Review 1 (6/10)
Review 2 (8/10)The Good
But, if the only reason to not get on with Space Giraffe was its vertical learning curve and in-the-zone superhuman skills, that'd be fine. We've absolutely no issue with games like that - you just have to practise, practise, and practise some more until you stop sucking. We grew up with these games, at a time when they were the norm, if anything, and still appreciate the purity they can offer that's so unlike the mainstream offerings out there today.
In fact, there's a lot we liked about Space Giraffe - the otherworldly sound of a girl speaking numbers in Welsh is possibly the most inspired menu accompaniment ever, and some of the game's humorous references leave you with a big grin on your face for the first few goes. Odd references to everything from J Allard to the KLF and the beloved Commodore 64 remind you that only Llamasoft could have ever made a game so god damned off the wall. The fact that games like this can even get made these days is cause for celebration, and we can't help but want to give Microsoft credit for making it possible. No-one else would have.
The Bad
The main problem with extracting enjoyment out of Space Giraffe is a lot simpler than that: it's more to do with its determination to obscure the playfield with Minters' beloved Neon light visualisation than any fundamental flaw in the gameplay mechanics. As painful as it might be for the vocal band of hardcore followers to admit, the psychedelic backdrops do absolutely nothing but provide a hindrance when playing the game. If I want to see the screen melting gently in a rainbow swirl to the sound of hypnotic electronica, I'll ingest some psychotropic substance of choice, pop the appropriate mindbending playlist on the 360, have some friends over and giggle like six year-olds until the sun rises. Trying to play a progressive take on Tempest with all that going on in the background is, at best, far out maaaan, and at worst, just a monumental annoyance as a muddled mess of indistinct enemies blur into a swirling vortex of colour. So much of the time you're dying because, well, you can't tell what the yak is going on. If your eyes can adjust to the splodgenessabounds, then well done you, but you're in a minority.
All of which leads me to the conclusion that Space Giraffe is a tragically wasted opportunity on so many levels. The expectation was there, and the time was right for Jeff Minter and co. to show the world the kind of rare talent that have been missed for so long. Yet what they've delivered feels wilfully, almost criminally self-indulgent to the point that even the most ardent hardcore shooter fans will question some of the design decisions. Even if you make allowances for the game's exceptionally niche appeal, Space Giraffe misses the mark for the simple reason that it's too busy projectile vomiting colour over the indistinct enemies to let players get on and enjoy what might have been an intelligent progression of an all-time classic. As many exasperated Londoners might be exclaiming at this point, you're 'avin a giraffe, Jeff.
The Good
There's a sense that you're not just fighting enemies here; you're actively nurturing a play area, attempting to set up the conditions for the best score possible. Simply shooting everything is a tactic that stops working early in the game; as you progress, you're expected to take a holistic approach that "gardens" the playing grid until the time is right to bull a large number of enemies off at once.
That, for me at least, is what makes Space Giraffe extraordinary. I'll admit it up front - I don't have the reactions required for twitch shooters any more, much as I love the genre, but Space Giraffe actually offers something vastly more strategic and cerebral than most other shooters. It's hidden away under a thick layer of eye-blasting visuals, silly humour and fast-paced action, but it's there and it's utterly compelling.
It's not like the backdrops just sit there and look pretty, either. They are a core element of the game to a large extent, and deliberately or not, Space Giraffe is a remarkably successful experiment on human perception. The light synth confuses our visual input, in effect; it makes visual feedback useful only in a general sense, obscuring the fine but vital details like bullets.
Instead, you're forced to rely on auditory feedback for those game systems - the unique audio cues which Space Giraffe uses for every event in the game. Shooting bullets and flowers, and listening for the resulting sounds, builds up a map of what's happening, even when a flare from the light-synth is obscuring reliable visual information. For some players, this will be incredibly frustrating; for others, however, the moment when this mechanism clicks in your head is an eye-opener, a revelatory unveiling of a whole new level to the game.
The Bad
Ah, yes - the eye-blasting visuals. A common and perfectly understandable complaint about Space Giraffe is that you can't see what's going on due to Minter's inclusion of light synth backdrops, which plaster your screen with bright plasma effects that do frequently obscure important gameplay elements like enemy bullets or flower stems.
It's a legitimate complaint - but once again, I find myself remembering standing over my kitchen sink gagging on the taste of a condiment my flatmate can happily munch down by the teaspoonful. To me, the light-synth backdrops are a major part of the appeal of Space Giraffe; a kind of trippy, ecstatic visual that plays with your perception and draws you deeply into the experience of the game.
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