This review contains spoilers
I think this game incarnated my personal validational needs and weaponised them in an uncannily close way that it felt like it was targetting me. I'm well aware that it was merely a coincidental occurrence, but I need to vent about it.
The Shoot'em up genre is an extremely uninviting one, almost as much as fighting games, for polary opposite reasons. Fighting games thrive on community and competence, on people who slowly improve together and don't give up, making newcomers to the genre weary of their insufficiency.
Shoot'em up games thrive on individual self improvement, like an endurance obstacle course. A single segment speedrun focusing on survival rather than speed. They are intimidating by design, yet equally thriving on community. However, unlike fighting games, a minimal is required to validate your playthrough of any game.
Shoot'em ups breaking this arcadey formula are (or rather were) very frowned upon. Assistance systems such as infinite continues are on the same level as a checkpoint or an easy mode. There is no gradual player level, you either cut it out or don't. And when you cut it out, you find out there may be harder ways to play the game and those are the ones that actually count.
There are certain communities very fixated on the "right way" of playing videogames, specially if you want to talk about them. They turn what games you play, how you percieve them and how you play them into status symbols, into sparks of drama and ostracism. They are not niche groups, they thirst for people who share their confrontationalism and apply it to every genre and topic conceived. It is truly not about the "right-way" of playing a videogame, it is about fabricating a hierarchy. And of course, STGs and their 1ccs were no exception.
Zeroranger on the other hand seemed to be going on a different vibe which escaped them. The checkpoint system seemed more akin to regular action games rather than getting an instant revival like pouring another credit in an arcade machine would do. It seemed that this game was more about adventure than the accursed self improvement, than the "right-way" of playing the genre.
But the game has a surprise: its buddhist themes. Reincarnation as a punishment for not seeing the truth, for being too attached to material needs or not working out your spirit. And the truth this game punishes you for not understanding is the accursed "1cc run". The game essentially turns your remaining credits into a lifebar for the final segment of the game, and wipes out your high scores and progress if you spefically fail at it. The game mocks you for being too coward to confront this final challenge, and won't unlock its single steam achievement until you do.
It is a cruel twist, it seemed like those communities I so far had I ran away from built a fake inviting shrine and waited me to step on it, just to tell me I can't escape from their truth. The "right-way" is ilumination, puts you on a superior tier of existence. Accepting the challenging side of it and enduring its hardships is what proves your worth. Changing your mindset into accomodating the frustrating "right-way" into you is the sole way of enduring its challenge, you can't endure it unless you are like us.
Playing this game became personal, hellish torture for me, every definitive death a personal reminder that I will always be under them. It reached a point where I only specifically played the game on my shittiest days, on fear it would ruin the rest. I think the game rebooted itself 5 times before I managed to clear it.
Thankfully, the game had been patched, so I could attribute my victory to Decker being buffed other than conceiding their viewpoint. A saving grace should I say, for even that victory would have chased me like a screeching ghost.
It's been a long time since that view has shimmered away and I play games for what make me feel rather than for their analytical innards. But this game will always be my cold reminder of what holes can you bring yourself to without perspective.
The Shoot'em up genre is an extremely uninviting one, almost as much as fighting games, for polary opposite reasons. Fighting games thrive on community and competence, on people who slowly improve together and don't give up, making newcomers to the genre weary of their insufficiency.
Shoot'em up games thrive on individual self improvement, like an endurance obstacle course. A single segment speedrun focusing on survival rather than speed. They are intimidating by design, yet equally thriving on community. However, unlike fighting games, a minimal is required to validate your playthrough of any game.
Shoot'em ups breaking this arcadey formula are (or rather were) very frowned upon. Assistance systems such as infinite continues are on the same level as a checkpoint or an easy mode. There is no gradual player level, you either cut it out or don't. And when you cut it out, you find out there may be harder ways to play the game and those are the ones that actually count.
There are certain communities very fixated on the "right way" of playing videogames, specially if you want to talk about them. They turn what games you play, how you percieve them and how you play them into status symbols, into sparks of drama and ostracism. They are not niche groups, they thirst for people who share their confrontationalism and apply it to every genre and topic conceived. It is truly not about the "right-way" of playing a videogame, it is about fabricating a hierarchy. And of course, STGs and their 1ccs were no exception.
Zeroranger on the other hand seemed to be going on a different vibe which escaped them. The checkpoint system seemed more akin to regular action games rather than getting an instant revival like pouring another credit in an arcade machine would do. It seemed that this game was more about adventure than the accursed self improvement, than the "right-way" of playing the genre.
But the game has a surprise: its buddhist themes. Reincarnation as a punishment for not seeing the truth, for being too attached to material needs or not working out your spirit. And the truth this game punishes you for not understanding is the accursed "1cc run". The game essentially turns your remaining credits into a lifebar for the final segment of the game, and wipes out your high scores and progress if you spefically fail at it. The game mocks you for being too coward to confront this final challenge, and won't unlock its single steam achievement until you do.
It is a cruel twist, it seemed like those communities I so far had I ran away from built a fake inviting shrine and waited me to step on it, just to tell me I can't escape from their truth. The "right-way" is ilumination, puts you on a superior tier of existence. Accepting the challenging side of it and enduring its hardships is what proves your worth. Changing your mindset into accomodating the frustrating "right-way" into you is the sole way of enduring its challenge, you can't endure it unless you are like us.
Playing this game became personal, hellish torture for me, every definitive death a personal reminder that I will always be under them. It reached a point where I only specifically played the game on my shittiest days, on fear it would ruin the rest. I think the game rebooted itself 5 times before I managed to clear it.
Thankfully, the game had been patched, so I could attribute my victory to Decker being buffed other than conceiding their viewpoint. A saving grace should I say, for even that victory would have chased me like a screeching ghost.
It's been a long time since that view has shimmered away and I play games for what make me feel rather than for their analytical innards. But this game will always be my cold reminder of what holes can you bring yourself to without perspective.