Wednesday, February 15, 2023

Doki Doki Literature Club! - Thoughts


To talk about Doki Doki Literature Club candidly is to spoil what makes it special. There's no practical way around that; the best advice one can give to a curious onlooker is to "go in blind." Even starting the game reveals a glimpse into DDLC's secret, with text boxes popping up to ward away the squeamish. It's a game that can and should be played without a guide, a visual novel that's strikingly competent with its writing and themes. If you have a penchant for the strange or unnerving, give it a chance—DDLC may be slow and unremarkable at the start, but I promise it'll unfold into an experience you won't soon forget.

[spoilers ahead]


Boy, what a journey! All I knew before diving into Doki Doki Literature Club was that it was supposed to be "scary", but I wasn't quite sure what that entailed. Was it a jumpscare game like Five Nights at Freddy's? Solemnly spooky like Silent Hill? Or a discordant, gut-wrenching spiral to hell like Saya No Uta? Astonishingly it's kind of a mix of all three—with plenty of humor slathered on top for levity! There are definitely some pitch black moments to jolt you from your seat (like Sayori and Yuri's deaths), but DDLC is a surprisingly funny game that prefers to amuse you more than scare your pants off. Yuri's crazy eyes best exemplify this trait: they're an initially terrifying reveal that's fairly silly in retrospect, especially considering she's just a lovesick loon that's as attracted to you as she is paranoid of her own perversion.

The best part about Doki Doki Literature Club for me—hands down—was the game's numerous one-off surprises. Stuff like the weird pitch change in music, Monika's head popping up while writing a poem, the creeping dutch tilt as you talk with Yuri, the mouse cursor dragging back towards Monika's choice, your real name drop—there are a ton of fun moments DDLC uses once and then never again. Only after I finished it did I learn the game was furtively dropping mysterious files into its own folder, a great meta-touch that shows how committed Dan Salvato is to actualizing his world. And nothing symbolizes DDLC's ingenuity better than its crowning achievement: deleting Monika's character file.


Video games are a fascinating medium due to the fact that they (most often) require player participation in order to function properly. Stories don't simply solve themselves—you have to put in some legwork to see the end, even if campaigns nowadays guarantee you a safe passage on "story mode". But occasionally, a game will use the gameplay itself to make a thematic statement. Think of the borrowed strength at the end of BrothersUndertale's genocide route requiring pure psychopathy from the player, and a handful of brilliant others that veer too closely to spoiler territory (like Kotaro Uchikoshi and Yoko Taro's works). Mechanics like these not only reinforce the narrative in an unexpected way, but are only possible in the interactive-driven medium of video games.

Doki Doki Literature Club joins these vaunted ranks by requiring you to manually delete the game's main antagonist off of your hard drive to reach its ending. It's perhaps the most brutal way a VN love interest has ever been rejected. The idea itself induces a double take, evolving from a suspicious "wait, could I?" to a full-throated gamble that risks destroying the executable. I like how the move echoes Monika's own actions too, treating her as she treated others—despite the timeless void arguably being the game's "happiest" end. And even after this betrayal from the player, Monika continues to love them, the remnants of her code irreversibly corrupting the game to save them from its soulless, affection-starved inhabitants.

What I love about this bittersweet closure is how it rehabilitates Monika back into being a sympathetic character. She's by far the most unsettling heroine of the lot, despite never engaging in anything outwardly "scary" the entire game (I adore Yuri, but she's definitely queen freak). And yet Monika's cool demeanor is precisely what makes her so chilling; beneath those calm emerald eyes is a manipulative, cruel, and cunning schemer with the detached patience of a mortician. She argues that she's above the others simply because she can see a world outside of the ones and zeroes, but she too falls prey to the player's infallible charm, programmed to love them even after being tossed into the recycle bin. The Portal-esque serenade at the ending credits paint her as a tragic figure—and in turn, can kindle a curious, Stockholm-like fondness in the player's heart. They might come to idolize Doki Doki's maladjusted cast just as they were idolized in turn, a Newton's cradle of unrequited love bound to spiral into obsession if left unchecked. DDLC is a visual novel that boldly suggests that sometimes, falling in love can be to the benefit of no one if it is not mutual.

And in those cases, it's simply better to leave and let be.


My feelings for Doki Doki Literature Club rose from a dry amusement to genuine curiosity as soon as the game presented me its first poem. I love the idea of learning about someone via their vulnerable art—but Doki Doki's girls weren't vulnerable as much as they were plainly disturbed. And while it was indeed a disturbing experience, it was also (quite literally) a doki-doki experience, full of tension, excitement, and genuine heart. It's a game clearly born of a love for both visual novels and horror, wanting to thrill you in its own quirky, special, deranged way. For as short as it was, Doki Doki Literature Club was a great ride, one that left me only slightly worried that Monika might still be stowed away on my computer somewhere, judging me for having Nekopara in my Steam library.

(it was part of a VN bundle!!!)

Monday, February 6, 2023

Super Cyborg - Thoughts


As fan-made spiritual successors to dormant franchises continue to spring up, it's been harder and harder to keep track of the notable ones. Thanks to one Shmup Junkie, Super Cyborg blipped onto my radar, prompting some playthroughs from me between the larger titles I'm chewing on. I had previously thought Blazing Chrome had given me all the Contra nostalgia I could ever ask for, but Super Cyborg is of a markedly different breed; whereas Blazing Chrome idolizes Contra Hard Corps, Super Cyborg (unsurprisingly) adores the older Super C. But something went wrong with its creation—Super Cyborg was submerged in a vat of acid, sloughing off the game's merciful exterior to expose its raw meat and bones. What survived the acid bath is one of the most difficult run'n'guns I've played to date, demanding a level of consistency, precision, and memorization more befitting of Ghosts 'n Goblins than Contra.


It bears repeating: Super Cyborg is as tough as diamond nails. Its "easy" difficulty is a gross misnomer; nothing about the game is easy, besides maybe its first stage. You'll likely hit a wall in the runner-infested cliffside of Stage 3, and then another in the claustrophobic guts of Stage 5, but nothing can prepare you for the final stage: a terrifying gauntlet of constant enemies, attacks from the rear, and a long elevator ride to an even longer final boss you'll have to learn inside and out. It's no joke—over half of your playtime will be spent inside this infested hellnest, where losing a single power-up induces a full stage reset. Seriously, just try to fight the final boss without the Spread gun and see if you can stay alive for 10 seconds.

The good news (if you choose to take it as such) is that easy teaches you everything you need to know to tackle normal. The bump up in difficulty only makes two adjustments: more popcorn foes and a ~33% increase in enemy health. While it makes the hard levels a bit harder (Stage 7's elevator is an even bigger pain in the ass), you don't really need to change any of your tactics or learn new boss attacks—just make sure to shoot behind yourself every now and then. Hard mode is an entirely different ballpark however, adding so many new projectiles and enemies into the mix that I nope'd out of it by Stage 3. I found the difficulties to be smartly balanced in the end, but I would've liked to see more differentiation in the stock of lives provided, as no matter which difficulty level you choose you only have 4 lives to see your mission through. A 7/5/3 life split for easy/normal/hard would've been preferable—or at the very least, midstage checkpoints for more than the last two levels.


If you've survived the crucible that was the NES era, you'll likely feel right at home here. Enemy spawns have to be memorized and safe spots located located safe spots through trial and error, but as long as you're down with that, Super Cyborg offers one hell of an experience. Everything here is spot on, from the controls to the fleshpunk visuals, from the stage design to the pulsing music pushing you forward. That's because Super Cyborg cribs its design straight from Super C: power-ups are largely the same, enemies fill similar roles, and most of the bullet sprites are borrowed from Konami's series of old—including the fuzzy red onion rings of Dethgerbis! There's plenty here to give Super Cyborg its own distinct flavor—like the grotesque, gaping human faces on its mangled enemies—but it's clear the game wouldn't exist in a world without Super C.

The last thing I wish the game had is some sort of stage select or boss rush, but frankly I'm happy it controls well and ditched having limited continues. I'm not sure I would've been able to handle getting booted back to the start every dozen deaths or so, especially since I popped the "100 deaths" achievement while clawing my way through the first half of Stage 7. I also don't like the game's unwavering reliance on conserving power-ups to survive (bosses are easier to beat on one life with a power-up than four without), but that's minor complaint in retrospect. Taken as a whole, Super Cyborg is an amazing package, especially for the price it goes on sale at—it's basically a must-play for classic Contra fans.


Like Ghouls 'n Ghosts, Super Cyborg doesn't feel nearly as insurmountable on replay... but that's because the stage layouts and power-up spawns have been burned into your brain, the timing of boss attacks etched into your phalangeal joints. As far as Contra clones go, I think Blazing Chrome continues to hold that jeweled crown, but Super Cyborg follows closely behind, touching its shadow. This love letter to Super C joins the ranks of AM2R and Mega Man Unlimited as a phenomenal fan-made sequel, not only grasping what made Contra so fun but replicating its style flawlessly. Super Cyborg a rad game—provided you can stomach the repeated beating of replaying a stage again and again and again until you finally master it.