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Looking back, the promise of Cuphead stretched the three years since its reveal into an eternity. Every year there was a buzzing of how amazing it looked, and a duller hum about whether or not it will live up to the hype. My biggest fear was for this game to be all flash and no fury, but Cuphead doubles down on both departments.
Cuphead is a boss rush run-n-gun platformer, with a few regular platforming levels to boot. Cuphead and Mugman are brothers who gamble away at a casino owned by the devil; an unlucky roll of the dice ends with the duo sent on a trip across Inkwell to collect his debtors’ contracts, or Cuphead and Mugman are cracked china. The entire game is a sight to marvel at; from succumbing to bosses to getting coins in platforming levels to buying upgrades, every element of Cuphead is an audiovisual labor of love.
It’s important to note that style isn’t Cuphead‘s gimmick; it’s Cuphead‘s identity. There’s an undeniable amount of authenticity at play, from the painstakingly hand-animated sprites to the best bebop jazz I’ve heard in years, but it never pushes gameplay to the side. The look and feel of Cuphead work in tandem. The influences the Moldenhauer brothers take from Contra and Gunstar Heroes fit perfectly in the loony isles of Inkwell.
Cuphead, much like its retro influences, is methodically brutal. Every boss is a new puzzle to tackle, new patterns to memorize, new moments for everything to click. It’s a lengthy process but the player feels a sense of progression like sifting mounds of sand to catch a glimpse of a pearl’s glimmer. Every boss has a “simple” and “regular” difficulty setting, but the simple version doesn’t just add or subtract health/damage. The simple versions of bosses are edited for each boss, where some phases are cut and what’s left is simplified just enough to provide a challenge, but one that helps the player ease into what comes next. Using the “easy mode” option as a tutorial rather than a compromise is the smartest way to ease the player into the multifaceted brawls they’ll face.
I don’t think Cuphead wants the player to achieve mastery as fast as possible. Bosses are tense and deeply calculated, but they’re welcoming. I took my time with Cuphead; I played the simple version of every boss before the regular ones, hopping around to different bosses, letting all the patterns and layouts gestate in my mind until I faced the real deal, swinging punches fast and hard. It was a long ride, but it never got stale because of how much rich detail the player can take in. Your brain never has a “oh, THIS again” moment because every second of Cuphead captivates your senses, and not just aesthetically. Boss design in Cuphead is some of the finest I’ve seen in years, where you’ll want to keep your methods in mind and S-rank all of ’em the moment you beat the final boss.
Cuphead wants you to play witty. In a cartoon wonderland of snazzy snark, the player wins by perceiving patterns and humorously outsmarting them. It’s a constant “duck season, rabbit season!” of bullets, bombs, broken cups and boastful taunts that screech to a cathartic halt with the ding of a ringside bell. Games can let us feel like heroes in a traditional sense, but rarely do they let us step into the puffy shoes of cartoon characters that go on their own self-indulgent romps, just for the hell of it. After all, Cuphead and Mugman have hell itself to fight for, and what a damn good fight it is.
Looking back, the promise of Cuphead stretched the three years since its reveal into an eternity. Every year there was a buzzing of how amazing it looked, and a duller hum about whether or not it will live up to the hype. My biggest fear was for this game to be all flash and no fury, but Cuphead doubles down on both departments.
Cuphead is a boss rush run-n-gun platformer, with a few regular platforming levels to boot. Cuphead and Mugman are brothers who gamble away at a casino owned by the devil; an unlucky roll of the dice ends with the duo sent on a trip across Inkwell to collect his debtors’ contracts, or Cuphead and Mugman are cracked china. The entire game is a sight to marvel at; from succumbing to bosses to getting coins in platforming levels to buying upgrades, every element of Cuphead is an audiovisual labor of love.
It’s important to note that style isn’t Cuphead‘s gimmick; it’s Cuphead‘s identity. There’s an undeniable amount of authenticity at play, from the painstakingly hand-animated sprites to the best bebop jazz I’ve heard in years, but it never pushes gameplay to the side. The look and feel of Cuphead work in tandem. The influences the Moldenhauer brothers take from Contra and Gunstar Heroes fit perfectly in the loony isles of Inkwell.
Cuphead, much like its retro influences, is methodically brutal. Every boss is a new puzzle to tackle, new patterns to memorize, new moments for everything to click. It’s a lengthy process but the player feels a sense of progression like sifting mounds of sand to catch a glimpse of a pearl’s glimmer. Every boss has a “simple” and “regular” difficulty setting, but the simple version doesn’t just add or subtract health/damage. The simple versions of bosses are edited for each boss, where some phases are cut and what’s left is simplified just enough to provide a challenge, but one that helps the player ease into what comes next. Using the “easy mode” option as a tutorial rather than a compromise is the smartest way to ease the player into the multifaceted brawls they’ll face.
I don’t think Cuphead wants the player to achieve mastery as fast as possible. Bosses are tense and deeply calculated, but they’re welcoming. I took my time with Cuphead; I played the simple version of every boss before the regular ones, hopping around to different bosses, letting all the patterns and layouts gestate in my mind until I faced the real deal, swinging punches fast and hard. It was a long ride, but it never got stale because of how much rich detail the player can take in. Your brain never has a “oh, THIS again” moment because every second of Cuphead captivates your senses, and not just aesthetically. Boss design in Cuphead is some of the finest I’ve seen in years, where you’ll want to keep your methods in mind and S-rank all of ’em the moment you beat the final boss.
Cuphead wants you to play witty. In a cartoon wonderland of snazzy snark, the player wins by perceiving patterns and humorously outsmarting them. It’s a constant “duck season, rabbit season!” of bullets, bombs, broken cups and boastful taunts that screech to a cathartic halt with the ding of a ringside bell. Games can let us feel like heroes in a traditional sense, but rarely do they let us step into the puffy shoes of cartoon characters that go on their own self-indulgent romps, just for the hell of it. After all, Cuphead and Mugman have hell itself to fight for, and what a damn good fight it is.