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Let's be completely honest with ourselves: if your heritage of video games begins and ends primarily in the realm of polygons and textures, chances are high that Mega Man 9 is going to seem rather foreign from a conceptual standpoint. It lacks much in the way of checkpoints, relies on tile-based sprites for its visuals, and has a difficulty curve which hasn't been witnessed in platformers for years. The length of the journey is less than that of an average first person shooter and, to top it all off, there isn't that much depth to it. In short, you're in for a very major historical lesson if this is your first real dive into the world of retro video games. For the rest of us, though, Mega Man 9 is a great game though and through, faux antiquated nature or not. It has a lot of the flaws its brethren did in the late eighties and early nineties, but the gameplay and other departments still hold up surprisingly well. Mega Man 9 is actually something beyond a $10 nostalgia trip.

Indigo Prophecy is a game that not all gamers can agree upon is a definitively good game. It defies the convention set by most other games before it. It's not an action game of any sort. It isn't an RPG with spiky-haired people. Nor is it anything else that can be classified under typical gaming standards. Instead, Indigo Prophecy serves its contents as a game for the gamers who prefer being compelled over being addicted by providing numerous unorthodox things that combine to be a unique package that hasn't ever been conceived nor will ever likely be conceived again soon.

The game is essentially like an interactive movie where one can affect the various nuances of the plot on a level that is exponentially greater than what most games allow. It starts off this trend by placing you in the shoes of Lucas Kane, a man who has committed a murder that he feels was against his own willpower. As it happened to take place in a restaurant's restroom, Lucas is not alone when his actions have taken place. As the body lies before him, he needs to figure out what to do quickly so he can leave the vicinity and thusly begin his journey of contemplation.

It's at this point where the game puts Lucas' fate in the player's hands. The restroom and its inhabitants have business to take care of, and it's up to the player to determine how it's conducted. Many choices present themselves already at this point in the game. The game provides some ideas about what to do to get past this point in the plot, but leaves the rest up to the gamer. If they choose, they can leave the crime scene early, taking care of only the essentials to allow for a quick getaway and not seem too obvious around other people. Or, they could decide to put a little more effort into covering up the evidence, making it harder for Lucas to be tracked down by investigators. What one chooses to do at many points like this in the game can have effects on how future events play out, even ones in a very immediate future.

One doesn't just control Lucas Kane over the course of Indigo Prophecy's story, though. They'll also be playing as other characters, mainly those on the other side of the spectrum from Lucas: the investigators. Two people, Tyler and Carla, are tasked with figuring out the killer at the restaurant and their motive. They do so in the typical ways one would expect from investigators, from searching for clues to interviewing witnesses to even creating a mug shot (with your help). How good of a job they do, like with Lucas, is up to you. You could choose to have them pick up every hint of Lucas at every chance. Or, you could let them overlook a few things and see what turns the investigations take from there. Their competency is up to you.

The whole time you're controlling the main characters in the game, you're doing so in a rather unusual way. The control scheme in this game isn't overly convoluted, like in many others. Instead, they usually rely on the two analogue sticks and the two shoulder buttons. That's it. Just four parts on the controller do everything you need to do. It may sound odd at first, but it really does work. While the left analog stick is used to move the characters around (albeit rather sluggishly, no thanks to the camera), the right analogue stick is used for doing all of the characters' actions. (The camera is controlled with the left and right trigger buttons, although the right analog stick can also be used for viewing things at odd angles.) If they're pushing a door open, one will do so by pushing upward on the right analog stick. If they're trying to climb something, the player will mimic the way the arms move by having the analog stick swing to the side and over to climb the object. All of these actions, among many others, are mapped to the right analog stick in an effort to make things somewhat intuitive, which is enhanced when the game asks the player to take their time doing these actions, ensuring that it is the course they want to take. If one does the action too quickly, the game will think the player has decided against doing the action. But if they take the time to do it at a more proper pace, then the character will obey and the action will be done.

But the right analog stick isn't just used for actions. It's also used during the numerous conversations that are to be had in the game. During the times when a main character is talking to someone else, various responses will show up with a time limit. It's up to the player to choose what to say for the next part of the talk. The decision is once again made with the right analog stick by tilting it in the way the response indicates. The choices in such situations can range from things such as what mood to take on for the next response to what question one feels needs the most attention next. The plot may not be overly affected by many (not all) of these choices other than what happens immediately after the choice is made. However, subtleties do lie in the game that can come as a result of the things that happened during the talk, which can be interesting to pick up if you remember such things.

There's a little bit more to the gameply after considering these things, but not too much. In fact, there's really only two more notable facets to the gameplay in Indigo Prophecy that should be noted. One that shows up involves the analog sticks yet again, prompting you to move both of them during specific sequences in the game. The times these show up can be as dramatic as some of the games action sequences to as modest as a line of questions from police. Failing to move the analog sticks the way the game tells you can have major consequences, sometimes death. However, that likely won't happen often, as these sequences are easy enough to tackle, even at a faster rate, thanks to the fact that the game conveys these commands in a non-obtrusive way on the screen. (This also allows one to get a good view of what's happening while one is participating in it.)

The other major facet of Indigo Prophecy's gameplay involves the left and right trigger buttons. At times, Lucas (or another character) will have to exert some major physical energy to get these things done. Usually, this involves heaving something heavy, but other physically demanding times use this facet as well. During those times, the player has to button mash the trigger buttons to keep the character working hard to accomplish the task at hand. While this is an interesting way to get the player to feel some endurance that the character may be having, this can be tiring on the fingers during a few times that do this, as there is at least one time where it is truly excessive when this part of the gameplay shows up. But nevertheless, it's still yet another way that the game is successfully compelling during the course of its story.

There's also a “sanity meter” that shows up during the gameplay. It functions like a health meter would in other games, where if it bottoms out, the character dies. However, this meter takes on mental, not physical, health for this meter. Thus, the way the meter is influenced is by the reactions the characters have to certain events. If a character gets into an argument with someone, then it can lessen. But if something good happens, then the meter will raise. Beyond the dying thing, though, this meter has virtually no influence on the game. No matter what mental state a character may be in, they'll still act the same way. This is rather odd, as one would expect that perhaps the dialog would change with one's mental state. But instead, the characters just always act the same no matter what. Even if they're depressed, they won't show it unless the plot automatically calls for it.

The entire ride, though, is a rather short one. The game can be completed within six to eight hours. For some, that may or may not justify the price tag that may have been paid for the game. But the plot of the game (even if it does indeed go freaky towards the end of the game) makes it well worth it. As such, since the game is so short, it's recommended that, if one has the time to do so, to just go and play the game in one sitting. It is indeed very much like a movie in that regard, where interrupting the plot before it's over can degrade the experience a tad. It's not meant to be put on hold for long, as Indigo Prophecy is presented in a way that is just meant to be experienced from start to finish, even the amount of time it takes is essentially as long as watching an extended edition of one of Peter Jackson's “Lord of the Rings” movies twice.

The presentation of the rest of the game beyond its plot is somewhat modest. The visuals are certainly not eye candy in any way at all. The models for all of the characters are decent, as are their motion-captured animation. But everything in the game in the game that there is to see is on par with what one would expect a game's graphics to be at minimum these days (although by no means are the game's graphics bad).

The sounds of the game are kind of there, per se. Some things, like footsteps, are really hard to pick up, which can deceive one into thinking that Quantic Dream just didn't put the effort into making the sound in the first place. But the other sounds come out just fine, with everything else sounding the way it should when the sound pops up.

All of the characters in the game do speak, however. The voice actors do an O.K. Job at projecting the lines they're given. They give the characters emotion when the time calls for it and they do make the characters seem believable enough (even if the corresponding lip-syncing is usually bad). However, even if the game is meant to be like an interactive movie, the voice acting doesn't quite reach the quality of movies themselves. It seems as though the game tries to do its best in that regard, but was only able to do so with B-list quality voices.

The music in the game is a hit-or-miss at most times. While many of the classical music pieces that show up in the game do a superb job at helping create the mood of the game, other pieces of music usually do a less-than-stellar job. The game licenses music from several artists, but usually does little with them over the course of the main game. One can listen to them during times where a character has free time, but the music isn't that good enough to really justify listening to multiple. The only real low point in the music is most likely when one has to listen to Tyler's bizarre funk theme song, which just appears to be out of place every time it comes up and just sounds bad overall.

Indigo Prophecy is certainly not a game for all gamers. It has a pacing that many are unaccustomed to, as well as a story to back up that pacing. There are also a few things that can be griped about in general about the game, which could turn some people away. However, the experience to be had with the game, despite a few hindrances, may well be worth it, even if it is for only a short time. But during that time, those who are open enough will discover a unique game with experiences that aren't to be found anywhere else. Truly, this game is an obscure gem in all ways.

In a genre which has been as consistently crowded as the action-adventure for years, it can be incredibly difficult to make a game which not only stands out, but also has mechanics which work well and make the experience a rewarding one. Whereas most start with the category's basic foundation and then build upon and elaborate on that, ICO often does quite the opposite to great success. Eschewing complicated systems and instead preferring a vast amount of simplicity, the game tasks players with only the absolute bare necessities at all times and takes care of the rest itself. The resulting piece, while definitely on the short side, is a superb example of where successful implementation of a game's vision is most important for its overall effectiveness and quality. ICO certainly knows what it is doing in that respect and as such comes out as being something wonderful which needs to be experienced by any and all who truly understand the unique abilities of the video game medium.

The premise of ICO and the primary motivation for moving onward are simplistically one and the same. Having both been trapped in a castle for their own respective reasons, the titular character and his companion, a girl by the name of Yorda, must find a way to escape and go out into the world. That alone may not necessarily sound thoroughly original, but the game's minimalistic style of storytelling allow it to still nevertheless feel unique. What it lacks in depth is made up for in spades in immersion, as the player is given the chance to weave their own sub-tale of sorts as they become more and more attached to Yorda.

The literal version of that attachment is actually one of the two defining aspects of ICO's gameplay. As one traverses through the castle, they are often holding hands with the girl in an effort to stay together. This is especially a necessity during times of combat, in which the castle's shadowy minions obsess over retrieving Yorda and preventing her escape from coming to fruition. Moments when she is forcefully separated from the player are incredibly tense ones, as everyone's livelihoods ultimately rest on her survival. Even when there is not any actual fighting to be done, though, moments when there is not direct contact with Yorda are still anxiety-inducing, as being away from her has its own shares of implications, even when it is needed in order to proceed forward. A bond is formed between Ico/the player and Yorda to such an extent that it is difficult not to care about her. This is despite the fact that it is impossible to verbally communicate with Yorda because she does not speak the same language as the protagonist, further emphasizing the need to be together as often as possible.

The other defining facet of ICO's gameplay is its almost complete reliance on environmental puzzles. While certain mainstays such as the movable block are present, many others are more natural to the game's setting and as such require that creativity be used during the solving process. It all looks as though it is part of a castle, first and foremost, and while few puzzles require a lot of thought, none of it is overly blatant, either. From the purposes and abilities of each acquirable weapon to what can be used as climbing surfaces, the player must often derive the underlying context of why something is there in order to get past the current obstacle and proceed to the next one. Thankfully, the process is consistently smooth with little backtracking whatsoever, making ICO a fairly linear game despite initial appearances.

What really helps set ICO vastly apart from virtually every other game in the action-adventure genre is its attention to detail in a number of oft-overlooked areas. Yorda is where a lot of this can be found and, if she's given enough mind, can be the source of minute awe-inspiring moments that are not directly related to the gameplay. If left to her own devices, for example, she may go off on her own and look at the scenery or watch some bird fluttering about in the current area. Or, if the player inadvertently hits a wall with their sword or stick, she might yelp in fright. She always manages to consistently show depth in areas where other tag-alongs in video games have been historically lacking. It is these and other such nuances in the game that ensure that the game's minor things stand out just as well as its major ones. They add plenty of spice to a flavor which is already highly exotic.

Graphically, ICO emphasizes its environments and animations over everything else. The former, while having clearly aged since the game's 2001 release, still hold up very well stylistically. They do not necessarily push the PlayStation 2 to its breaking point, but they are still well-crafted and deserve plenty of applause for ensuring that nothing ever looks monotonous despite the singular nature of the setting. ICO's animations are a very nice extension of its devotion to detail, as they often capture even more little things which could easily be missed without a close inspection. From the hesitant delicacy which Yorda clearly has before clearing major jumps to the manner in which clothing is toyed around by the wind, the animations in the game are very well crafted. Other parts of the game's visuals such as character models do not have quite such lofty standards, but nevertheless manage to be stylish in order to make up for that fact. The frame rate also stays steady for the majority of the gameplay, with only slight falters in very few instances.

ICO's sound design can only be accurately described as very deliberate. The majority of the playing time is spent without music, leaving the ambiance up to the environments. When it actually is present, it is always very low-key, being well-composed without overstepping its bounds and breaking into something overly (and unnecessarily) symphonic. Despite its seemingly obvious absence, the music is not something which is missed over the course of the gameplay, as those previously-mentioned ambient sounds succeed at immersing the player in the game's world. The game also employs a small amount of voice acting. Fictional languages are used for the verbal portion and they too do not go above and beyond their limits, which works perfectly fine. Corresponding subtitles are issued, although it should be noted that Yorda's are not in any earthly language whatsoever.

The scope of ICO's achievements are profound. Few games before it have been able to abide by a minimalistic design mentality and actually have that work to their benefit. But because it always knows exactly what it wants to do in every conceivable area, ICO's vision shines through very vividly and because of that fact, its merits allow it to stand tall as one of the few games whose essence truly will endure historical wear and tear. It is not only a testament to the legacy which the PlayStation 2 is bound to leave behind, but also a testament to the unique characteristics which only video games can wield. Consider it a must-play for anybody interested in how flexible the medium can be and how that affects its profoundness in myriad ways.

Created in a time when venerable developer Clover Studio was on its last legs, Okami is a game which naturally burdens itself with a number of expectations. Not only does it come after a line of well-loved Viewtiful Joe installments from the same developer, but an uncanny resemblance to other recent action-adventure games also raises the stakes for the quality which is to be expected from this game. Thankfully, though, Okami not only meets these standards, but often far exceeds them. The game may not be overly innovative, but thanks its method of following and executing genre trademarks extremely well, Okami turns out to be Clover Studio's most solid title to date. Additionally, its highly stylized visuals, beautiful soundtrack, and incredibly well-written localization show that it not only stands well against similar games, it's among the best in recent years. Make no mistake: Okami may superficially appear to be like many other games. But at its core is a very, very different beast.

Okami is one of the few games to hit western shores which is utterly steeped in Japanese mythology. Few moments ever pass throughout the entire game that remind one that it is indeed of Asian origin. While this would normally be an impediment for the average gamer who isn't versed in such tales, Okami does a superb job at making sure everyone is on the same page throughout the entire story. Characters and plot sequences always receive their due explanation, allowing the unenlightened to catch up very easily. On top of that, the mythology is introduced only in bite-sized pieces. This enables players to become familiar with what they know over time so they can then move onto other facets of the mythology more easily and, by the end, feel utterly immersed in the world which Okami has created.

The technique is introduced from the get-go. The beginning of the game starts off basic enough. 100 years prior to the game's beginning, Amaterasu, the Japanese sun god, as a wolf, defeated an eight-headed snake named Orochi (with some help) in order to free Kamiki Village from the task of annually sacrificing a maiden. Consequentially, though, Amaterasu died in the process and a memorial was set up in her place inside the village. However, when a bloke inadvertently lets Orochi loose again, Amaterasu is subsequently reincarnated to once again do the work she performed a century ago.

There is, however, a major difference between the old wolf and the new one: The latter lacks special powers she had when fighting Orochi. These powers form the fundamental foundation for what helps to define Okami's gameplay. Instead of being typical godly powers a la superheroes and the like, these powers are activated through the use of a brush. When used correctly, this brush can perform a variety of things that no mortal could ever dream of doing, at least easily. Amaterasu, though, has lost virtually all of these powers and must search for them again in addition to her Orochi-related duties.

The game is kind, though, and relents the first few powers early on. Things such as restoring broken or lost things and slashing are soon accessible in the beginning of the game. Over time, Amaterasu acquires other abilities to use in tandem with her brush, such as lightning strikes, wind gusts, and cherry bombs, among others. Each power is well-used and has its own applications both during times of exploration and combat, as they get used in very clever ways throughout each portion. Activating these powers is extremely easy, requiring only the tap of a button to bring up a canvas and then proceeding to draw the desired symbol. Using the brush takes up ink and only a limited amount of it can be used for each drawing. However, it does regenerate quickly enough and usually runs out only when the powers are used liberally in a given situation.

The brush isn't the only tool at Amaterasu's disposal, though. Several different types of weapons, ranging from blades to chains to shields (yes, shields) are available. Each weapon in the game can either be equipped as the main weapon or as the sub-weapon, which has implications on the weapon's abilities in battle and vary greatly depending on how they're assigned. Because the amount of ink the game grants players is limited, even after upgrades, one will be relying heavily on these weapons during combat. The combat itself is what one would expect from a modern action-adventure game, consisting of running up to enemies, hitting them, blocking their reply, and repeating the process. Brush usage notwithstanding, the mechanics of Okami's combat will be very familiar to anyone who has played similar games. With the brush, though, an extra spice is added and, oftentimes, using the brush is a requirement when fighting against certain enemies, as they are weak to certain powers. These weaknesses can often be found just by using some logic after looking at their designs and it adds a very rare element of puzzles outside of the exploration aspect of such games. There are other nuances to the combat, such as item collection, but much of it optional and not experiencing them doesn't detract from playing the game. Fighting is usually a rather easy affair in the game, though. (It's very possible for one to not even die once throughout the entire game.) But, as a consolation to those who may want to avoid possible tediousness, one can get out of many battles, although this has consequences of its own.

The exploration part of the game is also reminiscent of other action-adventure games. Okami provides a very large world to delve into and even the beginning areas where players are confined to are vast and rich with secrets. Over time, other areas are unlocked, each one being more unique than the last. Before the conclusion is reached, Okami shows locations as different as a quaint village and an underwater city, as well as many other imaginative places in-between. The game also has its share of dungeons. However, unlike games such as The Legend of Zelda, dungeon crawling is only a relatively occasional affair, showing up just often enough to show that it's there without being overdone. Even amidst such scant showings, though, the dungeons are just as excellently designed as all of the other areas in the game. Each one has its own very distinct theme which often defy the stereotypes commonly seen in other games. The puzzles, even with their low difficulty, are very creative and fit in well with its respective environment. Not one looks unnatural in its setting, allowing the dungeons to be distinct while still feeling a part of Okami's world.

While the combat and exploration aspects of it may be derivative of games which have come before it, few games implement both so well. The mechanics driving each are so solid that the idea of fixing what isn't broken is something which actually works to Okami's advantage. It doesn't toy with the action-adventure formula of today, but instead uses it as a very steady foundation and it does an excellent job at doing so. This is one of the few games which doesn't need innovation to be truly enjoyable, since the familiarity is so finely executed that it raises the standard for which other games in the future should follow should they choose a similar path. Okami is that enjoyable; it makes one forget that it doesn't innovate the gameplay in its own genre.

This is not to say that Okami doesn't pioneer areas in gaming other than gameplay. Visually, the game is one of the most artistically striking games this past generation. It embraces its Japanese background in every conceivable manner. This is most easily seen in the game's employment of cel-shading, which evokes a style commonly seen in old Japanese paintings. Each model and texture is outlined in a thick black, with colorful palettes to boot. Absolutely everything receives its due artistic treatment, allowing the reality to immerse anyone in its mythological setting with ease. Okami also happens to be one of the PS2's most beautiful games to date. In fact, it's almost even too hot to handle for the system. The graphics push the system almost near breaking point and, in one area, this is clearly seen in a very slight frame rate drop. But beyond that, the system handles the game like a charm, granting an easy ticket to a world of eye candy.

The sounds and music of the game are also done with an equal caliber. The former does its best to make sure everything sounds the way it should, while imposing its own flair at the same time. Dialog, while text based, has each character vocalizing their lines in a unique jargon, much like Animal Crossing's animalese. But unlike Nintendo's game, Okami uses this speech to help make each character unique without ever saying an actual word. One can even pick up imitations of things such as French accents through this use of quasi-speech. As for the latter, Okami's music uses a full orchestra and utterly everything is done in this manner. Even tiny ditties garner such quality. The lengthier musical pieces are where the high quality really shines above all, though. Theme songs, background music, and the like all have excellent compositions on par with even the best in other entertainment industries. Many of the major pieces are also used sparingly, too, preventing the music from ever growing repetitive. But, like Okami's graphics, what its music really does best at is embracing its Japanese background. Japan-centric instruments are often key players in the game's music and are used to their full potential. It works just as hard as all of the other fundamental pieces of the game to establish this myth-centric world and it most certainly succeeds in that objective.

Okami also has mastery over something much less emphasized in most games: localization. Few games that receive a translation today get one which goes above and beyond doing the straightforward. This is arguably what is most memorable about Okami. Every line of text, every speech, and every description has a level of polish which shows that time, effort, and love went into making the game accessible and appealing to non-Japanese audiences. Besides simply making the mythology understandable to the uninitiated, the localization defines one's experiences with Okami's denizens. Every single character, from the major to the very modest (including unnamed ones), receives their own word style and feel very developed. In particular, Issun, a character who tags along with Amaterasu on her quest for much of the game, is one who shows how beneficial a thorough localization can be for players. His speech overflows with his bubbling, vivacious personality that never fails to entertain throughout the 30-plus-hour-long journey. Touches like giving life to the characters is why Okami's localization is something which ought to be lauded as much as its more external characteristics such as graphics and sound. It's just that excellent.

Okami is an wonderful swan song for Clover. It takes everything which an action-adventure game should be and executes it beautifully. Combine that with almost near-perfect quality in graphics, sounds, music, and localization and you have a game which needs to be experienced to be fully appreciated. Don't be bogged down by its mythological background or its lack of substantial innovation. For every minor issue which Okami has, it more than makes up for the flaw elsewhere in spades. This a game which truly does have something for everyone to enjoy. Simply put, Okami shows how far gaming can go not only artistically, but also in terms of fun. If you have a PS2 and even the slightest inkling to experience something very unfamiliar in seeming familiar territory, then Okami is most certainly going to be your cup of tea, and a superb one at that.

The conventions employed by games within the music genre tend to be consistent across the board. Regardless of the catalytic instrument used, the gameplay ultimately boils down to simply matching some rendition of notes and/or beats with proper timing. In that respect, Vib-Ribbon is no different. However, a quick glance at the vector-style box art should be enough to indicate that Vib-Ribbon is really not that much of a conformist. It's a PlayStation import that not everyone will necessarily be able to enjoy, but those that have the right tastes will find a game whose charm makes up for its deficiencies.

What differentiates Vib-Ribbon from most of the other modern music games on the market can be found in the way in which Vib-Ribbon presents its content. Instead of solely being packaged with pre-programmed songs that are tweaked according to difficulty, the game lets players import any song they please from a music CD. There are indeed several songs from Japanese indie group Laugh&Peace included in the game which serve as introductions to Vib-Ribbon's content, but the vast majority of the value stems from using one's own music collection. Thankfully, Vib-Ribbon does a good job of being able to make its levels from the material with which it is provided. Although the game engine has a tendency to draw upon the bass, it'll also occasionally call upon vocals and other parts to mess around with timing. It's not a completely perfect implementation, but it's still well-done overall and makes the game worthwhile in that respect.

Vib-Ribbon's actual gameplay is probably its most defining characteristic outside of the music importation feature. Whereas other music games simply rely on hand-eye coordination involving abstract symbols, Vib-Ribbon uses the music to generate obstacle courses. The player, as the main character Vibri, has to successfully overcome several types of obstacles by using the shoulder buttons, down on the d-pad, and the X-button. Easy levels only include four different types of obstacles, which consist of a loop, a jagged line, a gap, and a rectangle and crossing them is simply a matter of hitting one of the previously-mentioned buttons correctly. Harder levels, however, also have combination obstacles, which incorporate two types of obstacles. Crossing them is a matter of determining which parts make up the combined obstacle and then hitting the respective buttons. It's an elegant control setup which becomes natural after several play-sessions and, indeed, getting familiar with the nuances of interacting with Vibri's hindrances is a must for harder songs.

All of that is essentially the core gameplay and doesn't change from song to song. However, the inherent difficulty level which certain songs may have can also bring about other mechanics. Faster songs, for example, may make the obstacles rotate while the camera is at a certain angle, which can make timing a tough matter. Other songs, however, may change the speed at which certain obstacles approach Vibri. At one moment, one might expect that a jagged line is the next thing to cross, but a rectangle may actually speed ahead of it and become the next target. The game also changes which direction Vibri is seen running, which is done mainly in intermissions which the game generates during a song to grant the player a small break. (That, however, is something which only shows up in the music CD-generated levels.) If necessary, the game also changes the tempo in timing with the music and makes the shapes move accordingly.

All of these mechanics can make for a harder experience in theory. However, most of them don't tend to pose much of a threat in practice. However, the difficulty can feel somewhat sporadic between songs. While some guesstimating can be done beforehand, it's not set in stone until the game actually starts running. The only indicator which the player receives beforehand is Vibri's pace. But because that takes place just moments before each song actually commences, it's usually too late. Thus, some surprises can show up when trying out different songs. Over the course of testing, there were a few instances where fast piano solos generated harder levels than things such as punk rock riffs. It's not too much of a detraction, but it can still be an unpleasant surprise nevertheless.

On a completely different note, the aesthetics of Vib-Ribbon are among the most unique in the PlayStation's offerings. Instead of colorful sprites or textured polygons, Vib-Ribbon opts for a simple vector-based style. Absolutely everything in the game, save for the development studio's logo, is done entirely with very defined white lines. Because it's a style which has virtually no presence in today's gaming, the meagerness of it doesn't actually hurt the game at all. The visuals also give Vibri a quasi-personality in and of itself, as no rabbit would be typically rendered in the manner that she is. (Depending on how well the player does, however, Vibri may either become something better or worse than a rabbit over the course of the game. Each of these different forms lend their own unique appearance with the vector lines as well.) In the end, it's a very modest graphics engine, but it's sufficient enough to convey what the game wants to get across as well as simultaneously give it plenty of flair to boot.

When considering that the game is a musical one, it should come to no surprise that it tackles that department well. The abstract sound effects and main menu music play just fine, as do Vib-Ribbon's packed-in songs. There also happens to be some very interesting voice acting for Vibri, which is done in jolly and psychedelic manner. Music which is imported from CDs also plays just fine and the audio quality sounds on par with any other CD player on the market. All told, Vib-Ribbon's music and sounds are good and solid, a task which is critical for a game within its respective category.

If there is one main gripe to be had about Vib-Ribbon, though, then it's the fact that the game is devoid of any real depth. The game's entirety consists of jumping over obstacles and listening to music and while those things may have been implemented well, the absence of other things to do robs it of a little value. Although a lot of motivation for playing it can come from seeing how it interprets one's own music, there's otherwise no other real reason to play the game. It's unfortunate in that respect. However, what is there does manage to be compelling and it compensates for that one major fault.

In the end, Vib-Ribbon is one of the more unique music games to have ever been conceived. Although its premise may ultimately be very short and sweet, it's one that is still rarely done in the industry today, let alone done well. Not everyone will necessary like this game for very obvious reasons and the main fault does hurt the game's potential. However, for those who are big music buffs and/or like their games developed on the more surreal side, Vib-Ribbon is a game worth playing. Just be sure to go into this experience knowing full well what this game has to offer.