There are times when you just can’t help it. Your toes involuntarily tap the surface on which your feet rest and your head bulges like a sharp parakeet. Just admit it, dude. You’re a sucker for that killer beat. And you’re kidding poor. Maybe you should talk to someone about it. You are no longer content with being a vain listener, you want to quantify your musical experience. You want to score – not for dollars, but for points. “Can you link me something?” you beg.
Relax. Everything is chill.
We all know that melody is crucial to the experience of a game. The music is irrevocably deeply intertwined. But what about when the melody is the experience? There are some big names in the rhythm game scene, but there can only be one founder: a beanie-wearing, rap-spittin pup named Parappa. Ask for him.
But first, some context about where music and more specifically hip-hop was in the 90s. We’re not here to rave about Lil’ Naz X, Jay-Z, or Limp Bizkit (especially not Limp Bizkit), but to focus on the “golden age” of 90s rap. A few notable debut releases included Dr. Dre’s “The Chronic”, NAS’ “Illmatic” and Notorious BIG’s “Ready To Die”. It was in the last album that we can find an interesting text and reference. In an effort to contrast his humble roots with his current rap prosperity, Biggie Smalls (as we’ll call him from now on) eloquently says in the 1994 song “Juicy”:
“Super Nintendo, Sega Genesis, when I was dead unhappy, man, I couldn’t imagine this.”
This is remarkable on two levels: a) it shines a light on the way a rap god uses his recreational downtime (from Class they don’t rap 24/7) and b) it served as the first major example to bridge the gap between games and rap music. That same decade, a Japanese game studio would add brick, mortar and galvanized steel to the same bridge Biggie built. A revolutionary game that emerged from the fertile ground of the beat-driven 90s.
THE WAY OF THE DOG
By the time Playstation hit their first million units in the Japanese market in 1994, musician Masaya Matsuura was already an established performer in the synthesizer-led band Psy・S (pronounced “size”). In 1993, Matsuura founded NanaOn-Sha studios after already experimenting heavily with sampling and reaching out to colleagues at Sony Computer Entertainment for a future somehow related to music. Meanwhile, cartoonist Rodney Greenblat was contracted out at an adjacent Sony studio to put together a cast of super-cute characters for Sony Creative. According to Greenblat’s involvement with Matsuura, “He was already a fan of my artwork and when he found out I was already working for Sony, he asked the folks at Sony Creative Products if I wanted to design the characters and the world for his game. Of course I said yes.”
The end result would be the rapping dog Parappa and his squad of paper-thin cohorts. Greenblat goes on to describe the process. “Matsuura wanted the main character to be a happy, sweet, slightly naive dog. I made several sketches and Sony Creative chose a dog with a pointed hat. Matsuura liked it too, and he came up with a name for the game: Parappa The Rapper. ‘Paappa’ is a kind of pun on Japanese words meaning ‘thin paper.’ That’s how Parappa was born.”
Above the hood, Parappa’s main goal is to win the heart of the lavish (literal) flower girl Sunny Funny, while also learning how to fight, drive, cook and control his gut for Sunny; for those who don’t know, I’m referring to Level 5, in which a sudden stomachache prompts Parappa to beat his teachers for the gas station bathroom’s priority before it’s too late. A completely recognizable scenario.
Under the hood of the game you would find a rumbling engine spawning debut mechanics that would pave the way for an entire genre. Parappa’s gameplay revolved around a sort of “Simon Says” format in which players accurately repeated the increasingly difficult raps of his karate, driver, flea market, and cooking instructors (in that order). Take Parappa’s lesson with Chop Chop Master Onion. Since this is the first level, it serves as a tutorial on how the game’s mechanics work. After Master Onion’s introductory rap, a grid will appear at the top of the screen (as in any level), where his commands, KICK, PUNCH, and BLOCK, will appear. Each command corresponds to a specific button on your Playstation controller. In this case, KICK = triangle, PUNCH = circle and CHOP = X. The trick is to press the corresponding button at the right time when it is Parappa’s turn to “repeat” the commands back.
No blood, no big battles, no side quests, just timed button presses. The game’s careful pace, low stakes, and goal of hitting rap rankings of “COOL” or “GOOD”, while simply avoiding the “BAD” score seems almost absurdly minimalistic compared to the current offerings of rhythm games but in the moment you could think about how to delay diarrhea and nail destroyers to win your sweet floral hunny.
RHYTHM ON REPEAT
Parappa’s unprecedented success was embraced and studied by other developers in hopes of jumping on the rhythm game train. In 1998, incredibly cool but sweaty kids could be seen hopping and stomping on the neon dance platforms of Dance, Dance Revolution. The platform featured a grid that acted like an oversized controller with a similar “Simon Says” mechanic, but with one significant difference: dancing. It took the world by storm and its allure has yet to fade. Currently, there are 27 official versions of the game that can be played on arcade platforms or on home consoles that no doubt work as an alternative to a gym membership.
Do you remember Guitar Hero in 2005? Of course it is. How about Guitar Hero themed parties, with pure licks from your favorite bands in the comfort of your buddy’s filthy apartment. Developer Harmonix took GH to the next level in 2009 with Rock Band, the first game to feature interactive drums, bass guitar and microphone for an immersive experience that wasted many a Friday night in the best possible way.
The 2020 indie game feels like an almost instant Parappa homage, with its flat cartoon graphics and late 90s styles. That forces you to pronounce every syllable: Friday Night Funkin’. The game is open source (which lends itself to some really questionable mods), the Parappa-esque mechanics are pushed to a difficulty level that is comically frustrating, and the tunes are catchy as hell. There is currently a mix CD full of FNF tunes in my car. Nothing weird about it. I driver around little people (my kids). Whatever.
Interestingly enough, rap and games now seem synonymous, as many artists like to admit that they play, promote and occasionally contribute. However, you don’t have to be a rapper or even a hardcore gamer to appreciate the impact and influence of this little dog. Aside from his own PS4 remaster, his own anime, and a recent shortlist in the World Video Games Hall of Fame, Parappa the Rapper pioneered an entirely new genre of games that continues to grow and thrive.
For that, all current and future rhythm developers owe him a nice relaxing scratch, or at least buy this dog a fresh new beanie.
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