The refined and cheekily self-referential sequel to Katamari Damacy was the last truly great game in a series that like no other defined the era of experimental mid-budget PS2 games, until its original creator left, and it got turned into a hotpot of cynical cash-grabs that never again recaptured the magic and avant-garde qualities of its first two entries.
Basically, We ❤ Katamari plays like a twisted version of a Peter Molyneux god game through the eyes of an absurdist artist, who looks at the world in a Brechtian "seeing something familiar from a confused outsider's perspective" kind of way. Above all, it's just such a pure expression of a video game, with that distinctly Japanese quality of being childlike and goofy and light-hearted on the surface, while at the same time having a sad and eerily sinister undertone. Experiencing it is hard to describe, but maybe best summed up by its soundscape: Imagine listening to a jaunty upbeat J-Pop song while people are screaming in terror in the background. In the end, you can't help but laugh.
Basically, We ❤ Katamari plays like a twisted version of a Peter Molyneux god game through the eyes of an absurdist artist, who looks at the world in a Brechtian "seeing something familiar from a confused outsider's perspective" kind of way. Above all, it's just such a pure expression of a video game, with that distinctly Japanese quality of being childlike and goofy and light-hearted on the surface, while at the same time having a sad and eerily sinister undertone. Experiencing it is hard to describe, but maybe best summed up by its soundscape: Imagine listening to a jaunty upbeat J-Pop song while people are screaming in terror in the background. In the end, you can't help but laugh.