BlazBlue is on its way back.
And it’s about to be better than ever.
Only you, ArcSys. Only you.
Even though I’d argue
that Tekken is my favorite fighting
franchise, it’s still a VERY close call between it and a game from the ArcSys
camp. But regardless of who’s ultimately
on top, praise and appreciation are necessary for the House of Guilty Gear. So in light of the reveal of BlazBlue: Chrono Phantasma, I’ll be more
than happy to honor and educate you fair visitors of my blog. Because as you know -- or I hope you know --
there are other games out there besides Street
Fighter 4.
So let’s get started. Using BlazBlue
as an example, allow me to present…
1) A commitment to creating and developing stories (for better or
worse).
I remember right around
the time Super Street Fighter 4 was
in the works, and Capcom was proud to show off their latest character
Juri. In addition to being the first
Korean character in the series’ roster, she was going to be pivotal to the
plot, and create a new benchmark for the SF
mythos.
…Still waiting for
that, Capcom.
There’s a current in
the fighting game community -- in developers as well as gamers -- that the
story doesn’t matter. So long as there’s
a token effort to showing each character’s ending, there idea is that there’s not
much need. Superhuman fighters gather. There’s a tournament headed by a shady
individual. The fighters fight. The bad guy reveals his master plan. Insert cheap-as-all-hell boss fight. You win and see that character’s ending. The end.
It’s a formula that’s withstood the test of time, and doubtless will be
seen again soon enough.
But BlazBlue wasn’t content to leave it at
that. It had a full, multi-hour,
multi-path story mode that invited you to explore and enjoy the universe it
created. It fleshed out its characters,
more so than a simple prologue/epilogue ever could. You got to see them interact, develop the
world, establish the stakes and the villains, and give you something to latch
onto…or if you were THAT committed to the old ways of fighters, you could ignore
the story and just plunge into the arcade mode or online play. Nobody asked for a story, but ArcSys offered
one to those who might have wanted it, whether they knew it or not.
But is the story
actually any good? Well, it’s good enough. It’s good in the sense that it makes the
world feel less like a backdrop, and its characters feel like less than a
collection of sprites and frame data. In
terms of comprehensibility, the jury’s out.
The first game more or less invalidated the efforts and events of
several characters’ story by way of a time loop (though you eventually break it
in the end). The second game had a
villain that, while “charming,” was essentially an invincible genius until the
plot decided to throw the heroes a bone.
The world-building elements are dense enough on their own, but throw in
time loops, paradoxes, shifts in the probability of events, past events that
form the backbone of current events, MIA characters whose presence would fill
in plenty of gaps, and a story that’s been prohibitively expanded on other
devices besides the widely-used consoles, and you’ve got your fair share of
problems.
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Still, what’s important
is that BlazBlue put in the effort,
and it DOES do a number of things rather well.
But let’s leave the jibba-jabba about the story aside for now. Let’s go to…
2) An earnest desire to keep sprite-based games alive.
Sometimes I wish we
lived in a parallel universe where sprite-based games dominated, while the
Unreal Engine-powered ilk was banished to obscurity. Given that the former allows for unique expression,
style, and color, you’d think that’s where a lot of the developers would go to
realize their creative vision. But then
again, that would be assuming that they have…oh, what’s the word I’m looking
for?
Spongebob, give me a
hand.
Ah, yes, that’s it. Rainbows.
To be fair, I know that
sprite animation is extremely impractical and extremely cost-ineffective. It’s probably the reason why King of Fighters used the same handful
of sprites for years -- and when the time came to update them (in KoF12), they gave us impressive sprites
at the cost of the rest of the game…to say nothing of a watered-down roster and
half-empty move sets.
In spite of the difficulties, BlazBlue managed topull it off. I won’t debate whether BlazBlue or Guilty Gear or Persona 4
Arena or KoF13 or any other
contenders has the best sprites. What I
WILL say is that for all intents and purposes, BB has some “successful” sprites.
They convey information with their appearance and motions, whether they’re
at rest or on the move.
Let’s take a look at
the game’s lead, Ragna. Here’s his
default stance in a still image.
Here it is in motion.
And for comparison’s
sake, let’s look at his brother Jin’s stance.
Now, take a moment to
come up with words to describe them. I’ll
give you…oh, about thirty seconds. Go
ahead. Give it a try.
…You done? All right.
Ignoring the way they
look for a moment (and yes, they ARE indeed brothers), think carefully about
what’s being conveyed here. Ragna’s
stance emphasizes toughness. Confidence. Annoyance, and perhaps even anger. He doesn’t even have his weapon drawn, but he
doesn’t need to; he knows all he needs is a quick swipe to make heads
roll. There’s a calmness to him that
keeps him balanced; he’s breathing in and out without much hesitation, but you
know he’s all too willing to launch himself into a Hell’s Fang at a moment’s
notice.
Compare that to Jin’s
stance. He has a similar confidence and
annoyance, but there’s more elegance to him -- and with it, an air of superiority. Whereas Ragna’s willing to face an opponent
with his full attention, Jin hardly feels the need, and turning his head is all
the recognition he’ll give his foe. He
doesn’t have his weapon drawn either, but there’s a calculating nature to him
that Ragna lacks; I can almost imagine Jin thinking, “Now then, I wonder how
many pieces I should cut this piece of trash into?”
Their movements -- and
looks, of course -- may not be the most realistic, but that’s the point. They’re stylish. They’re unique. Their exaggerated designs and motions
emphasize their traits. The information
isn’t just conveyed, it’s elevated to a whole new level.
It certainly helps that
there’s…
3) A slew of combat mechanics to help you and hurt your foe.
Sometimes I question
whether games in the Capcom camp are as easy and beginner-friendly as they’re
purported to be. The mechanics seem
simple enough -- jumps and throws and fireballs, oh my -- but the nuances make
me think otherwise. Before I understood
fighting games (and even now that’s in question), I used to look at the
six-button layout and think to myself, “Well what’s the point of having four
weak attacks when I have the two strongest ones here?” So I just used fierce punches and
roundhouses. Thankfully I’ve learned NOT
to rely on just those two buttons in the years since, but that just invites a
whole armada of questions and nuances to learn.
What’s the proper application of this move over that move? What’s the proper timing for a link? What is
a link? What? Back-dashes have invincibility frames? Wait a sec, what are those? Eh screw it. I'll just go with what I know.
There are a lot of
things you need to learn about SF
(and by extension, Street Fighter X
Tekken) before you’re even remotely ready to start playing online -- some
of which don’t feel even remotely intuitive.
And even then, there are still issues that create crap-shoot
situations. What do you do when someone’s
pressuring you with safe attacks? What
do you do when one lucky hit turns into a life-eating combo? What do you do if you make the wrong input,
or your attack misses by a big margin?
They’re all situations that contribute to the SF metagame of course, but those all depend on you having the right
answer at all times.
ArcSys games work
differently. The idea is that the
mechanics in their games make for a harder-to-understand experience, but I’d
argue that the reverse is true. What do you do when someone’s pressuring you
with safe attacks? Why, use your barrier
to push them back out and make an opening -- or just spend some meter and blow
them off. What do you do when one lucky
hit turns into a life-eating combo? Don’t
worry, just use your burst to stop their combo…or use a burst offensively to
completely fill your super meter. What do you do if you make the wrong input, or
your attack misses by a big margin? No
problem, just Rapid Cancel and return to a neutral state -- a technique that
lets you save yourself, dupe the enemy into attacking, or just open up new
combo opportunities. You can do things
offensively and defensively that you can’t in other games.
And in addition to
that, there’s…
4) A dedication to character balance and relevance.
The reason I want to
focus on BB specifically is that it
has its “Drive system.” Essentially,
each character has a slew of moves with special properties -- often accessed
with a single button press -- that sets them apart from all the others. Ragna has his “Soul Eater,” which amps up his
basic offense by stealing enemy health for himself (a boon, since his health is
curiously low for the standard Shotoclone).
Jin has “Frostbite,” which lets him freeze opponents solid and leave
them wide open for some tasty combos. The
resident grappler’s drive can pull in enemies -- and generally, the last place you want to be when fighting
a grappler is within his grab range.
Zoning characters can be extremely effective thanks to their drives,
either turning the stage into a bedlam of blades or utterly confusing you with
an insectoid onslaught. But I have to
give Carl Clover major props for giving players the chance to control not one,
but TWO characters simultaneously, and allowing for some deadly setups.
The original BB took a lot of heat for having the audacity to show up with only twelve
characters, especially since the original SF4
showed up with about twenty. Likewise, SSF4 brought in ten new characters (and
four added with DLC), while BB’s
update brought in…a whopping two, and three DLC characters added over a
staggering period of time. To say
nothing of Marvel vs. Capcom 3’s
FIFTY characters.
But there’s a fault in
that approach. While Capcom games
give you a lot of characters, their effectiveness ranges from “why would you
use anyone else?” good to “hope your affairs are in order” bad. Even with that aside, there are some
similarities that diminishes a character’s effectiveness. Both Guile and Dee Jay are zoning characters,
and share a couple of moves -- a projectile and an anti-air kick -- albeit with
different properties. But here’s a
question that comes up often: why would you use Dee Jay when Guile can do much
of what he can, but better? I’ve played
with them both, and I can see the merit to the question; the most I can say in
Dee Jay’s defense is that he has some better cross-ups, unique knockdowns, and
is black. Similarly, why play T. Hawk
when Zangief is considered far superior?
The most you could say is “character loyalty,” but that’s not enough for
a lot of players. And as I recall, IGN once knocked E. Honda for being eerily similar to Blanka. A blanket statement, but I can see why they’d
think that.
With the (strenuous) exception
of Ragna and Jin, nobody in BB plays
quite like one another. The strategies
you use as cyborg samurai Hakumen are vastly different from those used as cat
girl Taokaka. Even though Carl and
Litchi both use indirect attacks via their semi-controllable Drives, their
gameplay is still markedly different.
Nobody knew what the hell to make of Arakune when he was first revealed,
and there have been few comparisons to him before or after the game’s
release. More importantly, the smaller
cast lends itself to greater balance; it’s much more difficult to balance forty
or fifty characters than it is (at most) a dozen and a half. There have been more than a few niggling
issues, like projectile characters at one point being inherently better than the others, but with each iteration each character comes closer and closer to 100%
viability. And with that viability -- that
balance -- comes more interesting
fights. Rather than see wall-to-wall
matches with teams featuring Doctor Doom or Magneto, wouldn’t be exciting to be
left guessing which character you’ll see in the next fight?
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5) An effort to explain its world’s mechanics.
To the credit of most
fighters, there’s not too much world-building to be done. SF takes
place largely within the context of the present, and Tekken is pretty much the same way (though it does rationalize the
presence of things like the Mishima Zaibatsu and G Corporation). Soulcalibur
gives you a bit of historical context, but focuses more on its
characters. Virtua Fighter…well, Virtua
Fighter doesn’t give a shit about its story, as far as I can tell. There’s not much context besides “your
character wants something, so he/she enters the tournament and fights some
dudes.” I guess Sega’s under the
impression that it doesn’t have to work on the story because “nobody cares
about the story in a fighting game.”
Besides, VF takes place in the
present-day as well; there’s not much to tell, really.
That’s precisely why I
have to give ArcSys some credit for trying to do something different. It’s hard enough trying to build a living,
breathing world. Worse yet when it’s a
thankless job in the context of the “hurf durf who cares about story?”
mindset. But there’s genuine
effort. How can you look at stages like
this and not wonder “Wow, I wonder what kind of world these characters live in?”
…And then you realize
that the reasoning behind such wild architecture is never given.
That aside, the actual
workings of the world are explained in the main story and in easily-unlocked
extras -- another one of those “it’s there if you want it” little
flourishes. Even if you never touch
those extras, there’s enough info conveyed to you in the main story to satisfy
you. What’s with all the crazy
weapons? Who are the bad guys working
for? What’s a Terumi? What’s the fuel for everyone’s bitchin’-damn
super moves? All questions answered in
the story’s context, and then some. I
say “and then some” because -- if you haven’t already, BB is a game that BEGS to be played…or better yet, watched.
I say this because of
four simple words: Teach Me, Miss Litchi.
Other games -- not just
fighters -- are content with giving players a codex or datalogs or supplementary materials (often only available in Japan) to read in
order to fill in the blanks. It’s
passable, but not exactly ideal. BB on the other hand gives you a slew of
fully-voiced, character-driven, and genuinely entertaining shorts that explain
the world as well as offer their own little side-stories. That way, you’re not just learning; you’re
laughing, too.
And on that note…
6) A sense of levity that keeps things from getting too heavy-handed.
I think video games are
WAAAAAAAAAAY too serious nowadays.
Not all video games, of
course, but enough to make me weary and wary.
Chalk it up to being violent/cinematic/epic, but there’s a striking lack
of levity that a nineties-bred gamer like me sorely misses…and a levity that I appreciate all the more whenever it appears.
And then, one day, BlazBlue came riding into my heart on a
daffodil-powered motorcycle, leaving behind trails of rainbows and balloons and
smelling like miracles. There’s a
tongue-in-cheek nature to the game that keeps it from getting too heavy. Don’t get me wrong, there’s no shortage of
serious moments, thanks to some dramatic backstories, falls from grace, and
some generally…well, unpleasant
villains. But it rarely forgets that it’s
a game, a product designed to entertain its owners.
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There’s an awareness of how ridiculous all the characters are. Jin’s lust for his brother isn’t just made explicit, it’s slammed in your face with a clown car the size of an elephant. Litchi, the resident improbably buxom fighter, is repeatedly referred to as “boobie lady.” Hot-blooded ninja Bang can override the game to have his theme song play -- and I swear the volume jumps up about forty decibels every time. The mid-battle dialogue ranges from over-the-top (“Don’t put down science!” or “MY DEFENSES!”) to hilariously insane (“Your breasts are illegal!” and my personal favorite, “Ragna the Bloodedge…YOU’RE STUPID!”). And the story mode’s got plenty of golden lines. Actually, I should probably go into a bit more depth on that one.
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There’s an awareness of how ridiculous all the characters are. Jin’s lust for his brother isn’t just made explicit, it’s slammed in your face with a clown car the size of an elephant. Litchi, the resident improbably buxom fighter, is repeatedly referred to as “boobie lady.” Hot-blooded ninja Bang can override the game to have his theme song play -- and I swear the volume jumps up about forty decibels every time. The mid-battle dialogue ranges from over-the-top (“Don’t put down science!” or “MY DEFENSES!”) to hilariously insane (“Your breasts are illegal!” and my personal favorite, “Ragna the Bloodedge…YOU’RE STUPID!”). And the story mode’s got plenty of golden lines. Actually, I should probably go into a bit more depth on that one.
See, the story mode has
branching paths for each character. Some
paths lead to their good ending. Other paths lead to a bad ending, and the
expected game over. But if you make
certain choices, you’ll end up on a third path, and unlock a character’s gag
reel. In my opinion, the gag reels in
themselves are worth the price of admission.
They are nothing short
of cinematic genius. Fly, you
fools. Go and watch them.
Here. I’ll even post a video here for you. You don’t even have to put in the legwork…well,
finger-work to go to YouTube.
7) A product that allows for fast-paced, pulse-pounding action.
As you may know, I have a lot of fond memories playing fighting games with my brother. Even if he’s become an unrelenting (if a bit
reckless) tiger in terms of gameplay, and even if I’ve become an unmoving (if a
bit panicky) dragon, we still go at it relatively often…even if it DOES have a
nasty habit of taking about three hours out of my life. But one of our most memorable matches was
during a game of Guilty Gear.
Neither of us were very
good at the game (in the conventional, tournament-worthy sense), since it was
our first experience with the franchise.
But my brother put in time in the combo lab as he often did, while I
familiarized myself with the game via arcade mode and a few dozen
playthroughs. When it came time to throw
down during a visit to our grandma’s house -- because at the moment there was
nothing else better to do -- we popped in the game, plopped down, and selected
our alter egos. He chose Sol Badguy. I went with Ky Kiske. Tensions flared as the match started,
heralded by the blare of the swordsmen’s rival theme.
What transpired was one
of the biggest slobberknockers of a match we’ve ever had. The explosive booms of Sol’s Gun Flame. The resounding blows of Ky’s Greed Sever. The pulverizing force of Sol’s Ground Viper,
grinding me across the ground before pounding me skyward. The crackling lightning of Ky’s Vapor Thrust,
followed up by a blow that could send Sol flying. My brother’s relentless assaults, held in
check solely by my defensive array of bolts and blocking. High and low attacks. Staggers and stuns. Characters zooming in on one another with
dashes and slides, and practically flying through the air.
But the most memorable moment was when my bro went for a Force Break, cancelling into Sol’s add-on attack -- an attack I blocked with ease. Looking to retaliate, I went for my overdrive, Ride the Lightning…but Sol’s last move was safer than I expected, allowing him to hold off my attack. The counter? A Tyrant Rave, a massive burst of flame exploding from Sol’s fist…and a burst I blocked without issue. My response? Another Ride the Lightning, hoping to capitalize on the mistake. But once more, I was blocked, with neither of us gaining an advantage. Drained of both our meters and running low on health, we both scrambled to find a way to clinch the match. And as it turned out, my brother found the way first; with one well-placed Riot Stamp, he zoomed out of the way of my attack, and ended the match with a flying kick.
But the most memorable moment was when my bro went for a Force Break, cancelling into Sol’s add-on attack -- an attack I blocked with ease. Looking to retaliate, I went for my overdrive, Ride the Lightning…but Sol’s last move was safer than I expected, allowing him to hold off my attack. The counter? A Tyrant Rave, a massive burst of flame exploding from Sol’s fist…and a burst I blocked without issue. My response? Another Ride the Lightning, hoping to capitalize on the mistake. But once more, I was blocked, with neither of us gaining an advantage. Drained of both our meters and running low on health, we both scrambled to find a way to clinch the match. And as it turned out, my brother found the way first; with one well-placed Riot Stamp, he zoomed out of the way of my attack, and ended the match with a flying kick.
I lost the match. But I think I gained something even more
precious.
I know Guilty Gear isn’t BlazBlue. And as much as I
like the latter, the absence of the former is severely missed, and one that I hope doesn’t last too much
longer. But for what it’s worth, BlazBlue (and inevitably Persona 4 Arena, and undeniably Guilty Gear) is a positively thrilling
experience. It’s fast. It hits hard.
It gets you pumped. It lets you
play your way. It gives you all the
tools you need to succeed so that when you lose, you know it’s your fault
alone. It’s cool. It makes you feel the heat. It gets you hyped. It makes you laugh. It gives you a fantastic, colorful
world. It gives you a story, and lets
you play at your leisure. It lets you be
you, whatever sort of fighter you may be.
And for that, Arc
System Works, I thank you. But I will
get down on my knees and proclaim you an aggregate embodiment of the heavens
because of…
8) THE MUSIC.
I don’t think Guilty Gear would be half as memorable
and adored by gamers if it wasn’t for the music. That’s probably to be expected, given that
its mastermind had a heavy hand in the soundtrack as well as the story and
characters.
I’m thankful that
Daisuke Ishiwatari got to exert as much control as he did -- and that he got to
continue nurturing his baby into something utterly fantastic. Each song in the game adds more to the
character than even their sprites; Sol’s theme emphasizes his rough and rowdy
nature. Venom’s, a calculating professionalism. Zappa’s, a horrific and tortured being. Slayer’s…well, Slayer’s theme
is unrestrained badassery.
And you know what? Ishiwatari is only getting BETTER at this
whole rock god thing. Good as those
songs are, they’re fairly old now. Not
to say that their effect has been diminished, but when you compare them to the
work Ishiwatari’s done more recently, you can certainly see how much his sound
has evolved.
Here’s Jin’s
theme. Listen to it. Just…listen to it.
I don’t know if it’s
your cup of tea. I don’t know if it
means anything to you. I don’t know if
it affects you, or conveys information, emotion, and perhaps even a story
within its four-minute play time. But
you know what? If I had to guess, I’d
say you at least felt something. And who knows? You may be scrolling YouTube to check out the other themes.
Now, what that something is
-- from this song, any song, or my wide-eyed ranting -- remains unclear. But at the very least, I know where I stand. Arc System Works is, right now, in my
opinion, the fighting game company to beat.
I thank them for all they’ve done, and I sincerely hope that they keep
up the pressure…and release a new Guilty
Gear.
Better watch yourselves,
Capcom. You’re on blast now.
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