Okami: downplaying combat
I’ve logged another fifteen hours in Okami since my last post, and I’ve been thinking about how it compares to director Hideki Kamiya’s stated influence, the Legend of Zelda series.
To be sure, there is significant overlap. Consider:
A silent hero destined to save the world teams up with a garrulous sprite-like being and begins an epic quest. Together they slay monsters, assist townsfolk with their frivolous errands, and fight through dungeons — which, serendipitously, always yield items and skills applicable to the task at hand. After gathering strength and garnering approval from gods and men, they dispel the evil forces in a terrible battle and restore peace.
And that’s just the high-level stuff — there’s also the collectible life meter items, the ability to magically control the flow of time, the largely superfluous fishing minigame…
Okami most obviously distinguishes itself through its environment — both because of Ameratsu’s interaction with it, and because of its fantastic art direction. But as I’ve played more I’ve come to appreciate how the gameplay diverges from the Zelda games as well, especially regarding combat.
The Zelda series has seen an ongoing compartmentalization of combat. It began with the addition of towns in A Link to the Past and has continued in nearly every game since — with more non-battle events happening in the overworld, there is an ever greater separation between the RPG-like elements above ground (shopping, talking to townspeople, running silly errands) and the adventure elements down in the dungeons (fighting, puzzle-solving, acquiring new tools/skills). In newer Zelda titles, it’s possible to largely ignore overworld combat by riding Epona.
Okami takes this further by shifting the focus away from dungeons and combat altogether. An item available early in the game allows the player to avoid all pseudo-random battles, and while Zelda-style dungeons do exist, they are rare (and simple to the point of linearity). I still remember the conceit of every Zelda dungeon I’ve played (who could forget the Poes in Ocarina’s Forest Temple?), but I’d be hard-pressed to do the same for Okami. The dungeons here, it seems, are a concession to the adventure game format, a place to include a boss fight when the plot requires one. They are not memorable gameplay events.
The upshot is that it’s often possible to progress through the story for an hour or more without getting into a single fight. Instead, the game makes more extensive use of what I think of as “overworld stuff” to drive the plot — talking to townspeople and running their silly errands goes a long way in Nippon.
None of this is to say that Okami gives short shrift to combat, or that the Zelda series is nothing more than a series of swordfights. The difference is palpable, though, and reflects Okami’s thematic focus on life and rejuvenation.
Thanks for giving me a nice excuse to think about Okami and Zelda today – the world just got a bit brighter. :-)
I wonder if you see a kind of creeping melancholy in the Zelda games that has grown over the evolution of the series? Okami has a bit of this too, often communicated through the music as I recall (it’s been awhile since I played it). It feels to me like the Zelda games are thematically more ambitious than Okami, but this may simply be a reflection based on my awareness of the series as a whole. As much as I loved Okami – adored it really – I didn’t feel as emotionally connected to Ameratsu as to Link. Curious to know if you had a similar or different experience.
Hey Michael. Glad to see you’re still around. :-)
Your comment about thematic ambitiousness resonates with me. I’ve had a post kicking around in my head since before I started this site about how the Zelda series manages to accomplish so much with such sparse material. There’s nothing I can point to as an example of stellar storytelling or characterization, but the minimalist sketches we get are well-suited to the game’s thematic underpinnings. (I’m thinking now of the scene where Saria gives Link her ocarina — we barely know her at that point, but I found that moment incredibly poignant.)
Okami takes a much brasher approach with its storytelling, and while that’s enjoyable in its own way it doesn’t evoke the same ineffable quality that the Zelda games do. Does that make sense? I know it’s a bit half-baked, but that’s why I haven’t written that post yet. :-)
In any case, I definitely see the growing melancholy in the Zelda series, most obviously in Twilight Princess. I don’t get that sense from Okami because of the generally lighthearted atmosphere, though there were a few somber moments (the scenes in Kamiki Village that precede the first battle with Orochi come to mind).
I definitely agree that Link inspires a stronger emotional connection that Ameratsu, but I don’t know what to make of that. Part of me wants to chalk it up to years of familiarity. If there is an ineffable quality to the Zelda games, though, maybe it manifests itself in the strength of its characters.
I wonder also if there is a connection to the mythology that has becomes Link. We all have that moment of nostalgia and recollection which inherently ties to our response to the future games. For instance, our reluctance to seeing him voiced, or, for some, seeing him as expressive as he was in Wind Waker.
Have yet to play Okami, but I wonder if we’d bring a different gravitas and emotional draw from it if we were better versed in the particular style of art upon which it draws.
That’s very true, Denis. Link’s reputation precedes him, and the whole Zelda experience (the music, the sound effects, the towns, the Master Sword) is designed to evoke that nostalgia you mention.
I get the feeling that Okami would like to assume this same level of audience familiarity, but without the strong reputation its faux-epic and whimsical characters come off as somewhat cloying. As the game progresses it becomes clear that it deserves our confidence, but the lack of familiarity still colors the experience.
A perhaps related thought that I had: I’m used to categorizing the terrain of RPGs and adventure games in terms of towns / overworld / dungeons, but, as you say, dungeons aren’t nearly as important in Okami as in other games from the genre. And the distinctions between town and overworld (and, in one delightful example, dungeons) are blurry indeed here.
Anyways, I just love the fact that you can level up in the game by feeding animals and growing flowers.
This is a tangential point related to the combat, but I think it relates.
While the dungeons are not as ingeniously-designed as the Zelda dungeons are (and this is a pretty high standard) they do have their good moments along the way.
Also, although the combat is more segregated in Okami I really enjoyed the path they took. Not only did I enjoy the basic mechanics of jumping around and attacking (the speed and tempo are pleasingly viceral), but Okami also really has this great diversity in its enemy design (both visually and mechanically). Individual enemy types are kind of like “puzzles”– you need to draw on your repetoire of attacks and brush techniques to defeat each one. I thought this aspect of the game kept the combat very fresh.
Thanks for the link to your essay, David. It’s neat how you were writing about this two years ago, but we can roll your thoughts right into this discussion without a hitch. Blogs are great. :-)
I too enjoyed the blurred lines between towns, dungeons, and the overworld. As oyu mention, dungeons like the Moon Cave have town-like elements (NPCs to talk to, for example), and towns such as Agata Forest have enemies roaming around.
Actually, now that I think about it, Twilight Princess did something similar with Snowpeak Ruins — the “dungeon” that’s actually some poor couple’s house. I think Okami takes it to another level, though.
Iroquois: I like your analysis of the battle system as a series of puzzles. Perhaps that’s why I sensed that combat was downplayed; it was a greater test of my memory and problem-solving than of my reflexes. That said, I didn’t mean to suggest that I don’t enjoy the combat or the dungeons; I just don’t consider them a central part of the gameplay, as I do with the Zelda series. I can imagine Okami without dungeons much easier than Ocarina of Time.
Yeah, good point about Snowpeak Ruins.
About discussions spanning years: indeed, blogs are great. :-) That’s one of the things that bothers me the most about video game coverage right now: everybody wants to be part of a conversation, but that only happens right as a game is launched. I totally know where your tweet about whether it’s still worth discussing Braid was coming from, but it’s a completely ridiculous situation to be in!
The VGC is a good start for that: I’m really enjoying actively discussing old games with people. But with books, I can talk to people about books that were written decades (centuries, millennia) ago and that one or the other of us has read years ago. And I’m hoping that blogs can be part of moving the video game conversation in that direction: if we play enough old games, blog about them, and toss links back and forth, then we can have a conversation about games that spans years.