Category Archives: review

More Shows Should Be Like Heartcatch Precure

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While I’ve made it fairly clear before that I think very highly of Heartcatch Precure, I realize that I have yet to actually made a post about why I think the show is so good. Today, I will correct that.

From the vibrant and colorful character designs and setting to the energy of the series to the quality of the dialogue, Heartcatch Precure has a lot going for it. But what I think is most remarkable about it is how surprisingly mature the show can be while also still being very much for children.

Since the first Pretty Cure, the central protagonists have always operated on a theme of opposites. One is smart, the other is strong. One is talented in the arts, the other is talented in sports. As the series grew to encompass larger casts, the idea of having the characters be distinctly unique in this manner grew as well, but it’s with Heartcatch Precure that characterization has hit its highest point in the franchise.

When I watched the first episode, the first thing that really caught my attention (aside from the lively animation of the opening) was the interaction between the main characters, Hanasaki Tsubomi (“Cure Blossom”) and Kurumi Erika (“Cure Marine”). Tsubomi is a transfer student, eager to defy her previous reputation as a wallflower. What she doesn’t expect however is for the seat next to her to be occupied by Erika, a fashionable girl who sometimes has trouble with the idea of “personal space.” Erika is well-meaning and is looking to make a new friend, but her aggressive, extroverted personality is too much for the introverted Tsubomi, creating a tension between the two which is only later resolved when they learn more about each other and their own fears and doubts. Tsubomi learns to be a little more confident and out-going from Erika, and Erika is in turn influenced by Tsubomi’s patience and kindness.

In case it wasn’t obvious that Heartcatch Precure is a kids’ show, the Monster of the Week format makes it very clear. Not only is there a Character of the Week that appears and needs helping out, but they are usually transformed into the Monster of the Week as well. The gimmick is that in their monstrous form, the character expresses his or her deepest negative emotions, such as the fears and doubts in their lives. Kids’ shows really don’t operate on subtlety, and the very fact that the show just tells you exactly what is wrong with the character is the very opposite of subtle, but when I take into account the fears themselves I can’t help but be impressed at the level of maturity. Anger at being told that your dream is impossible, frustration at having to grow up too quickly because of a death or illness in the family, depression at letting others down when they need you most, the series does not shy away from presenting some very serious topics. Heck, the very fact that one of the show’s main focuses is the way these negative emotions can exist in a very real way inside all people is in itself surprisingly adult.

When I look at Heartcatch Precure, I see a heart and soul behind the series. Yes, it is still a part of a merciless merchandising machine of a franchise. However,  I can see in the show that the creators desired to make a show for children that tells them, “Someone out there understands your frustration,” and helps them grow in the process. It’s something I can really get behind.

Thoughts on “Bohemian Rhapsody” a la Matsumoto

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Watching the special music video of legendary UK band Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” as interpreted by Galaxy Express 999 and Captain Harlock creator Matsumoto Leiji, a few quick thoughts come to mind.

1) While the original music video is better, that’s because the classic one is just that hard to top. And while this one isn’t exactly mind-blowing, it’s still very well-animated and has that Matsumoto feel we all know and love. It can be kind of confusing at times though, like it’s trying to tell too much with too little and in the wrong format.

2) I like how the “Matsumoto Gauges,” or that staple of Matsumoto anime and manga where a room is filled to the brim with complex gadgetry and meters and such, has been updated to fit in more with current times. It looks much more “digital” now, and reminds me of modern stereo systems. It doesn’t have quite as visceral a feel, but it makes sense.

3) I wonder if this occurs in the same universe as Interstella 5555. Definitely a possibility, but as Daryl Surat would advise, don’t think about this too hard because Matsumotoverse continuity is paper-thin.

4) I picture Matsumoto going to an anime con and entering this in an AMV competition. Would he win? I don’t know, the character designs do look kind of old…

An Ally of Justice, a Subordinate of Evil, a Symbol of the Past and the Future: 2004’s Tetsujin 28

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Yokoyama Mitsuteru’s Tetsujin 28 is one of the landmarks of anime and manga, a classic among classics and a significant influence on the history of comics and animation in Japan. It is widely considered the “father” of the giant robot genre, being the first notable manga to feature a towering humanoid behemoth of steel and jet engines in a heroic role. It rivaled Tezuka’s Tetsuwan Atom in popularity, bringing with it a more base thrill than Tezuka’s stories. One thing Tetsujin 28 did not do, however, was really look at its own contents and try to incorporate them into a greater story, which is where the 2004 anime adaptation of Tetsujin 28 comes in.

Tetsujin 28 2004 was directed by Imagawa Yasuhiro, who is known for his work on shows such as G Gundam and Giant Robo the Animation: The Day the Earth Stood Still. The latter is of particular significance, as Giant Robo is adapted from a manga/live-action show by Tetsujin 28‘s creator Yokoyama, and acts not only as a story of gaining maturity and forging destiny, but also as a tribute to Yokoyama’s works in general. So Imagawa, being no stranger to the works of Yokoyama, approaches this adaptation by putting a subtle, yet profound spin on the story of Tetsujin 28, using in the 21st century what was not available to Yokoyama back when he was creating the original manga: hindsight.

Tetsujin 28 is the titular giant robot of the series, and in the story’s premise it is a product of World War II, a super weapon designed to fight the Allies that finds a new purpose in post-war Japan. Its “master” is 10-year old boy detective Kaneda Shoutarou, the son of Tetsujin’s original creator. With his trusty remote control, Shoutarou uses the iron golem not to wage war, but to protect peace and stop crime. With these essential ideas, that of a weapon of destruction finding a new identity as a guardian of good, and the young boy at its controls, Imagawa transforms Tetsujin 28 into a story about the relationship between the people of post-war Japan and the demons of their past, tying the characters and stories from Tetsujin 28 into actual historical events and paralleling the development of Shoutarou and Tetsujin with the development of Japan.

Though Tetsujin 28 is most certainly a giant robot series, it is not as much of one as you might think. Many times the episodes feel more like detective fiction, and in a great number of instances the antagonists don’t even utilize giant robots. Instead, the recurring theme among the villains in Tetsujin 28 is that they are all relics of World War II and the weapons developments that were going on at the time, ranging from artificial intelligence to hideous disease to genetic manipulation and a host of other mad sciences. Shoutarou must constantly confront the past and the horrors that came from the very same war in which Tetsujin itself was created. That’s not to say that giant robots are out of the question, of course. The series takes Tetsujin’s greatest rival, the Black Ox, and increases its role in the story. This is actually a hallmark of director Imagawa, his interest in fleshing out villains, and he ends up giving a somewhat similar treatment to Ox as he did Baron Ashura in Shin Mazinger.

The strength of the visuals in Tetsujin 28 are perhaps best exemplified by the show’s portrayal of Tetsujin itself. While Tetsujin’s face is completely static, it is still able to convey a sense of mood and emotion by utilizing a technique from the No plays of Japan, where the apparent expressions on No masks change depending on the angle at which they’re seen. Viewed from below or straight on, Tetsujin’s eyes appear large and friendly. From above however, the visor on Tetsujin’s head turns its expression into a vicious glare, a look often enhanced by changing the color of Tetsujin’s eyes from a bright yellow to a menacing red.

The show’s visual direction isn’t all good however. Tetsujin 28 has this odd tendency to use these extremely awkward digital transitions which can really jolt you out of the show. They really do stick out poorly, though it’s my only real complaint in terms of visual direction.

There is a near-constant gravity in the 2004 Tetsujin 28 series, and it can be a lot to take in, especially if you expect the series to be as lighthearted as its source material, and doubly so when you factor in the potential incongruity of the tone of the series and the character designs. Everyone in the show, from Shoutarou to Police Chief Ohtsuka to scoundrel Murasame Kenji are drawn to resemble the original manga’s look, with only slight updates to their designs. The animation looks new, but the characters look very old-fashioned, and Tetsujin 28 thus potentially runs into the same problem that Tezuka’s work does in front of a modern audience. To the show’s credit however, while the character designs are old-fashioned, almost none of them take on the useless slapstick roles that characterized older series. Ohtsuka in particular benefits from this transformation, as his role as police chief is greatly expanded upon and he is shown to have an iron resolve fitting his position. Many other elements from the original series are taken as well, such as the fact that the 10-year old Shoutarou not only drives a car but also carries a loaded gun and isn’t afraid to bust a few heads to reach his goal. Again, it can be a difficult pill to swallow.

Overall though, Tetsujin 28 is a very intelligent show that asks a lot of good questions, and is thoroughly entertaining throughout, though it can get depressing at times given the subject matter. At 26 episodes, it’s a bit of an investment but I think it pays off very well.

Book Off Broadway: Toshiki Okada’s “Enjoy”

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While I am not normally a patron of theatre, my interest was piqued when I heard about Enjoy, a play centered around a manga cafe and the colorful individuals who work at it. Translated by Aya Ogawa and directed by Dan Rothenberg, Enjoy was originally written by Toshiki Okada, a man apparently known for using very “realistic” language in his scripts. After having seen Enjoy, I understand what that really means.

The first big impression I got from the play happened before it even began. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I assumed that the people coming to a play about a manga cafe in Shinjuku would probably be manga fans and otaku eager to see this part of their lives dramatized, so it was a little surprising when I realized that the majority of the audience consisted of roughly middle-aged theatre-goers. It makes sense in hindsight, but I still didn’t expect it. Meanwhile, the stage itself was very close to the front row and probably less than twelve inches away. It was also very bare-bones, being essentially an empty room. That simplicity and proximity would be the first hint at how the play would unfold.

Enjoy is split into four acts, focusing on the various workers at the manga cafe and the ways in which their lives appear to be in stasis. Some of the characters are over 30 and still working part-time. Others are younger employees who seem to define their self-worth relative to those 30+ year olds. The story is told through actors who, while each technically playing different characters, go between talking about themselves in the first person, talking about themselves in the third person, and talking as if they were another character involved in the story, resulting in constant perspective shifts all in the form of expository dialogue. Very much to its credit, however, this is never truly confusing, as it’s less important who on stage is saying what as it is what is being said at all.

The “realism” of the language stems from the fact that every character in the play is incredibly awkward in their own way, and through a combination of acting talent and an effective script are able to really convey that awkwardness in a convincing manner without having it be unintelligible. It strikes a delicate balance that could easily be undone. All of the characters, whether they’re being played by their original actors or being assumed by different actors, are very flawed people whose individual hangups come largely from the active pursuit of uneventful lives. Insecurities abound in areas of work, romance and friendship.

As for the story itself, there isn’t exactly one, at least not in the traditional sense. Enjoy is primarily an exploration of characters, and though you get a clear image of who they are as the play goes on, none of them have any real motivations to move themselves forward. It’s the kind of thing that works ideally as a play and would probably not be so personal as a film in a theater. By having the actors so close to the audience, and having them seem as if they are speaking directly to the audience (without actually acknowledging it), it gives a direct emotional connection that’s hard to replicate without real bodies in a live performance.

Although adapted for English-speaking audiences, Enjoy still sets itself in Japan and uses Japanese names for all of its characters (Kato, Shimizu, etc), even if none of the actors are Asian, as if to say that this story could not be told elsewhere and that the adaptation is mainly in the transformation of the text itself. This makes sense, I think, because the manga cafe for the most part does not exist in the US. However, the play is not so Japanese that it is impenetrable for those unfamiliar with the country or its comics. In fact, Enjoy makes only one reference to any specific manga title, and it comes and goes so quickly that it’s more for flavor than anything else. Moreover, the characters’ idiosyncrasies and doubts about their worth and the way their success in employment (or lack thereof) might define them seems to be especially relevant and universal today.

Truthfully, some of the themes of Enjoy hit a little too close to home, but that’s also the very same reason I consider it a success.

What to Buy, Man? Why, a Mahjong Set of Course!

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The March gathering of the US Professional Mahjong League was possibly the most exciting yet.

For those who don’t know the USPML is devoted to playing Japanese-style mahjong, which is probably best known for the ability to declare a hand as “ready” or “riichi” in order to score extra points and to clearly reveal yourself as the aggressor. While I was without my usual accomplice on this occasion, I was joined by thedigitalbug, who I believe had heard of these mahjong sessions from my previous posts on the subject.

We played two games total, one east + south game and a quick east-only game after that. The first game was quite intense, with people declaring ron and tsumo all over the place, and not a single round ending due to all the tiles being drawn. I was the first to lose points in the match, getting hit for a decent amount, but my fortune was reversed as I managed to win using a high scoring hand which turned the tables of the match and put me in the lead. Actually, at first I thought my hand was worth less than it actually was, misreading my “junchan” (All sets have at least a 1 or 9 in them) hand as the similar and less valuable “chanta” (All sets have at least a 1, 9, or “honor” kanji on them). On top of that, by declaring riichi and winning instantly off of it, my hand’s score increased further. In total, I netted 12,000 points. To give an idea of scale, for these sessions we start with 29,000 points each and games typically use 25,000.

By the final round I was about 17,000 points in the lead, and the other players were scrambling for second place. With such a comfortable lead, I could have very well ended the game by intentionally dealing into another player’s hand, but thanks to a mix of luck, greed, good reading of the game, and even a fortunate accident, I managed to end the game on a very high note.

For this round, I started my hand with two 8-su (bamboo), which was the bonus “dora” tile. If you have seen Akagi, the “dora” tile was the centerpiece in the final battle between young Akagi and the blind player Ichikawa (in that instance it was the pure white “haku” tile). Seeing another 8-su discarded, I called for it, which, while improving my potential score, also limited its freedom by removing the only pair I had in my hand. Having a pair in your hand is a vital part of winning at mahjong, and I could have very well thrown my only opportunity away.

Things were looking good however, especially because I had two of the “south” wind tiles which in sets of three are worth extra, provided you are playing in the south round, or alternately if you’re sitting in the south position. Both of these criteria applied to me at the time so I would score off of both of these if I won. However, when I looked down, I realized my opponent had already discarded a south tile and I had simply failed to notice it. Silently cursing, I waited for the next opportunity, hoping that the last south tile (there are four total in a set) would fly out of someone’s hand. As luck turns out, the same player who had discarded it previously believed it to be a safe tile and decided to toss it out again. Seizing the opportunity, I called for it, and was one step closer to completing my hand. Now the open parts of my hand looked truly threatening, and the other players were surely aware of it.

In the end though, they were unable to stop me, and with a shout of “Ron!” I won off of a player’s discard. My hand ended up being the following:

Toitoiho (All triplets)
Honitsu (Psuedo-flush)
Bakaze (Round wind)
Jikaze (Seat wind)
Dora 3 (3 bonus tiles)

Which all together looks like this:

A demigodly hand

In total, this hand was worth a “Baiman,” or 18,000 points. Winning like this was a rare and wonderful feeling, like I was actually in a mahjong anime and lightning and thunder had come crashing down as I revealed my hand. Actually, I once again did not initially notice just how much the hand was worth, and had to have someone tell me its true value.

What’s funny about this win was that had I paid more attention in the match, I would have probably called on the first discarded south wind tile, which would have then changed the flow of the match considerably. It was possibly my brief lack of concentration which let me win so gloriously.

After some mutual handshakes and a quick break, we started the next game. Here, I did not do so well, scoring dead last, but I did manage to get one good hand in, and I had better concentration than last time. Previously, I had made the mistake of drinking too much soda, which dehydrated me and wore me down and hampered my ability to focus, but this time I went with a non-caffeinated root beer as well as a bottle of water. I still lost, but at least felt alert the whole way through.

I had a great time, as I do every time, and I don’t mean that simply because I won so hard that I accidentally impregnated a woman half-way around the world. It just reminded me that while online mahjong is certainly fun, the direct human element is irreplaceable.

As for the Pringles, they were available once again, but this time I ate them with a pair of chopsticks. Yes, it was rad.

Now It’s Partially for Consistency’s Sake

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Back in 2007 when I first posted about  Mousou Shoujo Otakukei (aka Fujoshi Rumi), I complained about how the price difference between buying the Japanese language version from a Japanese bookstore was nearly at the point where it wasn’t actually worth it. At that point, it was about $8 or $9, very close to the typical $10 price of an English-translated manga.

Now it’s 2010 and six volumes in the problem is bigger than ever. Stopping by Kinokuniya the other day, the price for the current volume is about $10.50, compared to the English releases’ $12 per volume. What makes this sting extra hard is that the death of Asahiya last year means Kinokuniya basically has no competition and can sell its Japanese-language manga whatever price it wishes. Granted there’s Bookoff for low-price manga, but that consists entirely of used books, and I have this strange feeling I’m the only person in New York City buying Mousou Shoujo.

At this point you may be wondering why I’ve stuck with the series even after I said “meh” to its Volume 1, aside from keeping up with the Fujoshi Files. Well, after having read further, I realized that it’s not until Volume 2 that the series and its characters really begin to find their voices. It’s a fun series with nice developments, and I’m eager to see what happens next. Though out of all the fujoshi-themed manga I’ve read so far, I think I like Fujoshissu! best.

Guys We’re Gonna Make America Skinny Again One Poke at a Time

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Hi, it’s Machamp with Cross Chop!

The Pokewalker is diabolical.

So the latest Pokemon game, Heart Gold/Soul Silver comes with a pedometer onto which you can transfer Pokemon and take them for walks. As you take steps, you get points in order to do things like get rare items and catch Pokemon. It’s partially designed to curb piracy, as not only is the Pokewalker something that you can’t really pirate, but the cartridge for the game itself has infrared sensors on it, so just having the rom isn’t enough.

But that’s not why it’s so fiendishly clever. The real and more sinister reason is that it’s going to get kids addicted to walking.

Consider the mentality that brought us “gotta catch ’em all,” the mentality that puts small children on the same wavelength as hardcore World of Warcraft players grinding up to max to open up the real game. Now apply it to light exercise. You could very well have kids just going out for long walks practically every day!

To some extent, it feels like saying, “Hey kids, if you get an A on your test, you can get a LEGENDARY POKEMON,” or, “Hey adults, the only way to defeat this super hidden boss is to FILE YOUR TAXES.”

Really, Wii Fit was a nice try, but it’s no Pokewalker.

Mostly Visual Wonders: Oblivion Island

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The New York International Children’s Film Festival is known for bringing some of the best and most interesting animation the world has to offer to the Big Apple, and Japanese animation is no exception. In previous years, the festival has brought great works, such as The Girl Who Leapt Through Time and Summer Days with Coo, but usually limited it to only one title, so it was particularly amazing that this year’s Festival had not one, not two, but three anime films.

This last film is Production I.G.’s Oblivion Island: Haruka and the Magic Mirror. It follows the titular 16-year old girl as she searches for her lost hand mirror, an important present she received from her mother years ago, and ends up entering a magical world inhabited by “kitsune,” fox spirits who take everything humans misplace and ignore. Humans are not allowed in the kitsune’s world, but a few unlikely companions make the journey possible.

Unlike the other two NYICFF animated films from Japan, which used some CG but still went for a primarily traditional 2D look, Oblivion Island has the unique distinction of being created almost entirely in 3DCG. While it would be easy to make the film look drab and lifeless, Production I.G. is famous for knowing how to make things look good, and Oblivion Island is no exception. The characters are nice-looking and full of life, the backgrounds are gorgeous, and the use of color as the movie switches from environment to environment are particularly notable. One unusual thing about the movie is that a lot of the backgrounds looked more hand-drawn and two-dimensional than the characters themselves, which made it almost look like the characters were “real people” interacting with a backdrop. While jarring to an extent, it gave the film a unique and welcome look. The only other sticking point might be that the faces of the human characters are somewhere between being anime-style and being humanly realistic, particularly with their mouths, and so tread the deepest regions of the uncanny valley. Overall, the look of the film, particularly the Kitsune’s world where everything is built from discarded human belongings, reminded me a little of Kon Satoshi’s Paprika, though it isn’t quite as visually splendid.

But while the visual aesthetics of the film are top-notch, the rest of the film from a storytelling perspective is nowhere near as good. Most of the characters’ motivations are simple and some hardly get characterized at all. The story is also paper-thin, developments happen too suddenly, and the film occasionally takes a very ham-fisted approach to plot exposition. An example of this heavy-handed storytelling occurs towards the beginning of the movie. The start of the film takes place years before the main story and shows Haruka with her mirror. Minutes later into the film, the now 16-year old Haruka is hanging with her friend from school and asks the friend if she had ever lost anything important to her. It then flashes back to the very scene the audience just saw of Haruka and her mirror, and if that’s not enough to tell you that she’s thinking about the mirror, Haruka then outright mentions the mirror to her friend. It was just unnecessarily excessive and would’ve benefited from better editing.

That said, Oblivion Island still has a number of good, powerful scenes  and moments of poignant character interaction and introspection which draw you into their world. It’s just that the film suffers from “things happen” syndrome and lacks the connective tissue needed to make it feel like one continuous story. It’s an all enjoyable film, but definitely had the potential to be more.

In the end, a lot of the film’s flaws can be pardoned if you just take into account that it is first and foremost a kid’s movie, but at the same time I feel somewhat reluctant to do so as the NYICFF’s other films were also for kids and still had plenty for older audiences and never felt like they were simply advancing the plot along without taking heed of everything that had happened prior. Overall, it’s decent, but it won’t go down in history as one of my favorites.

It’s Easy If You Try: Mai Mai Miracle

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If there is anyone to hold responsible for this review of Mai Mai Miracle, it is Japanese blogger tamagomago.

A blogger of anime and manga with a very keen sense of observation, lots of intelligence to spare, and a fount of good ideas, my first real experience with tamagomago was when I translated his essay on the concept of “Otaku Girl Moe.” Since that time, both of us had come into possession of Twitter accounts, and so it was only natural for me to begin following him.

Around late November, early December of last year, I began to notice that, in the vast majority of them (I would say over 90% or so), tamagomago would consistently mention the same thing: Mai Mai Shinko. He would preface his tweets with マイマイ新子妄想, or “Mai Mai Shinko Delusion,” and it was clear that whatever this was, it was quite a big deal to have captured his imagination so. My curiosity was piqued, and after finding out that it was actually a movie he was talking about, I hoped for the day that I too could see it. So when the New York International Children’s Film Festival brought the film over, I felt very fortunate.

Known in Japan as Mai Mai Shinko and the Millennium Magic, it was titled in the US as Mai Mai Miracle (and for the purposes of this review I will be going with the English title). Not knowing what to expect, I went into the theater and came out pleasantly surprised.

Mai Mai Miracle takes place a few years after World War II in Japan and follows a young girl named Aoki Shinko, whose primary characteristics are an untameable tuft of hair and boundless creativity. Shinko’s daily life is changed when she befriends a lonesome new girl in town, Shimazu Kiiko, and shows the quiet and demure Kiiko how to live life to its fullest armed with only two feet and a head full of imagination, while also connecting to her town’s storied history which stretches back a thousand years.

When I say that Mai Mai Miracle is a pleasant surprise, the operative word here is “pleasant.” It has an everyday atmosphere that can only be described as such, and the film, down to its core, exudes a sense of serenity that cannot be escaped even during the movie’s unhappier moments. The story has a clearly intentional meandering quality. There is no real overarching narrative which reveals itself over time, and Shinko’s goals, as much as she focuses on them, shift quite frequently along with her imagination and feelings. One might even say that the movie lacks an “orthodox” cinematic structure, and yet the movie never feels like it’s leading the viewer to a dead end, even when it’s not actually clear what direction it’s taking. Mai Mai Miracle is like a series of vignettes connected by the thread that is Shinko’s daily life and how it is affected by her newfound friendship with Kiiko.

Mai Mai Miracle has many strengths, but chief among them is the characters. This is especially the case for Shinko and Kiiko, but every person in the story, no matter how much or how little screen time they get, feels incredibly human. Some characters get barely touched on, but you can tell that they are going through their own personal adventures and struggles just as Kiiko has in moving to a new town.

The animation in Mai Mai Miracle is very vibrant and fun, though for the most part it doesn’t go for any wild experiments in moving images and keeps everything very traditional. One exception however,  takes place in the early parts of the film, when Shinko is imagining the world of a thousand years ago. Here, crude, crayon-like drawings of houses, animals, and other objects begin to pop up all over the landscape and transform into their “real” counterparts, symbolizing the strength of Shinko’s childhood imagination. But by the latter half of the movie, the technique disappears entirely and we never see that transition again. Most likely the creators thought that doing it in the beginning was enough to imply that it was happening all the time, but I still kind of wish that we saw more usage of creative and abstract techniques, even if it wasn’t this one in particular.

I think Mai Mai Miracle will draw inevitable comparisons to the works of Studio Ghibli, particularly My Neighbor Totoro with its similar themes of moving to a new home and the strength and wonder of imagination, but Mai Mai Miracle can certainly stand up to the scrutiny. It’s a pleasant experience that I would recommend to anyone who enjoys the simple wonders of life and youth.

It’s Okay to Propagate the Idea that “Otaku Girls” are Moe, But…: The Aggression and Difficulty Inherent in Moe

10 Will Get You 10: Megaman 10

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Highly anticipating its arrival, I was quick to nab the newly-released Megaman 10 off of WiiWare. After some hard-fought battles, I have emerged victorious and I am now here to tell my tale and give what the fleshnoids call “impressions.”

Just like its immediate predecessor, the 10th game in the classic series is a retro remake, resembling the 8-bit, pixelated style that was once necessitated by technology limitations of the NES era but now exists as a stylistic choice. The wait between games wasn’t nearly as long as the period between games 8 and 9 (which is even longer if you’re counting from the last NES release, 6), so its arrival isn’t quite as impactful, but a welcome addition nonetheless.

What can be said about Megaman 10? Well it’s frustrating, for one, but you already knew that. So did Capcom. That’s why they put in an Easy Mode. But my foolish pride would not let me play Easy Mode, though it was still weak enough to make me succumb to purchasing Energy Tanks to make the trip through the game less aggravating at certain points.

One interesting feature of 10 is the range of playable characters available. Megaman of course is there, and this time Protoman is available from the start instead of being a $2 download. Megaman can’t slide or charge his shots, but has more health than Protoman who can use those techniques, who also sports a new, larger shield than in the previous game. Not content to let the whole “paid downloadable content” thing go, they’re providing a third character in the form of Megaman’s Dr. Wily-created rival, Bass. The angry, villainous Megaman counterpart apparently has the ability to rapid-fire in seven directions, and will be available for purchase on April 5th, 2010. It should be noted that this is the first time that Bass has made a full appearance in 8-bit form, and I must say that his design doesn’t exactly translate well to the NES graphics, especially because he was designed in the SNES era, possibly to take advantage of the technology of the time.

Speaking of which, Bass isn’t the only character to get a retro “downgrade,” but I won’t say anymore.

Megaman 10 bears a lot of resemblance to Megaman 9 in terms of the way stages are laid out, which I think is both a good and a bad thing when compared to the original NES games. In the original games, stages were a series of hazards that came one after the other, getting more difficult along the way overall, but still providing the occasional run-and-gun moments. The recent remakes however, but especially 10, treat the level as almost a puzzle of sorts, where it introduces a basic gameplay concept earlier in the stage and then has you use it later. This is a welcome sophistication which would be all good except that the game is poor at giving moments of respite to you the player.

Let’s look back at (almost) everyone’s favorite, Megaman 2, particularly the Crashman level. The stage is well-designed, but it has no real “gimmicks” to it, and there’s not much danger of falling down a deadly pit. It’s mostly an empty stage but it’s still fun. Compare that to any of the levels in 10, which will consist of tons of enemies attacking, crazy traps, and other such obstacles, and 10 stands as a more exhausting game overall. Again, still fun though.

If you’re really masochistic, there’s a Hard Mode once you beat the game on Normal. I’d personally avoid it, but I hear that the bosses get new attacks in Hard Mode, so I’m highly tempted to work my way through it.

Speaking of the bosses, all of whom can be seen here, I consider them successes on both a gameplay and design level. The bosses are difficult opponents, some significantly moreso than others, but none of them seem outright unfair. Each of them has an effective strategy that can be broken down (or at least worn out via attrition, i.e. Energy Tanks), but it takes time to learn their patterns and tendencies. Some Robot Masters, such as Blademan, primarily fight by reacting to Megaman’s movements, while others such as Pumpman kind of do their own thing. What’s also a nice touch is that having the Robot Master’s weakness isn’t always enough; you have to know how to use it as well. For example, the boss weak to Commandoman’s Commando Bomb is not weak to the projectile itself, but the shockwaves it generates on impact, and in defeating Nitroman with the proper weapon you have to exploit his motorcycle form. It’s a really nice touch, I think. Better yet, once you engage each boss in battle, you get the ability to face them over and over again in the new “Challenge Mode.” As someone who loves bosses in video games but especially Megaman, this is a dream come true.

As for the visual design of the Robot Masters, I think they make perfect sense when you realize that they’re not designed to be Dr. Wily’s minions but rather just random robots that went berserk because of a virus. They’re mostly non-threatening because they’re supposed to seem harmless. Even the most dangerous-looking ones, Blademan and Commandoman, are a museum robot and a minesweeper, respectively.

9 has catchier tunes and better aesthetics overall I think, but Megaman 10 is overall a very fun game and no slouch in those categories either. It’s less difficult than its prequel in certain respects but also much more difficult than others. Again, it’s not quite as big a deal as 9, but it’s got that classic crisp Blue Bomber action, and the ability to fight just the bosses is a very welcome addition, in my opinion making Megaman 10 very much worth the $10, even if it makes you want to punch someone every-so-often.