We all know the two feelings that come after a boss battle. A tense and lengthy battle of tactics and effort can leave you feeling battered, yet somewhat exhilarated. Facing a tough, spam-happy opponent with multiple stages and no checkpoints can have you thinking seriously about tracking down the designers. By 1998 I had experienced both of these sensations, but one boss encounter that year rendered me utterly speechless.
Tenchu: Stealth Assassins didn’t invent the concept of “stealth” in a video game but it innovated the mechanics and established it as a legitimate mechanic and not a gimmick. The feudal setting, spooky underworld sub plot and arguably the best soundtrack of the ’90s made it an incredible experience. If the game has anything that lets it down, it’s probably the combat, which can be frustrating at times. Yes, the main point of the game is to avoid confrontation and to dispatch your enemies without anyone seeing you. Should you get spotted the best option is to drop a smoke bomb and grapple hook your way to safety. This however is hampered by the boss battles where you have no choice but to engage in a duel. They also can’t be avoided and some levels feature more than one. These battles aren’t impossible. You can still use all the bombs, traps and shuriken you have remaining, but when there is no flee option, they can be quite irritating. The game controls are specifically designed to avoid direct combat and are not made for fighting.
Despite this, I still loved the game and by the time I got to mission five “Execute the Corrupt Minister” I was ready for whatever this magnificent game threw at me. Sneaking around the snowy rooftops and slashing guards throats in a beautiful garden estate fulfilled all my ninja needs. Then came the boss. I knew what to expect and, with a sigh, I approached him. Before each boss battle the hero (either the veteran shinobi Rikimaru or the brash kunoichi Ayame) has a brief conversation with the villain before they do battle. I watched Rikimaru tell the evil Minister Kataoka that he has brought great shame upon himself. Kataoka boasts that he never expected anyone to catch him. Then something amazing happened.
Rikimaru tells Kataoka that the only way he can redeem himself is to commit seppuku, a ritual suicide commonplace in feudal Japan. Kataoka takes two steps forward and takes out his short sword. Okay, here we go. He’s gonna throw that knife at me and then the battle will begin. That’s what I thought. Imagine my amazement when the boss does not fight and actually goes through with the suicide. All my life I had been led to believe that end of level boss will try to kill the hero. That’s how it always had been. My world was turned upside down when I saw Minister Kataoka slide the blade into his stomach and blood spurt out. Rikimaru ends his suffering quickly by rushing up and decapitating him, also a tradition in that era. The villain now has his honour restored and the level ends.
I was stunned but my eyes were opened. This was what the Fifth Generation of console gaming was all about. Rejecting the standard boss battle in favour of a more realistic and dramatic climax, Tenchu: Stealth Assassins proved that having the balls to tell a good story was not just for PC games anymore, even if it meant eschewing the action game formula. When the topic of favourite boss battles comes up, I always pick this one as my favourite. By having no battle at all it manages to deliver the same tension, excitement, amazement and exhilaration. Hands down the best part of the game and a definite highlight of the Playstation era.
