I Dream of Rolling
I've been having this dream lately. Sometimes it comes to me when I'm only half asleep, lying in bed unable to focus my thoughts, and sometimes it comes to me while I'm in a deep trance, memories swirling around my mind in a disorganized manner. But yet this dream is always the same. In the dream I'm rolling a large ball around, picking up the various objects cluttered around my room. A pile of dirty socks latches onto the ball, each one accompanied by a pleasant “bloop” noise. Next I roll over my computer, and it latches on awkwardly, causing my ball to roll a bit differently, in a more awkward manner than before. I bump into a stool, and realize I'm not yet large enough to pick it up. I continue onwards, rolling and rolling this ball, letting it grow larger and larger, picking up more and more items, until it eventually grows so large I can't fit it through the doorway. At this point a floating head shows up and lets me know the time limit is up. I watch in fascination as he sucks me and my ball up into a bright spectrum of color.
Then I wake up.
Katamari Damacy has taken root somewhere deep in my brain, and it isn't letting go anytime soon.
For the uninitiated, Katamari Damacy (which translates to “Clump Soul”) is a bizarre budget title from Namco that has been garnering more and more interest ever since it originally came out in Japan. It's one of those truly odd games that makes you wonder how it ever made it out of its home country. Thankfully, Namco realized that this game's brilliance should be experienced by all, and they've released it in North America for a paltry $20. My own quest for this game was an arduous one, finding little more than strange glances at the first few retail outlets I checked. My quest finally came to an end at a Gamestop many miles from my home, where the manager responded to my inquiry with “Oh, you mean that rolly-ball game? Yeah, I saw that on G4.” I chose not to comment on this man's choice in cable networks and instead returned home triumphant with my prize.
Oh yeah, I guess I bought Gradius V that day too. That game is sweet.
When I first booted the game up I wasn't really sure what to expect. Aside from a few screenshots and online associates swearing up and down about how addictive the game was, I was still in the dark about exactly what I was in for. I booted the game up, and listened as the game's trademark “na na na na” theme started to play.
These days I've begun to hum that song in my sleep.
Right from the get-go I knew this game wasn't going to be like anything I had ever experienced. The opening bombards you with so many colors and images your brain starts to spin. Cows, rainbows, mushrooms, giraffes, balloons, ducks, pandas — all combining to form a truly bizarre visual cornucopia. Every time I boot up the game I am unable to resist watching the opening. It's just beautiful in its randomness; brilliant in its simplicity. These characteristics hold true for the rest of the game as well. Katamari Damacy is something so bizarre that you can't help but watch, and be pulled deeper and deeper into it. Whenever I show somebody the game, I force them to watch the opening, so they can feel the same sense of wonder I got when I first watched; so I can see the strange sense of confused awe that overcomes them.
Trying to explain Katamari Damacy to someone is somewhat of an impossible task. Believe me, I've tried several times to tell my friends that “they have to try this crazy ball rolling game,” only to be rewarded with confused looks and comments like “Chris, why do you only buy crazy Japanese games? Why can't you just play Halo like everyone else?” I just wanted to find somebody who would listen to me about how great it was, about how brilliant and original it was, about how nothing compared to the pure unbridled joy that came from bowling through a crowd of screaming Japanese schoolchildren. But no one seemed to care. You can't explain Katamari Damacy the way you explain other games. You can't tell people about how you can have sex with a hooker and then beat her to death with a baseball bat and get your money back, or how totally awesome the bump-mapping is. Because Katamari Damacy doesn't have those things. All Katamari Damacy has is a ball that you roll around and attach stuff to. I mean, there’s no way to tell people how exciting that really is. I soon realized that there was no way to express... no words to describe the complete elation I got from playing this game. And it tore me up inside, because I wanted to somehow share this game with the world.
But for a little while I was alone, rolling katamari in my head as I slept.
A few days after I had given up on trying to tell people about the game, two of my friends came over as I was playing. I welcomed them in and we shuffled into the den where I had been playing the game. Then they asked me what I had been playing. At first I thought of explaining the game to them, but instead I just thrust the controller into their hands, telling them little other than “Use the analog sticks.” Two hours later I was begging them to leave my house. They were addicted, the same as I was. And I soon learned the only way to truly understand the game's brilliance is to play it, the only way to know the joy it brings is to feel it.
Katamari Damacy isn't a game you play, it's a game you feel. And oh what a beautiful feeling it is.
