Sometimes I feel like I’m missing the nutrients it contains Ganbare Goemon series, but then I remember that I still play them. New fan translations are still coming in. I’d like to secure future deliveries though, and that’s where Baker enters.
Or so I thought. To be sincere with you, although the inspiration is clearly present, Baker is also deficient in the type of nutrients found in Ganbare Goemon. This may not be as devastating as it sounds, but it definitely means you need to check your expectations.
Baker comes from Good-Feel, the people behind Kirby’s Epic Yarn AND Yoshi’s Woolen WorldMore relevant to this discussion is the fact that they were created by people who were on the run from Konami. The team includes many who were involved in the development Ganbare Goemon games, including Etsunobu Ebisu, who helped program the second game for the Famicom in 1989 and whose appearance became the basis for the character Ebisumaru, Goemon’s sidekick.
The core of the idea behind it Baker was probably supposed to be a spiritual successor Ganbare Goemon. You have a blue-haired protagonist traveling through a crazy version of Japan, and the antagonist uses the strategy of staging an endless festival to enslave the population. The protagonist is a tanuki, not a noble thief, and it’s newfangled Japan with classic elements, not Edo-era Japan filled with anachronisms, but it’s close enough.
From this point on, the differences begin to accumulate. Baker it plays very well, while I don’t remember ever playing in 3D Goemon game that didn’t feel loose and wobbly. The titular character attacks with taiko sticks (and an included drum), which are used alternately with the left and right bumpers. Not necessarily To have alternating, and the game is basic enough that you don’t need to master all the moves, but it’s arguably more addictive than hitting people with a pipe.
Unfortunately, after about a dozen levels I realized I wasn’t having fun. You travel from prefecture to prefecture, but the representations are a bit too basic. They’re obviously weird abstractions from reality (I don’t know why Okinawa is an underwater resort), but they’re often wide, flat corridors filled with groups of enemies.
The game does get better after the first act. So much so that while I was starting to dread fighting my way through the rest of the 50+ levels, that fear was alleviated after the initial 16 levels. The progression changes so that you clear regions one prefecture at a time, with more intriguing level variations thrown into the mix. I didn’t really fall in love with it later on, but the game became fun enough that I didn’t feel like I was slogging through until I had to fight my way through the last substantial chunk of the game for this review. Don’t do that. Play it bit by bit.
The level design never becomes fantastic, but it does become more fun. The visual variety between prefectures can be quite immense, and modern obstacles are constantly raised, sometimes on a single level. For every two that seem symbolic, there is usually one that is more surprising. It wasn’t enough to fully absorb me, but it makes the game enjoyable.
It is tough to determine why Baker is not as good as (I admit that it is often abrasive) Ganbare Goemon series, but I think the main reason might surprise you: there are no hotels. There are no heated springs to bathe in (though there are levels set in them), no stupid, pointless mini-games to waste time on. There is no assortment of restaurants that all serve the same function. There are no cities at all.
It may seem that this comparison is unjustified. Baker does not have to copy wholesale the (very plastic) formula Goemoncan be something separate. Many of the side activities in Goemon may seem unnecessary. But on reflection, they are necessary to connect journeys and break up levels. They are a vector that draws you into the game world, even if it is bizarre.
Without them, you have over 50 disconnected levels. Since you never see a Japanese citizen in these prefectures (unless they become those masked people), the world feels empty. As wonderful as it is, there’s a void in it without someone telling you that while Oracle Saitaro may be a lunatic, at least the invasion meant they didn’t have to work all day. Instead, all you hear are conversations between Bakeru and the circle of friends he gathers around him. It’s pretty lonely.
But even ignoring vibrations, Baker the moment-to-moment gameplay isn’t spectacular. There’s platforming and modern mechanics added throughout, but nothing deep. You gain four transformations by the end of the first act, but they’re also not deep. There were a lot of levels where I didn’t employ them at all. They’re entirely combat-oriented, except for one, so transformations are rarely required. I think it’s a mixed bag not to give each one a unique ability.
While it’s not thrilling, the gameplay is fairly polished. The frame rate would drop in the Switch version, but that’s the only major flaw I noticed. The graphics are immaculate and colorful, the controls are tight, and the combat is responsive and fluid. But I think that’s part of the problem. It’s so polished that it doesn’t have any edges. Baker ambition never reaches very far, so it never really stumbles. Mundane but well-executed is rarely better than ambitious and shaky.
At least the soundtrack is pretty good. Some of the songs feel like they were ripped from Ganbare Goemon game. It’s a nice mix of classic Japanese instrumentation and video game melodies.
Baker is a love letter to the country of Japan, that much is obvious. Traveling around the country, I have always been interested in how the prefectures I have visited are represented. I can only imagine how thrilling it is for the people who actually live there. One of the collectibles you collect on each level is a trivia, a mix of facts about the area as well as just plain weird and intriguing things. If there is one area that Baker is extremely effective, this is how he portrays Japan.
It’s less successful everywhere else. It’s not bad. I’d even say it’s very solid. It’s just a bit tedious. In its effort to provide a sleek surface, it’s sanded down a lot of personality. Despite having over 50 (quite long) levels, I probably won’t remember much of it in a few months Baker. It provides a loving representation of Japan, but it doesn’t let you live there. It lets you visit, but you’re not allowed to leave the compound. All I’m saying is: a fight between a robot kettle and a giant onigiri is much more effective if you know the people you’re stepping on.
