Games With Grey

Given their status as remakes, it follows that Omega Ruby and Alpha Sapphire evince a fixation with oldness and newness both; innovation exists alongside iteration. The same skeleton underpinning the original Ruby and Sapphire is claimed and replicated here – foundationally, the originals and their lovingly-crafted modernizations are similar, intimately so. Such excessive similarity superficially suggests laziness, as if the developers at Game Freak regarded the project unlovingly and unpassionately, clinging to old design principles. In practice, this could not be farther from the truth – the titles are brimming with passion and affection, and Game Freak show their continued reverence for their earlier works, treating them respectfully. Rather than simply adopting the skeleton and never subjecting it to revision or expansion, then, Game Freak’s love took them in a different, more ambitious direction; they collectively added new muscles and sinews where earlier they were lacking or absent outright. Mechanically, these twin titles dwarf their inspirations in essentially every fashion, as Game Freak drew upon countless years of series development and progress, implementing in these titles the best mechanics developed and nearly perfected elsewhere – see most obviously the robust and engaging battle systems.

Even more striking modernizations exist, too, chief among them being world-design and world-building – Hoenn, a land of waters and diversity, is immensely beautiful. Much of this beauty is attributable to creativity’s affectionate embrace – vibrancy abounds; Hoenn is not exclusively a land of azure waters, but is also a land of verdancy and vibrant greens, a dazzling, labyrinthian forest of emerald explored in the early game. Blues, then, have their place, as do greens, though these two hues are complemented by other hues and atmospherics – Hoenn is a diverse place, home to a sprawling, windswept desert, for instance, the winds of such intensity as to make unprotected navigation a complete impossibility. Robust cave systems are also featured prominently, while the mythological Mount Pyre is in time ascended. This Mount Pyre is not a mountain in the traditional sense, but is in actuality an active volcano, housing lava, magma and the like – it could not be further removed from those striking fields of green, those azure skies and azure seas. This Hoenn is a land of largeness, a largeness Game Freak masterfully exaggerates by clever camera manipulation – rather than being exclusively isometric, the camera is often pulled back cinematically, and the player character is juxtaposed with the environments proper, environments which frequently dwarf the player character, indirectly communicating their insignificance. These cinematic flourishes are repeated countless times as the narrative progresses ever onwards, though this repetition never diminishes their impactfulness, whether exploring seas or deserts, oceanic depths or Hoenn’s sprawling and beautiful skyscape; the games brim with unique and affecting stylistics – in presentation, a distinct identity is claimed.  

The cityscapes are similarly brimming with charm and with heart, existing in stark contrast to Hoenn’s untamed vastness thriving elsewhere, in those selfsame forests and seas. Atmospheric clashes exist, too, even here. The sprawling city of Mauville, for instance, could not be further removed from the earlier and introductory cities of Oldale of Verdanturf, locations defined by rusticness and unostentatiousness; Hoenn is sharply divided. Whimsicality and imaginativeness abound, with Sootopolis being perfect manifestation of this imagination; the city is literally crafted in the crater left behind by a gigantic meteor which had earlier collided with the Hoenn region a fair time before the narrative’s opening. The decision to craft a city in such a location communicates much of humanity, in that humanity can see potential greatness and potential beauty even in places traditionally considered as incompatible with either greatness or beauty – Sootopolis truly is a magical sight. Two other striking cities complement this magicalness – Pacificdlog and Fortree Town. That former location, quite meager in construction and design, was boldly crafted on the ocean’s surface; the city is a mere amalgamation of logs and ramshackle houses connected by those selfsame logs, which serve as bridges and pathways for the town’s residents and visitors alike. This town is defined by its simplicity, an unassuming simplicity which directly enhances its charm. These exact same statements could be directed towards Fortree, removed though it is from Pacificdlog. That latter place was a place of waters and rugged lumbers. That former place is a place of trees and vibrancy, as the town’s various structures are literally crafted in the surrounding arbors’ upper portions and branch systems. Here again humankind shows its predilections for ingenuity and creativity, able to surmount obstacles sometimes considered insurmountable. Diversity and beauty swell, and it is difficult to fault the presentation, Omega Ruby and Alpha Sapphire both excelling technically and creatively. But blemishes inevitably and always exist, both here and within all video games. In an interesting, paradoxical turn, the games are too creative. Collectively, the towns and connecting routes and waterways are of such drastic diversity as to cut down on all believability; cohesiveness is largely absent in Hoenn, which becomes like Frankenstein’s monster, a mere patchwork of differing, sometimes disparate components; in a slight failing, disjointedness overtakes all.   

The title’s narrative is a far safer construction; the skeleton remains skeletal; new muscles and sinews go unadded. In the narrative’s opening, the player character – either a girl or a boy – arrives in Hoenn from some far-off region, eventually settling in Oldale town, in Hoenn’s southernmost portions. In more narratively ambitious games, this premise could easily be expanded upon; potential poignancy is immense, resting just below the surface. Some developers, for instance, might stress the difficulties of settling in a newer, different environment, a change which evokes anxiety in even the strongest of fellows. This does not happen here, and the player character acclimates almost instantaneously. The player promptly meets the region’s Pokémon professor, then promptly meets and discourses with the professor’s daughter, May, who eventually serves as rival, emerging periodically as the narrative progresses, ever asserting her powerful if kindly presence, challenging the player and regarding the player playfully if respectfully. Overall narrative motivations are introduced almost from the first – the narrative is focused. These motivations promptly splinter off into several distinct channels. One channel involves the Pokédex’s completion, which entails capturing all of Hoenn’s myriad Pokémon species, ostensibly for research purposes. A secondary channel – also emerging early on – involves the gym gauntlet, as the player is tasked with challenging and defeating eight gym leaders and eventually the elite four and Champion which exist just above those gym leaders. This two-pronged narrative approach has been emphasized since Pokémon’s very inception – the remakes again show unambitiousness; the experience falters; player interest wanes. True, entirely new players to the series will find these narrative decisions acceptable, perhaps even excellent and engaging in nature, but series veterans are sure to be repelled – or at least unsurprised.       

The villainous organization’s inclusion fares no better – Team Aqua and Team Magma are foundationally unexciting, their motivations unoriginal and consequently cliched. In Omega Ruby, that latter organization is primarily emphasized. Led by the corrupt if idealistic Maxie, their ambition is this – reawaken the long-slumbering, immensely-powerful Groudon, a legendary Pokémon and creator of all of Hoenn’s landmasses, presumably the landmasses of the entire Pokémon universe. Groudon’s strength, then, is obviously immense, being so immense as to make its control and exploitation complete impossibilities – Groudon is literally a god of sorts. But masterfully reflecting humans’ profound and destructive relationship to hubris, Team Magma continue onwards in their efforts, specifically Groudon’s pacification and eventually its mastery. Their entire subplot revolves around this sole end, and in efforts to achieve that end the player inevitably grapples with the organization repeatedly, thwarting their efforts at obtaining this powerful object and that – the player is a nuisance, but this nuisance-like status also makes him a hero of sorts. And the player is eventually a hero; despite his youthfulness, he excels where other, more mature persons fail. But for all their setbacks and the player’s opposition, Team Magma do succeed in their efforts – Groudon is awakened and empowered. Alongside that empowerment expectantly comes destruction; Hoenn is gripped by a terrible drought, which forces the region’s inhabitants indoors for protection. The player grapples with Groudon. Emerging victorious, the world is saved, while Team Magama soon capitulates and acknowledges their corruptness and its destructive repercussions. This entire subplot, so unambitious and plain, is not necessarily alienating, though it is almost lifeless, clashing greatly with all other facets of the game’s design, where vigor and vitality were almost universally embraced. Still, the villains are bested, and the player is permitted to finish the gym gauntlet and in time challenge and vanquish the elite four and the Champion, Steven, a figure featured prominently in the narrative; Steven serves as a mentor of sorts. But while multiple narrative threads are in time pursued, they are never united, and just as the wonderful world-building is divided, the narrative is similarly divided. Team Magma is reduced to some generic villain lazily preoccupied with world domination, and the gym leaders primarily play a narratively inconsequential role – save for the late-game gym leader Wallace, these leaders exist merely for existence’s sake; squandered potential defines them all.     

Omega Ruby’s narrative failings are somewhat negated by the robust gameplay systems, consistent sources of delight, preservers of player interest even in the vast lulls of narrative poignancy or resonance. At its heart, the game is a traditional, turn-based RPG, the player character controlling their team of assembled Pokémon, waging playful warfare with the opposing trainer’s Pokémon. That the core gameplay can be so succinctly expressed is sign of a major failure, suggesting considerable simplicity and shallowness. This is ultimately a superficial, flawed perspective – the game is brimming with depth. Alongside this depth comes a wonderful, characteristic accessibility, central to the entire gameplay experience. While the games cling to this accessibility – essentially any gamer can approach these titles and derive ample enjoyment, precisely because of this welcomingness – a fair degree of complexity rests just below the surface, too. At the center of this complexity rests the team of collected Pokémon. When team synergy is eventually obtained, the gameplay experience soars; having counters to essentially all of the opponent’s strategies is immensely gratifying and validating. Crucially, success in battle is actually determined before the battle; team composition matters. In this regard, the games emphasize larger strategy over minute tactics. But tactical gameplay elements have their place, too, even as the overall gameplay’s miniscule difficulty level reduces tactics’ importance and necessity. Still, a sharp divide characterizes these gameplay experiences – rifts exist even here. The overall pacing is very erratic and occasionally frustrating. This frustration is most intense in the game’s opening hours, where opportunities for strategy and tactics are considerably diminished. Having access to the chosen starter Pokémon and that Pokémon alone expectantly lessens flexibility in combat, which does constitute a considerable portion of the overall gameplay experience. But once more and more Pokémon are obtained, once more and more Pokémon are levelled up and raised to evolution (for most Pokémon species do evolve), simplicity is displaced by complexity and flexibility. If the player can push through the slog defining the early game, then that selfsame player is sure to derive ample delight from the enhanced gameplay depth. World-design hits its stride from the first, of course. But damnably, it requires multiple hours of combat and team-building for the gameplay to hit its own stride.

But even as momentum is gained, roadblocks are still in time encountered. The gameplay’s overall cinematicness – or rather its uncinematicness – damages the overall gameplay and combat experience further. The shift from 2D sprites to 3D models had still not been perfected; models show ample and frustrating staticness. True, flying type Pokémon flutter their wings almost constantly, while all Pokémon can be seen blinking their eyes with fair regularity or engaging in very basic motion. But despite these few creative design flourishes and the considerable attention to detail they represent, battles are mostly unstylistic affairs. Some camera manipulation does occur, as Game Freak embraced paneling, which allows the player’s Pokémon and the enemy’s Pokémon to be viewed (sometimes) simultaneously. The executed moves feature excellent, frequently intense animation quality, truly communicating an executed move’s devastating ferociousness – or conversely a move’s playfulness. Still: from an aesthetical perspective, battles show consistent regression, and one can’t help but yearn for the dynamicness defining, say, Pokémon Black or Pokémon White, which emphasized motion. Immensely cinematic occurrences like mega evolution – which involve a specific Pokémon’s transformation into a more powerful and devastating entity, provided the correct evolutionary stone is obtained and possessed – do feebly compensate for this staticness. But returning briefly to the environments, clashes erupt; Hoenn proper is immensely beautiful, and one gets the sense that Game Freak had begun to embrace in earnest the 3DS’s more powerful hardware relative to the earlier DS, home to much of the earlier series’ development. But mastery is elusive, ever elusive, consider again the Pokémon models; environments are dazzling; the tangible Pokémon are not.

Omega Ruby is a surprisingly rewarding experience, even while defined by constrained ambitions and an adherence to everything which came before – see obviously the narrative, a beast of few departures from Ruby or Sapphire. Writing has likely undergone some (subtle) alteration and refinement, though these alterations and refinements are far from revolutionary, are not memorable – or even noticeable. Still, just enough narrative intrigue exists here as to maintain player interest in the overall experience, even as it winds ever onwards; engagement is never destroyed outright. Clever environmental experimentation marks another strength, and Game Freak were respectful of and loyal to the past, though simultaneously making substantial betterments despite or precisely because of that loyalty, which would otherwise be a constraint in the hands of different developers, whose wistfulness might lead them astray. Ironically, the title’s greatest failing is not necessarily a failing in isolation; greatest problems lie outside the self. For one must consider Omega Ruby alongside other primary titles in the long running, still thriving core Pokémon series – the past can never and should never be forgotten. Personally, I have a profound relationship with these earlier third gen titles, having grown up with the original Ruby and Sapphire, games I expectantly regard with reverence and swelling nostalgia. I am familiar with these titles, and even with Game Freak’s tweaking and iterations, that familiarity persists in the remakes. Indeed, I knew precisely which team I would assemble even before beginning the narrative proper. Familiarity, then, is a failure, even as encountering a formerly beloved Pokémon from an earlier playthrough is cathartic and rewarding indeed – for me, Pokémon are friends, and this is especially applicable to the Pokémon of gen three, mostly masterfully designed. None of these questions of originality could be levelled against, say, Pokémon Y, which I initially completed last summer. There, innovation and newness abounded, as manifold original Pokémon were emphasized, while the beautiful French-themed landscape was also emphasized.  

Owing to that pervasive newness, my experience with Y was far richer than my experience with Omega Ruby, which periodically treads and retreads the same tracks left behind by the base games. Enjoyability abounds here, certainly, though manifold questions could be and must be made, namely whether repeat playthroughs lose the resonance accompanying an initial playthrough. Are repeat playthroughs somehow cheaper and less engaging than that first grappling with the title? Does the experience suffer as newness erodes, becomes unrecoverable? What is the precise position of remakes / remasters within the industry? However one stands on these matters, I can certainly say my experience with Omega Ruby suffered by nature of my exposure to the original Ruby so many years ago, even though nostalgia was fiercely, almost constantly stimulated here. A comparatively brief playtime – I beat the game in just over thirty-three hours – increases the game’s accessibility, especially when considered alongside the conventional, typically bloated RPG of the present moment, a genre intimidating rather than accessible or inviting. Few are the lulls here, whether engaging in protracted exploration or engaging in battle after battle. Also, a highly enjoyable post-game narrative – dubbed Delta Episode – expands the story considerably, and its very inclusion signals much, about the industry broadly and the industry upon the games’ release. Lasting some lengthy four or five hours, were this Delta Episode released in the modern industry climate, it would certainly be released as paid DLC. Not so here, and the inclusion was clever indeed, again pointing towards developer respect for the player base. Totally original and removed from the base Ruby and Sapphire, the game ends on a minor if marked triumph. Indeed, Omega Ruby and its companion are triumphs, the deceptively simple gameplay engaging, belying considerable depth. The world design, fantastical in nature and constantly fostering playfulness and lightheartedness, challenges and ultimately rejects an all-consuming, frequently-distressing maturity, a maturity now seizing upon the industry. Rebelling in this fashion, the pair are novel, innovative – now more than ever.