Tekken is a game about decades long family feud so here’s my story of Tekken-related patricide.

When I turned 6 my dad decided to gift me a Playstation 1. We weren’t rich so we bought it second hand. He found some guy willing to sell his console and we visited him together to make sure it works. I remember his room being cluttered and messy. I also remember the game he showed us first. It was Tekken 3. It blew our minds. Never have we seen 3D graphics that looked so detailed, so animated, so lively. Coming straight from shitty famicom clones it looked unbelievable. My excitement about graphics peaked right there and I’m still trying to catch that high. That dude sold us his stack of discs as well (I also remember a shitty Mission Impossible game), but really we only cared about the “game with brawls”. When we got back we played Tekken 3 all night long. That was maybe the most memorable day of my childhood.

Years passed and I “grew out” of PS1. I didn’t have a PS2 or PS3, I got into PC gaming instead, so the rest of the Tekken series passed near me. I played some T5 on friends’ PSPs (I even showed them how to do cool Law kickflips that still worked exactly how I remembered) but otherwise it wasn’t something I was particularly interested in anymore. I’m into “smart” games now, not those meathead fightings.

But my dad, it turns out, never stopped caring. Now living a pretty prosperous life he bought his new son a PS3 (we stopped living together by then) with, you guessed it, Tekken 6. And this time it was a deliberate ploy for him to REALLY get invested in fighting. He started maining Hwoarang, actually learning his moves, trying out online. I remember my lil bro’s excitement when T7 got announced for PS4 because he knew dad would WANT to play that one, so yet another birthday Playstation was imminent. In T7 he got addicted to ranked play so he got really good. The meme about 40yo old dudes playing Kazuyas perfectly wavedashing and putting you in nasty mixup is real, except it’s my dad, he’s 50 now and he’s Hwoarang.

And of course whenever I’d visit Dad's side of the family he’d invite me to play Tekken for old time’s sake. And since he got so good it’s gotten pretty miserable. I played a bit of T7 as well since it was on PC, but never on the level that invited understanding, just mashing here and there with friends. Of course it wasn’t enough against Dad’s Hwo. And whenever he’d perfect K.O my ass he’d laugh straight in my face. Look at the gamer son who can’t play fighting games! I very much gave up on reaching his level, I just accepted my beatings at occasional family gatherings.

That is until Tekken 8.

Something clicked with me in this game. Maybe it’s fantastic learning tools, maybe it’s yet again great graphics, maybe it’s Jun Kazama being an amazingly fun character, but it got its hooks deep in me. Now I know how to apply pressure, how to put an enemy in a mixup state. I understand the concept of taking turns, the difference between crush and evade, when to use my 13i and 10i punishes. I know my character’s moves and available tools. I’m actually learning.

My Dad of course also hopped on T8. He bought an entire new laptop for the game, justifying it as a working expense! And yesterday we finally got to play some sets.

These were my most nailbiting T8 matches so far. Turns out Dad doesn’t like it when I’m ducking his highs. He also can’t do much when it’s me who’s putting the pressure and forces the mixups. I put everything into this… and finally got him. We went 4-3. I defeated my Dad. I truly am the son of the Mishima family.

It is easy to be dismissive. Be it art, people, food, events, the rapid, continual pace of consumption necessitates the compartmentalisation and categorisation of happenings. One can be dismissive in the positive and in the negative. The complex emotions elicited through our lives fade as quickly as they arise. Perhaps it is a consequence of language, an inability to express the phenomenon of experience. A meal's interplay of tantalising nostalgic aroma and comforting warmth in the belly is, for most of our lives, recalled as good - if it is remembered at all. A film is so bad it's good, some self-fulfilling label that sets expectations and ebbs the need for analysis of artistic merit and failure. A book is well-written. Your ex is a bitch. Last Christmas was good.

In the new hyperactive mode, wherein consumption happens largely for the sake of consumption, categorisation happens more readily, more aggressively, less critically. A director is washed. Your favourite is 🐐-ed. Films are kino or coal. Aesthetics are reduced to haphazard strictures, art pinned as frutiger aero, frasurbane, girlypunk neo-Y2K vectorheart nu-brute. Games are flavour of the month, kusoge, kamige, kiige, bakage, normiecore. Bring something up, and everyone has an opinion, a rote repetition of regurgitated refuse. Exhibit passion for that outside the zeitgeist, and be lambasted. Convey discontent with the beloved, be accused of poor media literacy. Are we even partaking of that which we parade around, or are we playing an elaborate game of telephone?

Even Burger King Orientation CD-i Training cannot escape unharmed. A wave of ironic praise and genuine befuddlement at why this exists, why it is revisited. One must be seeking attention for having such a quirky thing on their profile. It is impossible that it is enjoyed on a deeper level, as a response to a wider fascination, as a dive into historical (non-)import. The new hyperactive mode intentionally seeks signifiers which mark the self as interesting. An intentional facade which begs it won't be scrutinised.

But just because you have constructed this mask does not mean we all wear it. And perhaps I am being dismissive of your own thoughts. The truth of the matter is you don't care what I think, or why I feel a certain way. And to be fair, I feel the same animosity towards you. We are strangers at the conflux of comparison of preference.

I am filled with a genuine glee when I 'play' Burger King Orientation CD-i Training, but maybe it is best I keep the reasons to myself, as with so much else.

After all, you care not for what I think, so what is the difference if those thoughts are no longer laid bare.

I'm gonna play this game so much my 9 month old baby is gonna think Bryan Fury is his uncle.

Review Chapter 1:
Baldy's Basics

Yes, I play as Bryan (and I am NOT good at taunt cancelling yet) but you play as Reina so stfu. I do have some legacy skill since I've played Bryan before; he really became my guy when his beautiful bald head graced the voice-synthesized schoolyards of Tekken Tag Tournament. But I'm only here writing because I just went on a truly legendary losing-streak, dwarfed only by that time I lost one trillion SF6 player matches in a row against (fellow-backloggder) Maradona.

I beat both campaigns of Tekken 8 (The Dark Awakens and Arcade Quest) two days ago, and I meant to review it then but I've been so busy getting demolished in ranked matches to remember. Okay and taking care of a baby. Conbaby plays Eddie Gordo so 1. Scrub 2. Has to wait for the DLC.

Review Chapter 2:
Devil Inside, the Devil Inside, Every Single One of Us, The Devil Inside

The Dark Awakens is one of the best fighting game campaigns ever. Mostly focusing on formerly-likable character Jin Kazama trying to forget about the story of Tekken 6. He's just like me fr. Tekken 8 goes the balls-to-the-wall anime approach, and as someone who has been playing these games casually since I was a wee babe, it's hype.

The dialogue is certainly expressive, with characters yelling or gruffly whispering platitudes non-stop, but it manages to ride that line between corny and cool quite well. No spoilers, but there's also more gameplay variety than I expected. The overall Jin focus keeps everything from going off the rails (in terms of story cohesion) and there are plenty of major moments with the rest of the cast. Most of them. The one big Netherrealm style plot convenience was Azucena's; they came up with a fun coffee heiress character but had no idea how to get her into the story.

Review Chapter 3:
Pokkén Tournament

Arcade Quest is a way stripped-down version of SF6 world tour, serving as a tutorial for the basics of Tekken. The plot is straightforward and the dialogue is skippable. It's an inoffensive little mode if not for the fact that you play as those ugly Xbox Live Mii knockoffs, but there’s an online lobby where you chat and run around. It’s kinda fun.

Review Chapter 4:
The AI Version of Myself is Better than Me at Tekken

The practice stuff in this game is crazy; I thought Street Fighter 6's training was bananas, but this is next-level. Aside from the normal suite of training-mode options, you can train an AI of yourself (or any other player) to fight against, and you can pause any of your replays and drop into it (as either fighter) to see what you (or your opponent) could have done better. The amount of options new and old are almost overwhelming, but you're gonna need to utilize at least some of them to get anywhere online.

Review Chapter 5:
Reina and Kazuya

As for the multiplayer, it's great. The netcode is way better than Tekken 7's- still not to SF6 levels but much appreciated. I haven't had any issues, but I do use a wired connection so your mileage may vary.

Playing Tekken online is like getting beaten-up in real life. "I almost had her." Reina and Kazuya seem like the Kens or Scorpions of this game right now, at least in the lower ranks. More Victors as I’ve gone higher. I've played a couple hundred matches and have not fought a single Raven, Lars, Lee, Jun, or Bryan in Ranked (I don't know if it tries to filter out mirror matches.) I don't think Reina and Kaz are overpowered or anything, but they're obviously popular. It doesn't have a huge impact on the enjoyment, as it's good practice. I say practice but it's just me losing ranked matches.

One week post-launch edit: Reina, Victor, King, Dragunov. Kazuya has faded into obscurity.

Review Chapter 6:
I'm Dragging this out to 8 Chapters

I know we're not very far past release, and some of that excitement is sure to wear off, but the amount of fun I'm having is undeniable.

Review Chapter 7:
Sight & Sound

This game looks stunning. Tekken 7 probably looked good too but I wouldn't know because the Xbox version looked like beer goggles.

The music for Tekken 8 is fine, but you can put any Tekken song from any Tekken game on any stage, as well as the different menus. One major omission is "Black Winter Night Sky", the Tekken 2 console opening cutscene song. Where is it Harada? Why is it never included in anything? It's not on iTunes with the rest of the soundtracks, best they've got are stinky cover versions.

Review Chapter 8:
Tekken Ball

TEKKEN BALL BABY! WE'RE SO BACK! GON DLC WHEN?? TEKKEN BALLLLLLLLL!!!! PS TEKKEN BALLIN!!!! Tekken Ball Tekken Ball gonna go play some Tekken Ball to the beach music from Tekken 4

"Review Epilogue" DLC coming soon

I quite literally owe everything in my life to Franziska. Not even fucking around in a hyperbolic way here.

It's because I played this in 2013 and said "hey, she's kinda cute. I'll use her as an icon on Twitter" that I now have a wife. She followed me there thanks to my profile icon and the rest is history. Meeting her also led me to befriend one of her friends, who helped us get our current job which allowed us to move out and live together. The butterfly effect is VERY much real and my experience with this game is proof enough for me.

Oh, and uh, game's pretty good too. I love Franziska, love the soundtrack, and case 4 is pretty intense.

🤡🤡🤡🤡🦁🦁🦁🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐 TURNABOUT BIG TOP GOATED 🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🦁🦁🦁🤡🤡🤡🤡

the opening montage of Up really destroyed a whole generation's concept of effective nonverbal storytelling by making them think a parade of prefab domestic clichés embellished with flavorless Milestone clipart set to overbearing music is in any way sophisticated or interesting huh

this girl is a tasteless unfuckable dweeb and i wish her all the worst. the way she's simultaneously a self-insert wish fulfillment character AND the most hapless and bland cozycore dork imaginable is really dark tbh. inexcusable taste in stuffed animals! stop decorating with your diploma already you absolute MONSTER!!! When a sappy celeste-adjacent chiptune ballad plays as it's revealed via context clues that she came into her own after a trip to Japan (and returned w/ a bevvy of basic tourist kiosk tchotchkes) and now feels confident enough to explore rockabilly-lite fashion...hell. It's all so flavorless and antiseptic--she is 30 where the hell is her hitachi wand and why CANT i stuff her horrid garb into the closet in the ideal organizational format--the pile? the subject here is so unpalatable that i honestly would have preferred they scrap the whole progressing narrative concept entirely (esp. when its used in such an unambitious way that communicates very little beyond trite sentimentality; life has its ups and downs, #gratitude, don't make time for haters who dull your shine, the more things change the more they stay the same, when god throws out a mug he buys you a wacom tablet) and instead present a medley of varying rooms/spaces occupying a plethora of subjects, aesthetics, and experiences, but also idt the same devs who chose this protag have anywhere near the worldliness or savvy to attempt something like that. impressive amount of unique isometric assets and cool implementation of foley though!

Hi, I'm Joey.

Sorry, it's been a while since I played catch.

So you'll have to forgive me if my aim is off.

Nice throw!

You want to know how I've been?

I haven't been great lately.

I know we only started playing, but I can't pretend things are fine.

I should be honest, I haven't been great for a while.

Watching that ball pierce the air, I thought I should break the silence.

Maybe that was inappropriate, I'm sorry.

Good one!

What's that?

You don't mind?

I appreciate that, thank you.

It can be hard to get others to lend you an ear when you need it.

Why am I down?

Good question, I don't fully know.

For a while I thought it was missed medications.

Something tangible and real I could blame it on.

But I'm starting to think that's not the case.

You really don't mind talking about this?

If you'd rather just play catch that's okay too...

Okay, if you're sure...

I suppose it's fitting to have a heart to heart while we play catch.

We're taking turns.

Allowing each other space and time until we're called upon.

Sorry, just a silly thought.

I don't think it's the medication though.

At least, not anymore.

It feels more and more like a part of me is missing.

Maybe it always was, maybe I was just made aware of it...

★☆☆☆☆

Maybe what I'm missing is people.

It feels like people come and go a lot in my life these past few years.

I don't blame them, of course, things don't last forever.

But I still miss them.

Some were in real life. People move. People change.

I guess that's true online, too.

I'm guilty of coming and going myself.

It feels harsh in retrospect, but sometimes I feel so afraid and trapped and I have to run.

I'm sure it's that way for others, too.

I wonder if they know I miss them?

I wonder if they miss me, too.

★★☆☆☆

Maybe what I'm missing is time.

Since graduating university and the whole COVID thing, time doesn't seem the same.

I always have too much, but too little.

But when I feel like I have too much, it's nice to while it away.

Like we're doing now.

Thanks for playing with me, by the way.

I know you could be spending your own time in other ways.

With other people.

It's nice to be able to just talk.

When I feel I have too little time, I again become scared.

I fear I've spread myself too thin, made too many promises.

Like I'm trying to do too much.

And so much of it feels fruitless. Like the only one who cares is me.

Or worse, that not even I care.

Maybe that's a sign I shouldn't do the things I don't care about.

But that abandonment hurts as much as the slipping of time does.

★★★☆☆

Maybe what I'm missing is myself.

It feels all the time like I'm living a lie.

Like I'll break kayfabe at some point, and the old me will show itself.

But I know the old me is the same me as the me I am now.

Sorry, that was a marble-mouthed way to put it.

Still, it's as if I've given parts of myself to others.

And to the things I make and do.

Without giving myself time to regenerate those parts.

It's as if I'm letting genies out of bottles and hurriedly trying to shove them back in.

Like I'm scared of the consequences of my own actions.

I think I'm scared that I am who I am.

That my relationships, my life, simply are the way they are.

And sometimes things go great, we get to go a little longer.

Just like when one of us catches or throws perfectly.

We get to keep things going a tiny bit longer.

Just like when we reach a new level.

We get a deeper bond, a sense of fulfillment, and get to keep going.

Only I've been missing too many throws, fumbling more catches than I make.

And I know that one of these times, I'll turn to grab the ball.

Pleading that things can continue a bit longer.

Only to turn around, and see another person I'm playing catch with leave.

See another piece of myself leave.

★★★★☆

I'm sorry, I don't mean to cry.

This is supposed to be a nice game of catch.

And you were so nice to let me talk about myself.

And I've gone and ruined it.

Things always end up like this.

Maybe that's why I try not to get close to others.

I end up hurting them just as I hurt myself.

I end up needing more and more affirmation and validation.

I take and I take without giving back.

I'm making things worse, aren't I?

I just know when this is over, I'll have to go back to pretending things are fine.

And they just aren't.

★★★★★

If it's alright with you, I'd like to stop playing catch for now.

Thanks for letting me talk your ear off.

Despite the tears, I really enjoyed this.

And I really hope you'll play with me again.

Maybe next time I won't be so sad.

But maybe I will.

And maybe it won't matter.

Uhmm... I know this might be silly.

And that we don't really know each other that well.

But I hope I get to see you again.

Get to hear your voice again.

And until the next time, I hope with all my heart that things go well for you.

Or get better for you.

And until the next time, I will miss you tremendously.

Not because I'm sad you're gone.

But because I was so happy you were here.

Sweet as sugar.
Sweet as young love.
Sweet as can be.

Nostalgic and enraptured with youth as Norwegian Wood.
Magical and intertwined as Kafka on the Shore.
Two blurred lines proceeding apace in parallel as 1Q84.

Perfectly self contained within its own narrative.
Abound with the peculiarities of children.
Spare and sparse.

Father's guidance.
Mother's embrace.
One's own destiny.

Comfortable.
Joyful.
Warm.