![]() ![]() The quality of a stealth game is invariably defined by the responsiveness of its enemies, and your foes in Aragami -the Kaiho army, which uses mystical light weapons against your shadowy assassin-barely qualify as sentient. But while the game makes a lot of noise about the magical bird and (admittedly cool) shadow dragons that you can summon to consume your enemies, the core stealth experience feels frustratingly underdeveloped. Everything else should be window dressing. You’re a ninja you sneak around in the shadows not infrequently, you assassinate people. At its core, Aragami is a very straightforward third-person stealth adventure. Kurosu the raven is symptomatic of a persistent problem in Aragami : the game oversells its weakest ideas at the cost of the strongest. But usually his telepathically relayed directions are maddeningly vague: “Reach the next area,” or “Find an exit,” or “Infiltrate the pagoda.” You wonder: is a pagoda really something to be “infiltrated?” And where is that exit, anyway? But Kurosu only caws, and leaves you to figure it out on your own. Occasionally, Kurosu will screech at one of these barriers to give you its location. The raven’s ostensible role is to help you navigate your way through the game’s 13 missions, most of which require you to sneak through groups of enemies by disabling proto-digital “light barriers” which block your way. The game oversells its weakest ideas at the cost of the strongest But compared to Puck, he’s a dunce: no speech, no songs, no existential musings on the Christmas spirit. Kurosu is, admittedly, a stylish fellow, with a purplish tinge to his down and one wing tipped with crimson. Yamiko, your guide and telepathic companion, tells you that this captivity was arranged so Kurosu doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. This raven, Kurosu, is locked up in a pagoda that is as heavily and incompetently guarded as every other pagoda in the game’s mythical version of ancient Japan. There is a bird in Aragami whose introduction promises great things. And Mynahs are perhaps the greatest mimics of them all-provided that we don’t include that rarest of breeds, the Matthew McConaughey fan. Starlings are often mistaken for real people. Amazon and African Grey parrots are known for their conversational skills, as are corvids, magpies, and mockingbirds. “It’s Christmas,” he was heard to say on the proper day in 1993: “That’s what’s happening that’s what it’s all about.” Puck might have been exceptionally literate, but he was only one voice in a diverse avian chorus. Puck knew 1,728 words, and like others of his species, was able to assemble them into phrases and sentences appropriate to the situation he was in. In 1995, the Guinness World Records Committee officially decreed that a parakeet named Puck had the largest vocabulary of any bird in the world. ![]()
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