On the Simple Pleasure of Just Entertaining Yourself in ‘Yakuza 0’

If you’re not playing Yakuza 0 right now, why aren’t you playing Yakuza 0 right now? Okay, so it’s a PlayStation 4 exclusive. Borrow a friend’s console. It costs a bit, as it’s newly released, I hear that. So sell some old games you don’t need. Because you really should be playing Sega’s latest entry in its long-running series of gangster histrionics and slapstick hijinks, as Patrick made about as clear as can be over here. It doesn’t matter if you’ve no experience of earlier titles—this is a perfect hopping-on point.

I’m not exactly new to the series—I’ve played chunks of the PS2 original, as well as Yakuza 3 and 4, although (for shame) I’ve not actually finished any of them. I also have Yakuza 2 and 5 kicking about at home, and even picked up the zombie-slaughtering spin-off Dead Souls because why not, I guess. Maybe the urge will take me one day.

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I’ve laid the groundwork to actually get somewhere this time, then. But I’m not expecting to finish the prequel-styled 0—ten hours in, and I’m still in the starting red-light district of Kamurocho, roaming around its neon-drenched streets and parks, busting heads and pumping coins into arcade machine slots.

I’m still here because I’ve become somewhat derailed from the central narrative by a simple, elegant command, which popped up in the upper-right corner, ages ago now: “Entertain Yourself”. I think I first saw it when I stopped in one of Kamurocho’s arcades and played a few games of Space Harrier (Yakuza 0 is set in 1988, so expect contemporary distractions). I’ve now “entertained myself” almost 30 times.

Yakuza has a history of putting old video games within its new video games, so finding Space Harrier was no surprise—and Out Run is here, too, which can lead to a neat side story of high-score chasing. Yakuza 3, for example, has a Club Sega arcade with the rather fancier-looking shooter Boxcelios in it, a bespoke production but one that aesthetically reflects the period setting of the late 00s. Yakuza 4 features Boxcelios‘ sequel, plus Virtua Fighter pachinko machines to be thoroughly confused by.

Related, on VICE: Read Bit Socket’s Beginner’s Guide to the Yakuza Series.

And it’s not like Yakuza pioneered this sort of thing, either. Its spiritual predecessor of 1999, the 1986-set Shenmue, had Out Run and Space Harrier machines available, while its sequel contained a playable, albeit well hidden, After Burner cab.

There are also non-digital pursuits to explore in Yakuza 0, from my favorite of darts, staged in the awesomely jazzy Vincent bar (where you can get a game of pool in, too, and sample an array of whiskeys and beers), to rhythm-action disco dancing, ten-pin bowling, glitter-ball karaoke and baseball batting target practice. Want to slow down? There’s mahjong and the chess-like shogi available, too (although I am helpless at both).

These mini-games aren’t filler-style after-thoughts, as considerately designed as any sport-relevant standalone game from years gone by.

These aren’t filler-style after-thoughts, either—I spent a good 45 minutes on darts alone the other night, playing through its difficulty levels, beating them all and then taking another patron’s money when he stepped up to challenge me. (Like anyone can compete with my “TON80” game.) Bowling and pool are as considerately designed as any sport-relevant standalone game from years gone by, the former’s power bar and spin control evocative of Super Monkey Ball 2‘s mini-game, and no doubt other simulations, too.

The dancing and karaoke are just The Most Fun, the player-controlled Kazuma Kiryu shaking off his significant stresses to stir up a dancefloor fever in the former and slipping into dazzling rock-star daydreams in the latter. While in the club, you have to move a ghostly cursor around an overlaid grid to align with notes, mapped to one of the four face buttons—hit them all when you should, and your fellow partygoers will go wild. When you’re losing yourself in the delivery of a song, buttons are precisely tapped, rapidly hammered and carefully held in time with an array of rockers and ballads. Do well, and you’ll be crowned the karaoke king, just like me.

There’s loads more to dig into—some of which isn’t quite so family-friendly (but is still fairly PG-13, TBH)—but I’m not here to offer a guide to Yakuza 0‘s many and varied mini-games. I simply wanted to highlight the pleasure of seeing a video game explicitly say, enjoy yourself. Like: “Hey, you there, Player One. I know, there’s some heavyweight shit going on right now. That guy who cut his little finger off is pissed, no doubt. You’ve made some enemies you didn’t have to worry about a week ago. And this real estate business is looking shadier and shadier. But forget that for an hour: here’s a club that’s open all hours, so go and shake that sexy ass.”

Somehow, the (repeated) breaking from the drama doesn’t feel counterproductive to the overall plot—it’s as if time just stands still in Yakuza 0 while the not-an-Uncle-yet Kaz—and later his eyepatch-sporting pal Goro Majima—are set free to just have fun. Clint Hocking’s (in)famous “ludonarrative dissonance” observation, undeniably applicable to many other games where trivial side-questing or the moment-to-moment extreme action work to undermine the story at play, simply doesn’t factor.

And it’d be cool to put a thumb on exactly why that’s the case here, through deeper digging into just what makes Yakuza tick. But, frankly, I’m too busy using that thumb to fondle the right stick on my way to another 180. Getting three in a bed is all about the rhythm of the wrist, you know—something that would have made that other attraction, down a darker alleyway of Kamurocho, a much muckier proposition.

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