15.5 hours played
Written 5 days ago
[u][b][h1]The Context[/h1][/b][/u]
The early 2000's was one hell of a time for those privileged to have Sony's flagship sailing them off to hundreds of different worlds. The PS2 broke all kinds of records, delivering a mildly affordable DVD player and home entertainment system capable of producing 1080i for the like 12 people in America rich enough for an HDTV. A veritable [b]Golden Era of Gaming[/b].
The open-world crime boom was in full swing. GTA had flipped the industry on its head with Grand Theft Auto III in 2001, then steamrolled the genre with heavyweights like Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, GTA: San Andreas, True Crime: Streets of LA, and The Getaway. Adult, edgy, cynical games for big kids. You stole cars, you did drugs, you shot people, you heard licensed music and said "whoa, this is just like a movie.”
You had the combo-heavy, testosterone-drenched, combo-meter crack fighters. Often with questionable voice acting like the pirated anime we had on Limewire. Tekken 4&5, Virtua Fighter 4, Def Jam, MK Deadly Alliance, Onimusha, Dynasty Warriors 3&4
You had some real masterpieces, yes, but most were thematically traditional: swords, fate, anime archetypes, 40-hour campaigns, menus and turn-based battles. Think Xenosaga, Final Fantasy X, Kingdom Hearts, Suikoden III, Grandia, and Star Ocean
Then, the pint of ice cream, granny's pie, cheesy mashed potatoes—comfort foods of the PS2 lineup like Gran Turismo 3: A-Spec, Need for Speed: Underground, Madden NFL / FIFA / NBA Live (annualized to hell), and the golden boy THPS.
Or, the conversation back in class, “Mom made me stay home while I was sick, so I beat—” Jack and Daxter/Ratchet and Clank.
[u][b][h1]The Game[/h1][/b][/u]
Then came a song, with incredibly easy lyrics to remember,
[h3]“Nana nananananana na na nanana”[/h3]
A strange, unconventional little game about controlling the microscopic son of an arguably Lovecraftian cosmic royalty, rolling up volumetric exponentially expanding singularity to reconstruct the observable universe for his narcissistic father, with a soundtrack as sentient as the sum-total cast combined.
Using literally just the analogs, [b]almost ontologically bragging about DualShock in the age of the d-pad and trigger.[/b]
Every age group, every demographic enjoyed the high saturation, cartoonish whimsy.
[b]Parents could rest a bit[/b], knowing they're rolling up bears and crabs—as opposed to Ballas and GSF in San Andreas, or ripping spines out of their opponent in a fatality.
When Katamari Damacy launched, the PS2 landscape was dominated by gritty, formulaic, or risk-averse titles. Yet, here, [b]a neon origami existentialism simulator with music that could out-sing Broadway and mechanics that worked like a stress dream designed by a benevolent space clown.[/b] Unlike games that merely dabble in eclectic styles, Katamari weaves them into a cohesive emotional narrative that supports the game’s absurdist tone.
[b]Katamari dropped like a meteorite made of toy pianos and existential dread.[/b] Everyone else was trying to be Hollywood, it tried to be a public-access anime theater directed by Wes Anderson on acid.
It stood [b]alone[/b]—and in doing so, became [b]timeless[/b].
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[u][b][h1]Game TL;DR[/h1][/b][/u]
[b]Simple control scheme:[/b] Just the sticks. That’s it. [i]Minimal onboarding, maximum immersion[/i]. Analog stick gameplay focused on physics and scale
[b]Genre:[/b] Technically a puzzle-action-rolling-collection game?
[b]Visual dopamine:[/b] The moment you grow from collecting paperclips to buildings? [i]Pure gameplay transcendence.[/i]
[b]Safe chaos:[/b] Parents didn’t have to hear about prostitutes or headshots. [i]They saw their kids collecting cows and traffic cones to saxophone jazz.[/i]
[b]Tone:[/b] Whimsical, psychedelic, unironic yet self-aware
[b]Audience:[/b] Literally everyone: kids laughed, [spoiler]stoners[/spoiler] vibed, parents played
[b]Music:[/b] A hyper-emotive genre-bending J-pop jazz-fusion odyssey
[b]Aesthetic:[/b] Simple models, unashamed color saturation, surrealist animation
[u][b][h1][hr][/hr][/h1][/b][/u]
[u][b][h1]Bonus: The Soundtrack[/h1][/b][/u]
The soundtrack, oh my soul, THE SOUNDTRACK! The Katamari Damacy OST is a genre buffet: jazz, J-pop, samba, classical, chiptune, experimental electronica, bossa nova, and more. Bringing in actual J-pop and enka singers—tracks often sound like they’re winking at you, embracing absurdity while remaining musically legitimate. The sound team rolled up legit pop album feels, not just any game OST.
Each track feels like a fully-realized piece. Even working outside the context of the game, a hallmark of iconic OSTs like Final Fantasy VII or Zelda: Ocarina of Time.
Rather than just aiming for “[i]background music[/i],” it curates an identity. Every track is a musical persona within the Katamari universe. You can be six years old or sixty, and you'll find the soundtrack slaps, delivering a childlike joy embedded in every composition—and that joy is contagious.
It is musically genius, deeply experimental, emotionally joyful, and perfectly fused with the game's identity. Straight up laughing in the face of convention and completely getting away with it. It’s OST [b]is not "[i]just[/i]" game music—it’s a full-blown postmodern pop album masquerading as a soundtrack earworming you into a round oblivion, and you're glad it did.[/b]
In an era (2004) when games like Halo 2, Metroid Prime 2, and MGS3 were leaning hard into cinematic or orchestral gravitas, Katamari said:
[h3]“What if the end of the world was accompanied by a jazz piano solo, a drum loop, and someone yelling
[b]'KATAMARIIII DA-MA-CYYYYYYYYYYYY'?”[/b][/h3]
