gals team, and King could come back to take her leading role. Chang and Choi could take a place in one of the backgrounds, cheering Kim’s team on. Hey, they deserve a break as much as I deserve a break from having to deal with them. They make better window dressing.
Still, they are important characters. If Brezza didn’t want to remove them, then they could have taken out Takuma without too much strain. Hey, they already got rid of Heidern; the other “Oyaji” character who might or might not be in any given game. And Takuma doesn’t play that especially differently from the other Sakazakis aside from his lack of an uppercut (although they have all evolved a lot since ’99). King certainly offers more variety than Takuma ever could. So shove Yuri back in with her dojo-mates, and — again — give King back her team. Simple!
Another possibility: bring back the beloved “Oyaji Team” from ’98. Reel Heidern back in where he belongs, and once again kick Takuma out of his dojo. For the third slot, we can pull Chin out of the Psycho Soldier team. This would leave Yuri free to join Ryo and Robert as before, and an empty spaceon Athena’s team for Bao to squeeze in. A lot of Americans seem to dislike Bao, particularly younger fanboys who seem threatened by his cuteness. But I think he’s adorable, and he’s got really interesting play mechanics. I’m surprised he was removed, as he’s also become a pretty important character lately.
Anyway, once again this would leave an empty slot in the Gals team, for King — and it would only involve bringing back three characters, all of whom are reasonably important anyway. Plus, the Oyaji Team just seems to me like something which should become a tradition in the Dream Match games. It’s a similar kind of team to the Gals Fighters Team, only for old men instead of women. And it only comes to exist when the old men are pushed to the sidelines and ousted from their teams by the younger members — which would mostly be during Dream Matches. I just like this idea, somehow. It’s a shame that Brezza didn’t pick up on it this time around.
One last idea — perhaps the most radical of all. Most of the changes I’ve suggested so far have been reasonably small, but how about we combine them all.
Take where I left off in the last example, with the Oyaji team, and King and Bao returned to where they belong. Now what would happen if we “fixed” the Korean team again? Out with the ugly, and in with Jhun and May Lee. This leaves an empty slot alongside King and Mai. Solution? Slide in Mary, of course. This leaves a hole in the ’97 Special Team, however. What to do?
How about this: we swap Billy for Mature and Vice. That way, we get a second Orochi Team to go alongside the New Face Team. Yamazaki, Mature, Vice. This seems like a trio who belong together.
Meanwhile, what’s going on with Iori? He’s all alone, with Billy and an empty space…
… Iori, Billy, and an empty space.
Is there anyone out there who is familiar with King of Fighers and who has not wondered what the heck happened to Eiji? People have been screaming for years about the fact that he’s never made a return appearance since ’95 — not even in ’98, which would have been the ideal opportunity. Now we’ve got another chance, and he’s still missing.
He doesn’t have to be, though. And heck, even with his addition the character roster would still only be up by three under my current plan. This is not a lot of extra cart space, or effort. And just think of how much more satisfied just about everyone would probably be (aside from those few enormous Choi and Chang fans out there).
Here’s what my edited lineup looks like. Mind, I’ve only made a few tiny changes. But just compare how much more complete this list is in comparison to the last one:
Japan Team:
Hero Team:
Iori Team:
NESTS Team:
Fatal Fury Team:
Art of Fighting Team:
Ikari Team:
Psycho Soldiers Team:
Korea Team:
Gals Fighters Team:
Oyaji Team:
Spy Team:
Orochi Team:
New Face Team:
Mid-Boss: K9999
Boss: Rugal
Challenger: Shingo
Well, am I right here? All things considered, isn’t this quite superior — while still not all that different from the original?
Poo, see what happens when game designers forget to ask me for advice.
