It’s been observed that some of Switch’s most successive titles – namely The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, Super Mario Odyssey, and Pokemon Legends – are but formulative rough drafts expertly paving the road for their respective franchises’ futures, and I find myself concluding the same for Kirby and the Forgotten Land. Not that we ever endure the dispiriting redundancy from 2018’s Star Allies, mind, yet the growing pains from what was, hitherto, exclusively 2D action-platforming to full 3D adventuring are undeniable. The signature Copy Abilities are the most evident sign: in the interest of juggling new design philosophies and maintaining precise 3D mobility, only a handful of the puffball’s powers appear, stripped down to their most basic functions. As I entail below, to claim Forgotten Land is “boxed-in” in its limitations might not be quite right, but it’s a deficiency all the same, and that’s enough to leave veterans wanting more. Alas, with this in mind, I cannot rank it among Kirby's finest adventures. (With my being the self-proclaimed No. 1 Kirby fan and all, you can imagine the dissonance I feel involving the game's acclaim!)
(There are other quibbles here and there – series composers Jun Ishikawa and Hirokazu Ando have finally lent the musical reins to newcomers Yuuta Ogasawara and Yuki Shimooka, and while the main theme masterfully bookends the game with anticipative catharsis, I confess I can’t recall much else.)
But what commitment it displays within this box! HAL Laboratory’s careful, elaborate balancing for Kirby’s powers is well-documented, and the scroll evolutions for each and every one springboards us into experimentation and unprecedented depth. (My favorites being the high-flying Dragon Flame and Chain Bomb’s calculated explosions.) Much like Kirby’s newfound use as a tarp, Mouthful Mode wraps our brains in endorphins with his latest feats, be it plowing through crowds as a car or zooming up and down rollercoasters. The boss battles are some of the series’ most dynamic, promising cutthroat encounters as they, like always, escalate into crowd-pleasing apocalypses or lore-hungry Eldritch abominations. The Super Mario 3D World-esque level design railroads our hero into fantastic environments, from funfair parades to mazes littering abandoned malls.
In charting new courses, the game must ultimately strive to be as alien as The Forgotten Land itself, and that’s how we end up with a subversive toybox. Menus are gleefully reforged as a free-roaming environment in Waddle Dee Town while environmental storytelling litters the stages with enticing lore and fictional alphabets. The former smoothly integrates mini-games and trinkets into contextual, economic feedback and adorable character interactions (don’t tell me you haven’t waved hi at every last Waddle Dee!), while the latter encourages players to move beyond translation and observe subtle character cues to derive further answers. (Not the least in the villainous Beast Pack’s fascination with the absent human civilization – might Sillydillo’s cobbled-together dance partner signal a desire to share his hoard of ancient artifacts?).
To this day, there is no game philosophy I treasure more than series creator Masahiro Sakurai’s delicate appeal to the beginner and the expert, and successor Shinya Kumazaki ensures this balance exudes into Forgotten Land’s framing. For instance, true to the conveniences of modern gaming, our time is respected with the Colosseum’s money-gobbling second chances, but our pride as veterans is appropriately wounded. Yet Kirby’s penchant for sugary-sweet highs ensures no shortages of Zen-ish safety nets we can reliably fall back upon; like a proud father, I am compelled to slowly twirl the camera around every last Gacha figure just so I can observe Kirby’s innocent, oversized fascinations. (And really, much like how the game’s combat was balanced out of the team’s desire not to see Kirby hurt, let’s not pretend Kirby’s house wasn’t included as an excuse to snuggle with his new mammal friend in Elfilin.)
For as much we could compare the intricacies of Kirby’s design between its respective eras, much of the Kumazaki years have truly spoiled us in their bountiful presentations. (In retrospect, Triple Deluxe and Planet Robobot were especially generous in their “game-within-games” offerings) Like Star Allies before it, Forgotten Land isn’t so interested in preserving that legacy, but I bear no ill-will in the face of its long-awaited ambitions. What should be a delicate tightrope is but a confident, sturdy road paved towards new frontiers – where they lead remains to be seen, but much like Kirby himself, I am hungry for more.
(There are other quibbles here and there – series composers Jun Ishikawa and Hirokazu Ando have finally lent the musical reins to newcomers Yuuta Ogasawara and Yuki Shimooka, and while the main theme masterfully bookends the game with anticipative catharsis, I confess I can’t recall much else.)
But what commitment it displays within this box! HAL Laboratory’s careful, elaborate balancing for Kirby’s powers is well-documented, and the scroll evolutions for each and every one springboards us into experimentation and unprecedented depth. (My favorites being the high-flying Dragon Flame and Chain Bomb’s calculated explosions.) Much like Kirby’s newfound use as a tarp, Mouthful Mode wraps our brains in endorphins with his latest feats, be it plowing through crowds as a car or zooming up and down rollercoasters. The boss battles are some of the series’ most dynamic, promising cutthroat encounters as they, like always, escalate into crowd-pleasing apocalypses or lore-hungry Eldritch abominations. The Super Mario 3D World-esque level design railroads our hero into fantastic environments, from funfair parades to mazes littering abandoned malls.
In charting new courses, the game must ultimately strive to be as alien as The Forgotten Land itself, and that’s how we end up with a subversive toybox. Menus are gleefully reforged as a free-roaming environment in Waddle Dee Town while environmental storytelling litters the stages with enticing lore and fictional alphabets. The former smoothly integrates mini-games and trinkets into contextual, economic feedback and adorable character interactions (don’t tell me you haven’t waved hi at every last Waddle Dee!), while the latter encourages players to move beyond translation and observe subtle character cues to derive further answers. (Not the least in the villainous Beast Pack’s fascination with the absent human civilization – might Sillydillo’s cobbled-together dance partner signal a desire to share his hoard of ancient artifacts?).
To this day, there is no game philosophy I treasure more than series creator Masahiro Sakurai’s delicate appeal to the beginner and the expert, and successor Shinya Kumazaki ensures this balance exudes into Forgotten Land’s framing. For instance, true to the conveniences of modern gaming, our time is respected with the Colosseum’s money-gobbling second chances, but our pride as veterans is appropriately wounded. Yet Kirby’s penchant for sugary-sweet highs ensures no shortages of Zen-ish safety nets we can reliably fall back upon; like a proud father, I am compelled to slowly twirl the camera around every last Gacha figure just so I can observe Kirby’s innocent, oversized fascinations. (And really, much like how the game’s combat was balanced out of the team’s desire not to see Kirby hurt, let’s not pretend Kirby’s house wasn’t included as an excuse to snuggle with his new mammal friend in Elfilin.)
For as much we could compare the intricacies of Kirby’s design between its respective eras, much of the Kumazaki years have truly spoiled us in their bountiful presentations. (In retrospect, Triple Deluxe and Planet Robobot were especially generous in their “game-within-games” offerings) Like Star Allies before it, Forgotten Land isn’t so interested in preserving that legacy, but I bear no ill-will in the face of its long-awaited ambitions. What should be a delicate tightrope is but a confident, sturdy road paved towards new frontiers – where they lead remains to be seen, but much like Kirby himself, I am hungry for more.