While I would feel entirely justified in defaulting to the latter form of analysis in order to convey all that you need to know in order to be an educated consumer prior to the release of Sin and Punishment 2, my job description places me somewhere within the first category, which means that you probably demand more from me. Let’s do a bit “more” and see where we end up. Being able to come into the experience and absorb it as a standalone product (meaning that I haven’t played the original) leaves me without the tools for direct comparison, but I’m probably not alone given the history of the original. (I would be curious to know exactly how many people have actually downloaded and played the game via the Virtual Console). However, having a history of warm associations with Treasure (the developer) and the types of games that inspired Sin and Punishment 2, which now seem to be much more varied than I had originally anticipated, I certainly did have expectations.

Initially being flung into a world that felt so completely drab, sluggish, and derivative was rather distressing. Anticipating a one-two punch to the senses from the get-go, a natural hook-jab pattern for just about any media, the first stage left me more than a little concerned. What I didn’t understand at the time, however, was that this first level was actually coined “Stage 0,” better described as a “tutorial stage” – a ten minute jaunt which, I realize now, I could not have survived without. Sweeping aerial vistas flooded with projectiles from above (and beside, and below) with relentless turrets scattered across the tattered wasteland spread out before me, feel almost as Ace Combat as they do Space Harrier. Death trap corridors of reflex trials requiring unwavering concentration conjure up memories of 8-bit Contra on steroids. High-speed underwater tunnel dives had me thinking that someone slipped a little Endless Ocean into my Rez. Three hundred-sixty degree boss battles gave me a glimpse of what Mega Man Legends 3 might play like if Cave got their hands on it. Side-scrolling segments – yes, as in a true side-scrolling shooter, á laGradius – feel entirely competent, to the point where I found myself wondering whether it might be worth it for the developer to explore such a game type as a standalone product.

The ability to engage with enemies in both the back and foreground from this perspective also proved that by applying the proper control scheme, the two planes can symbiotically coexist. (Yes, I am looking at you when I state this, Chair). The transition between all of these perspectives and play styles, which I am confident there are plenty more of, is fluid and engaging, demanding the player to adjust their stance with equal flexibility, only adding to the tension, and enjoyment.

While many of Treasure’s games are notable for their complex, multi-tiered boss battles, some games feel designed specifically to get the player to battle bosses, such as Gunstar Heroes. Now, imagine a game that provides lengthy, fully fleshed-out “stage” experiences, while regularly eliciting what can only be described as “boss fatigue,” causing the player to cry out multiple times at various points of each stage as their endurance is constantly taxed to the limit. Keep in mind that this is the good kind of fatigue, and that the “crying out” is as much an exclamation of rapture as it is exhaustion. You can draw your own parallels from there. 

Thankfully, the game offers both a forgiving and supportive auto-save system which always seems to work its magic with the most impeccable timing. Even though I was presented with a Game Over screen quite regularly (I enjoy these types of games; I never claimed to be good at them), I hardly ever found myself replaying areas, as even bosses have multiple checkpoints strategically scheduled throughout the showdown. This allows even the players who weren’t reared on some of the conventions of old-school difficulty to find success without having the experience dumbed down in the least. Attempting to predict the enemies, environments, or demands of Sin and Punishment 2 is a futile use of your senses. 

Treasure has crafted a world and an experience where the term “cohesion” manages to encompass anything under the sun while still managing to do the term semantic justice. Which brings me to an important point: I am unable to conjure from my memory bank’s trivial video game tidbit laden storehouse some other atelier from which Sin and Punishment 2 could have possibly been born. As we continue to debate over what a video game and the accompanying experience “should” be and who it is that is taking the “proper” steps in getting us there, Treasure shows us that maybe we ought to learn to be alright with letting a creator entertain us with his or her weapon of choice, leaving it up to the user to experience the creation on its own merits, and not on the “standards” of a medium.

You want me to gripe about something, you say? Fine. I cannot for the life of me determine the utility of the jump button. In a game that is essentially 90% aerial and where a simple tap of the thumbstick (which you are constantly manipulating into a frenzy, anyway) performs the same trick, I find the feature baffling. The end result, however, is one less button that I feel the need to concern myself with, which felt much more liberating than it did oppressive upon coming to this realization, allowing me to then allocate my limited attention on more important things – eminent lasers. Who knows, maybe the game will pull an Earthbound and utilize the profitless feature in some profound way that will prove to be the critical lynch pin against the game’s final terror. Honestly, I couldn’t care less. Either way, I’m going play lots of Sin and Punishment 2, which makes me the big winner, regardless. 

I’ll pitch you one more. A sense of immersion in the overall experience – maybe a “trance” is more appropriate – is essential for a game like Sin and Punishment 2, serving as both a more effective conductor of the narrative, as well as simply being an aid in assisting the player in their potential for success. Audio plays a major role in this. The sound in the game, whether it be the music, sound effects, or voice work, are all highly competent. My concern, and this is me being subjective, is in the lack of options allowing the player to tweak with this balance. I often find the music to be the auditory component that contributes most significantly to the trancelike experience that I pursue in these such titles, and while I appreciate what the game has to offer in this department, the overall balance just feels . . . off. This wouldn’t be an issue except for the fact that the music is what seems to have taken the back seat in the default audio balancing, sounding somewhat tin-y as part of the whole experience. The fact that all of the audio settings are maxed out by default at the start of the game means that there is no way to add “more” to the music without neutering the experience in other areas. I just couldn’t find a setting, whether it be in-game or on my television set, that would supply me with the auditory balance that I was looking for. Note the first-person in the previous statement.

Actually, my only real concern, and this is neither the fault of Nintendo, Treasure, the nature of Sin and Punishment 2 as a product, or the consumer, is that in the current marketplace where the fierce battle for gamers’ time and dollars is becoming a sea of experimentation, a great disturbance in the force has severely skewed the end users’ concept of value. With once flourishing genres (like arcade-style shooters) now being relegated to a sub-ten dollar downloadable marketplace, a ninety-nine cent standard developing as the expectation for gaming on-the-go, the growth of free-to-play options, and packaged product “value” increasingly being interpreted in terms of “high-definition” and “completion time,” I fear that even many of the most dedicated gamers for whom a game like Sin and Punishment 2 was essentially created for, may end up being swayed by the turbulence of current mass-market and economic tides. The forces acting here are formidable and complex, and the consumer alone cannot be viewed as the scapegoat for what may wind up being a less than ideal rollout of the game. My hope is that pointing this out might just prove more significant than my examination of the product itself. With that, let’s recount the notable suggestions from our critique:

Less Good:

• Largely useless jump mechanic
• Lack of control over audio settings

More Good:

• Crazy fucking awesome

Feel free to apply what you feel to be the appropriate weights for each of the items in the checklist above using your own logical discretion. Well, I’ll be damned if we didn’t end up right back where we started.