Hige vs. Otaku

This entry is brought to by the letters A, B and C. A certain Collective of Anime Bloggers who, this time, consist of  CCYoshi,  J. Valdez,  Karura, Martin, Mike, Owen, Roxas and Xerox

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Ghost Hound Eps. 2 – 4

The show took its time in laying out the main cast and their various connections, but by episode four we get a semblance of direction. Visiting the ubiquitous hospital where Tarou has eerie memories of his sister (who varies from conversational and alive to corpsetastic and fly-ridden), the trio of boys all have out-of-body experiences and turn into gimpy alien things (or spectral projections, if you will). Judging by Miyako’s nebulous comment on the Unseen World the hospital might be some kind of entrance into an O.B.E style alternative reality, which suggests a basis for the forthcoming events of the series. Episode four actually had a surprising sense of humour considering the FUCK MY HEAD experiences of prior episodes. The weird bits of flesh around the arse and ears of the gimpy spectral versions of the boys were surprisingly whimsical (the overall design being oddly silly for GH). Masayuki’s vanity when commanded to have his haircut during the Shinto cleansing ritual was an uncharacteristically jovial way to end episode four, too. Perhaps now we’ve got the M.O. of Ghost Hound in our sights, with the whole ‘traumatic childhood memory’ fixation being resolved/exhausted, we might get something less inclined to rape our minds. Or at least, be gentler about it.

Dennou Coil Eps. 1 – 6

It took the avid recommendations of Batezsi and Karura, but I’m officially on the Dennou Coil bandwagon and officially loving the crap out of it. There’s been enough analysis in the blogging sphere to explain its charms, but I will add it’s the first anime since Honey & Clover that I wouldn’t hesitate to show to non-otaku. Given enough support and hype it could easily etch out respectable love from the British viewing public. And I mean the Viewing Public, not just anime fans. Sometimes I whither at the degree of prestige Ghost in the Shell mines from its first film; not because it was undeserved and misused by the franchise (GitS: SAC & 2nd speak for themselves) but because it seemingly made any sci-fi anime that isn’t GitS a hard sell in this country. But then calling DC sci-fi does it a disservice somehow. The sci-fi elements are exciting and fun, a resilient gimmick, but it’s the fundamentals like the characters that truly make it great (like all things). And Densuke, obviously.

Derivative. Simple. Uninspired. After the first six hours of playing Blue Dragon you may well find yourself responding with, ‘Yeah, and?’ The criticisms levelled at this game (this review being something of a response rather than an analysis) seem to be built on misinformed expectations. Being the herald of JRPGs on the RPG destitute 360 platform, made by a creative team unmatched in the industry, people subconsciously set their sights to the sky. Apparently, these sights had a shopping list full of specific objectives that had to be met in order for it to be anything approaching a success. Whispers of Chrono Trigger’s dream team reforming whipped up irrational fantasy of what might be coming; the splintered Sakaguchi now owning his own production company encouraged theories of an experience more Final Fantasy than Final Fantasy had been for years. And all we got was Blue Dragon; dumb, pretty and a whole buggerload of fun.

The visual presentation of Blue Dragon is perhaps the least contentious aspect of the package. While faultless in terms of design (a university thesis could be written on the unanimous appeal of Akira Toriyama’s simplistic art style) the technical prowess of the game rarely astounds the player. It serves its purpose to a T, unquestionably, but there have been more spectacular examples of RPG visuals on PS2 games. But, as with most of Blue Dragon’s intentional restraint, flash is not the point. As a cohesive whole the game stands proud with the best of them in being consistently outstanding with its production values.

The gameplay, however, is where many players will feel tested. While archaic in many overt ways, Mistwalker have sympathetically applied a number of modern design ideals to Blue Dragon’s battle system to sooth the burn. Battles are turn-based and menu-based, but their instigation is entirely at the disposal of the player; no irritating random encounters to whinge about on comment sections and forums. The introduction of a field of attack – a sort of circular radius triggered by the left trigger that engages battle with all enemies within its circumference – makes tackling numerous enemies at once quite painless. Moreover, if you battle more than one set of monsters at a time Blue Dragon provides a slot-machine of stat boosts between each battle to help you on your way.  The battle system makes little effort to innovate the classic model, looking to refine rather than redefine, but it sits perfectly within the whole ethos of the game.

After searching through your first poo, avec charming ‘squelch squelch’ sound effect, it becomes clear how to assess the achievements and failures of Blue Dragon. Obvious aesthetic similarities aside, Blue Dragon is more like Dragon Quest than Final Fantasy in that it, simply, is completely populous in its intentions; perhaps even to the point of being childish. No mature convoluted storyline; no fiddly battle system; no stats overload. Blue Dragon is a streamlined compilation of all that is pure about the genre and as a result a very enjoyable, albeit derivative, experience. If you come to play the game in the mind-set of a twelve-year-old with an eye for refined design values, then Blue Dragon is a worthy purchase. Come stamping towards it demanding Innovation, Drama, Emotion (befitting for its prodigious creative team) then seemingly you’ve missed the point. Blue Dragon is the Saturday morning cartoon of JRPGs; intensely charming, moreish in base, hard-to-articulate ways, but ultimately entirely disposable.