On why The Cruel King and the Great Hero is a better bedtime story than it is a satisfying JRPG

When the folks at Nippon Ichi Software revealed The Cruel King and the Great King in early 2021, I was ecstatic. I adored The Liar Princess and the Blind Prince, a puzzler-platformer with a similar aesthetic and vibe--so much so I declared it one of my favorite games of 2019--and thus expected the world from this follow-up.

With The Cruel King and the Great King being a JRPG rather than a side-scroller, though, I couldn't help but wonder how artist and writer Sayaka Oda and her talented team at NIS would handle the genre switch.

I say this because The Liar Princess and the Blind Prince is a wonderfully accessible, streamlined, and unique take on the puzzler-platformer genre. Before I played it, it was hard to imagine how The Cruel King and the Great King would check those same boxes.

After finishing The Cruel King and the Great King, the difficulty makes perfect sense. Although the game is plenty accessible, and some may argue it's streamlined and unique, too, it's not streamlined or unique in the ways I hoped or expected it would be in the wake of The Liar Princess and the Blind Prince.

One noteworthy case in point: there's no traditional overworld map, dotted with towns and dungeons, to explore in The Cruel King and the Great King. Instead, the game presents players with a minimalistic map that's vaguely Metroidvania-esque. Rather than traverse it by jumping from platform to platform, though, you move from point to point by ambling left and right down tight and barren (but beautiful!) hallways.

This is a lot less taxing than scouring a vast overworld or stumbling through a maze-like dungeon, of course, but I personally never found it to be an enjoyable or satisfying alternative to the status quo, and I'm pretty sure most others would feel similarly about this odd design decision. (For the curious, Nintendo's Miitopia does a much better job of tweaking this staple RPG component.)

Another example of how The Cruel King and the Great King tweaks the RPG formula but ultimately fails to produce something gratifying: party members occasionally learn new battle skills, and some of them allow you to target groups of enemies that are lined up vertically, horizontally, or diagonally. Depending on the makeup of your party (and the alignment of your enemies), you can combine these skills to overwhelm the opposition.

Unfortunately, the game conspires in several ways to keep this from happening as often as it could or should. For starters, each character learns just one or two of these skills during an average playthrough. And not only that, but it can take a long time to learn them. Also, enemies typically are grouped in ways that make it possible to defeat some, but not all, using such combos.

Although that's hardly the worst thing in the world, I think The Cruel King and the Great King would have been a lot breezier and a lot more fun if it set things up to make these happen as often as possible. Especially since the game's tussles are fairly ho-hum otherwise.

The Cruel King and the Great King's battles disappoint--though underwhelm may be a better word here--in another important way, too. Early on, the game tells you that you can spare enemies in certain situations. To be honest, that notification basically went in one ear and out the other for me, or whatever the equivalent is for your eyes while reading. Later, I remembered it and looked it up online, worried I might be missing something vital or even playing the game "wrong."

I was missing something, it turns out, but not anything important--as far as I'm aware. If you manage to expose an enemy's weakness and make it sweat, you can let it escape. The thing is, exposing an enemy's weakness is easier said than done, especially early in the game, and even then, there's no guarantee the enemy will agree to flee.

As such, playing The Cruel King and the Great King like it's an Undertale knockoff isn't really possible. Which is just as well, as the game currently doesn't give you any reason to do so. Sparing an enemy doesn't benefit you in any way, or at least it didn't seem to during my playthrough. It was noted in my "monsterdex," but that's it.

It's too bad The Cruel King and the Great King's designers and developers decided to incorporate this element into the experience and then do so little with it. Especially since the story, which follows an orphaned girl who is raised by a dragon and helps local monster-folk while training to become a "hero," is a perfect fit for such anti-RPG gameplay.

Based on what I've said so far, you're probably thinking I wish I'd never wasted my time and money on The Cruel King and the Great King. I don't--and keep in mind this is coming from someone who dropped big bucks on the game's pricey "Treasure Trove" bundle. Oh, sure, the protagonist's slower-than-molasses walking speed occasionally (OK, regularly) got on my nerves. And there were times when the frequency of the battles bugged me, too.

Still, I enjoyed it overall. Its story is the definition of heartwarming and is, without a doubt, the highlight of The Cruel King and the Great King. Its soundtrack is top of the line, too. Even after hearing its main battle theme 100 times, you won't tire of it--or at least I never did. And of course it's filled with gorgeous, hard-drawn art, like most Nippon Ichi games are these days. (See Yomawari, Mad Rat Dead, and Labyrinth of Refrain for evidence.)

There's no denying I expected more of it, though. I consider The Liar Princess and the Blind Prince to be one of the best games Nippon Ichi's ever made. I've played through it four times and would struggle to find fault with it if pressed on the issue.

Because of that, I had high hopes The Cruel King and the Great King would follow in that game's footsteps a bit more than it did. Oh, well, at least it came through with a killer bedtime story.

See also: The good, bad, and ugly of Heroland (or, why I'm thinking of walking away from this oddball RPG after putting 20-plus hours into it)

The good, bad, and ugly of Heroland (or, why I'm thinking of walking away from this oddball RPG after putting 20-plus hours into it)

The topic of this post may surprise those of you who noticed that I named Heroland in my "favorite games of 2019 that aren't The Liar Princess and the Blind Prince or Lapis x Labyrinth" write-up.

Don't get me wrong, I stand by its inclusion there--despite the fact that I'm giving serious thought to pulling the plug on my lengthy Heroland playthrough well in advance of the game's end credits.

How could I both enjoy this unique PC, PS4, and Switch RPG--called Work x Work in Japan--and bounce off it before encountering its credit roll? That's what I'll hopefully explain here.

The good

Physical copies come with a frickin' instruction manual--And not only that, but Heroland's manual is pretty nice. It's 25 pages long, printed in full color, and filled with a ton of lovely illustrations. Oh, and it's small enough it actually fits in the game's case. I wouldn't suggest buying a physical copy of Heroland just so you can flip through this booklet whenever the urge arises, but it sure is a nice bonus if you purchase one for at least a couple of other reasons.

It dares to do things differently--I love role-playing games to death, but even I think they can be a little too samey. Well, Heroland approaches the well-worn genre from a unique angle. I guess I should've expected that. After all, it was made by folks who previously worked on Fantasy Life, Magical Vacation, and even Mother 3. Heroland doesn't play like any of those titles, though. It's actually kind of--gulp!--mobile game-esque in its design. To advance the story, you take on quests that revolve around guiding four-person parties through areas of a theme park. Said park has an RPG theme, so naturally it features battles with baddies. (Though the baddies here are just other humans in costumes.) Being a guide, you don't do any fighting yourself; rather, you bark out orders to customers who paid to partake in such tussles. That probably sounds boring to a good portion of you, but I've found it fairly fun so far.

Heroland's soundtrack is surprisingly magical--Or maybe I should call it sneakily impressive? I say this because Heroland's OST didn't strike me as superb right away. It wasn't until a couple of days after I started playing it, when I realized I was humming the game's main battle theme, that such a thought entered my head. On a related note, Tsukasa Masuko's work here is more playful than serious or somber--appropriate, given Heroland's amusement-park setting.

The bad

Everyone in Heroland talks too much--Everyone except the silent, afro-coifed protagonist, that is. I'm not always keen on silent protagonists in games, but Heroland's thrills me. I mean, if ol' Lucky (that's the main character's name) added his two cents to every conversation, this role-player would be even more blathery than it is already. Oh, well, at least Heroland's wall of text is witty.

I wish its developers would've gone further with the board game-esque playfields--Although it's possible things open up in this regard as Heroland approaches its denouement, I'm not betting on it doing so. Assuming I'm right, that's a real shame. While the game changes up its sorties now and then by tossing new environments and enemies at the player, they otherwise remain disappointingly straightforward. Personally, I would've loved it if the playfields that serve as the backbone of Heroland's silly quests were filled with twists and turns--or at least a few more slight bends.

The ugly

Battles don't become a whole lot more strategic or even interesting after the five- or 10-hour mark--Though there's more depth to Heroland's skirmishes than the game leads you to believe early on, things seem to level off in that regard once you're a few hours into its story. Admittedly, I'm still enjoying them quite a bit, but I'm pretty sure I'd enjoy them a lot more if I could make even a couple more choices while telling the park's customers what to do against the horde of adorable enemies they encounter during their Heroland adventures.

It lasts way too long--When I started playing Heroland, I assumed it would take me 15 to 20 hours to finish. Around the time I hit the 15-hour mark, I asked folks on Twitter how long it took them to beat the game. The answer I received shocked me: over 40 hours. Twenty hours in, I've long since forgotten the thrust of Heroland's story--which suggests to me it's already gone on far too long. How on earth am I supposed to give it 20 more hours of my time?

See also: 'A few impressions of the recently released Romancing SaGa 3 remake now that I've put more than 20 hours into it'

A few impressions of and pieces of advice on the recently released Romancing SaGa 3 remake now that I've put more than 20 hours into it

My original plan was to wait until early 2020 to buy the recently released Romancing SaGa 3 remake. Everything changed, though, when Square Enix slapped a 20-percent discount on this long-awaited role-playing game during its launch window.

Still, I assumed I wouldn't actually play it for weeks, if not months--what with Pokémon Shield's imminent arrival (at the time) and all. Boy, was I wrong. Romancing SaGa 3 dug its hooks into me within minutes of being booted up for the very first time.

Over 20 hours later, I'm thoroughly enjoying it and ignoring the new Pokémon title.

Why am I enjoying this Romancing SaGa 3 remake-remaster-whatever-you-want-to-call-it so thoroughly? Here are the main reasons, plus a couple of complaints that, if addressed, would prompt me to like this pixelated adventure even more than I already do.

Oh, and I'm tossing in a few pieces of advice at the end as a bonus--just in case any of you decide to buy it down the road as well.



I love how the map opens up as you talk to NPCs--I'm sure other RPGs have utilized a similar system, where you only gain access to towns and dungeons and other locations after a non-player character (NPC) mentions them, but this is the first one I've played. There's something surprisingly thrilling about exiting to the world map and seeing a new area or two pop up out of nowhere, begging to be explored.

It's worth playing for the weird potential party members alone--My current Romancing SaGa 3 party includes a blue elephant, a pink-haired fairy, and a bard who bears a striking resemblance to Final Fantasy IV's Gogo. And they're only the tip of the iceberg here. Additional options include an anthropomorphic snowman, a similarly human-esque lobster, and a Batman wannabe. Eat your heart out, bog-standard JRPGs.

"Sparking" new skills here is as exhilarating as it is in every SaGa game--Admittedly, it isn't as exhilarating as it is in SaGa Frontier, or at least it isn't to me. But there's no denying my heart skips a beat whenever a little lightbulb appears over the head of one of my party members, alerting me to the fact that he, she, or it is about to learn a new battle skill. My only complaint is that I wish it would happen with more frequency. I've gone through a lot of dry spells so far in my 20 or so hours with the game, and that's not only unacceptable, it's boring.



Although I appreciate that Romancing SaGa 3 is mysterious, I wish it would explain things a bit more than it does--You've probably heard that this game, like its predecessors and successors, has the barest of stories. It's true, but that honestly hasn't bothered me much. Far more irksome has been that it's often similarly tight-lipped about how things like magic and combo attacks operate. Some of it can be sussed out via trial and error, but not all of it. Harrumph.

I wish the town music was more varied--I adore Romancing SaGa 3's soundtrack on the whole, but something that really bugs me about it is a good number of towns feature the exact same background tune. Even worse, that particular song is my least favorite of the ones I've heard up to this point.

Where's the fast-forward button, Square Enix?--Both Bravely Default and Octopath Traveler let players speed up battles with the touch of a button. Why on earth doesn't Romancing SaGa 3 allow the same? Especially since it features the slowest fights of this trio of titles. These lackadaisical battles aren't dealbreakers, mind you, but they do get a tad boring now and then.



Has what I've said thus far got you itching to pick up a copy of Romancing SaGa 3? If so, keep the following pieces of advice in mind as you continue to contemplate your purchase--or as you start your way through the game (if it's already taking up space on your PC, PS4, Xbox One, Switch, Vita, or phone).

If you hate RPGs that lack explorable overworlds, look elsewhere--I enjoy racing across an ever-changing overworld as much as anyone. That's not something you get to do while playing Romancing SaGa 3, however. Instead, you get to choose between icons--representing caves, forests, towns, and the like--unceremoniously plopped onto a map. It's kind of a bummer at first, but it saves time in the long run, so I personally consider the whole she-bang a wash.

Also look elsewhere if you absolutely need a grand story in your RPGs--Most SaGa games aren't story-focused affairs. Romancing SaGa 3 is no different. That doesn't mean it's story-free, though. In fact, it offers up plenty of little snippets of stories through the numerous quests it tosses your way. Many of them are surprisingly unique for the genre, too, so if you're at all open-minded in this area, give the title a go despite the fact that its gameplay isn't tied to a novel-worthy tale.

Try not to psyche yourself out--Yes, Romancing SaGa 3 can be obtuse. And yes, Romancing SaGa 3 can be difficult. It's not so obtuse or difficult that it's impossible to finish, though. In fact, if your first playthrough is anything like mine has been so far, you'll enjoy long stretches when the proceedings seem positively ho-hum. So don't keep the game at arm's length simply because you're scared it'll be too much for you.



Prepare to see your party wiped out a lot--Part of the fun of playing a SaGa game, in my experience, is tucking into dungeons or taking on bosses you know nothing about and seeing how you fare. That often results in your ass being handed to you, admittedly. As such, try to embrace dying in Romancing SaGa 3. It's going to happen a lot, no matter what you do. Accept rather than fear it and you'll get a lot more enjoyment out of the experience.

Don't worry about grinding--One of the main things that's made me wary about playing both Romancing SaGa 2 and 3 is the oft-repeated warning that grinding in either game can be a bad idea. As in, grinding does more than toughen up your party members; it toughens up enemies, too. Well, here's some good news for you: while that's true--to a point--you shouldn't have to worry about it much. Although there are no random battles in this game, you'll be forced into them regularly enough that grinding is sure to be the last thing on your mind.

Embrace FAQs and walkthroughs--Going through a game blindly is an admirable feat. That said, I wouldn't suggest doing so with Romancing SaGa 3. Not only will it make your journey a lot more challenging, but it'll likely cause you to miss a bunch of cool characters and quests along the way as well. This blog is a great source of information, as is this shrine.

See also: 'Five reasons I would've paid full price for the Switch version of Dandy Dungeon if Onion Games had forced me to do so'

Six reasons all the people who suggested I'd hate A Witch's Tale were wrong

Shortly after I announced on Twitter that I was starting through A Witch's Tale, my old podcasting pal Mollie Patterson sent me a GIF of Morgan Freeman nodding his head and saying, "Good luck."

She wasn't the first to warn me away from this Hit Maker-developed, Nippon Ichi Software-published Nintendo DS RPG. In fact, I'd say most folks have responded negatively whenever I've expressed an interest in it.

Still, I'm the sort of bloke who prefers to come to his own conclusion about such things. So, true to form, I stubbornly stuck my long-ignored cartridge of A Witch's Tale into my trusty 3DS a couple of weeks ago and prepared for the worst.

Eighteen-ish hours later, I'm here to tell you those naysayers were wrong. Or at least they were wrong to believe I'd hate the game.

On the contrary, I loved it. The more time I spent with A Witch's Tale, the more I enjoyed it. And now that I'm done with it, I can honestly say it's been a highlight of my year. Here are a few reasons why.

It looks lovely--At first glance, A Witch's Tale isn't anything special, aesthetically speaking. Oh, it's colorful and cute, but so are countless other DS titles. What eventually set it apart from the ho-hum pack in my mind was how it deftly combines charming spritework and deliciously lush backdrops. Usually I'm not a fan of this kind of commingling, but it produces eye-popping results with such regularity here that it's easy to embrace.

Its battles really grew on me--Early on in my playthrough of A Witch's Tale, I found its turn-based battles rather annoying. It didn't help that every single action required me to utilize the system's touch screen. I'm fine with that in some DS gaming situations, but it can make for slow-paced fights when shoehorned into an RPG like this one. That's what I thought in the beginning, anyway. My opinion on the matter changed mightily a little later on, though--so much so that I actually relished the occasional tussle as this quirky adventure approached its conclusion.

I especially like how "ancient magic" works in A Witch's Tale--The element that slows down this game's battles the most is called ancient magic. To unleash one of these bigger-than-usual spells on the enemies lined up in front of you, you have to correctly trace a "rune" on your DS' touch screen. It's a source of frustration at the start, as screwing up--and thus failing to send forth a ring of fire, a torrent of water, and the like--is easy as can be if you race through the experience. In time, though, I came to appreciate the careful nature of this aspect of A Witch's Tale--mainly because it keeps you from spamming high-powered magic and forces you to use at least a smidgen of strategy while taking on baddies.

The locations you explore in it are a breath of fresh air--OK, so A Witch's Tale does feature the requisite "snow area." Even then, though, it's more Christmas-y than wintry. The rest of the locales on offer here are not so clichéd. My main--and almost only--complaint with this part of the game is it almost entirely ignores the Halloween-ish Shadow Town. Also, you don't fight any enemies there, which I consider an even bigger missed opportunity. Shouldn't this be where me and my bad-ass doll posse battle the final boss--or at least challenge her second-in-command?

The text is surprisingly witty--No one with any taste is going to tell you A Witch's Tale features the best writing around. They should tell you it's far better than average, though--or far better than you're probably expecting it to be. Speaking of the latter, I went into the game with fairly low expectations in this regard, so that may be why it impressed me as much as it did. At any rate, the thing I like most about this title's localization is that it convincingly transforms the pigtailed protagonist from an annoying brat to, well, someone who still tests your patience but is a lot more likable overall.

It's a properly bite-sized RPG--Although I don't mind playing a lengthy RPG now and then, I far prefer playing ones that take 20 or fewer hours to finish. A Witch's Tale fits this criteria, if only just, but that's not all. It's also designed to accommodate shorter stints of play. Rather than give players an overworld to traverse, it offers them a hub--the aforementioned Shadow Town--that conveniently connects each of the game's six lands. Those lands are fairly well contained, too. Sure, it's possible to get lost in them, but mostly they ensure you move on to the next well before the current one overstays its welcome.

Does all of this mean you'll love A Witch's Tale as much as I did if you give it a try? It could. I think your chances of matching my positive experience will be best, though, if you're the type who likes games that dare to do things differently--even if it doesn't always produce, or even approach, perfection.

A whole lot of thoughts on Ever Oasis for the Nintendo 3DS

I bought a copy of Ever Oasis all the way back in early 2018--when Walmart was clearing out its stock of 3DS games for some reason or other. Sadly, it sat on a shelf, unopened and unloved, until a couple of weeks ago.

While considering which game I should take on vacation with me at that time, my stress-addled brain kindly reminded me of Ever Oasis. So, I stuck the cart into my trusty OG 3DS and tossed the whole she-bang into my carry-on bag.

Surprisingly, I avoided both like the plague on my nine-hour flight as well as throughout the rest of my two-week vacation. I came to my senses on the trip home, though. Not only did I start my way through Ever Oasis during this lengthy leg of the journey, but I put more than four hours into its desert-focused adventure before I landed in Austin.

If you follow me on Facebook or Twitter, you may have seen the posts I've published in the week-plus since I returned home that extol Ever Oasis' virtues. None of them went into much detail about why I've enjoyed the title so much up to now (or which aspects have done their darndest to keep me from enjoying it), though, so I thought I'd rectify that here.



It's gorgeous--Visually, Ever Oasis reminds me of a trio of other games I similarly adore: Fantasy Life, Miitopia, and Secret of Mana. All three are cute as buttons and feature chibi-ish character and enemy designs, of course, but that's only part of what I'm talking about here. The main aspect that ties these four titles together for me is they all use warm, soft color palettes that call to mind sherbet and beachy sunsets. As a result, I basically never tire of looking at them--Ever Oasis, in particular.

The soundtrack gives off serious Secret of Mana vibes, too--And by that I mostly mean there's a breezy, laidback feel to the bulk of it. The rest is made up of atmospheric tunes and tunes that are bombastically epic. All in all, it's an pleasingly eclectic soundtrack that cuts its own path while also offering a bit of nod to one Hiroki Kikuta forged many years earlier.

Fighting in Ever Oasis is a ton of fun--In fact, combat in this game feels a lot like the combat that's front and center in another 3DS game I just mentioned, Fantasy Life. I'd argue it's even more satisfying here, though, thanks to the fact you typically control a three-member party, and each party member tends to hoist different weapons and have different abilities that can be put to creative use while exploring as well as in battle.



I love the unique weapon designs--I'm especially smitten with the hammers wielded by Ever Oasis' portly, frog-like Serkah characters. One has a spiky cactus for a head. Another is capped with a giant pinecone. All of them put a smile on my face. The same is true of many of this game's other weapons, too--from its bolas, to its bows, to its magical wands. Sadly, only Serkahs can use the aforementioned hammers, but that's a pretty minor complaint, all things considered.

That said, I think there are too many weapons in Ever Oasis--I can't believe I'm saying such a thing, to be honest. Usually, I welcome any and all weapons an RPG is willing to throw at me. In Ever Oasis, though, you have to craft--or "synthesize"--the vast majority of them out of materials you collect while in the field. Only a select few can be bought from one of the game's rarely encountered merchants. As a result, you quickly build up a sizable cache of weapon "recipes" that overwhelms more than it impresses.

On the flipside, I wish there were more outfits in the game--I've found about seven turbans so far and maybe 15 coats or robes. That's not a whole lot, especially compared to the slew of weapons Ever Oasis offers up. Still, I'd be fine with this dearth of clothing options if what was available were more useful. Instead, the coats and robes and turbans are purely superficial. Accessories like anklets and rings and mirrors do boost your defenses in a couple of ways, but they're not visible during play--another big bummer for me.



The strategic aspect of the dungeon-crawling here is surprisingly engaging and intriguing--It's quite Zelda-esque in this regard. In fact, one could argue it one-ups Nintendo's classic series now and then thanks to the vast number of ways you can solve its puzzles. An unfortunate downside of this aspect of the game: you have to switch out party members with annoying regularity. Doing so is a lot easier than it could be thanks to the game's "aqua gate" function, but it's still pretty exhausting.

Speaking of which, I'd like this game even more than I do now if I could switch out party members via the pause menu--Considering the "aqua gate" mechanism I just referred to is far from realistic, I wish Ever Oasis' developers had taken things one step further and let players change party members quickly and easily via the game's pause menu.

That seems to be Ever Oasis' only missing "quality of life" component, however--Ever Oasis may fumble a bit with the above, but it makes up for it elsewhere. Don't like gardening? Ask some of your residents to handle it for you. Restocking their shops--or "Bloom Booths"--with materials you gather while spelunking is made similarly easy after a certain point. Early on, you have to go door to door to accomplish this task; later, it requires little more than the press of a button. The game is full of such shortcuts, and they help make it as tedium-free as possible.



I could do without a lot of this game's town-building and NPC-pleasing--Many like to describe Ever Oasis as a spiritual successor to Square Enix's Mana series. And while that makes some sense--especially since Secret of Mana's director, Koichi Ishii, also served as this title's director--it only tells half the story. That's because overworld-stalking and dungeon-crawling are just a part of Ever Oasis' gameplay loop. The other part focuses on town-building, material-gathering, and NPC-pleasing. Those actions are a nice diversion at first, but for me they became increasingly tiresome and time-consuming as I delved ever deeper into the game.

It's a crying shame you can't recruit any of the adorable Noots as party members--As much as I like the designs of most of Ever Oasis' controllable characters (of which there are many), I can't help but feel sad the developers of the title didn't allow players to add even one of the game's cute-as-hell Noot beings to their dungeon-crawling parties. Maybe they saved it for a sequel?

Note: the screenshots showcased here are from this wonderful Ever Oasis walkthrough and guide

How Let's Go renewed my interest in Pokémon

When Pokémon: Let's Go was revealed earlier this year, I paid it no mind.

My lack of interest had nothing to do with me being too cool, hardcore, or even old, mind you. Instead, it had to do with my, erm, "complicated" relationship with this long-running series.

You see, although I've bought a lot of Pokémon games over the years, I've barely played--let alone completed--most of them.

A few cases in point: before Let's Go, the only Pokémon title I ever "beat" was Red. I got close with Black, but became distracted as I approached its finale. All the rest, though? Well, I put about seven hours into X, and maybe four into Diamond and Emerald. Meanwhile, my copies of SoulSilver, Black 2, and Moon all remain unopened and unexplored.



Now my initial shoulder-shrugging in regard to Let's Go makes a lot more sense, right?

The thing is, although I was frosty toward this Switch remake at first, I thawed on it shortly after copies finally hit stores. Why? Glowing word of mouth, to be frank. Plus, screens and video footage of the game made it look like a lot of fun.

So, after a bit of hemming and hawing, I handed 60 big ones to the evil superpower known as Amazon for a copy of Pokémon: Let's Go, Eevee! and then (impatiently) waited for it to arrive on my doorstep.



Based on all of the above, you might assume the first few minutes I spent with this title were the gaming equivalent of love at first sight. They weren't.

In fact, after putting about an hour into it, I was wondering what on earth I'd done in buying it. I found it boring and slow. Honestly, if I hadn't spent so much money on it, I would've popped its cartridge out of my Switch and never looked back. Because I did drop a wad of cash on it, though, I stuck with it. A few hours later, I was all but smitten.

I can't point out to you the exact moment when my opinion of Let's Go, Eevee! changed, sadly. All I know is that I began one play session with a yawn and ended it with a grin splashed across my face.



That grin stayed in place for most of the next 40 or so hours I spent with the game, too.

I "blame" its charming cast of characters--the eponymous monsters, especially--for most of the pain I endured as a result of that days-long smile-fest, by the way. What can I say? There's just something about how the original 151 Pokémon creatures are depicted here that makes me happy.

The same could be said about the new, Pokémon Go-ish capture mechanism. A lot of people despise it, I know. I adore it. In the past, I often found the "wear 'em down until they're just about to faint" aspect of this series' random encounters to be draining. That's no longer an issue here.



Also, combining that aspect with wild Pokémon that are visible on the overworld map makes progressing through the game a breeze.

Are those three components really enough to change someone's mind on this series? I can't speak for anyone else, but for me that's certainly been the case--much to my own surprise, I have to admit.

Will my renewed interest in all things Pokémon (or at least some things Pokémon) remain strong if the mainline game that follows in the footsteps of Let's Go in late 2019 drops either or both of these last two bullet points from the back of its brightly colored box? I honestly don't know.

I can assure you I'll approach it with an open mind, though. And who knows? Maybe I'll walk away from it 50 or so hours later (as I did after I finished Let's Go recently) feeling like I got my money's worth from the purchase--something I've rarely been able to say about Pokémon games.

Five reasons I hate myself for waiting 29 years to finish Capcom's Sweet Home

Like Super Mario Land 2, which I discussed in my last post, Capcom's Sweet Home is an old game I've been meaning to play for many decades now. Nearly three decades, in fact.

Unlike that 1992 GameBoy title, however, I'd at least booted up this scary Famicom RPG from 1989 on a few occasions over the years.

I'd never gotten more than an hour or so into it, though--or at least I hadn't until I started my way through it about a week ago.

Well, that's all in the past. This time around, I played Sweet Home for just over 12 hours. And not only that, but I finished it.

So why do I hate myself for waiting 29 years to thoroughly explore this game's hair-raising halls and grounds? Here are the five reasons that first popped into my head:

Sweet Home absolutely nails the feeling of being locked in a haunted mansion--Seems impossible, doesn't it? After all, not only is the dwelling in question crafted using 8-bit sprites, but it's depicted using a top-down perspective, too. Despite that, Sweet Home is as nail-bitingly claustrophobic as any survival-horror game that takes place in such an eerie (and similarly cramped) locale. You really feel like you're stalking the spooky hallways of an evil manor while playing Sweet Home, and that's a real accomplishment as far as I'm concerned.

Its soundtrack only adds to the tension--Sweet Home's music isn't always easy on the ears. Hell, sometimes it's downright annoying. It's pretty much always fitting, though. As in, even when the game's backing tunes are discordantly irritating, they complement what's happening on your TV screen. Don't take this to mean there are no standouts on Sweet Home's soundtrack. In fact, quite a few of its songs could be heralded as stellar. I'm especially fond of the "eastern garden" tune, with its lightning-like percussion flourishes, and the sweetly melancholy "fresco theme."

I love how its story is revealed in bits and pieces--In most RPGs, you learn about its story through banter between party members or conversations with non-player characters. Here, you're mostly made aware of it via notes and even paintings you discover while exploring the titular "home." That gives the game an air of mystery I'm not sure it would have if it'd stuck more closely to the traditions of the genre. It also enhances the sense of loneliness and unease that permeates this Japan-only release.

The turn-based battles in this game are surprisingly unique--Yes, you read that correctly: Sweet Home features turn-based battles. And they're not unlike those you encounter in Dragon Quest or Mother or numerous other 8-bit RPGs with first-person fights. So what's unique about the ones on offer here? A good example is the "pray" option, which increases your power if you time things right. Another example is the "call" option, which lets you bring straggling party members into an on-going battle. (Although five characters are at your disposal while playing Sweet Home, you're forced to split them into groups of two or three. When you select this command, the game cuts away from the fight at hand so you can move one or more other party members to its location.)

It's nearly the perfect length for an RPG--As I mentioned earlier, my just-completed playthrough of Sweet Home took just over 12 hours. That's a breath of fresh air for someone (such as myself) who rarely has the time, energy, or attention span to deal with 100-plus-hour behemoths like Octopath Traveler. Which isn't to suggest Sweet Home's pacing is perfect. I actually thought it overstayed its welcome by an hour or two. Still, I'll take that over the aforementioned alternative any day.

There's only one other aspect of Sweet Home that turned me off, by the way. What is it? The way it severely limits how many items you and your intrepid companions can hold. I understand why the game's developers decided against giving players unlimited space for these objects (which include candles, fire extinguishers, and pieces of rope), but I wish they'd been a bit more lenient. Thankfully, you can drop seemingly pointless tools and wares on the ground and return for them later if the need arises.

That pair of slight missteps notwithstanding, I found my latest (and most successful) foray through Sweet Home's halls and grounds both fascinating and exhilarating. So much so, in fact, that I can't wait to enter its creepy confines again this time next year.

Manual Stimulation: Susano-o Densetsu (PC Engine)

If only I'd penned and published this post last summer as intended.

Back then, one of my favorite retro-game blogs, The Brothers Duomazov, was still alive and well.

OK, so maybe "well" isn't the right word to use here. After all, it hadn't been updated in more than three years at that point.





I could access and enjoy all of its reviews of old PC Engine and TurboGrafx-16 games whenever I wanted, though, and that was more than enough for me. (I swear I read some of them at least 10 times each. They were like comfort food for me.)

I bring up The Brothers Duomazov, by the way, because it was one of the only sites that offered up any real information on this obscure, Japan-only RPG from 1989.

Also, it pushed me to buy a copy of the game. Before I read the brothers' thoughts on Susano-o Densetsu, I skipped right over it each and every time I came across it on eBay or my go-to online stores.





What can I say? Its cover art screams "bad game" to me--despite the fact that a buff dude is front and center and the esteemed Hudson Soft logo sits just below his hairless torso.

Well, The Brothers Duomazov opened my eyes to the fact that Susano-o Densetsu is far from a bad game. Actually, their write-up made it seem pretty darn interesting.

For starters, it's a HuCard-based role-playing game--an honest-to-goodness rarity as far as the PC Engine is concerned.





Also, its battles don't rip off Dragon Quest or Final Fantasy like pretty much every other RPG did in the late 1980s. Instead, fights in Susano-o Densetsu offer players a bit more freedom than was typical for the genre at the time.

Combine that with this Alfa System-made game's cyberpunk-ish aesthetic, and it should be easy enough to understand why I'm now a proud owner of a complete copy.

The instruction manual showcased in this post was pulled from the interior of that copy, naturally. It's quite something, wouldn't you agree? Admittedly, it could use a few (or a lot) more illustrations, but I think it's pretty fabulous even in its current state.





I especially like the full-page world map featured on its fifth page. And of course I adore the item and enemy drawings highlighted on the Susano-o Densetsu manual's final spread.

What's your opinion of this surprisingly beefy booklet? Do you love it? Do you hate it? Or maybe it doesn't inspire any kind of emotional reaction from you? Regardless, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

See also: previous 'Manual Stimulation' posts about Dungeon Explorer, KiKi KaiKai, Parodius Da!, and Son Son II.

Ten things I'd change about Octopath Traveler if given the chance

My last two posts hopefully make it pretty clear I'm enjoying the hell out of Octopath Traveler at the moment.

As much as I love it, though, I don't think it's perfect. In fact, I'd make the following changes to the game if someone gave me the green light to do so.

1. I'd add a Bravely Default-like slider to the "settings" menu that lets you adjust the frequency of random battles. Being able to turn off random battles--or even increase how often they're triggered--was a real lifesaver, not to mention sanity-saver, while playing Bravely Default. Why Octopath Traveler's developers decided against including something similar here, I'll never understand.

2. I'd allow players to alter the game's difficulty on the fly, too. Again, like Bravely Default--or even the recently released Shin Megami Tensei: Strange Journey Redux. Both of those 3DS titles let you switch between easy, normal, and hard (or casual, standard, and expert, in the case of Strange Journey Redux) modes as you wish. Not only isn't that possible while playing Octopath Traveler, but it's not even possible to choose a difficulty level at the game's start. As such, if you run up against an area or boss that's too hard for you, you've got no choice but to grind your party into better shape or improve your battle strategy.

Illustration by carrotchipper

3. I'd make weapons visibly distinct during battle. I've loved being able to see my party member's weapons in battle since I first played through the original Final Fantasy shortly after it was released in my neck of the woods. In fact, I stuck with that game's "coral sword" long past its sell-by date because I thought it was cool to wield a pink blade. So imagine my disappointment when I realized I'd never get to see Octopath Traveler's "bear cleaver" or "war hammer."

4. I'd include a few more unique secondary jobs. In a way, I appreciate that the folks who called the shots during Octopath Traveler's development decided to cap the game's secondary jobs at 12. It's easy for RPGs to go overboard in this area and become bloated, confusing messes. Still, I wouldn't have minded even a couple of additional career options for my hard-working crew--especially since I consider a few of the included ones to be borderline pointless.

5. I'd shorten its battles. How much shorter would I make them? I'm not sure. Slightly shorter, at the very least. And I'd focus on Octopath Traveler's boss battles in particular. Yes, I feel accomplished and relieved and all sorts of other emotions after finally toppling one of this game's end-of-chapter baddies, but I'd sacrifice a bit of that elation for tussles that occasionally last less than 30 minutes.

6. I'd let people save anywhere. This is one of Octopath Traveler's more confounding omissions, if you ask me. I know the game's supposed to be a throwback, but this is going a bit too far considering nearly all modern RPGs allow players to save where they want and when they want. Plus, you encounter the little pedestals that serve as Octopath Traveler's "save spots" every few steps, so why not just remove that visual clutter from the landscape and replace it with something that's a lot more user-friendly?

7. I'd toss in a few vehicles. I know what some of you are thinking: vehicles aren't needed in this game because it lets you "fast travel." It only lets you do so between cities, though, which often means you still have to hoof it a bit if you want to explore a cave or hunt for a shrine. Even if Octopath Traveler allowed you to plop your party anywhere on the map with a nudge of the analog stick and the press of a button, I'd still want access to a handful of "vehicles"--like maybe a boat or carriage or horse--so I could buzz around the landscape when the mood strikes.

Illustration by punkratkid

8. I'd give players more money for winning battles. Or I'd make weapons and armor cheaper. As things stand, it's easy to feel "poor" while playing Octopath Traveler--especially as you toil through its first half or so. In fact, I mostly resorted to stealing armor and weapons and items from unsuspecting townsfolk during my first 30 or 40 hours with the game because of this. Maybe that's the point? Or maybe this is Octopath Traveler's way of telling me to spend more time grinding? Either way, I'd prefer it if the gear sold by this title's many shopkeepers were a little more "wallet friendly."

9. I'd make it so the lantern used in caves and grottoes is upgradable. Hell, I'd even force players to find or buy this accessory before they could comfortably probe Octopath Traveler's many dark and dank caverns. This starter lamp would be pretty dim, too, and the only way to make it brighter and more useful would be to replace it or upgrade it in some form or fashion.

10. I'd increase the game's wackiness quotient. Although Octopath Traveler occasionally shows it's got a nutty side (Olberic's ability to challenge nearly any NPC to a one-on-one duel is a prime example), it's usually a pretty staid experience. How would I make it a little zanier? By tossing in a couple of kooky, out-of-left-field bosses, for starters. I'd also add in some silly weapon classes--like the bells and harps that pop up in a number of Final Fantasy titles.

Would you alter Octopath Traveler in any particular ways if given the chance? If so, what changes would you make?

See also: 'ten things I adore about Octopath Traveler' and 'five more (kind of silly) things I adore about Octopath Traveler'

BONUS ROUND: five more (kind of silly) things I adore about Octopath Traveler

If you follow me on Facebook or Twitter, you should be well aware of the fact that the bulk of my gaming time over the last month or so has been spent working my way through Octopath Traveler.

In fact, I've now devoted 55 or so hours to this much-ballyhooed Switch RPG, and I have a feeling I'll need to put at least 25 more into it before I wrap up all of its storylines.

It probably could go without saying that I'm thoroughly enjoying the experience, but I'm going to say it anyway. Actually, I already suggested it in my last post--about the "10 things I adore about Octopath Traveler."

So why am I belaboring the point today? To be honest, I thought I was done extolling Octopath Traveler's virtues when I published the write-up linked to above. A few additional virtues popped into my head this past week, though, and although my initial plan was to just stick them at the end of my earlier post, I figured they'd be overlooked.

Plus, I like that the components highlighted below are sort of silly.

The lantern you carry while in caves and grottoes--No joke, this was one of the details that most stood out for me when I watched Octopath Traveler’s first trailer more than a year and a half ago. It's the type of thing that would've thrilled me as a youngster (yes, I've always been a little weird), and it still brings a smile to my face today--even if it doesn't impact the gameplay as much as I'd like.

The mansions that double as dungeons--Is Octopath Traveler the first turn-based RPG to stick dungeons within manors and other such dwellings? Even if it isn’t, I love how it’s handled here. I especially enjoy ducking into rooms to see what may be hiding inside. I wish they featured a few secret nooks and crannies here and there (like the caves and grottoes do), but maybe producers Masashi Takahashi and Tomoya Asano are saving such treasures for the inevitable sequel?

The return of the “Final Fantasy V laugh”--Something I've always loved about the fifth Final Fantasy game is how adorable its characters look when they laugh. Well, Octopath Traveler’s protagonists and NPCs use a shockingly similar animation while guffawing or chortling. I don't know if this is an intentional reference to one of my all-time favorite games or if it's just a coincidence, but I'm going to assume it's the former until proven otherwise.

The shimmer--No, I'm not talking about the "Shimmer" that serves as a major plot point in the Annihilation film. I'm talking about the way some of Octopath Traveler's elements shimmer and sparkle in the most captivating way as you walk on or by them. You'll mostly observe this while traipsing around the game's sandy and snowy environments, or while exploring some of the aforementioned caverns, but you'll also notice it (in and on homes and shops) while strolling through its villages and towns.

The sound of your party’s footsteps--They sound like horses clopping, especially when your crew's walking across dirt or stone, and for whatever reason I find it comforting.

Now that I've had my say (again), what are your favorite aspects of Octopath Traveler?

Ten things I adore about Octopath Traveler

I was pretty sure I'd like Octopath Traveler as soon as I finished watching the teaser footage of it that was featured in the "Nintendo Switch Presentation 2017."

That hunch persisted as I played its first demo, which hit the Switch eShop late last September.

How do I feel about Octopath Traveler now that I'm making my way through the full game? Well, I've put nearly 40 hours into it so far--what do you think?

If that's not enough detail for you, keep reading for a bit of commentary on the 10 things I most love about this throwback of an RPG.



The ability to steal--When I first added Therion ("the thief") to my party, I pretty much ignored his "steal" path action. I mostly used Tressa's similar ability, "purchase," instead. It quickly became clear to me, though, that buying armor, weapons, and items in this game is a fool's errand. Random battles just don't give you the kind of money you need to outfit your crew properly. So, I started stealing from non-player characters (NPCs)--and now I can't stop. Hopefully the game doesn't penalize me for it down the road.

The battle system--You know what excited me most during my four-hour playthrough of the first Octopath Traveler demo? The battles. They gave me powerful Bravely Default vibes--a very good thing as far as I'm concerned. Actually, I think the fights in Octopath Traveler are better than those in Bravely Default. They're certainly more visceral--especially when you "break" an enemy and your system's Joy-Cons offer up an impressive series of rumbles and jolts.



The effects and "filters"--I know a lot of people think the lovely spritework in this game is ruined by the effects its artists and developers applied to those assets, but I'm not one of them. Admittedly, there are times when the vignette and depth-of-field filters make it hard to see paths and easy to miss treasure chests, but I'd rather deal with that than have a game that's flatter and far less aesthetically pleasing.

The freedom--One of the most SaGa-esque aspects of Octopath Traveler is it allows you to go anywhere and at any time. Or, to put it another way, the game lets you do what you want, when you want to do it. This is far from the first RPG to offer such freedom, of course, but it still feels fresh here because of the eight characters--and on-going storylines--at your disposal. Get in over your head while trying to complete a particular chapter and you can simply switch to another. Or you can tackle an optional dungeon. Or you can search for one of the shrines mentioned below. Basically, what you do and when you do it is up to you.



The locales--If I had to hold up one visual element of Octopath Traveler as being more impressive than the rest, I'd go with its towns. Every one does its best to take your breath away the second you stroll past its entrance. This is mainly due to the unique and ornate architecture that fills each burg, but there are other reasons, too--such as the rivers that wind through a number of them and the bridges that cross those burbling waterways. When combined with the environmental details and backdrops, this game's hamlets basically beg you to explore them--and so far I've happily obliged.

The NPCs--In some ways, I like Octopath Traveler's NPCs more than I like its protagonists. There are so many of them, and almost every one has a story to tell. You're able to hear these tales not only by chatting up townsfolk as you would in any other RPG, by the way, but also by using Alfyn's "inquire" and Cyrus' "scrutinize" abilities. Accepting and completing side quests from and for some of these NPCs sheds even more light on their intriguing backgrounds.



The party members--I know Octopath Traveler's eight protagonists are kind of clichéd and trope-y, but I don't care. I like them anyway. I especially like the plucky merchant, Tressa, and the out-for-vengence dancer, Primrose. OK, so I have a soft spot for the cluelessly dreamy (not to mention Sherlock Holmes-y) scholar, Cyrus, and the wet-behind-the-ears apothecary, Alfyn, too. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm pretty fond of all the game's party members, though I'll admit the hermit warrior, Olberic, and the stoic hunter, H’aanit, are my least favorites.

The sense of mystery--Something I've often wished RPGs would feature more of are secret locations. Well, Octopath Traveler has loads of them. Hidden within the landscape that stretches between the game's towns and forests and caverns are caves and tombs that double as optional dungeons and shrines. (You learn secondary "jobs" in the latter.) Believe me when I say stumbling upon one of them is among the most thrilling and satisfying aspects of this globe-trotting adventure.



The soundtrack--It's been apparent since Octopath Traveler's initial tease that its soundtrack was going to be a stunner. Even so, I was unprepared for the brilliance that wafted into my ears the minute I hit "start." The tunes I've heard so far are elegant and emotional and wistful in ways that remind me of the ones I fell in love with while playing Final Fantasy V and VI for the first time back in the day. Need I say more?

The "travel banter"--As you may have heard, Octopath Traveler's eight protagonists never really acknowledge each other during the normal course of play. Those walls come crashing down after certain events, though, and when they do, pressing the plus button on your Switch lets you listen to the banter between two or more party members. These chats aren't exactly deep--they're usually just a few lines long--but they still provide a welcome look at the behind-the-scenes relationships of this tit;e's colorful cast of characters.

Are you playing Octopath Traveler, too? If so, what are your favorite aspects of it?

See also: 'five more (kind of silly) things I adore about Octopath Traveler'

Five things that made it really easy for me to put more than 60 hours into The Alliance Alive

If you follow me on Facebook, Twitter, or Tumblr, you may have seen me trumpet the fact that I finished The Alliance Alive a short time ago--after putting more than 60 hours into it.

Actually, you may have seen me celebrate the same accomplishment in one of my most recent posts here, too.

Regardless, you know now. And, really, as thrilled as I am that I reached The Alliance Alive's credit roll and devoted so many hours to it along the way, I'm even more thrilled that I enjoyed pretty much every one of the nearly 4,000 minutes I spent with this portable RPG.

Why? Here are the first five reasons that came to mind:

Awakening "battle arts" is completely addictive--If you're not quite up to speed on The Alliance Alive's inner workings, "battle arts" are special attacks or moves that are tied to specific classes of weapons. If you give one of your characters a spear, for example, one of her battle arts may be "Charge," which causes her to race toward and through an enemy. While using that art, you might "awaken" another one, like "Spear Fishing" or "Triple Strike." The key word here is might. There's seemingly no rhyme or reason for when a character will learn a new battle art. You may go a number of encounters without awakening even one, or you may awaken three or four in a single tussle. I know some players find the randomness annoying, but I love it. You never know when a new--and likely more fabulous--move is going to fall into your lap.

The soundtrack is sublime--And not only that, but it's surprisingly varied. Some tracks, like "Rainy World" and "Sealed Museum," are fairly ambient in nature, while others, like "Clockwork City Gearlock" and "Fiery World," pulsate and soar thanks to plucky piano bits and pleasantly synth-y strings. (My favorite of them all is "Flight," which pops up later in the game but is well worth the wait.) The brilliance of The Alliance Alive soundtrack came as no surprise to me, by the way, as I knew going in that Masashi Hamauzu had composed the bulk of it. Some of his previous credits: Chocobo no Fushigi na Dungeon for the original PlayStation, Final Fantasy X for the PS2, and this title's precursor, The Legend of Legacy. (Psst! You can listen to The Alliance Alive's entire soundtrack here.)

The "water devil dens" provide the game with just the right amount of toughness and creepiness--Truth be told, a lot of The Alliance Alive's content could be called "standard fare." That's not a complaint or a critique; it's a simple statement of fact. What am I talking about here? The locations you explore while wandering the game's expansive map are a good example, as are the beasts you battle along the way. I wouldn't make the same claim about its "water devil dens," though. These optional dungeons dot the landscape and can be accessed via malevolent-looking whirlpools. As you might expect based on their name, they're teeming with some of the nastiest baddies in the whole game. The best thing about these "dens," in my opinion: they give The Alliance Alive a sense of otherworldly tension that helps it break free from the "typical JRPG" mold the game's developers seemingly used to create a good chunk of the rest of this sprawling adventure. (The next best thing about them: the creepy lines enemies spout before battles begin.)

Once it finally clicked, The Alliance Alive's guild system proved to be surprisingly cool (not to mention helpful)--Another aspect of The Alliance Alive that helps it steer clear of "cookie cutter" territory are the guild towers that stick out from the surrounding environment like giant, Victorian weather vanes. Early on, it's hard to make heads or tails of these structures and their inhabitants. The game attempts to explain things, but none of it clicked with me until I was a good 20 or so hours into my playthrough. Which is a shame, because once you "get" The Alliance Alive's guild system, you realize what a cool game changer it is. The gist: if you're within a certain range of a guild tower, it may support you in battle. One type stuns all enemies for a turn. Another wallops them with a massive attack. Yet another weakens their defenses. That's awesome in and of itself, of course, but it becomes even more so after you build a network of towers and you come within range of a number of them at the same time. And that's just scratching the surface of the benefits these spires offer players who devote time and energy to them. (To learn more, check out this siliconera.com article.)

It's got a character who fights enemies while sitting inside a duck-shaped "power suit"--And not only that, but she eventually fits it with a floaty so it can cross pools of lava. This character, named Tiggy, isn't the only appealing one in The Alliance Alive, by the way. A few others include a "daemon" lady with fox-like ears and tail, a "beastfolk" that looks to be a cross between a lizard and an antelope, a loud-mouthed penguin, and a youthful, hard-nosed businessman (businessboy?) who uses a wheelchair and wears a pot with a teddy bear strapped to it on his head. That's a long way of saying this game has a colorful cast of characters. Sadly, you can't add that last one--the one with the bear stuck to his noggin--to your party, but believe me when I say you're sure to like a lot of the beings that populate The Alliance Alive despite that unfortunate oversight.

That's not the extent of what I found appealing about The Alliance Alive during the 60-plus hours I devoted to it, mind you. I also loved how its non-player characters change what they say to you based on who's currently serving as your main party member, for example. And I similarly enjoyed being allowed to speed up battles with the press of a button.

Is there any room for improvement after all of the above has been taken into consideration? Definitely. As colorful as its cast of characters is, there's no question it could be even more diverse. (Every human in The Alliance Alive seems to be white, straight, and cisgender.) And I would've killed to be able to add some of its more interesting NPCs, like the aforementioned boy with the stuffed animal attached to his skull, the Guild Girls (see above), and Princess Yukiha to my party, even if only after the end credits rolled.

Don't let those few shortcomings keep you from starting through The Alliance Alive yourself. I found it to be an almost shockingly special title, all things considered, and as such I can't recommend it strongly enough to anyone who still has a 3DS and who typically enjoys role-playing games.