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As a former writing instructor and holder of an M.F.A. in Poetry (most useless degree ever, kids), I'm usually a stickler for all things writerly in videogames. To my mind, all games must have some semblance of a plot. All games need to have semi-convincing, non-cheeseball dialogue. And, above all, all games need to make sense.
"You can't hear what I'm saying, but trust me, I'm saying something pretty dumb right now."
Call it The School of All Your Base Are Belong to Us.
Ninja Gaiden II, Team Ninja's follow-up to their hard-as-nails 2004 original, abides by none of these tenets. And yet, wonder of wonders, I still relished every poorly written, nonsensical moment of it.
Instead of traditional plot points,
Ninja Gaiden II features paper-thin excuses designed only to move the game's protagonist (see? there's the old M.F.A. at work!), Ryu Hayabusa, aka the neoprene ninja, through a series of disconnected environs. You'll go from a Tokyo skyscraper to New York's Times Square to a subterranean sewer, to ... well, you'll just have to play the game to see what exciting and totally illogical locale the game whisks you off to next.
The game opens with a typical thanks-for-the-mammaries-type blonde named Sonia walking into old man Muramasa's shop. Muramasa, you may recall, is the ancient, do-rag-wearing man who also ran a series of elixir/upgrade-your-weapons shops in the original 2004 Xbox game.
Hey kids! It's time for the Crispy rhetorical question of the day: Why does Muramasa always make those go-away-I'm-making-a-B.M. sounds? Mrrr. Hrrrmpph. Ohhrrhhhgggh.
It takes all of 15 seconds for
Ninja Gaiden II to get cooking. Some rogue ninjas smash through the front door of Muramasa's shop and grab Sonia. They're about to do her in when, alas, Ryu appears, shuriken flying, Dragon Sword at the ready.
"Tonight, we've secretly replaced this enemy's head with Folger's crystals."
What happens next is violent, brutal ... and terribly, terribly thrilling.
Ryu dashes about with such speed and grace, such skill and style, that it's nearly impossible to look away. Overmatched? Outnumbered? No problem. Dive into the fray -- the X button is your quick, light attack; Y is your heavier, more damaging attack -- and give those evil minions a big, fat dose of what-for.
The first thing you'll notice in the sequel is the significant uptick in gore. Arms are lopped off. Ditto for legs. Ryu tees off on wounded enemies like the Red Sox's David Ortiz tees off on fastballs. Heads sail into the distance.
Bon voyage, heads! Have a safe flight! Write if you get work!
During the game's busier battles, pass the umbrella, because it quite literally seems as if limbs are raining down from the sky.
The game doesn't skimp on the blood, either. In fact, this just might be the bloodiest game in the medium's history. Sever a limb, and blood gushes forth like Niagara Falls. After a battle, the game's landscapes look as if a pair of 18-wheelers loaded down with bloody steaks just crashed head-on into one another. As sadistic as this might make me sound, before heading on to the next area, I'd always linger a moment in the limb piles, to admire my gruesome handiwork -- and yes, sometimes I'd rub my hands together and cackle maniacally while doing this.