Today’s topic is mechs and Nintendo. Let’s start with mechs. Mechs. Mechs, mechs, mechs. I’ve grown up watching mech shows my whole life. When I was five or six, I used to watch a show called Force Five, which consisted of five popular mecha anime from the ‘70s, each one with a different approach to the mech genre.
I can’t say I remember a whole lot about these shows, but two of them were Getter Robo and Dangard Ace. There were two more that I don’t remember the names of, and one last show that I don’t remember at all, from the list of five. That said, all of these shows did instil one idea in me that has stayed ever since: mechs = customization.
Getter Robo especially really drilled this point home. Depending on the situation, three smaller aircrafts could combine into one larger mech. One would make up the head, one the torso, and one the legs. Depending on how the three of them combined together, you would end up with one of three configurations—Getter Liger, Getter Dragon or Getter Poseidon. How the three protagonists chose to combine with one another depended on the situation at hand. My favourite of the three was Getter Dragon at the time.
As I grew older, I began to watch other mecha anime. Saber Rider and the Star Sheriffs came next. A few years after that came Ninja Robots (known to some as Ninja Senshi Tobikage).
This was the one that broadened my love for mechs to encompass something more than just the idea of “they’re so cool!”. See, Ninja Robots played with the concept of mechs having a will of their own. They weren’t exactly “alive” or “sentient” but they were... aware. They understood whether or not someone was “worthy” (or perhaps capable) of piloting them, and they would react accordingly. Not worthy? Don’t even bother getting in the cockpit. You wouldn’t be able to lift a single mechanical finger. But if you were worthy, these hulking beasts would obey your every command.
It extended beyond just being aware of their pilots, too. In Ninja Robots, the good guys used three special mechs, each one themed after a lion, falcon and dragon. While the three mechs—referred to in the English dub as “gold ninja,” “red ninja” and “blue ninja”—were all were capable machines, in times of desperation, a fourth mech dubbed “Cybertron” would appear out of nowhere to combine with one of the three. Cybertron was far tinier than the three ninjas, and he actually did seem sentient. He would always show up at the most opportune moments and usually end up lending a hand to pilot that needed his help most. Upon combining with one of the three ninjas, he would turn them into their themesake(?)—a golden lion, a crimson falcon and a blue dragon.
Here’s the catch, though—while Cybertron clearly was powerful and a true saviour in times of need, he wasn’t infallible. He’d get his butt kicked on some occasions, and on others, his help wouldn’t really make much of a difference at all, because the enemy faction’s plan was just that devious and brilliantly schemed. Still, he was a force to be reckoned with and a thorn in their side, and they needed to deal with him somehow.
It took a while for this to happen. Eventually, a member of the enemy faction that had always displayed a misguided sense of righteousness and ambition—a fantastic combination for building character—snapped. Faced with Cybertron at his most powerful, he fought tooth and nail regardless, for the sake of his pride and his ambition, in a far weaker machine. As he found himself defeated and on the brink of death, a second mech flew out of the good guys’ ship—presumably from the same secret compartment that Cybertron was hidden in—and pledged itself to him.
This mech (which looked horrendously badass, btw) was almost assuredly drawn to this character’s ambition and pride, unlike Cybertron, who seemed to respond to different emotions, such as the desire to protect something or someone. Dubbed “the Mantis,” this mech was clearly Cybertron’s opposite number. The yang to his yin. You didn’t get the sense he was evil (although, he sure looked it), but he clearly wasn’t meant to represent the same ideals that Cybertron did.
And so, Ninja Robots instilled a second idea in my head regarding mechs: that they had personalities. Now, one could say all machines have personality. I’ve heard people talk about their cars as though they were real people, but Ninja Robots said mechs were far beyond that. They weren’t sentient or all-knowing or anything of of the sort, but they were built to respond to emotions. They were machines that would react to how their pilots were feeling, and in that sense, they were almost a natural extension of the pilot’s body. Similar to how the human body reacts quicker when you’ve got the adrenaline pumping, these mechs seemed as though they could sense when they needed to give that little bit extra.
By the time I was 12, my love for mechs had been cemented, and this was before I’d watched a single Gundam show. As the years went by, that love for mecha anime spilled over into my love for videogames, and I found myself obsessed with the Virtual-On series. Like any good mecha anime, Virtual-On fetishized its mechs. It gave you the impression that each one was unique, built for a distinct purpose, and would function differently in the hands of different pilots. Little back-stories in the game's manual provided further insight on each of the mechs, and helped make things feel a little bit more personal when you picked out your favourite.
Sadly, Virtual-On originated as an arcade fighting game, which meant that there really wasn’t much of a scope for storytelling. And so, one waited and waited and waited for somebody to release a good mech game with a story that reignited that same passion that Ninja Robots had.
Xenogears had been too long ago, and it looked butt ugly by modern standards, so one couldn’t possibly subject oneself to that. XenoSaga had started out decently enough, but had lost its way by the second game, and since I'd gotten in on the PS2 scene a little late, I didn't have the patience to sit through it, having heard of the complaints and complications. Zone of the Enders was supposedly somewhat decent, but filled with too much Kojima-esque bullshit, and I've never been a fan of his work beyond Metal Gear Solid 1. And Amored Core was more about heavy, clunky mechs, rather than the cooler, slicker designs that one had grown up loving all their life. And so, the wait continued for many a year.
****
January 23rd, 2013.
The day of reckoning.
The day the universe would have to answer for its lack of mech games.
And boy, did it answer.
On Wednesday (a fucking Wednesday!), January 23rd, 2013, Nintendo president Satoru Iwata dropped the biggest bombshell in the history of bombshells. This was the man that had revealed Monster Hunter 4 for the Nintendo 3DS, Bayonetta 2 as a Wii U exclusive, and had, just moments prior, announced a crossover between Shin Megami Tensei and Fire Emblem. Iwata was no stranger to bombshells. But on this day—the Wednesday to end all Wednesdays—he had brought his A-game.
Iwata revealed that Monolith Soft, developers of Xenoblade, one of the best RPGs to come out of Japan in years, were working on a brand new title. It seemed to involve a mech... one that could transform into a bike. It seemed to take place in a giant open world. It looked like the meticulously-bred child of Xenoblade, Xenogears and Monster Hunter. On “Wednesday,” Iwata brought the Internet to its knees with the announcement of project X, which, as of this writing a year later, does not have a name yet. You can watch a trailer for this game just above.
Well, the first trailer anyway. Not the trailer.
You see, this first trailer teased a mere peek at the glory this game will undoubtedly embody when it is finally released. Trailer #1 told us there will be an open world filled with giant monsters. It told us there will be a mech that can transform. And if you watched closely, it looks like the game will also borrow fairly heavily from Xenoblade’s battle system and build upon it in some way. But that’s all it told us. It got one excited, but it didn’t ignite the passion (TM). That came half a year later, at E3 2013, where Iwata showed off trailer #2 for project X.
Trailer #2 (above) had it all. Mechs. Lots of stylish, godly, gorgeous looking mechs. An upbeat, heartfelt theme song. A look at the world. A tease of online multiplayer. And most importantly, the tiniest hint of a story.
If you watched closely, the mechs in trailer #2 were called “Dolls”. Given Monolith Soft’s obsession with religion and mythology, and creative director Tetsuya Takahashi’s fascination with mechs, this could only mean one thing—these mechs were probably alive. Probably. Takahashi’s team dropped that little tidbit of info in there for people to zero in on. You don’t just call a hulking piece of metal a “Doll” for nothing. No, these were something more. Were they marionettes? Were they sentient? Did they have the soul of a human trapped inside them or something? Who knows. We’ll find out whenever X—hopefully, they find a suitable name for it by then—is released.
But in the meantime, the two trailers for X are the sole reason a lot of people are interested in a Wii U. They’re so blatantly, lovingly Japanese. In an era where anime has taken a downward turn and Japanese publishers are attempting to realign themselves to better suit western tastes, Monolith Soft and Nintendo are making one of the most Japanese games anyone has seen in years. And if it turns out anything like Xenoblade, it’s going to be one of the best games we’ve ever played in years, too.
To say I’m excited would be an understatement. X embodies everything I love about Japan and about my life. It embodies the genre that got me into anime and eventually manga and videogames. It embodies the kind of upbeat, high-pitched, idealistic J-pop I love so much. It embodies the ‘90s, which were some of the most fun years of my life. It takes mechs and fetishizes them in a way that such few games do any more. The scene at the start, where the pilot wraps his fingers around the control stick. The shot soon after, where the mech comes to life. the scene three-fourths of the way through the trailer, where two mechs are sitting in the grass atop a cliff, as a third takes off, their pilots presumably enjoying a moment of peace in their giant metal mounts.
X is everything one could possibly hope for, from a good piece of mecha media. The fact that each mech has a significantly different design means that each one is built for a different purpose and has its own personality. If I’m reading the hint in the trailer correctly, the red one at the start is called aptly dubbed “Inferno”. Inferno looks like a lightweight mech, so I’m going to assume he’s low on armour, but high on speed and agility. Meanwhile, another mech partway through the trailer—the one that converts into a buggy of sorts—looks far bulkier. I’m going to assume that one’s built to serve as the heavy artillery. And then, there’s another white mech, that looks like it’s somewhere in between. What’s that one for?
There are just so many possibilities. Is each of these mechs going to have its own little backstory about how it came to be? Or are they merely tools of war, developed by man to face an alien threat? Either way, the fact that they’ve been given names means there’s bound to be at least some meat on the bones to appeal to mech enthusiasts. Now, I’m no mech otaku, but I do love mechs regardless, and this trailer got me in all the right places. I just hope the actual game is as good as I’m expecting it to be.
No comments:
Post a Comment