Falcom have always been good, and if their recent output’s anything to go by it looks like they always will be, but from the late ’80s to the early ’90s they were almost untouchable. No matter the genre, tone, or style they set their sights on, they always seemed to come up with something special. Something timeless. Setting new standards and creating truly unique twists on what seemed to be “solved” genres were just another day at work for them.
One of those mould-shattering games was Brandish. In many ways it’s just another dungeon crawler: I guide my character through a grid-based series of multi-layer labyrinths, flipping switches, opening treasure chests, avoiding traps, and fighting monsters as I go. The Falcom Difference™ in this case is that this traditionally first-person viewed experience looks and to a large extent controls like a third-person action game, the series main hero Ares in full view at all times, holding up his shield to block incoming attacks from the relatively high-speed enemies roaming around and athletically leaping over any holes in the floor.
This unlikely combination was an extraordinary breath of fresh air when it made its PC-98 debut back in 1991, and it still felt like an extraordinary breath of fresh air when the PSP remake, newly subtitled The Dark Revenant, appeared in 2009.
Which is a bit surprising considering how little the game changed in the 18 years and goodness knows how many formats separating the two. The newer version may have been given a lick of 3D paint and a fancy new intro that is actually quite a lot like the old one, but on the whole nothing was altered unless it absolutely had to be.
I really can’t stress enough just how similar they are. The maps for each floor are identical, to the point where I was able to use the later PSP game’s official guide book to help me safely make my way through the PC-98 original. Not identical in a general “Oh, it looks like the exit for this level should be somewhere in the north-east part of the map” manner either, but in a “perfectly navigating rooms filled with hidden pitfalls completely blind” kind of way. If the safe path to the treasure chest is one step right, three steps down, and a hop to the west to the in one version of the game, that’s what it’ll be in the other too. The treasure contained within that hypothetical chest might be different… but more often than not it’ll contain the exact same item it did the first time around (and in the exact same quantities too). Why fix something that wasn’t broken? Even shop prices and Ares’ starting stats are unchanged.
This is very similar to the approach Falcom took with their earlier Sorcerian remake for Win 95/98, and more than a little brave too, considering the tepid reception games like this can receive when viewed years later and out of context. Old computer games are often assumed to be unfair, obtuse, and more than a little rough around the edges. If any game shouldn’t make the leap to what was a modern handheld format virtually untouched, surely it’s an old computer game that insisted its players made a dedicated user disc before they could get stuck in.
Brave, but exactly the right call. On every format, Brandish’s dungeon design flows like silk. I may feel at the time like I’m a little lost, or not quite sure where to go or what to do next, but in truth I’m always on the cusp of finding the key/switch/pressure plate that’ll open the way forward. I’m always worried my current sword will shatter in my hand as I fight, but I’m always a few minutes away from the treasure chest or shop containing a fresh blade too. The game didn’t get an extensive ground-up reworking because it never needed one—not that a few carefully considered small tweaks ever hurt, though.
Both versions of the game start Ares off with just 1HP to his name, accurately reflecting his unplanned and uncushioned fall into the ruins. Both versions of the game will allow the excited and unrested to carelessly rush off and get quickly killed by a weak glob of slime within seconds of starting a new game, neither pausing to say “Hey, did you notice you only have 1HP and resting can completely restore your health for free?”. But only the PSP remake begins with its hero unarmed, made to pick his life-saving sword and shield up off the floor before venturing forth.
I couldn’t have wished for a more perfect alteration. It’s an opportunity for a silent pause for thought—hey wait, maybe I shouldn’t rush out the door, seeing as I’m about as naked as the day I was born—a quick lesson in the vital skills of picking things up and learning how to equip them, an extra chance to notice Ares has only got 1HP and maybe I could do something about that, and a pointed reminder that I will not survive this experience unless I’m careful, explore, and pay close attention to my surroundings. It’s an impeccably executed capsule of all that makes Brandish’s deliciously dangerous dungeon crawling so irresistible.
The new PSP-orientated control scheme makes perfmorming all of the above a breeze. The d-pad performs the expected movements, with turning mapped to the shoulder buttons. Holding a direction on the analogue stick combined with a single button press gives instant access to three customisable item slots. Resting, saving, Ares’ full inventory… nothing’s ever more than an intuitive button press or two away. Even though the game was originally designed around some extremely well thought out keyboard and mouse controls (complemented by a really clear and uncluttered UI), playing on PSP actually felt more natural.
A playable tutorial dungeon also sits on the UMD, just to make sure everyone from series veterans to complete newcomers get off to the best possible start. It’s entirely separate from the main game, so everyone can leap straight into the action if they prefer, but it’s also easily accessed from the title screen at any time, allowing those who perhaps overestimated their abilities, or just need a quick refresher, to get the help they need. It even has the decency to have a dedicated quit option too, so everyone can bail out as soon as they’ve absorbed whatever information they’d turned up for.
The PC-98’s take on Brandish doesn’t have anything like that, but on the other hand it does make up for it with a large 35pg full colour manual, about half of which is used to tell a more detailed and beautifully illustrated version of the events mentioned in the game’s intro. Once that’s over it turns to more practical matters, offering comprehensive explanations, complete with illustrative images, of everything Ares can do. It’s a very different approach to the help found in the PSP remake, but it didn’t feel lacking. Some old computer games have shamefully thin manuals (hi, Apros) that seem to resent parting with information as basic as how to run the game, but Brandish’s felt complete.
So they’re very slightly different takes on an excellent game, and that means there’s no reason to pick one over the other? Well, that’s not quite true. Beyond an understandable desire to play the PC-98 version because it’s the original, because old computer games are really cool, and because the pixel art is absolutely gorgeous, the infinitely more convenient PSP version offers the same experience—or so close that it takes playing the two at the same time to notice the changes—just with a few helpful little extras (and an official, if digital-only, English translation) on top and enough polish to turn an already fantastic game into a timeless one.
However you choose to play Brandish, the most important thing is that you do. Combat is fraught with danger. Exploration is always rewarded, in one way or another. Mysteries lie in wait, begging to be solved. Any game can plonk an adventurer amongst some stone walls and slime monsters, but this is one of the rare few that makes me feel like I’m treading abandoned halls and walking through places few others have ever visited, let alone survived.
Few games make me feel the way Brandish does.
Kimimi The Game-Eating She-Monster 