There’s a cruel absence of authors proper in videogames. In this colossal studio system driven by numbers, individuals are crushed by collective needs of success, creators’ personalities ultimately shaped according to corporate mission statements, creative juices sugar-coated for added punch and then gently filtered to appeal to carefully designed target audiences. It’s a dismal system, with only the tiniest of cracks left open for authors to slide through and show their true aspirations. Which is exactly where “Deadly Premonition” (also known for the more accurate and appropriate Japanese title, “Red Seeds Profile”) comes in. Much has already been said about it, its cult status rocketing sky-high throughout the dark meanders of the internet, achieving virulent success thanks to heated debate, devote worship and venomous criticism. The constant, whether one hates or loves the game, is its creator, SWERY (aka Hidetaka Suehiro). You will find no article around that does not mention this name, and the reason for that fact makes itself pretty clear when you get to play the game – it brims personality… his personality. And he’s got tons of it, for a fact.

SWERY’s eccentricity found its natural habitat in Lynch’s surreal exposé on the mystic backwaters of the American landscape. In “Twin Peaks”, the mysterious veil surrounding these rural settings provided a fertile ground for a nightmarish deconstruction of society; in “Deadly Premonition” it serves as an escapist backdrop to SWERY’s personal reveries – his movie tastes, hobbies and teenager crushes, his typically Japanese perversions, even going as far as his childhood traumas (whether real or imagined, one can only guess). He divulges these with a smile, so as long as he can confess another of his idiosyncrasies in this delightful pop-artifact. The result is, more often than not, extremely funny. How often can one drive through the countryside, admiring the soothing northwestern scenery… while listening to mad, Tarantinoesque cinephile ramblings on everything from “Jaws” to “Body Snatchers”, enunciated by a certified crazy FBI agent, half Mulder, half Cooper, blabbering away as he talks to an unbodied alter-ego named Zach? Well, such a scene is indeed evocative of Kojima’s best work, though the difference here is that SWERY is completely free to pursue every insane, wacky line of thought, far from being chained to a never winding military saga about genes and memes and old guys who like to smoke.

The game itself paves homage, in SWERY’s own perverse logic, to videogames. The town of Greenvale, for example, is conjured as a middle-ground between “Shenmue’s” intimate characterization of space and character with “Grand Theft Auto’s” sense of open scale. Much of the game’s appeal comes precisely from the ability to explore the scenario, indulging in its unique sense of place and weird details; more often than not, there is vicious satire hiding beneath these. Take the overarching score system, which awards money for practically every in-game action – a noisy HUD meta-score dominates the screen with large numbers, and an iconic ‘ca-ching’ sound punctuates the added fun! – it’s interactive humor at its best, downright non-sensical, as well as a dead-on criticism to the vapid logic of contemporary ‘gamification’. There’s also the simulationist absurdity of having your facial hair grow if left unchecked or the voyeuristic possibility of spying on villager’s lives with a peeping tom ability. Wonderful. And it all comes together, thanks to an enticing and dramatic (if completely screwball) storyline with bizarre characters and a creepy Lynchian atmosphere, given body by unsettling visual and aural compositions (Hitoshi Okamoto and Riyou Kinugasa et al, respectively).

It’s a labour of love if we ever saw one, and one which a small budget couldn’t stop from being an aesthetic treat. That it managed to sell hundreds of thousands of copies whilst maintaining much of its author’s whims intact is a blessing. Compromises were definitely made, most notorious of which the absurd “Resident Evil 4” combat system dominating the gameplay landscape, in a clear nod of submission to the western-minded. However, such caveats have become the bread and butter of the videogame enthusiast, and one must necessarily downplay their nefarious effect and be thankful of the good that comes with each title. If there is a truly relevant flaw worth mentioning, is that though SWERY is a lovable weirdo we would like to hear more from, he is far from being an artistic genius with something truly relevant to say. Nonetheless, “Deadly Premonition” is one of the most original, strange, and surprising experiences to be had in many a year, and to anyone who ever doubted, startling proof that auteur theory can also apply to videogames.

score: 4/5

Forget the arrogant statement of adaptation to the classic “Journey to the West”, for such relationship is merely cosmetic: Alex Garland’s neo-environmentalist tale in “Enslaved” is a post-apocalyptic cliché on the destruction of the world by way of Man and his technology. The tone is ripped straight from TV documentary “Life After People” and the narrative proper is fascist hollywood methodology: all style and fanfare, zero emotional depth (Freeman’s emotioneering guidelines come to mind). However, ironic as it may sound, the thematic choice has more to say about “Enslaved”, the videogame, than its preposterous view of Mankind’s future. For like its character Monkey, Tameem Antoniades (director) believes that it is in the process of acknowledging the ways of the past, that the future can be won. History is therefore the key to enlightenment – such notion is insightful and appropriate for a medium that far too often has neglected its unsung heroes and crowned its greatest of villains.  And at least initially, one gets the distinct feeling that Antoniades understands this truth.

Using “ICO” as the emotional core for its aesthetic, as well as basis for the empathic relationship between protagonists was undoubtedly a step in the right direction.  Learning all the lessons from “Naughty Dog’s” action adventure library resulted in a balanced, if not perfect, exploration system. And choosing “God of War” as structural pillar for combat seems elementary these days. Others could be mentioned, suffice to say that Ninja Theory plays the student part well, and chose an agreeable (if highly debatable) canon to use in its pastiche. However, visions of the past are meaningless if nor properly dissected, and herein lies Antoniades failing as author. Not only did he not add anything unique to his citation jumble, as he only skimmed by the immediate past, overlooking unavoidable references. Even worse, he fails to blend them together so as to forge a new whole brimming with identity. Simply put, as an experience, “Enslaved” is lesser than the sum of its parts. Combat is intense but superficial, exploration is agreeable, but pointless. Pathetic western design ticks take the front stage far too often: in the noisy neon-colored HUD, in the absurd collectionism of shiny orbs (probably the worst appearance of such mechanisms since 2008’s Prince of Persia), in the lack of proper ludic challenge, and in the excessively directed level design – “do this, do that, have fun while you’re acting like a mindless robot“.

Surely, the aesthetic treatment is one of the richest in western titles this year – just a glimpse of the evocative landscapes and Trip’s face is enough to understand the care of the authors in this area. As always, Nitin Sawhney plays the part of composer with excellency, delivering another poignant soundtrack that makes everything seem more mysterious and deep than Garland’s down-to-earth writing imply. Aesthetically, there’s such good craftmanship here, it ends up justifying the very existence of “Enslaved”; it’s just a shame that the Unreal Engine’s colors and  comic-book visual tropes never allow it to bloom fully.

Like its crumbling environments, “Enslaved” is a dead eco of days gone by. Nature runs rampant across the landscape giving it a lush feel, but you never forget that is but a faint glimmer of life. Trapped in misunderstood accounts of the past, the game loses itself in its vague citations, its vain beauty and vacuous discourse. Not that it is a poor breed of entertainment, quite on the contrary, it is a very comfortable, instantly familiar, bright western title in these ill times of dark military fantasies. It simply lacks any appeal besides its  aesthetic, making it another of those fuzzy, amorphous memories of the past which lack strong emotional impressions. Antoniades is simply not that good an author (as “Heavenly Sword” also testifies), even when he limits himself at copying the best ideas that came before him. The medium’s past misunderstood means the way for the future is, yet again, ruined.

score: 3/5

Let no doubts arise, “Muramasa” is skin-deep – beneath its gorgeous pale skin and virtuous exterior, you’ll find nothing tangible to grasp. Mind you, it’s a beautiful, beautiful work as is, one which takes 2D sprites and crafts them into an art form in of itself. These are awe-inspiring paintings: whether it’s the soothing effect of watching the rural Japanese landscape bathed in warm sunset colors as the wind gently lulls the wheatfield, or cowering beneath the ominous moonlight over Japanese shiro castles in that tingling goth gloom, settings and characters are animated by true masters of this digital art. From the sumptuous color palettes, to the strong expressionist deformations that deeply underpin dramatic character, and above all, the rich aesthetic themes, all evoke classic and modern Japanese artworks, spreading their light into a new medium.

And yet, deep as its ostentatious vanity goes, it’s not a wholly unpleasant dame that wears “Muramasa’s” most lavish of kimonos. As long as one doesn’t think too much on what is lacking inside, the superficial delight it affords is fulfilling. Especially because, where “Odin Sphere’s” Norse meets Japanimation concept seemed somewhat artificial and plastic, “Muramasa’s” focus on traditional Japanese mythology makes it a slightly more honest, heartfelt endeavor. No matter how much “Vanillaware” studied Odin’s lands, it would always seem lost in translation, as they could never fully grasp its intricacies, let alone matching them with their own art-style and language, deeply rooted as they are in their culture. Now, the aesthetic side of “Muramasa” seems whole. Anime’s roots in traditional art flourish, the dramatic poise imposed by the 2D assets fits beautifully with the Kabuki theater narrative, and even the modern soundtrack (by Hitoshi Sakimoto, Masaharu Iwata et al) successfully plays with traditional instruments and sonorities to deliver rhythm and intensity to combat. And it is solely in the very heat of sword-brawling that you’ll be most often reminded of “Muramasa’s” failings as a videogame. Despite its one button elegance and fast pace, the game’s combat feels too drab, numb and saccharine, not to mention awkward for such an enticing theme and artistic background. Thankfully, the game’s short duration doesn’t allow it to become as tiresome as in “Odin Sphere”.

Never mind its offensive shallowness, you have to give credit to Kamitani for wearing his colors proudly, sticking to his authors’ legacy and continuing to create videogames his own way. In the end, that is what keeps him and his team high above their western-submissive peers. For only thus could he create one of the very few unique objects that have landed on a Wii. Like an endowed geisha, “Muramasa” entertains you with its art and music, stimulates you with its knowledge of culture and history, and charms you with its seductiveness and beauty… just don’t expect true love to come into the picture.

score: 3/5