~ The Summer of low bitrate and pizzicato ~
If you spotted me walking the streets in the distant summer of 2008, chances were I was listening to either the MP3 soundtracks from Rule of Rose or Echochrome. I played both endlessly on my way to and from work, when taking the occasional walk, or when out shopping for supplies. Two completely distinct games whose music is brought together by seemingly fortuitous parallels, in that both composers, who have a background in classical music composition, opted to write music for a string ensemble to perform.
Minobe & Sakamoto were born a few weeks apart in the fall of 1972. The former started as a self-taught musician capable of composing from an early age, who had a long career at SEGA/WaveForm before joining Delfi Sound. The latter was a child prodigy who went on to found a specialised VGM label, Noisycroak, who also collaborated with SEGA. Both have graduated from Waseda University in the 90s.
Equally curious is the fact that the following title in the Echo series, the PSP game Echoshift, was scored by Minobe himself in 2009; while Sakamoto returned for the final entry, Echochrome II, in 2010.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 4.5 out of 5.
PlatformPlayStation Portable (PSP)GenrePuzzleRelease Date May 1, 2008DeveloperArtoonPublisherSony Computer EntertainmentMODESINGLE PLAYER
Gameplay:Echochrome is a mesmerizing puzzle game that challenges players’ perception of space and perspective. In this mind-bending adventure, you control a character navigating through Escher-esque environments filled with…
This is the fourth game in my Backlog Roulette series, where each month I spin a wheel to randomly select a game on my massive backlog that I must play (though not necessarily to completion). These wheel spins occur on the monthly preview episodes I co-host with my friends on The Casual Hour podcast.
You want to hear something super lame? Echochrome is all about your perspective.
OK, maybe I should explain why that’s lame. Echochrome is literally a game about perspective. You rotate a camera to hide, reveal or alter the level’s geometry to coax a character you don’t directly control to navigate to specific areas of the map. It’s Lemmings in the style of an M.C. Escher.
So when I say it’s a game about your perspective, that’s some on-the-nose, too-clever-for-your-own-good writer bullshit. Except that that’s not what I’m talking about.
The perspectives I’m talking about are not within the game’s clockwork levels, but outside of them. In the menus. In the presentation. In your approach to the game as a player as you hold your PSP and look upon it.
Echochrome does not function like a traditional game. You don’t go from Level 1 to Level 2. I mean, I guess you technically can, but good luck figuring out how. Because when you load up Echcohrome for the first time — after getting through its initial tutorial — you’re thrown into its main menu, greeted not by more expected options like “campaign” or “time trial” or “challenge.” Instead you’ll see the words “freeform,” “atelier,” “canvas” and my favorite “etc.”
Love it. No notes. Well, maybe just one note: What the hell do any of these things mean?
“Freeform” is the top option. Let’s try that. It dumps you into a puzzle. You solve it. You’re dumped into another puzzle. You solve it. Maybe this is a traditional game after all. But then you notice a letter and a number shown at the beginning of each puzzle. B4, F6, D1, C3. But you don’t think much about it. That is, until you reach a puzzle you can’t solve. One in which you realize the game has a 10-minute time limit per puzzle.
This is B8. I'm too stubborn to look up the answer, but I just can't figure out how to get the last echo. I hate it.
Cool, cool. While I think on that puzzle, let’s go back to the main menu and check out “atelier.” There’s no Ryza or Sophie to be found though, only a 8x7 grid of level options. And now the codes you saw on freeform make sense. Those were level identifiers. Row B, stage 4. Which means freeform is essentially a randomizer, whereas atelier presents them in the game’s natural order, of which you’re free to tackle any of the 56 stages however you wish. You go back to the one that stumped you before — B8. But after five minutes elapse, the failure bell rings. You only get half the time to complete a level in atelier mode (I guess because you chose the level yourself?)
And then there’s canvas — a neat little level editor to make your own stages — and etc., where the options, saves, credits and a replay of the tutorial go.
The game itself? Oh, it’s pretty cool, I guess. The perspective mechanics can feel a little inconsistent, requiring very digital outcomes through an analog control scheme. And the time limits feel rather pointless (if the game is already tracking your time on each puzzle like a score, then what’s the need for a limit?) in a game that should be as pleasantly relaxing as doing the daily crossword or sudoku. And it is equal parts frustrating and funny when the soothing disembodied lady voice says “oops” every time you let your Escher lemming fall off the world.
But more important to me is how the game bucks traditional names, rules and conventions to do its own thing (as the late Sony Japan Studio was wont to do with all their games), giving it a novelty and charm that endures to this day. Echochrome II though, requiring both a PS3 and a PlayStation Move controller to play, ages quite a bit worse unfortunately.
Many years ago...a green PSP-3000 with MGS Peace Walker included. Checking the Playstation Network for demos. DBZ Tenkaichi Tag Team and Echochrome. This song.
Man...
