Previously on
Cross-Up…
“Sometimes I wonder if I’m a hypocrite. And then I remember that I am, so I go about
my business. But then I remember that I
brought up that point for the sake of a blog post, so I guess I’d better go
into detail.”
Okay. So in
the last post, I mentioned that I tend to have a bad reaction whenever the Game
Grumps go back to the NES/SNES well -- playing 2D platformers and such on an
extremely regular basis. It’s true that
they can get a lot out of them comedy-wise
that I appreciate, but then I remember how much fun it was for me (and the
Grumps, I bet) for Dan to experience Shadow
of the Colossus for the first time.
I suppose there’s always Steam Train -- or failing that, the Best
Friends Zaibatsu -- to offer up something fresh, but it still leaves me wary.
Except
when they play something like Donkey Kong
Country Returns: Tropical Freeze. I
wanted to stand up and cheer when they started a playthrough on that…which is
ass-backwards, considering that it’s pretty much just a 2D platformer that just
happens to look amazing. So that pretty
much means I’m a hypocrite, right? Like,
I just want the Grumps to play the games I
like, and what I want to
see? That’s the impression I’m getting,
unfair as it may be to some of the funniest guys online.
In my defense?
There’s a reason why I want
them, and everyone, to play Tropical
Freeze.
So here’s the setup. DK and pals -- Diddy, Dixie, and Cranky --
are all about ready to get their party in full swing (ha) complete with a
banana cake-type thing. But before DK
can dig in, their island is invaded by the Snowmads -- a bunch of Viking-style
baddies out to seize the island for themselves.
And before DK can even take the first swing, that’s exactly what they
do; their boss uses his giant horn to plunge the island into a new ice age, and
exile the Kongs from the Snowmads’ new home.
Now DK and the gang have to take back what’s theirs -- one jump, roll,
and barrel toss at a time.
You’d be forgiven for thinking that Tropical Freeze is the same game as the
Wii’s DKC Returns, because they’re
pretty much mechanically the same, have the same teams behind them (the same music
guy especially), have the same general style, and have the same
progression. They didn’t even bother
with the GamePad, so unless you do some off-TV play then the screen will go
dark. And even if the game looks better
than its predecessor, it still follows the guideline spread out -- i.e. be
pretty much the old DKC games, only
with better graphics.
Behold! I
give you…PROGRESS!
Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...huh.
Despite there being four playable Kongs, only two
players can play at once (this is no Super
Mario 3D World, as I’ve said before).
On top of that, Player One can ONLY be DK, while P2 can ONLY be one of
the other Kongs -- unless you and a partner switch pads, of course. It’s a strange choice, to be sure, but far
from the only one in this game. More on
that in a bit.
As is usually the case, the object of each level
is to head from the start to the goal -- in this case a floating barrel -- with
as many lives intact as your skills will allow.
So if you want to be a little salty, you can pare Tropical Freeze right down to the basics and leave it at that. But even if I made it sound like an issue at
the start, it really isn’t when you get down to it. TF isn’t
just aping (ha) platformers to win nostalgia-bred favor, like Shovel Knight before it -- or after it,
given that SK came later. No, they’re doing their best to evolve the genre, not let it
stagnate.
In the same sense that (Ultra) Street Fighter 4 isn’t
the same game as (any given version of) Street
Fighter 2, TF is not JUST DKC with better graphics. So really, it’s hard to heap hate on a genre
as long as it’s creating a sense of progression; it’s either that, or each individual game’s execution is
so high that it doesn’t make you think about the nitty-gritty. And remember, this is coming from a guy who
did a string of posts on modern-day shooters, and in the weeks since I can
barely see what separates the majority of them apart. It doesn’t help that almost all of them have
the universal ability to make me so pissed off I could bake a ham just by
setting it on my forehead.
What I like about TF -- and I’m certain I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again --
is just how involved the levels are in the experience. It’s pretty much a given that most of the
dangers you’ll face come from bottomless pits, so making your jumps count is
more than a little important. But the
game is constantly tossing in these variations on the formula, so you have to
adapt. And more often than not, you have
to adapt quickly. Thunderstorms, factory machines, massive
persimmons, fires, and even giant octopi are threats you’ll have to deal with
along the way, complicating each leap over a bottomless pit.
But the thing about the levels is that it makes
better use of spectacle than most spectacle-driven games. Example: I played a bit of The Evil Within a while back, and there
was a sequence where you had to run down a hallway to escape blades of
doom. The music swelled, the camera
shook, the scenery was all kinds of uninviting, and…I barely felt the fear the
game wanted me to. Why? It’s because all I had to do was walk down a
hallway. Hardly engaging stuff. Comparatively, TF has you engaging in the platforming -- interacting with a level
changing before your eyes -- while the sequence-based threat approaches
you. So basically, you’re facing certain
death as you face certain death.
It’s stuff like that -- and more, all things
considered -- that makes the classic platformer still have worth in the modern
gaming world. Between TF and SK, I’ve had more scares and heart-stopping moments in those than
in The Evil Within, The Last of Us,
Resident Evil 5 (and 6, but it
goes without saying), and so little of Dead
Space that I had to be reminded I even played it put together. I’m involved
in what’s going on! I can actually die
because of my lack of skill! Cool stuff
is actually happening besides “run from point A to point B”! And the levels look so freakin’ good! And the music is just so
NGHNNNGFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF --
Ahem.
Moving through them safely is also pretty freakin’ important, so it’s probably best to learn your
options before the end of the first world.
You’ve got your basic run and jump, but learning how to roll into a run
-- and by extension long jump -- will seriously help you out in a pinch. Or ensure your doom, potentially. But the interesting thing about TF (and something that feeds into its
fear-inspiring ability) is that DK’s movement is structured in such a way that
sometimes you just barely feel like you made it onto a ledge. All things considered, it kind of makes
sense; I don’t know much about gorillas, but I don’t imagine them being the
most agile of creatures.
The core conceit -- the reason for DK’s
less-than-mobile nature -- is because the player is supposed to make use of the
other Kongs to bolster his movement, via letting one ride on his back. Think of it as a sort of Kong-gattai, if you
will. Join with Diddy, and you can use
his jetpack to go farther. Join with
Dixie, and you can use her ponytail to go higher. Join with Cranky, and you can bounce off
obstacles and enemies. (I…wouldn’t
recommend playing with Cranky as your partner.)
Having a gattai partner certainly makes things easier on you -- because
you also get a screen-clearing super move -- but the tradeoff is that if you’re
not careful, you lose your extra Kong and
the extra mobility it affords.
It’s incentivized gameplay. If you can hold onto a Kong, you’ve proven
that you’re good enough to handle the game -- and because of it, get to
progress more easily and quickly. If you
can’t hold onto a Kong, then you can
still make it through the game, but you’ll have to learn how to make it through
levels without a crutch. (Kong barrels
are a surprisingly-limited resource.)
That’s an interesting mechanic for a single player, but for two? I’m not entirely sold. The only advantage I can possibly think of
that DK might have over the others is that his roll maybe goes farther. So
basically, you run the risk of having one player “crippled” -- and by
extension, one player constantly yammering about how DK is so bad.
But maybe that’s the point.
Far be it from me to promote antisocial behavior,
but hear me out on this. Yes, TF is 100% playable and beatable with
two players, so you don’t have to worry about some unfair advantage -- just the
usual concerns about who’s pulling the team and who isn’t. But for a while now I’ve been thinking that
there’s a disadvantage to playing every game with friends, and by extension
making every game based on/around multiplayer.
Admit it: you experience things differently with
friends than you do on your own.
Watching Twilight by
yourself? A miserable, headache-inducing
experience. Watching Twilight with friends? Guaranteed to bring on the laughs. But that doesn’t make Twilight good (and by extension doesn’t make multiplayer games --
hello, Destiny -- inherently fun).
What I’m getting at here is that sometimes you
need to experience certain things on your own -- without anyone or anything to
color your perceptions. Think about it
-- don’t you think there’s a reason why movie theaters put you in the dark,
promote relative silence from the audience, and are extremely against cell phone use during the movie?
It’s because even if you are with friends/family,
the setup is such that you get to engage with the movie on a solo, personal
level. You get to observe its subtleties
in a way you might not with a bunch of jokers.
Granted, that means that the product in question has to hold up to
scrutiny.
And you know what?
TF does -- because it tells a
story without even telling a story.
Warning: headcanon imminent.
It goes without saying, but the draw of TF comes from its levels -- the visuals,
aesthetics, layout, music, what have you.
(Especially the music, in a lot of cases; some
of the music from the Africa-themed world will practically staple a smile
to your face.) I don’t think there’s a
single line of dialogue spoken outright in this game -- which you’d expect,
considering that every character here is an animal -- and outside of the opening
and ending cutscenes there’s little in the way of a straight narrative. If you’re looking for a little weight, you’ll
have to fill in the story for yourself.
You’ll have to make use of what the game DOES provide in order to get
more out of TF than just “this is a
fun game”. And I’m wholly convinced you
can do that.
The thing separates TF from say, Super Mario 3D
World is that Mario’s latest adventure pretty much requires exploration in
order to advance through the game -- but paradoxically, it can feel like you’re
punished for doing so. Don’t get me
wrong; I’m not devaluing 3D World
just because DK’s latest is in our midst.
I’m just saying that the two games are out to accomplish different
things, and I prefer one approach over the other. 3D
World runs the risk of trivializing its worlds because the players are only
looking through it to find Green Stars; couple that with a persistent timer,
and you can’t digest each level -- and the world at large -- as much as you’d
hope. That’s a shame, because 3D World ALSO looks pretty freakin’
good.
When you’re not being chased by an incoming wall
of lava (or dealing with threats similar to it), you get to take in TF at a more leisurely pace. You actually do get to digest it -- enjoy its elements as deeply or as
superficially as you wish. Okay, sure,
you’re incentivized to have a look around to find puzzle pieces, but A) that’s
for unlockable art, and B) it’s not required.
The KONG letters are there too, but they’re less about scouring every
inch of the level and more about testing your abilities -- asking if you’ve got
the skills (and the guts) to grab them in the middle of your run. There’s a difference. The line blurs at times, yes, but there is a
line; TF wants you to feel the world,
not just conquer it. The question is, why?
Well, let’s step back a bit. See, the thing that I can’t help but come
back to again and again is the Kong-gattai mechanic. That was put in there for a reason, as
antithetical it may seem to modern-day sensibilities. You have
to play as DK. You aren’t guaranteed to have a buddy Kong with you
to make things easier. You can -- and likely should -- take control
away from Player Two so that Player One can have a slightly better time. Why?
Those are some very specific design choices; they can’t possibly be an
accident, or the result of running out of time.
They can’t be.
Because they aren’t. Because this is Donkey Kong’s story.
Danger: incoming headcanon. Evacuate immediately.
It should come as no surprise to anyone that DK is
the star of the game. Setting aside the
fact that his name is in the title and on the cover of the box, he’s also the
largest of the Kongs by a wide margin.
The apes may have clothes, shelter, and some of the fixings of modern
society (and beyond, considering that Diddy has a working jetpack), but it’s
safe to assume they still operate under basic rules. The chief rule? The biggest and strongest ape gets to lead
the pack. So all things considered, that
means either Funky Kong is in charge, or DK is.
Three guesses as to who’s the one true King of Swing.
The alternative theory I have -- absurd as it may
be -- is that DK rules because he’s inherited the power from his ancestral Kong
kings. To be more specific, he rules
because he can’t die in a conventional sense.
Sure, if he falls down a pit in the game he’ll lose a life, but what
does that mean contextually? You lose a
balloon and go back a few paces, and get to do it again and again until you get
it right. DK may die, but he’ll just be
reborn so that he can learn from his past mistakes and rectify them. In other words, being the king means being
trapped in a cycle of death and rebirth -- a cruel fate, but one that bestows
great knowledge to a rightful ruler. And
as the saying goes…
I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t buy into my
theory of DK being trapped in some metaphysical ouroboros, because even I think
I’m reaching farther than Mr. Fantastic playing a game of pin the tail on the
donkey. But even if there’s no direct
cycle of rebirth, I’d still argue there’s a symbolic one -- or more precisely,
a cycle of injustice and justice. Redemption
of crimes through crimes, and
justifying past crimes. In simplest
terms, the rules of nature weave their way through the game, ensuring a
never-ending conflict between the Kongs and any other takers in their universe.
Consider the Snowmads. At first glance, they’re just a bunch of
bullies and bad guys out to muscle in on Kong territory. And while that’s more or less true, when
viewed with a broader scope they’re only doing what they need to for their survival. They need food. They need shelter. They need a place to call home. And what better place to set up shop than an
island brimming with resources? They
have to do a little remodeling, sure, but the tradeoff is that it’s almost as
simple as tooting a horn.
(Jeez, is there any instrument more hilarious than
the trombone?)
What’s consistently bothered me about TF -- and I suppose the other DKC games, by extension -- is a certain
question: where the hell did all the machines and vehicles come from? Seriously, there are pirate ships all over
the place (and not all of them from the Snowmads, I’d bet, but more on that in
a minute), fruit processing plants, miles’ worth of mine cart tracks, and at
least one full-on, fully-functional factory.
And let’s not forget Funky sets up shop in a series of downed airplanes. So did the Kongs make all of this stuff? I’d like to say yes, but that just begs the
question of why they live the way they do -- in treehouses and such -- instead
of in towering, industrialized cities of their own creation.
My theory on the subject is this: the Kongs aren’t
the first ones to inhabit that island, or the islands (i.e. most of the levels
in TF) surrounding the main one. Rather, the chain of them collectively
represents a territory fought over for generations, and occupied by different
creatures/cultures. The wars of old
simply left the islands mostly uninhabited, with all the machines and
mechanisms left to decay, and the land itself forcibly uncultivated. Only a few pockets of resistance remain -- a
porcupine here, a bird there -- and the Snowmads are trying to capitalize on
that. They’re trying to systematically
occupy all of those islands to harvest the remnants of the past -- the things
that DK has forgotten are of incredible importance.
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Remember how I said earlier how the only one who
could have been king was either DK or Funky?
Well, my theory is that Funky willingly stepped away from the throne --
and the fight that could have ensued -- so he could devote himself to
archaeological pursuits. He’s an ape
devoted to uncovering the mysteries of the past, even if that means putting him
at odds with DK. (That’d probably help
explain why he charges you for supplies; behind that smile lays a wellspring of
resentment.) The King of Swing lives for
the moment, with only the slightest care for the future. Content with a life of banana-themed cakes
and eternal summer weather, he’s more than willing to let his brethren Kongs
live as they see fit.
The Snowmads change all of that. The exiled king and his closest friends have
to fight their way back to their stolen peak, with the fate of the other Kongs
up in the air. (It’s true that there’s
not enough evidence to say anything conclusive about their state of affairs; on
the other hand, there’s at least one level featuring a raging avalanche, so
draw your own conclusions.) They know
about the resources left practically untouched by the Kongs, and are more than
willing to use it in their stead; because of that, you tend to see penguins,
walruses, and other wintry foes making their rounds through each level. Of course, they’re after more than just a few
whirring gizmos.
It’s worth noting that there are secret exits in
some of the game’s levels, marked not by a floating barrel but instead by a
swirling portal of light. On top of
that, there are special trinkets you can find and collect to unlock a bonus
world, just in case you aren’t satisfied with the beating the game gives you on
a regular basis. The important thing is
that the history of these islands is multi-layered -- and below the
technological layer that we can obviously spot, and below the evidence of travelers
who set up shop, there’s a layer that implies some sort of precursor race.
That is, there was an ancient civilization that
used a magic variant of technology to construct ruins, temples, and more. I’d bet that that’s what Funky is after, even
if you never see him leave his shop(s); by extension, the Snowmads might be
eager to harvest those secrets for themselves, if only for the sake of saying
“Ha ha, it’s mine now!”
DK may be strong and (ostensibly) kind, but he’s
still something of a slothful leader.
He’s grown lax on his throne, and the Snowmad invasion has forced him to
remember what it means to be a King of Swing.
There’s no doubt that he’s got the power to face the future, but he
doesn’t have the wisdom gained from observing the past -- from the ancient,
bloody struggles of his forebears. He
may have secured the island from threats past (there’s probably a reason why
the recent games have to keep making new enemies, and for more than legal
issues), but he has yet to learn firsthand what it means to know true
hardship. That is, until the events of
this game.
Even if you don’t believe in (or care about) the
worldly struggles of the Kongs, there’s still plenty of weight in the implied
personal struggle. Consider this: Diddy,
Dixie, and Cranky have to rely on DK to see them through plenty of struggles,
up to and including riding on his back.
He gives them power -- via their screen-clearing attack -- and they in
turn give their liege increased mobility.
So on a practical level, the Kongs draw strength from one another so
that they can one day make it back home.
But it goes beyond that. DK is their leader, and there’s pressure on
him that can’t be applied to anyone else.
It’s fortunate that the four Kongs managed to stick together despite the
Snowmads’ sneak attack, but they’re still an absurd distance away from home. Forced to say goodbye to everything they know
and love, while contending with both the sins of the past and the threats of
the present, they have no choice but to press on through dangerous
territory. And you could argue that the
journey’s not even worth it; the final world has the Kongs returning to a
frozen DK Island, rendered nigh-unrecognizable by enough snow to fill South
Dakota.
Human or ape, that doesn’t strike me as the sort
of thing you just shrug off. It’d
probably help my case if the Kongs didn’t universally cheer and shout
“WOO-HOO!” at every opportunity, but in exchange, some of the music in the game
-- in
the later levels most of all -- really helps paint the direness of the
situation. Still, imagine what it would
be like if there was just one more cutscene in the game -- one sequence
designed to establish rapport. For
example, imagine the Kongs find a frozen banana after a level overflowing with
traps. Think of how they might
react.
Diddy tries to play it all off as a laughing
matter, but you can hear how rattled he is as he tries to pal around with
DK. Dixie’s more visibly shaken, and
says out loud (relatively speaking) what no one else is willing to: “Do we have
a home to go back to?” Cranky stays
quiet and contemplative, as does DK -- the latter of the two saying that it’s
time to start pressing forward, albeit curtly.
But while DK puts up a front when he’s around
Diddy and Dixie, he’ll confide in Cranky between levels, or when the night sets
in. I can just imagine him admitting
that he’s worried, and shocked by the world of the past the group is travelling
through, and (naturally) voicing his concerns about his worthiness as a
king. The Snowmads’ assault has left his
confidence shaken, and he’s become wary of the consequences of his actions --
or lack thereof. And Cranky, wise as he
is, supports DK by telling him tales of kings past -- that merely by doubting
himself and by caring about his
closest friends, he’s proven himself worthy of the throne.
DK acknowledges that, and chooses to move forward
even if his friends’ high hopes weigh down on him. Both he and Cranky understand that the
Snowmads, and the countless other enemies out there, are eager to destroy the
Kongs’ way of life -- to destroy their culture (by smashing bananas, for
example) simply because they can.
Because of that, DK fights on with renewed vigor to reclaim his
homeland, with the potential of the past, present, and future setting his
simian heart ablaze.
That’s pretty much all my headcanon -- the
validity of which is pretty debatable. But even so, that’s hardly the important
thing about TF. No, the important thing about it -- about any
game, arguably -- is its ability to inspire
that headcanon. To transcend the
limits of pixels and platforms, and become something that provokes
thought. Provokes discussion. Provokes theorizing. You can do that with a million worlds, a thousand,
one, or even zero; what matters is that it is possible.
You know me, I hope. I’m a guy out to become a writing hero -- but
I know that there are plenty of ways to pull that off. And in my eyes, TF DOES pull off something fantastic. It reminds me of what Sun Tzu once said: “It
is best to win without fighting.” The
game’s straight narrative is so bare you’d be forgiven for thinking that
there’s no story at all -- but if you pay even a shred of attention to what’s
going on around you, then you can make your own. You can turn off the console and walk away
with something meaningful gained each time.
Every time. And if games are going
to get better -- if they’re going to reach their full potential as a medium --
then maybe that’s what they should be doing on a regular basis.
Maybe. Just
maybe.
But seriously, those rocket barrel levels are
bullshit.
And there you go.
That brings this year’s edition of Season’s Wii-tings to a close. Hope you guys had fun reading it. Even if you’ve got no interest in a Wii U (in
which case I’ve failed you, Nintendo), I hope I at least managed to enlighten
you a bit on what a game can offer, and what a game can be. I’ll say this much, though: the Wii U may
never gain the traction it wants, needs, or deserves, but damned if it doesn’t
have one of the most impressive game libraries yet.
The way things are looking, it’s going to get even
better. New Zelda, new Star Fox, new Xenoblade, new Kirby, new Yoshi,
new…squid-based shooter thing…the future’s looking brighter than ever. And because of that, I don’t have any reason
to think that gaming’s hit its nadir.
I’ve got hope for the future. And no matter your loyalty, no matter your
console of choice, so should you.
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