Resident Evil 4 has become a touchstone. Its years of enduring relevance and constant ports have obscured what it actually is; A 2005 GameCube game.
I recently did something I'd meant to do for years. I invested in my GameCube. For far too long, it's been ignored. A novelty device that had been made redundant by the Wii and Dolphin. The only reason to keep it was the far-off potential of maybe buying a Game Boy Player for the thing someday. I finally did it. And I got one of those expensive, aficionado-grade CSYNC RGB SCART cables after using washed-out third-party composite shite for years. It's all come flooding back.
In its day, I would have happily declared the GameCube to be my all-time favourite console. There were better games available for other systems, but after their first couple years, there was little sense of direction to the PS2 or SNES. They were too concerned with going after the audiences that the Xbox and Mega Drive brought into the market. The GameCube was a proud Nintendo console. They'd spent the N64 struggling to release any 3D games at all, and the bulk of its biggest hits were made by foreign companies who'd already got practice in 3D on PC games and Amiga demoscene stuff. By the GameCube, they'd caught up, but they weren't just going to trot out predictable 3D sequels. Everything had some weird, ambitious new twist that set it out. Metroid was first-person, Zelda was cel shaded and focused on expressive character animation, and Mario was, bizarrely, a game about spraying water in the tropics. Nothing was what you expected it to be, but seeing how frequently those games turned out well, it was thrilling. They completely earned my trust. Whatever stupid-looking mistake they announced, I was pretty sure it was going to be incredible by the time I actually played it.
One of their most exciting initiatives at the time wasn't in their own projects, though. It was in their third-party relationships. They'd dropped the ball with Japanese developers in the mid-nineties. Their demands were too limiting, their hardware was too complex and expensive to work with, and they'd become complacent in their dominance after the NES and SNES. Sony stepped in and ate their dinner, encouraging experimentation and allowing publishers to print games as they sold, rather than committing to bulk orders of thousands of expensive cartridges. Demographics took a back seat, and games became more of an expression of the creator's will. Nintendo must have been raging through this all of this, because by the time they were ready to make the GameCube, they were willing to pay out big to acquire exclusive Metal Gear, Final Fantasy and Resident Evil. That gave us Twin Snakes and fuckin' Crystal Chronicles. But Resi? That was a good investment.
Maybe not commercially, but culturally.
Mikami's discussions with Nintendo won him over to their vision of the industry. Before long, he was joining Miyamoto on stage to announce that Resident Evil was now a GameCube-exclusive franchise, reviving the abandoned N64 Resi 0 project and personally directing both a remake of the original game and the much-anticipated Resident Evil 4. Later, he'd also reveal his "Capcom Five" initiative, announcing GameCube exclusives, Viewtiful Joe, Dead Phoenix, P.N.03, killer7 and reassuring the audience that Resi 4 was coming along well and would be "scary than ever before". Mikami jumped head-first into the biggest logistical nightmare of his life. Slowly, the realities would creep in, and sacrifices would need to be made. Exclusivity promises would be discarded, P.N.03 would be rushed to release and Dead Phoenix would be scrapped entirely, but it didn't matter. All he really had to do was make sure Resi 4 would be the best game in the world. And by god, he did it.
I remember the day my pal's US import copy arrived. The European release wouldn't arrive until months later, and here we were, playing this game from the future. It totally felt like that. Enemies would duck and weave as you took shots at them, inventory management was now fun and compelling, and every 15 minutes the game would take some unbelievable new turn. You barely managed to get past the introductory village, but then you were fighting a giant, crushing houses underfoot, and an enormous lake monster, and then the standard enemies sprouted tentacles out their heads. It was a breathless experience, and every time you thought it was wrapping up, it introduced some mad, elaborate new section that you couldn't wait to jump into.
This review follows my first post-remake playthrough. The obvious differences between the two games are all entirely granted, and there were minor ommissions I totally forgot about (did you remember the Dark Souls/Deathtrap Dungeon swinging axe room?), but there were still substantive discoveries on top of that. It doesn't seem like nearly as dramatic a leap from the classic formula now. It's a perspective shift, progression is more nakedly linear, and the puzzles are barely even a part of the game, but it's old heavy Resi. Pick your spot, plant yourself there, and fire as the monsters close in. The knife button feels like such a welcome addition to the classic formula that they put it into the DS's Resi 1 remake, and instantly made it a bit of a pain in the arse to go back to earlier versions. So much of that old Resi appeal is here.
For all its wild contraptions, setpieces and ludicrous characters, the original Resi 4 is surprisingly restrained in its presentation. No, honestly. Quite often, large sections of the game - full of memorable little ideas - will play completely without music. The sound design's carried by the oozing tentacles, clanking suits of armour and shotgun blasts. Even when there is music, it's often subtle and atmospheric. Percussion and wailing. It's important that the things in the game feel impactful through everything layered on top. You always know how powerful this stuff is, even when there's flaming barrels and exploding towers all around you.
I also think the level design choices are consistently better in the original, too. Rooms are designed so you're always presented with a route through during hectic encounters. If you're supposed find a crucial puzzle piece when tensions are high, the structure and camera will make sure it's presented clearly to you. It's not so overt to be patronising, but not so obscure that you'll die over and over as long as you're not completely freaking out. It's just a cracking game that takes consideration for the breadth of players who will be getting through it.
I've often argued in favour of QTEs. Instances of direct engagement during elaborate action sequences that couldn't be fully realised within the limitations of regular gameplay. That's a fairly haughty position on the matter. Really, I like QTEs when they're in games that are happy to have a big laugh with them. Ryo Hazuki dodging the football, and that. At one point, you're shown a "RESPOND" prompt to lay Krauser with a retort as snappily as possible. They basically put the "TRENCHANT INSIGHT" button in this. I can't imagine that making Resident Evil 4 was even slightly as much fun as playing it, but there's moments in here that just make me picture the hysterical disbelief at the studio as they were put together. "Fucking hell, we can't seriously be doing this" - "Aye, we're fucking doing it. Come on." Even today, Production Studio 4 veterans are still laughing about the giant mechanical Salazar statue. As much warmth and good humour as there was in the remake, it was a people pleaser. I have so much more respect for the original's wilful disregard for its audience's demands.
It's also clear how well engineered the game was around the GameCube. I won't argue with anyone who say they can't go back further than the Wii Edition, but the button layout is such a good fit for this controller. Those face buttons almost seem like they were engineered with Mario in mind, but they never made a GameCube entry where you held B to run. Leon Kennedy's here to pick up Nintendo's slack. Those big triggers feel so great as you steady your aim or draw your knife. All the fiddly wee buttons are dedicated to the more intricate, cerebral actions like inventory and partner management, while all the lizardbrain shit is right under your fingers' resting spots. I haven't conducted the survey, but I don't think the folk who love this game the most are the ones who first played it on the PS2.
There are undeniable drawbacks to the 2005 release, though. As good a display as you can manage, you're still not seeing that lasersight when you're aiming more than 10 feet away. I'm not going to argue that loading screens and a mid-campaign disc swap make this version better, either, though they do warm the spot in my heart reserved for "Real Game Shit". Man, play whatever version of Resi 4 you like. You're not seriously considering buying the GameCube version if you're not already inclined to love it.
If you obsess over the creative process that brought these games to audiences, there's an appeal to getting as close to the source as you can. For the cultural touchstone it's become, there's a coherent logic to why, after multiple retreats to the drawing board, that this would be the game that would finally receive the "Resident Evil 4" title. How the action genre had progressed in the decade since the PS1 original's release, and Mikami's devotion to Nintendo's vision for the industry. It was always a mad gamble, and shifting market trends meant it stood as something of a martyr for the Japanese games industry for years after. Japanese audiences would drift away from consoles, western influence would radically shift the trajectories of big studios, and outspoken developers would be silenced as publishers chased US money. Nintendo had been right, though. They knew the strengths of Japanese developers, and with the Switch, global audiences are finally starting to side with them again. They were right. Mikami was right to side with them. And Resident Evil 4 is one of the best games ever made.
I recently did something I'd meant to do for years. I invested in my GameCube. For far too long, it's been ignored. A novelty device that had been made redundant by the Wii and Dolphin. The only reason to keep it was the far-off potential of maybe buying a Game Boy Player for the thing someday. I finally did it. And I got one of those expensive, aficionado-grade CSYNC RGB SCART cables after using washed-out third-party composite shite for years. It's all come flooding back.
In its day, I would have happily declared the GameCube to be my all-time favourite console. There were better games available for other systems, but after their first couple years, there was little sense of direction to the PS2 or SNES. They were too concerned with going after the audiences that the Xbox and Mega Drive brought into the market. The GameCube was a proud Nintendo console. They'd spent the N64 struggling to release any 3D games at all, and the bulk of its biggest hits were made by foreign companies who'd already got practice in 3D on PC games and Amiga demoscene stuff. By the GameCube, they'd caught up, but they weren't just going to trot out predictable 3D sequels. Everything had some weird, ambitious new twist that set it out. Metroid was first-person, Zelda was cel shaded and focused on expressive character animation, and Mario was, bizarrely, a game about spraying water in the tropics. Nothing was what you expected it to be, but seeing how frequently those games turned out well, it was thrilling. They completely earned my trust. Whatever stupid-looking mistake they announced, I was pretty sure it was going to be incredible by the time I actually played it.
One of their most exciting initiatives at the time wasn't in their own projects, though. It was in their third-party relationships. They'd dropped the ball with Japanese developers in the mid-nineties. Their demands were too limiting, their hardware was too complex and expensive to work with, and they'd become complacent in their dominance after the NES and SNES. Sony stepped in and ate their dinner, encouraging experimentation and allowing publishers to print games as they sold, rather than committing to bulk orders of thousands of expensive cartridges. Demographics took a back seat, and games became more of an expression of the creator's will. Nintendo must have been raging through this all of this, because by the time they were ready to make the GameCube, they were willing to pay out big to acquire exclusive Metal Gear, Final Fantasy and Resident Evil. That gave us Twin Snakes and fuckin' Crystal Chronicles. But Resi? That was a good investment.
Maybe not commercially, but culturally.
Mikami's discussions with Nintendo won him over to their vision of the industry. Before long, he was joining Miyamoto on stage to announce that Resident Evil was now a GameCube-exclusive franchise, reviving the abandoned N64 Resi 0 project and personally directing both a remake of the original game and the much-anticipated Resident Evil 4. Later, he'd also reveal his "Capcom Five" initiative, announcing GameCube exclusives, Viewtiful Joe, Dead Phoenix, P.N.03, killer7 and reassuring the audience that Resi 4 was coming along well and would be "scary than ever before". Mikami jumped head-first into the biggest logistical nightmare of his life. Slowly, the realities would creep in, and sacrifices would need to be made. Exclusivity promises would be discarded, P.N.03 would be rushed to release and Dead Phoenix would be scrapped entirely, but it didn't matter. All he really had to do was make sure Resi 4 would be the best game in the world. And by god, he did it.
I remember the day my pal's US import copy arrived. The European release wouldn't arrive until months later, and here we were, playing this game from the future. It totally felt like that. Enemies would duck and weave as you took shots at them, inventory management was now fun and compelling, and every 15 minutes the game would take some unbelievable new turn. You barely managed to get past the introductory village, but then you were fighting a giant, crushing houses underfoot, and an enormous lake monster, and then the standard enemies sprouted tentacles out their heads. It was a breathless experience, and every time you thought it was wrapping up, it introduced some mad, elaborate new section that you couldn't wait to jump into.
This review follows my first post-remake playthrough. The obvious differences between the two games are all entirely granted, and there were minor ommissions I totally forgot about (did you remember the Dark Souls/Deathtrap Dungeon swinging axe room?), but there were still substantive discoveries on top of that. It doesn't seem like nearly as dramatic a leap from the classic formula now. It's a perspective shift, progression is more nakedly linear, and the puzzles are barely even a part of the game, but it's old heavy Resi. Pick your spot, plant yourself there, and fire as the monsters close in. The knife button feels like such a welcome addition to the classic formula that they put it into the DS's Resi 1 remake, and instantly made it a bit of a pain in the arse to go back to earlier versions. So much of that old Resi appeal is here.
For all its wild contraptions, setpieces and ludicrous characters, the original Resi 4 is surprisingly restrained in its presentation. No, honestly. Quite often, large sections of the game - full of memorable little ideas - will play completely without music. The sound design's carried by the oozing tentacles, clanking suits of armour and shotgun blasts. Even when there is music, it's often subtle and atmospheric. Percussion and wailing. It's important that the things in the game feel impactful through everything layered on top. You always know how powerful this stuff is, even when there's flaming barrels and exploding towers all around you.
I also think the level design choices are consistently better in the original, too. Rooms are designed so you're always presented with a route through during hectic encounters. If you're supposed find a crucial puzzle piece when tensions are high, the structure and camera will make sure it's presented clearly to you. It's not so overt to be patronising, but not so obscure that you'll die over and over as long as you're not completely freaking out. It's just a cracking game that takes consideration for the breadth of players who will be getting through it.
I've often argued in favour of QTEs. Instances of direct engagement during elaborate action sequences that couldn't be fully realised within the limitations of regular gameplay. That's a fairly haughty position on the matter. Really, I like QTEs when they're in games that are happy to have a big laugh with them. Ryo Hazuki dodging the football, and that. At one point, you're shown a "RESPOND" prompt to lay Krauser with a retort as snappily as possible. They basically put the "TRENCHANT INSIGHT" button in this. I can't imagine that making Resident Evil 4 was even slightly as much fun as playing it, but there's moments in here that just make me picture the hysterical disbelief at the studio as they were put together. "Fucking hell, we can't seriously be doing this" - "Aye, we're fucking doing it. Come on." Even today, Production Studio 4 veterans are still laughing about the giant mechanical Salazar statue. As much warmth and good humour as there was in the remake, it was a people pleaser. I have so much more respect for the original's wilful disregard for its audience's demands.
It's also clear how well engineered the game was around the GameCube. I won't argue with anyone who say they can't go back further than the Wii Edition, but the button layout is such a good fit for this controller. Those face buttons almost seem like they were engineered with Mario in mind, but they never made a GameCube entry where you held B to run. Leon Kennedy's here to pick up Nintendo's slack. Those big triggers feel so great as you steady your aim or draw your knife. All the fiddly wee buttons are dedicated to the more intricate, cerebral actions like inventory and partner management, while all the lizardbrain shit is right under your fingers' resting spots. I haven't conducted the survey, but I don't think the folk who love this game the most are the ones who first played it on the PS2.
There are undeniable drawbacks to the 2005 release, though. As good a display as you can manage, you're still not seeing that lasersight when you're aiming more than 10 feet away. I'm not going to argue that loading screens and a mid-campaign disc swap make this version better, either, though they do warm the spot in my heart reserved for "Real Game Shit". Man, play whatever version of Resi 4 you like. You're not seriously considering buying the GameCube version if you're not already inclined to love it.
If you obsess over the creative process that brought these games to audiences, there's an appeal to getting as close to the source as you can. For the cultural touchstone it's become, there's a coherent logic to why, after multiple retreats to the drawing board, that this would be the game that would finally receive the "Resident Evil 4" title. How the action genre had progressed in the decade since the PS1 original's release, and Mikami's devotion to Nintendo's vision for the industry. It was always a mad gamble, and shifting market trends meant it stood as something of a martyr for the Japanese games industry for years after. Japanese audiences would drift away from consoles, western influence would radically shift the trajectories of big studios, and outspoken developers would be silenced as publishers chased US money. Nintendo had been right, though. They knew the strengths of Japanese developers, and with the Switch, global audiences are finally starting to side with them again. They were right. Mikami was right to side with them. And Resident Evil 4 is one of the best games ever made.
Yuggy
8 months ago