Video Games

I’ve been thinking about writing on R-Type for some time now. It’s one of the finest series that the industry has produced and I’ve always enjoyed the excellent design of every entry Irem has made. But recently, I’ve been thinking about R-Type Final. See, the R-Type series is known for its punishing difficulty—all of its games are excruciating exercises in pattern memory and strategy. Fans of the series, like myself, know this and love it, as well as the imaginative and bizarre variety of challenges presented to the player by the nefarious Bydo Empire. R-Type Final, the last “true” chapter in the series is no exception; however for me it has remained memorable for a reason other than its excellent contribution to the genre—the sadness that permeates every aspect of its design.

Final is definitely the odd child in the family. Let me try to explain this, in a spoiler-heavy way.

R-Type Final’s menu screen shows a dormant, discarded Force Bit submerged in slowly lapping waves, lacking its normal, vibrant orange glow. Anyone familiar with the series will find this interesting­— that the first image we are presented with has such a stark, resolute finality: R-Type’s severed head is served to us on a platter before we even set out; the symbolic Force Bit is not only a casualty of Operation Last Dance, but perhaps also of the changing climate of video game design that ended the series? The classic catchphrase “Blast off and strike the evil Bydo empire!” is conspicuously absent. There’s no glory to be had on this somber day, oh no. Okay Jules, that was dramatic! What next?

Let’s start at the beginning: the story. Traditionally, R-Type is straight ahead no-brains sci-fi, nothing more than a façade to justify blowing up enemies of all shapes and sizes. Irem saw it fit to update this with the release of R-Type Final by fleshing out the mythology somewhat. Unlike many blast-a-thon shooting games, R-Type Final is better for it, now the story suitably seems significantly more tragic. For those who are unfamiliar, which likely includes even the vast majority of R-Type fans, let me fill you in.

In the 26th century, mankind created the Bydo as sentient weapon systems. They were stored off-planet in a large containment facility, however somehow they managed to escape. Realizing the danger the Bydo presented, the humans of the 26th century fought to destroy them. They were quickly overwhelmed by their own creation. Using a ‘portal’ device (and this is where it amps up the eyeroll-itude factor) they sealed them into a pocket dimension that existed outside the traditional confines of time and space. The Bydo managed to survive this attack, and eventually they found a way out of their dimension, emerging supremely evolved, angry, and quite alive—in the 22nd century, 4 centuries prior to their creation. Naturally, the first item on their agenda was to try to destroy the human race that would eventually create them. The 22nd century humans, having much more primitive technology, had no way of defeating the Bydo until they created the Force Bit, which is essentially a Bydo entity with a shock-collar, an immensely powerful beast they have a measure of control over. The R-Type games chronicle the struggle of these humans. It’s not the most compelling story out there, nor is it exactly plot-hole free, but I think it clearly accentuates the theme of unfairness, desperation and suffering that is so central to the conflict of R-Type Final. The humans of the 22nd century are made to bear the consequences of a people they never even knew: their descendants. This is also a concept that makes the story simultaneously stupid from some angles and incredibly clever from others, all of the cyclic cause-effect paradoxes that are typical of time-travel naturally come into play, but perhaps the most important one is that it speaks something for the character of the humans of any time, something we can relate to. That is; that humans are by nature power-obsessed, and they will inevitably doom themselves with their incessant curiosity, and that others—innocent bystanders included— will pay for their mistakes. The immense unfair burden of the 22nd century humans also serves to highlight the positive power of that same curiosity in quelling the Bydo permanently.

But this feeling of futility is not only relegated to the introductory text in the game’s manual, rather it is effected throughout the game very intelligently. Unlike other iterations of the series  which had upbeat music and lavish, animated introductions as you jumped into the cockpit, R-Type Final starts each mission with no more than a bleak quote from the unnamed pilot you control or a member of your oppressed race—completely devoid of the sense of glory encouraged by its predecessors. The dark and somber mood of the music, setting and story depict a world resigned of hope, scraping together the remnants of the once-fiery war effort for a swinging, wild punch through the haze of defeat in the hope that it may strike home. Most of the levels in the game, despite executing very competent shoot-em-up level design, also induce feelings of aloneness and isolation though masterful combinations ambient electronic music and set-piece timing and journeys through arid deserts and the featurelessness of deep space. Having said that, there are still plenty of R-Type’s signature crawls through claustrophobic caverns bristling with Bydo baddies, which do their important part in creating the tense, controller gripping moments that are so central to the genre.

As well as this general tone there are a number of eerie encounters in the game included for the fans, such as the overrun research laboratory that houses famous horrors from previous R-Types, or finding the R-13 Cerberus that was taken by the Bydo in R-Type Delta deep in the belly of a dank cavern, fondled by the fleshlike fronds an unknown organic beast. Other ways this mood is conveyed are less overt—and quite surprising. One of the centerpieces of the game is the Hangar, which (with a lot of unlocking) will house 101 different models of spacecraft; all of which have different characteristics and can be piloted in the game. This is one of the most enjoyable places to hang out when playing R-Type Final, not only because of the ability to browse all of these ships (including every ship from every game that Irem has ever made and a lot more), but because it is also a warehouse of information. Each ship in the hangar has a description regarding the technical development of the ship; thus giving us a peek into the lives of the scientists and engineers desperately trying to counter the Bydo threat. As time goes on and you inevitably unlock some of the more advanced prototypes you get a true feeling for this desperation: many of the later models are much less restrained in their control of the Bydo component of the craft’s technology, and the extent of their madness is realized: horrific-looking, pulsating, fleshy creations that represent mankind’s willingness to achieve victory no matter the moral consequences.

Ultimately, though, it’s the feeling of death and hopelessness that accompanies any of the three endings that serve the final blow. The “normal” ending, assuming you do all of the things that the game wants you to, ends up with you facing off against the largest of the Bydo after one of the weirdest levels in shoot-em-up history. After lodging your Force Bit inside the behemoth, the glass on your HUD cracks, warning lights go off and the screen shudders, leaving you to begin the tense, minute-long charge up of the last shot your Wave Cannon will fire. Meanwhile, the area is in turmoil—the wounded Bydo is obscured by a twirling mass of metal and organic matter encroaching slowly on your position. Finally you are able to release the shot that will destroy the Bydo core and end the game. After the shot is fired and strikes home, the game immediately scrolls the credits. The camera gently swoops around your broken ship, now useless, as you drift through space. No way to get home, no fanfare. Ouch.

It’s more complicated than that, though. When this game was being made, it was from the outset designed to be the final R-Type in the series. I imagine, for people who had followed the series, that this game is something like a funeral—not only a poignant modern day reminder of the wonderful moods and the exciting gameplay past champions of this genre have given us, but that they deserve, finally, an honorable way to be put to rest.

No, there’s no particular reason, this is just a picture of a cup in the shape of Jack Skellington’s head in Black and White. I guess I could use it to neatly segue into something to do with the undead in general, but that would just be cheesy.

Although now I think about it, I was just obliterating literal hordes of the undead last night! In Saint’s Row 2!
I know! Of all games – Saint’s Row 2? THAT one? The stupid GTA-clone rip-off? Wait, you were playing it? You bought it?

Yes, I did. It gets worse. The Zombie Uprising minigame – a Romero-esque limited-ammo-unlimited-zombies scenario – is just one of the many excellent and surprisingly entertaining distractions the sequel has. Yes folks, it is with a heavy heart that I bring this news. I am disappointed to admit that Saint’s Row 2 is goddamned brilliant.

It’s the same kind of attraction that continually draws me to the lowest-of-the-low B-grade movies, the train-wreck fascination with the supremely stupid. Saint’s Row 2 takes great pains to make even the most mundane aspects of the gameplay interesting, providing positive feedback and rewards for things such as driving in the oncoming traffic lane and time spent on two-wheels while careening around, as well as more off-the-wall activities like jumping out of moving vehicles, being launched through the windshield of a car, or leaping from buildings to your death. These things are, of course, just a dash of spice – there to add a little something extra to a mixture already knee-deep in the idiot-sauce. Any game that has a series of missions where you need to drive around on fire for as long as possible or get in a septic tank truck and spray poo on buildings has fairly clearly stated its mental age. Let’s see.. you can also dress your gang members up like clowns – or mimes! Or whatever! You can get ninjas for bodyguards. Ninjas. I really liked the first game, but this – this is ridiculous. It improves on the sequel in so many unimaginably insane ways – it gives the fans everything they asked for and more. I wish it weren’t this way, I really do. Then I could keep writing about art-games like Shadow of the Colossus and lovingly crafted environments like those in S.T.A.L.K.E.R.; and, you know – bring some actual meaning to this blog. Sigh. Unfortunately, I’m having too much fun car-surfing and throwing myself in the path of traffic for insurance fraud money. I apologise. Please ignore me.