After beating all of the Kiryu saga and going back to its roots playing Yakuza (thanks to the restoration patch) I can say it's quite an experience. It's no surprise that the Kiwami remakes are not just poor reimaginations of the PS2 era but barebone games on themselves, only interesting as proofs of concept for certain gameplay gimmicks that in some cases are nice and harmless (leveling on Kiwami 2) and in others can be fatal blows to pace and overall consistency (Majima Everywhere).
It is while playing Yakuza this time that I made peace with how bad I received what I thought was a poor beginning with certain good ideas and moments; this first game is flawed and poorly written at times but it echoes in a way that Kiwami cannot even begin to grasp. What here is moody there is bland, the tries and failures of an innovative and risky endeavour such as Nagoshi and his team did with this monstrous project is lack of consistency and polish on the 7th mainline game of an established franchise. I'm not gonna keep comparing even if I thought before playing this that I would. Yakuza is so much more.
Kamurocho has character, a character I didn't see fully formed until Yakuza 4 is its own beast here, a city brimmed with danger and threats to Kiryu that manages to be absolutely ridiculous while keeping a tone. In fact this is much of what happens with this game on every single level. The idea of the two sides of Yakuza is somehow a modern construct that has been developing, that's clear, and in this first approach without added "funny bits" Yakuza presents itself as a much more gruesome and sad game without going to the places the franchise has risked to go in the latest games. The plot doesn't break grounds and makes mistakes on the most stupid places (why the fuck Haruka goes to Shangri La?), having too much for its own good, closing arcs that haven't been developed enough, killing characters that could make much more alive in future games... But in the end, although flawed, it all comes together. The bullshit is minor, the mysoginy is a load of crap but it got a tiny bit better in future games (hope it gets inexistent at some point, please, Yokoyama), and the poorly built scenes make sense for the arcs. The plot is flimsy but Kiryu manages to make it not crush, as he always does.
See the beginning of what I consider the best main character in this medium as it was meant to be makes even clearer to me why he has been a totem for this franchise every single time.
Kiryu makes everything work.
His personality is as firm as the game needs to be, never breaks enough, and his idealism is always the point of conjunction for characters and plot itself to connect making the themes resonate above the mistakes, the sides coalesce; Kiryu is Yakuza at its core. Kiryu is so much Yakuza that it has permeated to the point the franchise can continue without him because his way of connecting with reality is embodied on every single aspect of this franchise. Every game tells a tale about him because Kiryu is the embodiment of the core ideals of what Ryu Ga Gotoku stands and believes.
Yakuza is colder, faulty, feels rushed and risky, unfocused but heartful, it is a first try right in its core. This game talks about a particular Kamurocho, one full of bands and people, one that Kiryu doesn't feel his own. Weird and new, closed, in need of help. Kamurocho is always a reflection of the spirit of times, of the game itself and his aspirations.
This tries so much it fails at times, but it tries its best. It's always better to fight and lose on your own terms than to not even try. Nagoshi succeeded even with failures, and this game can be a masterpiece and a disaster on spans of 10 minutes. And even if the plot trembles and the combat pales I just needed a walk through the city. To hear the music, to see the beauty and have the realization that this, right here, is everything I love; this is the Kamurocho I know from memory, the one I've visited through the years. It's a faithful companion I've seen shackled, alive most times and dead a few, but a city I, as Kiryu, can't stop coming back even with its share of problems.
I love Kiryu and Haruka to death, I love the vibes, and the final boss fight makes me chill every single time. I look at the screen and sometimes just smile thinking about the journeys, the incredible moments I have gone through looking at the back of the most iconic jacket in gaming, and looking to the sky, to the Millennium Tower, and glancing at the sheer brilliance of everything on display here. A building that turns always the main character without pretending to, a tall and threatening presence that every single time means death and loss, but doesn't want any of that. I look at the tower that wasn't here 10 years ago and now stands at the center, always the center, and think about this city that made me cry and laugh so many times I managed to discover more about myself and try my best to keep fighting. And that's exactly what Yakuza is about. What Kiryu stands for. What Kamurocho has always meant to me.
Kiwami's was dead, this is alive. Not much more to say.
It is while playing Yakuza this time that I made peace with how bad I received what I thought was a poor beginning with certain good ideas and moments; this first game is flawed and poorly written at times but it echoes in a way that Kiwami cannot even begin to grasp. What here is moody there is bland, the tries and failures of an innovative and risky endeavour such as Nagoshi and his team did with this monstrous project is lack of consistency and polish on the 7th mainline game of an established franchise. I'm not gonna keep comparing even if I thought before playing this that I would. Yakuza is so much more.
Kamurocho has character, a character I didn't see fully formed until Yakuza 4 is its own beast here, a city brimmed with danger and threats to Kiryu that manages to be absolutely ridiculous while keeping a tone. In fact this is much of what happens with this game on every single level. The idea of the two sides of Yakuza is somehow a modern construct that has been developing, that's clear, and in this first approach without added "funny bits" Yakuza presents itself as a much more gruesome and sad game without going to the places the franchise has risked to go in the latest games. The plot doesn't break grounds and makes mistakes on the most stupid places (why the fuck Haruka goes to Shangri La?), having too much for its own good, closing arcs that haven't been developed enough, killing characters that could make much more alive in future games... But in the end, although flawed, it all comes together. The bullshit is minor, the mysoginy is a load of crap but it got a tiny bit better in future games (hope it gets inexistent at some point, please, Yokoyama), and the poorly built scenes make sense for the arcs. The plot is flimsy but Kiryu manages to make it not crush, as he always does.
See the beginning of what I consider the best main character in this medium as it was meant to be makes even clearer to me why he has been a totem for this franchise every single time.
Kiryu makes everything work.
His personality is as firm as the game needs to be, never breaks enough, and his idealism is always the point of conjunction for characters and plot itself to connect making the themes resonate above the mistakes, the sides coalesce; Kiryu is Yakuza at its core. Kiryu is so much Yakuza that it has permeated to the point the franchise can continue without him because his way of connecting with reality is embodied on every single aspect of this franchise. Every game tells a tale about him because Kiryu is the embodiment of the core ideals of what Ryu Ga Gotoku stands and believes.
Yakuza is colder, faulty, feels rushed and risky, unfocused but heartful, it is a first try right in its core. This game talks about a particular Kamurocho, one full of bands and people, one that Kiryu doesn't feel his own. Weird and new, closed, in need of help. Kamurocho is always a reflection of the spirit of times, of the game itself and his aspirations.
This tries so much it fails at times, but it tries its best. It's always better to fight and lose on your own terms than to not even try. Nagoshi succeeded even with failures, and this game can be a masterpiece and a disaster on spans of 10 minutes. And even if the plot trembles and the combat pales I just needed a walk through the city. To hear the music, to see the beauty and have the realization that this, right here, is everything I love; this is the Kamurocho I know from memory, the one I've visited through the years. It's a faithful companion I've seen shackled, alive most times and dead a few, but a city I, as Kiryu, can't stop coming back even with its share of problems.
I love Kiryu and Haruka to death, I love the vibes, and the final boss fight makes me chill every single time. I look at the screen and sometimes just smile thinking about the journeys, the incredible moments I have gone through looking at the back of the most iconic jacket in gaming, and looking to the sky, to the Millennium Tower, and glancing at the sheer brilliance of everything on display here. A building that turns always the main character without pretending to, a tall and threatening presence that every single time means death and loss, but doesn't want any of that. I look at the tower that wasn't here 10 years ago and now stands at the center, always the center, and think about this city that made me cry and laugh so many times I managed to discover more about myself and try my best to keep fighting. And that's exactly what Yakuza is about. What Kiryu stands for. What Kamurocho has always meant to me.
Kiwami's was dead, this is alive. Not much more to say.