It sounds weird, doesn’t it - the guy with an eyepatch and open leopard print shirt who licks his knife and breakdances in battle is now knocking about an abandoned park in a hard hat, banging on about “Kamurocho Hills.” Except, like all of the other ostensibly ridiculous but actually very clever writing in Yakuza, it makes sense. Majima, though? As Sinead O’Connor once sang, nothing compares to the Mad Dog of Shimano. I get excited every single time Kashiwagi, Sayama, or Date shows up on screen. This has since managed to weasel its way into my all-time top ten, while Kiwami and Kiwami 2 - the latter of which I’m currently around halfway through - aren’t far behind it.
I didn’t realize this until I booted up my first Yakuza game back in November: Yakuza 0. Goro Majima is, without a shadow of a doubt, my favourite video game character of all time - please don’t tell Geralt of Rivia I said that. In a good way, though - especially that last example. Its cutscenes vary from tranquil, tender moments to raucous rows teeming with bullets and belligerence, but when you’re actually playing Yakuza - dashing around, talking with your fists, running cabaret clubs, and engaging in construction company clan warfare - it’s all just a bit… odd. For all of its narrative grandiosity and grittiness, Yakuza is wild and wacky approximately 90 percent of the time.
0 kommentar(er)
