DmC: Devil May Cry is a tough one to call. Through reimagining a beloved franchise, Ninja Theory – exuberantly embodied by Tameem Antionades – aimed to achieve two things: first, provide fans with a capable follow-up, worthy of the games prior, and second, re-establish the IP as a more accessible, artistically-extravagant affair. As with any such dichotomy, compromise is needed, and whilst it is unfortunate that much of what made Devil May Cry 3 great is gone or lacking, Ninja Theory’s commitment to its crazy vision was certainly a risk worth taking.
Given Ninja Theory’s pedigree, an earnest and well-drawn story was expected – something that, to some, seemed conceptually incompatible with Devil May Cry. Well, never fear, proper homage has been paid to games of yore; this is almost as hackneyed as it has ever been, simply with the tongue firmly removed from its cheek. Themes of family and love underpin the personal narrative somewhat effectively, but never really break free from generics. The context more broadly tries to satirise modern systems of control and surveillance by underlying the human world with its demon realm, Limbo. Through this, financial departments are nests of hell-beasts, soft-drinks poison the populous and the demon-led media examines and indoctrinates them. It’s much less clever than it thinks it is, with the conceit only initially intriguing before growing old, tired and aggravatingly transparent. Nuanced, this aint. But functional? It kind of is.
Kat: storytelling at its worst.
At the epicentre of all of this lies the reluctant delinquent, Dante, ready to stick it to the man. He’s a polarising guy, but does have the ability to endear over time. He’s much more serious and angry than his floppy-haired counterpart but it’s oddly refreshing to see a franchise-lead swear his way through situations like a stroppy teenager. His inevitable, and somewhat trying, arc is an unnecessary addition, but Ninja Theory do largely succeed in grounding both Dante and his brother Vergil with a modicum of realism and likability – their understated dialogue being mostly responsible. Fairing less well is the female love-interest, Kat. Operating only as a basic damsel in distress, she pales in comparison to the likes of Trip of even Nariko. The whole thing is oddly paced and incredibly predictable. Fortunately, though, in spite of its considerable faults, actually investing in Dante’s plight is relatively easy, if only to see the direction the character is taken in.
It provides just about all we need – ample reason to start the party.
DmC was always going to live or die on its combat. Thankfully, for the most part, Ninja Theory has done a bang-up job. Despite a slight increase in speed, Dante’s key skill-set remains, with sword and gun combos working how they did before. Not long out of the gate, Dante will begin to accumulate various ‘Angel’ and ‘Demon’ armaments. Broadly, the angelic stuff is sprightlier and combo-aiding, whilst the demonic are plodding but deliver massive damage. Instead of swapping out weapons, the two categories are mapped to the triggers, acting like modifiers – meaning that long and varied combos are generally easier to execute. It’s a nice evolution of the original tenants that satisfies and delivers. Dante eventually gains whip abilities that can haul enemies towards him in a fashion not dissimilar to Nero from Devil May Cry 4, and, at its best, the combat manages to find a comfortable balance of all past gameplay styles. It definitely is lacking in depth and expanse, even when you’ve bought the many available upgrades, but, against the odds, DmC more than makes up for it with its shear viscera and feedback.
Rebellion is, pretty much, always the best option.
A bewildering problem, that comes to close to tainting the entire experience, is the lack of direct lock-on. It seems like a small omission, but it undermines much of the precision allotted to players previously. It becomes noticeable as soon as you gain access to the, ostensibly useless, pair of pistols, Ebony and Ivory. Aiming at the bomb-dropping, flying babies (yeah) is immediately problematic when ground enemies are also about. As a result, you’re asked to deal with enemies on an almost arbitrary basis. Selecting a foe and going for it just isn’t viable. This also means that the camera is flying around all over the place, out of your control. In fairness to it, it’s proficient, but keeping an eye on enemies off screen is an impossibility. On top of this, moves that once relied on the lock-on, like ‘stinger’, now have to be awkwardly executed by pressing (the likes of) ‘up’ twice on the analogue stick and attacking. Other combat problems include enemies that can only be attacked with certain weapons – a consistently flow-breaking feature that is only accentuated as you up the difficulty. That being said, once you get the hang of things, the failings meld into a less-defined, but profoundly fun, mash of violence.
Lock-on issues aside, DmC provides an undeniably satisfying set of mechanics, but on normal (devil hunter) it’s stupidly easy. Not only will you rarely face the reaper, racking up the returning style meter is a breeze. Whereas before, an SSS rank was an accolade worthy of a place astride the top of your CV, it’s almost an embarrassment to leave skirmishes without one here. Damage dealt is the primary meter-booster, with variety of destruction only helping the cause. In the interest of science, I got somebody, who had never played a hack ‘n’ slash before, to give the game a shot. Not only did he rarely die, he even remarked on how easy it was without being prompted. DmC is transformed when you start upping the difficulty settings. True, many of the control issues become more noticeable, but the combat generally is given room to breathe as enemies don’t die when Dante glares at them.
The scythe is best at juggling and dealing with groups of enemies.
Boss fights provide another point of contention. Their actual designs are some of the most inspired creature creations I’ve seen in recent times. The problem is their mechanical predictability and lack of challenge. The Bob Barbas fight, for example, is one of the most ingeniously crafted and entertaining parts of the game, but, without giving too much away, this has nothing to do with actually fighting the guy. Whittling his health bar away amounts to little more than run-of-the-mill evasion and spotting your opening. This is the case for pretty much every single fight, bar, perhaps, the final one,which depressingly showcases what could have been.
Replacing the under-developed puzzles of Capcom’s earlier attempts are various platforming set-pieces. Dante’s whips play a key role, allowing him to Spiderman his way through the segmented environments. It starts off as exhilarating but before long resembles a slightly more interactive quick-time events. It boils down to modifying the whip when a colour appears and watching Dante do his thing. They’re a spectacle, sure, but basically nothing more. There is nowhere near enough control fidelity to justify the numerous platforming secret missions, either.
Perhaps the most inspired section of the game.
Aesthetically, Ninja Theory have out-done themselves here. Whilst DmC is not the most technically impressive title to come out this generation, it’s the relentless audio / visual assault that manages to drag all of its component parts together. Whether it’s the dark, restless soundtrack; the twisted and broken nature of Limbo (and, indeed, the real world) or the gritty bleakness found in the characters that populate it, the vision is a comprehensively realised one, and by distance the most impressive thing about DmC. Almost every facet of the design seems like an extrapolation of the modern teenager’s mind; questioning, hating and destroying. Even speaking as a twenty-something, it’s hard not to get wrapped up in the aggression of it all – something that seems to fit the mechanics just as well, if not better, than the hitherto Gothic backdrop. The animation provides Dante with a more realistic weight, adding momentum to his sword swings. The level design is generally great, but at points vastly abstracted from its original source, providing all-too convenient geometry for Dante to swing about in. The voice acting is hit and miss, and the energy peters out towards the end, but by then you’re hooked, and there’s no going back.
In reviewing DmC it’s worth acknowledging the various lenses a franchise-fan can view it through. Devil May Cry 5, this isn’t. In fact, the combat is shallow, the platforming is pointless and the story takes itself far too seriously. But, examined as something new, it’s genuinely exciting. It’s a far-from-perfect, angst-ridden explosion that, in the end, breathes life into a stale franchise. Hardcore fans of old Dante would be doing themselves a favour by approaching this with an open-mind . One thing that Dmc: Devil May Cry patently doesn’t shy away from is putting a middle finger up at its older brother.