For the last two years the hard line Leavers were defiantly ignorant of Britain’s weak hand, the technical complexities of withdrawal agreements and the true logistic and economic costs of importing and exporting with the your largest trading partner after leaving it, so time’s almost up. Everyone’s pessimistic that any Brexit deal can pass through parliament and be agreed with the EU. The Tory government, filled with imbecilic chancers and moronic xenophobes, and a feckless Labour leadership of disingenuously pro-EU socialists, have, thanks to tribalism and selfish utopian visions, conspired to steer us towards the ‘No Deal’ iceberg. Even the DUP have taken their ball home. Probably because pro-choice gay seals reckon having the EU border in the Irish sea sounds sensible, or more likely, that a hard land border between Northern and Southern Ireland may reinvigorate violent sectarianism and bolster Unionism.
All you can do is sit back and watch, aghast. But I’m not. Fuck that luvvies. These wastes of skin shouldn’t receive any more attention. Brexit occurred in the first place because weirdo Walruses such as Gove, Farage, Raab, Mogg (she puts the lotion in the basket…) and Johnson, with their fuck experts shtick, were given too much of it by a complacent media. That and a hubris borne of colonial entitlement that leaving would restore lustre, be easy and economically beneficial, just, because.
So, to my point: as you can’t change this, why spend time wringing your hands when you still have the chance to live a little? You know, say being able to afford real cheese, to use yer central heating more than twice a week, or even better yet for £15 you can buy Yakuza 0 on Steam?
Unlike everything that’ll be imported post Brexit Yakuza 0 is a bargain. It copies GTA V’s sandbox construct, sans a few key differences – you can’t commit violent acts against the general public (sensible, given there’s so many built-in distractions), and you’re restricted entirely to an urban symposium of cramped Tokyoite and Osakan streets, eateries, shops, business and entertainment venues.
The intro sequence entices with an abortively cheesy, high-octane stadium metal score of the period playing over snippets from various stages of the game. You’re in for hedonism, criminality, oddity, violence and opulence aplenty. This makes Yakuza 0 the perfect escape from the tawdry, dismal reality of Brexit; it’s engaging, camp, glib, violent, strange and fucking funny.
A plethora of lengthy cut scenes throughout makes it seem as though you’re partaking in a game within a hard-boiled crime movie. The narrative switches between two characters (Majima and Kiryu) in two cities who have been unfairly ostracised from the Yakuza. Both are obsessively driven to return things to their previous simpler state with little collateral damage. You want them to succeed because their sense of injustice, and moral compasses, share a symmetry with the public’s desire amid Brexit’s morass to see stability and normality return.
Yakuza 0’s perpetual mini-games and events, when combined with the game’s relentless pacing, authentically mirrors the hectic connectivity of condensed city living and our experience of the contemporary digital age, and will easily appeal to millennials and younger. Its late 80’s setting appeases those of us who yearn for an escapist experience tinged with nostalgia. You know, before Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Pokémon Go and that Tamagotchi bollocks ruined the attention spans of billions. Mind you, phone boxes, they seem so alien now.
Contextually, the mini-games offer sanctuary from the thrashing style of the violence. Go into Sega Hi-Tech Land and you’ll find full Sega Genesis games. Out Run, in particular, brought back memories. There are other mini-games; bowling, darts, snooker, disco dancing (with hilariously ostentatious Saturday Night Fever style intro sequences), Mahjong, Blackjack, batting cages, and what other game offers you the chance to catch a great white shark with a shitty twig like fishing rod? The most hilarious of all is Karaoke. Just try to keep a straight face (and your concentration) when the characters get into full flow and imagine themselves as rock starts on stage, with bandanas, skin-tight leather, studs and all.
The optional substories are bizarre, ranging from assisting a mime reach the toilet in a fast food joint (before he gets caught short) without having to break his method, betting on underground catfights, saving a pushy octogenarian from getting knifed, striking up a rapport via messages written on public bathroom walls, friending a fella with a masturbation addiction, saving a junior tax officer from a beat-down (hey, you can choose to walk away, but sadly, not see him cop it) before talking through how to hone and implement a future punitive VAT policy without causing public revolt, masquerading as a TV producer, stopping teenage girls from selling their panties to lonely men, buying porn for an eight year old lad, teaching a dominatrix how to dominate a client, helping Michael Jackson and Steven Spielberg derivatives create a Thriller-esque video, and that’s just a small selection. Some of these examples may seem lewd, but housed within the game’s period setting and off-kilter stereotypically assumed Japanese sensibility, which lacks the egregious high-pitched hysteria that accompanies everything these days, you know, say the tubthumping xenophobia that helped deliver Brexit, they often come across as quaint.
Ultimately, this is a fighting game, and there’s loads of that, and it’s varied too. Majima and Kiryu have multiple fighting styles and skills which you can earn as you progress. It aint half fun mashing through Goons, Yobs, Bikers, Yakuza and teenage delinquents, and horrible bastard Yakuza boss types, pulverising them using traffic cones, street signs, baseball bats, weapons you’ve crafted, push bikes, car doors or by using special finishing ‘heat’ moves.
Even better, whilst there you feel absolutely no guilt for ignoring Brexit. So, enough wittering from me, I’m escaping back to late 80’s Japan. Where being a street fightin’ man pays dividends, hedonism was refined as it was pure, justice and honour had agency, and the Nouveau Riche got what they deserved. Join me, while you still can.