Patapon review (PSP)
A pat on the back for Sony Japan.
Patapon gets under your skin from the word go. Pata-pata-pata-pon. Within seconds I found myself tapping my foot, grinning ludicrously as my combo level rose and my tiny hunting party of Yaripon advanced through the shimmering blue grasses of Patata Plain. Seldom does the audio take such primacy in a videogame nowadays- an unfortunate developer oversight, given that music is among the most immediately accessible forms of expression. The first thing I did upon completing the demo was to play through it again for the benefit of my girlfriend, and we were humming the beat for the rest of the evening. Chaka-chaka-pata-pon.
Part rhythm-action, part real-time strategy, Patapon is a leftfield masterpiece which brings out the best of the much-abused Sony slab. At the risk of over-doing it, this is also a game which reminds us that warfare has a heartbeat. The thud of the drum, the brazen harmonies of the battle song, the tempo of bare feet on the earth... Patapon taps into a primeval register alien to the dispassionate, spy-satellite’s-eye-view of the theatre of conflict proffered by most other real-time strategy games.
Time for a beatdown
The Patapons are a tribe of walking eyeballs whose sole ambition (other than to crush their enemies and hear the lamentation of their womenfolk) is to quest for the end of the world and look upon the mysterious ‘IT’. They are, however, almost powerless to do so without the invigorating leadership of their god, into whose invisible sandals you step at the game’s beginning. By beating the Pon drum in your possession you manage to revive a band of fallen Patapons, who equip you with the corresponding Pata drum and ask your aid in repelling the neighbouring, cuboid Zigotons. Over the next thirty or so missions you’ll replenish the Patapon army by hunting for meat and materials, engage the Zigotons in story battles and slay titanic Guardian creatures to obtain rarer items and the souls of ancient Patapon heroes.
The game’s big twist, of course, is its control scheme. Rather than drag-selecting and clicking, you give the Patapons orders by tapping out sequences of drumbeats on the face buttons in time with the background rhythm. There are six combinations to unlock using four types of drum. Hit square, square, square and circle for instance and your troops will advance, singing the sequence back to you, pata-pata-pata-pon. Maintain the rhythm for long enough and your Patapon will enter Fever mode, a state of frenzy in which they fight better, move faster and become capable of breathtaking feats, firing three arrows in place of one, or leaping skyward to hurl spears over fortifications. Fumble the timing and the hyperactive little balls will lose their impetus.
The challenge is hence to balance the game’s dual intensities, losing yourself to the beat sufficiently to keep the Patapons energised while remaining level-headed enough to adapt your tactics to the changing tides of battle.
All we need is a drummer...
While six drum combinations may seem restrictive, the effects will vary depending on the composition of your army. You can take three squads into battle, equipped with weapons and armour looted from the fallen. If you’re facing a dragon with a fearsome head butt it may be sensible to put a Tatepon shield wall in front of your flimsy Yumipon archers, but if you need to advance quickly against entrenched opposition you may prefer to bring along Kibapon riders, feeble at first but capable of smashing infantry aside when frenzied.
Back at Patapolis you can view your battle spoils at the Altar, generate or revive warriors at the ovarian Mater Tree, and play rhythm-action mini-games to obtain raw materials. The mini-games are mildly diverting but very definitely secondary to the battling.
Innovative, tactical and compulsive though Patapon may be, it isn’t without its flaws. The unprecedented, bipolar nature of the mechanics feels awkward at first and will, I suspect, prove an acquired taste. More concrete criticisms can be directed at the repetitious level flow and uneven difficulty curve: sometimes you’ll have no alternative but to grind through a few hunting missions in order to buff up your stats for a boss encounter. This is partly compensated by the variety on offer in the story missions: one level saw me defending a catapult as it punched holes in a Zigoton fortress, while another had me using a special drumbeat to summon rain in the midst of a scorching desert.
...For people who only need a beat, yeaaah...
Above all else, it’s the audio that will keep you playing, a table-thumping fusion of African percussion and Gaelic hornpipes inflected with elements of pop, R&B and electronica. Much as the Patapon’s spiritual predecessor rewarded you for collecting more Loco Roco by increasing the number of vocal parts in the background music, so your Patapons will dance, sing louder and introduce their own variations when you get the timing right. It’s a wonderfully intuitive way of representing progress.
The game is a treat for the eyes, too, not as technologically accomplished perhaps as Loco Roco but just as personable. The two-dimensional engine scales without a hitch and the aesthetic is lucent and organic, with French artist Rolito channelling both Dr Seuss and Samurai Jack. Particular mention should be made of the manner in which the visual design plays to the 16:9 screen ratio and control layout: the world map is a horizontal strip of parchment, and the Patapons gesticulate north, south, east and west in mimicry of face button input. The bipedal orbs themselves are among the most immediately lovable virtual beings ever created, doughtier and less saccharine than the Loco Roco. You’ll never tire of the sight of your ragtag host, bristling with motley weapons and eccentric helms, marching on a uniform Zigoton emplacement.
In theory Patapon should be one of the games for which the PSP is remembered; in practice it is unlikely to find favour with the Pro Evo/GTA-playing fraternity, and will quickly be forgotten in the face of upcoming blockbusters Chains of Olympus and Crisis Core. It’s heartening to see Sony persistently giving space to titles of this vision and calibre, despite inevitably poor sales figures. While far from faultless, this is one game PSP owners cannot afford to miss, and hopefully one that will capture the hearts and minds of developers for years to come.

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