Hades: An Exercise in Excellent Repetition
I spent the majority of my first year at university playing Mossmouth’s Spelunky — a cave-dwelling roguelite defined precisely by its punishing difficulty where one mistake can obliterate a seemingly perfect run in a single moment. Admittedly, I am frankly terrible at Spelunky, as after 50+ hours of playtime and over 1000 deaths (a feat I share with a mere 3.4% of Steam owners) I have still not finished the game, but in spite of my ever present failure, I could not have loved the game any more. The reason to which I am prefacing a discussion of Supergiant Games’ Hades with an adoration of Spelunky is that the former evokes the same feeling of adoration in the face of failure that very few games have managed to capture for me since. That feeling of progression, of overcoming the odds, of determination, of ‘just one more run’ are ever-present within Hades, and serve as the backbone and defining feature of not just an outstanding roguelike (or -lite) but an outstanding game in general.
One is born into Hades through the character of Zagreus, son of Hades, and thrown into the depths of Tartarus, where one must become familiar with what is essentially the rest of the game’s loop: enter a chamber, kill the enemies, collect your reward, move onto the next chamber. This ‘routine’ induced upon the player presents nothing exceptionally new to the genre, but it does not necessarily need to as it has been tried, tested, and frankly works so well. Unlike many other roguelikes, Hades does not feature procedurally generated ‘rooms’, instead opting for a select number of varied pre-generated rooms in a random order. Alongside the unpredictability of the chambers follows the rewards attached to the completion of each room. One can be met with certain ‘boons’ — gifts from various Greek Gods which enhance Zagreus’ skill set; keys, ‘darkness’, gemstones, and nectar which can be used to strengthen your character outside of the runs or interact with various point of the world; or even Charon the ferryman of the underworld, who offers you a chance to purchase some of these rewards — if you have the coin for it that is. What reveals itself as so satisfying about Hades is the regeneration of-sorts that occurs within each insular run. Whilst the objective remains the same each time — to battle through the underworld and reach the ‘surface’ — each singular run is rejuvenated through the excitement of new and varied powerups, how they mesh with each other, and whether this will be the run where I finally reach the surface. It is an exceptional system that conducts a loop where failure exists only as an invitation to try again: to dance with the chance of success.
Despite this marvellous gameplay loop, one would be much less enthused to engage with the repeated failures of Zagreus if the combat that connected each chamber wasn’t as good as it is. I knew within only a few chambers that not only did the combat feel good, it felt frankly special. It is well beyond cliché to remark, but you feel the force of each hit within Hades with the might in which it was struck. It occupies a space where one could hypothetically finish the game with standard attacks and dodges when needed, but fleshes out completely to accommodate a usage of each of the game’s unique moves. I immediately latched onto the dash strike — zipping around each chamber at an almost incomprehensible speed to the point where to an outsider it probably seemed as if I was smashing my keyboard and mouse like a ‘gamer’ in a tv show or film. I perhaps was not cognitively aware of each action I was making, but the rhythm of the game began to make so much sense to me that it did not matter.
As I progressed through my early runs of the game I saved every key I picked up to unlock each of the six weapons available in the game. Wonderfully, as I tried each different weapon I discovered that not only did I enjoy using every single weapon, they each encouraged me to play in severely different ways. Of course, I gravitated towards some over others — opting usually for the dash-favoured spear and twin fists — but I would often equip the heavier sword, or the ranged rifle to add to the permeating variety of every run. I would often find myself repeating several runs with a single weapon, remaining stuck at roughly the same point, only to switch to a different weapon (and subsequently a different playstyle) and find myself tackling previously challenging sections with ease. Furthermore, each weapon is accompanied by individually suited boons that enhance specific moves — and in some cases, completely change them. The previously slow and precise bow shapeshifts into a quasi-machine gun with the upgrade that allows it to fire automatically, and the shield that was formerly a movement machine through the bull rush ability shakes its short range combat in favour of a piercing shot. Overall, not only does the pleasure of the combat encourage you to keep trying and continue experimenting, the variety of each weapon, the playstyle that accompanies it, and the potential for transformation prevents the familiar repetitive feeling that can so often plague a poor roguelike.
A true testament to the replayability of Hades is not just the fact that I have ‘finished’ the game five times, but the fact that I have become almost more encouraged to play post-credits. Forward looms to promise of the definitive, ‘true’ ending, the allure of new, self-imposed challenges intended to (literally) ‘increase the heat’ of each subsequent run, yet the aspect that foremost keeps me playing is the simple and additive pleasure of the game’s rhythm that has been present since the beginning. Gone is the frustration at myself for not being able to overcome the obstacles in front of me, and I am left able to enjoy each chamber without worry that I might die because all that means is that I get to play it all over again.
