Klonoa 2: Lunatea's Veil

No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist

       Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;

Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd

       By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;

               Make not your rosary of yew-berries,

       Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be

               Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl

A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;

       For shade to shade will come too drowsily,

               And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.

If there was a game in my lengthy career as an avid gamer that initially made me realize the emotional power of the medium, it would be Klonoa 2: Lunatea's Veil. Made for the Playstation 2 in 2001, I was about twelve years old when I got this game. As a twelve year old, I didn't think much of a lasting impression games could have emotionally and morally, though some hints could be felt depending on my engagement in the actual adventure. Games were still only forms of immersive entertainment that promised me a chance to enter a world totally unfamiliar and the ability to explore this world to my heart's desire. This revelation in gaming significance, at such a young age, came when I laid my hands on this Namco release that presented itself as a supremely kid-friendly game, one that showed bright colors and characters that would be fit to become stuffed animals. At twelve, those were the kinds of games I was looking for, partly, strangely, as a way to appease my newly found nostalgia for the games I played on the Nintendo 64. Initially playing this game, I was absorbed by the kid-friendly tone, not knowing what would happen by the time I finished the game.

Leaving the personal anecdote aside, Klonoa 2: Lunatea's Veil is far more than its 'kiddy' exterior. Here is a game that relishes bombastic visuals with simplistic gameplay and then ultimately opens up a narrative that blossoms into a stark commentary of emotional suppression. We control Klonoa, a dream traveler who always is transported to new lands when sleeping, waking up to a place of unfamiliarity each an every time. One could even say that this dream traveler navigates into a dreamscape, this game makes a clear point of that possibility.

This retro platformer, as so because of its 2D (in a 3D environment) display, creates a world that embodies many emotions. Broken up into four lands, each land has a distinct emotion tagged on to it that determines the look and feel of each world. There is La-Lakoosha, kingdom of Tranquilty, Joliant, kingdom of Joy, Volk, kingdom of discord, and Mira-Mira, kingdom of Indecision. These realms are all dominated by that one emotion: Joliant is one huge theme park, Volk is always at war with itself. They are the dominions of a visualization that encompasses the depth of complexity of each emotion, but ultimately highlighting the limitations of each emotion.

I recall Mira-Mira with much admiration. A brilliantly designed world that functions of illusory aesthetics. It is a snow drenched dominion dominated by a large mansion that functions as a house of optical illusions. In a world of austere indifference, one can only suspect that this world is a shell of something else. We explore each of the levels curiously, both in trying to figure out what illusory puzzle is presented before us but also to fills ourselves sup with the colorful abstractions of the world. Mira-Mira is so intelligently put together that our curiosities are quenched in a manner of interactivity. The length of the levels seem to bring out the limitations of indecision.

The fifth world, the land of sorrow, is the one that emerges from the seas of Lunatea. What transpires when you arrive there is revelatory, a great story of how we function with our emotions. This is why I started off this essay with Keat's Ode to Melancholy. We must not forget sorrow or even hide from it, but embrace it as part of the coagulation of other emotions. This platformer, which also happens to be simply a fun game, is an Ode to Sorrow. We traverse through a dreamscape of heightened emotions, illustrations of their core motivations and desires. Klonoa 2: Lunatea's Veil is a game that is not afraid to place a moral message into its simplistic mechanical approach. Though I will say the game is pretty easy throughout, it pulsates with ambition and feeling.