PCE: Sylphia  .

SHE FOUGHT BEYOND DEATH . . . FOR LOVE

A good friend of mine once spoke of the “magnificent eight” — referring to neither samurai nor gunmen, but to a strong 8-out-of-10 game that touches us personally, invoking love beyond any reasonable expectation. His “magnificent eight” was the Dreamcast’s Record of Lodoss War. It’s a well-regarded game, but my friend made that thing sound like the second coming of Castlevania. His adoration was extreme, and he knew it. So he put a name to it. That’s what smart people do; they create labels for concepts so that we can efficiently communicate with one another.

My “magnificent eight” is Sylphia, a straightforward 2D shooter set in mythological Greece. Due to an abundance of extra lives and ultimate Giga Fairy Beam special attacks, attaining a one-credit clear with a ridiculous score is more of an expectation than a bragging point. Without a strong challenge and the associated sense of achievement, my mind cannot justify ranking Sylphia among the best. My heart disagrees.

Tonkin House’s tale of tragedy begins with a valiant woman warrior who looks an awful lot like Arle. She died protecting two children who had sought shelter inside Athena’s Temple; the holy shrine provided no sanctuary from the monsters’ onslaught. In this war, the swordmaiden seemed just another casualty. Her last thought: more beasts will come for these children.

The temple goddess admired the maiden’s pure-hearted wish to protect her beloved homeland . . . and so, the slain warrior’s innocent soul was transformed into a svelte tool of destruction. Sylphia was then sent far, far away to massacre all who dared oppose her.

That wasn’t the maiden’s wish, but seek-and-destroy makes for a more interesting game than sit-and-defend. Our heroine thus soars above ancient landscapes while obliterating the forces of evil with bullets, bombs, and laser beams.

Long before vikings, pirates, or ninjas, the fantastical creatures of Greek mythology captured childrens’ hearts. Sylphia delivers a cavalcade of such opponents. Bare-breasted harpies and sharp-beaked hippogriffs attack from the air. War galleys and trident-bearing dragons attack from the sea. From the land, burly Spartans heave spiked iron balls, hoping to smite the heroine as a rock-lobbing fool would smite a bird. When Sylphia shoots a Spartan, he explodes, leaving only the fallen spiked ball as a gravestone. Meanwhile, large colossi launch their rocket-fists like the Shogun Warrior Gaiking; Sylphia effortlessly blends Western childrens’ favorite monsters with Eastern childrens’ anime fantasies.

After flying above turreted ramparts and collecting power-up bee icons (escapees from Milon’s Secret Castle?), the grand colossus awaits. This enormous, static boss has nothing on the colossus from God of War II, but it’s a nostalgic encounter. Once upon a time, such enormous bosses — this one swipes at Sylphia with his hands — evoked a genuine sense of awe. The clever bit about this scene: before the battle, a little man runs inside an open door on the grand colossus, then activates it for battle. After having annihilated a slew of ferocious beasts, Sylphia’s greatest challenge thus far is a tiny little man.

He’s only the second level boss, and there are many more to come. Sylphia keeps producing surprising new opponents for every stage. This is not native Japanese mythology, but the designers immersed themselves in the spirit. Winged gargoyles carry crossbow-wielding soldiers. A skeleton charioteer — one horn broken from his ram’s head helmet — whips at Sylphia from afar. The flying chariot is pulled by manticores instead of horses. It’s as though the developers stole some child’s sketchbook and made a game based off of it. It’s as though they stole my sketchbook.

Tonkin House attached all of this wonderful imagery to one of LMS Recordings’ finest techno soundtracks. It’s too quiet in relation to the sound effects (Gate of Thunder syndrome) but the strong melodic lines evoke a sense of fantasy while the pronounced beat imposes a sense of urgency. At times magical, at other times creepy, it stands apart from other shooters.

When people aren’t debating who really developed Sylphia (Compile listed it on their website, fools), they’re usually talking about its price. Sylphia has become one of those expensive rarities that PC Engine collectors house inside glass cases for photo opportunities. My first copy had a hole in it — a puncture clear through the disc — and I still sold it for $100. After realizing my foolishness, the replacement cost far more than $100. It’s a very good game that can’t possibly live up to the heightened expectations set by its price, but I love it to death anyway because its presentation and atmosphere happen to resonate with my heart.

Sylphia is my “magnificent eight”. What’s yours?

8 out of 10