Konami Doesn’t Quite Care, but Bomberman Actually Makes Sense Under Their Wings
(If only they wore 'em better...)
Late to the party (as always, just like a proper 3rd-world gamer should) I finally got to try Super Bomberman R on Steam last week–it’s been sitting on my virtual shelf for some 6 months ‘cause my notebook couldn’t run it properly by the time I bought it. After a cheap video card upgrade it turns out I still can’t play it; as the huge “FPS” red warning sign bizarrely splattered over my playfield insists to inform me, we’ve got frame rate issues. It makes no sense whatsoever: a player experiencing some bad frame rate would notice it right off the bat, as opposed to a player with minor hiccups being able to play the game without having their attention called to the matter so intrusively; “visual cues for already noticeable visual issues'' are hard to cope with. Anyways (end of rant), after learning from fellas in the store page’s discussion forum that the thing could be disabled, I went to dabble with the game’s video options a bit, but yet the results were too muddy for my high myopic/astigmatic ol’ man’s eyes. Unfortunately, it got dropped once again.
My Bomberman itch was already triggered though, and I recalled I still had a couple unplayed series-related carts in my collection. I figured I should try the oldest of the bunch (1990) first, Nintendo’s portable spin on it–close enough to the original’s core gameplay that’s not much of a spin “off”--aptly called Bomber Boy in Japan–or, confusingly, Dynablaster in Europe; or, ridiculously, Atomic Punk in the US (the famous “90’s attitude” was off to a good start).
As I played through the game (while… writing a FAQ on it? along the way) it came to mind how sad I was to fire R up and see Konami’s (specially in its current evil form) splash screen instead of the traditional Hudson Soft mascot bee’s one. I know Konami swallowed them whole about 10 years ago, but we’re rarely reminded of that–I only fully realized it when I first downloaded Pixel Puzzle Collection (Konami’s stab at Picross) on my Android some 4 years ago and saw an entire “Bomberman” section in their encyclopaedia.
Past the bitter gut reaction though, after giving the matter some thought, I realized Bomberman’s push-pull dynamics fit classic Konami’s design philosophy perfectly (not that they care about such dismissible details these days, but still).
Historically, Konami’s risk/reward progression system could be summed as “Darwinian”: crushing power to the fittest–until they screw it, that is; if that’s the unfortunate case, back to square one with them. And that’s exactly the paradox with such a fine balance line: piling power ups equals improving a player’s chance of survival as much as it boosts their confidence. Losing it all to a silly mistake–and snapping out of a good dream with nothing more than a peashooter amidst pure chaos, as usually happens in a Gradius or Contra play session–can hurt both a player’s morale and their pocket all the same (maybe those early quarter munching machines weren’t that different from their current pachinko counterparts after all–at least when it comes to purpose).
That system per se is so powerfully compelling that it could be said it deeply defined Konami’s overall approach on making games–even when that doesn’t seem to be the case: in Iga's Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, for instance, Alucard is stripped of all his gear a few minutes into the journey–but not before the player gets a taste of his almighty form in action. Back to peashooter mode, the game is set off to a terrific start–and a very Konamic one too.
Well, turns out Bomberman games–at least the old-school ones I’m apt to mumble about–feel exactly the same.
Small idiosyncrasies aside, power-ups are cumulative here too; and a player may reach that sweet “overconfidence spot” unleashing their mile-long chain-reacted explosive potential–until the proverbial silly mistake shows up in the form of “self-corner” death, of course. Surpassing that point and making the game bend its knees (aka “slowdown syndrome”) under the fittest player’s ungodly wrath is also possible here–just like Vic Viper spilling its missile beans and rippling the screen off, enemies and obstacles alike (with a cohort of Options doing just the same x4), glowing inside a blue Force Field aura, an impervious-to-fire Bomberman player armed with a Remote Control can melt entire levels–walls and enemies alike–in slow Hollywoodian fashion, as if walking down the street with their sunglasses on.
In a different timeline Konami would be the ideal parent company for saving Hudson Soft. Lately though, we can only hope developers and designers on both sides can nod their heads at their colleagues respectfully, as if celebrating better times–when exchanging quarters for fun was a craft of its own.