I started this game on Thursday. By the middle of Sunday I had hit the end credits with a moon count of 437, nearly all purple coins up to that point (missing a total of 15 over all the worlds up to the credits), 45/52 captures, 27 costumes (including one from Amiibo, the classic colours you get off 8-bit Mario), and over 500 screenshots in my album.
As a 3D Mario completionist in every game since Galaxy, I know from experience that it's completely pointless to talk about difficulty until I've seen it all. So I won't, and I'll save my remarks on some of the platforming design until that point. I've been playing so much of this game (and am so eager to dive right back in; after poking around with some of the postgame I was already at 557 moons by the end of Sunday) that I may still need time to properly digest it.
A few initial thoughts, broken up by pretty pictures so your eyes don't glaze over the wall of text:
Snapshot Mode made this game. I can't say for sure, but I'd estimate that a third of the time I sank into Odyssey was spent as a field photographer, just setting up actions and angles, seeing what kind of animations I could get out of Mario, stepping through a few climactic sequences (nearly) frame-by-frame by double-tapping the screenshot button to advance, and making the most use I could of temporary backdrops/world-states I expected would soon go away. The way I played it, Odyssey was a photography game that happened to have platforming in it. (It was enough to drive me to
start a Tumblr page as a repository for my Mariotography. Be advised that spoilers will
not be marked.)
Difficulty pacing is the best in the series. I had become accustomed to the norm that in the Mario series, Nintendo wants the end credits to be within the reach of children (leading to some extremes like Captain Toad rolling the credits after the first chapter, which was essentially a tutorial world) and that the real game comes after. In the past this wasn't just true of the forward-moving stage-based games (Galaxy 2/3DL/3DW were all very end-loaded) but also the hub-based ones where you could fight Bowser at a fairly low star count, yet the best content was locked behind a high star count. For a veteran player, the interesting content opens up much sooner in Odyssey: complete the first multi-moon and you already have access to challenges that feel like intermediate post-credit content.
This is something that
should be a boon of the open format, but which I don't think was ever really executed until Odyssey, and I think much of it comes down to how each of the worlds has very few discrete world-states gated off by multi-moons or game completion. For comparison, if you look at a game like Sunshine, practically every Shine in that game has its own world-state, belying its purported openness: you can run around the play spaces at your leisure, yes, but you are locked to a small handful of things to do by where you are on the progression path. Like BotW, Odyssey is a game that claims to be open and means what it says: the first multi-moons in each world are really just introductory sequences, and after that you get to play. And the pattern of placing an advanced objective in every challenge room, taking after 3DL/3DW's coins and green stars, is inspired: once you notice that it
is a pattern it gives you a reason to keep your eyes peeled.
This is HD Rumble's finest hour. I've been on board with HD Rumble since the beginning, from the roar of the engine in MK8D to the plop of falling pieces in Puyo Puyo Tetris to the countless positional effects in Splatoon 2. But after playing with the Switch for a while, one becomes acclimatized to the way that the rumble effects, impressive as they are, are really just a tactile analogue for the sound design (which reflects how they are internally represented in data: as sound files), acting like a palpable equivalent to the secondary speaker on the Wiimote. But Odyssey, conceived from the ground up as a showcase for the system features of the Switch (up to and including the screenshot button), delivers on the originally advertised promise of using the rumble to represent
contact with surfaces—the floors, the walls, the sand, the water. Here it all serves to highlight just how much of the essence of Mario is all in the satisfaction of colliding with surfaces: treading, slipping, wading, slamming. And it isn't just a decorative frill on the gameplay, as it amplifies valuable information about impediments on your speed or the firmness of your traction.
The Joy-Con sticks aren't quite up to scratch. This is the first game I've had to say this about: split Joy-Cons are my favourite control scheme of all time but the tightness of the analogue sticks was a problem. Up to what I've seen thus far in the postgame, nothing in the platforming side of the game is at all out of reach as a matter of execution. Special challenges that required quick-yet-subtle stick movement were a different story.
I'll put it into perspective: in terms of both time spent and number of attempts, the hardest thing for me to get done
by far was hitting 100 in beach volleyball; and the second and third hardest things to get done involved speed boosts (rocket flower and Jaxi challenge rooms). In short, snap-aiming and steering. Yes, I may have come in with a bit of PTSD from the boost-pad segment near the end of 3DW's Champion's Road, but the problem there wasn't steering; whereas in Odyssey, on the Joy-Cons, it was repeatedly a pain to make snappy directional adjustments without jamming the stick all the way. I have seen many, many unintended right-angle turns with the rocket flower. Volleyball, meanwhile, was a consistency check: it's not hard to figure out exactly what to do, but making sudden adjustments (if the ball sails over your head and you need to switch directions to compensate, for instance) while fighting the subtle movement resistance in the sand was a recipe for trouble. I played the whole game with split Joy-Cons but put them in the grip just to get through volleyball, and for the first time I wished I had a Pro Controller.
Odyssey is the best Kirby game. Think about it. Suits have been a core element of Mario's identity since the beginning (and the lack of them in 64/Sunshine was why they always felt a little distant from what I got out of Mario), and there is considerable precedent for many of the individual pieces here in the Galaxy/3DW line: the frog is essentially Galaxy's spring (much like how the Bee Suit in Galaxy was a refinement of the FLUDD), and 3DW had its own take on the Goomba suit. But by making enemy captures a system-wide mechanic, Odyssey is free to throw one idea after another at you, use its enemy set to give every world two or three area-defining mechanics, and top it off with one-off set pieces that put this game up there with The Wonderful 101 as a vehicle for delivering Crowning Moments of Awesome one after another. And it does this all without worrying about the player catching on or having to hold your hand, as you know the score: tag something without a hat, read the UI prompt, play around with it yourself. Which leads me to the next observation...
Your path through the world is a platforming stage. The curious thing is that in spite of the open, explorable spaces, every idea in this game felt properly introduced and developed as it would be in the "teaching" structure that is central to Mario level design in both 2D and 3D—introduce, test, elaborate, twist. Whenever the game gives you a new toy to play with, a few stage elements are never very far: a required barrier to get through (usually in the introductory sequences up to the first multi-moon, several of which have about the same linearity as Galaxy 1's more open spaces that are still all about getting from A to B); visible objectives (moons, purple coins, question blocks, suspicious locations) to grab your attention and make you wonder how your new toy has expanded your range of movement; tantalizing spots that are
just out of reach and require you to combine your new toy with other elements in your game knowledge or skill set. The world is set up for you to learn as you play, and as you figure out how to do one thing, it jogs your memory for the other spots where it might work.
One more jump. This is a compulsively playable, unputdownable game that vacuums up time like nothing else in its genre. I'd sit down to mop up a handful of moons, play for a bit, and wonder why my eyes were so tired—five hours later. It didn't help that I played this over the weekend NA came off daylight savings, and honestly could not tell if my clocks had properly auto-adjusted by pinging a time server on the Internet until I did a very thorough check afterwards to confirm that yes, I really did play that extra hour. I only ever get this out of 4X strategy or building/simulation games, and in a roundabout way, Odyssey put me in the mind of Civilization's notorious "one more turn" effect, where you constantly amass cascading subgoals, and as one completes, the next one is just barely out of reach so you might as well get it done while your mind is still on the game. Odyssey has so many distinct objectives, so many of them opened up by practicing and mastering specific skills (or by wandering and observing, as in BotW) that everything you do inches you that much closer to the next thing you want to do, improving your skill set along the way.
I'll say more when I'm ready. For all the wonder and spectacle, I suspect a great deal of Odyssey's capacity to amaze comes down to its boundless aesthetic variation and promise of constant creative/mechanical surprise just around the corner, and I have a nagging sense that nothing I've seen so far as a moment-to-moment challenge in the thick of the action has stacked up to the highest highs of Galaxy/3DW. But it seems much too early for me to make a claim like that when I haven't finished the climb to 100%, and it's a credit to Odyssey that it's so completely polished as to be devoid of any real lows. Everyone will have a bone to pick with one or two of the non-platforming mini-games that test a totally different skill set than everything else, but thinking of the ones I've had a spot of difficulty with, none of them really come off to me as poorly conceived.