A Suprisingly Fun Smash Bros. Inspired Brawler

User Rating: 7 | Digimon Rumble Arena 2 GC

Licensed games are, all too often, enormous disappointments. Developers seem to think that because there's a name players recognize slapped onto the cover, the game itself doesn't have to be any good. We've seen it countless times before: SpongeBob games, superhero games, Disney games. It seems like a license can actually suck all the quality right out a game. Don't worry, I have an investigation in progress on the matter. Given what I've just said, color me surprised when Digimon Rumble Arena turned out to be a wholly capable fighter that even occasionally has moments of greatness.

Digimon Rumble Arena 2 is a fighting game, pure and simple. But you won't be memorizing combos and ultra moves in this baby; no, it's much more along the lines of Nintendo's hugely famous mascot mix-up fighter, Super Smash Bros. In fact, it would be easy to call Digimon derivative or unoriginal based on the amount of ideas it borrows from the series, because it borrows A LOT. Tell me if any of this sounds familiar: four players on one 2-D stage battle each other using special attacks (triggered by the B button), regular attacks (used with the A button), and items scattered around the stage. The match can be governed by a time limit, or players can be assigned a certain number of lives. You can play on the couch with up to three of your friends to ensure maximum mayhem. That could be Smash Bros. game, right? Right. And while some might sneer at this game as a cheap knock-off and move on, they'd be missing out on the important ways Rumble Arena is different from Smash Bros.

First of all, gone are SSB's damage percentage counters. They're simply not necessary because most KO's in Digimon don't come from knocking the other players off the stage; in fact, most stages don't even let you die from a fall. Instead, each player has a health bar, and once that health bar is depleted, the player is KO'd. That's pretty standard for a fighter, but this next part isn't: Digivolution. As anyone who's watched Digimon knows (I know because they're constantly talking about it, and I've only seen a few episodes at most), each Digimon can change form into something bigger and badder, not unlike with Pokémon. During battle, this involves filling a light blue bar underneath your health bar by picking up the orbs your opponent drops when you hit them. Once the bar is full, you're free to upgrade your Digimon to their next form, giving them a new set of moves and a sizable power increase in the process.

Digivolution is both Rumble Arena's biggest draw and one of its biggest detractors. It undoubtedly adds a totally unique feel to the game's combat, since not only are you trying to stay alive, but you're also trying to collect as many energy orbs as possible to give your character a boost. When you snag that final orb you need first, and you're changing, and suddenly you're the most powerful player onscreen, the game feels immediately satisfying. It's empowering knowing that you have a major advantage over the other players because you earned it, because you transformed first. But it's that power boost that can also make a lot of fights seem unfair. Each Digmon has three forms: basic, intermediate, and ultimate. When you're still in your basic form trying to take down a Digmon in its ultimate form, the game can feel unbalanced. You'll be hammering on your opponent with attack after attack, barely scratching them. Then they'll send one attack your way and you'll go flying across the stage. It also doesn't help that after a while you just get into the rhythm of hitting your opponent a few times, collecting orbs, digivolving, then repeating until you're at your final form. Then the fight really gets going. What starts off as the game's most intriguing mechanic can sometimes be its most tiresome.

Apart from the Digivolving, this game really isn't anything very special. The graphics are definitely passable, at times looking very good when the screen is full of varied and colorful special attacks. The sound, however, is incredibly grating. It seems that characters in this game have one of two voices: an incredibly squeaky, high-pitched voice or an incredibly gravely bass voice. Both voices are equally annoying, and since they scream their attacks every time they use them ("Boom Bubble!" "Marching Fishes!" "Rosetta Stone") and announce what they're doing every time they digivolve, you'll be hearing a LOT from them. Find your remote and mute the darn thing after your first couple matches. You'll thank me later.

The game has a couple of modes. You have your requisite training mode, your half-baked adventure mode (where you move through a set of stages you pick from a little hexagonal map), and your versus mode. Versus is where the real fun lies, since its here that you can take on your friends. Frankly, the battles against the AI in the adventure mode do nothing but make you realize that this game just isn't as good as the series it tries to emulate. And it's that simple fact that keeps the game from being great. The combat can feel floaty, and it too often feels like its relying on luck instead of skill. The stages, while inventive and quirky, can occasionally be simply annoying. Take one stage called "The Cannery", where you'll turn into a can for a little while after you're thrown/fall into a pipe on the side of the stage. What would be a cute and clever little moment of fear, since you're helpless as a can, is instead taken too far and becomes a twenty to thirty-second period of tedious frustration.

But when you're playing a versus match with a few friends, all that goes out the window. Here, everything that's a little unbalanced about his game becomes a blessing, as you and your friends curse and laugh in equal measure as you struggle to outlast the onslaught against your newly-canned character, or you manage to take down your friend's Digimon in its final form while you're still in your basic one. This is a game that comes to life when you play it with friends. I only wish it came to life a little more often without them.