Yurukill: The Calumniation Games review
One instant, Yurukill: The Calumniation Games is poking fun at the spectacle of reality TV. The next moment it might subject you to a deadly interrogation or a 2D shooter that’s a visual representation of an accuser’s mind. It’s one of those wild fusions of genres and a wellspring of creativity that is tragically infrequent.
Platform: Switch, also available on PC and PlayStation 4
Developer: Izanagi Games
Publisher: NIS America
Release date: July 5th, 2022
Price: $39.99 via the Nintendo eShop and other digital marketplaces
Yurukill is the type of crazy I crave. Manga writer Homura Kawamoto (Kakegurui – Compulsive Gambler, Cheat Slayer) imagines a dark and twisted amusement park, where convicted criminals are reunited with those affected by their crimes. Evoking both Philip Zimbardo’s Stanford Prison Experiment and Stanley Milgrim’s Obedience studies, it’s a set-up that’s not far removed from some of the messed up social science research that came out of the 1960s and early 1970s.
Competing with other teams, each duo tackles a series of escape room-like puzzles. If a convict prevails through the entire, they’re conviction is overturned. For the non-convict, the incentive is a granting of a single wish. But here’s the hook: the convict wears a collar outfitted with a poisoned needle. At any moment, their teammate (called, “executioners”) can kill them instantly, by pressing a button. For those who hold a grudge, that might also be an additional enticement.
Calumniate (verb, to make false or defamatory statements)
Smartly, Kawamoto seizes on the potential of the set-up. Sengoku Shunju was sentenced to 999 years in prison for the murder of 21 people after starting a fire in a building over a decade ago. Partner Rina Azami lost her whole family in the blaze. At first, Sengoku does not recognize Rina, who now has half a head of white hair, presumably from the trauma. Naturally, this incenses Rina, who recognizes the accused arsonist immediately. While Sengoku swears his innocence and claims to be sleeping in a car, killing him might seem to offer the sense of closure his partner seeks.
Much like Danganronpa and Zero Escape, Yurukill’s writing elevates the pulpy proceedings. Initially, members of the cast seem constructed around popular tropes. There’s an underground pop idol partnered with a devoted fan and a coldhearted son of a wealthy CEO who has daddy issues. But Kawamoto knows our expectations and deftly dismantles them, revealing some surprisingly developed characters. But like many ensembles, there’s the occasional explanation that is a bit illogical. It happens here, but the occurrences only lightly tarnish an otherwise deft storyline. Certainly, the writer deserves credit for unapologetically scrutinizing Japan’s inflexible criminal justice system (see Judgment). There are even a few barbs tossed at those with an intolerant approach to sentencing.
Yurukill = Yurusu (to forgive in Japanese) + “Kill”
While the writing is consistently stimulating, it’s some of the vocal performances that really sell it. Most notable is Yu Kobayashi’s work as Binko, the fox mask-wearing master of ceremonies. She delivers the single best voice acting I’ve heard all year, her inflection swinging with psychotic unpredictability. In a single sentence, she can sound motherly, aloof, and then, on the verge of orgasm. That kind of volatility is subtlety unnerving, prohibiting us from know what’s next. Yurukill lingers in that mode of perpetual uncertainty and it’s a better game for it.
Sure, there is a rather deliberate approach to the proceedings. Initially, teams will work together to solve the game’s puzzles. At first, I worried that one of the game’s riddles would halt my progress and I’d be forced to consult a FAQ for the solution. But Yurukill takes a relaxed approach to sleuthing as you highlight items across a multi-screen environment. Scour the scene long enough and the things you are able to investigate will gradually narrow in number. That said, some of the actual answers are a bit obtuse, or perhaps I was thinking too hard. However, there’s a three-part clue system built into the game. This helps avoid accidentally seeing a potential spoiler in a FAQ or a Let’s Play video.
Where Puzzles Developed by a Different Team?
The one quality I disliked about these segments was how awkward some of the controls felt. For one of the first escape rooms, I used two hints because I didn’t know how to interact with the game’s puzzle pieces. For some odd reason, I had to hold down a face button to pick up a cylinder, and the process felt like a playing a bad mobile port. Ideally, the game would offer optional touchscreen support, which could improve the game’s interactions.
What’s especially odd is that there’s a lot of amazing coding going on Yurukill. You’ll be occasionally floored by diminutive details like the processions of tiny particles that encircle character portraits. Each little squiggle will follow its own individual path, resembling a freeway seen from an airplane window. Developer IzanagiGames didn’t have to put this in, but they know these types of little details will be relished by devoted gamers.
There also could have solicited the help of a developer like G.rev for Calumniation Games’ shooting sections. Sure, the justification might seem a bit bit dubious, explained with a Brain (read simulated “virtual”) Reality showdown. Smartly, Yurukill doesn’t drop the character interaction, and sporadically you’ll face a cross-examination with your ship moving about to answer questions. Similarly, there is “Maji-kill time” where you’ll be interrogated. Too many incorrect answers will lead to a neck-full of poison, so remember that sometimes what people want to hear is just as important as truth. Other-thinkers will be thankful for the game’s frequent auto-saving as well as the ability to record your progress manually.
Dodging Doubts like a Danmaku
What’s especially remarkable about Yurukill’s STG stages is how every ship is slightly different, seemingly reflecting the idiosyncrasies of the convicts. Additional nuance is found in power-ups, as well as collectable resources that fuel your outburst gauge. While this can be deployed like a traditional shoot ‘em bomb, keeping the meter above 20% offering a life saving auto-deploy maneuver. Boss battles are suitably intense, with survival hinging on the memorization of attack patterns. As a payoff, this component can reveal additional information about characters.
Don’t worry if you’re not especially good at shooters. Yurukill makes a few concessions like multiple difficulty settings and even extra lives if you ace the cross examination. But the developers don’t want these segments to be too easy since they offer an epic showdown between the two partners. Agreeably, you can even acquire some practice in the game’s Score Attack mode.
Conclusion
Undoubtedly, the fusion of visual novel-style storytelling and STG segments might seem like an odd pairing. Mystery sections stimulate the intellect and the writing stirs the imagination. The vertical-scrolling action offers an outlet for fast reactions and observation. But it’s this kind of dissonance that makes Yurukill: The Calumniation Games feel so wonderfully unique. I can’t think of the last time a game has given my brain such a comprehensive workout. Hopefully, the wait for the next experience isn’t long.
Yurukill: The Calumniation Games was played on
Switch with review code provided by the publisher.
Review Overview
Gameplay - 85%
Controls - 70%
Aesthetics - 80%
Performance - 80%
Accessibility - 80%
Value - 85%
80%
VERY GOOD
In Yurukill, clearing your name requires some perceptive puzzle solving as well as fast reflexes. Imagine Danganronpa with some danmaku and you’ll have a idea of what The Calumniation Games offers.
I get these references and I’m suddenly interested!
“Evoking both Philip Zimbardo’s Stanford Prison Experiment and Stanley Milgrim’s Obedience studies”, that is.
I kind of assumed it had a good chance at sucking. Say some of the reviews this week and I’m definitely going to check it out. I USUALLY like your tastes.