(Originally published to Glitchwave on 9/30/2022)
[Image from igdb.com]
Chibi-Robo!
Developer: skip Ltd.
Publisher: Nintendo
Genre(s): Action-Adventure
Platforms: GCN
Release Date: June 23, 2005
Chibi-Robo’s presence on the front cover of issue 201 of Nintendo Power was fairly minimal. The titular hero and his assistant Telly Vision were present on the cover, but at unflattering, unimportant angles on a stark black background. The prime focus of the cover was the words “Gonzo Gaming!” an ambiguous buzz term fitting for something from a 1950’s billboard advertisement. While Chibi-Robo was offered a prestigious role as the front cover feature of Nintendo’s prime publication, the cover’s lack of pizzazz might have subtly suggested that the game was nothing extraordinary and there were no other games to display that month. However, the insignificantly-sized blurb at the bottom of the obnoxious title showed that those at Nintendo Power knew the extent of Chibi-Robo’s genius. It stated that Chibi-Robo was Nintendo’s “domestic hero” and that he was “leading a revolution in radical game design.” Although that “revolution” never quite came to fruition, Chibi-Robo proved incredibly innovative. If games like Earthbound domesticated the JRPG genre, then the domesticity that Nintendo Power was alluding to with Chibi-Robo was the shifting of tropes from the 3D platformer and the action-adventure genres into something more habitual.
Chibi, the pocket-sized robot of the title’s namesake, is introduced to the Sanderson family during the daughter Jenny’s eighth birthday celebration. Her father has pulled a Homer Simpson and has purchased Chibi as a birthday present, knowing full well that he is the one interested in microscopic mechanical marvels instead of his daughter. Chibi and his even dinkier, fluttering manager Telly Vision introduce themselves cordially and display Chibi’s potential by picking up a flower in a vase and handing it over to Jenny. Despite both the outstanding display of Chibi’s capabilities and the kind gesture, Mrs. Sanderson is still appalled at her husband’s selfishness, and reasonably so. It also doesn’t help matters that Chibi-Robo was an expensive purchase, digging the hole of debt the Sandersons are in a bit deeper. What was expected to be Chibi’s warm, hearty welcome to the Sanderson household is instead met with an embittered Mrs. Sanderson giving her husband the cold shoulder for the duration of the game. Because of the unceremonious circumstances, Chibi now has to prove his worth to the Sandersons, both economically and personally.
So how does Chibi make himself useful to the Sandersons? By making them happy, of course. Chibi-Robo’s main objective is to accumulate “happy points,” a currency earned by performing various good-natured household tasks. Common tasks that net Chibi-Robo happy points usually involve cleaning, scrubbing stains with an old toothbrush, and disposing of garbage such as wrappers, soda cans, etc. The Sandersons and their dog Tao are evidently taking advantage of Chibi’s services because the house gets mucked up with the same amount of filth and detritus each night. As irritating as the family’s audacity to compromise your hard work is, at least it offers a consistent opportunity to rake in a small number of happy points. Completing more roundabout tasks for progressing the main story and side quests will earn Chibi a more inordinate amount of happy points, ranging from single digits like cleaning to profound happiness in the hundreds. Funny enough, the player cannot perform acts that will deduct happy points, which could potentially be a hilarious litany of mischievous deeds. A flexible morality compass would’ve been too complex for a game like Chibi-Robo, although it would’ve been interesting, to say the least. At the end of the day, Chibi-Robo retreats back into his crockpot-shaped house in the living room, and Telly Vision adds up his cumulative total. Chibi’s goal in collecting happy points is to eventually become the number 1 Chibi model in the world, which is cataloged in a Chibi leaderboard based on the total number of happy points they’ve earned. Considering that Chibi ranks up in the hundreds of thousands above several others with a measly happy point total at the start, many other Chibis are total duds, so the competition isn’t stiff. Chibi also earns “moolah,” a more well-defined financial currency that is given alongside happy points and can also be found around the house. Other people’s happiness is all fine and dandy, but Chibi ostensibly isn’t the Sanderson family’s indentured servant and needs to be compensated for his hard work. Do the Chibis have their own union? With the combination of the two abstract and the concrete currencies, Chibi-Robo offers more than enough incentive to do menial labor.
“Why would anyone want to play a game where all you do is clean?” was a frequent decry from some gaming journalism outlets (not Nintendo Power) on Chibi-Robo. This rhetorical question is a gross oversimplification from someone who saw this game on a superficial level. Still, I’d be lying if I said cleaning wasn’t a large aspect of Chibi-Robo. What was Nintendo’s fascination with centering games around cleaning in the Gamecube era (Animal Crossing, Super Mario Sunshine, etc.)? The dissenting critics weren’t entirely wrong about the content, but they failed to recognize the scope of the objective. The entirety of Chibi-Robo’s map takes place in the confines of the Sanderson home, and it’s not as restrictive or bottled as it may seem. Keep in mind that Chibi is roughly the size of someone’s hand, so the Sanderson’s home seems like a sprawling playground in his perspective. Common household objects like lamps, chairs, and stairs are herculean hikes for someone of Chibi’s stature. While Chibi’s main prerogative is to clean, the lengths he has to traverse are grand enough to match Link’s climb up Death Mountain. The heights in the rooms that a normal human could reach with their arms are daunting for little Chibi, making them daunting for the player by proxy. Using the Chibi ladder tool as assistance in ascending the staircase in the foyer to access the upstairs portion of the house felt as gratifying as getting to the destination point of any other adventurous trek. The Sanderson’s home is not mapped out extraordinarily. It’s a two-bedroom home with typical rooms like the living room, kitchen, basement, and a fenced-in backyard. The Japanese developers evidently were inspired by the Brady Bunch when mapping out the home because the Sandersons do not have a bathroom. Did they figure there wouldn’t be enough happy points or moolah in the world for Chibi to clean up the Sanderson's bathroom, considering the amount of mess they leave everywhere else? Yeesh. However, the scope of Chibi-Robo’s world makes the mundane setting of a two-story home into something extraordinary.
Chibi must make sure not to exert himself too much while making people happy, or else he’ll literally collapse. The caveat to adventuring around the Sanderson’s home is that the player must always keep cautious of Chibi’s battery in the bottom right corner of the screen. The consistent movement will cause a steady depletion, and standing motionless will still drain the battery, albeit at a snail’s pace. Fall damage is the most harrowing threat to Chibi’s life force. Depending on how high Chibi has dropped, the battery will plummet into multiples of a hundred. Because of this, it’s wise to always use Chibi’s copter mod when scaling high places, so he floats down gracefully, only using a small fraction of energy. If Chibi’s battery reaches zero, he’ll pass out, and Telly will escort him back to the Chibi house, losing a bit of moolah. Fortunately, multiple outlets are situated in every room (except the backyard) of the Sanderson household for Chibi to completely replenish his energy and for the player to save the game. Some may see Chibi’s finite battery as an irritating burden, but I think it helps elevate the scope of the adventure. The adventure wouldn't feel as imposing if Chibi could climb around without concerns. Plus, the reward for ascending the Chibi ranks increases Chibi’s battery power by a few multiples of ten, which scales wonderfully with the expanded range of the house Chibi can explore. Chibi’s battery life keeps players on their toes and makes them consider their actions more carefully.
Chibi needs to recharge periodically because the Sandersons have him working around the clock. The days in Chibi-Robo are divided in half by two day and night cycles. These cycles start at a mere five minutes, but the brief period is fitting for Chibi’s minuscule battery power at the beginning of the game. Soon enough, the player can extend the cycles to ten or fifteen minutes. I recommend keeping the clock on fifteen because, after a certain point, the number of quests will stack up, keeping you busier than anticipated. The player should also give themselves enough time in either cycle because both offer different opportunities. During the day, the Sanderson family (including the dog, Tao) are up and about, and the house feels zestful and bright. Dusk engulfs the residence at night with a moody shade of blue, creating a calm atmosphere. The night is also when Chibi-Robo’s Toy Story influence is more apparent as the Sanderson’s toys spring to life as they galavant about the house. Some toys will act lively during the day, but only in sections where none of the family is around. The lack of human presence at night allows each toy to command its domain. I love games whose progression feels free-flowing and gives the illusion of total freedom. After unlocking the entire house in Chibi-Robo, I can fill his schedule with whatever I please. The fifteen minutes may not seem enough time, but the limit makes the player act on their feet. While I cherish the free-form progression, I wish it was a little more organized. A Bombers Notebook from Majora’s Mask would’ve helped track the available days for each character because their interactivity is not as simple as thinking that humans are only available during the day and the toys at night. For example, The Great Peekoe, the money-grubbing scam peddler, is all over the map. He normally resides in the basement but will sometimes be in the kitchen and in the backyard. I would never interact with him except that he possesses an item needed for another character’s quest, and showing interest in buying this item to him on the backyard swing is only there at a very specific time. The soldiers can’t train at night in the foyer sometimes, and Sunshine is often with Jenny at all times of the day. A Persona-like schedule in a menu would’ve cleared things up, but perhaps that would’ve been too complex. Still, it’s disheartening taking precious time to meet a character and find that they aren’t available.
Even if the premise and content of Chibi-Robo don’t suit your fancy, one can’t deny the beaming charm the game has. Chibi is an adorable protagonist, and the Sanderson household's microcosmic world is just as endearing, albeit a bit gaudy. Chibi-Robo is a game whose aesthetic exudes a cutesy, childish vibrancy. The look of the characters, environments and the overall atmosphere is pleasing, like the general innocence of something catered towards children. Something unexpected from Chibi-Robo, but nevertheless just as vital that supports this peppy tone, is that the game is quite sonorous. Musical cues resonate from seemingly every pore of Chibi-Robo. For example, many of Chibi’s gadgets, like the toothbrush, will create a pleasant acoustic guitar track whose length coincides with the rate of continual motion Chibi makes while cleaning. It’s just too bad that it depletes so much of his energy. The broken piano jingle that plays when Chibi attempts to dig at a solid patch of ground is so alluring that it attracts a strange creature called Mr. Prongs to the living room. Each one of Chibi’s footsteps is heard like Spongebob’s, and picking up his chord and carrying it over his head will speed up Chibi’s movement, and the background track will move faster as well. Many characters have their own theme that plays when Chibi interacts with them, and the stylistic gibberish they all speak in sounds more natural than in any other game that uses this method of dialogue. I’ve never seen a game use music like Chibi-Robo does, and it’s used brilliantly.
Another element of Chibi-Robo that elevates its charisma is its extensive cast of characters. Chibi’s design is wonderful, but he is yet another silent avatar protagonist in gaming. Despite his kind nature and darling wardrobe of costumes (the pajamas being the most precious), his uninvolved “yes” or “no” signs of communication make him like a non-threatening version of Hector Salamanca. Telly usually does most of the talking for Chibi, and he serves as a straight-man spectator to all the oddities in the house with a jittery, timid disposition. The game's lifeblood is the supporting characters, namely the family and the toys. With the family, my impression is that the developers watched a smattering of 20th-century sitcoms to craft their interpretation of the typical American nuclear family rings louder. Mr. Sanderson is a chubby, oafish slob like many sitcom dads who lazily sits around the house due to being unemployed. He’s a stilted manchild who performs a Super Saiyan stance when he gets excited. His wife is the spitting image of the naggy, frustrated housewife who looks like a 1960s pin-up model. At first, she has contempt for Chibi because of how expensive his purchase was but grows to like Chibi as he works around the house. They even have tea time together as Mrs. Sanderson subtly flirts with Chibi, to everyone's discomfort. How many happy points Chibi would get if she used him as a vibrator is uncertain, but I bet he’d be off the charts in the Chibi rankings. Their daughter Jenny’s quirk is that she wears a frog hat and only talks in ribbits with some words mixed in. She is mostly seen drawing in the living room. Tao, the family dog, is the most hostile towards Chibi and is mostly the subject of one particular side quest.
The family unit is all interesting in its own right, but the real stars of Chibi-Robo are the toys. Some toys will mark their territory and never leave their spots, while others travel around the bounds of the house in several different places. Drake Redcrest, an intergalactic space warrior who totally isn’t Buzz Lightyear, stomps around the living room on his patrol for justice with the same mix of righteousness and lack of self-awareness as the Pixar character who serves as his clear inspiration. Sophie is lurking around the close vicinity of Drake, who moonlights as a hopeless romantic for Drake after being Tao’s chew toy all day. The hard-boiled Sarge and his army of egglings use the spacious foyer for combat training while the gruff, wooden pirate Plankbeard traipses around the basement drinking rum. The master bedroom is the dance stage for Funky Phil, who is Disco Stu as a toy flower with kinetic arms. As Phil dances the night away, his not-so-secret admirer: the rootin'-tootin', frog-chewin’ Dinah, watches him from across the room in awe. Jenny’s room is the realm of the maudlin Mort, who lays in his coffin under the bed, and the beautiful Princess Pitts, who sits high in her oblique castle. Sunshine, my favorite of the toys, mainly resides here and is why I was interested in buying Chibi-Robo. His Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde-like nature brought upon by his debilitating addiction to nectar makes him violent and unpredictable like a fuzzy bowtie-wearing Danny Bonaduce.
The main trajectory of the story will only include some of these toys on occasion, so I implore anyone who hasn’t played Chibi-Robo to invest time and effort in each character’s side quest. Not only will completing them earn Chibi a whopping amount of happy points, but the side quests are some of the best content the game offers. Once Chibi impresses the egg soldiers by bypassing their line of fire on his way to the basement, they enlist him on a mission to kill the family dog to recover a soldier who was abducted by Tao. Plankbeard is confined to the dank grounds of the basement, and Chibi must recover his lost ship along with a fresh pirate crew so he can plunder for booty once more. Sophie drops the poetic love letters meant for her crush, Drake Redcrest, but coyly uses Chibi as a medium for communication between them even though she’s only a few feet from him at all times. Dinah goes above and beyond for Funky Phil as his biggest fan, aiding his offspring in desperate times. The standout sidequest is helping Mort with his seemingly futile affections for the beautiful Princess Pitts The climatic point of this sidequest when Sunshine is having an “episode” and Mort “defeats” him after socking Drake Redcreast in the mouth is my favorite moment in the entire game. As for the Sunshine sidequest, the resolution to it is so outrageous that I dare not spoil it. For a bunch of inanimate objects, these toys are more lively than most NPCs in gaming. Interacting with these characters made me feel invested in their troubles, unexpectedly empathizing with them. Most of the tasks Chibi must do run the gamut of fetch quests, but the superb writing of the characters and their stories makes up for the tedium.
The sidequests expose a surprising level of depth Chibi-Robo has that one would not expect. While Chibi-Robo’s presentation and characters are zany, the game is not afraid to shine a light on some weighty themes beneath its light-heartedness. Chibi-Robo is the story of a dysfunctional family at their breaking point, and Chibi has been unfairly tasked with mending the foundation before it cracks. In a pivotal moment, Chibi finks on Mr. Sanderson by showing his wife a receipt for yet another expensive toy. In frustration, she locks herself in her bedroom away from her family and decides that this instance is her boiling point. She writes the family a letter expressing her desire for a divorce, which lights a fire under Mr. Sanderson’s ass as he starts to pitch in with housework. Mr. Sanderson obviously didn’t consider signing his prenuptial. The character we empathize with most is Jenny, for the aura of dysfunction caused by her bickering parents has had a damning psychological effect on her. She is seen in the foyer on some nights, either crying or looking distraught. Her regression with the frog head is most likely due to severe psychological problems, inability to cope with what is happening around her, and retreating to a realm of escapism. She only expresses her true feelings about the situation by communicating through Sunshine or when Chibi is wearing the frog suit.
The other aspect of the main story also delves into the aura of gloominess surrounding the Sanderson house. During Chibi’s first visit to the basement, he finds a conspicuous giant robot lying motionless in the corner. By plugging his cord into the robot’s outlet, he inherits the memories of the robot’s history with the Sandersons and the toys. With some exposition from Plankbeard, we learn that this metallic hunk-of-junk is Giga Robo, a hulking prototype of Chibi that used to be a companion of the Sandersons. He also brought the toys to life as a wish he was granted by aliens he saved from a fatal collision to Earth. Eventually, the Sanderson’s unpaid bills became too staggering, and they had to stop financially supporting Giga Robo’s battery, leaving him as a husk to rot in their basement. Chibi’s main goal in the story is to revive Giga Robo, using moolah to charge his battery and find his missing leg. Chibi focuses on replenishing Giga Robo’s life force because he’s emblematic of the Sanderson’s happiness. They were happy when he was present in their lives, and their financial problems were relatively stable. He’s a symbol of the candy-coated past full of opportunity and prosperity, juxtaposed with the malaise of the present that Chibi is only familiar with.
In real life, Giga Robo’s absence would be a lesson in the absolute nature of grief and the process of coping with loss. However, Chibi-Robo is a video game, and extraordinary things happen in them, but not without complications. The extent of Chibi’s formidable mission has him using the alien’s time-traveling technology to retrieve the code to a case where Giga Robo’s leg is locked up. Up until now, the Spydorz enemies that have been sporadically showing up to antagonize Chibi Robo have been a piddly excuse for Chibi to use his blaster. As insignificant as they may seem, these little bastards enact a full-scale invasion of the house by using the case as a Trojan Horse. In this distressing event, the entire family bands together with Chibi and Mr. Sanderson, proving he’s not some dumb schmuck. He reveals that he wasn’t laid off from his job of programming the spydorz but quit out of passion when his company decided to make them turn on the Chibis. With a new schematic, Mr. Sanderson does some impressive metalwork to improve Chibi’s blaster to defeat the spydorz and their queen. The queen boss fight feels rather awkward, but the resolution where the family unit is restored is greatly satisfying. This climax, along with Giga Robo walking up the stairs, to everyone’s surprise, ends the story of Chibi-Robo beautifully. Chibi ascends to the apex of the rankings and becomes “Super Chibi Robo,” and all it took was repairing a tattered marriage by bending time and space. The aliens grant Chibi and Giga Robo an infinite battery that never declines, which the player can use indefinitely. However, I believe this sweet conclusion should’ve been the last moment of the game. For some reason, some of the side quests can’t be finished until Giga Robo is revived, which sullies the impact of the ending. That, and using Chibi with reckless abandon now that he’s immortal compromises too much on what made the gameplay invigorating and makes it mundane.
Chibi-Robo is more than meets the eye. The kooky nature of the game’s presentation was enough to sucker me into buying it after its splendor was displayed in an issue of Nintendo Power when I was a kid, and its offbeat nature fulfilled my initial expectations. However, one can’t truly know the extent of Chibi-Robo unless they probe deeper into its hidden level of substance that lies beneath its eccentricities. A game lambasted for simulating menial labor was merely a surface-level critique that failed to capture how it was a pertinent mechanic in reinventing the tropes in the 3D platformer and action-adventure genres. The characters that coexist with one another in this domicile are outlandish, yet they are more fleshed-out and sympathetic than most human characters in gaming. Some critics even claim that the dour themes presented in Chibi-Robo are too jarring for something so cute and inviting. Still, I argue that it’s impressive that the developers combined the quirkiness and the sombreness of the game without it feeling asymmetrical. Chibi-Robo is a unique, impressive experience, and I thank Nintendo Power for introducing me to this criminally underrated game.
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