“[Paradise Killer] might really be just style over substance, but goddamn, that’s some well-considered, obstinate style.” -me, like a year ago.
Looking back, this sentiment was misguided. If I were to go back and edit this line (which I can, but I won’t), I’d instead ask if Paradise Killer’s substance is capable of transcending its, as I put it, well-considered, obstinate style. It was and still is clear that PK is speaking to some capital-C Classic themes: it is not the first nor will it be the last piece of media I take in where the ruling class is depicted as megalomaniacal deities. The unfathomably massive scale of its worldbuilding plays on our incapability to perceive relatively-colossal things accurately. The cosmos! An infinitely stretching timeline! How big is a universe? Unfortunately, too big for us. I guess it's appropriate, then (warning: it’s been a while since I’ve played the game) that the drabble of each individual component ring less clear in my head than the totality of the island, exposing both the positives and negatives of the bigger picture.
To put it simply, PK spends a lot of its time and efforts building upon this tapestry of infinites, and in the process bypasses too often an opportunity to speak to the present. At the intersection of the Yakuza-like dedication to worldly verisimilitude and unhinged sci-fi setting lies Paradise Killer, though with less of a handle on the intimate moments that makes its very clear inspirations great works. I think this is why my original stance a year back felt so unsure - for as incredible as some of the collectible descriptions can be at depicting this world, how much of what is said there can be extracted and applied? Does this game have that totality it is shooting for, or is it a museum disguised as a game with lots and lots of platforming?
Of course, all this time spent brainstorming does result in something. The 24th island itself pulls its end of the weight, depicting slaughterings of citizens (a fee of sorts for the island sequences, which the leaders are routinely fucking up!) against vaporwave backdrops, all but implying an inseparable bond that routine and atrocity hold. The islands are made in the image of the Syndicate, and end up speaking volumes to their values, their taste (or lack thereof), and self-perceptions. Better than the actual texts of the game even.
Alongside that original statement, I also said that the game sticks its landing in the final hour - and I still do think that! What ends up tilting the scale away from the gauzy theme-safari that PK risks being is the trial itself, a moment where the game decides: yep, give them the gun and let them destroy it all. I ended up playing it as straight as I could, but you can really just forgo all evidence and ice your fellow immortals for no reason if you should desire. And given the omnipotent Judge’s purpose, I think that’s probably the more favorite outcome? Because, at the end of it all, getting the issue out of here and letting the process continue is the ultimate desire for the world. Stopping the gears to repair them risks having to look at them, bring their purpose to the forefront of your mind and, worst of all, question them. We can’t have that, can we?
I might be a little flat on Paradise Killer now that I realize that these massive proper nouns and LCD screen-isms all boil down to some pretty simple, well-trodden themes, but the things that sing within PK do so from talented mouths (I didn’t mention it, but that vocal song is like 5-star goated status, god fucking damn). Given that Kaizen have teased working with the likes of Ikumi Nakamura, the developers have a lot to look forward to and, by extension, so do I.
Looking back, this sentiment was misguided. If I were to go back and edit this line (which I can, but I won’t), I’d instead ask if Paradise Killer’s substance is capable of transcending its, as I put it, well-considered, obstinate style. It was and still is clear that PK is speaking to some capital-C Classic themes: it is not the first nor will it be the last piece of media I take in where the ruling class is depicted as megalomaniacal deities. The unfathomably massive scale of its worldbuilding plays on our incapability to perceive relatively-colossal things accurately. The cosmos! An infinitely stretching timeline! How big is a universe? Unfortunately, too big for us. I guess it's appropriate, then (warning: it’s been a while since I’ve played the game) that the drabble of each individual component ring less clear in my head than the totality of the island, exposing both the positives and negatives of the bigger picture.
To put it simply, PK spends a lot of its time and efforts building upon this tapestry of infinites, and in the process bypasses too often an opportunity to speak to the present. At the intersection of the Yakuza-like dedication to worldly verisimilitude and unhinged sci-fi setting lies Paradise Killer, though with less of a handle on the intimate moments that makes its very clear inspirations great works. I think this is why my original stance a year back felt so unsure - for as incredible as some of the collectible descriptions can be at depicting this world, how much of what is said there can be extracted and applied? Does this game have that totality it is shooting for, or is it a museum disguised as a game with lots and lots of platforming?
Of course, all this time spent brainstorming does result in something. The 24th island itself pulls its end of the weight, depicting slaughterings of citizens (a fee of sorts for the island sequences, which the leaders are routinely fucking up!) against vaporwave backdrops, all but implying an inseparable bond that routine and atrocity hold. The islands are made in the image of the Syndicate, and end up speaking volumes to their values, their taste (or lack thereof), and self-perceptions. Better than the actual texts of the game even.
Alongside that original statement, I also said that the game sticks its landing in the final hour - and I still do think that! What ends up tilting the scale away from the gauzy theme-safari that PK risks being is the trial itself, a moment where the game decides: yep, give them the gun and let them destroy it all. I ended up playing it as straight as I could, but you can really just forgo all evidence and ice your fellow immortals for no reason if you should desire. And given the omnipotent Judge’s purpose, I think that’s probably the more favorite outcome? Because, at the end of it all, getting the issue out of here and letting the process continue is the ultimate desire for the world. Stopping the gears to repair them risks having to look at them, bring their purpose to the forefront of your mind and, worst of all, question them. We can’t have that, can we?
I might be a little flat on Paradise Killer now that I realize that these massive proper nouns and LCD screen-isms all boil down to some pretty simple, well-trodden themes, but the things that sing within PK do so from talented mouths (I didn’t mention it, but that vocal song is like 5-star goated status, god fucking damn). Given that Kaizen have teased working with the likes of Ikumi Nakamura, the developers have a lot to look forward to and, by extension, so do I.