25/10/2014

Suidoken Tierkreis (2): The most mediocre gameplay of them all



After I abundantly praised Tierkreis’ amazing narrative in my last post, it’s time to pore over less glorious aspects of the game. I won’t waste time introducing what these aspects are: if Tierkreis’ narrative was indeed stellar, its gameplay is the most mediocre, dull and uninspired piece of game mechanics I’ve seen in a long time. Not only does this gameplay have the fearsome power of boring the player to tears, but it also manages to completely wipe out the exploration thrill and the glorious sense of freedom that make RPGs so compelling in the first place. This kind of offense has become all too common in story-driven J-RPGs lately; and while it used to affect mostly home console RPGs, Tierkreis sadly shows that portable RPGs are no longer safe and protected from this infamy. I strongly feel that story-driven J-RPGs could greatly benefit from a different approach to both gameplay and narrative, and I’ll expand on that once I’ve given a good grilling to Tierkreis’ mediocre gameplay. (This intro may sound a tad negative, but fear not: this post will end up on a positive note, like most of my posts. After all, I did say that I loved this game, didn’t I?) 

Could it be any more boring? 

I was utterly shocked to discover how little actual gameplay there is in Tierkreis. The game’s storyline is a pure gem, that much is undeniable, but it’s also invasive and overbearing to the point of becoming oppressive. It steals the gameplay’s thunder almost constantly: Tierkreis is first and foremost a massive narrative feast that incessantly shoves cutscenes up your retinas and never lets you dive fully into the gameplay. To make matters worse, you hardly ever do something truly meaningful in that game: not only are the gameplay segments pitifully and frustratingly short, but there are also of the most boring nature imaginable. Here’s a revelatory example, which I will call “The Great Hall Bore”: you come back to your headquarters after a so-called “mission” —i.e. a scripted segment loaded with cutscenes—only to be welcomed by yet another cutscene informing you that something has happened and that you must meet your troops in the Great Hall to discuss the situation. You’d think that after having interrupted the flow of the gameplay every thirty seconds with cutscenes during the last half-hour, the game would have the courtesy to take you directly to the aforementioned Great Wall, wouldn't you? Heck, no! It saves that most boring task of crossing half of your headquarters and climbing three floors to reach the Great Hall for you, the player. And guess how many times you have to meet your troops in that accursed Great Hall throughout the game? Here’s a clue: way too many. 

Since I mentioned the missions, I might as well expand on how dreadfully dull most of them are. The recruitment missions usually involve going to a certain place, talking to the coveted character and then coming back to your headquarters with a new member added to your roster. Does it sound boring? That’s because it is. But there is worse: some missions are purely and simply devoid of any content. Despite the fact that their descriptions seem to involve performing an action, the only real thing you have to do to fulfil them is to let a given amount of time pass. And how do you make time pass? By running around on the word map—which, en passant, is nothing more than a lacklustre drawing with a few locations pinpointed here and there, on which the Hero runs following dotted lines. The whole process is so insipid and lifeless that I nearly want to cry in misery. 

It shouldn’t surprise anyone that the dungeons are utterly soulless too. They are not even full-fledged dungeons to start with: let’s rather call them “these rare areas where the game lets you regain control at last”. No, wait a minute; such a name could make them seem like a relief of sorts, which they are not the slightest bit. A more fitting name would be “The areas you have to trudge through to trigger the next cutscene in line”. Yes, that is exactly what these places are. For one thing, they are anaemic, each of them containing just a couple of screens. For another, they are poorly designed, abusing dead ends and uninspired camera angles and boasting a level of utter emptiness that no RPG should be allowed to endorse nowadays. To add insult to injury, they have an infuriatingly high random encounter rate—undoubtedly to hide the fact that they are so microscopic. The crossing of such areas should provide moments of much-needed freedom that let you explore to your heart’s content and experiment with your characters; instead, it is the most dreadful chore of the game, a painful trudge filled with random encounters every three steps. What a missed opportunity, indeed. 

All this dullness is already bad enough, but this is unfortunately not the biggest failure of Tierkreis’ gameplay. Wait! I hear you cry out, what can possibly be worse than a boring gameplay? Well, I’ll tell you: a boring gameplay on rails.  

Do I even need to be there? 

To put it bluntly, Tierkreis is a game that basically plays itself, using the player as a cutscene-triggering lackey. 

Since its very inception, the holy realm of RPG has been governed by an implicit golden rule that goes as such: the player must feel strongly that their actions are shaping the narrative. The storyline has to unfold exclusively through the player’s input, following the pace that suits them best. All RPGs, even the most linear ones and the ones that abuse backtracking, strive to carefully craft the illusion that the Hero, controlled by the player, is writing history as buttons are pushed and quests cleared one after the other. Or rather, nearly all RPGs: for Tierkreis shatters this golden rule to pieces and chooses instead to very openly coerce the said player into the narrow path dictated by the storyline, to an extent and with fervour that I’ve never encountered before—and that I fervently hope never to encounter again. Indeed, this game gives you the most unpleasant feeling that the storyline is writing itself and dragging you along the way. You’re basically at the game’s beck and call, jumping when it tells you to jump and clearing whatever boring task it throws at you; and you’re not doing that because the game manages to make you feel that it’s your duty as the hero, but because you simply don’t have any other choice. To make sure that you do its bidding, Tierkreis has a bunch of unfailing constraining techniques that it uses profusely. Lo and behold, here’s the accursed list: 

—The composition of your party is often predefined, to an extent that’s way too large for comfort. I can understand that the Hero’s presence is mandatory, but does the game really need to force one or two other unmovable party members on me, occupying two or three of the four slots available and severely curtailing my opportunities to experiment with characters? As you’d expect, this all boils down to narrative consistency, which is just frustrating. Why give me the opportunity to recruit so many characters if I can’t use them to my heart’s content?  

—The locations on the world map appear only when the storyline dictates that the time is ripe to explore them. Before that, the map basically looks like a blank slate. This is bound to kill any thrill of curiosity and wonderment that could have been born in your soul from staring at remote places with exotic names and looks, and it’s incredibly patronizing to boot. Give me a break, Konami: I’m not an innocent child that needs to be surprised and entertained by the sudden appearance of new locations—especially when the said locations are so few and so utterly generic to start with. 

—The game prevents you from returning to some places at some points, on the basis that the storyline doesn’t require you to go there or forbids you to do so. I really, really hate when games do that. Am I the bleeping Hero acting on his own free will here or not? Oh, wait: actually, I’m not. I’m the game’s puppet, and that’s the whole problem. 

—Last but certainly not least, perish the thought, Tierkreis often forbids you to leave an area until you’ve cleared what you’re supposed to do there. I can’t find the words to express how much this infuriates and maddens me. This is insultingly patronizing, and the scolding comments made by your party members when you try to leave these accursed areas only add fuel to the fire of my wrath. To increase my ire even more, Tierkreis uses a totally archaic system of save points and is utterly stingy with allocating them. Can you see the offense looming on the horizon? Heck, you guessed it: some of these places are entirely devoid of save points, which forces you to clear them right here and now lest your progress be lost. (Can you hear my teeth grinding like crazy?) 

I loathe Tierkreis’ patronizing ways; I really do. But there is more to abhor: not only does the game actively coerce you into doing its bidding, but it also makes sure that any endeavour to rekindle your freedom is utterly pointless. And what better way to do so than by attacking one of the most prominent symbol of freedom in RPG and sucking every purpose out of it, turning it into a mere futility? You guessed it, ladies and gentlemen: they made level-grinding useless. Tierkreis taunts the player with its random encounters, making them believe that the virtually unlimited avenue of level-grinding freedom will be preserved at least, and then pulls the rug from under their feet by shoving in their face how totally futile and pointless it would be to even think of grinding for levels. See for yourself the extent of this game’s callousness: 

—Predetermined progression: The various magic abilities wielded by your characters are not acquired as they gain levels like in any other RPG under the gaming sun; instead, these abilities are granted to them when some milestones in the storyline are reached, regardless of the characters’ levels. While this design choice ensures that all members of your large roster remain properly balanced, it also totally kills any motivation to level-grind in Tierkreis, trampling your last hope of getting a relief from the ubiquitous, all-encompassing storyline. 

—Unwinnable boss fights: Is there anything more discouraging, disheartening and pointless than a boss fight that you have no chance to win? Such occurrences shouldn’t exist in the first place. Ever. This is the supreme negation of the very act of gaming and the most potent offense that a game can commit. I don’t care that it serves a narrative purpose; if I have no chance whatsoever to win a boss battle despite my level 99, then don’t let me fight in the first place and serve me a cutscene instead, you stupid game. Jeez, it’s not like you’re not soiling yourself with cutscenes already. 

In the end, Tierkreis’ gameplay is an epic failure. As I played its short and boring segments, I often felt more eager to reach the next cutscene in line than to keep doing what I was doing; and as a whole, discovering the narrative was by far the most pleasant part of the game. This is just so wrong. This is something that should never happen when playing an RPG. No matter how excellent Tierkreis’ or any other RPG’s narrative may be, it should under no circumstances be more enjoyable than the gameplay. Ever

The saddest part is that despite all my ranting and fuming about it, Tierkreis’ gameplay is not even mediocre per se. It is actually a fairly competent gameplay that has the supreme misfortune of being rendered mediocre by the overwhelming presence of the narrative—or, more precisely, by its lack of cohesion with the narrative, which is an affliction that struck many J-RPGs of late and that I will now examine more closely.

Can I please get my freedom back? 

Indeed, what is Tierkreis at its core? It’s a bunch of old-school RPG features plastered with a complex storyline. Or, if you prefer, it’s a complex storyline peppered with old-school RPG gameplay segments. Such an assemblage may look promising seen from afar: after all, one could think that pairing a good, solid old-school gameplay with a rich storyline would give us the better of two worlds, right? Alas, it’s not that straightforward. 

Tierkreis is a perfect example of the struggles encountered by J-RPG as it moves from its old-school roots to more modern templates, meandering and getting somewhat lost in the process. Nowadays, many Japanese developers feel compelled to include incredibly intricate storylines and character development by the truckload in their RPGs. Such narrative extravaganza is told through dozens—if not hundreds—of cutscenes that nearly always give the feeling that they’re barging into the flow of the gameplay and severing it in the most unpleasant way. The reason why they feel like intrusions and hindrances rather than welcome developments is quite simple: in most cases, either due to laziness, shortage of funds or lack of imagination, developers put together an old-school RPG gameplay and then shoehorn their narrative into it. This produces games in which the gameplay and the narrative are totally disjointed and sap each other rather than support each other, and Tierkreis is the perfect encapsulation of this process. Such a marriage cannot work, due to the very nature of the old-school gameplay based on grinding, exploration, turn-based random battles and the like: this kind of gameplay was designed to maximize freedom and give room for experiment, customization and micro-managing. As a result, it cannot accommodate a complex narrative, which is by nature encompassing, directive and invasive. This is a lose-lose situation if I ever saw one: the player cannot fully enjoy the level of freedom they expect from the gameplay because they are constantly pushed around and interrupted by the narrative, nor can they fully enjoy the narrative, which is too stretched out and intercut with gameplay segments to be truly gripping. And let’s not even talk about the pacing: Tierkreis and all its story-driven cronies won’t let you fall into the comfortable and slightly obsessive rhythm generated by grinding, nor will they let you relax and allow yourself to be carried away by the story. 

This incapacity to design a harmonious and seemingly organic blend of gameplay and narrative, in which the two complete each other rather than cancel out each other, is the biggest failure of story-driven J-RPG as a genre. Fortunately, it’s not an irreversible one: with a good dose of patience, brain-racking and gusto, it should certainly be possible to design a story-driven RPG in which the gameplay and the narrative feel like a natural extension of one another. In fact, some games already achieved that goal: Riviera masterfully tied the outcomes of its storyline directly to the way the gameplay is performed, and my beloved Avalon Code is blessed with a gripping narrative that modifies the gameplay in major and incredibly original ways. We can only hope that more games will follow their example in the future and that cutscene-laden J-RPGs with disjointed gameplays will slowly disappear, and be ultimately seen as nothing more than meanders that the genre needed to go through to find its way. 

There is even some hope for Tierkreis, actually. Sure, it’s already out there and cannot be altered, but considering it from a different angle can help one ease their way through it. If you approach that game as a massive visual novel with old-school gameplay segments, it suddenly becomes much more palatable. In fact, I could nearly believe that this was Konami's plan from the get-go and that Tierkreis is indeed a visual novel based on the Suikoden universe rather than an RPG—if not for the fact that it is far too long, does not have different routes and features still a trifle too much gameplay to pass for a visual novel. Oh, well.

Despite being three hours into my second playthrough of Tierkreis, I won’t clear it now and will instead shelve the game for the time being. I want to preserve what little replay value it may have, and the 30 hours I spent on my first playthrough left me sated already. A summary of my run would be pointless, since Tierkreis is the kind of game that unfolds in the same way for all players: suffice it to say that I ended up with 48 Stars out of the 108, and it was already much more than I could use. 

So, I’m done with Tierkreis for now. I loved that game, I truly did; and despite hating its patronizing ways, I would still recommend it to anyone who love their RPG stuffed with a compelling narrative and charismatic characters. I will probably come back to it one day, if only to gain a new insight into the storyline; but for now, I’m moving to freer pastures with a huge sigh of relief. Thanks for reading, and be my guest anytime!

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