I have a small stable of games I love returning to once in a while, and Castlevania: Symphony of the Night is among them. I own the original Playstation version (the actual original: it lacks the flu-snot green bar that labels it a best-selling re-release) and the emulation that was packed with the PSP's Dracula X Chronicles. I've finished both multiple times, but I decided that wasn't enough, so I downloaded the game once more on XBLA. Having lost my original Playstation at the bottom our sock drawer something like five years ago, it's nice to play Symphony of the Night on a large screen once more. It'd be nice if the Achievements weren't lame, but eh, if wishes were horses, and all that.
Symphony of the Night is still firmly in the top quality tier of the Castlevania hierarchy, but aging gamers draw in vital nutrients through message board fights about whether or not an esteemed game still deserves its lofty status. Over the past handful of years, Symphony of the Night has ignited similar arguments. Is the game as brilliant as we remember it? Was the Inverted Castle a stroke of game design genius or a cheap trick to extend gameplay?
Konami's premiere “Metroidvania” was one of the first titles I purchased on the Playstation: it helped usher me over the turbulent change from my teenage years to my adult years, which came with the inevitable realisation that you can't always do what you want to do, but there is no one who can stop you from enjoying the things that make the transition a little easier.
I'm undeniably biased towards Symphony of the Night, so I'm useless in a debate about its place amongst gaming history. At the same time, I don't think anyone can deny how lovingly put together it is. Every time I play Symphony of the Night, I discover some new thing: a mouse scurrying, doves nesting in the crevices of the Outer Wall, or (as I discovered very recently) the fact you can kill a toad by throwing Holy Water on its tongue, which pleases me greatly.
And even if you still insist on crossing your arms and saying “A-bloo-bloo-bloo awkward item screen,” you will surely recall how quickly the gorgeous piano melody in Orlox's Quarters made your annoyance melt away.
I think of Symphony of the Night as an integral soldier in the last stand for console-based 2D adventures. Sony of America was desperate to leave video gaming's “kiddy” image back with the colourful sprites on the Super Nintendo, and the 32-bit era of platformers—which birthed some of the finest in the genre—would have suffered for it if the likes of Konami and Capcom hadn't engaged in justifiable blackmail by threatening to hold big-name 3D titles if Sony wouldn't America have Castlevania and Mega Man. Interestingly, Symphony of the Night is a dignified and mature game regardless of its “primitive” presentation. Religious symbolism abounds, something Japan tends to be very hit-or-miss about. But it's all in context and it even aged well: heraldic imagery, spectral priests who listen to confessions, pious ghosts who cross themselves, and even a beautiful, sun-lit cathedral decorated with an ornate cross.
Incidentally, I still think Dracula has chutzpah for building a fully-loaded cathedral in the middle of his castle. He's all like, “Take that, God!”
I'm aware of Symphony of the Night's flaws, not the least of which is some kind of mapping joke that makes it prohibitively difficult to explore 200.6% of Dracula's abode. Certain gaps in the map will only be filled by doing a strange dance that involves shifting into a wolf, then shifting back after jumping. But who needs the reward at the end? Empty-headed Maria chases after Alucard. So what--
Oh crap, getting 200.6% is one of the Achievements on the Xbox 360 version of the game, isn't it? Bugger.
Related Links:
Suffering Castlevania Fatigue
Watcha Playing: Castlevania - Portrait of Ruin
Castlevania: Cruse of the Stupid Red Headed Kid
