Today's look is at a perfectly adequate game that I'd be happy with never playing again. 2003's Castlevania: Lament of Innocence isn't bad in the slightest. If anything, it's aged remarkably well for a 3D action-adventure. The combat has strong fundamentals, offering both i-frames and a perfect guard system. Allowing players to tackle the first five dungeons in any order is wonderfully old-school. The real-time inventory system is Dark Souls before Demon's Souls was ever a thing. I even like that the secrets are more esoteric than usual, although it meant spending the latter half of my playthrough flipping through a guide while loudly alternating between "Seriously!?" and "How could I have ever found this myself?" Unreal... To be outsmarted by a game with such Shakespearean dialogue as "I'll kill you AND the night!" Either I appreciate the humility, or I have a humiliation fetish.
Point is, there's a lot that this game does right, but I'm trying to get as far away from it as possible, because I know that I'd hate ever having to replay it. For starters, there are an unrealistic number of hallways to run through. Complaints about an Igavania with too many hallways mean as much as complaints that the water is too wet but hear me out for a little longer. The hallways here require a commitment. They take an unusually substantial amount of time to run through. Necessitating a button-press to enter the door on the other side is a minor inconvenience that eventually transforms into a railroad spike that's continually pounded into my cerebral cortex. I'm annoyed by empty hallways, yet I'm also annoyed when there are monsters wandering through them.
Part of the blame lies with Leon Belmont and his pitiful speed. The man runs like a Vampire kidnapped somebody else's bride-to-be. This issue would be mitigated by the wolf's foot relic and the axe + green orb skill, if either were tied to easily replenishable resources instead of MP or hearts. Now I could utilize the dupe glitch to give myself an endless fount of whatever's needed to make treks through infinite hallways easier to stomach. I could... but you already know that I won't. Also, I'm very sorry that this review couldn't survive three paragraphs without getting lost in the fog. The discussion has jumped from corridors to mid-game abilities to duping an endless supply of jewels that'll break an otherwise solid game into tiny pieces.
Where I think all these words are leading me is that the secret to making Castlevania: Lament of Innocence a tolerable replay flies in the face of my beliefs. If I want to zip through the most mind-numbing obstacles, then I have to rely on exploits that trivialize the game. Either I don't cheat and suffer Leon jogging through the castle, or I end up with an infinite supply of everything. Couldn't there have been some sweet movement tech instead? Like maybe a backflip-cancel? All I want is some weird inputs to perform that'd make getting around faster and more interesting.
At least a portion of this review should be devoted to everything that happens between the halls, so let's change the subject. Rooms are essentially an excuse to shove a bunch of monsters into an enclosed space, prompting Leon to whip their undead carcasses until the music changes and the doors unlock. Before I sidetracked myself, I admitted that the combat fundamentals here are strong, a statement that I'll gladly take to the grave. The vampire hunter learns new attack skills at a consistent pace, and unlike... say... God of War, he'll actually make use of them all. There's a satisfying amount of feedback, especially when certain foes explode into a mess of blood. The bosses are all pretty great as well. They're probably the most I've ever enjoyed a "Castlevania in 3D" fight. Besides looking great, each archfiend has a unique move-set and tends to require a particular strategy. Their moves change as the fight progresses, which is always lovely to see.
Also impressive is the wide assortment of subweapon skills. Axe + green orb is of course essential for traversal, but it's also a great charge attack for smashing crowds. Abilities such as axe tornados, triple throwing-daggers, or cross-shaped shockwaves are all tied to the player's current subweapon & orb combination. I couldn't begin to suggest a tier list or anything of that sort, but there was rarely a skill that I thought needed a buff or nerf. Also, since orbs are dropped from defeated bosses, the order you tackle each dungeon will affect what skills you have to work with. It's a subtle yet welcome way to inject replay-value.
Variety however is a weakness that this game can't overcome. Change the color of their bones or give them a helmet, but skeletons will always be skeletons, prone to performing the same functions whether it's minute 1 or hour 6. Besides them, players can expect to find evil dogs of multiple flavors, large-armored knights, and maybe four or so other enemy types that become increasingly uninteresting. Considering the always-hellish nature of game development, I should be more forgiving of poor enemy variety. I should be...but maybe another day. Perhaps this feeling would've changed if fights took place in locales besides flat empty rooms. There are, of course, exceptions, but not enough to matter.
If you can believe it, somewhere underneath these criticisms is a very real love for Castlevania: Lament of Innocence. I just don't think I'd have the patience to sit through it again. This is entirely due to the repetitive series of hallways and rooms that make up the sheer bulk of it. Everything else lands in the realm of damn good, and that's not even accounting for the excellent audiovisual aspects. I'll say that this game deserves at least one full playthrough.
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