This collection and pair of remakes are now out, and since Bandai Namco aren't doing much marketing of their own it's up to the series's modest audience to try and put the word out themselves. Since I don't think Talking Time particularly needs to be introduced to Klonoa in any great capacity, here's a fun thing to mark the release of the collection: vtubers Fubuki and Korone duetting over a Klonoa 2 vocal track, in true Phantomilian lyrical fashion.
Klonoa wasn't a childhood or even adolescence game for me, but a belated adulthood acquiantance. A later introduction of course in no way reduced the game's effectiveness, firmly lodging itself in "best of system" estimation upon completing it. I don't think this version of it is meant to replicate affinity toward the original as is if that context is present, because so much of what made Door to Phantomile stand out was its existence as a PlayStation game, operating within those limitations and with that presentational fidelity; its ambition and successes are best understood through that lens that no revival can substitute for. The adaptation of the game here does not strike one as diluted, however, because what is lost in the exacting timeliness of the original is patched over by a glitzy newness that isn't so antiseptic as to render the work unrecognizable or inauthentic; it's beneficial to see the new exterior as a deliberate holism meant to unify the presentation of the two games now that they're no longer separated by console generations and hardware standards. If the sleeker fidelity puts one off, I found great aesthetic and atmospheric worth in the provided pixel filter, the implementation of which is evocative to such a degree that it breaks beyond momentary novelty. These games are scenic and painstakingly framed at a base level to begin with; abstracting their visuals through a low-resolution filter elicits a visual sleight of hand that has their graphical assets take on the illusionary appearance of pre-rendered assets that never existed in this form and still don't now, yet they captivate through that suggestion. Maybe the future of retro games isn't in upscaling low-res assets, but in downscaling high-res objects and worlds.
What of Klonoa 2, though? This was the first time I'd played it and I had no particular preconceived notions going into it, and it's a credit to this series gone too soon that its two primary works are about as evenly matched counterparts as one can imagine. Individual distinctions will arise--snowboarding autoscroller stages exist in this post-Sonic Adventure world; the game makes more than occasional use of (smartly and interestingly) reused level layouts with heavy remixing to make for a longer game; it's likely a stricter game in its platforming mechanics and challenges--but none of the gestured-toward "heart" in making the experience feel like it matters has gone anywhere between the two, with the series still balancing its almost comically intense tragedies and heartbreaks with wistful reassurances along the way no matter how grave the situation. There's an increased dramatism to the level design too that seems a product of the developer's jump to new and powerful hardware, allowing for wild transitional sequences through the multilayered level design geometry and a dizzying vertical emphasis to showcase the expanded landscapes. And yet even through the expanded scope, it is still exceptionally Klonoa, the two-button precision platformer where the limited verbs and carefully calculated and restricted protagonist mobility don't lend themselves to freeform improvisation but a compact number of possibilities at any given juncture, in turn granting the jumping a pleasingly digitally binary nature that lacks the vagueries of more diversely mobile peers. It's one thing to reach this balance once, and quite another to successfully retain it the second time around while convincingly elaborating on the fundamentals in a style of game that mechanically consists of nothing but.
I don't especially need or want for more Klonoa, as it's difficult to consider the series as anything more than a brief lightning in a bottle of a handful of years, but it was always a critically beloved creation that went underplayed by most. If this collection reaches people to whom either or both games are new, all the better.
What of Klonoa 2, though? This was the first time I'd played it and I had no particular preconceived notions going into it, and it's a credit to this series gone too soon that its two primary works are about as evenly matched counterparts as one can imagine. Individual distinctions will arise--snowboarding autoscroller stages exist in this post-Sonic Adventure world; the game makes more than occasional use of (smartly and interestingly) reused level layouts with heavy remixing to make for a longer game; it's likely a stricter game in its platforming mechanics and challenges--but none of the gestured-toward "heart" in making the experience feel like it matters has gone anywhere between the two, with the series still balancing its almost comically intense tragedies and heartbreaks with wistful reassurances along the way no matter how grave the situation. There's an increased dramatism to the level design too that seems a product of the developer's jump to new and powerful hardware, allowing for wild transitional sequences through the multilayered level design geometry and a dizzying vertical emphasis to showcase the expanded landscapes. And yet even through the expanded scope, it is still exceptionally Klonoa, the two-button precision platformer where the limited verbs and carefully calculated and restricted protagonist mobility don't lend themselves to freeform improvisation but a compact number of possibilities at any given juncture, in turn granting the jumping a pleasingly digitally binary nature that lacks the vagueries of more diversely mobile peers. It's one thing to reach this balance once, and quite another to successfully retain it the second time around while convincingly elaborating on the fundamentals in a style of game that mechanically consists of nothing but.
I don't especially need or want for more Klonoa, as it's difficult to consider the series as anything more than a brief lightning in a bottle of a handful of years, but it was always a critically beloved creation that went underplayed by most. If this collection reaches people to whom either or both games are new, all the better.
