Okami HD is worth playing as a piece of gaming history or if you’re especially fond of the gameplay loop popularized by the Legend of Zelda series. Okami’s art style and its celestial brush mechanic are both impressive, and I’m surprised there haven’t been more iterations on them since Okami’s release. The game also stands out as one of the earliest Zelda-like games (that I can remember) that still manages to have its own identity — both mechanically and in its personality. As for Okami HD’s short comings, they aren’t as easily overlooked as they may have been in the past. The game’s crass and bawdy humor feels like an attempt to make a kid-friendly version of comedy popular at the time with South Park and Family Guy. Far more egregious than its lame jokes, though, are the game’s minor, but very repetitive, technical and mechanical issues that should have been excised in the remastering process.
Okami’s most notable and positive feature is its art style. It’s beautiful cel-shaded design, inspired by traditional Japanese painting styles, isn’t just a joy to look at and see in motion — it compliments Okami’s themes of regrowth and the importance of storytelling. Every time you restore an area that’s been taken over by Evil vibes, a beautiful cinematic plays as the zone erupts in bright and vibrant colors. Those restorations are paired with gaining “praise,” which is the game’s form of experience, from the people whom your heroic deeds have saved or improved the lives of.
The art direction also adds to Okami’s standout mechanic of the “celestial brush.” Rather than linking multiple game mechanics to an assortment of equipment and weapons, like the Zelda games it takes inspiration from, Okami has you paint different symbols on the screen with a calligraphy brush to enact different skills. It’s an interesting way to change up the formula of a Zelda game, and it’s (usually) a fun way to interact with Okami’s world. One of the most frequent uses of the brush is drawing circles around plants to induce a sudden bloom of leaves and petals, and it never stopped being a joyful and satisfying visual experience.
Another way Okami differentiates itself from Zelda games is in its characters’ personalities — chiefly through humor. Both Amaterasu, the white wolf you play as, and her partner, a “poncle” (sort of like a fairy in western traditions) named Issun, are frequently the butt of the game’s jokes. And while Amaterasu doesn’t speak, Issun talks enough for them both, as he constantly fires off quips and expository ramblings. Unfortunately, most of Okami’s “jokes” retread the same sophomoric material with Issun obsessing over boobs, making snide and sarcastic remarks at the people you’re helping, or erupting into over-the-top tirades in response to minor misunderstandings. And, look, I’ve played enough Japanese games and watched enough anime for this stuff to elicit nothing more than an eyeroll from me — but it’s so constant in Okami that my eyes were turning into spirals.
Whereas Okami’s humor only annoyed me, its technical and mechanical issues are where I began to actively dislike my experience of the game. None are particularly terrible, but there are so many minor issues that feel like obvious fixes for a remaster like Okami HD. The most frustrating of these are the constant breaks in flow caused by load times, repetitive short cinematics tied to collectibles and the game’s day/night cycle, repetitive notifications for item pickups, and how certain menus and dialogs are structured. You’re able to skip the repeated cinematics, but you must wait for them to start before you can prompt a skip. Okami also has one of the most frustrating cameras I’ve experienced in a while. The camera is fine 90% of the time, but nearly every platforming challenge lacks a view that conveys depth and distance clearly. Though relatively minor, these issues add up over Okami HD’s runtime: just completing the campaign takes about 40 hours; if you, like me, feel compelled to try and complete every collectible list and side quest, you’re looking at 60 hrs or more.
I think every game-ophile owes it to themself to play Okami HD — for about 5 to 10 hours — and experience its art direction, the celestial brush mechanic, and to enjoy a piece of gaming history. It’s an interesting variation on one of gaming’s cornerstones, the Legend of Zelda series, but stands on its own merits. But despite those merits, it doesn’t earn the time needed to play through it completely.
What I like about Okami HD
• The art direction — this game is gorgeous, and it’s a damn shame there aren’t more titles that do similar things with cel-shaded graphics.
• Overcoming blighted regions by regrowing and renewing the lands, plants, and animals looks amazing and feels very cathartic in our current age of climate crisis and mass extinction.
• Okami’s narrative is a threading together of different Japanese myths and legends. I don’t think it works as a complete story, but the retellings are fun to experience as standalone missions tweaked to incorporate gameplay mechanics.
Why you might want to skip Okami HD
• The constant stop and start to the flow of play, caused by a variety of Okami’s mechanics, interfaces, and load times, can be a “death by a thousand cuts” experience for your patience. Especially if you’re a completionist.
• Okami’s crude humor is so constant, and specifically misogynistic, that it gets grating very quickly.
Okami’s most notable and positive feature is its art style. It’s beautiful cel-shaded design, inspired by traditional Japanese painting styles, isn’t just a joy to look at and see in motion — it compliments Okami’s themes of regrowth and the importance of storytelling. Every time you restore an area that’s been taken over by Evil vibes, a beautiful cinematic plays as the zone erupts in bright and vibrant colors. Those restorations are paired with gaining “praise,” which is the game’s form of experience, from the people whom your heroic deeds have saved or improved the lives of.
The art direction also adds to Okami’s standout mechanic of the “celestial brush.” Rather than linking multiple game mechanics to an assortment of equipment and weapons, like the Zelda games it takes inspiration from, Okami has you paint different symbols on the screen with a calligraphy brush to enact different skills. It’s an interesting way to change up the formula of a Zelda game, and it’s (usually) a fun way to interact with Okami’s world. One of the most frequent uses of the brush is drawing circles around plants to induce a sudden bloom of leaves and petals, and it never stopped being a joyful and satisfying visual experience.
Another way Okami differentiates itself from Zelda games is in its characters’ personalities — chiefly through humor. Both Amaterasu, the white wolf you play as, and her partner, a “poncle” (sort of like a fairy in western traditions) named Issun, are frequently the butt of the game’s jokes. And while Amaterasu doesn’t speak, Issun talks enough for them both, as he constantly fires off quips and expository ramblings. Unfortunately, most of Okami’s “jokes” retread the same sophomoric material with Issun obsessing over boobs, making snide and sarcastic remarks at the people you’re helping, or erupting into over-the-top tirades in response to minor misunderstandings. And, look, I’ve played enough Japanese games and watched enough anime for this stuff to elicit nothing more than an eyeroll from me — but it’s so constant in Okami that my eyes were turning into spirals.
Whereas Okami’s humor only annoyed me, its technical and mechanical issues are where I began to actively dislike my experience of the game. None are particularly terrible, but there are so many minor issues that feel like obvious fixes for a remaster like Okami HD. The most frustrating of these are the constant breaks in flow caused by load times, repetitive short cinematics tied to collectibles and the game’s day/night cycle, repetitive notifications for item pickups, and how certain menus and dialogs are structured. You’re able to skip the repeated cinematics, but you must wait for them to start before you can prompt a skip. Okami also has one of the most frustrating cameras I’ve experienced in a while. The camera is fine 90% of the time, but nearly every platforming challenge lacks a view that conveys depth and distance clearly. Though relatively minor, these issues add up over Okami HD’s runtime: just completing the campaign takes about 40 hours; if you, like me, feel compelled to try and complete every collectible list and side quest, you’re looking at 60 hrs or more.
I think every game-ophile owes it to themself to play Okami HD — for about 5 to 10 hours — and experience its art direction, the celestial brush mechanic, and to enjoy a piece of gaming history. It’s an interesting variation on one of gaming’s cornerstones, the Legend of Zelda series, but stands on its own merits. But despite those merits, it doesn’t earn the time needed to play through it completely.
What I like about Okami HD
• The art direction — this game is gorgeous, and it’s a damn shame there aren’t more titles that do similar things with cel-shaded graphics.
• Overcoming blighted regions by regrowing and renewing the lands, plants, and animals looks amazing and feels very cathartic in our current age of climate crisis and mass extinction.
• Okami’s narrative is a threading together of different Japanese myths and legends. I don’t think it works as a complete story, but the retellings are fun to experience as standalone missions tweaked to incorporate gameplay mechanics.
Why you might want to skip Okami HD
• The constant stop and start to the flow of play, caused by a variety of Okami’s mechanics, interfaces, and load times, can be a “death by a thousand cuts” experience for your patience. Especially if you’re a completionist.
• Okami’s crude humor is so constant, and specifically misogynistic, that it gets grating very quickly.