122 Reviews liked by Van
This game should be better. Its heart is in the right place but it seemed to be lacking the budget and resources it needed to be a standout and accomplish what it set out to do. The roster is too small and missing some key characters everybody wanted to see, hardcore fighting game fans are displeased with the mechanics, and the game overall lacks personality (at least finally adding voice acting was a step in the right direction). It was fun for a few rounds but let's be honest- Multiversus really showed this game how it should be done.
Vampire Survivors
2021
I have 63.5 hours in Vampire Survivors, 9.6 in Seraph's Last Stand, 4.1 in Soulstone Survivors, and 3.5 in 20 Minutes Till Dawn. I've played these Survivors-likes a lot, and I daresay I even like them. However, they represent one of the greatest issues of contemporary gaming and media consumption more broadly. With little exception, Survivors-likes are about pleasure rather than enjoyment.
That these games are pleasurable is hard to deny, they're perfectly tuned to tickle the brain through large damage numbers getting larger, (theoretically) overwhelming odds, the pseudo-random element of choices on level up, and pitch-perfect dings and chimes when getting XP. Vampire Survivors in particular adds on the pleasure of opening something with its treasure chests with resplendent animations and music. The first few hours of any Survivors-like are the best because of the sense of mystery, not knowing what's behind the curtain making it tick. You're left wondering how long you can last, what evolutions are possible, what maps you can unlock, what new systems lie in store. In that sense it's not entirely dissimilar to a 'regular' roguelite like The Binding of Isaac (1,031.9 hours), Slay the Spire (282.7 hours), or Enter the Gungeon (217.9 hours). Like those games, Survivors-likes have an overarching progression with gradual unlocks for doing tasks. Like those games, there's a feeling of becoming better at the game over time. The problem is that in nearly all Survivors-likes, you aren't actually improving at all, nor are you facing an actual challenge. You simply think you are.
The three roguelites I mentioned above have a lot of their enjoyment stemming from 'breaking' the game, finding out how to effectively use its mechanics and synergies in the most advantageous way. But figuring out how to break the game requires, at least in part, some knowledge of how the game works and how to manipulate play to increase the odds of breaking the game. In TBoI, a player has to know to avoid damage to get a Devil Room. As such, getting some of the best items in the game demands mechanically perfect play. You can fail forward into some synergies for sure, but to actually unlock access to potential advantages, you have to earn it. Even the items that would allow one to overcome the skill requirement are themselves tied to a skill requirement for their unlocking. StS, as an engine-building game, lets you demolish its challenges with a well-maintained deck, but you have to know how the mechanics work and how to deal with enemies that can render your engine moot.
Survivors-likes, on the surface, have that same game-breaking with their item evolutions/syngeries. You might feel clever for discovering an evolution, and like a badass for wiping out hordes with little to no resistance. But you didn't get that power through knowing how a fight works (unless knowing to move slightly away from an enemy is intricate knowledge), you got it by picking two items from a very, very limited pool. A limited pool that allows you, with progression, to remove items from it or skip the choices until you get what you want. It's similar to holding R in TBoI to get a good first item room, or waiting at a traffic light, trying to predict when it will turn green, and saying 'that didn't count' when you got it wrong. You're sinking up to thirty minutes per run into something solvable and solved. Without the ability to choose when you use what attacks, and with enemy attacks amounting to 'go where they are thinnest' and 'move up a little bit to avoid a slow projectile,' there's no skill ceiling or skill floor. There's no consequence for a poor (read: mathematically incorrect) decision outside of your numbers not being ideal; picking up Ipecac when you have Broken Mirror this is not.
To be abundantly clear, there isn't anything implicitly wrong with the Survivors-like formula, and there's nothing implicitly wrong with finding pleasure in them. They are purposely designed to elicit pleasure, after all. The issue is that players are largely uncritical of what they are consuming, why they find it pleasurable, and whether or not it is actually enjoyable. Pleasure and enjoyment are not mutually exclusive, but pleasure is something that happens to you, and enjoyment is something earned by you. To keep things in the realm of gaming, those broken runs in TBoI are pleasurable because of a sense of accomplishment, and enjoyable because that accomplishment was meaningfully earned. Survivors-likes are pleasurable because of a sense of becoming stronger and doing well, but not enjoyable because there is minimal effort put in and no actual skill. Playing a multiplayer shooter with your friends is pleasurable and enjoyable because you are exercising your skills and spending time with people whose company you enjoy. You are lost in the moment so actions like imperfect play do not hamper your pleasure, and since you are still being tested no matter how you perform, it remains enjoyable. Playing a multiplayer shooter alone has varying pleasure tied directly to performance of play, and enjoyment derived from trying your best.
Again, there is nothing intrinsically wrong with deriving pleasure from these games. You should, however, stop and ask yourself from time to time if you are getting any enjoyment from what you're doing. Maybe you're not, and that's alright, but a life lived in pursuit of pleasure above all else is probably not a very fulfilling one. And companies know that we love pleasure. It's why social media exists in the way it does to keep your attention indefinitely. It's why Marvel movies follow the same formula time and again. It's why reality TV was and is such a massive market. It's why viral marketing and the media tell you you have to watch the new Netflix original film, lest you suffer FOMO. It's why Survivors-likes demand a large investment of time so you feel more emotionally attached to the experience and will tell your friends they have to play it.
Take a step back and ask yourself, why?
That these games are pleasurable is hard to deny, they're perfectly tuned to tickle the brain through large damage numbers getting larger, (theoretically) overwhelming odds, the pseudo-random element of choices on level up, and pitch-perfect dings and chimes when getting XP. Vampire Survivors in particular adds on the pleasure of opening something with its treasure chests with resplendent animations and music. The first few hours of any Survivors-like are the best because of the sense of mystery, not knowing what's behind the curtain making it tick. You're left wondering how long you can last, what evolutions are possible, what maps you can unlock, what new systems lie in store. In that sense it's not entirely dissimilar to a 'regular' roguelite like The Binding of Isaac (1,031.9 hours), Slay the Spire (282.7 hours), or Enter the Gungeon (217.9 hours). Like those games, Survivors-likes have an overarching progression with gradual unlocks for doing tasks. Like those games, there's a feeling of becoming better at the game over time. The problem is that in nearly all Survivors-likes, you aren't actually improving at all, nor are you facing an actual challenge. You simply think you are.
The three roguelites I mentioned above have a lot of their enjoyment stemming from 'breaking' the game, finding out how to effectively use its mechanics and synergies in the most advantageous way. But figuring out how to break the game requires, at least in part, some knowledge of how the game works and how to manipulate play to increase the odds of breaking the game. In TBoI, a player has to know to avoid damage to get a Devil Room. As such, getting some of the best items in the game demands mechanically perfect play. You can fail forward into some synergies for sure, but to actually unlock access to potential advantages, you have to earn it. Even the items that would allow one to overcome the skill requirement are themselves tied to a skill requirement for their unlocking. StS, as an engine-building game, lets you demolish its challenges with a well-maintained deck, but you have to know how the mechanics work and how to deal with enemies that can render your engine moot.
Survivors-likes, on the surface, have that same game-breaking with their item evolutions/syngeries. You might feel clever for discovering an evolution, and like a badass for wiping out hordes with little to no resistance. But you didn't get that power through knowing how a fight works (unless knowing to move slightly away from an enemy is intricate knowledge), you got it by picking two items from a very, very limited pool. A limited pool that allows you, with progression, to remove items from it or skip the choices until you get what you want. It's similar to holding R in TBoI to get a good first item room, or waiting at a traffic light, trying to predict when it will turn green, and saying 'that didn't count' when you got it wrong. You're sinking up to thirty minutes per run into something solvable and solved. Without the ability to choose when you use what attacks, and with enemy attacks amounting to 'go where they are thinnest' and 'move up a little bit to avoid a slow projectile,' there's no skill ceiling or skill floor. There's no consequence for a poor (read: mathematically incorrect) decision outside of your numbers not being ideal; picking up Ipecac when you have Broken Mirror this is not.
To be abundantly clear, there isn't anything implicitly wrong with the Survivors-like formula, and there's nothing implicitly wrong with finding pleasure in them. They are purposely designed to elicit pleasure, after all. The issue is that players are largely uncritical of what they are consuming, why they find it pleasurable, and whether or not it is actually enjoyable. Pleasure and enjoyment are not mutually exclusive, but pleasure is something that happens to you, and enjoyment is something earned by you. To keep things in the realm of gaming, those broken runs in TBoI are pleasurable because of a sense of accomplishment, and enjoyable because that accomplishment was meaningfully earned. Survivors-likes are pleasurable because of a sense of becoming stronger and doing well, but not enjoyable because there is minimal effort put in and no actual skill. Playing a multiplayer shooter with your friends is pleasurable and enjoyable because you are exercising your skills and spending time with people whose company you enjoy. You are lost in the moment so actions like imperfect play do not hamper your pleasure, and since you are still being tested no matter how you perform, it remains enjoyable. Playing a multiplayer shooter alone has varying pleasure tied directly to performance of play, and enjoyment derived from trying your best.
Again, there is nothing intrinsically wrong with deriving pleasure from these games. You should, however, stop and ask yourself from time to time if you are getting any enjoyment from what you're doing. Maybe you're not, and that's alright, but a life lived in pursuit of pleasure above all else is probably not a very fulfilling one. And companies know that we love pleasure. It's why social media exists in the way it does to keep your attention indefinitely. It's why Marvel movies follow the same formula time and again. It's why reality TV was and is such a massive market. It's why viral marketing and the media tell you you have to watch the new Netflix original film, lest you suffer FOMO. It's why Survivors-likes demand a large investment of time so you feel more emotionally attached to the experience and will tell your friends they have to play it.
Take a step back and ask yourself, why?
CW: Murder, gun violence, child death, sexual violence, cannibalism, suicide, gore, eroticism of gore, knife violence, glorification of tragedy and crime, misogyny.
Updated version
Video version of this review
Preface
First, I would like to make abundantly clear this is a heinous work. On a surface level it is reprehensible. Digging into it makes every aspect of it worse. If it could only be played with a critical eye that would be one thing, but as I will get into this isn't just some curiosity to dissect.
The United States has had 27 school massacres since 1927. 16 of these occurred after Columbine. All but two were carried out with the use of firearms. Since 2000, there have been 388 school shootings in the United States.
Canada has had three school massacres ever (ignoring the genocide perpetrated by the Residential School system). One of these occurred after Columbine. It was carried out with a firearm. Since 2000, there have been 8 school shootings in Canada.
Japan has had one school massacre ever. It occurred on June 8, 2001. Eight children were murdered. All but one were girls. The perpetrator used a kitchen knife. There has never been a school shooting in Japan. There have been two multiple fatality shootings in Japan since 1952.
Potential
I think this is important to bring up because, from a Western and particularly an American perspective, school shootings are a dark reality that happens with shocking yet numbing frequency. The Onion's perennial publishing of their "No Way to Prevent This" article is testament to that. While it would be disingenuous to say school shootings have had no resonance in Japan, it is true that they have not happened there. The distance from tragedy lessens its emotional impact.
This is to say that, in a vacuum, Morimiya Middle School Shooting (MMSS) reads as intensely insensitive but not outright malicious. It is, in a vacuum, akin to Postal or Hatred, mimicking real world tragedy without outright reference to any specific event. An argument could even be made that there is some merit to MMSS in its commentary on the why of school shootings. The unnamed player character walked in on her mother's suicide, her father was an abusive alcoholic who disappeared. Her rage turns outward towards those who do not give her the attention she was missing from her parents. It ultimately manifests as a desire to commit murder after the game's fictionalised Japan reports on regional mass killings.
Like Super Columbine Massacre RPG, MMSS appears then to be a work which asks for a societal introspection alongside our abject horror. By not referencing a specific historical event, MMSS has the potential to make commentary without inflicting direct emotional harm. Its gamification and unnamed player character have the potential to instill a sense of being complicit with the act, as with Brenda Romero's 2009 board game Train. Even its arcade gameplay loop, high scores, and unlocks have the potential to increase engagement for some grand payoff of self-disgust that one would invest so much time into becoming good at murdering teachers and children. A part of me held out hope in my few playthroughs that there would be some message at the end of it all, that this glorification of violence would have a point. Instead, MMSS is closer to JFK: Reloaded. It teaches nothing. It has nothing to say. It exists to shock. It exists to hurt.
Play
On a technical and mechanical level, MMSS is something of a marvel. It is an RPGMaker game with gunplay. There is an undeniable element of strategy to it. Suffice it to say that every aspect of school shootings are on display here. If you have seen coverage of new schools in the United States being built to 'confuse and frustrate' school shooters, you can intuit how the prototypical Japanese school might facilitate mass murder with firearms and explosives. The player needs to slow down to increase their accuracy. I leave it to you to put two and two together. The unlocks amount to different weapons the player can use, as well as cheats. The player needs to manage the loaded ammunition between their weapons so as to not end up reloading while students wielding poles lunge at them to stop their advance. The player has a very strict time limit before the police arrive to arrest them. The player gets the most points for killing female students. None of this is particularly fun, even if it were removed from what it is depicting, but that it has been done on an engine meant for traditional JRPGs is impressive. That it is mechanically more than pointing and shooting is noteworthy. It is just barely engaging enough to warrant a couple playthroughs.
Precedent
Discussion of MMSS necessitates consideration of its creator and their niche. MMSS was developed by エリック aka erikku aka eric806359 aka kata235. They are an ero guro artist. Their depiction and obsession with the macabre is not in line with an H.R. Giger type, however. It comes across as more similar to the work of the Marquis de Sade. Reading through erikku's Twitter feed and scrolling through their Pixiv feels like trawling through The 120 Days of Sodom; it is a display of an amoral libertine.
Some choice textual excerpts from their Twitter (roughly translated):
"Drawing muscles makes me want to eat them."
"A touching coming-of-age story in which a young girl who has just lost her father gets a gun and grows up to be a splendid mass murderer."
"If I'm going to die anyways, I want the human race to perish while I'm still alive."
"I'm not a monster. Even for someone like me, I have human likes and dislikes. ...For example, what I love is 'Decapitation'"
I think you get the idea.
Their Pixiv is similarly naught but ero guro. Ero guro is not some 'release valve' for erikku, it is their sole purpose.
Perusal
Despite this, MMSS contains zero erotic elements. ConeCvltist stated in his review that MMSS probably exists for someone to get their rocks off. I think he is at once right and wrong in this assertion. Without explicit eroticism, MMSS is only a guro work, and thus cannot be said to be primarily for sexual gratification. However, it is also inextricable from its creator's main body of work. His illustrations of MMSS's main character are surrounded by nude women's stomachs being cut open, by school girls being strangled to death, of raw human flesh being consumed next to bare corpses. MMSS is not explicitly sexual, but it is implicitly erotic. The primary demographic is not you or I, but those already familiar with erikku's portfolio. And while not in the game itself, erikku has made numerous animations of the player character shooting school girls, their inflated chests jiggling, their panties digging into their crotches.
MMSS is unable to depict this level of fidelity for gore or lewdness in RPGMaker due to the rapid pace of gameplay. What illustrative art is present shows up in the introduction, endings, and when in the apartment at the start. For erikku's intended audience, however, those depictions don't need to explicitly exist within the game. One's familiarity with those short animation clips, those illustrations allows them to, in part, fill in the gaps during gameplay. In researching erikku and being exposed to the supportive art for MMSS, subsequent playthroughs have been marred by more accurate depictions of the violence and murder rendered in pixel form. Furthermore, I have seen that his illustrations and animation snippets are released in packs with other, non-MMSS related works of an ero guro nature. The mind fills in the gaps, the mind construes all of this as sexual.
Pang
In MMSS, during the news report on recent killings, one scene shows a middle school girl being escorted by police as her victims clutch their stomachs. This murderer committed their acts with a kitchen knife. They primarily targetted girls.
As mentioned at the very start, there has been one school massacre in Japanese history. It involved a kitchen knife. The perpetrator primarily targetted girls.
This is odious enough on its own, this unveiled allusion to the Osaka school massacre as tasteless as anything making light of the mass murder of children. erikku's fanbase will recognise this as a direct reference to his other game, Rouka de Onigokku (Tag in the Hallway). You sprint through hallways and stab students before you can be caught. It operates like an endless runner. The William Tell Overture plays the whole time. While MMSS references tragedy broadly, Rouka de Onigokku references it precisely. In MMSS one can even unlock use of a knife to carry out the game's mass murder in the same manner as Rouka de Onigokku's main character. It is despicable. It gets worse.
Perturbed
There is very scant documentation of MMSS on the English-speaking clearnet. I myself only came across it by chance on Backloggd. What I have found is deplorable.
Following the release of MMSS, erikku started answering fan questions on Twitter. Most of these are in Japanese, but some have been translated by erikku himself.
"Q: [...] how do you deal with negative feedback or criticism regarding the sensitive nature of 'taboo' nature of your art?
A: [...] I try not to care too much about negative feedback and so on :)"
"Q: [...] what do you use for inspiration before making a picture? Do you read about some real life murder cases?
A: I often read about real life murder cases, and watch a movie and TV series about murder. But I don't use anything for inspiration. I just draw what I want to draw."
His tweets continued in their perturbing statements. Above the aforementioned illustration of Rouka de Onigokku's main character, he writes "I was caught by the Thought Police and was temporarily suspended. It was caused by the cannibalism animation, but I think all the zombies are gone now. ...By the way, the situation in the picture is a very, very, very healthy illustration of a student playing a prank with ketchup and being taken care of by the police."
They also started answering questions on peing.net.
"I'm just painting 'imaginary violence against non-existent people.'"
"Murder, abductions, and transportation of body parts over long distances are very hard work, but it's better than repeating the incidents in a nearby area and narrowing the scope of police investigation towards you."
"I think there are various reasons why the culprit in Morimiya didn't commit suicide (including suicide by police). One of the goals is to know the suffering of the victims, including the survivors and bereaved families. It may also be the result of hatred towards the mother who took her own life. No matter how many people you kill, the hatred toward your mother, who took her own life and became a 'suicide statistic' cannot be cleared, but 'I won't die like that!' Is that the result of trying to persevere?"
"I have been drawing pictures of killing people since I was a child, but it was when I was a teenager that I start having interest in killing (anime) girls."
MMSS and Rouka de Onigokku are not just gamified depictions of perturbed minds. They are the machinations of a fucked up pervert. It gets worse.
Perverse
When looking up MMSS, one of the only results is the RPGMaker Fandom wiki. It provides the Google Drive link I got the game from. Far above that download link lies a link to the 'Official Discord,' with the blessing of erikku.
The rules for the 'Morityu Community Server' notably state the following:
"Rule 3. Don't be a weirdo. Keep edgelording to a minimum. If it's TMI, don't post it.
You can love seeing girls suffer all you want, just don't tell everyone, because nobody wants to hear about it.
Don't be that guy who idolizes mass shooters. It's cringe as hell and a sign that you should probably go outside for once."
"Rule 5. Do not talk about planning any mass murders or crimes of any form.
You may talk about previous cases of mass murder, but do not talk about the possibility of yourself or others committing crimes.
Even if you're not going to do it and are just posting it as a "what if", it is punishable by a ban.
This is the one rule you don't want to break."
The server is a cesspool of racism, homophobia, sexism, and generally making light of school shootings as a topic. Users have /k/ommando avatars and names and banners. They share gameplay clips and compete for high scores. They share links to movie clips of school shootings, they share DOOM WADs for school levels. They pontificate about whether or not women get aroused during shootings. They cheer for Russia's invasion of Ukraine, for police murdering black people. They hide behind the thinnest veneer of respecting Discord's ToS.
Searching for MMSS information led me to a danbooru post making light of the Christchurch mosque shootings. The artist's commentary notes the inefficacy of focusing on the victims of mass murder rather than the perpetrators themselves, particularly when those criminals understand how to effectively use the memetic nature of modern media.
It was also on that Fandom wiki I learned that the art room in MMSS has portraits of several school shooters. Real school shooters. If this is not glorification, I don't know what is.
The citation for that art room tidbit took me further still. A forum dedicated to Columbine and other school shootings and crimes. A thread titled Video games about Mass Murder. Users laud MMSS as one of the best games about mass murder. Avatars depict children holding guns threateningly. The Similar topics at the bottom of the thread ask what games school shooters played.
It's then I decided I had had enough.
Perpetuity
I wish there was a conclusion I could make here. Some hopeful message about erikku realising this is fucked beyond belief. That Discord being banned. The host of the Columbine forum shutting down.
There is no conclusion. There is no takeaway. This is revolting. Researching put knots in my gut. Writing evoked constant self-doubt.
I believe there is room for societal introspection on serious, challenging topics through games. But when the act of playing tragedy is not contextualised, is not condemned, then those games will function as just that, games. Tools for amusement, not for learning. Something to strategise about, not think critically about. A pedestal for amorality, not a mirror reflecting it.
Irredeemable.
Updated version
Video version of this review
Preface
First, I would like to make abundantly clear this is a heinous work. On a surface level it is reprehensible. Digging into it makes every aspect of it worse. If it could only be played with a critical eye that would be one thing, but as I will get into this isn't just some curiosity to dissect.
The United States has had 27 school massacres since 1927. 16 of these occurred after Columbine. All but two were carried out with the use of firearms. Since 2000, there have been 388 school shootings in the United States.
Canada has had three school massacres ever (ignoring the genocide perpetrated by the Residential School system). One of these occurred after Columbine. It was carried out with a firearm. Since 2000, there have been 8 school shootings in Canada.
Japan has had one school massacre ever. It occurred on June 8, 2001. Eight children were murdered. All but one were girls. The perpetrator used a kitchen knife. There has never been a school shooting in Japan. There have been two multiple fatality shootings in Japan since 1952.
Potential
I think this is important to bring up because, from a Western and particularly an American perspective, school shootings are a dark reality that happens with shocking yet numbing frequency. The Onion's perennial publishing of their "No Way to Prevent This" article is testament to that. While it would be disingenuous to say school shootings have had no resonance in Japan, it is true that they have not happened there. The distance from tragedy lessens its emotional impact.
This is to say that, in a vacuum, Morimiya Middle School Shooting (MMSS) reads as intensely insensitive but not outright malicious. It is, in a vacuum, akin to Postal or Hatred, mimicking real world tragedy without outright reference to any specific event. An argument could even be made that there is some merit to MMSS in its commentary on the why of school shootings. The unnamed player character walked in on her mother's suicide, her father was an abusive alcoholic who disappeared. Her rage turns outward towards those who do not give her the attention she was missing from her parents. It ultimately manifests as a desire to commit murder after the game's fictionalised Japan reports on regional mass killings.
Like Super Columbine Massacre RPG, MMSS appears then to be a work which asks for a societal introspection alongside our abject horror. By not referencing a specific historical event, MMSS has the potential to make commentary without inflicting direct emotional harm. Its gamification and unnamed player character have the potential to instill a sense of being complicit with the act, as with Brenda Romero's 2009 board game Train. Even its arcade gameplay loop, high scores, and unlocks have the potential to increase engagement for some grand payoff of self-disgust that one would invest so much time into becoming good at murdering teachers and children. A part of me held out hope in my few playthroughs that there would be some message at the end of it all, that this glorification of violence would have a point. Instead, MMSS is closer to JFK: Reloaded. It teaches nothing. It has nothing to say. It exists to shock. It exists to hurt.
Play
On a technical and mechanical level, MMSS is something of a marvel. It is an RPGMaker game with gunplay. There is an undeniable element of strategy to it. Suffice it to say that every aspect of school shootings are on display here. If you have seen coverage of new schools in the United States being built to 'confuse and frustrate' school shooters, you can intuit how the prototypical Japanese school might facilitate mass murder with firearms and explosives. The player needs to slow down to increase their accuracy. I leave it to you to put two and two together. The unlocks amount to different weapons the player can use, as well as cheats. The player needs to manage the loaded ammunition between their weapons so as to not end up reloading while students wielding poles lunge at them to stop their advance. The player has a very strict time limit before the police arrive to arrest them. The player gets the most points for killing female students. None of this is particularly fun, even if it were removed from what it is depicting, but that it has been done on an engine meant for traditional JRPGs is impressive. That it is mechanically more than pointing and shooting is noteworthy. It is just barely engaging enough to warrant a couple playthroughs.
Precedent
Discussion of MMSS necessitates consideration of its creator and their niche. MMSS was developed by エリック aka erikku aka eric806359 aka kata235. They are an ero guro artist. Their depiction and obsession with the macabre is not in line with an H.R. Giger type, however. It comes across as more similar to the work of the Marquis de Sade. Reading through erikku's Twitter feed and scrolling through their Pixiv feels like trawling through The 120 Days of Sodom; it is a display of an amoral libertine.
Some choice textual excerpts from their Twitter (roughly translated):
"Drawing muscles makes me want to eat them."
"A touching coming-of-age story in which a young girl who has just lost her father gets a gun and grows up to be a splendid mass murderer."
"If I'm going to die anyways, I want the human race to perish while I'm still alive."
"I'm not a monster. Even for someone like me, I have human likes and dislikes. ...For example, what I love is 'Decapitation'"
I think you get the idea.
Their Pixiv is similarly naught but ero guro. Ero guro is not some 'release valve' for erikku, it is their sole purpose.
Perusal
Despite this, MMSS contains zero erotic elements. ConeCvltist stated in his review that MMSS probably exists for someone to get their rocks off. I think he is at once right and wrong in this assertion. Without explicit eroticism, MMSS is only a guro work, and thus cannot be said to be primarily for sexual gratification. However, it is also inextricable from its creator's main body of work. His illustrations of MMSS's main character are surrounded by nude women's stomachs being cut open, by school girls being strangled to death, of raw human flesh being consumed next to bare corpses. MMSS is not explicitly sexual, but it is implicitly erotic. The primary demographic is not you or I, but those already familiar with erikku's portfolio. And while not in the game itself, erikku has made numerous animations of the player character shooting school girls, their inflated chests jiggling, their panties digging into their crotches.
MMSS is unable to depict this level of fidelity for gore or lewdness in RPGMaker due to the rapid pace of gameplay. What illustrative art is present shows up in the introduction, endings, and when in the apartment at the start. For erikku's intended audience, however, those depictions don't need to explicitly exist within the game. One's familiarity with those short animation clips, those illustrations allows them to, in part, fill in the gaps during gameplay. In researching erikku and being exposed to the supportive art for MMSS, subsequent playthroughs have been marred by more accurate depictions of the violence and murder rendered in pixel form. Furthermore, I have seen that his illustrations and animation snippets are released in packs with other, non-MMSS related works of an ero guro nature. The mind fills in the gaps, the mind construes all of this as sexual.
Pang
In MMSS, during the news report on recent killings, one scene shows a middle school girl being escorted by police as her victims clutch their stomachs. This murderer committed their acts with a kitchen knife. They primarily targetted girls.
As mentioned at the very start, there has been one school massacre in Japanese history. It involved a kitchen knife. The perpetrator primarily targetted girls.
This is odious enough on its own, this unveiled allusion to the Osaka school massacre as tasteless as anything making light of the mass murder of children. erikku's fanbase will recognise this as a direct reference to his other game, Rouka de Onigokku (Tag in the Hallway). You sprint through hallways and stab students before you can be caught. It operates like an endless runner. The William Tell Overture plays the whole time. While MMSS references tragedy broadly, Rouka de Onigokku references it precisely. In MMSS one can even unlock use of a knife to carry out the game's mass murder in the same manner as Rouka de Onigokku's main character. It is despicable. It gets worse.
Perturbed
There is very scant documentation of MMSS on the English-speaking clearnet. I myself only came across it by chance on Backloggd. What I have found is deplorable.
Following the release of MMSS, erikku started answering fan questions on Twitter. Most of these are in Japanese, but some have been translated by erikku himself.
"Q: [...] how do you deal with negative feedback or criticism regarding the sensitive nature of 'taboo' nature of your art?
A: [...] I try not to care too much about negative feedback and so on :)"
"Q: [...] what do you use for inspiration before making a picture? Do you read about some real life murder cases?
A: I often read about real life murder cases, and watch a movie and TV series about murder. But I don't use anything for inspiration. I just draw what I want to draw."
His tweets continued in their perturbing statements. Above the aforementioned illustration of Rouka de Onigokku's main character, he writes "I was caught by the Thought Police and was temporarily suspended. It was caused by the cannibalism animation, but I think all the zombies are gone now. ...By the way, the situation in the picture is a very, very, very healthy illustration of a student playing a prank with ketchup and being taken care of by the police."
They also started answering questions on peing.net.
"I'm just painting 'imaginary violence against non-existent people.'"
"Murder, abductions, and transportation of body parts over long distances are very hard work, but it's better than repeating the incidents in a nearby area and narrowing the scope of police investigation towards you."
"I think there are various reasons why the culprit in Morimiya didn't commit suicide (including suicide by police). One of the goals is to know the suffering of the victims, including the survivors and bereaved families. It may also be the result of hatred towards the mother who took her own life. No matter how many people you kill, the hatred toward your mother, who took her own life and became a 'suicide statistic' cannot be cleared, but 'I won't die like that!' Is that the result of trying to persevere?"
"I have been drawing pictures of killing people since I was a child, but it was when I was a teenager that I start having interest in killing (anime) girls."
MMSS and Rouka de Onigokku are not just gamified depictions of perturbed minds. They are the machinations of a fucked up pervert. It gets worse.
Perverse
When looking up MMSS, one of the only results is the RPGMaker Fandom wiki. It provides the Google Drive link I got the game from. Far above that download link lies a link to the 'Official Discord,' with the blessing of erikku.
The rules for the 'Morityu Community Server' notably state the following:
"Rule 3. Don't be a weirdo. Keep edgelording to a minimum. If it's TMI, don't post it.
You can love seeing girls suffer all you want, just don't tell everyone, because nobody wants to hear about it.
Don't be that guy who idolizes mass shooters. It's cringe as hell and a sign that you should probably go outside for once."
"Rule 5. Do not talk about planning any mass murders or crimes of any form.
You may talk about previous cases of mass murder, but do not talk about the possibility of yourself or others committing crimes.
Even if you're not going to do it and are just posting it as a "what if", it is punishable by a ban.
This is the one rule you don't want to break."
The server is a cesspool of racism, homophobia, sexism, and generally making light of school shootings as a topic. Users have /k/ommando avatars and names and banners. They share gameplay clips and compete for high scores. They share links to movie clips of school shootings, they share DOOM WADs for school levels. They pontificate about whether or not women get aroused during shootings. They cheer for Russia's invasion of Ukraine, for police murdering black people. They hide behind the thinnest veneer of respecting Discord's ToS.
Searching for MMSS information led me to a danbooru post making light of the Christchurch mosque shootings. The artist's commentary notes the inefficacy of focusing on the victims of mass murder rather than the perpetrators themselves, particularly when those criminals understand how to effectively use the memetic nature of modern media.
It was also on that Fandom wiki I learned that the art room in MMSS has portraits of several school shooters. Real school shooters. If this is not glorification, I don't know what is.
The citation for that art room tidbit took me further still. A forum dedicated to Columbine and other school shootings and crimes. A thread titled Video games about Mass Murder. Users laud MMSS as one of the best games about mass murder. Avatars depict children holding guns threateningly. The Similar topics at the bottom of the thread ask what games school shooters played.
It's then I decided I had had enough.
Perpetuity
I wish there was a conclusion I could make here. Some hopeful message about erikku realising this is fucked beyond belief. That Discord being banned. The host of the Columbine forum shutting down.
There is no conclusion. There is no takeaway. This is revolting. Researching put knots in my gut. Writing evoked constant self-doubt.
I believe there is room for societal introspection on serious, challenging topics through games. But when the act of playing tragedy is not contextualised, is not condemned, then those games will function as just that, games. Tools for amusement, not for learning. Something to strategise about, not think critically about. A pedestal for amorality, not a mirror reflecting it.
Irredeemable.
Night in the Woods
2017
This review contains spoilers
Lovely game that captures the feeling of stasis and uncertainty that comes at varying times in your live. Where it feels like you are treading water, afraid of acknowledging the past but uncertain of the future. Things are changing and you can't quite keep up.
The characters are great, all very distinct and they interact in very honest ways. The dialogue is often very funny without being annoying, and has a lot of believability as the characters work through their issues. The music is probably the most underrated aspect of this game. I particularly enjoy the music that plays as you explore, which captures all of the feelings this game is going for.
Narratively it gets a little off the rails, honestly I forget the details. The characters are what make it special though. I love how you stay in one place, and that town changes around you, as you get to know people and new things happen. It feels real and true to life in a way few games manage.
The characters are great, all very distinct and they interact in very honest ways. The dialogue is often very funny without being annoying, and has a lot of believability as the characters work through their issues. The music is probably the most underrated aspect of this game. I particularly enjoy the music that plays as you explore, which captures all of the feelings this game is going for.
Narratively it gets a little off the rails, honestly I forget the details. The characters are what make it special though. I love how you stay in one place, and that town changes around you, as you get to know people and new things happen. It feels real and true to life in a way few games manage.
Osu!
2007
actually felt like i finally accomplished something monumental in my life after deleting this
thing is i bought a drawing tablet to play this and now i draw furry gay porn . growth
thing is i bought a drawing tablet to play this and now i draw furry gay porn . growth
Disney's DuckTales
1989
Finally, a game that understands that the most important thing is the acquisition of wealth. Friends and family are fine only if they can help you become the richest duck in the world. It turns out that the real treasure was the treasures we found along the way.
The moon theme is pretty good, but I dunno, I still kind of like One-Winged Angel
The moon theme is pretty good, but I dunno, I still kind of like One-Winged Angel
Congratulations! Your Nijisanji personality type is Tsukino Mito
Genshin Impact
2020
I have to explain something very fundamental about this game, anything that pertains to the story is bad, comically bad, Genshin's likability outside of its combat and environments comes from its characters but some of them are just lifted from anime archetypes, archetypes I very much hate
Characters like Ayaka are genuinely just generic cookie-cutter waifubait for losers, her brother Ayato is somehow very influential in the political landscape but does not make him at all interesting or alluring of a character despite how committed his fans may be,
You pull up Xiao’s trailer and it’s just some dumb shounen emo MC bullshit, everything I dislike about the game is in its insistence to cater to the most rancid, acrid, putrid smelliest part of its fanbase,
Don’t even get me started on whatever they were doing with Shenhe
These however are a blip on the radar as there are plenty of endearing personalities in the game like Mona, Fischl, Keqing etc (this etc is doing overtime in this sentence because there’s like 70 billion characters).
The gacha factor that fuels enough revenue for each monthly update both ensures and bankrupts the game’s quality, Genshin genuinely markets one of the best trailers I’ve seen, with one of the best OST I’ve ever come across, I’ve listened to them till my ears have bled, with each update Genshin just does something that makes me come back and want to stick with it. It’s always experimenting, oh you hate climbing? Here’s electric totems in Inazuma you can zoom across in the air. Oh, that was a bit janky to use? Well in Sumeru we’ve made these golden symbols in the air that you can “grapple hook” onto so you can traverse the landscape much faster. It acknowledges it’s flaws and constantly reduces tedium and increases enjoyment, and having fixed updates month-wise really helps it increase its quality and potential,
But on the flip-side Genshin always wants to rush things, it can’t hold onto an interesting story beat for more than a hot minute, it’s too busy making flashy cutscenes it can showcase on YouTube, bigger shinier bosses that are cool to look at horrendous to fight just so it can be cooler to market it, and it does work, every single day I watch the Genshin Global group post a damn “Genshin Anime Opening!!!” with all of the most anime-tier shounen MC scenes the game loves pushing out, the audience it panders to really does reciprocate in full, especially the harem loving audience.
The combat is excellent and that’s all I have to say for it, it’s simple it’s responsive and plenty of room for experimentation all the time and the new Dendro element they’ve included really shows how they completely understand how their system functions and the most fun that can be extracted out of it.
All in all, with a bad story, good lore, good combat, hit or miss puzzles, ambitious environments as well as some insufferable ones, Genshin persists, and on the occasion it can truly blow your mind (like the Chinese Opera), or completely fail to meet any expectations whatsoever.
Characters like Ayaka are genuinely just generic cookie-cutter waifubait for losers, her brother Ayato is somehow very influential in the political landscape but does not make him at all interesting or alluring of a character despite how committed his fans may be,
You pull up Xiao’s trailer and it’s just some dumb shounen emo MC bullshit, everything I dislike about the game is in its insistence to cater to the most rancid, acrid, putrid smelliest part of its fanbase,
Don’t even get me started on whatever they were doing with Shenhe
These however are a blip on the radar as there are plenty of endearing personalities in the game like Mona, Fischl, Keqing etc (this etc is doing overtime in this sentence because there’s like 70 billion characters).
The gacha factor that fuels enough revenue for each monthly update both ensures and bankrupts the game’s quality, Genshin genuinely markets one of the best trailers I’ve seen, with one of the best OST I’ve ever come across, I’ve listened to them till my ears have bled, with each update Genshin just does something that makes me come back and want to stick with it. It’s always experimenting, oh you hate climbing? Here’s electric totems in Inazuma you can zoom across in the air. Oh, that was a bit janky to use? Well in Sumeru we’ve made these golden symbols in the air that you can “grapple hook” onto so you can traverse the landscape much faster. It acknowledges it’s flaws and constantly reduces tedium and increases enjoyment, and having fixed updates month-wise really helps it increase its quality and potential,
But on the flip-side Genshin always wants to rush things, it can’t hold onto an interesting story beat for more than a hot minute, it’s too busy making flashy cutscenes it can showcase on YouTube, bigger shinier bosses that are cool to look at horrendous to fight just so it can be cooler to market it, and it does work, every single day I watch the Genshin Global group post a damn “Genshin Anime Opening!!!” with all of the most anime-tier shounen MC scenes the game loves pushing out, the audience it panders to really does reciprocate in full, especially the harem loving audience.
The combat is excellent and that’s all I have to say for it, it’s simple it’s responsive and plenty of room for experimentation all the time and the new Dendro element they’ve included really shows how they completely understand how their system functions and the most fun that can be extracted out of it.
All in all, with a bad story, good lore, good combat, hit or miss puzzles, ambitious environments as well as some insufferable ones, Genshin persists, and on the occasion it can truly blow your mind (like the Chinese Opera), or completely fail to meet any expectations whatsoever.
That Dragon, Cancer
2016
Why do we play videogames?
There’s no right or wrong answer to this question. For a lot of us, videogames exist as a form of entertainment. We seek to exploit and bend game mechanics to our will to have fun, competing both against the game and against others in this push and pull of winning versus losing. For me, I see fun as part of the spectrum of emotions that interactive media can bring out of us; while I’m always down to play video games for enjoyment, I’ve also been a bit of a believer that videogames can coexist alongside this tried-and-true definition as a medium that’s just as capable of bringing out an entire range of emotions like sorrow, anxiety, and tension, alongside the joy of playing games. And so, it was in that kind of mood that one day, I was browsing the Steam store for indie games, scouring for the newest exploratory story-rich game present as a particular species of “art game,” “games for change,” “social impact games,” or whatever term you want to use for that strain of indie games that tries to tell a story via integration of game mechanics and narrative that focuses less on big budget production and more on the construction and deconstruction of everything else going into it.
Enter That Dragon, Cancer. I’ve known about this title for at least five, maybe six years now, but never got around to it; perhaps I felt as if I wasn’t in the right mood, the right setting, hadn’t done the proper amount of preparation to really get everything out of the game. And honestly, nothing could have ever prepared me for it. No amount of playing What Remains of Edith Finch or Spiritfarer or even Rakuen alongside anything marked as a “tearjerker” or under the “Emotional” tag on Steam could have left me ready to tackle the heavy subjects presented in That Dragon, Cancer, an experience which the Steam Store page sums up as “An immersive, narrative videogame that retells Joel Green’s 4-year fight against cancer through about two hours of poetic, imaginative gameplay that explores themes of faith, hope and love.” It is the most undisguised game I have perhaps ever experienced, a game that is so unapologetically personal and close to the heart in memorializing a lost family member that I felt guilty at times intruding upon the scenes and memories written into the engine. And it did so in a way that I honestly cannot say many other games have attempted, much less done well.
Most games in this genre utilize a variety of (often thinly) veiled narrative metaphors to portray morals and tragedy alongside gameplay, embedded character backgrounds and world-building to provoke thoughts and emotions among the players; they don’t necessarily market themselves as games that are meant to spin yarns of melancholy and despair, but they have that sort of “feel” to them where you can tell that in many cases, a once joyous and brightly colored tale is headed in that general direction. I don’t think That Dragon, Cancer is anything like that; it is extremely upfront about its content and its intentions. Reading the description on the store page, it states, "This is where we go to remember our son Joel, up through here along this path. We want to show you who he was, and how his life changed us. Can we walk here together for a while?" There are no illusions of what lies at the end of the tunnel; you know how the game ends. Quite literally, what you see is what you get; this all actually happened, and the game becomes that much more emotionally raw because of that. It presents itself as a point and click adventure game with sporadic videogame gameplay elements and references scattered throughout (controlled very simply as there’s only one instance that actually requires use of the keyboard), serving to highlight the seemingly mundane in Joel Green’s five-year life as the valuable memories that construct his story. And make no mistake; this is a “video game,” just stripped down to its bare essentials. The medium’s elements are there to both emphasize the metaphors that convey the Green family’s struggle and at the same time, cleverly impart and evoke emotions by twisting your perception of what the game mechanics mean to the player regarding agency and perspective.
I’ll address one of the elephants in the room at this time; there are a lot of complaints scattered across the internet about how the gameplay is unfulfilling, or “unfun,” or how it’s a “bad video game” and shouldn’t be classified as a video game. Well… yeah, that is the point. Ryan Green has stated that it would defeat the purpose of the game if the tale of his family tending to Joel’s cancer treatment was considered fun. The closest comparison that I could make here would be to Phil Elverum’s album A Crow Looked At Me, written in the wake of his wife’s passing and focusing on brutally honest and unflinching diary-like lyricism with more muted musicality, and even this is an oversimplification. What Ryan Green sought to bring out of the medium was, rather, evoking a variety of emotions as you closely follow Joel’s journey. His answer to the “game” aspect is this: "I would say, 'No, it's not a game, but there are games in it… [a]nd it's not about fun. But there are moments when you have fun. And life is a mixture of the sorrowful and the joyful and weeping and playing and praying, and so I hope that it's a reflection of our life, you know, in the form of a videogame." The authors never intended for the game to exist simply as “a vault of sadness”; there are moments of pristine joy, when you spin Joel in the roundabout in the playground at the start of the game, or when you’re celebrating his end of treatment day in a kart racing minigame in the hospital corridors. And there are moments of tenderness, when Joel’s playing with the dog and you move the stethoscope around to revisit his sounds of laughter, or when Joel lies in his father’s arms feeding off the IV, and moments of anger, trepidation, and exhaustion when Ryan and Amy Green learn that the tumors have been spotted again and become overwhelmed in their tidal waves of grief. To try and label That Dragon, Cancer as another “tearjerker” would be wrong; the whole package is much more than just an outpouring of grief, and the game mechanics themselves serve as devices to impart the wide range of emotions.
You may have heard of the controversy surrounding That Dragon, Cancer’s address towards full Let’s Plays of the game, where some YouTube playthroughs of the game were copyright claimed due to audio (from Jon Hillman’s soundtrack) and the Numinous Games team lamented that some full playthroughs had hit millions of views with some not even linking to the original authors/source material, even though the game at that time had only sold a modest 16,000 copies. While the topic of the relationship between game developers and Let’s Players is beyond the scope of this review, I do want to state this; I don’t believe that a Let’s Play is a genuine substitute for actually experiencing That Dragon, Cancer. It is nevertheless valuable as a snapshot of how another person views the game through their own lens, but it will never replace Ryan Green’s vision of putting the player into the family’s shoes, experiencing every moment of their journey of hope in the shadow of death. He came to the idea of translating his experiences into video game form from reflecting upon one miserable night, where Joel kept howling from dehydration and nothing Ryan did could ease his pain; he had been thinking about how mechanics dictated how players in a video game interact with elements on the screen, and thought “This is like a game where the mechanics are subverted and don’t work.” Several notable instances registered during my own playthrough that confounded my own expectations. The structure of the overall game itself is an interesting example; most games of this form utilize a pseudo-open world environment within the levels, where players walk around with WASD and look around with the mouse. But as mentioned previously, That Dragon, Cancer simplifies this approach and works as a point and click to move to highlightable nodes; by doing so, it has the appearance of a game that suggests freedom within its environments, but in reality restricts you to only a few locations with certain viewpoints embedded for the characters’ experiences, as such takes full advantage of maximizing detail within certain viewpoints while subverting this expectation of free movement and focusing the player on reliving the experiences of those represented in the game while quite literally standing in their place. Another good example happens during a certain dream sequence where Joel is floating in the stars hanging onto heart balloons, while you as the player must control him, dodging spiky black balls of thorns that represent the antagonist of this narrative, cancer, omnipresent and always just lurking around the corner in its pernicious, pervasive malice. Here, the game subverts the idea of a win condition; you can keep dodging the spiky balls for as long as you’d like (or rather, as long as you’re able to), but there’s no end or reward to “doing well;” at some point, cancer will pop all of Joel’s heart balloons, at which the nightmare ends. Finally, the aforementioned story segment titled “Dehydration” puts you in the role of Ryan looking over Joel during that fateful night where an inconsolable Joel, wailing in anguish and banging his head against the hospital bed crib right beside you, simply cannot be stopped. You, as Ryan, can attempt to ease Joel by giving him juice boxes as a remedy for the dehydration, but Joel just vomits it back up. As Joel continues coughing and crying, the illusion of player control disappears and Ryan is left feeling empty, his head face down on his hands as he prays for relief, that a miracle will happen and bring his son a moment of peace. Only by playing the video game can you experience the shock when first offered the expectation of a certain degree of player agency, and then having the curtains torn away when it’s revealed that nothing you do will lend any semblance of changing the final outcome.
And yet, the developers went further; Numinous Games further experimented with their ideas of player perspective and player agency that could only be utilized in the video game format. One emblematic example occurs during chapter seven, aptly titled “I’m Sorry Guys, It’s Not Good.” You’re first introduced to the See n’ Say that Joel is playing around with as a brief moment of levity, the calm before the storm. Once the doctors enter the room, the animal slots on the See n’ Say become the faces of the Green family and the doctors; you can then use the See n’ Say to progress the conversation and shift the perspective to one of the doctors or the family members and essentially, listen to their inner thoughts. As the conversation continues, the sea level begins to rise; you as the player can rewind time using the See n’ Say to revisit the adults’ perspectives in the room, allowing you to take the necessary time to process the heavy topic of Joel’s final prognosis before the ocean swallows everyone. But at some point, you have to move on and accept that your actions cannot prevent the inevitable, just as Joel and the adults cannot fight the ocean; the lack of control becomes even more evident. It’s in this moment that I as the player began to reflect upon the time spent in the scenes prior; the game never rushed me as I spent time playing with Joel in the playground, or rocking in a chair holding Joel as he was fed with his IV, but did I, as the player, spend enough time with Joel to decompartmentalize everything that was going on around me, or was I just letting time slip by me in these fleeting moments when the end was nigh? This idea of using a video game space to capture and remain transfixed in moments in time was reflected in the documentary Thank You For Playing, where Amy Green commented that the family was so eager to document so much regarding Joel’s life and the everyday moments spent with him, because they were afraid of what would happen if they weren’t recording and if so, “wouldn’t ever be able to go back.” The final scene of the game, titled “Picnic at the edge of the world,” serves as a final reminder of this idea. Here, after taking a rowboat with just you and Joel, you meet Joel in the clearing of the woods on an isolated island, where he is surrounded by pancakes and finally able to speak coherently (not present prior because the cancer had caused significant development issues). He offers you a pancake and a seat at the picnic as he scratches his dog “Manju,” and your response is to blow bubbles as Joel stares in awe and attempts to catch them. There’s no strict time limit on this scene, as you can theoretically blow bubbles forever with Joel here, though the camera will begin to pan away after a few moments of non-interaction. But, you still the chance to go back if you change your mind for a little bit, as an icon appears to signify that it’s still possible to click back to the picnic to blow more bubbles. The player agency here is all that's necessary to signify the importance of this final moment; you can still go back and blow bubbles to your own leisure, but at some point, you have to let go, just like the Green family did. As such, no other medium can offer this idea of player agency and control to highlight just how important these seemingly mundane moments with Joel are in the overall scope of his life, giving you as the player as much time as you need to process the details while giving you the option to move forward when you’re ready. Nevertheless, it’s unafraid to suddenly take away that agency when it feels the need to make a point, as “That's what fighting cancer is like... no agency, no control”.
There’s one other significant example that I think emphasizes That Dragon, Cancer’s understanding of subverting video game mechanics and player agency/control to impart a wide range of emotions, in the form of Scene 9, “Joel the Baby Knight.” Here, the player controls Joel in a set of cardboard armor as Amy and Ryan Green convey Joel’s treatment as his battle versus a dragon named Cancer in the form of a bedtime story to their other children. Reminding me as an almost throwback to the early, crude 2D platformers I played as flash games on Newgrounds, this section is almost fun; you duck underneath Cancer’s fireballs as you traverse the DIY videogame landscape, throwing spears at MS Paint red serpents in your way. Eventually, Joel enters a cave, where he is chased down and trapped by the dragon. And here, the developers do something simple yet effective; you can’t actually slay the dragon. No matter how well you play with the rough controls, dodging the fireballs and throwing spears to increase your score as the dragon’s health bar slowly decreases, it will never decrease past half a heart. Because after all, as one of the other kids mentions, Joel’s just a little kid, and “babies can’t defeat dragons.” Nor can their neighbor Tim, from church; both eventually fall to the dragon. It seems like such an easy design choice in retrospect, but this metaphor, and my personal moment in finding out that my efforts ultimately would never beat the “boss,” spoke volumes in conveying how cancer is this beast that can be dulled, but never truly defeated. And it’s in this moment that Amy and Ryan Green begin to work in their faith, telling their kids that “God is right there fighting the dragon with Joel” and that while many brave knights have valiantly fought cancer, and that it may appear that they have lost because they died, “maybe getting to be done fighting was grace.”
Perhaps this is the most contentious aspect of That Dragon, Cancer. Ryan and Amy Green are very devout Christians, and their faith in God and those around them is one of the main themes of the overall game. For what it’s worth, I never saw this as a negative, because despite not being a religious person myself, Ryan and Amy never felt preachy to me; their struggle with maintaining faith in the depths of despair while their child battled terminal cancer is integral to them ultimately accepting Joel’s fate. Ryan’s struggle in particular feels very human; he has many glimpses of doubt and is portrayed as someone who wants to be “drowning” in his doubt, just to feel what it’s like even when Amy attempts to pull him out. Everyone deals with death in different ways, and I appreciate that something this personal is not only shown at all, but portrayed with thoughtful nuance; the Greens come across as far too earnest and caring of Joel for me to broach this topic with any sense of cynicism. Ryan has stated that “Loving Joel was not safe,” but they didn’t even see detachment as an option. Amy herself admitted, “We pushed past that self-preservation because Joel was worth loving, even if that love could crush us.” Ultimately, I will admit that I also don’t know how important my interpretation of their faith is; this is a love-letter to their deceased child that feels like I am infringing upon their personal space at times when viewing through their window, and while I and the Green family admit that the game is a tough sell, it is ultimately something so personal and so sincerely told that I’m not sure if outside interpretations matter in the overall scope of the Greens’ experiences. But there lies the bigger question; if the game is so niche, so “unfun” to play and perhaps polarizing to many who are not devoutly religious, and may even hit “too close to home” for some who have been there, then why take a chance and play this game at all?
Two particular stories come to mind. The first takes place during PAX Prime, 2013, in a small booth dedicated to showing curious attendees an early demo of the game. Responses to the game ranged from some hastily walking away, to some more becoming teary-eyed and needing some time to recompose before leaving, to the developer who began to sob and said “I don’t want to be here at PAX; I want to be home with my kids.” The depth of emotional responses evoked by the demo that Ryan Green witnessed that day brought something out of him that he had previously forgotten, and a little while later, as captured in the documentary Thank You For Playing, he too is beside himself with tears; according to him, his experiences of taking care of Joel and being alongside Joel during every step of his treatment had become so normalized to him, that he hadn’t completely realized the enormity of many of the memories that had been present in the demo. The second story comes as an extension of this launching point: during the Kickstarter campaign used to further fund the game’s development, Numinous Games gave their backers an opportunity to include messages addressed to their own family members and loved ones, many of whom had also battled cancer and were no longer in this world. These messages are scattered throughout the rooms and hallways of the scene titled “Waking Up,” in the form of hundreds of cards lying about the environment. This particular interaction is something that cannot ever be captured 1:1 by a video recording of the game; it is up to the player to choose how ever many cards and messages they want to read before moving on. Personally, I tried to get to as many cards as I could, but the sheer number of messages and tributes left me overwhelmed at times. It was in that moment that I realized my initial interpretation of That Dragon, Cancer’s scope was wrong; it wasn’t just a memorial for Joel, because at the end of the day, “…while this is a story about Joel, everybody has a Joel.”
I will be frank; while I may have experienced some degree of loss in my life, nothing I have experienced even comes close to the loss that the Greens have encountered in their recollection of Joel’s story. To even suggest that I could try and use my own experiences to relate my own struggles to their struggle of being right beside Joel Green during every step of his treatment and eventual passing would be disrespectful to his memory and everything that the family has gone through. That is why I believe that the least I can do, is hear them out. To gain a window into a snapshot of their lives as a complete outsider to try and better understand their experiences while looking through their lens with the video game medium in a tale that is so painfully intimate is something so powerful, that I’m not sure words are strong enough to describe the experience. Empathy is what can be gleaned here. Moreover, in another article, O’Hern et al. claims that the game may be conducive in the training of health care workers, stating that “[e]vidence suggests… empathy decreases during medical training,” and that emotional experiences like That Dragon, Cancer may serve as a powerful preservative of empathy. It’s why despite being a game that “is not fun to play,” That Dragon, Cancer is valuable in utilizing the video game medium and all its various tools and mechanics to more effectively convey its tale of Joel Green while providing an outlet, both for those who have experienced similar loss to share and for those who have not experienced similar loss to step into different shoes to better understand the perspectives of those who have.
I can’t help but hold the Green family in high regards for the decisions made during the production of this game, or how it was even conceived in the first place, or how its bold, intense, vulnerability alongside carefully examined and thought-out use of the video game medium manages to evoke a wide range of emotions. It’s unfathomable to me that “[i]t was the story that began as a miracle and ended as a memorial” and it still manages to remain more than just an outpouring of grief, because Joel Green’s death was more than just a tragedy. At the end of the day, it wasn’t even the story that they wanted to tell. Regardless, they’re choosing to forge their own path forward, and share their experiences with others in hopes that we can become more open about discussing death, or that personal experiences can be more expressively shared through the video game medium and we’re often “all in this together,” or even implementing death as more than just a video game mechanic that serves as a fail state or a trivial means to an end, instead taking a more “death positive” approach that examines death in video games in dealing with its meaning and its consequences. Ryan Green himself asks, “What if videogames are the inception of a medium that will allow us to encode the voices of people who have changed the world... or in my case, a small voice, that changed my whole world?”
In another sense, I was wrong again. I thought That Dragon, Cancer was far too personal, starkly penetrating, and profound for me at first; I originally saw it more or less as a documentary painted with adversity, an unspeakably hard tale captured in a video game space that I would play once, shed my tears, and move on having listened to their story with little to no catharsis. After all, how could one find catharsis in something that is so tragically true? But it was much more than that; the journey of being in someone else’s shoes, living a little of their life through video games capturing an emotional landscape that would otherwise be lost in time and having my expectations played with thoughtfully to impart an array of feelings that otherwise may not have been evoked from a more passive experience... that was the catharsis itself. I will not “score” That Dragon, Cancer or mark this with spoilers in the hopes of talking about this experience more openly and out of respect for the Greens’ story, but let this be known; I could not help but be moved by the earnestness of what was presented to me over the course of two hours. This experience has once again reminded me that emotionally compelling pieces of media have the power to change lives, and while still in their relative infancy in video games, games like That Dragon, Cancer continue to reaffirm my belief that this medium has value and still has so much more to offer. I suppose that’s why I play video games at the end of the day; to feel a range of emotions just like this, and to share my experiences with others in hopes that they will get similar reactions or experiences just like me. Thank you for sharing your story, Ryan & Amy Green, and may Joel Green rest in peace.
Sources used:
That Dragon, Cancer Steam Store Page
Thank You For Playing
That Dragon, Cancer 2016 Game Awards Acceptance Speech
That Dragon, Cancer wins Game Innovation | BAFTA Games Awards 2017
A video game to cope with grief | Amy Green
Curing ideological cancers with video games
Experimental Gameplay Workshop 2015: That Dragon Cancer
That Dragon, Cancer & Purpose
Errant Signal - That Dragon, Cancer
That Dragon, Let’s Play
On Let’s Plays
Turning tragedy into a videogame memorial
"That Dragon, Cancer" Feature Film - "Thank You For Playing" Documentary
E3 13: That Dragon, Cancer Interview
That Dragon, Cancer - A journey with a family dealing with cancer - PAX 2013
Interview With Ryan & Amy Green: Creators Of 'That Dragon, Cancer'
Meet Joel, taking it one day at a time | My Last Days
That Dragon, Cancer: A game for Joel
Tribeca ’15: “That Dragon, Cancer” Q&A with Ryan Green
Interview with Ryan & Amy Green and the Development Team of That Dragon, Cancer
A Father, a Dying Son, and the Quest to Make the Most Profound Videogame Ever
Representation of Death in Independent Videogames: Providing a Space for Meaningful Death Reflection
That Dragon, Cancer—Exploring End of Life Through an Unwinnable Video Game
There’s no right or wrong answer to this question. For a lot of us, videogames exist as a form of entertainment. We seek to exploit and bend game mechanics to our will to have fun, competing both against the game and against others in this push and pull of winning versus losing. For me, I see fun as part of the spectrum of emotions that interactive media can bring out of us; while I’m always down to play video games for enjoyment, I’ve also been a bit of a believer that videogames can coexist alongside this tried-and-true definition as a medium that’s just as capable of bringing out an entire range of emotions like sorrow, anxiety, and tension, alongside the joy of playing games. And so, it was in that kind of mood that one day, I was browsing the Steam store for indie games, scouring for the newest exploratory story-rich game present as a particular species of “art game,” “games for change,” “social impact games,” or whatever term you want to use for that strain of indie games that tries to tell a story via integration of game mechanics and narrative that focuses less on big budget production and more on the construction and deconstruction of everything else going into it.
Enter That Dragon, Cancer. I’ve known about this title for at least five, maybe six years now, but never got around to it; perhaps I felt as if I wasn’t in the right mood, the right setting, hadn’t done the proper amount of preparation to really get everything out of the game. And honestly, nothing could have ever prepared me for it. No amount of playing What Remains of Edith Finch or Spiritfarer or even Rakuen alongside anything marked as a “tearjerker” or under the “Emotional” tag on Steam could have left me ready to tackle the heavy subjects presented in That Dragon, Cancer, an experience which the Steam Store page sums up as “An immersive, narrative videogame that retells Joel Green’s 4-year fight against cancer through about two hours of poetic, imaginative gameplay that explores themes of faith, hope and love.” It is the most undisguised game I have perhaps ever experienced, a game that is so unapologetically personal and close to the heart in memorializing a lost family member that I felt guilty at times intruding upon the scenes and memories written into the engine. And it did so in a way that I honestly cannot say many other games have attempted, much less done well.
Most games in this genre utilize a variety of (often thinly) veiled narrative metaphors to portray morals and tragedy alongside gameplay, embedded character backgrounds and world-building to provoke thoughts and emotions among the players; they don’t necessarily market themselves as games that are meant to spin yarns of melancholy and despair, but they have that sort of “feel” to them where you can tell that in many cases, a once joyous and brightly colored tale is headed in that general direction. I don’t think That Dragon, Cancer is anything like that; it is extremely upfront about its content and its intentions. Reading the description on the store page, it states, "This is where we go to remember our son Joel, up through here along this path. We want to show you who he was, and how his life changed us. Can we walk here together for a while?" There are no illusions of what lies at the end of the tunnel; you know how the game ends. Quite literally, what you see is what you get; this all actually happened, and the game becomes that much more emotionally raw because of that. It presents itself as a point and click adventure game with sporadic videogame gameplay elements and references scattered throughout (controlled very simply as there’s only one instance that actually requires use of the keyboard), serving to highlight the seemingly mundane in Joel Green’s five-year life as the valuable memories that construct his story. And make no mistake; this is a “video game,” just stripped down to its bare essentials. The medium’s elements are there to both emphasize the metaphors that convey the Green family’s struggle and at the same time, cleverly impart and evoke emotions by twisting your perception of what the game mechanics mean to the player regarding agency and perspective.
I’ll address one of the elephants in the room at this time; there are a lot of complaints scattered across the internet about how the gameplay is unfulfilling, or “unfun,” or how it’s a “bad video game” and shouldn’t be classified as a video game. Well… yeah, that is the point. Ryan Green has stated that it would defeat the purpose of the game if the tale of his family tending to Joel’s cancer treatment was considered fun. The closest comparison that I could make here would be to Phil Elverum’s album A Crow Looked At Me, written in the wake of his wife’s passing and focusing on brutally honest and unflinching diary-like lyricism with more muted musicality, and even this is an oversimplification. What Ryan Green sought to bring out of the medium was, rather, evoking a variety of emotions as you closely follow Joel’s journey. His answer to the “game” aspect is this: "I would say, 'No, it's not a game, but there are games in it… [a]nd it's not about fun. But there are moments when you have fun. And life is a mixture of the sorrowful and the joyful and weeping and playing and praying, and so I hope that it's a reflection of our life, you know, in the form of a videogame." The authors never intended for the game to exist simply as “a vault of sadness”; there are moments of pristine joy, when you spin Joel in the roundabout in the playground at the start of the game, or when you’re celebrating his end of treatment day in a kart racing minigame in the hospital corridors. And there are moments of tenderness, when Joel’s playing with the dog and you move the stethoscope around to revisit his sounds of laughter, or when Joel lies in his father’s arms feeding off the IV, and moments of anger, trepidation, and exhaustion when Ryan and Amy Green learn that the tumors have been spotted again and become overwhelmed in their tidal waves of grief. To try and label That Dragon, Cancer as another “tearjerker” would be wrong; the whole package is much more than just an outpouring of grief, and the game mechanics themselves serve as devices to impart the wide range of emotions.
You may have heard of the controversy surrounding That Dragon, Cancer’s address towards full Let’s Plays of the game, where some YouTube playthroughs of the game were copyright claimed due to audio (from Jon Hillman’s soundtrack) and the Numinous Games team lamented that some full playthroughs had hit millions of views with some not even linking to the original authors/source material, even though the game at that time had only sold a modest 16,000 copies. While the topic of the relationship between game developers and Let’s Players is beyond the scope of this review, I do want to state this; I don’t believe that a Let’s Play is a genuine substitute for actually experiencing That Dragon, Cancer. It is nevertheless valuable as a snapshot of how another person views the game through their own lens, but it will never replace Ryan Green’s vision of putting the player into the family’s shoes, experiencing every moment of their journey of hope in the shadow of death. He came to the idea of translating his experiences into video game form from reflecting upon one miserable night, where Joel kept howling from dehydration and nothing Ryan did could ease his pain; he had been thinking about how mechanics dictated how players in a video game interact with elements on the screen, and thought “This is like a game where the mechanics are subverted and don’t work.” Several notable instances registered during my own playthrough that confounded my own expectations. The structure of the overall game itself is an interesting example; most games of this form utilize a pseudo-open world environment within the levels, where players walk around with WASD and look around with the mouse. But as mentioned previously, That Dragon, Cancer simplifies this approach and works as a point and click to move to highlightable nodes; by doing so, it has the appearance of a game that suggests freedom within its environments, but in reality restricts you to only a few locations with certain viewpoints embedded for the characters’ experiences, as such takes full advantage of maximizing detail within certain viewpoints while subverting this expectation of free movement and focusing the player on reliving the experiences of those represented in the game while quite literally standing in their place. Another good example happens during a certain dream sequence where Joel is floating in the stars hanging onto heart balloons, while you as the player must control him, dodging spiky black balls of thorns that represent the antagonist of this narrative, cancer, omnipresent and always just lurking around the corner in its pernicious, pervasive malice. Here, the game subverts the idea of a win condition; you can keep dodging the spiky balls for as long as you’d like (or rather, as long as you’re able to), but there’s no end or reward to “doing well;” at some point, cancer will pop all of Joel’s heart balloons, at which the nightmare ends. Finally, the aforementioned story segment titled “Dehydration” puts you in the role of Ryan looking over Joel during that fateful night where an inconsolable Joel, wailing in anguish and banging his head against the hospital bed crib right beside you, simply cannot be stopped. You, as Ryan, can attempt to ease Joel by giving him juice boxes as a remedy for the dehydration, but Joel just vomits it back up. As Joel continues coughing and crying, the illusion of player control disappears and Ryan is left feeling empty, his head face down on his hands as he prays for relief, that a miracle will happen and bring his son a moment of peace. Only by playing the video game can you experience the shock when first offered the expectation of a certain degree of player agency, and then having the curtains torn away when it’s revealed that nothing you do will lend any semblance of changing the final outcome.
And yet, the developers went further; Numinous Games further experimented with their ideas of player perspective and player agency that could only be utilized in the video game format. One emblematic example occurs during chapter seven, aptly titled “I’m Sorry Guys, It’s Not Good.” You’re first introduced to the See n’ Say that Joel is playing around with as a brief moment of levity, the calm before the storm. Once the doctors enter the room, the animal slots on the See n’ Say become the faces of the Green family and the doctors; you can then use the See n’ Say to progress the conversation and shift the perspective to one of the doctors or the family members and essentially, listen to their inner thoughts. As the conversation continues, the sea level begins to rise; you as the player can rewind time using the See n’ Say to revisit the adults’ perspectives in the room, allowing you to take the necessary time to process the heavy topic of Joel’s final prognosis before the ocean swallows everyone. But at some point, you have to move on and accept that your actions cannot prevent the inevitable, just as Joel and the adults cannot fight the ocean; the lack of control becomes even more evident. It’s in this moment that I as the player began to reflect upon the time spent in the scenes prior; the game never rushed me as I spent time playing with Joel in the playground, or rocking in a chair holding Joel as he was fed with his IV, but did I, as the player, spend enough time with Joel to decompartmentalize everything that was going on around me, or was I just letting time slip by me in these fleeting moments when the end was nigh? This idea of using a video game space to capture and remain transfixed in moments in time was reflected in the documentary Thank You For Playing, where Amy Green commented that the family was so eager to document so much regarding Joel’s life and the everyday moments spent with him, because they were afraid of what would happen if they weren’t recording and if so, “wouldn’t ever be able to go back.” The final scene of the game, titled “Picnic at the edge of the world,” serves as a final reminder of this idea. Here, after taking a rowboat with just you and Joel, you meet Joel in the clearing of the woods on an isolated island, where he is surrounded by pancakes and finally able to speak coherently (not present prior because the cancer had caused significant development issues). He offers you a pancake and a seat at the picnic as he scratches his dog “Manju,” and your response is to blow bubbles as Joel stares in awe and attempts to catch them. There’s no strict time limit on this scene, as you can theoretically blow bubbles forever with Joel here, though the camera will begin to pan away after a few moments of non-interaction. But, you still the chance to go back if you change your mind for a little bit, as an icon appears to signify that it’s still possible to click back to the picnic to blow more bubbles. The player agency here is all that's necessary to signify the importance of this final moment; you can still go back and blow bubbles to your own leisure, but at some point, you have to let go, just like the Green family did. As such, no other medium can offer this idea of player agency and control to highlight just how important these seemingly mundane moments with Joel are in the overall scope of his life, giving you as the player as much time as you need to process the details while giving you the option to move forward when you’re ready. Nevertheless, it’s unafraid to suddenly take away that agency when it feels the need to make a point, as “That's what fighting cancer is like... no agency, no control”.
There’s one other significant example that I think emphasizes That Dragon, Cancer’s understanding of subverting video game mechanics and player agency/control to impart a wide range of emotions, in the form of Scene 9, “Joel the Baby Knight.” Here, the player controls Joel in a set of cardboard armor as Amy and Ryan Green convey Joel’s treatment as his battle versus a dragon named Cancer in the form of a bedtime story to their other children. Reminding me as an almost throwback to the early, crude 2D platformers I played as flash games on Newgrounds, this section is almost fun; you duck underneath Cancer’s fireballs as you traverse the DIY videogame landscape, throwing spears at MS Paint red serpents in your way. Eventually, Joel enters a cave, where he is chased down and trapped by the dragon. And here, the developers do something simple yet effective; you can’t actually slay the dragon. No matter how well you play with the rough controls, dodging the fireballs and throwing spears to increase your score as the dragon’s health bar slowly decreases, it will never decrease past half a heart. Because after all, as one of the other kids mentions, Joel’s just a little kid, and “babies can’t defeat dragons.” Nor can their neighbor Tim, from church; both eventually fall to the dragon. It seems like such an easy design choice in retrospect, but this metaphor, and my personal moment in finding out that my efforts ultimately would never beat the “boss,” spoke volumes in conveying how cancer is this beast that can be dulled, but never truly defeated. And it’s in this moment that Amy and Ryan Green begin to work in their faith, telling their kids that “God is right there fighting the dragon with Joel” and that while many brave knights have valiantly fought cancer, and that it may appear that they have lost because they died, “maybe getting to be done fighting was grace.”
Perhaps this is the most contentious aspect of That Dragon, Cancer. Ryan and Amy Green are very devout Christians, and their faith in God and those around them is one of the main themes of the overall game. For what it’s worth, I never saw this as a negative, because despite not being a religious person myself, Ryan and Amy never felt preachy to me; their struggle with maintaining faith in the depths of despair while their child battled terminal cancer is integral to them ultimately accepting Joel’s fate. Ryan’s struggle in particular feels very human; he has many glimpses of doubt and is portrayed as someone who wants to be “drowning” in his doubt, just to feel what it’s like even when Amy attempts to pull him out. Everyone deals with death in different ways, and I appreciate that something this personal is not only shown at all, but portrayed with thoughtful nuance; the Greens come across as far too earnest and caring of Joel for me to broach this topic with any sense of cynicism. Ryan has stated that “Loving Joel was not safe,” but they didn’t even see detachment as an option. Amy herself admitted, “We pushed past that self-preservation because Joel was worth loving, even if that love could crush us.” Ultimately, I will admit that I also don’t know how important my interpretation of their faith is; this is a love-letter to their deceased child that feels like I am infringing upon their personal space at times when viewing through their window, and while I and the Green family admit that the game is a tough sell, it is ultimately something so personal and so sincerely told that I’m not sure if outside interpretations matter in the overall scope of the Greens’ experiences. But there lies the bigger question; if the game is so niche, so “unfun” to play and perhaps polarizing to many who are not devoutly religious, and may even hit “too close to home” for some who have been there, then why take a chance and play this game at all?
Two particular stories come to mind. The first takes place during PAX Prime, 2013, in a small booth dedicated to showing curious attendees an early demo of the game. Responses to the game ranged from some hastily walking away, to some more becoming teary-eyed and needing some time to recompose before leaving, to the developer who began to sob and said “I don’t want to be here at PAX; I want to be home with my kids.” The depth of emotional responses evoked by the demo that Ryan Green witnessed that day brought something out of him that he had previously forgotten, and a little while later, as captured in the documentary Thank You For Playing, he too is beside himself with tears; according to him, his experiences of taking care of Joel and being alongside Joel during every step of his treatment had become so normalized to him, that he hadn’t completely realized the enormity of many of the memories that had been present in the demo. The second story comes as an extension of this launching point: during the Kickstarter campaign used to further fund the game’s development, Numinous Games gave their backers an opportunity to include messages addressed to their own family members and loved ones, many of whom had also battled cancer and were no longer in this world. These messages are scattered throughout the rooms and hallways of the scene titled “Waking Up,” in the form of hundreds of cards lying about the environment. This particular interaction is something that cannot ever be captured 1:1 by a video recording of the game; it is up to the player to choose how ever many cards and messages they want to read before moving on. Personally, I tried to get to as many cards as I could, but the sheer number of messages and tributes left me overwhelmed at times. It was in that moment that I realized my initial interpretation of That Dragon, Cancer’s scope was wrong; it wasn’t just a memorial for Joel, because at the end of the day, “…while this is a story about Joel, everybody has a Joel.”
I will be frank; while I may have experienced some degree of loss in my life, nothing I have experienced even comes close to the loss that the Greens have encountered in their recollection of Joel’s story. To even suggest that I could try and use my own experiences to relate my own struggles to their struggle of being right beside Joel Green during every step of his treatment and eventual passing would be disrespectful to his memory and everything that the family has gone through. That is why I believe that the least I can do, is hear them out. To gain a window into a snapshot of their lives as a complete outsider to try and better understand their experiences while looking through their lens with the video game medium in a tale that is so painfully intimate is something so powerful, that I’m not sure words are strong enough to describe the experience. Empathy is what can be gleaned here. Moreover, in another article, O’Hern et al. claims that the game may be conducive in the training of health care workers, stating that “[e]vidence suggests… empathy decreases during medical training,” and that emotional experiences like That Dragon, Cancer may serve as a powerful preservative of empathy. It’s why despite being a game that “is not fun to play,” That Dragon, Cancer is valuable in utilizing the video game medium and all its various tools and mechanics to more effectively convey its tale of Joel Green while providing an outlet, both for those who have experienced similar loss to share and for those who have not experienced similar loss to step into different shoes to better understand the perspectives of those who have.
I can’t help but hold the Green family in high regards for the decisions made during the production of this game, or how it was even conceived in the first place, or how its bold, intense, vulnerability alongside carefully examined and thought-out use of the video game medium manages to evoke a wide range of emotions. It’s unfathomable to me that “[i]t was the story that began as a miracle and ended as a memorial” and it still manages to remain more than just an outpouring of grief, because Joel Green’s death was more than just a tragedy. At the end of the day, it wasn’t even the story that they wanted to tell. Regardless, they’re choosing to forge their own path forward, and share their experiences with others in hopes that we can become more open about discussing death, or that personal experiences can be more expressively shared through the video game medium and we’re often “all in this together,” or even implementing death as more than just a video game mechanic that serves as a fail state or a trivial means to an end, instead taking a more “death positive” approach that examines death in video games in dealing with its meaning and its consequences. Ryan Green himself asks, “What if videogames are the inception of a medium that will allow us to encode the voices of people who have changed the world... or in my case, a small voice, that changed my whole world?”
In another sense, I was wrong again. I thought That Dragon, Cancer was far too personal, starkly penetrating, and profound for me at first; I originally saw it more or less as a documentary painted with adversity, an unspeakably hard tale captured in a video game space that I would play once, shed my tears, and move on having listened to their story with little to no catharsis. After all, how could one find catharsis in something that is so tragically true? But it was much more than that; the journey of being in someone else’s shoes, living a little of their life through video games capturing an emotional landscape that would otherwise be lost in time and having my expectations played with thoughtfully to impart an array of feelings that otherwise may not have been evoked from a more passive experience... that was the catharsis itself. I will not “score” That Dragon, Cancer or mark this with spoilers in the hopes of talking about this experience more openly and out of respect for the Greens’ story, but let this be known; I could not help but be moved by the earnestness of what was presented to me over the course of two hours. This experience has once again reminded me that emotionally compelling pieces of media have the power to change lives, and while still in their relative infancy in video games, games like That Dragon, Cancer continue to reaffirm my belief that this medium has value and still has so much more to offer. I suppose that’s why I play video games at the end of the day; to feel a range of emotions just like this, and to share my experiences with others in hopes that they will get similar reactions or experiences just like me. Thank you for sharing your story, Ryan & Amy Green, and may Joel Green rest in peace.
Sources used:
That Dragon, Cancer Steam Store Page
Thank You For Playing
That Dragon, Cancer 2016 Game Awards Acceptance Speech
That Dragon, Cancer wins Game Innovation | BAFTA Games Awards 2017
A video game to cope with grief | Amy Green
Curing ideological cancers with video games
Experimental Gameplay Workshop 2015: That Dragon Cancer
That Dragon, Cancer & Purpose
Errant Signal - That Dragon, Cancer
That Dragon, Let’s Play
On Let’s Plays
Turning tragedy into a videogame memorial
"That Dragon, Cancer" Feature Film - "Thank You For Playing" Documentary
E3 13: That Dragon, Cancer Interview
That Dragon, Cancer - A journey with a family dealing with cancer - PAX 2013
Interview With Ryan & Amy Green: Creators Of 'That Dragon, Cancer'
Meet Joel, taking it one day at a time | My Last Days
That Dragon, Cancer: A game for Joel
Tribeca ’15: “That Dragon, Cancer” Q&A with Ryan Green
Interview with Ryan & Amy Green and the Development Team of That Dragon, Cancer
A Father, a Dying Son, and the Quest to Make the Most Profound Videogame Ever
Representation of Death in Independent Videogames: Providing a Space for Meaningful Death Reflection
That Dragon, Cancer—Exploring End of Life Through an Unwinnable Video Game
Five minutes into the game, I'm talking to a guy in the opening area base camp, he's guarding a door or something, then BAM we're in combat
One of my team is immediately killed, then I'm bombarded with tutorial popups (whose text formatting is all fucked up because I set text size to "very large" in a vain attempt to make it easier on the eye)
Another team member goes down, a few more popups, I half wonder if this is a scripted thing so I play along, the remaining two team members die
GAME OVER
Aye, agreed
One of my team is immediately killed, then I'm bombarded with tutorial popups (whose text formatting is all fucked up because I set text size to "very large" in a vain attempt to make it easier on the eye)
Another team member goes down, a few more popups, I half wonder if this is a scripted thing so I play along, the remaining two team members die
GAME OVER
Aye, agreed
First, the good. Priconne's production values are truly great. The character art is excellent, the occasional anime cutscenes look great, the music is actually outstanding, and the game's got full high-quality voice acting. The quality of the writing goes so far to have unique phone notifications for full stamina/guildhouse messages respectively, depending on who you have your favorite character set to. All the characters are cute, quirky, charming, whatever words you use to describe females.
And then there's the bad, or moreso "the reason why I just can't bring myself to keep playing this game". Everything is time-gated in a way that I just cannot stand. If I do all the daily missions for a week and a half straight, my account's level will go up by 1. This increases the level cap of all my characters. To increase the level of your characters, you need an ever-increasing amount of EXP potions, and an ever-increasing amount of mana to increase their skills' levels. Your characters also need equipment, which requires an ever-increasing amount of equipment shards that drop randomly as you watch your in-game stamina get sapped away as you spend tons of skip tickets, because I can't be arsed to actually play the game.
It's all just a vicious cycle that eventually leads to me to abandon the game regularly. Again, I like the characters, enough to keep indulging in their individual stories. But the game is just so unfun after a certain point. I've played other gacha games with much more fulfilling gameplay loops. I'm told that the Japanese version is a lot more generous, to the point of players having more resources than they know what to do with, and frankly, I wish I was playing that version.
I do love Pecorine though. Actual cartoon character. Fount of optimism. I smile every time I see her.
Viewtiful Joe
2003
A 2D beat 'em up about a guy in spandex with film-related time control abilities. Made by the same people who would go on to form Clover Studio and, later on, Platinum.
The gameplay mostly revolves around using your different skills to exploit gaps in enemy attack patterns, particularly slowdown. I guess this gives the game a bit of a movie feeling since battles tend to have a certain flow as a result with the hero valiantly dodging blows left and right and then turning the tides with a well placed counter.
The combat is really good for the most part, and the game is not terribly hard save for a boss rush section near the end that honestly could have tolerated an extra checkpoint. My issues with it are the odd gimmicky sections and that the bosses are a bit boring.
By far, the most memorable aspect about the game has to be the presentation. Viewtiful Joe is a cell-shaded, fast paced, wisecracking, 4th wall breaking, reference packed, over the top series of sequences one after another. It's great.
To conclude, I think the GameCube version is a bit better than the PS2 one and the game is a bit short but, as it's tradition for Japanese action games, you can unlock new psychotic difficulty settings after beating the game once. Also, new characters and stuff.
The gameplay mostly revolves around using your different skills to exploit gaps in enemy attack patterns, particularly slowdown. I guess this gives the game a bit of a movie feeling since battles tend to have a certain flow as a result with the hero valiantly dodging blows left and right and then turning the tides with a well placed counter.
The combat is really good for the most part, and the game is not terribly hard save for a boss rush section near the end that honestly could have tolerated an extra checkpoint. My issues with it are the odd gimmicky sections and that the bosses are a bit boring.
By far, the most memorable aspect about the game has to be the presentation. Viewtiful Joe is a cell-shaded, fast paced, wisecracking, 4th wall breaking, reference packed, over the top series of sequences one after another. It's great.
To conclude, I think the GameCube version is a bit better than the PS2 one and the game is a bit short but, as it's tradition for Japanese action games, you can unlock new psychotic difficulty settings after beating the game once. Also, new characters and stuff.
Reus
2013
A god game based on controlling 4 different giants with unique terraforming abilities, unlike other games in the genre you are meant to play 30 or 60 minute long games instead of developing an enterprise over a long period of time.
The concept has always been very attractive to me, and it's well executed for the most part, the idea is to synergize adjacent tiles for big bonuses and complete projects to unlock new upgrades for your giants.
Overall Reus is a decent game, however I had 3 major issues while playing that prevent me from recommending it unless you can get it during a sale.
1. Progression is tied to achievements and there is no significant RNG otherwise, making the game very repetitive.
2. There is no in-game encyclopedia for resources, and the game relies on an external wiki instead for all the tech trees and what resource grows in each biome and such.
3. The giants are way too slow, especially considering some resources require several of them to obtain.
The concept has always been very attractive to me, and it's well executed for the most part, the idea is to synergize adjacent tiles for big bonuses and complete projects to unlock new upgrades for your giants.
Overall Reus is a decent game, however I had 3 major issues while playing that prevent me from recommending it unless you can get it during a sale.
1. Progression is tied to achievements and there is no significant RNG otherwise, making the game very repetitive.
2. There is no in-game encyclopedia for resources, and the game relies on an external wiki instead for all the tech trees and what resource grows in each biome and such.
3. The giants are way too slow, especially considering some resources require several of them to obtain.
It’s probably one of the best and most generous gacha games. I haven’t played many of them but I did play this religiously. It’s great seeing your favourite characters interact with each other, but honestly, it’s this element that keeps you playing. I’ve decided to move on, hopefully definitively. It was taking too much time playing it, watching videos and reading about it. Not to mention, most of the time is spent on grinding to get to the most difficult content. That content is often designed in a way to incentivise you to use certain characters. It becomes too much to keep up with the meta, afraid of missing out on rewards and the feeling that you need to pay for the basic moogle pass to avoid excessive grinding.
I’m giving it 4 stars to show that it’s the best when it comes to this type of game. If you feel the need to try gacha games, then it’s best to try this one. But ideally, it’s better to not play them at all. I came to the conclusion that I can use all this time to play more quality games that don’t have any predatory elements.
I’m giving it 4 stars to show that it’s the best when it comes to this type of game. If you feel the need to try gacha games, then it’s best to try this one. But ideally, it’s better to not play them at all. I came to the conclusion that I can use all this time to play more quality games that don’t have any predatory elements.
Stuntman: Ignition
2007
Yes, this is a perfect game. I've played this god knows how many times and this latest playthrough just confirmed how elegantly designed and totally original Stuntman is, with Ignition making the formula more accessible whilst still retaining the demand for perfectionism to achieve its highest scores. A host of varied levels and techniques keep you on your toes, whereas the gameplay and precise timing evokes the rhythm genre, except you're playing the car as beautifully as you would an instrument. Every turn, reverse and smash must be orchestrated to the tune or failure is inevitable. It is a formula that is inherently frustrating, but simultaneously utterly perfect. Always will be a favourite.