Dragon’s Crown Pro

No one makes games like Vanillaware.  GrimGrimoire, Odin Sphere, and Muramasa feel like gifts from a parallel universe where arcade brawlers resisted the compulsion to leave the second dimension. Aided by George Kamitani’s distinctive (and audacious) art, Vanillaware’s titles have come to represent a reasoned and respected class of side-scrolling strategy and action. Dragon’s Crown­, released to the PlayStation 3 and PlayStation Vita in 2013, remains among their most admired work.

When it was released, Dragon’s Crown’s direction was a step away from the eastern influence of Muramasa and the ethereal ambiance of Odin Sphere. In its place, Dragon’s Crown drew inspiration from traditional western high fantasy sources, undoubtedly a callback to Kamitani’s work with Capcom on Dungeons & Dragons: Tower of Doom. Character classes fall into monstrously exaggerated caricatures with the brawny Fighter, Herculean Amazon, and burly Dwarf. The Wizard and Elf Classes conform to more reasonable stereotypes, as would the Sorceress if her breasts weren’t larger than her head.

Art and animation supporting the Sorceress and Amazon classes were a stress point for some of Vanillaware’s supporters. While their heavily exaggerated feminine features were visually consistent with the Fighter’s bulging muscles, they were also an unabashed depiction of monstrously disproportionate sexual features. You didn’t, for example, see the Fighter’s penis garishly highlighted as a part of his perfect physique. The argument that these women were also empowered with skill and capable of murdering anyone who stood in their way is valid, but it later buckles under the weight of damsels in distress and other grossly sexualized NPCs. Aspects Dragon’s Crown’s art are embarrassing and damage an otherwise competent direction for its visual presentation. It’s gross, and it reduces the medium to its infamous, adolescent denominator.

Dragon’s Crown’s cycle of play unwinds more smoothly. It is extremely economical in its construction and accomplishes quite a lot with limited resources. One of the six aforementioned classes is selected by the player and transposed to the medieval fantasy world of Hydeland. After a quick tour of Hydeland’s hub world and a basic combat tutorial, Dragon’s Crown’s loop is made clear: destroy enemies through several screens of a level, collect loot along the way, and bash a boss to death at the end. Afterward, sift through the loot, apply fresh gear to your hero, then repeat the process in a new quest. Dragon’s Crown makes uses of nine unique levels and modifies them with optional objectives and, in the second half of the game, a branching pathway. Dragon’s Crown is not a huge game, but its smart application (and reuse) of its assets makes it feel larger.

Combat revels in simplicity and responds to a desired level of investment. Classes can function as difficulty levels, with the descriptive text advising the player of the Fighter, Dwarf, and Amazon’s less demanding nature. Sorceress, Elf, and Wizard classes, meanwhile, cater more toward support and/or strategy. If you prefer to treat Dragon’s Crown like a normal beat ’em up and pound every opponent into oblivion—which is exactly what I did—Fighter or Amazon can comfortably satisfy that need. Greater depth can be found trying by trying to make do with either a support class or orchestrating the chaos necessary to properly use the Wizard’s abilities. Even the Fighter, with a shield mechanic that requires meticulous timing, can be tuned to properly address (post-game) harder difficulties.

Progression follows a standard pattern. Experience is earned and used to build levels that enhance a host of stats. Two sets of skill card, one shared amongst every character and one for each specific class, power-up existing moves and create additional stat buffs. Level caps exist and increase with Dragon’s Crown’s escalating difficulty levels. Meaningful variation is only found in the second half of the game, when the level requirements for the good skill cards start being met.

Allies create a tense option. Piles of bones acquired in dungeons can be revived back in Hydeland and then added to your party, as AI-controlled characters, at the Dragon’s Haven Inn. These characters do not gain levels, and you’re expected to replace them with fresh (and higher leveled) bones from the latest dungeon trip. AI partners are simultaneously clever and stupid, thrashing opponents without discrimination while also repeatedly walking into pillars of fire or wooden spike walls. Generally, however, they’re reliable and safe ushers for the first half of Dragon’s Crown.

While you can play Dragon’s Crown locally with another human being (as their own character!), online cooperative play isn’t available until the first half of Dragon’s Crown is cleared. This can take, depending on the number of sidequests you complete, around five hours. Five years ago this decision was puzzling and bad. It remains puzzling and bad. I can sympathize with Dragon’s Crown wanting to instill familiarity and share context across its player base, but a five hour holding cell still isn’t the solution. This is the kind of decision that one would expect to be addressed if, for example, the game were re-released five years later on a different console.

Despite Dragon’s Crown’s simplicity, there can be a lot happening on the screen. The player and three AI characters battling a half dozen enemies stuffs the real estate beyond its capability, making precision action (like the Fighter’s shield) more challenging. You’re also in charge of using the right analog stick to direct Rannie, a looting thief, around the screen to unlock doors and open chests. It’s easy to see why Vanillaware paired basic attacks and moves down to a single button; there’s almost too chaos much to deal with at any given moment.

Hints of artifice manifest once Dragon’s Crown gets the player deep into its cycle. The same nine environments are repeatedly scoured to complete optional quests. Sneaking through a room full of sleeping orcs or killing ten wood golems provide worthwhile rewards for loot and experience, but don’t offer any fundamentally new or engaging application of skill. “Discovering” the second half the game, in which optional paths are complimented with new bosses, is less satisfying than brand new levels.

Randomization and gashapon elements also progressively seep into Dragon’s Crown’s operation. Loot must be appraised before you can know what it actually is, meaning you’ll know it’s a sword but not necessarily what kind of sword or its damage capability. There’s also a separate price for appraising each piece of gear. Loot is also scored on a rating scale, but I never had any idea what it meant or how to increase the rating. The second half of Dragon’s Crown also takes away your ability to select a desired level, requiring a small fee to make it not random. I have no idea why any of this is like this other than Vanillaware’s desire to extend the life of a naturally shallow standard. Beat ’em ups weren’t built for dozens of hours and to pretend otherwise, at least in the case of Dragon’s Crown, is disingenuous.

Dragon’s Crown Pro functions as Dragon’s Crown’s appearance on PlayStation 4. As the Pro implies, support for 4K resolution is newly available to PS4 Pro owners. Other additions include an orchestrated soundtrack, all of the original narrator downloadable content, and cross-save compatibility with PlayStation 3 and Vita versions of the game. Unlike 2016’s stellar renovation of Odin Sphere, Leifthrasir, Dragon’s Crown Pro’s presence is static and protected. Save files are compatible because it is the same game.

Pieces of Dragon’s Crown that needed attention have not received it. Parading Rannie around with the analog stick still feels like a vestigial remnant of Dragon’s Crown’s Vita appearance and its use of the touch screen. Gashapon mechanics and forced randomization demonstrate little respect for my time. There is still no relevant reason to gate-off online multiplayer. The game can’t be paused when offline. The wealth improvements made to Odin Sphere Leifthrasir set an expectation Dragon’s Crown is uninterested in addressing. At $50, its price is slightly discounted, but it feels like an excuse instead of a consolation.

Despite its unsteady structure, what Dragon’s Crown is able to accomplish with a brawler remains commendable. Trying not to let a genie out of a lamp while fighting off pirates, flying on a magic carpet away from fire balls, shooting cannons at a giant octopus — these are all, more or less, cherished gimmicks of the genre advanced through the ages and renewed in Dragon’s Crown. Golden Axe, TMNT The Arcade Game, and X-Men Arcade are alive inside of a game that isn’t explicitly focused on nostalgia. Under this lens it’s easier to look at Dragon’s Crown and understand its weird, disorienting assembly. Perhaps it had to be this way to justify a place in 2013. Much like Dragon’s Crown’s puerile depiction of its heroines, however, it’s harder to defend on a second attempt, five years later.