Valfaris is a collection of conventional run 'n gun elements amplified by one of the gnarliest and most committed heavy metal aesthetics ever pledged to pixels. Ideas that belong to Valfaris may not be as well tuned as the Greatest Hits it so liberally samples, but it's easy to overlook in light of the vibrant carnage. Valfaris, in the parlance of its god, shreds.
Valfaris brands itself as a heavy metal infused 2D action-platformer. Nothing is misrepresented. This is exactly what Valfaris is. Your grizzled and vomitus-looking protagonist Therion could stand in on the cover of any heavy metal album released in the last thirty years. His always-angry opposition is composed of rabid wolves, decaying organic creatures, and several varieties of filthy robot or humanoid figures. Blood and carnage isn’t a byproduct, it’s the point. Valfaris looks like a Genesis game that accidentally went to a future where Lisa Frank’s art was corrupted by Satan. It looks awesome. It plays…fine.
Or, to state Valfaris’ influence more directly, it plays like Contra, Gunstar Heroes, or Alien Soldier. You run in cardinal directions, slash things with large swords and shoot things with a variety of threatening guns. All of Valfaris’ levels are packed with an endless supply of fodder enemies, interrupted with giant mid-bosses, and concluded with screen-dominating menaces. Valfaris takes pride in its harsh difficulty, although its fondness for checkpoints favors mercy more than punishment. Like the best of the run ‘n gun genre, Valfaris is only as hard (or as easy) as you’re willing to make it.
The accompanying story is delivered, mostly, in dialogue exchanges between Therion and his AI/ship assistant, Hekate. These sequence bookend each level, providing a vague objective that places Therion on a quest to find his father, Vroll, and figure out why the planet of Valfaris has turned into a hellscape. Along the way Therion takes time to jaw with the current denizens of Valfaris, most of which are angry at Therion and/or the miserable state of the planet. All look appropriately undead and monstrous, with Therion’s sniper rifle-wielding brother, Itnan, taking the crown for Grossest Looking Dude. Valfaris’ story is a perfunctory piece of its composition, but the dialogue is reliably caked in death, decay, and loathing. It’s so metal.
Accepted genre standards are obliged. A sword-adjacent melee weapon and a slow-firing gun with infinite ammo are always available. An accessory gun is always on deck, but it consumes energy from a special meter. That blue meter is replenished by melee-killing anything with your giant sword. Shield use can also consume the blue meter, but it’s a special shield, too. If timed right, the shield can grab and repel incoming fire and briefly destabilize enemies after properly timed melee blocks. The shield presents a classics risk/reward scenario and, with its relationship to the special blue meter, Valfaris makes that mechanic one of its own.
There are times in Valfaris when its slavish devotion to Contra seems too sycophantic. It takes a while to come to terms with its eight-way shooting. Cardinal directions and diagonals are all that is available, stifling attempts to aim any object perfectly in sync with your present angle. This is particularly frustrating during boss encounters that feel explicitly designed to take advantage of those angles. Valfaris is being honest here, it doesn’t ever break its own rules, but it’s a method of operation that feels more obtuse than it does comfortable.
Like any run ‘n gun worth its bullets, Valfaris delights in providing myriad methods of firepower. A standard machine gun, the Hellwraith, gleefully empties bullets into straight-away targets. The Envoy of Destruction deploys homing missiles into its most threatening opponent. Therion’s Call (my favorite) shoots a dimension-ripping laser while the Hellhammer is a shotgun stand-in. Swords receive this treatment as well, with blades like the Jelly Whip forming a gross ranged option and The Bastard trading reach for power. Valfaris created well rounded assembly of death instruments distributed evenly through its adventure. Best of all, every time a weapon is found, Therion celebrates by head banging.
Valfaris’ most unique asset is gamble between safety and bravado. A sort of currency, called Resurrection Idols, can be found in each level and spent at special stations to create checkpoints. Or Resurrection Idols can be kept, each one adding a little extension to your life bar and special weapon meter. There are always enough Resurrection Idols to create a checkpoint at every station, but there are some extras tucked in out-of-the-way places, too. If you’re good enough to plow through Valfaris and its bosses unscathed, you may not need those checkpoints. You could also be like me and only think you are good at Valfaris and needlessly repeat sections without creating checkpoints because, well, what if I need that big ‘ol health bar later?
Less impressive is Valfaris’ form of player progression. Blood Metals can be found in obscure piles of green skulls or by eliminating a handful of overpowered enemies. These Blood Metals can be pumped into your weapons to increase their power four times, with the final round demanding an even more limited item, Blood of Valfaris, to top it off. In theory this good, making Valfaris’ suite of weapons more powerful feels great, but the limited availability of Blood Metals and ever-expanding inventory of weapons means you could dump a bunch of Blood Metals into weapons that aren’t as effective (or as contextually necessary) as the new weapon you just found. Without a way to re-spec my Blood Metals, I played the back half of Valfaris worried that I made the wrong choice by putting a dozen Blood Metals in the starter gun. I wish I would have powered-up a different gun, or at least not traded some of my Resurrection Idols in for more Blood Metals.
Amidst all of that, Valfaris is happy to submit to every available convention of its genre. Elevator sequences? You bet. Getting inside a giant overpowered mech? Of course. Climbing and dodging sequences? They’re all here. Hanging off a flying creature and dodging lasers? Yep! Hitting switches, avoiding horizontal death punches, limited-time platforming, rising lava — it’s all inside of Valfaris. Compared to Steel Mantis’ last effort, Slain, Valfaris has a much better understanding of how to merge the obligations of a genre with active player engagement and response.
There are times when Valfaris’ penchant for raw death and gotcha-brutality go a bit too far. I lost count of the number of bosses who, after I zeroed their health bar, stuck around for a self-destructive sneak attack that I couldn’t avoid. Certain battles, like Bloodroot Demon and Master Drone, position Therion’s opponents in areas that are too easily conquered or rendered impossible by distance or weird bits of the level. Every boss fight, inevitably, always feels like it’s joined by one too many ancillary fodder enemies, thrown in just to cause the player’s attention to drift off for a cheap death. Valfaris isn’t bullshit, but certain segments may briefly arouse those suspicions.
Still, it all seems like a fair trade. Valfaris’ good-enough rendition of classic run ‘n gun games allows its unique style to persist as a vaguely original creation. It’s enough to erase Slain from any part of my memory, and gives credence to Steel Mantis’ ability to combine their love of classic action games with their relentless appreciation for blood-soaked drum slamming and melodic shredding. Valfaris is like a lot of games, but not a lot of games are like Valfaris.
Valfaris is a collection of conventional run ‘n gun elements amplified by one of the gnarliest and most committed heavy metal aesthetics ever pledged to pixels. Ideas that belong to Valfaris may not be as well tuned as the Greatest Hits it so liberally samples, but it’s easy to overlook in light of the vibrant carnage. Valfaris, in the parlance of its god, shreds.
