81 Reviews liked by Dogninja


Feels good to truly adore another 2D Metroid besides Super. And while Dread isn't quite as cohesive as the former, everything that makes the series great is on full display. The progression, intuitive level design and minimalistic approach to storytelling are especially phenomenal, and this is by far and away the best Samus has ever felt to play.

Playing all the previous 2D Metroids before it was also deeply rewarding, and I'd recommend it to anyone wanting the optimal experience with this game, despite not being a requirement.

Reflecting on this story, I come to find that no words can truly paint everything i felt and experienced through these characters, who despite being fiction, felt very human and real. My time reading through this will be remembered forever.

Where do I start, undeniably the best Yakuza has to offer when it comes to character writing, story, side-cast, antagonists, music and payoff, the side content is up there among the best.

It's only a bit lacking in the gameplay section, but that's understandable since this is the first dragon engine game.

The way Kiryu's arc comes to an end here is not simply through what the series says about living, but also its overarching themes of parenthood from way back in Yakuza 1...it's magical even, Hard to describe it with words when I have tears all over my face. RGG fucking killed it.



This review contains spoilers

Before anything else, I believe its appropriate to briefly discuss the soundtrack and what it accomplishes. From lighthearted moments shared between the cousins to the tense air surrounding the family’s inheritance affairs, EP1’s OST serves as the ideal companion to the story’s gradually shifting atmosphere, with goldenslaughter executing the episodes tone shift just as effectively as the first time I read it. It may not have the tracks Umineko is most remembered for, but it achieves what it sets out to do to perfection.

Moving onto the actual writing, its important to acknowledge what first impressions mean in Umineko. The airport scene is the audience’s first encounter with most of the Ushiromiya family, who make up a large portion of Umineko’s cast. More importantly, it is the last time Eva, Rudolf and Rosa will collectively be portrayed as the ‘likable’ siblings. Rosa is a charitable woman and the ideal mother. Eva/Rudolf are a fun, playful pair that a number of brothers and sisters will likely find themselves identifying with. The more chapters we progress through, the more we understand our first impression deceived us. Once the story moves onto mansion, a different face appears on these characters. We soon find one of those playful siblings repeatedly tormenting an already sympathetic Natsuhi for reasons the audience are not yet aware of. Shortly after, Maria's loving mother is seen mercilessly beating her daughter in front of the cousins. However, the episode continues to dig into their characters by giving us a small portion of their depth that would later be expanded on in the following episodes.

Perhaps the single most fascinating character showcased in EP1 is somebody we meet in the story’s very first scene, the family head himself: Kinzo Ushiromiya. There is virtually no consistency within Kinzo's characterization. In his first appearance, we see a sympathetic old man breaking down under past regrets, wanting nothing but to see a certain woman’s smile. A similar scene is shown a few chapters after, however, there is a notable difference. Rather than portraying him sympathetically, the words beneath his weeping hold a far more possessive, disturbing implication behind them. Unless we’re to pay close attention, this difference is very easy to overlook. Few chapters later, this is no longer the case. Kinzo's weeping is replaced by optimism and his fascination with magic finally makes itself known. This is built on in our next meeting with him as he shows a more competitive persona that is confident in his capability to snatch the aforementioned woman’s smile. Before his death, we’re shown Kinzo one last time with arguably the most jarring portrayal of his character yet. In front of Natsuhi, Kinzo is shown as the proud head of the Ushiromiya family. While his stance toward the siblings is unchanging, the tone of his speech is far more composed. We see his first act of kindness as he allows the suffering Natsuhi to regain her lost self-esteem with the implication that she, more so than any of his children, is worthy of becoming head of the family. Based off these scenes, making out who Kinzo is meant to be is nigh impossible. It is only at the very end of EP1 that we receive more insight on his character through his servants and the cousin's interpretation of their words.

The significance behind these scenes not only forces us to contemplate who Kinzo is, but it also adds intrigue behind the woman whose smile he yearned for, Beatrice. Until the tea party, Beatrice is not a character. We have no idea who or what Beatrice is supposed to be. The cousins theorize who this Beatrice could possibly, with guesses ranging all over the place. That in itself is the force that drives the narrative forward.

Along with Kinzo and Beatrice, a third character who heavily contributes to the plot of EP1 is Maria. Unlike the former two names mentioned, she is consistently present throughout the episode. What distinguishes her from the rest of the cast is she does not abide by conventional logic. Early on, her belief in magic is viewed innocently as something several girls her age might be interested in. It is not long after when we’re reminded yet again that first impressions in Umineko are not reliable. We begin to see the nature of how Maria operates as she stubbornly stands outside in the middle of a harsh rainstorm after being abandoned by Rosa. Her fixation on a single rose seen earlier that day tells us that they (Battler and the cousins) are not dealing with a regular girl, and that becomes even more apparent directly after the first twilight when the first 6 victims are killed. Fortunately, George gives the cousins, as well as the audience, an understanding for Maria’s disturbing speech and indifference to everyone’s deaths. We’re led to believe that this knowledge in mind would protect her strange behavior from their judgement. It is because of this belief that the slowly growing intolerance toward her becomes especially effective in showcasing how their predicament is impacting them. Despite how conflicted the cousin’s feel at the sight of Rosa beating Maria, they begin to share in her frustration after a certain point. Maria’s stubbornness and inability to cooperate with others drives the remaining cast into madness as everybody in the mansion is dying. until the boiling point is reached when Natsuhi points her gun at Maria and she’s forced outside, where its presumed the killer is waiting for them. Oh yeah and Natsuhi is pretty good here too I guess.

The last thing I’ll mention is how well this sets up the mysteries for the rest of the story. As Ryukishi dubs it, the concept of Anti-Mystery vs Anti-Fantasy is an innovative approach to the genre that is fascinating off its premise alone. The EP1 tea party only solidifies this as we’re given a new layer of depth to look at when determining what kind of mystery story Umineko truly is.

tl;dr EP1 is good as fuck

When EarthBound arrived on Wii U in 2013, my oldest friend and I made a day of it. I mean we took the time to walk over to the local GameStop down by the bagel shop and pick up a physical download code. We'd both seen and heard references to EarthBound from time to time alluding to its weirdness, its hidden layers, and its mythical status, but redeeming the purchase revealed something else. We settled on the default names (though I can't say I recommend it), sat on the carpet in front of the TV, and spent all afternoon strolling through Onett and hanging out with its characters. There was something eerily comfortable about this little cartoon suburb, with its restaurants, hotels, and nonsense-spewing adults. What I now realize is that, despite there being psychic powers and talking alien bees, I'd never experienced a setting in a videogame, or possibly anywhere, with an atmosphere as earnest or authentic. We didn't so much as reach the Titanic Ant before my friend had to go home, resolving then to download the game for himself, but that first afternoon with the game had already burrowed deep inside my memory.

EarthBound's mundanity is as core to its identity as any of the wild idiosyncrasies it's known for. To wander its familiar towns, talk with weirdos and pick up friends and souvenirs and memories is to gaze into a heightened mirror of reality, exaggerated in its warmth and darkness. It somehow manages to achieve this while also being as playful and thorough an RPG adventure as any, packed with color and variety and laugh-out-loud surprises and genuine scares. With a hilarious sense of humor that manifests in quirky, sometimes endearingly inconvenient game mechanics, excellent taste in music, and an equal degree of world-wisdom, playing EarthBound always feels like hanging out with another person who's been places and seen things that you or I might only imagine. It's the only game I could believe might actually possess a living soul.

I was in middle school when I started EarthBound, and I wouldn't finish it until the summer before college (what can I say, time flies). I'd moved away from our neighborhood by the time I reached the endgame, and invited my oldest friend to join me. Sure enough, he did. We sat down on the couch in front of the TV. I don't remember if I exactly cried during the finale, but even now, after more replays than I care to admit, it resonates. I felt back then this burning realization that, in some cosmic way, EarthBound had probably understood me more than I did, all along. Maybe it still does.

There does not exist an entity in the entirety of our conceivable universe that deserves happiness less than people who whine about JRPGs.

In every sense of the words, completely and absolutely, cope and seethe. And go back to Reddit while you're at it.

Renya Goated, just wanted to bang his hot teacher and i can respect the hell out of that

Play Bird in the Hand even if we scare the hoes away

Final Fantasy X is an epic road trip romance fantasy, sci-fi mystery conspiracy thriller, part-time sports drama, full-time daddy issues simulator, spiralling rumination on the nature of death, grief, hope, and forgiveness, Japanese role-playing mind-bending politico-navigational adventure. It is a masterclass in world-building and plotting. It is the heart on the sleeve of the video game industry.

To play this game is to refuse despair. To play this game is to engage with, and battle against, notions of racial supremacy. To play this game is to target systems of higher power and tear them down, one suit and tie at a time, until all of the historical abuses, lies, and hypocrisies are laid bare on the dirt for everyone to see.

Final Fantasy X unironically frames friendship—friendship tested by ingrained prejudices that have been expertly woven by the powerful, so finely that you can’t see the stitches, so long ago that you can’t begin to know where their commands begin and your opinions end—as the solution to depression, oppression, and cyclical violence maintained by the wealthy and the powerful. It frames friendship as radical. It frames friendship not only as a political choice, but as the political choice. Embrace the alien or kill them. Love the foreigner or hate them. What do you choose? And how do you turn that choice into action, rather than empty words? Friendship is a political pressure that, when applied radically, can and must snap the status quo in two.

That is what Final Fantasy X is. A manifesto of hope. An agenda of friendship. A fearless reaching out of hands across the border.

It presents this thematically through its magnificent plot and character interactions, while also presenting it mechanically through its rapid-fire rotational party member system. We can overcome even the insurmountable monsters of this world by working together, it is saying, by covering each other’s weaknesses and by building upon each other’s strengths. We can bring about real change with our revolving cast of radical friendship warriors. No matter the first impression, no matter the lies that we have let ourselves believe about one another in the past, we choose to work together, now, and to love each other, forever.

In a similar vein, Final Fantasy X is also about taking charge of your own life, being the change that you want to see in the world, and standing firm in the face of despair. Again, it is about choice. “Now is the time to choose,” the elder of the group, Auron, tells his comrades at one of the most heart-stopping, pivotal points in the story, when the lies, hubris, and the violent depths of those in power are undressed fully before you. “Die and be free of pain. Or live and fight your sorrows. Now is the time to shape your stories. Your fate is in your hands.”

Our lives often appear prescribed by those in power over us, by parents, bosses, and politicians, by the wealthy, by the trappings of poverty, by manipulative and violent headlines in the press, by the black and white messages we consume in television and film, by the hopeless voices in the back of our minds whispering, it’s no good, there’s no point, nothing will ever change. Yet, armed with the radical belief that anybody can be our friend, and backed up by the foreigner, the queer, the outsider, and the beast man with the broken horn, we can overcome anything, everything, no matter how high the climb or big the monster. We can bring about change. We can demand better than the endless spiral of abuse, lies, and death that is inflicted upon us by those in control.

This is Final Fantasy X. This is your story.

This review contains spoilers

Shoutouts to Rindo for being the first introvert to actually get the elusive goth gf, proud of him

At its most fundamental the narrative of Shadowbringers feels alienating, removing us from Eorzea and placing us in a situation that’s seemingly so backwards. A world corrupted by a blinding light so strong it abolished the night, and it’s with this ambiguity of your role as the “Warrior of Light” where Shadowbringers starts to cook all of it’s mastery. Calling into question the unending battle between light and dark that plagues both the series and typical RPG’s, and using the opportunity to instead muse upon the true beating heart of conflict, heroism.

Unlike a work such as AoT which directly criticizes heroism as a shackle which forever catalyzes the endless cycle of violence, Shadowbringers endeavors to celebrate its roots and the righteousness which defines it. By reflecting upon itself through the multi-layered conflict that the lands of Norvrandt contain, we don’t only see the wide and equally personal impact of heroes, but also their necessity. Not only to protect, persevere, and save, but to inspire for our future as the ultimate symbols of both will and humanity at large.

Yet heroism isn’t reserved for just the light, just as Hydaelyn has her champion, so does Zodiark. Each with its own legacy to carry forward, its own right to fight, its own desire for happiness, its own claim to exist. Through this climactic battle of wills and morals is where XIV finds not only it’s strongest emotional beats, but a commentary that will shake anyone cognizant of modern society to their very core.

I’m purely discussing macro here though, because when observing the micro Shadowbringers has a lot of nagging issues consistent with XIV and even of its own design. Yet it’s in the aggregate where you really see the true beauty and elegance of what it was able to accomplish. Ultimately the sin eaters are no different than the Garleans or Dravanias, they are oppressors all the same, but through Norvrandt’s crisis is where XIV is finally able to illuminate its soul, You. The hero who never buckled to your oppressors and continued to keep moving forward, above man and god, towards hell and past it, only to find the answer at the end of the infinite, a glimmer of hope, everlasting.

“Fate can be cruel, but a smile better suits a hero.”

While Persona 4 doesn't excel in any area compared to the other two games, it's ability to combine both the most immersive world through Inaba in an RPG I've played yet and an entertaining/unique cast that constantly made me smile is what makes it so special to me. It constantly reaffirms the "truth" theme in an enthralling mystery story despite some weak points towards the end. Not even talking about the beautiful OST and overall presentation, and everything else that makes the Persona series so great. I'm so happy I had such a great turnaround on this game, and I'm sure it'll stay as one of my favorite games of all time.

While I cannot in good conscience call it perfect, or even the best Final Fantasy game, Final Fantasy VIII is indeed a contender for my favorite video game. It is an acquired taste, but should you be a part of the very specific audience that it is aimed at, then there truly is nothing else like it.

FFVIII is best described as abstract: it doesn’t have as solidly defined a setting as some of its contemporaries, its gameplay is much more open-ended and left up to the player’s discretion in terms of strategy, the narrative is loose at best, and its themes and message are an odd hodgepodge of several interconnected ideas and theories rather than a single, concrete point. What FFVIII does have to offer is raw feeling, a poignance about its atmosphere and what it conveys with its storytelling that resonates profoundly if you’re willing to play by its rules (or are naturally dispositioned towards some of its ideas to begin with).

The plot, on paper, is simple enough: in a colorful high-Fantasy-turned-science fiction setting, we follow Squall Leonhart, a child soldier turned mercenary who has little ambition or purpose in life other than to become a competent, respected SeeD (for-profit mercenary). When a mission he and his team are hired for goes awry, Squall finds himself in the midst of a global conspiracy involving an ongoing global war and a mysterious, maleficent sorceress at the helm of it all. Most of the story involves Squall’s struggle to understand and accept his role in the global crisis as well as understand himself, and his growing bond with secondary protagonist Rinoa Heartilly (a member of a resistance sect poised against the ruthless imperialist nation of Galbadia).

From there... things get weird.

The plot is compelling in its own right and features a few fun (if not sometimes contrived or predictable) plot twists, but ultimately takes a backseat to the purpose it serves: establishing, developing and growing Squall and Rinoa’s characters. While plot events often have substantial narrative weight, most of what you’ll gleam from them (and want to look for) is what they tell you about the characters and the insight into their psyches. FFVIII addresses a great variety of topics that all interlink together in a tight-wound web of themes, ranging from trauma to war to time to family, all of which reflect heavily on the characters’ emotional development and personalities. Character writing is truly where FFVIII shines, and the little pieces of interaction between the cast are what will stick with you more than the bombastic action sequences. It’s a rare feat for a simple conversation or flashback to be more memorable than a fully-animated FMV sequence, but these small moments of interaction and connection are what I find myself thinking about the most often and remembering the most fondly.

Beyond our two protagonists, FFVIII has a somewhat small but lovable and memorable cast, set aside from most other Final Fantasy titles in that they’re mostly believable everyday people. As such, their characters are often not as complex or layered as the series makes a habit out of committing to, but FFVIII manages to make simplicity work in the most endearing of ways: some of the game’s most charming and enduring characters are the Momma’s-boy Zell Dincht who lives at home with his mother and has a passion for mixed martial arts, the smug and conceited teacher Quistis Trepe who acts as Squall’s mentor, and the cocky country-boy Irvine Kinneas who transfers to Squall’s team as a sharpshooter. Some of these characters transcend the convention one might associate with their description, while others embody them so wholly and blatantly that they become brilliant. FFVIII’s cast might hold hidden depths, or they might really be genuine with who they are and exemplify it to the fullest.

FFVIII’s gameplay is a controversial topic, and most often why people disparage the game if not for a dislike of Squall’s distant personality. This is understandable: it’s quite intricate and unconventional, and rarely does the game do a good job of explaining how to use it to the fullest. FFVIII retires the JRPG standard of mana meters and spell learning in favor of magic being dispensable items that can either be used in combat, or equipped (“junctioned” in game terms) to the player’s stats rather than armor or accessories, replacing level grinding as the proper method to grow characters’ stats. Said magic can be refined from cards won in the game’s Triple Triad minigame (the most efficient way of earning magic, despite the game never clarifying this) or “drawn” from enemies during combat as well as specific points in the world map. Junctioning is performed via Guardian Forces, equippable summons that each carry unique abilities and characteristics of their own. It’s true that FFVIII’s complex systems can be overwhelming and disorienting for those used to a conventional JRPG experience, but if learned and understood the amount of customization and optimization is unparalleled especially for the time period. Even if the story and characters don’t appeal to you, if you have any investment in JRPG gameplay for the sake of gameplay then it doesn’t get better than FFVIII’s complex statistic management systems.

Finally... the music. It’s incredible, one of my favorites in any game, and is worked into the storytelling in a very unique way. The scenes which take place in the present day have a sweeping, fully-orchestrated sound whereas those that take place in flashbacks to the distant past have a high-tech futuristic sound, a fun inversion of the standard one might expect from or associate with conventions of the genres.

With all of this being said: FFVIII is a unique game that caters to a very specific audience, and it banks entirely on whether or not you “get it.” If you do, you do, and if you don’t, you don’t. It’s very possible it may not simply be for you, but the best way to find out is to jump in with an open mind (and a willingness to lead the game’s systems!).

For me...? It means more to me personally than I can say, and I can only hope you’ll find as much in it as I have.

This review contains spoilers

Nier Replicant is a masterpiece, and one of the greatest games of all time. It's a celebration of video games as a medium, and it explores the unique ways it can tell a story that truly cannot be offered through any other platform.
Nier sets your expectations using well known video game tropes, only to completely flip everything on its head. In many ways, Nier is a deconstruction of popular games that have been central to the industry. It's structured very similarly to Ocarina of Time, in some really interesting ways. You start out as a young boy, set out on a mythical journey to gather the Sealed Verses, which will allow you to confront the antagonist of the story. A clear parallel to Ocarina of Time, where you gather the spiritual stones, only to inadvertently help the main antagonist, Ganondorf, who plunges the world into ruin, and you come back as an adult years later, stronger and more prepared this time, and having to clean up the mess you helped cause. Hell -- story aside, this game even has block puzzles and a big field reminiscent of Hyrule Field. There's also a segment in a forest where your senses are taken away, you're lost and forced to rely on only one visual stimuli to progress. In Ocarina of Time, this was the Lost Woods where you're supposed to navigate by paying attention to sound. In Nier's Forest of Myth, you are instead forced to read rather than listen, and guides will not help you here.
Nier Replicant does something very similar to Ocarina's story, but actually explores it in a more realistic way, and what such a state of affairs would do to the world and the people inhabiting it -- and shows just what other people would think of someone doing all of this. Nier Replicant is filled with grey morality like this. There's no true heroes or villains here, everyone has their own motives, some more admirable than others, and the most evil people in this story are people who are long dead and cannot be stopped, since they set events into motion hundreds of years ago and are not here to see the results of their plans. There are parallels to other games like Resident Evil, but I think the clearest thing here you're supposed to notice is this game's almost parody-like take on Ocarina of Time, and other popular JRPGs like Kingdom Hearts.
One important thing to note here is the gameplay, which is tied very strongly to the narrative. Combat is fast and fluid like Nier Automata, and has modern innovations like a proper lock-on system. However, it's not as deep as something like Devil May Cry, instead relying more on the RPG mechanics -- which is totally okay! Nier suits a large variety of playstyles. You can use item buffs like a standard RPG, you can be slow and methodical like a Souls game, parrying to win, or you can play this like it's a Platinum game and dodge your way to victory. There's also a mechanic called the sidestep, which is like the Reversal from Kingdom Hearts 2 but way cooler. Nier feels more grounded and realistic than Automata, but is still fun to play, which is good. There's a disturbing element to the combat as well, in how well the blood effects are done, the enemies making sounds that almost sound child-like when they die -- plus your magic death book absorbing the blood of your enemies to use spells. It's all very masterfully designed, and in my opinion, an improvement over Automata, which felt much less accessible to multiple playstyles, as it was more like a typical Platinum character action game with tacked-on RPG mechanics that felt redundant. The presentation of Replicant is also very well done, which is a nice cherry on top for the game. On an HDR TV, the game looks hauntingly beautiful. Many of the quirks from the original game like the dramatic bloom is carried over, just executed in a more appetizing way.
Nier is a story of humanity itself, touching on everything good and bad about people and the footprint we've left on this speck of rock in the vast emptiness of space. With the constant reminders of how little about the world is out of our control, it's so easy to experience feelings of nihilism, hopelessness, and impending doom. One day, humanity will probably end -- but what's important in life isn't how your life goes out, but how you lived it, and how you impacted other people's lives. In much of the conversation around these games by Yoko Taro, so much focus is put on the multiple endings, the ultimate fate of the characters, etcetera. Nier Replicant is a reminder of how important the journey through life is -- and how vital it is to learn to understand other people, other cultures, other ways of life, no matter how outlandish other people might seem, even if they speak a different language, or they don't look like us. Human connection is a concept that is constantly played around with, whether it's through the story's exploration of language, the choice to sever your connection with the world, and ultimately your friends by erasing your existence. How far will people go to maintain what gives their life meaning -- and, in the process, lose themselves? So often in media, self sacrifice is painted as a noble, heroic trope, but in Nier Replicant, all of the ugly aspects of sacrifices are shown. By choosing to erase yourself, the remaining cast suffers without you, having constant nightmares, crying when they think about you, even your sister, who you fought so hard to save, weeps over something she doesn't understand in her diary that can be read in the E route's loading screen, because you didn't even allow her the solace of understanding why she's traumatized. Everyone in Nier Replicant is so self absorbed and convicted in their beliefs, that they rarely ever stop to question what they're doing, if there's a better way to go about things, or if they can find a mutual understanding with their enemies. When the protagonist, Nier, spends so much time trying to cure his sister's disease, that he becomes obsessed to the point of risking death, chasing mythological, questionable leads, he forgets that all his sister really wants is to see her brother more, and spend time with the only family she has left. Nier is filled to the brim with tragedy like this, but as you're constantly reminded throughout the game -- it's too late to stop and dwell on your mistakes. Trying to save the world on your own and fight things out of your control can ultimately be fruitless, and filled with nothing but tragedy. However, there's always time to change course and focus on what really matters. Spend time with the people important to you. Try to understand people different from you. Don't allow your preconceived prejudices to cloud your judgment of strangers. Even if the world goes to hell, as long as you have your friends, you can find meaning, and worth, in your life. This is Nier, and it is one of my favorite games of all time.
I'm not used to writing reviews like this, so this might be all over the place, but I just wanted to let my thoughts spill out, because I had a lot of them after finishing the game. :)

I dug up a review/piece I wrote about Earthbound in 2017 on my old blog. I'd like to post it here:

"What does Earthbound mean to you?

In Itoi’s interview regarding Earthbound’s U.S. re-release on the Wii U Virtual Console, he looks back on Earthbound and describes his views on it now as a playground he threw stuff in for himself and everyone else to play in, and that everyone takes something completely different away from these bits and bobs he's filled it with. A communal sort-of game, in which children make up stories and ideas as they go along and put it right in with the rest of the make-believe. When you have a group of friends in a playground, kids will often enter and leave as their parents drop them off and pick them up, and little by little the stories the group goes on changes as children come and go. Between zombies, aliens, the future, and whatever else kids either think about or wonder about their own world. And of course, the longer this goes on, eventually dark thoughts and feelings enter. Relationships form, and people realize things about themselves and each other.

A lot of the spirit of a shapeshifting make-believe can be found in the game’s stories themselves, as each town is going through some crazy problem, and as the heroes continue their adventure, each new scenario adds something completely separate to the mix of fictional situations, drawing from all sorts of American cultural iconography and imagery.

This is another reason the game is so interesting, it as an adventure through a self-parody of the American youth, the landscape of American suburban adventure (or as it is referred to in the game: “Eagleland”) with the coming-of-age spirit so prevalent in American fiction. But it is told through the mechanics, systems, and interface of classically Japanese role-playing games, namely Dragon Quest. The inclusion of (pseudo) first person battles (albeit influenced by psychedelic visuals, as they take over the background of each fight), a command menu, stat growth, and equipment/inventory all pulled from the Dragon Quest system. This combination of simultaneous parody of Japanese systems and American culture and iconography makes it a truly unique international cultural creation.

In addition to this, the localization of the game lends itself very much to the identity of Earthbound. Much of the Japanese humor that would have been lost in translation is rewritten, but still preserves the wit and verbal/deadpan tone of the original. The octopus statue blocking your way in a valley is replaced with a pencil, to allow for the invention of the iconic “Pencil Eraser” (Just don’t use it in a pencil store!), a now staple joke of the game, with which the identity of the American version of the game just wouldn’t be the same without. Of course, the “Eraser Eraser” continuation of the joke found later in the game acts as an even better secondary punchline to the same joke.

Much of the game often feels like a rambling collection of jokes, ideas, and views on the world. Nothing is quite told boringly or without clear authorial perspective. It brings to mind the sort of writing that books like Cat’s Cradle used, in which Vonnegut described as each chapter being a small chip of the whole book, and each chip is a little joke in and of its own.

The U.S. release, in specific, is the Earthbound I think of so fondly when I think of the game. And I find that name so fitting as opposed to its Japanese name.

Earthbound.

Despite all the adventuring, all the crazy, wacky, surreal stories you learn and experience, even with the threat and exposure to extraterrestrial life within the game, your characters, your experiences, everything you do is very much bound to the planet Earth. Every idea in the game, every character you meet, makes up one grand image of the world that the game, in essence, is presenting to you as you explore it with your d-pad.

The NPC’s of the game are some of the most iconic in any, and the reason for that is that their dialogue is written so unpredictably and humorously, but yet so truthful to their representations of their roles as humans. A businessman in Earthbound will not sound like a businessman you meet on the street. He will sound like a caricature of what a businessman would sound like, knowing that he’s a businessman in this world of hundreds of other people and hundreds of other types of people. And in knowing that, he has found joy and laughter understanding his place. Each character is a figment of themselves in the eyes of a child innocently wandering around.

There is a famous English saying, “it takes all sorts (to make a world)”, that is often used to understand strangeness or foreignness in the world and in people. People often use it when they find something difficult to understand, because of how strange and foreign it might be, so they make the claim that the world must be so big, that it must require all sorts of strangeness and foreignness and things of all sorts of manners hard to understand, for it to exist as big as it does.

Earthbound, to me at least, is like a literal, humorous depiction of that phrase. Every character, every strange, surreal person that appears so plain, has to be there to make up this world. This Earth that we are all bound to."

If you read it all, thank you