Polar Fire: Ikaruga Review

Ikaruga is nearly perfect.  Despite a reputation for controller-smashing difficulty, it is easily understood and immediately gratifying, snaring players with hypnotic action while subtly teaching its layered depths.  Every system, enemy placement and visual cue is carefully designed to work in concert, while anything that would distract from the core experience has been excised.  Treasure's confidence in the fundamental appeal of the shoot'em-up is clear from this commitment to minimalism, but created a wholly unique take by introducing a pervasive twist to the old formula.

The genius of the polarity system is in how thoroughly it permeates the game.  Excepting hard obstacles such as walls, every interactive object is considered black or white.  The player switches between the two colors at will, harmlessly absorbing incoming shots of the same polarity and dealing increased damage to enemies of the opposite.  This simple mechanic introduces a high-stakes risk-reward dynamic that forms the basis of Ikaruga.  Beginners maximize survival chances by focusing on their constant, partial invulnerability, then graduate to more exposed strategies to destroy foes faster, thus limiting future threats.  As players grow  comfortable, they notice other systems and start balancing quick removal against the opportunity to absorb more fire, thus charging special attacks and accumulating extra points.

Eating bullets and blowing things up are only the beginning.  Forgoing the byzantine scoring of most danmaku, Ikaruga features a basic but flexible system.  Eliminating three enemies of the same color in a row (a chain) yields a bonus that doubles in worth with each consecutive chain, plateauing after the eighth.  Consequently, unlike its predecessor Radiant Silvergun, players do not need to ignore foes to crack the leader boards, nor are they hopelessly out of contention for missing or breaking a combo.  Learning to take advantage of this is almost inevitable within a few hours, given the guided layout of early levels.  Once the patterns reveal themselves, pure survival feels woefully inadequate.  Clever enemy formations and seemingly inaccessible spawn locations offer chain-hunters much to puzzle over.  Formulating new strategies, then reevaluating them as new insight frequently strikes, becomes an addicting feedback loop.  Its depth is not limitless, but the game rewards time invested with inspiration and revelation.

The sublime gameplay is wrapped in an attractive, complementary package.  Undulating, mesmerizing bullet patterns are common in the genre, but Ikaruga's blue and red-tinged projectiles make for an appealing aesthetic.  The color scheme helps distinguish the polarities of each element, while the overall effect induces almost trance-like attention; this makes the experience of weaving through pixels-wide gaps all the more gripping.  Backgrounds are hazy and washed out, emphasizing the action but still providing a nice sense of depth during down moments.  Despite the intense fighting, the soundtrack is almost relaxed, establishing a mournful but determined mood and orienting the player in each stage.  The music fits the game's deliberate pace, subtly encouraging considered play and cautioning against hasty maneuvers.

Playing Ikaruga is akin to navigating two normal vertically scrolling shooters simultaneously.  Attending to only half of the action at any given time while unconsciously tracking the remainder, then swapping focus between them at a moment's notice, is key to doing well.  To aid these mental acrobatics, Treasure wisely strips away all unnecessary artifice, leaving a cohesive, accessible experience that effortlessly caters to any skill level.  Those willing to brave its infamous difficulty will find a masterpiece of design that gives new life to a tried-and-true genre.

Invisible Noir

At least they had the courtesy not to draw after forking over the chit.  Its metallic surfaces shined coldly in the flickering drum light and strangely looked far more valuable than it was in my outstretched hand; I briefly hesitated.  The sob story was transparent and insulting, as was the threat, but I was too tired to start anything.  After the thugs in Seattle it was clear that these two were not worth the trouble.  Besides, I was already in over my head; no sense risking a couple of corpses with connections.  Still flush from the win at the 'Pit, 150 credits would hardly be missed.  The shakedown would have been more irritating than unsettling but for the unblinking asshole standing not 20 feet down the alley, just watching the fleecing.  Was he in on it, or had Cairo really gotten so bad?

I retreated to a nearby alcove to consider my next move but was soon startled by screaming.  Cautiously peeking around the corner, I witnessed one of the most surreal scenes of my life.  The con closer to the burning barrel had somehow managed to light himself on fire and was flailing about in the street.  Transfixed and still bristling, I made no move to help.  More bizarrely, neither did his partner or the man down the alley.  Only after the burning hustler had collapsed in a smoldering heap did the other con take action.  Pulling out a boltcaster and shouting obscenities, he charged the motionless observer, firing a barrage of toxic darts at close range.  His target, finally reacting, began running tight circles in front of his attacker like a manic pin-cushion until he too lay crumpled on the ground.  Apparently satisfied, the remaining man holstered his weapon and resumed his post near the drum.

Just what the hell was going on in this town?

Untitled Story Fragment #1

He was almost a caricature of handsomeness, as though God was making fun of girlish fantasies, but she took him home anyway.  Dawn banished him from the city, presumably to some sun-blasted rock for the rest of eternity, but she didn't mind.  If her roommate heard anything that night she was uncharacteristically, almost disappointingly discreet about it, yet soon there was no ignoring her increasingly inadequate wardrobe.

Mission Statement

Welcome, nobody, to my latest blog!  Enjoy the mild ride until such time as I lose interest or am driven away by even vaguely negative comments.  Unlike previous attempts, there is no stab at a unifying theme, no focus to speak of, just whatever tickles my fancy one day only the be regretted the next.  As such, no co-conspirators will be diluting the pointless verbosity, ill-considered word choice, shallow insights into frivolous topics and painful fiction that will soon litter these virtual pages.

Why, you might ask if you existed, am I bothering to undertake a theoretically public endeavor like this if I insist on being so unrelentingly negative about it?  In service of escaping my own head, a loose-leaf journal just seemed to lack the necessary potential for feedback that could drive the creative process and tolerance for criticism.  Plus, I can't read my own hand-writing.  Consider it a trivial act of courage for an introvert hoping to one day make something he is proud of.  Or, failing that, some jerk adding one more irrelevant voice to the din.