This review contains spoilers
Love stinks, or so goes the popular sentiment. In reality, where the negativity for one of life’s most powerful emotions stems from is less rooted in general unpleasantness and more from the fact that it's frustratingly complicated. Animals don’t fall in love; they have base sexual relationships for the sake of procreating, and the relevant factors in who passes on the species’ genetics are purely based on physical characteristics. We humans are far more complex than that, using our superior intellect to analyze a person beneath the surface so we can commit to an ardent bond of wild passion meant to be everlasting. However, despite the efforts of our religious and governmental establishments, the vast percentage of romantic human relationships falter because people, similarly to animals, were not meant to be tied down to one person until the end of their days. In my personal, non-expert evaluation, sex is the one aspect of human nature that reminds us that we are closer to the primal and savage animal kingdom than we want to admit, which is why the drive to do it causes shame and embarrassment among a good handful of our kind. The fact that it's a cultural taboo in several earthly societies despite its necessary ubiquity in preserving the human race is the biggest fallacy we propagate-an oxymoronic idea even. Because we all try to make an earnest attempt to juggle society’s expectations of our sex lives with a healthy restraint, any time the animalistic ID that thirsts for more than what a relationship would allow breaks out of its cage, the consequences of breaking the sanctity of commitment tend to have catastrophic results. To celebrate Valentine’s Day (which is totally when I’m publishing this review and not a week or two later), a holiday that is synonymous with the dutiful, monogamous romance that society upholds, why not take a look at Catherine: a video game that delves into the scary, stressful, and ugly dimensions of romantic love?
From initial impressions, what genre of video game would one expect Catherine to fall under? Firstly, Catherine was developed by Atlus, who is widely associated with the JRPG genre thanks to their popular and acclaimed Shin Megami Tensei/Persona franchises. If Catherine doesn’t ape SMT’s turn-based formula, perhaps it expands Persona’s dating sim mechanics to the forefront of an entire game as opposed to a piece of alternative gameplay intertwined with the turn-based combat. I did allude that sex was an integral facet of Catherine, after all. However, if anyone made either of these logical conclusions and confidently made bets based on their deductions, they would be liable to lose a lot of money. Any rational person would probably never anticipate Catherine as a puzzle platformer in the vein of the falling block variety but alas, this is ultimately what Atlus envisioned for their new IP. After the opening credits, the game drops the player on an ascending grid of white blocks. They’ll figure it’s imperative not to stand around waiting for context to fill in the blanks of their abrupt objective because the lower blocks that comprise the grid are falling and the shirtless man they are controlling will die if he dawdles wondering what the hell is going on. By rearranging the blocks to make a staircase of sorts, a door materializes at the peak of the tower for the player to escape the eroding area. The player will perform the same task numerous times, albeit with differing layouts, because it’s the focal mechanic that defines Catherine’s gameplay. Again, who the hell could’ve expected this from Catherine?
Naturally, Catherine isn’t simply a bizarre Japanese interpretation of Q-Bert, even if the introduction would lead the player into believing anything at this point. Context is given to the player once they complete the first level, but elucidation doesn’t make the game any less strange. The terrified man whom the player just aided in preventing him from tumbling to his death is Vincent, a 32-year-old American man who is currently at a turning point in his life. He and his girlfriend Katherine have been going steady for half a decade now, and they’re at the point in their relationship where the elephant in the room of marriage and having children is rearing its bulbous head. Katherine isn’t getting any younger, so her ticking biological clock is a catalyst for where their relationship is going. All the while, the wrinkles of a long-standing relationship are starting to emerge. Katherine has become the nagging girlfriend who chides Vincent for any lifestyle choices and personality quirks she finds annoying and unsavory. Vincent seems fearful around her rather than exuding any excitable infatuation. Because their relationship has hit a rocky road bump that was imminent with all the contextual evidence, it’s time for Vincent to shit or get off the pot and bite the bullet for an admirable adult life. Or, he can start an affair with a blonde tart with pigtails at least a decade his junior who eerily has the same name as his long-term girlfriend. It’s admittedly a decision an embarrassingly sizable number of men make when backed against a wall in this scenario. In this case, I’d at least make a minor defensive case for Vincent’s infidelity, for he returns home from a bar every night so roaringly drunk that he has no recollection of even speaking to the girl much less seducing her. The other Catherine is possibly taking advantage of Vincent’s debilitated stupor in a predatory manner, but that’s an argument of double standards that I’m not touching with a ten-foot pole. Still, the taboo outlet for some side action does not distract Vincent from his relationship troubles; rather, it compounds them to the point where Vincent is liable to explode from all of the anxiety. While the conflict in Catherine is mundane, its over-the-top anime presentation heightens the story and expertly coincides with the palpable stress that envelops Vincent’s life.
As for explaining the introductory gameplay sequence, the odd puzzle-oriented sections are a series of similar, gamified nightmares that will always place Vincent in a frantic, do-or-die situation that forces him to manipulate the blocky, expressionistic ground as it crumbles around him to survive. Before engaging in this nightly escapade, the player is granted a conscious leisure period in a bar called the Stray Sheep. Vincent, his two high school friends Orlando and Johnny, and Johnny’s younger co-worker Toby congregate routinely in the same booth and discuss the latest gossip over pizza and beer. Usually, their topic of discussion is Vincent’s newfound promiscuity because of its intriguing scandal and relevance to the plot. These four dudes congregate at this dive so frequently that the on-staff waitress, Erika, feels emboldened enough to butt into their conversations as if she’s one of the guys. Apparently, the unmistakably Japanese studio of Atlus researched American life via television for their debut game that takes place across the pond and got the impression from Cheers that all thirty-something Americans are barflies wrought with trivial issues they try to drink away. After the cutscene where the boys (and Erika) provide their input on Vincent’s romantic dilemmas, the player is essentially given free reign over Vincent’s activity in the bar until they decide to leave and face the hectic climb during Vincent’s REM cycles. At the booth, Vincent can use his now oldfangled flip phone (or maybe cheaters have burner phones?) to check and reply to text messages, save the game, and replay a nightmare from the previous evening to achieve a better score. Vincent can also guzzle down a maximum of four different drinks per night, which include a selection of beer, sake, wine, and more of his rum and cola standby. From both fables and personal experience, I’ve learned that there are damnable consequences to heavy drinking, but Vincent illogically jumps like a fucking jackrabbit in his dreams when he’s blitzed. Getting up from the booth and roaming around the building allows Vincent to speak to other patrons at the bar and play Rapunzel, a minigame that mirrors the puzzle platformer gameplay from the nightmares in a minimal, arcade fashion. Vincent can also use its restroom for a more private session with his phone if he doesn’t trust Orlando not to peer into his business from his shoulder view. Anyone familiar with Atlus’s Persona franchise will recognize that the bar shares the same real-world and surreal world dichotomy that Persona exhibits as a prime idiosyncrasy of the series. However, where both worlds in any Persona game divide about an equal amount of screen time due to being stretched to the proportions of an epically long JRPG, Catherine’s shorter length forces it to prioritize the nightmare gameplay and leave the bar section as a lot to be desired in terms of content. Nothing in the Stray Sheep holds me to the lucid realm of reality for more than ten minutes tops.
The Stray Sheep is still a valuable point of respite in Catherine because the game’s interactive centerpiece is just as much of a nightmare for the player as it is for Vincent. The self-confidence in my puzzle platforming abilities I had cultivated through playing Portal and its sequel was immediately dashed upon playing Catherine. Stacking blocks to form a staircase sounds elementary on paper until one realizes that the player won’t be constructing Vincent’s vertical exit with blocks that materialize out of thin air: they’ll be repurposing the foundation that Vincent is already walking on. I’m no architect or construction worker, but I’m fairly confident in stating that renovating a foundation is a more considerable task than erecting one from scratch. The inherent challenge here is also magnified due to the flimsy and volatile nature of the foundation corroding into oblivion at every second. The margin of error involved in rearranging the blocks in Catherine is so razor thin that a supermodel could use it to permanently raze even their peach fuzz. I attribute Catherine’s stern difficulty curve to the fact that the blocks can be manipulated in a myriad of directions thanks to the multifaceted parameters of the third dimension. Pulling out blocks from their secure wedges will be the most common maneuver, but they won’t always be symmetrically aligned in a comfortable row that Vincent can conveniently climb one by one. Oftentimes, Vincent should also consider pushing blocks out of the foundation for easier access to more manageable blocks, creating a zigzagging staircase by lowering every incremental block back down to the base, pushing blocks to the side as a makeshift bridge to a sturdier array, etc. Some sections are arranged so obtusely that it’s like the player has been tasked with reorganizing an MC Escher painting. The third dimension might have diluted the difficulty of traditional platformer games, but it gives the puzzle genre an additional spatial layer for the player to work around. Vincent will always have to contend with alternate kinds of blocks that are more stubborn and precarious than the standard white ones. The golden brown blocks with red eyes and a glower, for instance, will always make their presence as totally immovable obstacles. As the game progresses, they will be accompanied by slippery ice blocks, booby trap blocks with spikes that practically liquify Vincent in a burst of all his blood, bomb blocks whose triggered fuse will decimate all white blocks in its blast radius, etc. Because the realm exists in a dream, Vincent can “edge” blocks that stick to parallel surfaces without being weighed down by the rules of gravity. While it's important to practice this often during the puzzles, I swear that the concrete laws of physics only apply only when it's inconvenient for Vincent. Keep in mind that Vincent is also a noodle-armed mamby-pamby, so he does not possess the upper body strength to climb more than one block at a time. Due to all of the gameplay stipulations, Catherine is a nerve-wracking experience. For beginners, becoming hopelessly stuck from a string of mismanaged mistakes is equivalent to stubbing one’s toe after every few inches of walking, so prepare to dive into the game and start drowning. However, after proverbially learning to swim, the eventual grace one exhibits when directing Vincent to victory will make you feel a swarm of confidence that not too many other games provide.
Fortunately, Catherine corrects for human error that will consistently impede the player from progression and provides plenty of remedies. Depending on the number of successive moves the player has made, they can undo these moves to repave their pathway to an effective solution. Having a few moves on hand also acts as life insurance for whenever Vincent falls or one of the many hazards on the stage subdues him. Items will be littered around the stage with individual perks such as the bell that rings in a grid of white blocks to supplement sections lined with unyielding ones, a bible whose verses will strike down the irritable enemies that halt Vincent’s ascent, and a soft drink that allows Vincent to jump on a stack of two blocks with its fizzy lifting properties. One of these items can also be purchased with the piles of gold found on the blocks that tend to be in rocky positions. In moments of considerable strife, of course, the player will feel inclined to use any item on hand. However, as tempting as they are, I don’t recommend indulging in them because these shortcuts will cheat the player out of firmly grasping Catherine’s puzzle mechanics.
The first eve of the nightmares was a sampler tutorial of what is involved when Vincent goes to sleep. For the duration of the game, every nightmare is going to be a three to four-act epic. In the final act, the nightmare climaxes with the closest example of what could be construed as a “boss” in a puzzle platformer game. Whatever the most severe form of stress is in Vincent’s life at the moment materializes as a beastly juggernaut that chases Vincent up the fourth act level’s foundation. For example, Katherine informing Vincent that she might be pregnant shakes him to his core, so the “boss” that night is a gigantic, monstrous baby that utters demonic-sounding goo-goo gaga noises while calling Vincent daddy. Because the anxiety of this situation persists, the baby returns two nights later as a Terminator cyborg with a chainsaw for a hand. Not since Eraserhead has the prospect of fatherhood been so harrowing. Other psychological machinations include a veiny arm that stabs Vincent with a fork, a crudely abstract depiction of the most intimate of female anatomy with a tongue the length of a fire hose, and Katherine in a wedding dress. Take a guess what was on Vincent’s mind that day. While the boss levels do not enhance Catherine’s already steep difficulty curve, they do enhance the horrific frenzy that naturally comes with a nightmare with their cosmically grotesque visages. The more sensitive types were probably alarmed that Catherine unexpectedly incorporated these horror elements.
Like a stage production with multiple acts, the nightmare offers an intermission so Vincent can take a breather. The save option situated on a music stand is the piece de resistance here but if the player doesn’t impatiently dart to the next level, they’ll see something rather peculiar happening on this suspended slab of land. While we see a compromising view of Vincent carrying a pillow in his underwear, his real physical appearance is still discernible. However, the other unwilling participants of this nightmare all see Vincent as a sheep and vice versa from Vincent’s perspective. Technically, and the game never corrects itself, but they’re all rams. I wouldn’t be so pedantic except for the fact that all of the characters on this island crag being male is a significant thematic detail of Catherine. If Vincent strikes up a conversation with any of these frightened lambs, they are all fretting over their love lives as frantically as Vincent is. Some of them are even stricken with guilt over their lack of fidelity in their relationships, which the deadly environment of the nightmare has forced them to come to terms with. The police officer, Morgan, is plagued with grief because of his wife’s murder, Daniel the wealthy heir with sunglasses feels guilty for abandoning his normal girlfriend for a rich heiress his parents arranged for him to marry, and the flashy golden-kitted Abul is a middle-eastern oil baron whose opulence alienates him from the rest of humanity. We even pry into the personal lives of Orlando and Johnny in their fluffy, astral forms, which shows the extent of the curse affecting seemingly every man in the game (except for Toby) and that every man deserves to be punished for all degrees of romantic misconduct. The atmosphere of the area is akin to that of being pinned down in a foxhole, a collectively masculine feeling of terror, dread, and the danger of the inevitable vulnerable period of stepping out into the action being their last.
The player might also notice that the aisle with symmetrical arrangement of pews in the intermittent sections of the nightmare resembles the interior design of a church. Instead of an altar as the centerpiece on stage, the confessional booth is situated directly in the front, and sitting down to purge Vincent’s innermost secrets is the only way to commence the next level. Actually, instead of Vincent spilling his guts via a monologue, the impish, condescending voice opposite to him will have Vincent conduct a poll with questions based on popular romantic quandaries such as the ethics of cheating or what characteristics they pursue in a partner. Pulling either of the two ropes depending on Vincent’s answer will cause a compass to appear and slightly slide towards either the order spectrum on the right or the freedom spectrum on the left. Sometimes, the array of questions feels like taking an EPI test, and the grand scope of information seems to fall on a spectrum of general lifestyle choices between bohemian to rigid and orderly. Really, wherever the compass needle is near the end of the game dictates whether Vincent solves his issues with Katherine or decides to abandon her completely and sincerely commit to his fling with the other Catherine full-time. Unlike the majority of people who submitted their answers in the online polls displayed in a pie chart revealed after the player gave their answer, I did my damndest to reply with utmost honesty. I guess the outcome will inadvertently reveal the circumstances of my own love life.
Whether or not the player does sway their answers toward their preferred (CK)atherine, they cannot circumvent the eventual outcome of Vincent’s two worlds colliding when Katherine catches Catherine in Vincent’s apartment at the wee hours of dawn. While Vincent is squirming so hard that his skin is bound to shed like a snake, old Katherine decides to approach the situation calmly over a spot of tea. However, new Catherine isn’t as sanguine and tries to kill her rival for Vincent’s affections with a kitchen knife before ultimately impaling herself on it by accident. Even though the threat to Katherine’s monogamous bond with Vincent has fortuitously been vanquished in the scuffle, she isn’t rid of the pest just yet. Katherine and Vincent then teleport to another level of the nightmare together where Vincent props his girlfriend along a puzzle path in the game’s one and (thankfully) only escort mission. All the while, a ghastly, scorned boss version of Catherine is hunting them down from below. One would think this experience would cause Katherine to be frozen in shock and confusion, but this ordeal is yet another fabrication of Vincent’s astral projection. In fact, when Katherine arrives to break up with Vincent after sussing out the clues of his infidelity with context, it astounds Vincent to know that Katherine never even saw a glimpse of the phantom femme-fatale in her peripheral vision. In fact, none of Vincent’s friends witnessed him attempt to sever ties with the lingerie-wearing bimbo at the Stray Sheep the day prior, and they’d probably kill to sneak and peek at her. The only person who seems to acknowledge Catherine’s presence directly is the older, debonair gentleman who owns the bar. Once Vincent comes to this realization, he confronts “Boss” who tells him that he’s a God who constructed Catherine as a mental machination of Vincent’s ideal sexual partner. Vincent is evidently not a man of sophisticated taste but to each their own. He did this to punish Vincent and every male patron over a certain age in the bar for either not committing to the long-term pact of marriage or the failure to launch a meaningful relationship with a woman and have children to maintain the human population. They are lambs being sent to the slaughter if you will. He’s a utilitarian if his views mirrored those of everyone’s nagging, baby-boomer parents who got married at 19. Vincent finds his punitive game cruel and unfairly judgemental so later that night, he makes a bet with the bar owner that if he climbs the zenith point of the tower, he’ll cease the charade indefinitely. Because Vincent is such an exemplary climber (you’re welcome), he has little trouble winning the bet despite the Bosses' efforts to quash him from the comfort of his flying recliner. The reveal that the culprit behind the otherworldly dimension is a God masquerading among the living is pure Persona. Still, the revelation is less contrived than it can be in Atlus’ other series because the mystery and intrigue still resonate in the air instead of acting as an elevated epilogue after the core mystery has already been solved.
Alas, despite Vincent’s efforts to liberate himself and his friends along with his discovery that his cheating was all a mirage, the falling action of Catherine’s narrative was Katherine sternly doubling down on her departure from Vincent. I guess this is what occurs when the compass needle barely diverts from its center as a neutral ending, and it’s actually the best possible outcome. I’m not going to disparage or berate Vincent, mostly because I pity him, but the man needs to get his shit together. He’s a nervous, stuttering wreck, he’s dead broke, and his current place of residence is practically a dorm room that is crawling with ants. Simply because he’s at an ideal age to settle down and procreate doesn’t mean it’s ideal for his circumstances. He clearly isn't mentally or financially ready to support someone else when he can hardly support himself. Catherine manages to convey a valuable and surprisingly uncommon life lesson for all young adults to bask in the glory of singlehood despite society and matriarchal and or patriarchal pressures that befall all young adults. Besides, it’s not as if Vincent has menopause as a future hindrance to tackle. Vincent has all the time in the world to cultivate confidence, financial gain, and other means of prosperity before he concerns himself with passing on his genetic material with a woman. That, and the other endings achieved on a staunch range of the spectrum are either dumb, anticlimactic or a mix of both. I can’t stomach the concept of “spiritual” cheating that Vincent admits to committing to wed Katherine at the Stray Sheep, and becoming a suave playboy demon in hell with Catherine is just ridiculous. The latter of the outcomes emphasizes a route of freedom if they side with Vincent’s goomar, but the truth is that being single releases the shackles of relationship responsibility completely.
To say that Catherine is a unique experience in the world of gaming is an understatement. Atlus can’t seem to quit implementing Jungian/Freudian psychology into their IPs and externalizing them as an otherworldly dimension that comprises half of the focal point of gameplay mechanics with a humdrum depiction of the real world. Besides Atlus’s Persona as a stark influence, Catherine evidently borrows aplenty from other sources such as Silent Hill, Q-Bert (honestly), and the philosophies of love and its gamut of pleasure and pain. Such a lofty conceptual mix is ideal for a lengthy JRPG such as what Atlus usually creates, but the fact that all of it congeals splendidly in a challenging puzzle platformer is nothing short of bewildering. It’s difficult to recommend Catherine due to its mind-boggling puzzle mechanics, instances of heart-attack-inducing horror, and often negative attitude toward values that the Western world holds as sacred. Still, I’d rather play something unorthodox and inspired than sink into a conceptual comfort zone. For those who aren’t of the faint of heart like I, Catherine is incredibly fresh and exciting.
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Attribution: https://erockreviews.blogspot.com
From initial impressions, what genre of video game would one expect Catherine to fall under? Firstly, Catherine was developed by Atlus, who is widely associated with the JRPG genre thanks to their popular and acclaimed Shin Megami Tensei/Persona franchises. If Catherine doesn’t ape SMT’s turn-based formula, perhaps it expands Persona’s dating sim mechanics to the forefront of an entire game as opposed to a piece of alternative gameplay intertwined with the turn-based combat. I did allude that sex was an integral facet of Catherine, after all. However, if anyone made either of these logical conclusions and confidently made bets based on their deductions, they would be liable to lose a lot of money. Any rational person would probably never anticipate Catherine as a puzzle platformer in the vein of the falling block variety but alas, this is ultimately what Atlus envisioned for their new IP. After the opening credits, the game drops the player on an ascending grid of white blocks. They’ll figure it’s imperative not to stand around waiting for context to fill in the blanks of their abrupt objective because the lower blocks that comprise the grid are falling and the shirtless man they are controlling will die if he dawdles wondering what the hell is going on. By rearranging the blocks to make a staircase of sorts, a door materializes at the peak of the tower for the player to escape the eroding area. The player will perform the same task numerous times, albeit with differing layouts, because it’s the focal mechanic that defines Catherine’s gameplay. Again, who the hell could’ve expected this from Catherine?
Naturally, Catherine isn’t simply a bizarre Japanese interpretation of Q-Bert, even if the introduction would lead the player into believing anything at this point. Context is given to the player once they complete the first level, but elucidation doesn’t make the game any less strange. The terrified man whom the player just aided in preventing him from tumbling to his death is Vincent, a 32-year-old American man who is currently at a turning point in his life. He and his girlfriend Katherine have been going steady for half a decade now, and they’re at the point in their relationship where the elephant in the room of marriage and having children is rearing its bulbous head. Katherine isn’t getting any younger, so her ticking biological clock is a catalyst for where their relationship is going. All the while, the wrinkles of a long-standing relationship are starting to emerge. Katherine has become the nagging girlfriend who chides Vincent for any lifestyle choices and personality quirks she finds annoying and unsavory. Vincent seems fearful around her rather than exuding any excitable infatuation. Because their relationship has hit a rocky road bump that was imminent with all the contextual evidence, it’s time for Vincent to shit or get off the pot and bite the bullet for an admirable adult life. Or, he can start an affair with a blonde tart with pigtails at least a decade his junior who eerily has the same name as his long-term girlfriend. It’s admittedly a decision an embarrassingly sizable number of men make when backed against a wall in this scenario. In this case, I’d at least make a minor defensive case for Vincent’s infidelity, for he returns home from a bar every night so roaringly drunk that he has no recollection of even speaking to the girl much less seducing her. The other Catherine is possibly taking advantage of Vincent’s debilitated stupor in a predatory manner, but that’s an argument of double standards that I’m not touching with a ten-foot pole. Still, the taboo outlet for some side action does not distract Vincent from his relationship troubles; rather, it compounds them to the point where Vincent is liable to explode from all of the anxiety. While the conflict in Catherine is mundane, its over-the-top anime presentation heightens the story and expertly coincides with the palpable stress that envelops Vincent’s life.
As for explaining the introductory gameplay sequence, the odd puzzle-oriented sections are a series of similar, gamified nightmares that will always place Vincent in a frantic, do-or-die situation that forces him to manipulate the blocky, expressionistic ground as it crumbles around him to survive. Before engaging in this nightly escapade, the player is granted a conscious leisure period in a bar called the Stray Sheep. Vincent, his two high school friends Orlando and Johnny, and Johnny’s younger co-worker Toby congregate routinely in the same booth and discuss the latest gossip over pizza and beer. Usually, their topic of discussion is Vincent’s newfound promiscuity because of its intriguing scandal and relevance to the plot. These four dudes congregate at this dive so frequently that the on-staff waitress, Erika, feels emboldened enough to butt into their conversations as if she’s one of the guys. Apparently, the unmistakably Japanese studio of Atlus researched American life via television for their debut game that takes place across the pond and got the impression from Cheers that all thirty-something Americans are barflies wrought with trivial issues they try to drink away. After the cutscene where the boys (and Erika) provide their input on Vincent’s romantic dilemmas, the player is essentially given free reign over Vincent’s activity in the bar until they decide to leave and face the hectic climb during Vincent’s REM cycles. At the booth, Vincent can use his now oldfangled flip phone (or maybe cheaters have burner phones?) to check and reply to text messages, save the game, and replay a nightmare from the previous evening to achieve a better score. Vincent can also guzzle down a maximum of four different drinks per night, which include a selection of beer, sake, wine, and more of his rum and cola standby. From both fables and personal experience, I’ve learned that there are damnable consequences to heavy drinking, but Vincent illogically jumps like a fucking jackrabbit in his dreams when he’s blitzed. Getting up from the booth and roaming around the building allows Vincent to speak to other patrons at the bar and play Rapunzel, a minigame that mirrors the puzzle platformer gameplay from the nightmares in a minimal, arcade fashion. Vincent can also use its restroom for a more private session with his phone if he doesn’t trust Orlando not to peer into his business from his shoulder view. Anyone familiar with Atlus’s Persona franchise will recognize that the bar shares the same real-world and surreal world dichotomy that Persona exhibits as a prime idiosyncrasy of the series. However, where both worlds in any Persona game divide about an equal amount of screen time due to being stretched to the proportions of an epically long JRPG, Catherine’s shorter length forces it to prioritize the nightmare gameplay and leave the bar section as a lot to be desired in terms of content. Nothing in the Stray Sheep holds me to the lucid realm of reality for more than ten minutes tops.
The Stray Sheep is still a valuable point of respite in Catherine because the game’s interactive centerpiece is just as much of a nightmare for the player as it is for Vincent. The self-confidence in my puzzle platforming abilities I had cultivated through playing Portal and its sequel was immediately dashed upon playing Catherine. Stacking blocks to form a staircase sounds elementary on paper until one realizes that the player won’t be constructing Vincent’s vertical exit with blocks that materialize out of thin air: they’ll be repurposing the foundation that Vincent is already walking on. I’m no architect or construction worker, but I’m fairly confident in stating that renovating a foundation is a more considerable task than erecting one from scratch. The inherent challenge here is also magnified due to the flimsy and volatile nature of the foundation corroding into oblivion at every second. The margin of error involved in rearranging the blocks in Catherine is so razor thin that a supermodel could use it to permanently raze even their peach fuzz. I attribute Catherine’s stern difficulty curve to the fact that the blocks can be manipulated in a myriad of directions thanks to the multifaceted parameters of the third dimension. Pulling out blocks from their secure wedges will be the most common maneuver, but they won’t always be symmetrically aligned in a comfortable row that Vincent can conveniently climb one by one. Oftentimes, Vincent should also consider pushing blocks out of the foundation for easier access to more manageable blocks, creating a zigzagging staircase by lowering every incremental block back down to the base, pushing blocks to the side as a makeshift bridge to a sturdier array, etc. Some sections are arranged so obtusely that it’s like the player has been tasked with reorganizing an MC Escher painting. The third dimension might have diluted the difficulty of traditional platformer games, but it gives the puzzle genre an additional spatial layer for the player to work around. Vincent will always have to contend with alternate kinds of blocks that are more stubborn and precarious than the standard white ones. The golden brown blocks with red eyes and a glower, for instance, will always make their presence as totally immovable obstacles. As the game progresses, they will be accompanied by slippery ice blocks, booby trap blocks with spikes that practically liquify Vincent in a burst of all his blood, bomb blocks whose triggered fuse will decimate all white blocks in its blast radius, etc. Because the realm exists in a dream, Vincent can “edge” blocks that stick to parallel surfaces without being weighed down by the rules of gravity. While it's important to practice this often during the puzzles, I swear that the concrete laws of physics only apply only when it's inconvenient for Vincent. Keep in mind that Vincent is also a noodle-armed mamby-pamby, so he does not possess the upper body strength to climb more than one block at a time. Due to all of the gameplay stipulations, Catherine is a nerve-wracking experience. For beginners, becoming hopelessly stuck from a string of mismanaged mistakes is equivalent to stubbing one’s toe after every few inches of walking, so prepare to dive into the game and start drowning. However, after proverbially learning to swim, the eventual grace one exhibits when directing Vincent to victory will make you feel a swarm of confidence that not too many other games provide.
Fortunately, Catherine corrects for human error that will consistently impede the player from progression and provides plenty of remedies. Depending on the number of successive moves the player has made, they can undo these moves to repave their pathway to an effective solution. Having a few moves on hand also acts as life insurance for whenever Vincent falls or one of the many hazards on the stage subdues him. Items will be littered around the stage with individual perks such as the bell that rings in a grid of white blocks to supplement sections lined with unyielding ones, a bible whose verses will strike down the irritable enemies that halt Vincent’s ascent, and a soft drink that allows Vincent to jump on a stack of two blocks with its fizzy lifting properties. One of these items can also be purchased with the piles of gold found on the blocks that tend to be in rocky positions. In moments of considerable strife, of course, the player will feel inclined to use any item on hand. However, as tempting as they are, I don’t recommend indulging in them because these shortcuts will cheat the player out of firmly grasping Catherine’s puzzle mechanics.
The first eve of the nightmares was a sampler tutorial of what is involved when Vincent goes to sleep. For the duration of the game, every nightmare is going to be a three to four-act epic. In the final act, the nightmare climaxes with the closest example of what could be construed as a “boss” in a puzzle platformer game. Whatever the most severe form of stress is in Vincent’s life at the moment materializes as a beastly juggernaut that chases Vincent up the fourth act level’s foundation. For example, Katherine informing Vincent that she might be pregnant shakes him to his core, so the “boss” that night is a gigantic, monstrous baby that utters demonic-sounding goo-goo gaga noises while calling Vincent daddy. Because the anxiety of this situation persists, the baby returns two nights later as a Terminator cyborg with a chainsaw for a hand. Not since Eraserhead has the prospect of fatherhood been so harrowing. Other psychological machinations include a veiny arm that stabs Vincent with a fork, a crudely abstract depiction of the most intimate of female anatomy with a tongue the length of a fire hose, and Katherine in a wedding dress. Take a guess what was on Vincent’s mind that day. While the boss levels do not enhance Catherine’s already steep difficulty curve, they do enhance the horrific frenzy that naturally comes with a nightmare with their cosmically grotesque visages. The more sensitive types were probably alarmed that Catherine unexpectedly incorporated these horror elements.
Like a stage production with multiple acts, the nightmare offers an intermission so Vincent can take a breather. The save option situated on a music stand is the piece de resistance here but if the player doesn’t impatiently dart to the next level, they’ll see something rather peculiar happening on this suspended slab of land. While we see a compromising view of Vincent carrying a pillow in his underwear, his real physical appearance is still discernible. However, the other unwilling participants of this nightmare all see Vincent as a sheep and vice versa from Vincent’s perspective. Technically, and the game never corrects itself, but they’re all rams. I wouldn’t be so pedantic except for the fact that all of the characters on this island crag being male is a significant thematic detail of Catherine. If Vincent strikes up a conversation with any of these frightened lambs, they are all fretting over their love lives as frantically as Vincent is. Some of them are even stricken with guilt over their lack of fidelity in their relationships, which the deadly environment of the nightmare has forced them to come to terms with. The police officer, Morgan, is plagued with grief because of his wife’s murder, Daniel the wealthy heir with sunglasses feels guilty for abandoning his normal girlfriend for a rich heiress his parents arranged for him to marry, and the flashy golden-kitted Abul is a middle-eastern oil baron whose opulence alienates him from the rest of humanity. We even pry into the personal lives of Orlando and Johnny in their fluffy, astral forms, which shows the extent of the curse affecting seemingly every man in the game (except for Toby) and that every man deserves to be punished for all degrees of romantic misconduct. The atmosphere of the area is akin to that of being pinned down in a foxhole, a collectively masculine feeling of terror, dread, and the danger of the inevitable vulnerable period of stepping out into the action being their last.
The player might also notice that the aisle with symmetrical arrangement of pews in the intermittent sections of the nightmare resembles the interior design of a church. Instead of an altar as the centerpiece on stage, the confessional booth is situated directly in the front, and sitting down to purge Vincent’s innermost secrets is the only way to commence the next level. Actually, instead of Vincent spilling his guts via a monologue, the impish, condescending voice opposite to him will have Vincent conduct a poll with questions based on popular romantic quandaries such as the ethics of cheating or what characteristics they pursue in a partner. Pulling either of the two ropes depending on Vincent’s answer will cause a compass to appear and slightly slide towards either the order spectrum on the right or the freedom spectrum on the left. Sometimes, the array of questions feels like taking an EPI test, and the grand scope of information seems to fall on a spectrum of general lifestyle choices between bohemian to rigid and orderly. Really, wherever the compass needle is near the end of the game dictates whether Vincent solves his issues with Katherine or decides to abandon her completely and sincerely commit to his fling with the other Catherine full-time. Unlike the majority of people who submitted their answers in the online polls displayed in a pie chart revealed after the player gave their answer, I did my damndest to reply with utmost honesty. I guess the outcome will inadvertently reveal the circumstances of my own love life.
Whether or not the player does sway their answers toward their preferred (CK)atherine, they cannot circumvent the eventual outcome of Vincent’s two worlds colliding when Katherine catches Catherine in Vincent’s apartment at the wee hours of dawn. While Vincent is squirming so hard that his skin is bound to shed like a snake, old Katherine decides to approach the situation calmly over a spot of tea. However, new Catherine isn’t as sanguine and tries to kill her rival for Vincent’s affections with a kitchen knife before ultimately impaling herself on it by accident. Even though the threat to Katherine’s monogamous bond with Vincent has fortuitously been vanquished in the scuffle, she isn’t rid of the pest just yet. Katherine and Vincent then teleport to another level of the nightmare together where Vincent props his girlfriend along a puzzle path in the game’s one and (thankfully) only escort mission. All the while, a ghastly, scorned boss version of Catherine is hunting them down from below. One would think this experience would cause Katherine to be frozen in shock and confusion, but this ordeal is yet another fabrication of Vincent’s astral projection. In fact, when Katherine arrives to break up with Vincent after sussing out the clues of his infidelity with context, it astounds Vincent to know that Katherine never even saw a glimpse of the phantom femme-fatale in her peripheral vision. In fact, none of Vincent’s friends witnessed him attempt to sever ties with the lingerie-wearing bimbo at the Stray Sheep the day prior, and they’d probably kill to sneak and peek at her. The only person who seems to acknowledge Catherine’s presence directly is the older, debonair gentleman who owns the bar. Once Vincent comes to this realization, he confronts “Boss” who tells him that he’s a God who constructed Catherine as a mental machination of Vincent’s ideal sexual partner. Vincent is evidently not a man of sophisticated taste but to each their own. He did this to punish Vincent and every male patron over a certain age in the bar for either not committing to the long-term pact of marriage or the failure to launch a meaningful relationship with a woman and have children to maintain the human population. They are lambs being sent to the slaughter if you will. He’s a utilitarian if his views mirrored those of everyone’s nagging, baby-boomer parents who got married at 19. Vincent finds his punitive game cruel and unfairly judgemental so later that night, he makes a bet with the bar owner that if he climbs the zenith point of the tower, he’ll cease the charade indefinitely. Because Vincent is such an exemplary climber (you’re welcome), he has little trouble winning the bet despite the Bosses' efforts to quash him from the comfort of his flying recliner. The reveal that the culprit behind the otherworldly dimension is a God masquerading among the living is pure Persona. Still, the revelation is less contrived than it can be in Atlus’ other series because the mystery and intrigue still resonate in the air instead of acting as an elevated epilogue after the core mystery has already been solved.
Alas, despite Vincent’s efforts to liberate himself and his friends along with his discovery that his cheating was all a mirage, the falling action of Catherine’s narrative was Katherine sternly doubling down on her departure from Vincent. I guess this is what occurs when the compass needle barely diverts from its center as a neutral ending, and it’s actually the best possible outcome. I’m not going to disparage or berate Vincent, mostly because I pity him, but the man needs to get his shit together. He’s a nervous, stuttering wreck, he’s dead broke, and his current place of residence is practically a dorm room that is crawling with ants. Simply because he’s at an ideal age to settle down and procreate doesn’t mean it’s ideal for his circumstances. He clearly isn't mentally or financially ready to support someone else when he can hardly support himself. Catherine manages to convey a valuable and surprisingly uncommon life lesson for all young adults to bask in the glory of singlehood despite society and matriarchal and or patriarchal pressures that befall all young adults. Besides, it’s not as if Vincent has menopause as a future hindrance to tackle. Vincent has all the time in the world to cultivate confidence, financial gain, and other means of prosperity before he concerns himself with passing on his genetic material with a woman. That, and the other endings achieved on a staunch range of the spectrum are either dumb, anticlimactic or a mix of both. I can’t stomach the concept of “spiritual” cheating that Vincent admits to committing to wed Katherine at the Stray Sheep, and becoming a suave playboy demon in hell with Catherine is just ridiculous. The latter of the outcomes emphasizes a route of freedom if they side with Vincent’s goomar, but the truth is that being single releases the shackles of relationship responsibility completely.
To say that Catherine is a unique experience in the world of gaming is an understatement. Atlus can’t seem to quit implementing Jungian/Freudian psychology into their IPs and externalizing them as an otherworldly dimension that comprises half of the focal point of gameplay mechanics with a humdrum depiction of the real world. Besides Atlus’s Persona as a stark influence, Catherine evidently borrows aplenty from other sources such as Silent Hill, Q-Bert (honestly), and the philosophies of love and its gamut of pleasure and pain. Such a lofty conceptual mix is ideal for a lengthy JRPG such as what Atlus usually creates, but the fact that all of it congeals splendidly in a challenging puzzle platformer is nothing short of bewildering. It’s difficult to recommend Catherine due to its mind-boggling puzzle mechanics, instances of heart-attack-inducing horror, and often negative attitude toward values that the Western world holds as sacred. Still, I’d rather play something unorthodox and inspired than sink into a conceptual comfort zone. For those who aren’t of the faint of heart like I, Catherine is incredibly fresh and exciting.
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