Visions of Mana review

Visions of Mana is the cutest game to do just about everything I love in an RPG. When I approached a giant monkey boss with floppy rabbit ears and a massive club, I thought about how I'd hug the goofy-looking thing if it was a plush toy. Unfortunately his club was not as cuddly as the rest of him: I slipped up and died in a single hit, a little too cocky that I'd be able to read his telegraphed wind-ups and the bright red AoE markers littering the ground before attacks. Visions of Mana may be cute, but playing on hard it has enough bite to knock my ego down several pegs.

Were this strictly an action game, I'm sure I would throw myself up against that monkey-bunny boss until I memorized his attacks and managed to squeak through without taking a hit. But Visions of Mana is an RPG, and a damn good one at that. After reassessing my squad of fairy tale heroes and the many character classes they could equip, I tried a different strategy. Val, the generically energetic protagonist that he is, had mostly led my party as a damage-dealer with his greatsword. Yet if I changed him into a tank class I could assign his battle AI to focus on survival while he drew the boss's attacks. Even if my entire party got caught in a grand slam swing, a high-defense character could endure the damage and revive my weaker companions afterwards. Meanwhile, the dagger-wielding Morley wasn't as strong as Val, but if I equipped him with items that increased his critical hit damage, he might make up the difference.

These were the kinds of decisions that led me to victory throughout Visions of Mana, from its opening hours all the way into its postgame. It's not that these RPG systems are especially deep; I could explain all the skills in the first tier of Morley's Nightblade class on a post-it note. But Visions of Mana strategically drip feeds new characters class options throughout the entirety of its run, and that kept changing how I looked at my team. When Careena unlocked her Divine Fist class, which swaps out her magical fans for fiery fists of fury, my jaw dropped at the immense burst damage she was now capable of. I'd counted on her to handle all my buffs and debuffs, but I wanted that damage, and suddenly had to retool my whole team to fulfill her old role.

I may have spent the entire game overthinking my team building, but I crave that "aha moment" in RPGs where I fit all the pieces together and turn my party into a beautiful death machine. I got that moment again and again in Visions of Mana—I loved adapting to every party combination I tried, even when I ended up quickly moving on to try a new one.

What a wonderful world

Visions of Mana is bubblegum fantasy, bright but instantly familiar. Val is a "Soul Guard" who has to protect his charge, a member of a group called the "Alms." They're on a pilgrimage to the Mana tree, where human sacrifices have to be made every four years to save the world from destruction. The sacrificial Alm is, of course, Val's girlfriend Hinna. What could be a melancholy or emotionally complex adventure is never treated with the nuance it needs to be either. The prologue cloyingly tugs at the heartstrings, and then most of the cast spend the first chunk of the game completely ignoring the gravity of the sacrifice. This dynamic is eventually explained, but even with context I rarely felt like the protagonists' motivations connected with how I'd feel in their shoes. When the game does dive deeper into this conflict, some of the biggest dramatic moments lose their punch due to awkward dialogue and clumsy character animations that veer into the uncanny valley. 

Visions of Mana is stronger when it focuses on interpreting the 2D exploration of the older games with wide open fields and classical dungeons. Whenever I arrived at an open field I stopped playing the game like an RPG and approached it like a late '90s collect-a-thon. There are so many treasure chests and collectibles to look for that I still found new pickups whenever I revisited old areas. Many treasures required abilities to reach that I didn't have yet, which often paid off with enjoyable minigames once I came back to them. One standout threw me into on-rails flying sections using the elemental Salamander, letting me grab errant currency as I zipped along to a new destination.

These excuses to backtrack gave me more time to soak in the visual splendor of the environments, which translates the bright and colorful aesthetic of Visions of Mana's' 1993 predecessor Secret of Mana into full 3D environments. From farmlands covered with blue and purple crops to red canyons dotted with ancient ruins atop precariously stacked rocks, the world feels vast despite its relatively small size. Monsters are similarly filled with personality thanks to their unique designs and animations. One enemy, the Mad Mallard, is dressed in an huge green army hat and carrying an oversized ball and chain. It sounds strange when I type it out, but in practice the enemy designs are like someone's paintings of the wildest dreams I had as a kid.

The linear dungeons are a joy despite being firmly set in the Old Ways. Groups of enemies are more prolific here, but Visions of Mana incorporates simple puzzles throughout these areas to break up the action. I reflected light off of mirrors to illuminate statues that unlocked new areas, and rose and lowered water levels so I could swim to ledges I couldn't reach by double jumping.

There's nothing especially innovative here, and I solved each puzzle so fast that I'd sooner call them "brain ticklers" than "brain teasers." Yet the variety of gimmicks kept me engaged—dungeons rarely recycled ideas from one area to the next.

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 Visions of Mana rarely lets any of its ideas overstay their welcome. It knows just when to introduce a new overworld area or an elaborate story sequence to avoid falling back on a formulaic structure. Even the combat system, which lacks the deep combos and precise dodging mechanics of other action games, feels consistently exciting because of how it's integrated into the adventure. Most common enemies are skippable, sidequests could be saved for whenever I wanted to grind, and boss monsters feel grand thanks to the sweeping orchestral music and the elaborate battle animations. Attacks feel impactful when they knock monsters back, and critical hits make a satisfying "shwing!" sound that activates the happiness chemicals in my brain.

The limitations on the action didn't feel shortcomings—they were reasons for me to engage with all the game's systems to find solutions to any obstacle I faced.

Like a warm cup of cocoa on a snowy day

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It's a shame Visions of Mana's overarching story is so poorly written, because the final chapters that focus on the central cast's personal story arcs really resonated with me. My heart went out for characters like Morley, a swordsman who struggles to reconcile the loss of his kingdom that was destroyed when he was a child. Visions of Mana asks questions about how we confront grief and sacrifice our own happiness for a greater good, but it could have dug so much deeper into those themes. The cast of anthropomorphic teenagers points towards a story presumably intended for a younger audience, but even by that standard the potential of its premise goes largely unrealized.

Aside from the writing, I could nitpick smaller details: Characters sometimes wouldn't follow through on commands if I issued them while they were animation locked. The fast travel and sidequest systems are kind of cumbersome. I wished I could chain attacks together a little more fluidly. Sidequests themselves are pretty rote, echoing MMO "kill five monsters" and "fetch items" tasks, but they're also largely skippable without missing much of anything.

Those annoyances never made me want to stop playing Visions of Mana. Every lush environment was a treat, and the music is still stuck in my head as I type this. Over the span of 50 hours, which I crammed almost entirely into one week by choice, I never felt any sense of tedium sink in. Maybe it's how elegantly Visions of Mana lays out its core mechanics, or just how well it captures the charming simplicity of '90s RPGs without feeling dated. Either way, I can't think of many roleplaying games that I so consistently enjoyed from start to finish. Nothing in it is groundbreaking, but it's as comfortable—even huggable—as a stuffed monkey. Sans club, of course