Eiyuden Chronicle makes an exceptionally poor first impression. Characters roll through their introductions communicating primarily echoes of past Suikoden staples, continuously interrupting and dictating play in a piecemeal manner every few steps, within dungeon environments that track as monotonous and lacking even in context of the former series's low bar and disinterest in the form. There is a hard mode, but playing with it hardly changes how you interact with the game--only the numbers seem to bloat, making a battle system whose lineage was always built on expediency and hands-off interactions highlight its very weaknesses in stretching encounters past what they're equipped to support.
There is no dramatic turn in the rest of the game's character, but there is drastic improvement found in the strengths that have always buoyed the series, in the range of personalities and contexts that flavour the narrative, who are the real stars of the show. I don't find Nowa an enjoyable protagonist as an independent personality, and Seign and Marisa as deuteragonists are honestly not much more intriguing, but then: I'm largely not forced to place them in the starring role in mechanical terms, even if the storytelling would prefer it. Arrival and establishment of a headquarters in any Suiko-like is always tinged with excitement because it prefaces all the best aspects of the games, of exploring the world for new allies, seeing how they fit into the lineup, and witnessing their small stories and bits of characterization that often track as more interesting than whatever transpires in the main narrative. That's the point where Eiyuden, predictably but relievingly also springs to life as the experience it wants to be.
Familiarity can work in favour or against a work's merits, but that's what the game seeks to invoke from beginning to end. The major creatives returning to the concept dropped the mic twenty-something years ago and in picking it back up showcase that the songs and setlist they're interested in are largely only their own; you'd be hard-pressed to find much outside influences or signifiers of modern trends in the game's sensibilities. That's an unique dynamic even compared to throwback projects that pursue similar, because so much of Suikoden already embodied an uncommonly streamlined and uncharacteristic take on the genre, so maintaining those baselines doesn't actually do much in having the game appear as a willing antique. It may even stand out more now, since not too much actually followed in its footsteps in the series's absence.
Murayama, Kawano and their team don't seek to reinvent the genre with Eiyuden, nor do they place their own priors works under any kind of recontextualized, scrutinizing lens; no, this is Suikoden played to type, embracing everything it was and running through the script in a greatest hits sort of pace to the beats. That's probably where the material falters for many, since decades of affection colour earlier works and being reminded of them in a comparable but dissimilar manner likely can't patch over that emotional discrepancy in estimation. If a narrative's merit is measured by the ability to see how it will play out in advance, then Eiyuden will ring very hollow for all that it presents according to convention, along well-trodden paths.
At the same time, there's a conscious affect to veer comparisons from imitation and self-tribute just astray enough that a distinct identity forms around the margins. Nowa and Seign are positioned so literally in the Riou and Jowy roles that it's actually surprising when the game doesn't go for that; in effect the absence of that tragic adversary arc for more conventional camaraderie itself becomes remarkable. Aldric postures as a visual amalgam of Barbarossa and Luca Blight, but lacks the former's detachment and disillusionment and the latter's vengeful brutality in favour of a smug certitude and an endless host of rationalizations to justify himself with, which makes him both straightforward in the moment and exceptionally satisfying to finally overcome. Lian's Nanami-esque shtick becomes distinct in context of Nowa's verbal presence in their interactions, allowing her to be comically self-assured and goofy and him to play the straight man through means not limited to pantomime. The "adorable sibling" role is similarly played by Nowa's little sister Leene, who is not relegated to a sidekick and extension of him but for almost all of the game is an offscreen entity caught up in her own adventures, only periodically and optionally crossing over with her brother's circumstances from time to time, lending her significance through those absences. Nowa, as plain as I find him, is also contextualized in his role differently from series standard: he is not a chosen one because of a magical destiny inextricable to him, but is assigned his role partially because his status as no one in particular is beneficial to the public narrative of an anonymous underdog rising up against a despotic empire.
By far the strongest aspect of the game's writing is embodied in one Perrielle Grum, whom Murayama before his passing reportedly named as his favourite character in the game's cast. It's not difficult to conjecture the reasons why: it's really her to whom the story, if defined through national conflict and warfare, happens to with the most personal consequences and the most proactive participation in shaping its course. She's a politician and diplomat in a setting that undervalues and underestimates her on those terms, in ways that are not preached about but still very clearly delineated as being gendered in rationale and motive. There's a lot of heroic restraint and decorum adopted by the rest of the cast and in the platitudes they depend on, but with Perrielle those frustrations and outbursts of the facade of civility cracking are characterized by verisimilitude that dependence on archetype among the rest of the cast doesn't really explore, and her centrality to the narrative is to its benefit in all aspects of who she is. Personally I consider her an apology for the string of women in leadership positions that Suikoden of old exploited to set up conflicts, in purchasing "stakes" at the cost of those women's lives--the Odessas and Anabelles of the world. Perrielle can die, as the customary "did you recruit everyone" check at the end of the game, but I prefer that she doesn't, both for staying true to character that I read her as and the prior narrative convention that I see her as rejecting.
The individually strong qualities carry Eiyuden as much as any wider ethos, and maybe more so. The spritework is a treasure trove of colourful characters in quantities only its erstwhile predecessor delivered, and especially in this era of "HD-2D" art style homogenization provide a very different mode of presentation compared to where most other projects with a lineage go to. The dungeons may not dazzle in how they're laid out, but they too are capable of evocative framing of the scenery, and battle scenes in particular are numerous and possessing of a tremendous depth and physicality to frame the action with. The mini-games and the quests associated with them are dull, monotonous and very unentertaining, but then the game throws something like the theater at you, which on its own is one of the most absurd features any RPG has ever had. Five scripts in which the entirety of the 120-person cast can play out any role comes out to several thousand voice acted lines, and the commitment to a bit in them is beyond stellar: people will stumble over dialogue, ad-lib others, struggle with pronunciation of some terms, get deep into character and ham it up, audibly roll their eyes at the lines they're asked to deliver, woodenly act their best, and anything else that's possible to occur on the stage. The permutations that are able to happen here are almost a microcosm of everything good about the game, highlighting its cast of weirdos who are conveyed in an excellent localized script and voice acting that's likewise a tremendous feat of production, in contrast to previous Suikoden entries which survived the translation process instead of being elevated by it. The prominent voice acting's presence amplifies what Suikoden has traditionally been good at, in highlighting the collective differences of their ensembles, this time able to reach deeper into that multicultural concept through vocal affect, diction and accent.
I was so afraid that Eiyuden would be a Suikoden II. I don't generally chase imitation even with works that I favour, and in that case there's enough antipathy present that I desire it even less. Fortunately, the game pivots away from that, and doesn't attempt the same kind of high melodrama built on exploitation, shock and trauma. It doesn't strike me as directly comparable to parts one or three either--the ones I really like--and that's no loss on its part. There's a balancing act in play where it's very evocative of a Suikoden that doesn't actually exist, because it's drawing from so many of them at once and manages to avoid the deepest pitfalls of hollow tribute through that holistic touch. Whether a one-off or the start of something more, I got both exactly what I expected, and what is rarely seen anymore: an earnestly uncomplicated work at ease with its past and what future it may yet bring.