The retro gamer in me is alive and well and
needs to be fed regularly. My run of Seiken Densetsu 3 was not as fulfilling as I had hoped, leaving me unsatisfied and
craving for a more nutritious retro treat. What I really longed for was a short
and grindy RPG with sweet old-school graphics and as little narrative content
as possible. And it turned out that my mammoth collection contained a game that
perfectly fitted that description, namely the aforementioned Astonishia Story.
First, let’s have the usual bit of data. Astonishia Story, or AS for short, is a Korean game developed
by Sonnori and released in 2005(ko/jp) and 2006(na/eu) for the PSP. AS is not exactly a brand-new game: it
was originally released for PC in 1994, in Korea only, and subsequently remade
for a Korean gaming system in 2002—the PSP version being a port of that remake.
Knowing the game’s origins tarnishes its image somehow: instead of being the
tongue-in-cheek homage to the 8-bit era that it seems to be at first sight, it
is actually a lazy port of a lazy remake of a game that was already outdated at
the time of its initial release. Indeed, you’d be forgiven for not noticing
that the PSP version of AS is a
remake, for it oozes 8-bit-ness through its every pixel. Most reviewers were
not exactly happy with such a lazily retro game, which led AS to be universally panned and reap the shockingly bad scores of 48
on Metacritic and 50.76 on Gamerankings.
By all accounts, this is a horrendous game;
and yet, I totally liked it. I definitely think that AT could appeal to a certain audience, namely the retro gamers who
love their games on the challenging side and really don’t mind a crappy storyline.
I’m one of them, and I’m sure that I’m not alone. To all my masochistic retro-digging
comrades, here’s the perfect treat for you! This game fits our needs oh so very
well, and here’s how.
Game,
what retro looks you have!
Let’s start with the obvious: the presentation,
folks. AS is as 8-bit looking as it can
be, from the top-down view to the presence of a world map on which you can move
your character. (Let’s remember that explorable world maps are very specific to
the 8-bit era: while a couple of 16-bit RPGs would let you roam around on such
a map, like Terranigma and the Dragon Quest series, most of them
ditched the thing entirely in favour of short segments of land designed to
accommodate the characters’ scale and increase realism.) In a nice nod to
modern times, AS ditches the random
encounter approach on the aforementioned world map and lets you see enemies
instead. But fear not the dilution of 8-bit-ness, retro aficionados: the
dungeons maintain random encounters—with a fairly balanced rate to boot—and the
enemies on the world map are so hard to avoid that you’ll be forced to fight a
good number of them, willingly or not, as you make your way through the game.
The looks are a hit-or-miss: they are
basically 8-bit shapes and patterns that, instead of being pixelated like back
in the days, look like they’ve been hand drawn and carefully crayoned with
coloured pencils. I am totally fond of that style, but that is really a matter
of taste, I guess. Just like Ys I&II Chronicles, AS bristles with
lovely and intricate details, from the people’s crammed interiors to the
animals running and flying all around the place in villages, forests, dungeons
and even on the world map. To see cats and dogs strolling around and birds
nesting in trees in every town is deliciously heart-warming, as well as
encountering fluffy white rabbits in forests; on the other hand, discovering
that you can crush mice to a bloody pulp under your feet if you’re not careful
enough is bound to be a shocking surprise for every player. But the detail
galore doesn’t stop there: while the world map is fairly generic and tends to
look the same throughout the whole game, each and every town has its own
architectural style, which is breathtakingly rendered through exquisite
flourishes. The same goes for forests and fighting areas, albeit with slightly
less variations. As for the dungeons, their design is obviously a trifle more
monotonous, but they are still quite distinct from one another and made even
more alive by the presence of scurrying mice, light beams filtering through
cracks in the walls and various objects. There may have been very little money poured into that game’s development, but there was certainly heaps of love to compensate, and it shows gloriously in that opulence of details.
The only thing that harks back more to the 16-bit era than to the 8-bit one is AS’ linearity. The game pushes you dutifully from one place to the next and
regularly prevents you from going back to already visited areas, which could
definitely be irritating. However, that linearity is handled in a way that
makes it quite palatable. For one thing, there is not the slightest hint of
backtracking, which is incredibly refreshing; for another, the presence of the
world map makes you feel less constrained, since you can roam large portions of
land at once instead of going from one town to the next through a single path
in typical 16-bit fashion. Even more interesting, this linearity generates an
urgency that can magnify the player’s feelings: you’re on a desperate quest,
moving ever-forward, and there is not coming back whatsoever until you’ve
accomplished your mission.
Interestingly, AS managed to stir in me a strong feeling of gaming fernweh: an acute desire to be part of the game world and explore it
myself rather than just see it on a screen. I used to experience this kind of
sweet aching wanderlust quite a lot while playing games in my younger years;
but I had not felt it for a very long time, and it was quite the surprise to experience
it again. This fernweh was stirred by
the lovely villages and forests bristling with life, the world map teasing me
with unreachable places and the beautiful soft colours of the sceneries, and it
felt wonderful. I’d be curious to know if the ability to elicit such a feeling
is a quality inherent to that game, leading other players to experience it while
playing AS, or if this is just an
idiosyncrasy of mine.
At any rate, we’re talking about a
confidently 8-bit inspired game here. It may not be an exact visual clone of
the heavily pixelated games of the ’80s, but it looks and feels like an RPG of that era nonetheless. But the old-school
goodness doesn’t stop here: not only does AS
has the retro looks, but it’s also full to the brim with good ol’ tropes lifted
straight from the ’80s. Let’s dissect them right now!
Game,
what retro tropes you have!
Let’s start this section with a few words
about the narrative, which, in jolly good 8-bit fashion, is quite inexistent. The
storyline is just a badly crafted excuse to roam the game world: it’s mediocre
at best, and more often than not completely nonsensical. Characters make constant
ad hoc references to events and lore that are never mentioned again, and by the
time you clear the game, you will very likely have forgotten what the point of
your quest was in the first place. The characters’ interactions are fortunately
more pleasant, with many light-hearted moments, comical outbursts and sweet
budding romances. There is no character development to speak of, but that’s perfectly
fine: occasional romantic innuendos and random bits of dialogue are all the character
development that old-timers need in their RPGs. It’s also worth mentioning that
the game manages to compensate for its narrative mediocrity by being humorous
and self-derisive: the Fourth Wall is being broken a couple of times in
deliciously absurd and unexpected ways that I won’t spoil here, and the general
tone is definitely light-hearted, with lots of goofy situations and replicas.
This may not be the subtler humour ever, granted, but it’s still efficient. I’d
rather have a crappy storyline that doesn’t take itself too seriously than a
crappy storyline that tries to pass for a great one by being annoyingly
serious.
With this out of the way, let’s move on to
meatier old-school tropes. It’s fighting time, folks! As you may expect from an
8-bit-ish RPG, you’ll spend most of your time fighting, fighting and fighting
more. Apart from the regular exploration bits—i.e. finding your next
destination or the exit of that dungeon—and the comforting dwelling in the
safety of villages, this game is all about fighting. The fighting system itself
is not especially reminiscent of the 8-bit era, and may very well be the most
modern feature of AS: it’s a
grid-based system with a strong S-RPG flavour that allows characters to move
around in turns and to use attacks with various ranges. The whole thing is
sprinkled with a touch of elemental complementarities that thankfully deepens
matters a little bit. It’s quite simple in essence, but there are enough ranges
and elemental variations to offer a good variety of attacks and make combat
pleasant and entertaining. And that’s all for the best, because indeed, you
will be fighting when playing that game. The good old RPG wisdom that dictates
that you should never shy away from random battles if you want to be properly
levelled-up is alive and well in AS,
conveniently enforced by the fact that attempts at fleeing do not always
succeed. (There is a special item that allows you to flee without fail,
though.) In addition, you may need extra bouts of grinding on a regular basis
in order to glean money. Everything costs a hefty price, from the healing items
to the weapons and armours; and unlike in more modern games, it’s very
recommended to have the strongest equipment and totally mandatory to have
mountains of healing items if you don’t want to be wiped out in the middle of a
dungeon or a boss fight. Rest assured that there is not risk of sitting on a
pile of unused money by the time the credits roll; this is old-school
territory, and if you want to get some much-needed money, you’ll have to sweat
for it.
You’ll have to sweat quite a lot in general
when playing AS, actually. This game boasts
another prominent trope of the 8-bit era, which is none other than mighty Difficulty.
Interestingly enough, difficulty in AS
does not take the classic form of sudden difficulty spikes: such occurrences
are completely absent from the game, making way for a difficulty curve that
increases in the smoothest way and should be easy to ride as long as you don’t
run away from random encounters. Instead, the difficulty stems from your
character’s limitations. Here’s a telling example: the game is heavily biased
in favour of MP-consuming attacks—classic, shall we say. Unfortunately, your
characters really don’t have that much MP, including the ones that are supposed
to be the best magic-wielders. It’s thus not uncommon to run out of MP after
two or three random encounters on the field—or even one, for that matter. Level-grinding doesn’t solve the issue at
all, since it only grants your characters a fraction of extra MP; this
limitation is very much a design choice, and one that is bound to be present
throughout the whole game. The only way to circumvent that hindrance is to
stock up piles of the resident—and rather expensive—MP-restoring items before
venturing in dungeons or fighting bosses. (The world map is less dangerous,
since the next town is always close by and fleeing from fights is a tad
easier.) This is also true for your HP, albeit to a lesser extent: even the
meanest field monsters tend to hit incredibly hard, and seeing your weakest
characters lose 90% of their HP from a single hit is pretty much routine. Let’s
also mention that your party is NEVER automatically healed after a boss fight,
even when you’re in the depths of a dungeon and must still cross a mass of
corridors to find the exit while hanging on to your last HPs. On a more
strategic note, the game often attributes random elemental strengths to enemies
AND keeps their stats hidden from you. As you may imagine, this can easily lead
you to waste some precious MP by unknowingly casting spells that foes are
immune to and trying to figure out which attacks are the most efficient through
trial-and-error. All in all, the general rule goes as such: while never being
downright unfair, the game always put you at a slight disadvantage by
default—and sometimes at a massive one, which leads us directly to the next
trope in line.
Let me ask you this: would an 8-bit-flavoured
RPG be complete without a ridiculously long and difficult final boss fight, in
which all odds are against you? Yeah, you know what I’m talking about: an epic two-phase
boss battle, with no healing in-between and a second phase that pits you
against a megaboss that can pretty much wipe out your whole party in one hit while your
strongest attacks hardly make a dent in its HP bar. That’s the pinnacle of
8-bit-ness, the cherry on top of the hardcore 8-bit RPG sundae. And it is in Astonishia Story, of course. You didn’t
expect less, did you? Indeed, if AS
had any modicum of popularity, its ultimate boss battle would probably be
legendary by now. I needed no less than five tries to beat the two final bosses
of that game, and it took me forty
minutes to do so, despite the fact that my characters were only a couple of levels away from the maximum attainable level in that game—which,
incidentally, is Lv.25. This is just ridiculous, it really is, and it’s a
blatant case of fake longevity if I ever saw one. And yet, I lapped up the
challenge and felt so incredibly sated and fulfilled when that overpowered
second boss died at my hands, making way for a short yet lovely ending. O,
sweet joys of the 8-bit era! The thrill of slowly wearing down and finally
eradicating a mighty boss with your infinitely weak party is just incomparable,
even more so when it is topped by a sweet ending sequence that makes you feel
all warm and fuzzy inside. I will post an addendum especially dedicated to that
intense final boss battle, for there is more to say on the matter. For now,
let’s move on!
It’s worth noting that while taking its
cues from the 8-bit era, AS still
benefits from three decades of gaming evolution; as a result, it avoids most of
the pitfalls of early RPG-dom. For one thing, it shows a modicum of welcome leniency
in the saving department by allowing you to save at any moment and load a
different save while playing, which is quite neat and convenient; in an era
that still gives birth to an infuriatingly high number of portable games with
no instant save feature, this is a treat that must be enjoyed to the fullest. Technical
problems and glitches are entirely averted, and the most annoying thing that
can happen in that game is to be temporarily blocked by a sprite standing in
your way. The menu system is also much more intuitive than your typical 8-bit
menu, which is quite a relief. Last but not least, a good number of annoying
tropes of the 8-bit era are deflected entirely, such as fake difficulty due to
bad controls, lack of information or cheating AI. The dreaded “Lost forever” trope
is present, granted, but with no dire consequences whatsoever, which makes it a
mere annoyance rather that a serious hindrance. (More on that in the upcoming
addendum.)
All in all, Astonishia Story is nowhere near as horrendous as reviews painted
it to be. Granted, it’s a complete throwback to an era that is long dead and
gone and as such, it can definitely be panned as lazy and uninspired; however,
I had a lot of fun playing it, and that’s the most important part. If you’re a
dedicated retro gamer with a masochistic streak, a love for grinding and a high
tolerance for mediocre storylines, this game may well offer you a couple of
very pleasant gaming hours. These won’t be my final words on the matter, as the
addendum to that post is on its way. Thanks for reading, and be my guest
anytime!
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