Disgaea 1
There are essentially three main issues with “grinding” in a video game: Making the repetition interesting, providing meaningful goals and successfully connecting the act to the narrative. These all culminate in one fundamental struggle: It is one of the most artificial player activities in a video game. It resembles learning and building experience only in the most abstract way. What it actually is closer to a job of collecting goods. You sell the goods and then invest the money so that you can collect more valuable goods, invest larger amounts of money, rinse and repeat. Of course here, everything here is governed by an absolute mathematical certainty. There are no risks, no competition, there is always abundant supply and demand. Everything is predictable and the gains only go upwards. As such, by itself, grinding simulates nothing tangible. This is both a strength and a weakness: The feeling it creates is entirely unique but video games often fail to channel this feeling in a truly elevating way. In many games, grinding can be addictive or relaxing, but that’s only because player just happens to find meaning in a low-stress repetitive action and games often fail to make proper use of this kind of engagement, thus grinding mostly exist as a crutch for more immersive or immediately captivating features.
But Disgaea [*] is different. Really different.
It’s so different in fact I have failed to truly understand it for a while. Before going in, I knew it was a “grindy” game. And I began the game like I was preparing for a long trip. I grinded enough to comfortably finish the story levels but did not put much thought or research. I did not even figure out that I could turn off the battle animations. While I enjoyed the game, I made myself a disservice and rendered the game much more intimidating than it had to be. I learned about the ridiculously tough extra bosses, and something in my brain rang like an alarm clock, there was no way I would ever spent any time on that.
After I have reached the credits for the second time, a light bulb appeared on my head. I finally got Disgaea.
I became aware of how cozy it really feels.
The game looks beautiful. Not sublime like Ori and the Blind Forest(2015), nor magnificent like Hades(2020). It is humbly vibrant, but not explosive, expressive and chaotic, but never overwhelming. Takehito Harada’s characters are all part silly and part dashing, ranging from miserable prinnies to handsome samurai ladies, with edgelord majins, maid mages and haughty angels in between. The story cast is equally delightful too: Laharl the shounen-protagonist-looking demon prince, Etna the average demon girl whom you can never be entirely sure how serious she is about her sadism, Flonne the 200% saccharine angel who enjoys violence more than she would admit; both cutscene artwork and battle map sprites are amazing at capturing emotions. Everything has the exact kind of simple but striking adorableness I love. A kind of simplicity that lets the colors shine with attitude. Even small embellishments like palette-swapped characters, the way maps are decorated or the team attack cut-in pictures give me a smile every time. Whether I am the hub in the king’s castle, or at a randomly generated map in the Item World, the game always looks warm and cute, like a comfort cartoon from the dreamy haze of the childhood.
As fine as static visuals are, the game no doubt owes its warmth to animations and the sound design. It is so lacking in visual noise that even smallest things like idle bobbling, walking animations or the little reaction poses when a character is picked up is charming, and remains so after seeing them for dozens of hours. The battle animations are all appropriately glorious for a turn based game but also still feel like a natural part of the world, just ridiculous enough but never too long or dazzling to overstay their welcome. Even when the animations are turned off, the basic moves are still punchy and full of character. The magic knight yells a no-nonsense ”YAH” when she swings her weapon, mages put out a chuckle before casing spells, a galactic demon growls and violently swings its large blade. Setting off a big geo-panel chain and winning stuff at the end of the levels achieves a casino-like, demonic satisfaction, even the simple menu selection sounds make the otherwise static screens quite lively. Some pieces of from Tenpei Sato’s soundtrack particularly embody this cute spirit: such as Running Fire, Akuma Drops, or Fancy Balls; energetic, playful and easy-to-ears music, and don’t wear out their welcome easily; which makes them perfect for grinding. Dark Assembly is nearly entirely menu-navigation, yet Lord Laharl’s Hymn is able to provide it a character entirely on its own. Even in serious moments the game never lets the wondrous fantasy world feeling disappear. Disgaea is perhaps the cutest game I have ever seen, in a way that’s beyond more conventionally adorable games don’t reach. This is especially remarkable when the foremost thing you see in the game is numbers.
Lots of numbers. And some progression bars. But often, a lot of numbers.
Every video game is ruled by numbers, but most of the time they will be partially or wholly buried to make the world seem more naturalistic and to please those who dislike numbers. And sure, there is clear merit in this. Games usually try to simulate, or at least broadly resemble things from the physical world; and while most anyone will tolerate deviations, it is still not pleasant to see the hand that moves the puppets. Some games will go a bit too far and fall into a trap which I will refer as unsimulation: When a game tries to be as life-like as possible only to expose their simplistic game loops in the most grotesque ways imaginable. Zeal to hide any “gameyness” at all costs is the very thing that exacerbates the contrast between the game’s mechanics and presentation.. An hyperrealistic looking game like Red Dead Redemption 2(2018) has exquisite detail on horse balls but it doesn’t have the balls not to have things like bullet time system or instantly consumed food. It has lavish animations for looting a corpse, but in certain cases, the player pick ups items automatically anyway, which makes the added detail feel more artificial than every other game with a looting mechanic. AAA games of this kind are hit by unsimulation the most because they cannot give up the typical game loops sought by the most players yet they are desperate for “the prestige” of not looking like a video game.
On the other end of the spectrum, there is Disgaea. I go to Item World to level up items, I slay demons, my squad levels up, my items get stronger, I obtain stronger items, so I go to their item world, slay stronger demons, the squad levels up more, the new items level up and I get even stronger items. Meanwhile, I level up specialists to make items even stronger, and among other things, I can get experience faster. So that way I can transmigrate(reincarnate) my squad to make them stronger, they can level up fast thanks to already strong equipment, so they can be transmigrated again and again. The numbers go high and high, the limit is the sky. Witnessing this snowball effect is the way the game defines fun. I hindered my enjoyment in the beginning because I grinded to progress the game, and only after the game was successful trained me to see grinding as it’s own progression I started to enjoy it to the fullest.
When I hover on a character, I am welcomed with a spreadsheet of stats, equipment and skills. Even friendly NPCs in outside of maps are still have their battle portraits, levels and health info displayed It doesn’t have a direct gameplay utility, it’s just another cute thing that helps to make gameplay tangentially live in the game world and I love when games put any effort towards that. When the presentation and play systems are in such unity, the game doesn’t need any further goals for grinding. Numbers are their own reward, the plot functions to prepare the player for grinding and tough challenge maps exist to commemorate player’s dedication. The game avoids unsimulation because it doesn’t try to conjure a consistent universe and then say “Welp, this is a video game after all?” whenever it is convenient, it builds up a universe whose story can be told through the kind of video game it wants to be.
The game’s openness about its systems is also what gives it a kind of fairness most games don’t have. It’s plainly clear that player characters and the enemies are governed by the same rules. The game never tries to pulls the rug over me. Sometimes I consult guides and charts, but I do so just for the sake of convenience and to squeeze that extra little bit of knowledge about the game; otherwise the game is utmost eager to explain itself. While randomness is a factor in the game, it is there to add some spice, not to “gotcha” the player. Most video game challenges are designed to be a beaten, but Disgaea revels in making me know that victory is always within my reach. The only question is “How can I crush the enemies in the most fun way possible”. I can play the game more tactically, approaching the enemies on a roughly equal power level. I can turn the weakest character into a god. I can devise a route to have a strong character to defeat the extra bosses as quickly as possible. (In fact, there is a glitchless speedrun clocking in 3 hours!) This is a brilliant part of the game; despite how much it is built on grinding, it doesn’t really demand that much of it. In both tactics and strategy, there is a real depth this game; and it can be played quite efficiently, which is particularly noteworthy for a game about seeing big numbers. The only true reason to grind is because battling demons and getting more powerful is a great activity for the entire family.
(Story spoilers start here)
It is very fitting, then,the plot is all about crushing any challengers and winning stronger vassals, rinse and repeat. Given that the story is very episodic, the sense of time is quite fuzzy, and there isn’t a lot of any actual danger for most of the plot, fighting extra bosses aren’t a diversion; from the dialogue we can be pretty sure that Laharl defeating Baal is a foregone conclusion. And herein lays the crux of the narrative: The game completely embraces the inevitability of player’s victory and thus, being stronger than any boss is ultimately trivial compared to the emotional growth in the story. Only someone who is mature enough to confront their own heart and stop hiding behind a mask of the “evil demon” stereotype is worthy to become a true overlord. The silliness of the game precisely comes from the contrast between the dialogue that stresses how terrible the demons are and the events that solidly progress to tear apart that. The game can fully bask in the fun of fighting because it never gets too serious or deadly (permanently at least). An armada of 1 BILLION SHIPS are attacking, but it’s okay, Laharl promptly eliminates them in a cutscene without anyone dying. The true serious threat to him is facing the loss of those whom he cared. There is no doubt that Archangel can be defeated, even he is resigned to his fate. In the bad endings, his body lies in the ground, covered in blood. The blood in the question is just a sprite of red puddle, yet it is among the most vivid depiction of blood among all fiction, in large part because there is no blood in anywhere else in the game. Even without the help of Sorrowful Angel, that image alone changes the game so drastically, the entire game turns somber. The failure isn’t so much about the morality of the killing, but rather the inability to conquer your’s deeper fears and becoming the monster you have been hiding behind all this time.
The physical power isn’t meaningless here, in one of the endings, it matures Laharl just enough that he admits he is unfit to rule and walk away to a lone journey hoping he might mature one day. Nevertheless, the true challenge of the game, the test deliberately set up by archangel himself, is to subdue Laharl’s wrath just enough to not kill him, and the means to do so is totally obscured from the player, seems unconnected on the surface and requires a new playtrough to correct it. The only path to salvation for me is kill exactly zero of my allies in a battle. An obscurity like this is something I would lambaste, but the bad ending is actually worth seeing here and, retroactively, it is genius for several reasons: For one, why would anyone inform me about this? Not abusing my characters isn’t really worth a mention, let alone a praise. Two, the game subtly tricks the player into ally-kills. It tells that depraved, meme-faced prinnies explode when they are thrown. Yes of course I would try that, the game even records it like an accomplishment. (There are even more surprises for reaching certain kills!). Three, when I learned about the endings, I became much more careful about the area attacks, but looking from Laharl’s perspective, he would do it only because he intuitively cares enough about his gang. It makes sense to me that only this version of him would have the necessary self-control. Four, there is something rather poetic about an gameplay element the game did not pay attention previously becoming so important in the narrative, yet another step towards gameplay-story integration.
The good ending is appropriately wholesome. Laharl wholly accepts his sensitive side, he proves himself as a worthy overlord to Etna; Flonne proves her own idealism right and, both literally and figuratively, accepts her own more mischievous, demon-like side, Gordon, Jennifer and Thursday returns the earth as movie stars. This is as happy as Netherworld can get. It is also best kind of validation if you reach here after beating the extra bosses. The game can deliver a humorous yet heartfelt story because it embraces the inherent artificiality of its gameplay. It doesn’t hide it’s theater props, it doesn’t attempt a self-aware meta commentary, it offers no extrinsic reward for grinding; and precisely in this way it creates a level of verisimilitude not many games can achieve. In an interview with the producer Souhei Niikawa, he mentions the game is “..the ratio was 10% on story (practically bonus content) and 90% on game play”, but this is only true in the most superficial way. In truth, Disgaea has a remarkable degree of ludo-narrative harmony and demonstrates a unity of vision across all of its parts normally seen in single-dev games.
(Story spoilers end here)
You might be surprised to read this; but I like Disgaea a lot. Some media become worse the more you think about it. This game is the opposite. From afar, it looks fine but unassuming, but the more I contemplate on it, the more I spend time playing it, it becomes better and better. It has dawned on me that the game was created for me, specifically. Yes, Yoshitsuna Kobayashi had a dream of revelation where he was instructed by the god to make a game which would target me with perfect precision 20 years later. In particular: this game is an excellent study case for how to make grinding compelling: An addictive gaming loop, activities that feels interconnected with the rest of the game and intrinsic satisfaction to spend your hours to make some numbers higher. Disgaea, turns the artificiality of its gameplay over its head to create something that feels tangible beyond just requiring players to spend some amount of time to finish the game’s contents. This strong foundation is then built upon with a very charming presentation and a lovely-crafted story. Compared to contemporary games, it resembles everything people seem to enjoy about gacha games, but it doesn’t prey on your money and time. It just wants you to have a good time on hell.
[*] Playstation 2 title Disgaea: The Hour of Darkness(2003) has a good number of remakes/ports/re-releases. I play the game on Disgaea PC(2015), which is an enhanced port of a remake of the original. Nothing in this in article is concerned with various differences between the versions, nor I will discuss the entire series as whole, so it is safe to refer to this family of games as Disgaea here
This article is written thanks to my dearest Patrons and special thanks to: Acelin, Laura Watson, MasterofCubes, Makkovar, Morgan, Otakundead , Sasha and Spencer Gill.
