I love bullet hell games. This is something that, while maybe a little difficult to discern over my work on the internet, all of my friends know quite well. I love Touhou Project, I love CAVE games (particularly Deathsmiles), and I incessantly check the bullet hell tag on Itch.io for up-and-comers within the genre. In my opinion, despite how daunting the typical chaotic and frenzied gameplay of the genre appears, if you put some time into getting good at any given game, you'll very quickly find that the bullet hell has the potential to be one of the most rewarding, satisfying and fun genres of video games on the market. I tell you this to establish that I do not take issue with Deltarune for being "too difficult"—in fact, the game is, generally, in my experience, laughably easy. This is less of a talk about the design of Deltarune and more a talk about the damage neglecting to implement an "easy mode" within the game—a plea I've heard in increasing numbers throughout the past couple of day—actually causes. Now, let me be clear—this is not your standard difficulty accessibility discussion; Lord knows you've read enough of those. The question presented in this article's title, "should Deltarune have an easy mode," is fundamentally different from questions like "should Dark Souls have an easy mode." Deltarune, in its inclusion of bullet hell elements within its core gameplay systems, has essentially backed itself into this corner in a way that a Dark Souls has not, and furthermore, to deprive players of options pertaining to accessibility when it comes to the game's difficulty is to undermine the conventions of the genre it inhabits and, within this undermining, actively harm a player's ability to "get good" and, more importantly, have fun.
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| Konata vs. 100 Jevils. The source image was already pretty compressed, so I did everyone a favour and compressed it even more. It's my artistic vision. |
To begin with, let's examine Deltarune's battle system—the heart of this debate. Much like its 2015 predecessor, Undertale, the game blends the genre conventions of JRPGs and bullet hell games to create a unique and interesting spin on the gameplay of both. In Deltarune, during the player's turn, they can do what you'd expect from any JRPG—fight, use an item, cast a spell, defend—as well as perform less conventional actions (originating from Undertale), namely personally interacting with an enemy via "ACT" commands, and, given these "ACT"s sufficiently endear the party to their foes, ending the battle peacefully. In the enemy's turn, instead of performing an attack that applies a flat damage penalty to any given party member, inflicting status effects or healing itself (your standard JRPG fare), a square-like border spins into frame as the enemies begin to assault the player (as represented by a small red heart, dubbed their "SOUL" (a clear homage to stylized depictions of player hit-boxes in bullet hell games)) with challenging bullet patterns that the player is meant to dodge and weave through; if they're hit, the enemy gets to deal damage, and if they aren't, the player is rewarded for their demonstration of skill by escaping the turn without any damage taken—a rare luxury in most JRPGs.
Now, I find this battle system to be fascinating for many reasons—primarily, for its incredibly high skill ceiling. As not to bombard you with too much theory, within Deltarune, there is a vast disparity between the skill floor (the bare minimum amount of skill required to succeed) and the skill ceiling (the theoretical "perfect" performance). Bullet hell games tend to have a decently high skill floor, higher than most games, anyway; it's part of the appeal. Likewise, they have a massively high skill ceiling. For example, the games are visually daunting, leaving unsuspecting spectators in awe that you are even able to comprehend what is happening on screen, let alone survive it, and let alone style on them in the process. Deltarune breaks this trend by tying its punitive system to the party's health, allowing players to survive as many hits as their RPG prowess allows (as opposed to the three-to-five hits most other bullet hell games allow before sending your ass back to the title screen). Conversely, the potential for rewarding skill expression in the system is incredibly high—if you're good enough, as mentioned, you can escape a turn without any damage taken, along with gobs of TP, or Tension Points (rewarded for grazing bullets, a mode of skill expression common in bullet hell games), which translates to earning extra money at the end of a battle. So, what's the problem? Well, to me, as mentioned, there is no problem. I can probably count the times I've seriously been challenged in Deltarune on, like two, maybe three hands. However, if you'd remember, I'm a bullet hell aficionado. I'll be fine—I can dodge things like this without issue:
| From Mushihimesama. The astute players among the crowd will be able to tell that there were many issues afoot. Don't tell them that. Let them think that I'm cool, and incredibly good at scary-looking 2004 anime insect shooters. Please. My lesbian nerd cred relies on this. Please. |
... The truth is, this isn't about me. This is about people who, without the requisite experience with tougher games, struggle with Deltarune, because, even in its easiest form, the bullet hell is not an easy genre, nor is it one someone is capable of being innately good at. To even get by half-competently in a bullet hell is to put in hours upon hours of practice into it—refining your senses, developing your technique and controlling your nerves—and that's just not something that's currently possible within Deltarune for the sole reason that, if you're bad at the game, you die, and there's no way to progress; no second chance, no other option and no lighter difficulties to switch to. Unfortunately, this just isn't how bullet hells roll—and since Deltarune's gameplay is more "bullet hell" than it is "JRPG," it simply must conform to the conventions of the genre that, shockingly, exist for a reason.
The way I like to onboard new bullet hell players is by sending them the link to the Taisei Project (a Touhou fan-game playable in your web browser) website and telling them to start a game on Lunatic difficulty while I spectate. I watch as they are utterly eviscerated—oftentimes, they're out of continues by the end of Stage 1. Then, I say, "Okay, maybe that's too hard for you. Let's try Hard mode, instead." Ditto. "Normal." Ditto, but they get further this time, maybe into Stage 2. "Easy." Ditto, but they get much further this time, maybe into Stage 3 or 4. By the time they persevere through Easy mode and get their first clear, they're hooked—and my work is done. Once they're done with Taisei Project, I recommend them other, more challenging games, and all is well. Now, imagine how this scenario I've lived many-a-time would play out if Lunatic was the only difficulty available. Can you imagine how fast they would have quit? Would you throw your baby into the deep end of a pool hoping it would swim if you knew you weren't able to pull them out of the water and teach them the normal way? The fact is, bullet hell games rely on easy modes to be learnable, and, more importantly, fun. I'm not saying some freak hasn't put Perfect Cherry Blossom's Lunatic mode on and just thugged it out before, but I definitely didn't do that, and I don't know anyone who did, either. There is no logical reason to assert that this is how everyone should be playing these games. Personally, I'll probably never touch the easy mode of a bullet hell game again in my life—I've graduated from needing them. Likewise, I've never played Deltarune and gone, "man, I sure do wish there was an easy mode right about now." However, the option is what enables growth within those who do need an easy mode—more than injecting a "pity mode" after they die a couple of times to a boss ever could. Ask yourself: is getting pitied by the game fun to you? Sure, it's an alright gesture—giving the player healing items, lowering attack damage and more after a boss defeats the player—but it strips the player of their agency, and it won't help them grow in the long run; what a player needs is the ability to, at will, cut their losses and decide to lower the difficulty of the game until their skills are refined to the point where they feel comfortable raising the difficulty. At this point, they still get their shit kicked in, but they've now got the tools they need to persevere, and they come out of this higher difficulty better at the game than when they first deemed themselves ready to enter it.
But who's to say that they need to be good at the game? At its core, Deltarune is a story-based RPG. There exists an eternal disconnect between its gameplay mechanics and its narrative, and while I enjoy both, there's a sizable amount of people who only care about the story—and that's fine! You paid $25 for this game, damn it; you should be allowed to play how you want. Love Spamton, and want to defeat his secret upgraded form, Spamton NEO? Well, if you suck at the game, you can kiss that dream goodbye. Are you big on the lore, and want to see what the Shadow Crystals end up unlocking in Chapter 6, but don't have the skill to defeat all five super-bosses required to obtain them? You're shit out of luck, buddy! I've had many friends straight-up quit the game upon entering a challenging segment, opting to run away with their tail between their legs and watch whatever scene was behind the fight they couldn't complete on YouTube. This simply would not be a problem with an easy mode—and, in my humble opinion, playing a video game you paid for is better than not playing a video game you paid for.
There's also a conversation to be had here about how accessibility features like this would positively affect how disabled people are able to experience the game. Disabled himself, Fox (along with the rest of the development team) have shown great effort in making Deltarune accessible for people with all sorts of disabilities. For example, in Deltarune Chapter 4: Prophecy's Second Sanctuary area, Susie blindly follows who she believes to be her mentor, the Old Man, into the darkness. However, he acts strangely, refusing to speak to her and leading her further into the dark as you're forced to follow her—your screen now entirely black. In time, it is revealed that this was not the Old Man, but rather the Sound of Justice—a metal statue brought to life by Susie's creation of the Dark World. The ensuing fight, as the name suggests, takes place in near darkness, relying on numerous, rapid-fire directional sound cues to convey exactly when and where the player should block to survive the onslaught. The fight begins with some visual aid in the form of brief flashes of light in the direction of the oncoming bullets, as well as the ability to see bullets around you from a distance great enough to react without any sound cues at all; however, as the fight progresses, these visual aids eventually fade away, leaving the player to rely purely on their sense of sound. So... what if they're, y'know, deaf?
| The Sound of Justice attacking Susie. |
Well, thankfully, they thought of that—alongside a seriously astounding combination of similarly impeding scenarios, ranging from something as drastic as severe hearing loss to something as mundane as having your headphones on backwards. Prior to the fight, as you follow Susie into the darkness, you begin to hear strange sounds in the distance. Susie will stop you and ask if you can hear a given sound, then, if you can, what direction it's coming from and what it sounds like. If you answer these questions incorrectly—telling her you can't hear them, that they come from the wrong side, that it sounds nothing like what it actually sounds like—the game will silently take note and, when the fight starts, prevent the aforementioned visual aids from disappearing. This is a wonderful feature which expertly balances accessibility and maintaining immersion—it's a truly seamless calibration system, and the simple act of opting not to remove visual aids when in doubt covers every possible scenario in one fell swoop. Personally, I'm not hard of hearing, but I'm incredibly poor with auditory processing—if you forced me to discern lyrics in songs without any sort of help at gunpoint, I'd probably just accept my fate—so, a lot of the time, I intentionally flag myself within the game's calibration to make the fight playable. Now, this solves a minor inconvenience. Imagine how helpful this is to deaf people, who would otherwise be entirely unable to complete this fight?
However, Deltarune is strange in that it does not apply this thoughtfulness evenly; the Sound of Justice fight is an amazing example of how to smoothly integrate accessibility in video games, but Deltarune seems at time entirely incapable of following its own example. For instance, let's look at the "Simplify VFX" option in the settings menu. It is not made clear what this little thing does, but it's fair to assume that it disables visual effects that may trigger certain conditions like epilepsy or otherwise mitigate risk of eye-strain or motion sickness or "simplifies" intricate visual effects (like shaders) that may cause performance issues on sub-par hardware. It does none of these things. There's a cursory effort to achieve both (slowing down some specific instances parallax scrolling, reducing the brightness of flashes, removing complex animated backgrounds, and some more changes to minor elements—a full list can be found here) but the team's efforts diminish by the Chapter. By Chapter 4—a Chapter that makes liberal use of complex and potentially strenuous shaders? Toggling the option 'on' does nothing. By Chapter 5? It's not even there; it's replaced by the option to turn off Flowery's voice clips, and, later, to change the control scheme of the Chapter's 2D platforming gimmick. Ironically, yesterday, the team released a patch to Deltarune that "shoddily added" the "ability to permanently re-enable [Flowery's] Voice Clips ... if you lose to [Flowery] and have them disabled." Ironically, this change was clearly added because Flowery's boss fight regularly relies on his Voice Clips to act as audio cues for incoming attacks, rendering them vital to be enabled; this same consideration was evidently not extended to anyone hard of hearing, who probably need this grace more than people who simply thought Flowery's Voice Clips were annoying at the start of the Chapter and decided to disable them.
It seems to me that Deltarune is in desperate need of an overhaul in accessibility—whether that's in regards to difficulty or not. Why is it that some people, like myself, get to play Deltarune happily and without issue, while others are unable to do the same? Why is it that I get to uncompromisingly experience the joy of Deltarune's story, but others are forced to quit the game and look a recording of it up on YouTube? Why is it that we both paid you the same amount of money?
-Kim
By the way, thanks to Triff for his Bluesky post on the matter. The thesis of this post was originally meant to be a reply to that one, but, upon running into the low-character-limit wall mid-post, I decided to escape my micro-blogging hell for once and return to my normal blog one.
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