Flickering between shadows, an obscure shade materializes. Blinking into perception, the ephemeral assassin strikes. A blade stained in sanguine cherry blossoms stains snowfall in glistening crimson. Sharp yelps, silenced as quickly as they are shouted, pierce the twilight sky, a sonic arrow sighted at the heavens. If the way of the samurai is, in essence, an introspection of death, the way of the shinobi, Ninjutsu as a whole, is an enactment of that introspection, a realization of inevitability. Lacking the grace and posturing of direct combat, the ninja of the Sengoku period are the nameless knife slicing through the thick of night. Further divorced from the reality of unrelenting warmongering, the fictionalized ninja is the innominate justice befalling the unjust.
Of course, even further separated from reality, what we see is less enactments of judgment or backstage saviors of the forgotten. Stealth, mechanically and narratively, becomes unceasing patience punctuated by uncontrollable bloodlust. But as much as I want to take a nuanced approach to that, a balanced reading on the act of killing within stealth games, Tenchu doesn’t really seek to hold that discussion. Morally-just and heroic ninjas do Huge Violences on fucked up and evil baddies. It’s as simple as stories go, and considering the game boils down to an arcade-ification of the traditional stealth game, it works wonders. Running with the feudal setting, the generally goofy dubbing, the casual ultra-violence, the vibe of the 90s OVA cuts through the surface, leaving me with this dumbass grin on my face the entire time I’m playing.
The world of Tenchu, now thousands of miles away from the heavy reality of dynasty warfare, is a perfectly polished arrangement of brutal playgrounds. Setting off with an overwhelming amount of quirky toys to torment the local guard population, you are tasked with flawlessly carving a swath of mean-spirited cruelty through Japanese villages, industrialized fortresses, and at least one truly fucked-up graveyard. Whether via bear traps, hook shots, by your own hands or by the paws of one ostensibly good boy, the name of the game is Very Cool Murdering, a hellacious hecatomb of dim-witted mall-cop-tier ronin, oni, and kunoichi. A conductor to an orchestra of “whose footprints are these?” and “it must have been the wind”’s, your silent slaughter is sung not in harrowing heartlessness, but in callous cackling, a sing-song “GGs, shake my hand” to soldiers born to die.
If I wanted to, I could expand into the nature of stealth games, the glorification of bloodshed, the senselessness of perpetual warfare, the meaning of righteousness in a world defined by the unjust, but God, who gives a shit about that. This is Tenchu; the game where an old dude gets three balls and turns into a snake before you, Samurai McFuckedUpEye, open said eye and become Samurai McSuperSonic. The depth of what the shinobi represents in fiction, the nature of violence in games, a thousand topics on what we “require” in action games could be discussed, but to leverage true depth at Tenchu: Wrath of Heaven is like spearfishing in a drainage ditch. Just… be a silly little ninja. Pull off stunts that shouldn’t work, reward yourself with one of the best pop-offs of the 2000s, respectfully look at Ayame who is very cool and my best friend. It doesn't have to be that deep, and that's perfectly fine.
Of course, even further separated from reality, what we see is less enactments of judgment or backstage saviors of the forgotten. Stealth, mechanically and narratively, becomes unceasing patience punctuated by uncontrollable bloodlust. But as much as I want to take a nuanced approach to that, a balanced reading on the act of killing within stealth games, Tenchu doesn’t really seek to hold that discussion. Morally-just and heroic ninjas do Huge Violences on fucked up and evil baddies. It’s as simple as stories go, and considering the game boils down to an arcade-ification of the traditional stealth game, it works wonders. Running with the feudal setting, the generally goofy dubbing, the casual ultra-violence, the vibe of the 90s OVA cuts through the surface, leaving me with this dumbass grin on my face the entire time I’m playing.
The world of Tenchu, now thousands of miles away from the heavy reality of dynasty warfare, is a perfectly polished arrangement of brutal playgrounds. Setting off with an overwhelming amount of quirky toys to torment the local guard population, you are tasked with flawlessly carving a swath of mean-spirited cruelty through Japanese villages, industrialized fortresses, and at least one truly fucked-up graveyard. Whether via bear traps, hook shots, by your own hands or by the paws of one ostensibly good boy, the name of the game is Very Cool Murdering, a hellacious hecatomb of dim-witted mall-cop-tier ronin, oni, and kunoichi. A conductor to an orchestra of “whose footprints are these?” and “it must have been the wind”’s, your silent slaughter is sung not in harrowing heartlessness, but in callous cackling, a sing-song “GGs, shake my hand” to soldiers born to die.
If I wanted to, I could expand into the nature of stealth games, the glorification of bloodshed, the senselessness of perpetual warfare, the meaning of righteousness in a world defined by the unjust, but God, who gives a shit about that. This is Tenchu; the game where an old dude gets three balls and turns into a snake before you, Samurai McFuckedUpEye, open said eye and become Samurai McSuperSonic. The depth of what the shinobi represents in fiction, the nature of violence in games, a thousand topics on what we “require” in action games could be discussed, but to leverage true depth at Tenchu: Wrath of Heaven is like spearfishing in a drainage ditch. Just… be a silly little ninja. Pull off stunts that shouldn’t work, reward yourself with one of the best pop-offs of the 2000s, respectfully look at Ayame who is very cool and my best friend. It doesn't have to be that deep, and that's perfectly fine.