Train your ears as you make your way through Avalon Forest and you can practically hear a familiar sound.

You could quite easily argue that Bayonetta Origins is the most Clover-esque game to come out of Platinum thus far, but it becomes apparent early on that its level design and progression structure’s drawing from a very different well: Metroid! Areas and items initially just out of reach, cordoned off by the likes of icy branches or rippling lakes, become open as Cheshire gains more elemental powers. These powers sidestep the common issue of feeling like glorified keys by the degree to which they flesh out the game’s action portions, simultaneously enabling a combat system that has more going on by the midway point than most comparable titles do by their climax and bolstering the setting’s labyrinthine characterisation through mechanics. With Metroid Prime fresh in everyone’s minds after having recently been treated to an atypically faithful remaster, one would hope audiences have a renewed appreciation for how rare it is to see this sort of design even attempted in 3D, nevermind executed to such a standard that every loop and interconnection between Avalon’s different biomes feels geographically plausible.

Neither Cereza nor Cheshire will be shinesparking their way out of bounds, to be clear, but that’s just as well, because the artistry on display in Origins is made to be soaked in at a leisurely pace. To illustrate the point, here’s a collage I made out of some of my screenshots. This game’s beautiful, there’s no other word for it, but one reason that’s exciting is because it’s reflective of the hidden talent yet lurking within Platinum. The staff behind Origins includes more than a bit of new blood, including the game’s director, and (if I’m not mistaken) this is Tomoko Nishii’s first time in the art director’s seat. We may hope that her and her team’s work is recognised and rewarded, because the world needs more games that can cause me to involuntarily mumble “how did they do that?” more than once. Their interpretation of Irish mythology is especially ace – the stained-glass, crystalline whimsy of the Tír na nÓgs and the faeries is a wonderful fit for the imagery conjured up by folk songs I’d heard as a wean.

As befits a playable storybook, all involved with the narrative side of Origins demonstrate a similarly tight grasp of their crafts. The voice direction here’s easily on par with that of The Wonderful 101 and suits the characters’ expressive visuals so well, the narrator’s gruff impression of Cheshire being particularly brilliant but not so much as to outshine or overshadow Angeli Wall, whose understanding of Cereza is such that you can all but hear flashes of her future self buried under layers of insecurity and self-consciousness. Therein lies a key strength of Origins – recontextualisation. Every instance of Bayonetta’s attitude in the mainline games feels all the more nuanced having now been exposed to her humblest of beginnings. Considering what he endures in this game, Cheshire has well and truly earned his right to be such a goofball by the time he becomes Viola’s companion (maybe that’s not just tobacco in his pipe). A post-game bonus chapter redefines Jeanne’s eventual fate as a knowing act of selflessness where previously it might’ve seemed uncharacteristic of her. It all represents the best kind of storytelling one could ask of a prequel, i.e. that which retroactively enriches the rest of its franchise.

This harmoniousness is part of why the sentiment I’ve occasionally read cropping up, that Origins turning out to be as great a game as it is in wake of Bayonetta 3 is somehow surprising, is one I find a little perplexing. If Origins’ quality might be seen in relation to its companion piece in any capacity, it’s in a sense that vindicates and is complementary to that game’s principles, not which stands in contrast to them. Origins shares more than a bit of its DNA – the core axis of controlling two characters simultaneously, multiple currencies with independent purposes, a boss, several characters and visual motifs – but perhaps the most important component is the same willingness to throw caution to the wind and upend series conventions, taken to the more extreme conclusion of completely overturning the tone, art style and general formula associated with Bayonetta as opposed to “just” altering all of those significantly. It’s an already bold direction that Origins has doubled down on, which seems a hard thing not to respect when courting mass appeal would likely be so much easier.

If all hasn’t made it clear already, this is the type of game that a cynic might describe as one that doesn’t happen anymore. It’s borne of pure passion, in other words, and come the end credits, there’ll be no doubt in your mind that the team behind it are utterly in love with these characters and the world they inhabit. As rich in mechanics as in story, stuffed with unlockable costumes, riddled with the little things (check out Cheshire’s idle animations in each of his elemental forms) and representing a series with no shortage of fresh ideas, you can’t reasonably ask for more than this.

Let’s dance, and possibly pet some bunny rabbits.