Gitaroo Man is both a prime example of that specific Y2K Humanitarian Aesthetic that is typically equated to stuff like FLCL or Team Ico games, while also being a sisyphian nightmare about conquering impossibly difficult sequences that, if I was a less game-literate reviewer, would call "The Dark Souls of Rhythm Games". I stayed up all night to beat this game, foolishly opting into the "hard" option which I weaved in and out of in the late game, each of it's 10 fights taking longer than the last (with 3 exceptions). For every attempt, I stood, nodded and danced through it's vicious trails of riffs and thumb-blistering QTE's. I hesitantly give it a five, because the four others have so profoundly impacted my life in the time I've had apart from them, and I just cleared this game this morning, but screw it. I wrote 1000 words about it's lauding it's philosophy and aesthetic sensibilities, so I might as well commit to a perfect score, although I will gladly admit the game is occasionally quite imperfect. This is the first game I played after a 3-day process of installing an HDD into my console and possibly the last game I will complete before heading off to college for another year after a year off. It's become both a comfort that hurts me and the very thesis for how I've grown in the last year. Be it how I appreciate works, analyze the intent of an ideas presence, my philosophies or the types of music or aesthetic that appeals to me, this game seems to be the perfect manifestation of it. Whether anyone is reading this or not, I don't care, I just want to try to put to words out there in the void about how profoundly this game impacted me. I typically dislike rhythm games. Parappa, to me, was an aesthetic nightmare, Rhythm Heaven too menial, and many others having difficulty towing the line of too technically simple and brain-meltingly difficult. Nonetheless, I went in with high hopes. From visuals alone, I was hooked, if not concerned by the fact I had died 5 times to the second level in the game. It was almost shocking to me that I had never encountered a rhythm game that sounded this good. Sure, Muse Dash had it's moments, but each song was both perfectly crafted for the exact visual and emotional experience and a complete piece of music in a vacuum from the original IP. After the techno-bliss that was the UFO level, I faced possibly one of my greatest video game boss experiences I've had since the Bloodborne DLC or the infamous Senator Armstrong: Mojo King Bee. A sublime and jazzy combination of Disco Stu and the Bumblebee Man from The Simpsons, battling against this suave man and his legion of swamp creatures as back-up vocalists was such a massive difficulty spike from the previous two encounters that I had to give my all to get through. I downed three cups of water during my attempts, my mouth drying out completely after every encounter. I motivated myself with a snack when it began to feel hopeless. I collapsed to the floor a couple times, my heart crumbling with each overly-seductive "oh... you lose", swaying, tensing with every note, I had to become the rhythm. The thrill I felt reaching the "Final" stage of the fight with a good pool of health left, nailing every note, heart racing at 150+ BPM, someone is knocking on my door, but all I can push out is a scream to usher them away. As the final note passes, I collapse, the sense of euphoria that washes over me can only be described as orgasmic. My stomach dropped, having not eaten in eight hours and I ate my snack. I had gotten better, tapped in to what I can only describe as an extended, more dynamic cut of the Undyne Undying boss fight without the pauses to choose attacks. Each fight is not only a battle of attrition, but conceives a new way to challenge your very dexterity, all while jamming out. Each fight brings forth this very specific emotion, a new music genre, that perfectly reflects how the main character, Uichi, feel: confusion, swagger, fear, love, obligation, control, melancholy and destiny. The fights seem to each be a physical manifestation of what it means to grow up. This game broke the very limit of what I thought I was capable of, and I haven't yet been able to clear the first episode of master mode. Like life, this game beats you to a pulp, then offers it's hand to give you another chance until eventually, through all that you have seen, learned and tried, you are able to fight to the goal post and smile, the emotions spilling out of you justifying the time spent and passing on a glorifying sense of accomplishment, no matter how ultimately minute the victory may be. The next morning after conquering the final boss, I returned to Mojo King Bee and, after a few unchallenging attempts, cleared the fight with an A-rank and a nearly full health bar. Over night, I had "got good", so to speak, developed my rhythmic intelligence and dexterity enough to crush that which had, only twelve hours ago, physically brought me to my knees. This game kicked ass, kicked my ass and made me long to live. It never cheated me, only asking for absolute skill, and will continue to challenge me for days to come. I'm thrilled to know that the music of this game is now in my life and that I can always come back to it to see how much I can challenge myself and grow in it's tiny space amidst 70 other titles in OPL. As I've written this, I've had the pillows-esque Legendary Theme looping in the background, languishing after that feeling I can only describe as "Keep riding on towards the setting sun, across monumental steel bridges and grassy roads... With wind in your hair, music in your ears and love in your heart, never stop. When the gas runs out, run. When you tire, walk. Just keep moving forward and live for every second of that journey". A near perfect gaming experience I am absolutely delighted to have come upon and one I will be telling people with zero interest in retro gaming about for days to come. Listen to the soundtrack, play the game if you can (can really only recommend on original hardware to prevent experience-ruining spurious input lag) and keep living on.
And if all of that didn't sell you on it, the love interest is voiced by Princess Bubblegum.