Month: March 2017

World Heroes Perfect Review — Staying Humble

by Jed Pressgrove

Note: This review was inspired by the Switch version of the game.

Back in the 1990s, games like World Heroes made it easy to call a clone a clone. The two main characters in World Heroes, Hanzo and Fuuma, obviously borrow qualities from Ryu and Ken of Street Fighter II, right down to the white and red outfits and the special-move trio of the projectile, flying uppercut, and spinning horizontal attack. Even the theme of “World Heroes,” much more than the titles of clones such as Fighter’s History, trumpets Street Fighter II’s emphasis on geography and ethnic pride.

This clear debt to a recent ancestor gives a humorous edge to the last word in the title of the final World Heroes. If this game were perfect, its appeal wouldn’t be so reliant on the qualities of a monster hit like Street Fighter II. (Similarly, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild shouldn’t go down as a groundbreaking work given its liberal dedication to concepts from recent pop games.) Here, perfection merely amounts to a series-best effort in using logical, player-friendly rules: attack strength is determined by which buttons you press rather than how hard you mash buttons, you can block in the air, and so on.

Yet in some of its characters’ endings, World Heroes Perfect displays more humbleness about its limited aspirations than open-world adventures like Breath of the Wild and Horizon Zero Dawn (which, in some ways, offer far less freedom than the first two Fallout games, for instance). The most blatant evidence of World Heroes Perfect’s awareness comes in the conclusion for Fuuma, the Ken proxy. After emerging as a victor, Fuuma believes it’s time for him to go on a date to celebrate his success. But as in his ending in the original World Heroes, Fuuma instead finds himself tied to the monotony of office work. Ken, Fuuma’s inspiration, never faced such a banal finish. Never a real threat to Street Fighter II’s greatness, World Heroes Perfect at least playfully observes the tired maxim that applies to countless sequels and wannabe trailblazers: the more things change, the more they stay the same.

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Nioh Review — Somewhat Soulful Action

by Jed Pressgrove

The word out there is true: Nioh swipes a lot from Dark Souls. Enemies resurrect when you heal at a shrine (a parallel to the bonfire in Souls); you lose experience points (known as Amrita in Nioh) when you die but can regain them if you make it back to your point of failure without perishing; shiny objects on dead warriors attract your eye; and so on. But developer Team Ninja shifts the focus from deliberate horror to whip-smart action, similar to how Hideo Yoshizawa’s Ninja Gaiden (1988) revised Castlevania (1986), and avoids Hidetaka Miyazaki’s pseudo-existential, juvenile gibberish that made the latest Souls games (Bloodborne and Dark Souls III) case studies in pretentious pop gaming. The only catch is that, unlike Ninja Gaiden and its cutscenes, Nioh doesn’t understand how brief storytelling can supercharge spectacular martial arts.

When it comes to the spectacle and intricacies of fighting, Nioh is what Bloodborne should have been all along. Whereas Bloodborne neutralized its speed, its kinetic potential, with awkward risk-reward concepts (such as regaining health by immediately attacking enemies after taking damage), Nioh adds fresh nuance to the 3-D beat ’em up with the “Ki Pulse” move, which rebuilds your stamina more quickly when you tap the right shoulder button just as balls of light touch your character after you perform an attack. “Ki Pulse” is a rhythm game within the action that, when mastered, creates an unprecedented sense of stabilization and can work as a way to recover from combos, set up jabbing strikes, neutralize stamina-draining fields, or avoid a counterattack. (The flexibility of this system surpasses the color-coded defensive cues in the tragically underrated Golden Axe: Beast Rider.)

Nioh’s triumph over its obvious predecessors doesn’t stop there. You can take one of three stances (low, mid, or high) to improve evasion, counterattacking, or power. These stances also alter the normal and strong attacks of any weapon, granting the player artistic and technical license that make the stylistic flourishes in Devil May Cry, 3-D Ninja Gaiden (2004), or Bayonetta seem amateurish in comparison. As you go from boss fight to boss fight, Nioh forces you to grasp new layers of its complex combat. This approach is a far cry from the grinding that players often experience in Dark Souls, where luck can play as much of a role as skill. You are far less likely to be fortunate in Nioh; continued victory demands an articulate understanding of the game’s martial theories and practices, which emphasize the satisfaction, rather than the relief, of winning.

It’s a shame, then, that Nioh is a rambling mess otherwise. As if samurai protagonist William looking almost exactly like Geralt from The Witcher isn’t embarrassing enough, the narration in Nioh’s intro sounds like someone doing an exaggeration of William Shatner’s choppy delivery. And the cutscenes do not get more lively, outside of when bizarre animal spirits show up. Ironically, the most powerful text in Nioh is its message to you when you die (“Freed from this mortal coil”), which kicks off initially sorrowful music that morphs into something peaceful and content (a breath of fresh air after the dread of the Souls series).

In contrast to Nioh’s one-dimensional superiority over its influences, Ninja Gaiden wasn’t merely a better action title than Castlevania. It revolutionized storytelling in video games, allowing a concise narrative to bring a distinct emotional urgency that played off the speed of the hero. Thanks to protagonist Ryu Hayabusa’s pregame outburst about the death of his father, a fatal duel in an introductory cutscene drives every bit of the nonstop action in Ninja Gaiden. In Nioh’s first map screen, a duel is talked about casually, objectively. Yes, this duel involves only a sub-mission, but it’s a wasted opportunity to inject the human condition into the fighting, a missed chance to further enhance an already exciting kind of action, where rhythmic conservation reveals a blistering array of aesthetically sophisticated violence. Let raw emotion run through the entire affair — that’s what Ninja Gaiden on the NES tried to teach the pop video game world, and Nioh is yet another entry that doesn’t get it.