REVISITING
Patapon 2
By Jamie Love - May 25th, 2009
Reviewing Patapon 2 really should be the easiest job in the world. The game is the best example of the success that can be achieved through collaboration in design, merging the work of French artist Rolito (Sebastien Giuli) with the solid mechanics Sony’s internal Japanese development teams are known for. Patapon is visual arresting, rhythmically hypnotic, and wrapped together by that slick Sony marketing that uses brand power without feeling overtly corporate. Since we’ve already posted one review of Patapon 2 after the European release, it didn’t seem sensible for me to merely rubber stamp the game with my own enthusiasm. And yet I feel the need to say something about the game.
It never enters my mind that someone wouldn’t enjoy this series. You know the deal about it taking more muscles to frown than it does to smile? That absolutely applies to Patapon. It’s possible some might have grown tired of hearing about the game so often, but I earnestly don’t believe that anyone could truly dislike the series.
As a sequel, Patapon 2 manages to offer enough new elements without losing the core gameplay established – which is easier said than done. Where the original lacked a certain amount of user control in determining the make-up of the Patapon tribe, the sequel offers direct control with an evolution system that allows for choice. This also deepens the need to replay levels to gain the supplies necessary to create new Patapon, making the level grinding more of a user choice than an assigned chore. And where the first game was difficult at times, Patapon 2 adds an extra warning system to fever mode and the Hero character, ensuring newcomers are welcomed to the game but also making the gameplay more flexible rather than simplistic for veterans. Since this has all been said plenty of times already, I’d far rather get beneath the skin of the game. But it’s a difficult task given that the game so seamlessly ties together the mediums that make it work. Separating and dissecting the elements that make this series successful feels like pulling apart a Swiss clock – because these elements work as well as they do because they are merged together and feeding off one another.
The first time I ever saw Patapon, it immediately reminded me of the Samurai Jack series. The game displayed that same trickery, merging deceptively simplistic designs with very complex and flowing action. The creatures within Patapon are essentially primitive shapes with distinguishing marks layered over that foundation. And it’s very mythical, aiding the allure of this tribe within some lost world. Certainly it taps into a primal sensibility, which is why so many people tattoo symbols on their skin. There’s a statement being made, but not a definitive one, existing as form with direct meaning, and thus open to interpretation. Drew Taylor put it quite well in a Gamasutra piece when he wrote that the design was,
“A candy-shaped universe full of strong geometry and complementary color palettes. Cave paintings for a Disney-Pixar audience.”
And the stark simplicity of the design makes the movement more fluid to the eye, with every gesture an automatic exaggeration that is quite severe against the absence of a firm design intention. Or better yet, it is simply joyous to watch these creatures move, uncertain as to the possibilities as their forms don’t automatically insinuate a natural movement. Add to this the essentially black shades of creatures versus the bright and sharp colour palette in the background - green, orange, purple - and you’ve got easy eye candy. Everything stands out sharp and crisp on the PSP screen and demands attention. It simply feels like seeing something familiar while different. It’s also incredible to consider just how much emotion these creatures can exhibit with little more than an eyeball at their disposal.
Sometimes I’m reminded of the way Yoshi’s Island uses vibrant colour, as if specifically to recapture my attention and imagination in a world of drab aesthetics. And Patapon feels like a matured attempt at the same thing, creating an aesthetic unique to itself though it borrows from many longstanding traditions.
Of course the crucial component is the music, which strays far from the contemporary while infecting the modern sound scape. The primitive shouts and cries most often sound like the voices of children, and every nuance of sound stands out against that backdrop. When the player achieves fever mode, the excitement passes through the body as the Patapon raise the pitch of their singing and fight harder – notably offering a direct investment in the rhythm. Previous games never offered such a direct reward, or perhaps such direct visual results from the rhythm performance. And considering how generally passive RPGs are, there’s something profound about the way Patapon has invested us more aggressively that I still have no words for. At some point I have to stop thinking quite so hard about it, and simply allow the chanting to resonate in my chest, feeling it like a war chant or a battle cry.
And that’s where I’m at right now with Patapon 2. I could write about the ways it uses the RPG system to balance the gameplay while falling into rhythm to deliver the greater sense of play. I’m sure even a lengthy discussion about the myriad of augmentations the series brings to the table is worth having. But at the end of all those pretty words, Patapon is simply a game I like the idea of as much as I like playing. I’m quite happy just knowing it exists.
