Sorry EOPs but this is real life, the spanish community gets the Baroque translation.
https://www.romhacking.net/translations/6316/
https://www.romhacking.net/translations/6316/
You ever play something so ahead of its time that you could trick someone into believing that it just came out yesterday?
Seriously, what the fuck? 1998? I know Dungeon Hack existed for half a decade before this, and Wizardry a decade before that, but this feels advanced. Like, this might just be me speaking from ignorance, having not played the fifteen years of first-person dungeon crawlers building up to this, but there's something about the entire design philosophy of this that seems modern. Roguelikes weren't new at the time — you know, what with Rogue existing — nor were real-time blobbers, but combining them into one entity that encourages multiple playthroughs to peel back an obfuscated story is something that I last saw in The Binding of Isaac and in precisely zero games before that.
This game is impossibly cool. Let this be the most Hot Topic thing I ever say, but there's something about these hellish industrial land-and-soundscapes that make me feel a sense of belonging. Having a world that's in such an obvious, complete state of disrepair that you can't do much besides band together is a welcome reprieve from our world where everything is awful but the collective populace pretends as though it's fine. Comfort in discomfort; the end-times as impetus to make what's left over better. Of course, that isn't going to stop opportunists like Coffin Man from picking your corpse for loot, but it's not like he's gonna kill you for it, either.
It's a difficult title to discuss, and that's mostly due to how reliant it is on being experienced. This is probably a bit of a nothing statement, given that everything is designed to be experienced by someone, but the actual act of attempting to engage with the game feels more like "the gameplay" than its actual mechanics. Attempting to define this by putting it in neat boxes of clearing rooms and slashing up monsters and leveling up does a disservice to the whole. You cannot break this down into its parts without losing the magic that binds them all together.
I mentioned in my Last Call BBS review that I have a hard time with puzzle-solving because I can't really figure out how to learn how to solve them. With that said, though, brushing through Baroque's cryptic design came naturally to me. It's a game not just of learning, but of risk-management. You learn that Bones are items that can be thrown or consumed to deal enemies and apply buffs, respectively, but what do you do when you find an unidentified Bone on the floor? Do you gnaw on it and risk hurting yourself, or do you toss it at the enemy and risk giving them total invulnerability? When you find a new weapon, do you equip it right away to identify it, or do you avoid doing so because it might have an "adhesive" that makes it impossible to take off? These are basic tenets of Rogue games, but are they really different to puzzles in any meaningful way? You're meant to use your reasoning to figure out what the best course of action should be, and then following that path. Is that distinct from puzzle-solving?
I suppose what makes Baroque work for me is that there's never a binary right or wrong answer. There are good answers, and bad answers, but never right or wrong. Gnawing on a damaging bone will hurt you, but only for 10/20 HP (you start with 99). Stepping on a status pad might afflict you with Lust or Darkness, but only for a minute or two. The game can be harsh, but never unfair. You can never make a single mistake that'll cost you the run; you have to make several mistakes in sequence before you're in danger. I like not being judged completely on a scale of "you did it/you didn't do it". You can succeed here in a lot of different ways, but it's just that some ways are more efficient than others.
Immaculate vibes. It's a wonder that this got a translation nearly 25 years after it released.
Seriously, what the fuck? 1998? I know Dungeon Hack existed for half a decade before this, and Wizardry a decade before that, but this feels advanced. Like, this might just be me speaking from ignorance, having not played the fifteen years of first-person dungeon crawlers building up to this, but there's something about the entire design philosophy of this that seems modern. Roguelikes weren't new at the time — you know, what with Rogue existing — nor were real-time blobbers, but combining them into one entity that encourages multiple playthroughs to peel back an obfuscated story is something that I last saw in The Binding of Isaac and in precisely zero games before that.
This game is impossibly cool. Let this be the most Hot Topic thing I ever say, but there's something about these hellish industrial land-and-soundscapes that make me feel a sense of belonging. Having a world that's in such an obvious, complete state of disrepair that you can't do much besides band together is a welcome reprieve from our world where everything is awful but the collective populace pretends as though it's fine. Comfort in discomfort; the end-times as impetus to make what's left over better. Of course, that isn't going to stop opportunists like Coffin Man from picking your corpse for loot, but it's not like he's gonna kill you for it, either.
It's a difficult title to discuss, and that's mostly due to how reliant it is on being experienced. This is probably a bit of a nothing statement, given that everything is designed to be experienced by someone, but the actual act of attempting to engage with the game feels more like "the gameplay" than its actual mechanics. Attempting to define this by putting it in neat boxes of clearing rooms and slashing up monsters and leveling up does a disservice to the whole. You cannot break this down into its parts without losing the magic that binds them all together.
I mentioned in my Last Call BBS review that I have a hard time with puzzle-solving because I can't really figure out how to learn how to solve them. With that said, though, brushing through Baroque's cryptic design came naturally to me. It's a game not just of learning, but of risk-management. You learn that Bones are items that can be thrown or consumed to deal enemies and apply buffs, respectively, but what do you do when you find an unidentified Bone on the floor? Do you gnaw on it and risk hurting yourself, or do you toss it at the enemy and risk giving them total invulnerability? When you find a new weapon, do you equip it right away to identify it, or do you avoid doing so because it might have an "adhesive" that makes it impossible to take off? These are basic tenets of Rogue games, but are they really different to puzzles in any meaningful way? You're meant to use your reasoning to figure out what the best course of action should be, and then following that path. Is that distinct from puzzle-solving?
I suppose what makes Baroque work for me is that there's never a binary right or wrong answer. There are good answers, and bad answers, but never right or wrong. Gnawing on a damaging bone will hurt you, but only for 10/20 HP (you start with 99). Stepping on a status pad might afflict you with Lust or Darkness, but only for a minute or two. The game can be harsh, but never unfair. You can never make a single mistake that'll cost you the run; you have to make several mistakes in sequence before you're in danger. I like not being judged completely on a scale of "you did it/you didn't do it". You can succeed here in a lot of different ways, but it's just that some ways are more efficient than others.
Immaculate vibes. It's a wonder that this got a translation nearly 25 years after it released.
It's like how people describe taro games except it's actually good
Que cursi va a sonar esto pero va: Baroque lo siento como un incentivo para romper el ciclo.
Se le compara de forma automática con otros títulos solo por etiquetas como "Dungeon Crawler" y "Roguelikes".
Digo de forma automática porque me da la sensación de que cuando alguien se encuentra con propuestas de este tipo así de golpe, pues uno siente tal agobio que necesita encasillarlo rapidamente con algo literal o "mecánico" que encuentre minimamente familiar....ponele. De lo contrario se asusta.
Para mi, Baroque tiene mas similitud con juegos como Mr.Drller: ambos titulos comparten la idea de descender hasta lo más profundo (mayor será la profundidad, mayor será la presión), ambos alteran el progreso en cada nuevo camino y en especial, ambos te educan a tomar decisiones inteligentes saliendo de esa linea recta que creías correcta para poder llegar a distintos resultados, por más que los dos aparenten totalmente opuestos terminan demostrando al final la misma fuerza.
El terror radica en la constante manipulación de una ilusión tipica: creer tener el control de la situación. Como las propias pesadillas, nos controlan sin siquiera poder darnos cuenta en el momento.
Baroque me parece el ejemplo perfecto como respuesta a la tipica frasesita de "el terror en un videojuego funciona gracias a la indefensión". Acá no lo estamos, pero eso no signifique que el juego no dé un cague de miedo terrible porque nos enseña por las malas lo necesario que es afrontar los horrores de la torre, aún si nos ponen en los peores estados posibles. Suena exagerado, pero a mi me recuerda mucho al sentimiento de enfrentar una fobia jodida y tarde o temprano tocará superarlo. Después de todo, herramientas las hay pero los metodos y las respuestas las tenés que saber vos mismo. Lo gracioso es que cuando te crees fuerte por haberlo superado, bueno, aparece otro más jodido después y así hasta el final.
La forma de como a Baroque le gusta reirse de tu inocencia y te putea a lo largo del juego genera como una relación rara entre amor y odio, no sé, una especie de rivalidad curiosa para ver quien le gana a quien, te ve como el mismo gusano de siempre que se clona.
Creía que esta era la faceta definitiva hasta que llego a cierta profundidad y pasa lo mas inesperado: el juego te está suplicando ayuda.
A partir de ESE momento, la mirada de Baroque se me cambió por completo y todo lo que me sucedió atrás comenzó a cobrar un sentido totalmente distinto. La rivalidad muere por completo y pareciera que ya a estas alturas el juego quiere que haga todo lo posible para llegar al último piso.
Al retomar el camino como la última y la definitiva, la torre responde con mucha ausencia; ya no hay dialogo, ya no hay sustos, ya no hay manipulación, solo superviviencia hasta la meta. Esa falta de personajes y vida se acerca muchísimo a esa sensación cuando paseas por un lugar público donde por el día pasa mucho movimiento pero a la noche no hay nadie.
Si bien el final indica la idea de una aceptación total de la situación, yo personalmente lo interpreto mucho más como la forma ultra potente que tiene Baroque de demostrar una bellisima gratitud mutua.
Fuera del videojuego yo todavía tengo mi propio ciclo y hasta el dia de hoy no lo supero. Me es irónico como un juego que aparenta ser hostil, terrorífico y ultra pesimista me termina dando más fe en poder cambiar las cosas de una vez por todas, por más dificil que sea el proceso.
Se le compara de forma automática con otros títulos solo por etiquetas como "Dungeon Crawler" y "Roguelikes".
Digo de forma automática porque me da la sensación de que cuando alguien se encuentra con propuestas de este tipo así de golpe, pues uno siente tal agobio que necesita encasillarlo rapidamente con algo literal o "mecánico" que encuentre minimamente familiar....ponele. De lo contrario se asusta.
Para mi, Baroque tiene mas similitud con juegos como Mr.Drller: ambos titulos comparten la idea de descender hasta lo más profundo (mayor será la profundidad, mayor será la presión), ambos alteran el progreso en cada nuevo camino y en especial, ambos te educan a tomar decisiones inteligentes saliendo de esa linea recta que creías correcta para poder llegar a distintos resultados, por más que los dos aparenten totalmente opuestos terminan demostrando al final la misma fuerza.
El terror radica en la constante manipulación de una ilusión tipica: creer tener el control de la situación. Como las propias pesadillas, nos controlan sin siquiera poder darnos cuenta en el momento.
Baroque me parece el ejemplo perfecto como respuesta a la tipica frasesita de "el terror en un videojuego funciona gracias a la indefensión". Acá no lo estamos, pero eso no signifique que el juego no dé un cague de miedo terrible porque nos enseña por las malas lo necesario que es afrontar los horrores de la torre, aún si nos ponen en los peores estados posibles. Suena exagerado, pero a mi me recuerda mucho al sentimiento de enfrentar una fobia jodida y tarde o temprano tocará superarlo. Después de todo, herramientas las hay pero los metodos y las respuestas las tenés que saber vos mismo. Lo gracioso es que cuando te crees fuerte por haberlo superado, bueno, aparece otro más jodido después y así hasta el final.
La forma de como a Baroque le gusta reirse de tu inocencia y te putea a lo largo del juego genera como una relación rara entre amor y odio, no sé, una especie de rivalidad curiosa para ver quien le gana a quien, te ve como el mismo gusano de siempre que se clona.
Creía que esta era la faceta definitiva hasta que llego a cierta profundidad y pasa lo mas inesperado: el juego te está suplicando ayuda.
A partir de ESE momento, la mirada de Baroque se me cambió por completo y todo lo que me sucedió atrás comenzó a cobrar un sentido totalmente distinto. La rivalidad muere por completo y pareciera que ya a estas alturas el juego quiere que haga todo lo posible para llegar al último piso.
Al retomar el camino como la última y la definitiva, la torre responde con mucha ausencia; ya no hay dialogo, ya no hay sustos, ya no hay manipulación, solo superviviencia hasta la meta. Esa falta de personajes y vida se acerca muchísimo a esa sensación cuando paseas por un lugar público donde por el día pasa mucho movimiento pero a la noche no hay nadie.
Si bien el final indica la idea de una aceptación total de la situación, yo personalmente lo interpreto mucho más como la forma ultra potente que tiene Baroque de demostrar una bellisima gratitud mutua.
Fuera del videojuego yo todavía tengo mi propio ciclo y hasta el dia de hoy no lo supero. Me es irónico como un juego que aparenta ser hostil, terrorífico y ultra pesimista me termina dando más fe en poder cambiar las cosas de una vez por todas, por más dificil que sea el proceso.
Sent (churned) through the tower (tower) with weapon (sword) in one hand (controller), & a photo-translator in the other to glean (gears pressed against my brain) any sort of narrative (biblical fracture) I could, made for one (zero) of the (thee) most individually (surviving collective) unique (cloned) experiences (death & rebirth) of any media (twisted metal rot - fire purification & holy sacrifice) I have ever lived (died) through.
expressionismo-gótico-noir-"weirdo-watchlist", estranho, hostil, obtuso, perfeito. ocultismo que leva à divinação criativa, tendo Deus como refém.
Su respuesta a la narrativa clásica de videojuego es la repetición con pequeñas variaciones. Es hasta visionario al coger Rogue y añadirle una colección de personajes depresivos y una trama intermitente. El problema: la base de mazmorreo se siente estirada ya desde las primeras partidas, como para aguantar esta repetición. Y no por falta de buenas ideas, que de eso desborda el juego, sino por falta de garra. Con la abundancia de recursos y su exigencia que no va más allá de darle un uso razonable a estos, lo raro es no verte al final de la torre en cada partida. Al no conseguir así transmitir el tormento interno que explicita su texto, nos queda solo el papel del ejecutor.
En la contínua repetición de "purificar" seres corrompidos, Baroque refleja los sentimientos de autoflagelación y tendencias suicidas de la gente que ha sobrevivido a un trauma, que siente que solo merece sufrimiento a pesar de ser las víctimas. Nosotros, como protagonistas, les ofrecemos el fin a su miseria a cambio de beneficio propio. En una conclusión enrevesada de más (con revelaciones de última hora, fusiones entre personajes y planes malvados de suplantar a Dios) Baroque concluye que la posibilidad de curar estos martirios es una falsa ilusión y hay que aceptarlos como parte de uno para poder vivir en paz. Dependerá de cada uno decidir si esta conclusión justifica el camino de miseria que nos ha llevado hasta ahí.
En la contínua repetición de "purificar" seres corrompidos, Baroque refleja los sentimientos de autoflagelación y tendencias suicidas de la gente que ha sobrevivido a un trauma, que siente que solo merece sufrimiento a pesar de ser las víctimas. Nosotros, como protagonistas, les ofrecemos el fin a su miseria a cambio de beneficio propio. En una conclusión enrevesada de más (con revelaciones de última hora, fusiones entre personajes y planes malvados de suplantar a Dios) Baroque concluye que la posibilidad de curar estos martirios es una falsa ilusión y hay que aceptarlos como parte de uno para poder vivir en paz. Dependerá de cada uno decidir si esta conclusión justifica el camino de miseria que nos ha llevado hasta ahí.
I can't read japanese so idk what the fucok is going on but the aesthetics are kino and I'm a masochist for sadistic dung crawlers, just how I like my women too
Really dig the OST and art style but the gameplay is just not for me.
surprisingly fun for a 1996 rogue-like.
the story is pretty weird but i did enjoy it once i started figuring everything out.
how to advance the plot is kind of a puzzle, obtuse at first but very satisfying once you see what you have to do.
the story is pretty weird but i did enjoy it once i started figuring everything out.
how to advance the plot is kind of a puzzle, obtuse at first but very satisfying once you see what you have to do.
I started this game after a friend's recommendation, and very quickly realized it followed the template of a Mystery Dungeon game while doing something completely different and unique with the narrative and atmosphere. I was so engrossed that I wouldn't stop to take screenshots, even though I wanted them to record my memories of playing it and to share it with friends so they can see them and maybe want to play it as well.
The multiple contextual uses for near any item lets you turn most bad situations around, and that level of emergent gameplay is something I haven't seen even on proper MDs. I appreciate how the game trusts the player and doesn't overexplain mechanics, not robbing me of those discoveries.
It's a bummer that the game's biggest moments (the beginning, reaching the bottom of the tower for the first time, and the ending) are largely the same visually (the same CG repeated a number of times from different angles and in each situation with less and less VFX obscuring it, with text on top). There's a different meaning each time but I still wish there was something else for the ending, maybe there wasn't enough budget to produce another FMV and that's why they reused that one so much (or even a longer one, considering you watch it about 10 times in the ending because it's so short).
The game continuing to escalate the narrative every few floors in the last run was very cool and made me not want to stop playing it until I was through it, but then it put me through ~10 floors of pure gameplay with more, and more difficult, monsters as a final challenge, with no NPCs to talk to, which was grueling as well. But I'll grant it that I was storming through the first floors after having seen them before, thinking I knew everything that was in the tower and no longer intimidated by it. But the second I started seeing new floors and new enemies all that affliction came back, which got a laugh out of me.
It was an incredibly interesting game, and I'm very glad I got to play it.
The multiple contextual uses for near any item lets you turn most bad situations around, and that level of emergent gameplay is something I haven't seen even on proper MDs. I appreciate how the game trusts the player and doesn't overexplain mechanics, not robbing me of those discoveries.
It's a bummer that the game's biggest moments (the beginning, reaching the bottom of the tower for the first time, and the ending) are largely the same visually (the same CG repeated a number of times from different angles and in each situation with less and less VFX obscuring it, with text on top). There's a different meaning each time but I still wish there was something else for the ending, maybe there wasn't enough budget to produce another FMV and that's why they reused that one so much (or even a longer one, considering you watch it about 10 times in the ending because it's so short).
The game continuing to escalate the narrative every few floors in the last run was very cool and made me not want to stop playing it until I was through it, but then it put me through ~10 floors of pure gameplay with more, and more difficult, monsters as a final challenge, with no NPCs to talk to, which was grueling as well. But I'll grant it that I was storming through the first floors after having seen them before, thinking I knew everything that was in the tower and no longer intimidated by it. But the second I started seeing new floors and new enemies all that affliction came back, which got a laugh out of me.
It was an incredibly interesting game, and I'm very glad I got to play it.
Sting Entertainment's Baroque attached sci-fi horror aesthetics to a Mystery Dungeon-ian roguelike, with an evil twist. On the gameplay side, two of its most noteworthy characteristics surround the items: Their risk factor (most items must be 'identified' by using them, and plenty of which could backfire and harm the player instead) and their dual-functionality. The former refines the concept of oppressive, high-stakes dungeon-crawling, and adds even more unpredictability to an already RNG-laden genre, but it's the latter that propels this above typical roguelikes: Obsolete equipment and unnecessary pickups can be thrown at enemies for considerable damage, with different properties depending on their type (e.g. elemental weapons deal damage of their respective element when thrown). Sting addressed the hassle of inventory management by simply turning clutter into useful ranged weapons.
They also stand apart for their anomalous areas, transporting players to grotesque, industrial spaces complete with limited visibility and creepy enemies. The effect is at times scary and surreal, like being cast into a nightmare with no end in sight, just floor after floor of desperate struggling against progressively otherworldly monsters. In this sense, Baroque took the original MegaTen equation to the extreme, accentuating both its heavy atmosphere and its mischievous, unforgiving nature.
They also stand apart for their anomalous areas, transporting players to grotesque, industrial spaces complete with limited visibility and creepy enemies. The effect is at times scary and surreal, like being cast into a nightmare with no end in sight, just floor after floor of desperate struggling against progressively otherworldly monsters. In this sense, Baroque took the original MegaTen equation to the extreme, accentuating both its heavy atmosphere and its mischievous, unforgiving nature.
I get it, the Sega Saturn version looks ever so slightly better. Still playing the the PS1 version tho. Tweeking if you think Im finna play a first-person game that rinky dinky ass Saturn controller. Game still slaps tho, shits swagged up off the wazoo.
I felt the need to revisit this because in my review I suggested that the core gameplay loop could get tired very quickly, which seemed antithetical to a game that clearly wants you to take your time with it. I still stand by that evaluation; however, after submitting my review, I then began doing full tower runs every day for like a week. It was painfully easy - aside from a couple of deaths early on while I was still getting used to the game, I have completed every single run of the dungeon I started. Once you're acquainted with the mechanics, you can pretty much stumble through Baroque half-awake, and that's exactly what I did. The gameplay is simple but requires just enough thought that I can use 15% of my brain and use the other 85% for wizard stuff. And yet, for some godsforsaken reason, I couldn't stop. I felt a strange kind of comfort in walking through the Nerve Tower's halls, having become so well-acquainted with them, and each time I saw the credits roll I took the opportunity to chill out to the music and reflect. I should probably see a psychiatrist, but overall I just think Baroque hits all of the right notes for me as a person. I feel comfortable in saying that it's one of my new favorite games, but it's not the kind I'd readily recommend to all of my friends. I am unabashedly in love with the narrative and the world, though, and I'm glad that I had the opportunity to play it.
Si hubiera leído sobre la mecánica de los angeles...
this game fucking sucks
English patch here https://mega.nz/file/0NUFnCAR#Cc35QA1s3tNwaED0Lz6VBI_5w6zZlJh45uBPbxb6xno
Baroque is artistic in its approach to game design and achieves an immensely dreadful atmosphere by combining its bleak aesthetics with simple but arduous gameplay. The objective is simple: make it to the bottom of the tower, but your success can be largely dependent on your luck with random items. You learn bits and pieces about the world through context rather than explanation, which is an approach to storytelling that I've always appreciated. Masaharu Iwata's grim sound arrangements are the perfect backdrop for this experience, and contribute so much to the pure isolation I feel while playing. I felt similar emotions while watching the anime series "Texhnolyze" years ago, but that story has much more of a concern for society than I can say for Baroque. However, this is the kind of game that different people will read in different ways. There are definitely allusions to problems of human civilization, but I find that Baroque is more concerned with understanding Being and the self. This isn't the sort of media I draw concrete conclusions from; I just find tremendous enjoyment in playing it repeatedly while considering any or all of the pieces of this incredible composition.
Really cool, a wholly unique style, and shockingly modern in most of its design. If the movement didn't feel like it was designed for a saturn controller I'd kind of have a hard time believing this really came out when it did. I beat this almost certainly faster than intended, but had a really good time and plan to go back to see more.
Part of that Y2K style that used awkward 3DCG and pre-rendered textures to tell sci-fi stories about machines/souls (Garage, Kowloon's Gate, Malice@Doll), attached to 3D Mystery Dungeon. Too obscure, but fascinating.
Baroque equals distorted pearls a style of art that once prevailed disharmony excess confusion in once upon another time. Age means change.This is the age of great heat. This is the world in destroyed. Baroque equals distorted delusions. in this devastation hold baroque inside yourself should you hope to survive.
Yeah I listen to yabujin. How could you tell?
Autism be damned that boy can hold baroque inside
I feel like going on at length about this game would make it a disservice. Smarter people than I have talked at lenght about the beauty of its eerie aesthetics, its esoteric points of inspiration, and how its story resonates big time with queer and disabled themes.
Its almost a pioneer in rogue-lite mechanics too, and unlike a lot of its peer uses those mechanic to a point, and not just as a skinner box.
I had played, but not completed, the Wii remake before. But this blows it out of the water completely in terms of vibes and aesthetics.
I love this. This is what video games should be. Maybe a bit less hard tho (ngl, I kinda savescummed a bunch for my final run)
Its almost a pioneer in rogue-lite mechanics too, and unlike a lot of its peer uses those mechanic to a point, and not just as a skinner box.
I had played, but not completed, the Wii remake before. But this blows it out of the water completely in terms of vibes and aesthetics.
I love this. This is what video games should be. Maybe a bit less hard tho (ngl, I kinda savescummed a bunch for my final run)
This review contains spoilers
“I no longer believe that my older brother was sacrificed. That is not my sin. Repetition is my sin.”
The world of Baroque is a complex, multi-faceted one. Its atmosphere is uniquely oppressive, dismal, unsettling, and beautiful. The story often develops away from the eyes of the player, leaving the aftermath to be unknowingly stumbled upon. Although there are specific events that need to happen to finish the game, the progression feels very “natural” in how it occurs, with not a lot of explicit guidance given to the player. You're thrown confusedly into the world without information and immediately forced to fend for yourself, only the depths of the unknown Nerve Tower as a goal guiding you forward. Unlike other games with similarly cryptic settings, the game’s mechanics are made pretty clear while allowing room for experiment and strategy. Almost all of the dialogue from the present few nonviolent characters contains some kind of hint for progression or survival. I enjoyed playing through the game with some paper notes I took on my discoveries by my side.
The post-apocalyptic world surrounding the Nerve Tower is all but desolate. Watching the Distorted Ones be completely consumed by their grief, the wasteland –always framed by the Nerve Tower on the horizon– begins to feel more and more barren. Venturing into the depths of the Nerve Tower on the other hand is an alienating experience. Within its darkness works a seemingly infinite array of strange machines, and through gashes in the rusting walls you can faintly hear the humming inner workings of this distorted world. Around every corner lurks something unknown and hostile. The ambient soundtrack is punctuated by the beating of the Protagonist's heart, the inescapable source of his regret. If you’ve read this far and haven’t played the game yourself (get outta here!), I don’t think any description I could write could encapsulate experiencing it for oneself.
Baroque is a game about repetition. You drag yourself through the same decrepit scenery, cut down the same grotesques, drive a bullet through the chest of the world’s unstable god over and over again, all the while listening to the same metallic mantra for hours upon hours. For as engaging as the game systems are, it often feels like a self-inflicted punishment. Like somehow you’ll atone for the sin of being alive by hurting yourself –by endlessly and knowingly sending yourself to die.
In the world of Baroque, the Protagonist has the special ability to purify –to harm, to eradicate. While the player is (pretty aggressively) taught by the Archangel that this is the only meaningful course of action to take in order to restore the world and absolve of their sin, in truth the Protagonist can only free himself from his eternal punishment by his own will, and by his own choice accept impurity, to embrace grief and become something greater than it. Perhaps the game itself explains it best: “Trying to purify the world was, in itself, a distorted delusion. So, what do we do then? Entwine with the distortion without turning away.”
The genius thing about the setting is that the “real” post-fusion world is the exact same as the twisted, corrupt world the Archangel so fervently wishes to destroy. The game’s somewhat indeterminate conclusion asks both the Protagonist and the player to reevaluate their struggle. If you want, you can comfortably return to the same loop of violence, trying in vain to erase the immutable. In fact, there's an even harder bonus dungeon available where +99 equipment is almost a requirement.
This also served as a conclusion that made me think about why I play video games in the first place. Why do I sink hours to years of my time into these intangible activities with nothing to show for it but a number rising in the corner of a display? Why as a lover of video games do I so eagerly return to the hostile depths of the Nerve Tower? Well, I don’t know if I could ever fully answer those questions, but I suppose it’s my baroque –the ephemera I cling to that makes life bearable. I latch onto the fantasy of these virtual worlds that are controlled and predictable, worlds where pure perfection isn't just a delusion.
There’s so much more I could probably elaborate on regarding Baroque’s themes, but again I think that it is best understood through coming to one’s own conclusions. These are my thoughts from immediately after finishing the game, but I'm sure it can be read in a multitude of ways I haven't touched on.
Also, there’s a lot of interesting supplementary material related to the game’s development, including lore tidbits not found in game, and interviews with the game’s artists and developers about how it was created. You can read much of it on this fansite. To me the biggest takeaway is how much love director Kazunari Yonemitsu put into the game, especially his love for video games (e.g. Rogue, Kowloon's Gate, Torneko no Daibouken) and other media.
Perhaps the elephant in the room that I have yet to address is that for lack of better words the game is a little janky. Particularly, the stiff Saturn/PS1 early 3D movement takes some getting used to. At the time of writing, this game is some 24 years old and certainly shows its age in some respects. However I think that this contributes to my previously mentioned point about Baroque's message as not only a message to the player, but a message to the video game loving player, encoded in the gameplay itself, partially constructed as a tribute to monumental titles of the past.
In conclusion(?) I am fascinated by this game. I love it like a treasured friend and am equally terrified of what it tells me about myself.
The world of Baroque is a complex, multi-faceted one. Its atmosphere is uniquely oppressive, dismal, unsettling, and beautiful. The story often develops away from the eyes of the player, leaving the aftermath to be unknowingly stumbled upon. Although there are specific events that need to happen to finish the game, the progression feels very “natural” in how it occurs, with not a lot of explicit guidance given to the player. You're thrown confusedly into the world without information and immediately forced to fend for yourself, only the depths of the unknown Nerve Tower as a goal guiding you forward. Unlike other games with similarly cryptic settings, the game’s mechanics are made pretty clear while allowing room for experiment and strategy. Almost all of the dialogue from the present few nonviolent characters contains some kind of hint for progression or survival. I enjoyed playing through the game with some paper notes I took on my discoveries by my side.
The post-apocalyptic world surrounding the Nerve Tower is all but desolate. Watching the Distorted Ones be completely consumed by their grief, the wasteland –always framed by the Nerve Tower on the horizon– begins to feel more and more barren. Venturing into the depths of the Nerve Tower on the other hand is an alienating experience. Within its darkness works a seemingly infinite array of strange machines, and through gashes in the rusting walls you can faintly hear the humming inner workings of this distorted world. Around every corner lurks something unknown and hostile. The ambient soundtrack is punctuated by the beating of the Protagonist's heart, the inescapable source of his regret. If you’ve read this far and haven’t played the game yourself (get outta here!), I don’t think any description I could write could encapsulate experiencing it for oneself.
Baroque is a game about repetition. You drag yourself through the same decrepit scenery, cut down the same grotesques, drive a bullet through the chest of the world’s unstable god over and over again, all the while listening to the same metallic mantra for hours upon hours. For as engaging as the game systems are, it often feels like a self-inflicted punishment. Like somehow you’ll atone for the sin of being alive by hurting yourself –by endlessly and knowingly sending yourself to die.
In the world of Baroque, the Protagonist has the special ability to purify –to harm, to eradicate. While the player is (pretty aggressively) taught by the Archangel that this is the only meaningful course of action to take in order to restore the world and absolve of their sin, in truth the Protagonist can only free himself from his eternal punishment by his own will, and by his own choice accept impurity, to embrace grief and become something greater than it. Perhaps the game itself explains it best: “Trying to purify the world was, in itself, a distorted delusion. So, what do we do then? Entwine with the distortion without turning away.”
The genius thing about the setting is that the “real” post-fusion world is the exact same as the twisted, corrupt world the Archangel so fervently wishes to destroy. The game’s somewhat indeterminate conclusion asks both the Protagonist and the player to reevaluate their struggle. If you want, you can comfortably return to the same loop of violence, trying in vain to erase the immutable. In fact, there's an even harder bonus dungeon available where +99 equipment is almost a requirement.
This also served as a conclusion that made me think about why I play video games in the first place. Why do I sink hours to years of my time into these intangible activities with nothing to show for it but a number rising in the corner of a display? Why as a lover of video games do I so eagerly return to the hostile depths of the Nerve Tower? Well, I don’t know if I could ever fully answer those questions, but I suppose it’s my baroque –the ephemera I cling to that makes life bearable. I latch onto the fantasy of these virtual worlds that are controlled and predictable, worlds where pure perfection isn't just a delusion.
There’s so much more I could probably elaborate on regarding Baroque’s themes, but again I think that it is best understood through coming to one’s own conclusions. These are my thoughts from immediately after finishing the game, but I'm sure it can be read in a multitude of ways I haven't touched on.
Also, there’s a lot of interesting supplementary material related to the game’s development, including lore tidbits not found in game, and interviews with the game’s artists and developers about how it was created. You can read much of it on this fansite. To me the biggest takeaway is how much love director Kazunari Yonemitsu put into the game, especially his love for video games (e.g. Rogue, Kowloon's Gate, Torneko no Daibouken) and other media.
Perhaps the elephant in the room that I have yet to address is that for lack of better words the game is a little janky. Particularly, the stiff Saturn/PS1 early 3D movement takes some getting used to. At the time of writing, this game is some 24 years old and certainly shows its age in some respects. However I think that this contributes to my previously mentioned point about Baroque's message as not only a message to the player, but a message to the video game loving player, encoded in the gameplay itself, partially constructed as a tribute to monumental titles of the past.
In conclusion(?) I am fascinated by this game. I love it like a treasured friend and am equally terrified of what it tells me about myself.
Most people probably don’t realize that every item is a weapon that can be thrown at the enemy. Instead of dropping items when overburdened, get familiar with chucking swords and pieces of cloth at the grotesques. I might not have beaten the game without doing this.
o texhnolyze dos roguelikes
I'm sorry Baroque fans, style over substance is a real issue with this game.
Now that I caught your attention, I'll go on over why I think this game is poorly made. So I guess I'll have to start with the good part of the game to see if we are on the same page with that, the art style/aesthetic seems to be what most people like about this game and I totally agree! This game rules visually it has what people call "Soul", so don't worry Baroque Soul Squad I'm on your side, but that's pretty much all this game has to offer.
Now let's get down to business, First of all, I hate the gameplay loop. It's honestly not terrible at first but then you realize that it's the very same gameplay loop for the entire game, walking through the exact same room, and same corridors for over 20+ floors in a row and relying on RNG to get enough item to survive, it's not fun! And what irritates me the most in this game is that the goal is not just to get to a set amount of floors to get the ending, no, no, no... You have to do some "invisible" trigger quest to activate the ending or else it wouldn't be fun right? Well without a guide it's literally impossible to guess what you have to do, It's all too cryptic and to me, a game that ends up being pretty much impossible to beat without a guide cannot be considered good and if it's a secret ending why not but the main ending of the game hidden in small stupid precise events is just... frustrating.
And while I'm here I guess I'll trash the story as well, it's just nonsensical babbling, I do agree that the idea is cool but the game doesn't explain anything to you, they just expect you to understand this mash of information that just means nothing! I keep seeing people writing on and on about it but it's just theories and speculations, most of them are just people reading vague Japanese bits of info translated into English and made-up theories, I'm glad they are having fun but as a game story it just means nothing.
So yeah I do understand why people love the uniqueness and charm of the game but I don't understand why people rate it 5/5 as if it was the greatest thing they've ever played, I wonder if most of them even finished it, no offense.
Now that I caught your attention, I'll go on over why I think this game is poorly made. So I guess I'll have to start with the good part of the game to see if we are on the same page with that, the art style/aesthetic seems to be what most people like about this game and I totally agree! This game rules visually it has what people call "Soul", so don't worry Baroque Soul Squad I'm on your side, but that's pretty much all this game has to offer.
Now let's get down to business, First of all, I hate the gameplay loop. It's honestly not terrible at first but then you realize that it's the very same gameplay loop for the entire game, walking through the exact same room, and same corridors for over 20+ floors in a row and relying on RNG to get enough item to survive, it's not fun! And what irritates me the most in this game is that the goal is not just to get to a set amount of floors to get the ending, no, no, no... You have to do some "invisible" trigger quest to activate the ending or else it wouldn't be fun right? Well without a guide it's literally impossible to guess what you have to do, It's all too cryptic and to me, a game that ends up being pretty much impossible to beat without a guide cannot be considered good and if it's a secret ending why not but the main ending of the game hidden in small stupid precise events is just... frustrating.
And while I'm here I guess I'll trash the story as well, it's just nonsensical babbling, I do agree that the idea is cool but the game doesn't explain anything to you, they just expect you to understand this mash of information that just means nothing! I keep seeing people writing on and on about it but it's just theories and speculations, most of them are just people reading vague Japanese bits of info translated into English and made-up theories, I'm glad they are having fun but as a game story it just means nothing.
So yeah I do understand why people love the uniqueness and charm of the game but I don't understand why people rate it 5/5 as if it was the greatest thing they've ever played, I wonder if most of them even finished it, no offense.
Holy fuck that was amazing! I ususally get really bored of rougelikes after a while due to me mostly finding their loop boring, but fuck I loved this one.
I loved the greater focus on the atompshere then the gameplay, the dunegon feels punishing and unwelcoming with monsters that as best want to steal your shit and worse just kill you. The music aswell just feels you with dread and god it's great.
Now the gameplay... I actually enjoyed it quite a lot, while controlling doesn't feel all that good, the game never failed to make think and plan out what items I should use next in order to the next floor.
Love this game to bits.
Edit:
Lol it turns out I got the "bad ending", dw I'll beat get the rest of the endings.
I loved the greater focus on the atompshere then the gameplay, the dunegon feels punishing and unwelcoming with monsters that as best want to steal your shit and worse just kill you. The music aswell just feels you with dread and god it's great.
Now the gameplay... I actually enjoyed it quite a lot, while controlling doesn't feel all that good, the game never failed to make think and plan out what items I should use next in order to the next floor.
Love this game to bits.
Edit:
Lol it turns out I got the "bad ending", dw I'll beat get the rest of the endings.
Paraclesius! Put on dat Fugue In D Minor!