Written by: Alex

 

 

 

I remember when I was young hearing rumors of big release days in Japan. Kids skipping school to pick up new titles and salerimen calling in sick for the release of the latest hot new title to hit store shelves in this fad prone country.

 

Often these stories came courtesy of gadgets like the Tamagotchi that spawned playground tales of company presidents employing extra assistants to ensure their electronic pet stayed healthy. But foremost among all of these exotic tales of pop-culture gone wild were those of the Dragon Quests and Final Fantasys (Fantasies?)

 

Without access to the Internet print media was still what people relied on for their gaming news, so with no contradicting voice to their hyperbole filled articles these stories grew to the point of legend.

 

I remember hearing about the release of Dragon Quest 3. A game so popular the country ground to a halt, inspiring the Japanese Diet (government) to ban the release of any Dragon Quest title on a working day such was the disruption it caused, all of this over a game that at the time I had never even heard of. These stories reached me in the playground and conjured images of a gaming Utopia.

 

After a five-month delay, July 11th finally marked the release of Dragon Quest 9 (DQ9) in Japan (note that the 11th was a Saturday).

It had sat as the most anticipated game in Japan’s weekly Famitsu magazine for nigh on a year (alternating occasionally with FFXIII). I expected big things, but more from the event that the game itself. I was left feeling a little disappointed. I was half hoping to see queues outside my window from the game store around the corner but all of this was just an exaggerated echo of nineteen-year-old memories. I knew I would have to visit the store to truly see the event.

 

 

By the time I had dragged myself to the store all was quiet. A few (display?) copies remained, solitary, in the vast area that was for one day dedicated to all things Dragon Quest. To keep these few cases company some Dragon Quest toys and PS1 games lay scattered. The store, usually busy on a Saturday was eerily quiet. A few people were browsing the CDs, but the game area was deserted. The other thing that struck me was the feeling from the staff that they didn’t want to rebuild the ransacked Square-Enix area, didn’t want to work. They too wanted to be playing.

 

After that I half forgot about it. Square-Enix seemed to had done a good job keeping up with demand, obviously aware of how their game would sell regardless of quality (though it did receive full marks from Famitsu) and their advertising continued unabated. So it was that I continued about my daily life, happy to have at least half witnessed the event.

 

Then something strange happened.

 

If you read my last post about "Japanese gaming" you will notice how I talked about the exaggeration in Western media of Japan’s broad acceptance of gaming. I stand what I said there, but there are exceptions to every rule, such as Monster Hunter on PSP, which managed to draw teenaged boys in to four man gangs dotted around the streets and in parks.

 

DQ9 managed to achieve the same thing, but with a far wider demographic. Suddenly on trains, in cafes, everywhere people had their DS’s out, clutched to close the their chests. Don’t misunderstand me, it isn’t that everybody is playing, but every time you go out you will see somebody with a DS and he or she will be playing DQ9.

 

I feel left out. I have a DS but can’t follow the Kanji heavy text; even the menu screen proves impossible. So when I start to play Grand Theft Auto on my DS on the subway I am met by inquisitive glances from people around me, all of who seem a little disappointed and confused by the fact I am not playing Dragon Quest.