If you asked 100 people what they loved most about Lollipop Chainsaw,
you’d get 100 different answers -- and exactly zero of them would have
anything to do with the part where you play it. You’d hear about the
grindhouse style, brilliant comedy, shocking vulgarity, totally
rock-’n-roll soundtrack, or clashing themes. Nobody’s instinctive answer
would be, “Oh, yeah, the combat was a lot of fun.”
This is the struggle of Lollipop Chainsaw: It’s a one-of-a-kind experience, a game as fearless as it is unforgettable, and it’s as sterile as action games come.
Few games establish a tone as firmly and quickly as this one. Even
fewer are willing to leave you behind if you aren’t into it. In the
first five minutes, a voluptuous blonde goes from welcoming you to her
bedroom to having a steamy shower scene to slaughtering zombies in her
high school. If you can’t hang with the nonsense from the start, you
won’t keep up as the obscene insanity spirals further out of control.
From top to bottom, Lollipop Chainsaw is self-aware and utterly silly. It has fun with itself and is proud to be what it is. Profanity is as prevalent as innuendo, and the open-faced absurdity is endearing.
Until it isn’t.
Lollipop embraces exploitation to poke fun at itself -- everything is excessively violent, excessively sexual, and mashed together with glitter, sparkles, and rainbows. Thematically, it's a weird, funny mix. At some point, however, the over-the-top exploitation of a hyper-sexualized high school student isn’t the parody it started as anymore.
For every zombie Juliet Starling decapitates with her chainsaw,
someone calls her a whore, talks about masturbating to her, or comments
on her gigantic breasts. In and out of combat, the primary goal of
Lollipop Chainsaw is the money shot, whether it’s up Starling’s skirt or
down her shirt.
Obscenity eventually hits a point where it’s no longer contributing to anything. When shocking and titillating the player take precedent over the core gameplay loop, we have problems.
The exhausting vulgarity is amusing early on but grows annoying shortly afterward. A few hours into the five-hour story I was sick of hearing anyone say anything -- except for Nick, Juliet’s boyfriend. Of course, the guy can’t do much more than color commentary since he’s nothing more than a disembodied head strapped to Juliet’s waist. He’s confused, incapable of contributing much, and quick with a witty joke. His banter is one of the only constants in Lollipop Chainsaw.
Almost every word out of Nick’s mouth made me laugh out loud because he’s written well. Juliet is an idiotic, unaware bimbo, and Nick is a frustrated, frightened, impatient high schooler who just has to deal with her. His sarcastic demeanor makes playing as Juliet tolerable -- something that can’t really be said about the combat or enemy encounters.
Juliet uses pom-poms, a chainsaw, a gigantic gun, and sometimes the
head of her boyfriend on the end of a leash to kill zombies. It sounds
like an arsenal ripe for endless amusement, but the sad reality is that
it’s a slow grind. Juliet’s basic moves -- tied to a couple attacks and a
dodge function -- don’t flow together until late in the game when she’s
unlocked basic combos we’d expect to have from the start. As a result,
she moves awkwardly, has to finish an animation before attacking again,
and isn’t terribly effective for a large chunk of the campaign. Somehow,
against all odds, Lollipop Chainsaw made it utterly unfun to swing a
chainsaw at undead masses.
The greater problem is that none of the enemies are particularly dangerous or different. Some have more health. Others explode if you don’t kill them fast enough. For the most part, they’re just fodder for you to fill the requisite kill counter before moving onto the next uninspired arena battle. Lollipop Chainsaw is barren, devoid of substance. Wasteful mini-games, like shooting zombies as Nick rounds the bases at a ball diamond, or making your way through Pac-Man mazes in a faux video game, are empty forms of variety. The bosses are another standout low point: They're traditional, predictable time-sinks, complete with different phases, forms, and irritating one-hit kills.
The grindhouse film themes and vibrant, girly aesthetic exist on such opposite ends of the style spectrum that the game's violence always looks cool, especially against the backdrop of the fantastic, memorable, and totally rock-’n-roll soundtrack. The tedium of using many of the same moves and the repetition of encounter types (shoot this, swing on that, jump on them), however, means it’s just not very entertaining to play.
This is the struggle of Lollipop Chainsaw: It’s a one-of-a-kind experience, a game as fearless as it is unforgettable, and it’s as sterile as action games come.
From top to bottom, Lollipop Chainsaw is self-aware and utterly silly. It has fun with itself and is proud to be what it is. Profanity is as prevalent as innuendo, and the open-faced absurdity is endearing.
Until it isn’t.
Lollipop embraces exploitation to poke fun at itself -- everything is excessively violent, excessively sexual, and mashed together with glitter, sparkles, and rainbows. Thematically, it's a weird, funny mix. At some point, however, the over-the-top exploitation of a hyper-sexualized high school student isn’t the parody it started as anymore.
Just...shut up. Don't talk.
Obscenity eventually hits a point where it’s no longer contributing to anything. When shocking and titillating the player take precedent over the core gameplay loop, we have problems.
The exhausting vulgarity is amusing early on but grows annoying shortly afterward. A few hours into the five-hour story I was sick of hearing anyone say anything -- except for Nick, Juliet’s boyfriend. Of course, the guy can’t do much more than color commentary since he’s nothing more than a disembodied head strapped to Juliet’s waist. He’s confused, incapable of contributing much, and quick with a witty joke. His banter is one of the only constants in Lollipop Chainsaw.
Almost every word out of Nick’s mouth made me laugh out loud because he’s written well. Juliet is an idiotic, unaware bimbo, and Nick is a frustrated, frightened, impatient high schooler who just has to deal with her. His sarcastic demeanor makes playing as Juliet tolerable -- something that can’t really be said about the combat or enemy encounters.
Aerial attacks are where it's at, but they still don't mix it up enough.
The greater problem is that none of the enemies are particularly dangerous or different. Some have more health. Others explode if you don’t kill them fast enough. For the most part, they’re just fodder for you to fill the requisite kill counter before moving onto the next uninspired arena battle. Lollipop Chainsaw is barren, devoid of substance. Wasteful mini-games, like shooting zombies as Nick rounds the bases at a ball diamond, or making your way through Pac-Man mazes in a faux video game, are empty forms of variety. The bosses are another standout low point: They're traditional, predictable time-sinks, complete with different phases, forms, and irritating one-hit kills.
The grindhouse film themes and vibrant, girly aesthetic exist on such opposite ends of the style spectrum that the game's violence always looks cool, especially against the backdrop of the fantastic, memorable, and totally rock-’n-roll soundtrack. The tedium of using many of the same moves and the repetition of encounter types (shoot this, swing on that, jump on them), however, means it’s just not very entertaining to play.
Athens Time
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