Wrapping Up the Zelda/Okami Comparison
February 14th, 2010
With most of the analysis pushed to one side we can finally get down to what you really want to see: a fight off, Okami Vs Zelda: Twilight Princess.
I’m afraid that Gordon Freeman has killed my faith in the democratic system, so instead I’m going to state my views and maybe you can leave a comment, if I let you. ^_^ (No seriously, if you’ve played both games then please do weigh in).
Over a month ago, I made the following statement about Zelda: Twilight Princess in my 2009 wrap-up:
“Zelda for the conservatives, the game you were hoping for was made by Capcom and called Okami, you should go play it. Otherwise, engaging in a familiar way, no one does it better than the best.”
And I definitely stand by my assertion. Zelda: Twilight Princess, whilst a standout game, innovates minutely, intentionally adhering to the traditional formula and visual style as requested by fans. By ditching the principles of the Wind Waker, Link and Nintendo ate their souls, their souls!!
And so I still feel crushed.
Okami is therefore something of a spiritual sequel to Wind Waker, while Twilight Princess is unashamedly the sequel to Ocarina of Time. Okami innovates in areas where one would’ve expected Twilight Princess to. Plus, Issun is my favourite video game character ever, a fact which I only last considered when I was 7 years old (and for reference, Wario was my former favourite character).
And yet “no one does it better than the best”.
It’s ironic then that I actually prefer Zelda: Twilight Princess. Ironic on many levels:
- My preference suggests that I’d prefer Ocarina of Time 2 over Wind Waker 2
- I’d consider Okami as the game which advances the genre, whereas Twilight Princess is the pinnacle of the Zelda series
- I have left-wing political views and am yet vouching for a game which idealises conservatism
- I feel that Issun is an invariably better side-kick than Midna, even though majority supports the opposing view
- Amaterasu has more personality than (human) Link, even though Ammy is a wolf
As great as Okami is, as I analysed in my prior post, Okami feels so lethargic that it drags the whole experience down. On top of that, Okami cut player morale early on with the confusing fake finale—we’re emotional creatures and Okami‘s “betrayl” soured my interest.
Despite my temperament, Zelda: Twilight Princess has only ever worked in win me over, it’s frankly a giant dose of well-iterated comfort food; 60hrs of the most refined and enjoyable adventuring this industry has come to know. Sure, I felt bothered by the tricky roadblocks, but I never felt discontent. Zelda: Twilight Princess is a meal that was both delicious and filling. Okami was also a great meal, but one that filled me up too quickly and burnt my lip.
Zelda, Okami and The Question of Stamina
February 12th, 2010
The similarities between Okami and Zelda: Twilight Princess are incredible, to say the least. More so, after you’ve considered the calibre of their developers and the close proximity in which the two games were released. I mean all this from a primarily contextual level, rather than a structural and mechanical level, mind you. The most interesting difference, I’ve found, has been the effect that the 40+ hour journeys leave on their players.
Twilight Princess took me an incredible 62hrs to complete with basically all the side quests completed. Okami took me about 42hrs to complete, with significant portion of the side quests mostly completed too.
Twilight Princess feels appropriately sized. Indeed, it’s a HUGE quest, don’t get me wrong there, but one which can be overcome. Okami‘s story, on the other hand, feels like a burden and leaves the player reeling from its lethargic length. The contention is simple: why does Okami‘s endearing length work against the player and Twilight Princess‘ not?
The answer is also simple: the Zelda games are tacitly understood as a collection of units, whereas Okami is not (it’s continuous). This makes the Zelda games quantifiable and regimented, in turn making it easier to digest over a long play time, instead of feeling like the Never Ending Story.
Let’s unpack that a little, shall we?
In regards to Okami, what I mean by “continuous” is that Amaterasu follows a stream of connected areas linearly (ie. a river crossing->field->town->castle). The story is malleable, although generally keeps itself within this structure, with scenario’s starting and finishing within their selected area. Now, there is a goal in sight, collect the 13 brush strokes and destroy Orochi, however, brush strokes are sporadically dolled out, front-ended at the start of the game and then only very carefully handed out thereafter; in effect weakening the grip which the celestial brush has over the narrative. Furthermore—and yes, there will be spoilers ahead—the player is deceived into thinking that they’ve defeated Orochi (thereby completing the game), not just once, but twice. The implication of this tomfoolery is that it puts a damper on the rest—and by rest, I mean majority—of the experience, leaving the player with no clear indication on their progression. Personally, I felt left out of the lurch, decidedly distanced from the experience that I was keen to immerse myself in.
One could quite rightly argue that Zelda: Twilight Princess (and Ocarina of Time) also tricks the player, right? Well, yes, they do, however the trick does not allude to the game’s completion, Link doesn’t defeat Gannon at the start of the game, he defeats him at the end, the same cannot be said for Okami.
The initial 10hrs of Zelda:TP and Zelda:OOT are treated as prelude chapters. The end game is unclear and there are many absent spots in the player’s inventory, so the player suspects the game to open up at some time, but is uncertain. Zelda’s “gotcha moment” therefore works successfully then because:
- It confirms the player’s suspicions, thereby making them feel intelligent
- Establishes where the end game lies
- Since the player has already completed 3 dungeons, an understanding of length is formed
- In which case, the reveal more than likely will surprise the player since they have an understanding that another 8 dungeons equates to X amount of play time (ie. a lot)
More to the original point though, the Zelda games are laid out in units. For example, all of the questing and dungeon lurking required to restore Zora’s Domain can be treated as one unit of gameplay. Usually on completion of a unit, the player is reward with one of X number of collectables required to unlock the endgame. A field in the middle of the map indiscriminately connects the units which are presented in the form of various elemental/ethnic-themed areas. Although the world appears open-ended, the journey is linear (excluding Oracle of Ages) since the tools required to enter the some “units” cannot be gained until other ones are first completed. Dungeons, the highlight of each gameplay unit, provides a new piece of inventory which then become tutorialised and effectively mastered by the time the player downs the boss.
Zelda’s aforementioned structure works the player into a familiar routine which consists of visiting each area one-by-one, mastering the dungeon and gaining new inventory until they make a set of gems/stones/Triforce pieces. This systems, one that has been beaten into our brains, for some since childhood, overtly states progression. Progression is simply the number of gems you have contrasted against the number you don’t, a fact presented to the player every time the game is paused.
Okami‘s world, due to Zelda’s influential progression system, feels uneven. As a Zelda player, I break Okami‘s world into units, and am therefore trained to be systematically rewarded with new abilities after completing a set unit of gameplay. My problem, and the one which has resulted in so many players not seeing Okami through to its eventual end, is that often doesn’t reward players who are trained to be rewarded after certain intervals of play, only adding to the disdain left after the Orochi disillusion.
Furthermore, because Okami‘s ability set is mostly channelled through the celestial brush, upgrades can feel unsubstantial, further adding to the disappointment. Instead of a hookshot or a bow, you can draw a line which makes water fountain into platforms in select areas. Surprisingly, as the example suggests, the upgrades becomes increasingly one-dimensional as you progress.
The majority side quests too are collectathons which is why I didn’t bother pursuing them to completion, unlike Zelda’s extra curricula activities, most of which involve investigation and use of the various equipment.
Conclusion
Zelda’s rigid progression structure enforces a regimented, predictable rhythm of play which keeps the player’s progression conscious, unlike Okami which follows a continuous structure where progression is uncertain. As a result, Zelda: Twilight Princess, with its massive 60+hrs of play, seems beatable, piece by piece, whereas Okami‘s adventure seems to just continue with no end in sight, causing players to drop off.
This fundamental difference, one of stamina, is what I’d consider to be the strongest point which impacts on the player’s own experience with either game.
Defining Okami’s Individualism Part #2
February 9th, 2010
In the last exciting episode I began discussing some of the structural aspects which differentiate Okami from other games. This time I will continue the discussion, including the points which you probably expected would headline the previous article.
Lack of Road blocks
Zelda: Twilight Princess really threw me with its momentum. I started the game back on release in 2006, got stuck with the initial fishing mini-game (I’m still somewhat clueless, even though I’ve caught many a fish since) and settled for Red Steel instead. I returned in early 2007 and found myself regrettably stuck in the first dungeon. I left Twilight Princess until about 2008, where I’d made some leeway, pushing through another 6 hours of gameplay before being unable to defrost Zora’s domain. I scoured the land high and low and was still stuck, so I waited another year, 2009 by this stage, and after finally consulting a guide, the random, esoteric solution became clear. From there on out I kept working until Twilight Princess was beat. Often, during the final slog, I’d still find myself stuck again and again, thankfully the occasional dependence on a trusty guide helped me through.
Although Twilight Princess is supremely designed, these bumps in the road were large enough to keep me away for long amounts of time.
Okami is rarely like this. The path ahead is always clear. A large part of it is due to the reduction of challenge and open-endedness. Okami‘s segregated overworld narrows the opportunity to diverge down the wrong path. The dungeons too appear open-ended, but in truth are entirely linear. Okami also features fewer puzzles and rarely any that extend beyond a single room.
There’s a reason why the player feels as though they’re constantly making the right choice, it’s because Okami offers only one, while presenting the illusion of many. Hence my natural tendency to compare Okami to Zelda, when in fact Zelda achieves what Okami only alludes. As such, Okami is a very accessible adventure, yet at the same time makes the player feel satisfied.
Celestial Brush and the Environment
The beauty of the celestial brush is two fold. Firstly, the celestial brush ties the player’s actions to the environment in a meaningful manner which evokes positive feelings from the kinship displayed. Secondly, it streamlines the ability/inventory systems of games such as Zelda, by channeling all abilities through the single use of the celestial brush.
Through the celestial brush the player co-authors not just the avatar, but the environment too, which is pretty revolutionary. The player’s interaction with the game world is presented tangibly through the transformation of their surrounding environment into a much more appealing one, and therefore feels meaningful. Furthermore, the onus of this system rest on a singularly more favourable kind of player input, drawing, rather than being spread across an inventory of equipment.
Graphical Style
Being the visual embodiment of Okami‘s innovations, it’s understandable why people discuss thick-outlines and thatched patterns before they mention the gameplay itself, however, as my ordering supposes, I consider the other points, that of structural and mechanical divergences, to be considerably more important.
From my judgment, game enthusiasts seem rightly sceptical of cel-shading. You can’t really blame them considering the Cel Damages which abuse what the style connotes by using it without artistic purpose. When cel-shading is used purposefully though, be it stylistically, such as in Jet Set Radio or for facial expression and character establishment as in Zelda: Wind Waker, we’re usually quite content, if not thrilled. Okami‘s cel-shaded environment, alongside the thatching and line work are such an integral part of Okami‘s cultural authenticity and so deeply attached to the context, that we can’t help but adore it. Okami is probably the truest use of the technique yet.
The visual direction furthermore intertwines itself with the celestial brush mechanic, by highlighting the status of the environment, pinpointing the trouble spots needing subsequent strokes and then rewarding the player with an accentuated beauty.
Punchy Dialogue
Not much to add to the headline, Okami is densely packed with well written dialogue, in contrast to the majority of games which are poorly written. Unlike the Paper Mario/Mario and Luigi series, the dialogue itself isn’t ultra stylised (and sometimes difficult to read), rather every sentence has a minor word, expression or style which adds flavour to the text as a whole.
Level of Polish
What I think surprises many people about Okami is that it genuinely doesn’t ever let up. Every form of gameplay that Okami has you participate in is untechnical and enjoyable with a high degree of polish. Every character is distinct and memorable, each with multiple layers in which to interest you. Some characters I liked for their perky dialogue, some for their character designs and others for their ultra cute, garbled voice. There isn’t a single part of the game which is incomplete or requires additional iteration. Okami is a champion against the “we’ll fix it in the sequel” attitude which is permeating throughout the industry.
Conclusion
Okami‘s RPG/adventure gameplay has been claimed to be “Zelda-inspired”, and loosely speaking, one can claim that the two games have a similar sense about that. However, as evidenced over our eight points of argument, the fundamental differences, most crucially that of the overworld and ability/skills systems, differentiate Okami vastly from Zelda and in fact many other RPGs for that matter.
Next time we shall explore how these differences affect the player’s experience over these 40hr-long epics. If you’ve completed both of these games, I think that the analysis shall prove worthwhile.
Additional Reading
Three Artists in Okami – Versus CluClu Land
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