Moero! Nekketsu Rhythm Damashii: Osu! Tatakae! Ouendan 2 - DS - IMPORT
It’s the end of term for me and many other university students, so I’ve been getting ready to move out of my flat. As I was boxing up my belongings yesterday morning, I stumbled upon an admittedly dusty Nintendo DS, which may have served more as a paperweight than a gaming platform since it came into my possession.
The R4 Revolution is a handy device for the Nintendo DS which allows you to keep several gigabytes of media on one small chip; originally intended for legally downloaded films and music, more often used to store pirated or homebrew games. Mine is second-hand, and hasn’t been taken advantage of yet since I don’t have the corresponding port. I had never explored the previous user’s collection in detail - content to simply mess around with recognisable characters such as Bomberman or Kirby - but as I discovered on that fateful day, some gaming experiences stay with you forever: I became queasy upon reading the words Osu! Tatakae! Ouendan.
Before we begin, please be forewarned: any game that revolves around rhythm, music or dance is not my cup of tea. Neither is Kanji for that matter, so playing the game in the original Japanese (as must anyone, since it has not been exported) may have been an added obstacle to my enjoyment - though I highly doubt it. Games of this ilk make no sense in any language; they either appeal to you or they don’t. I already knew from previous experience that I wasn’t a fan, but was curious to find out if I had missed a certain charm the first time around, or maybe my taste had since matured. I tapped the yellow start button and began making my way to a new solo campaign, with open heart and open mind, ready to overcome my prejudices and embrace the applauded wackiness of cult game among Japanophiles, Ouendan 2.
The game opens with an aerial view of a generic city; a man in a blue tuxedo toddles down the road, the word “HELP!” hovering in a speech bubble above his head. Poke him with your stylus and his story will unfold in the form of a short, surreal visual novel (if, unlike myself, you do care about the narrative of rhythm games, you are going to need a translation). The story ends, as they all do, with a distressed cry of “OUENDAAAN!”. This means that it is time for you, the player, to step in and save the day - thanks to your extensive choreography skills. You control a team of three ouendan i.e. cheerleaders, and your duty is to assist the various NPCs who have found themselves in more or less unfortunate circumstances. How? By boosting their fighting spirit with your elaborate dance moves, of course. Notably absurd sub-plots in Ouendan 2 include a hairdresser attempting to cut hair more violently than his colleague (or so it seems), and a toy monkey trying to find his way home. If you manage to tap, drag or spin the markers on your screen at the right moment, you and your squad can save each citizen - and eventually the planet - from certain peril. All to the sound of 19 equally insufferable J-Pop songs.
While I do find the manga sequences aesthetically pleasing, Ouendan has few other redeeming factors. The game itself is agony, and I’d advise anyone mad enough to invest time and money in such self-flagellation to find their own private sanctuary before doing so: a grown adult repeatedly stabbing a technicolour flurry of stars and numbers flashing on a 3-inch screen is a worrying thing to behold. By the same token, it is wise to keep your sanctuary lighting minimal, as a preventative measure against any awkward moments in which you might catch your own reflection staring desperately back at you. Each shimmy is a strain on the soul, each shuffle a Chinese burn to the brain; rhythm action is a harsh mistress, and I am only too pleased to have been relieved of shackles. Indeed, less than an hour into the game I noticed my touch screen had begun responding badly to both my stylus and my fingertips, making any attempts to plunge further into the tenebrous depths of Ouendan 2 redundant. Yet, later that day, I felt a deep yearning, rooted in the darkest part of my subconscious where my Freudian troubles reside.
Here lies the fundamental attraction of the Ouendan series and it’s Western counterpart, Elite Beat Agents. Every gamer voluntarily abuses his or herself now and then, from playing Dead Space with the lights out to playing Dwarf Fortress without the wiki: it can be fun to challenge your own stamina, as well as your character’s, to the point of depletion. Newly aware of the bittersweet joys of digital self-harm and eager to sate the Severin within me, I remembered reading that the Ouendan fan community - for the game does in fact have a fan community - had made a freely downloadable PC version, known simply as osu!
It took no time to install, and soon enough a deluge of obnoxious fonts and sickly pinks beat down upon me. I was then told to follow the directions of what sounded like a middle-aged man recording in his bedroom (in keeping with the Moe mascot of the install wizard). After an infinite loop of being told I was doing a great job and that I had potential, I found out that the tutorial does not unlock the rest of the game; you must create an account and download individual beatmaps to play. I downloaded the most popular of these, chose the “AngelHoney” difficulty and was slaughtered within seconds. While Osu Tatakae Ouendan 2 emphasises rhythm and awareness, osu! is more about button mashing. I tried a couple more top-ranking beatmaps, including “Kokou no Sousei” and “GOT MY PONY SPAM FOR YOU”, got nowhere, exited the program and felt sick and ashamed of myself for the rest of the day.
Rhythm games, along with spicy-hot cuisine and watching iJustine’s playthroughs, are one of the highest forms of masochism, and must therefore be administered in small doses. Osu Tatakae Ouendan 2 is tough, amusing, and undeniably well-executed, but may be hard to stomach for hours at a time. If reading this has tickled your twisted fancy, then please, for you own sake, enjoy it in moderation.
