Tales of Vesperia

A Tale taller than you'd imagine

Namco's Tales series has always taken the backseat, operating as the family-friendly teatime drama to Square Enix's ritzy primetime spectaculars. As a series it's often unfairly overlooked: Tales of Symphonia was one of the best JRPG's of the last-generation, even if it did pilfer its storyline by grafting together Final Fantasy VI and X. And regardless of its staunchly traditional approach, Namco's series has always had a habit of being consistent, accessible, engaging and witty. Tales of Vesperia is no exception.

It certainly basks in its JRPG nature, with a quintessential tale so typical of the genre it borders on a particularly redundant trope. All the recognisable themes, symbols and motifs from the ever-familiar genre are proudly on display, first and foremost that of a random group of adventurers spearheaded by a bold, flawed hero who manages to quash his personal demons in time to defeat impossible odds and save the world from complete annihilation.

Vesperia earns some points for having a genuinely tainted hero, however, in Yuri Lowell: not content with the fat cats muscling all over the little man, he turns his back on the large, corrupt Empire so he can, with any luck, dish out justice in his own inimitable fashion. He does, too, performing some pretty dubious actions over the course of the game, the narrative occasionally slowing down to ponder on ethics whilst its characters demand justice. Such notes certainly help Tales of Vesperia stand out amongst the sea of watery, tepid JRPG storylines by adding a bit of a fiery kick.

It's a form of storytelling that, when done right, the Japanese produce with an exceptional gusto; bold, bright, idyllic fictional scenery providing a pleasant counterpoint from their real-life sprawling industrial complexes, and thematic notions of fate, destiny and certain unique skills that set a single man out from hordes of unrecognisable masses seem like natural escapism from a country filled with some of the world's most populated cities.

Tales of Vesperia, then, becomes the quintessential rural retreat, with its quasi cel-shaded graphics presenting a visual splendour entirely befitting of the game's trappings. It's the classic tale of one man, his pipe-smoking dog, and a ditzy girl of noble descent. And, before long, a diminutive, timid monster hunter, an esoteric mage with skewed priorities, a dodgy but affable thief and a pointy-eared Kritya (read: elf) who acts a bit aloof and doesn't wear many clothes. And, finally, there's you, the player, going along with the gang to mash a lot of the B and A buttons so you can grind your way up to victory, obtain a sense of closure, and hopefully notch up a few achievements along the way.

It's a testament to the quality of both the scriptwriters and the localisation team that the wheels of narrative are kept pleasantly turning, with an above-average voice cast breathing life into bajillions of cut-scenes and skit overlays. It's even quite funny in places, a rare treat in a genre where some developers' idea of comedy is all too often to do something like create a race of poo monsters. The game trips up, though, by forcing the player to press A after every bit of dialogue, effectively ruining the well acted cut-scenes unless the player has an ear for dramatic pauses. I certainly don't.

Throwing aside issues of innovation, because I'm more than happy to play a game that so nicely accomplishes in stereotype, the biggest problem with Tales of Vesperia is simply a complete lack of any grand, villainous bastard. Bad guys tend to spend their existences off-screen, dreaming up diabolical plans in secret bases, only to pop up as comical pantomime villains five minutes before you hack them to itty bits. Without a Kuja, Sephiroth or Kefka, much of Tales of Vesperia is left languishing, with the story trying to drum up exciting locales and events without giving you the motivation to actually play through them. Most of the plot is eked out in sombre night-time sections, the player watching as Yuri natters away to each member of the party individually about recent events and difficulties in the road ahead, but often it's hard for the player to emotionally conjure up the required sense forward momentum the scene demands. The cast seem to simply waft along the storyline, threatening to drift off into the ether before being anchored back to the narrative about two-thirds of the way through the game.

Which, coincidentally, is when you figure out what exactly is going on and who the big git is that you've got to (after levelling up a bit) thwack around the face repeatedly until he dies. It's very much a functional script rather than an epic one, which might disappoint some, but it's all done with enough careful attention to ensure an altogether pleasant, unremarkable adventure.

Of course, it also wouldn't be a Tales game without its recognisable side errands: assembling an encyclopaedia of monsters and items; competing against your canine sidekick's nemesis; gambling with your vast fortune; becoming a waiter/waitress; slaying the rock-hard-but-optional series of giant monsters; synthesising everything into more powerful other things; collecting a series of titles for each character and, of course, the regularly bizarre cookery mini-game.

And when you're not doing said errands or watching dialogue, you'll usually be fighting a plethora of monsters. Combat is a real-time affair, typical of the series, semi-fixed to the 2D plane and with the player controlling a single member from their party of four at any one time. In most instances this will likely be effeminate protagonist Yuri, whose usefulness in drawing the assemblages of nasties away from the weaker members of the squad is second to none. He's pretty nifty with a blade, too. It's still, and always has been, a fairly simple structure that provides flash, extravagant moves at the press of a button, and whilst it lacks the occasional tactical depth of a more turn-based system it more than makes up for it in accessibility and speed.

Granted, linking together combos and detecting weaknesses have been better executed in action games for yonks now, but Vesperia succeeds by suffusing its atmosphere and engaging world over the combat. It's very much a game that's more than the sum of its parts, and the developers should be commended for such a conscious, metered effort to combine so many elements of the JRPG genre together in such an affable package. Amongst its main contemporaries - Star Ocean: The Last Hope, Lost Odyssey, The Last Remnant, and Blue Dragon - it emerges the clear winner.

Namco are hardly attempting to reinvent the wheel; they're not even trying to apply any forward momentum to the genre. It wallows in stereotype, but excels in consistency. No single component stands out, but it's in a combination of pleasant, well-realised bits and bobs that the game becomes a largely positive experience. With Tales of Vesperia Namco have produced a simple, unassuming adventure that's brimming with enough charm to easily make up for any lack of inspiration.

85%

By Martin Gaston