NO SPOILERS
I had a Korean history professor who used to say a phrase: “Take a look at any Korean dish and you’ll see quickly that Koreans love to mix things.” She would make a violent stirring motion with her hands as she said this, absurd and delightful. As I played Lies of P, a debut single player title out of a previously unknown studio in South Korea, I can’t help but remember this anecdote. The game fan-dubbed as Bloodborne Pinocchio has clearly been crafted by mixing many identifiable yet incongruous ingredients. Such a concoction can be quite dangerous if not approached with insight and honesty, the two qualities the inspirational materials respectively vow to teach. Despite the dangers, Lies of P is the gamic equivalent of an exquisite plate of bibimbap made by a chef who understands every ingredient down to a tee.
With the prevalence of “souls-likes,” we find ourselves at a bit of a Turing Test of whether a game feels like it could have been made by Hidetaka Miyazaki and the FromSoft team or not. Perhaps the greatest risk of mimicking a generational masterpiece is that even a decent element feels like it falls short by comparison. For example, Lies of P’s story is suitably engaging and I found myself charmed with the variety of characters, but I can’t say that it had me enraptured in the way Bloodborne’s Lovecraftian lore did. Many of the (typically Western) games fail the Turing Test due to approaching the design problem without honesty and humility. They see a game like Dark Souls or Bloodborne, and although they have identified the apparent quality, are already racing to think of ways to improve it before understanding it. Haphazardly washing the careful balance with ill-fitting Western design tendencies results in something akin to tempura served in a cheeseburger.
I was afraid Lies of P would resemble its’ protagonist – a puppet with a hollow center, desperate to impress paternal inspirations, who can’t help but fall into derivative dishonesty – but thankfully, Lies of P stands out and passes the test with flying colors. The game is quite linear in a macro sense, associating it most closely to Dark Souls 3, but the individual areas have a variety of branching paths and looping, vertical structures. Where it surpasses the standard, however, is with a stellar combat engine. Lies of P takes the deflection-driven combat of Sekiro and merges it with the bloodthirsty trades of Bloodborne, resulting in a child that miraculously exceeds both parents. Pinocchio can choose to block an incoming hit and retain half the damage as retrievable gray health, dodge the hit entirely, or time a risky perfect block that whittles down enemy posture. An enemy with fully depleted posture can be hit with a charged heavy attack to deal massive damage, the equivalent of visceral attacks in Bloodborne. This marriage of disparate game designs turns Lies of P into a furious dance where every single enemy move becomes an interesting choice. As I run from one Gothic-themed level to the next, the moment to moment game design demonstrates careful and precise balance. More than anything, it highlights the developers’ understanding of both their own game and the games they take inspiration from.
Although he would be rushed out after 30 seconds by Geoff Keighley, I imagine that if Lies of P director Choi Ji Won was given an opportunity to accept an award, it would look very similar to Bong Joon Ho’s acceptance for Parasite in 2020. A beautiful expression of humility and gratitude to the masters of the medium. Indeed, the humility of the project is the greatest strength. Lies of P does not look to fix FromSoft, but to understand and refine their formula. This is a trait I deeply respect from these Korean developers and wonder if my American peers could ever look past their own hubris to replicate.
I can’t lie: in some part, I am biased for this cutesy-grimdark aesthetic. I wait with bated breath for their upcoming Alice in Wonderland-themed project.
I had a Korean history professor who used to say a phrase: “Take a look at any Korean dish and you’ll see quickly that Koreans love to mix things.” She would make a violent stirring motion with her hands as she said this, absurd and delightful. As I played Lies of P, a debut single player title out of a previously unknown studio in South Korea, I can’t help but remember this anecdote. The game fan-dubbed as Bloodborne Pinocchio has clearly been crafted by mixing many identifiable yet incongruous ingredients. Such a concoction can be quite dangerous if not approached with insight and honesty, the two qualities the inspirational materials respectively vow to teach. Despite the dangers, Lies of P is the gamic equivalent of an exquisite plate of bibimbap made by a chef who understands every ingredient down to a tee.
With the prevalence of “souls-likes,” we find ourselves at a bit of a Turing Test of whether a game feels like it could have been made by Hidetaka Miyazaki and the FromSoft team or not. Perhaps the greatest risk of mimicking a generational masterpiece is that even a decent element feels like it falls short by comparison. For example, Lies of P’s story is suitably engaging and I found myself charmed with the variety of characters, but I can’t say that it had me enraptured in the way Bloodborne’s Lovecraftian lore did. Many of the (typically Western) games fail the Turing Test due to approaching the design problem without honesty and humility. They see a game like Dark Souls or Bloodborne, and although they have identified the apparent quality, are already racing to think of ways to improve it before understanding it. Haphazardly washing the careful balance with ill-fitting Western design tendencies results in something akin to tempura served in a cheeseburger.
I was afraid Lies of P would resemble its’ protagonist – a puppet with a hollow center, desperate to impress paternal inspirations, who can’t help but fall into derivative dishonesty – but thankfully, Lies of P stands out and passes the test with flying colors. The game is quite linear in a macro sense, associating it most closely to Dark Souls 3, but the individual areas have a variety of branching paths and looping, vertical structures. Where it surpasses the standard, however, is with a stellar combat engine. Lies of P takes the deflection-driven combat of Sekiro and merges it with the bloodthirsty trades of Bloodborne, resulting in a child that miraculously exceeds both parents. Pinocchio can choose to block an incoming hit and retain half the damage as retrievable gray health, dodge the hit entirely, or time a risky perfect block that whittles down enemy posture. An enemy with fully depleted posture can be hit with a charged heavy attack to deal massive damage, the equivalent of visceral attacks in Bloodborne. This marriage of disparate game designs turns Lies of P into a furious dance where every single enemy move becomes an interesting choice. As I run from one Gothic-themed level to the next, the moment to moment game design demonstrates careful and precise balance. More than anything, it highlights the developers’ understanding of both their own game and the games they take inspiration from.
Although he would be rushed out after 30 seconds by Geoff Keighley, I imagine that if Lies of P director Choi Ji Won was given an opportunity to accept an award, it would look very similar to Bong Joon Ho’s acceptance for Parasite in 2020. A beautiful expression of humility and gratitude to the masters of the medium. Indeed, the humility of the project is the greatest strength. Lies of P does not look to fix FromSoft, but to understand and refine their formula. This is a trait I deeply respect from these Korean developers and wonder if my American peers could ever look past their own hubris to replicate.
I can’t lie: in some part, I am biased for this cutesy-grimdark aesthetic. I wait with bated breath for their upcoming Alice in Wonderland-themed project.