Sure, I’m not the biggest railfan, and trains aren’t a major special interest nowadays, but I do remember loving my Thomas the Tank Engine table with a whole setup when I was a little boy, and I was enchanted by the train setup that one of the museums in DC would have at Christmas (I think it was one of the art museums). There is also something deeply satisfying about an old steam engine that I can’t quite put my finger on. I also am blessed to live in the only part of the US with good high-speed rail. I’ve traipsed through Virginia on it as well as points north.
Denshattack! is a game about trains. It is not about steam trains, or Amtrak, or anything vaguely resembling an actually realistic portrayal of actual rail transit.
And my god it is one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.
My sister sold this game to me with something like “imagine making a game out of the rail grinding sections from a Sonic game,” and that’s still the best description of it I can come up with. Its creators have said they’ve taken influence from games like Crazy Taxi and Jet Set Radio and the Tony Hawk Pro Skater games but I confess to having played none of those. I am, however, a Sonic fan, so that is how I think of it.
The goal of any given level of Denshattack! is to drive your train through whichever prefecture of Japan you are in, do absolutely wild tricks as you soar through the air, racking up points for the final score, collect the scattered trinkets that unlock you various goodies, and progress to the next level. Sometimes, you are on errands, like delivering ramen. Sometimes, you are vandalizing the megaprojects of the dystopian megacorporation that rules Japan. Sometimes, you are racing another gang of outlaw train drivers, ramming them off the track.
There is something about that previous description, though, that feels almost gutless. There are several moments while playing through this game where I audibly said “holy shit” at the panoply of color, breakneck speed, and pure chaos that the game was displaying for me all at once. You are darting through a technicolor Japan, with torii and forests and mountains and all the beautiful things that country has to offer, but you also get to drive a train up through the innards of the Tokyo Tower. I’m struggling to use words to get the impression of this game across, as it is simply so hectic, so all-consuming, so demanding of the senses and of reflexes. It is, and I mean this in the most complimentary way imaginable, “a lot.” But if you like fast, or if you enjoy the experience of a pastel-colored sensory overload, you will love Denshattack!.
If this game is to be believed, Japanese trains can fly. So much of this game is spent leaping and soaring over rails. After a certain point in the story, you literally get to learn how to harness the winds and soar over great distances. This is one of several ways the game shows off the beautifully drawn environments it has in every level. You go all over Japan, performing wild tricks in the mountains, on the coasts, and in the cities. You grind on rails, like a skateboard, and bounce off of gigantic billboards.
Many commentators have compared this game’s narrative skeleton to that of a shonen anime and I think that’s right. Your protagonist and player character is Emi Araki, a young woman who, by virtue of delivering ramen in her train to the right person, is set on her way to becoming the greatest denshattacker in history, as well as toppling the tyranny of the Miraido corporation, which rules Japan with an iron fist covered by the velvet glove of domed cities claiming to be the last inhabitable places in the archipelago. Outside of the domed cities-cum-fortresses that Miraido rules, the country is essentially Mad Max: Commuter Rail Edition, with roving gangs of trains vying for dominance in lives that are nasty, brutish, and short.
Despite all this, Emi keeps her head held high and has nothing but the utmost confidence in herself, and I found that to be one of her most endearing qualities. Whenever you, the player, send your train careening off the track, you get one of the characters either encouraging you or rebuking your incompetence. As you go through the game, winning duels between your little engine that could on the one hand and souped-up battle trains on the other, winning more and more to your cause, more characters join the carousel of people either reassuring you or mocking you as you die. This means that, in the beginning, you mainly see Emi or Fernando (the aforementioned right person) saying nice things to you. Emi simply says that she (represented by you, the player) will do it right this time. I find it quite sweet, really, that this game finds it right to encourage you after making a mistake, rather than insulting you for getting it wrong. I’m tempted to contrast this with something like the difficulty settings of a Wolfenstein game, for example, with easier difficulties paired with pictures of action hero B. J. Blaskowicz with a baby’s bonnet on his head and pacifier in his mouth. There’s a goodheartedness here, an agape, that I found to be quite joyful, and it was a big part of what propelled me to keep playing to the end.
Players with a frothing hatred of what neoliberal capitalism is doing to the world (which is really the rational response to the state of said world) will find the plot of this game positively cathartic. Miraido, the corporation ruling Japan, is an organization run by the callous, the cruel, and those absolutely willing to tell brazen lies for profit, which makes it a very accurate depiction of corporations. Also like real corporations, it hides all of this, not particularly convincingly, behind a facade of geniality and friendliness. Miraido has this orange mascot in a blue uniform named Molty, a faux-endearing animal who delivers dehumanizing policy in the chipper voice of a mandatory all-staff meeting where the CEO tells you that we’re a family.
I can imagine that last bit made at least a few readers tense up, or breathe more quickly.
Now imagine ramming a train through all of that. That, ultimately, is the story of Denshattack!, and it ends in the most satisfyingly explosive way imaginable. It also ends in a way that is thematically relevant to our current moment, with enough profundity and enough topicality that it goes beyond a simple excuse.
One last thing that stands out: the music. I am not particularly familiar with the artists featured on the soundtrack, but I can vouch that every single stage has its own unique song with so much craft and so much love poured into it. Likewise, as someone whose musical tastes tends towards jazz and blues I wouldn’t be the person to give a proper genre taxonomy of all this, but I will say that my sister showing me this song from the soundtrack is what piqued my interest in the game as a whole. If you want more, I recommend this one and this one and this one and also this one that’s a bonus on the soundtrack. This soundtrack has been a good majority of what I’ve been listening to at work the past few weeks.
Trying to explain Denshattack! in words still feels hollow, unsatisfying. The game is such a sensory experience - the music, the art, the sheer speed and force of your train slamming down on the rail - that trying to convey the sensation of being there with words on a screen just feels woefully insufficient. Suffice to say, it is fun, colorful, and joyfully optimistic, with a swinging soundtrack to boot. But don’t take it from me - take it from the thrill you’ll feel when you start zipping through such a colorful Japan in that refurbished train car. I’ll see you on the rails.
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POSTED BY: Alex Wallace, alternate history buff who reads more than is healthy
