(Originally published to Glitchwave on 4/23/2025)
[Image from glitchwave.com]
Killer7
Developer: Grasshopper Manufacture
Publisher: Capcom
Genre(s): Action-Adventure, Rail Shooter
Platforms: GCN, PS2
Release Date: June 9, 2005
Have I ever told you kids about postmodernism? Bring some snacks and buckle up, for the subject is so massively abstruse that I’ll probably stumble every other step when explaining it. Essentially, postmodernism is an artistic and cultural movement that encapsulates the prevailing attitudes of cutting-edge creators in the modern era, dating back to the early 1950s. The aftermath of World War II catalyzed the shift in the contemporary artist’s creative process just as regular ol’ modernism was spurred as a reaction to the First World War. Society simply couldn’t continue living naively in the loving hands of traditionalism after the advent of the atomic bomb or the Panzerfaust, and our art needed to reflect our ever-growing existential anxieties. I learned about the term/movement through a literary lens in college, discussing works like Beckett blue-balling us in Waiting for Godot and all of the jazzy and provocative pieces composed by the Beatniks. Still, postmodernism also encompasses plenty of other artistic media, ranging from the pop art paintings of Andy Warhol or the unconventional design of postmodern architecture. Arthouse films tend not to be explicitly tagged with the “postmodern” label, but one can easily draw parallels to a postmodern ethos to the stream of consciousness etherealism that drives 8 1⁄2, or the meta structure of Synecdoche, New York. Can video games potentially evoke elements of this sophisticated form of expression, especially since the medium is relatively underdeveloped and perceived as pedestrian? Why would anyone reading this even question that for a second? I suppose the most notable game to implement these kinds of postmodern elements is Metal Gear Solid, although Hideo Kojima’s stealth series tends to pull the switch at jarringly inopportune moments. The last minute clusterfuck, narrative grenade in Metal Gear Solid 2 was like eating a delicious banana to then chomp on the bitter, black bruise at its bottom. Unexpectedly tasting something off-kilter and much less digestible at the end is stomach-churning, which is why the end of Raiden’s conspiratorial conquest left an acrid taste in my mouth. However, one game released a little later in the era, Killer7, makes no pretenses to ever mask its postmodern makeup. This entry in the Capcom Five campaign was director Suda 51’s breakout title that catapulted him to international renown. Astonishingly so, for Killer7 is perhaps the epitome of a postmodern video game, with all of its abstract elements on display in their full glory.
I realize this statement is a bit reductive, but postmodernism tends to be quite weird. You can’t craft an ethos based on subverting familiarities and traditions and not befuddle audiences as a result. Killer7, if you caught the correlation, is a more disorienting experience than sitting through a David Lynch film festival high as a kite on acid. Actually, I’ll bet that most gamers will attribute Killer7’s creative process to the lysergic hallucinogen, but I promise that the game isn’t a nonsensical kaleidoscope of random nonsense. Postmodern artists have a defined and diligent method to their madness, even though most of them, admittedly, imbibed enough smack and junk to take a permanent vacation to cloud nine. I can’t comment whether or not Suda 51 has ever indulged in mind-altering substances, but I can at least detect a solid foundation of sincere inspirational beats behind Killer7’s narrative that would prove that he’s not entirely whacked out on goofballs.
Drawing more parallels to Metal Gear Solid again, the narrative backdrop of Killer7 takes place in an alternate timeline of Earth that is conceptually influenced by the current state of world affairs, as well as its future state based on the insight of present-day conditions. Suda 51’s depiction of a 21st-century society is surprisingly an idyllic one, as every nation has declared world peace by firing their nuclear weapons into the sky to have them explode in a frivolous spectacle like “fireworks” for the Earth’s people to marvel at. Another token of the total harmony between all of Earth’s nations is a bridge being erected over the Atlantic Ocean that would connect North America to Europe (but not Africa? Hmmm…), a monumental stride in transportation too far-fetched for our reality from both a technological and a unification standpoint. The state of Earth in Suda 51’s timeline is so halcyon that it verges on being corny, depicting an unreasonable idealism expressed by the most naive “activists” from the hippy era of the 1960s. However, the reason for making the state of affairs so saccharine is to effectively juxtapose it with the grizzly conflict of Killer7. In the wake of everyone lowering their defensive arms to embrace their international brethren, a terrorist known as Kun Lun is unleashing his “Heaven Smile” puppets on executive members of the United Nations by bombing them unexpectedly in close quarters. All the while, the USA and Japan are considering severing ties with one another for each nation’s personal gains, with the contentions between them showing cracks in the congruous amity that the Earth had finally achieved. The only people up to snuff to deal with both the fallout of the USA and Japan and the deadly new crop of politically-charged suicide bombers is the titular assassin syndicate of “Killer7.” Suda 51 might be cynically chiding the practicality of world peace when the game gives context to its narrative, but it’s far too early to pinpoint a working thesis. Believe me, the conspiratorial cavern that is Killer7’s story becomes far more dense, dank, and confusing as the game progresses.
Even if Suda 51 is intending to convey poignant messages of political commentary, they’re all going to get drowned out by the game’s, let's say, eccentric presentation. It bears repeating, but Killer7 is cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. The plot premise that I summarized in the last paragraph isn’t exposited until after the first full mission of the game, and it was likely incorporated so the player’s befuddlement wouldn’t consume the player to the point where they wouldn’t eject the game from the console in a state of total, enveloping brain fog. By the time the player finishes the first mission and receives a crumb of necessary context, they’ve already been exposed to an onslaught of oddities too numerous to quickly detail. I’ll delve into each of those bizarre aspects in their respective fields of context, but for now, I’d like to discuss the general presentational package that contains and supports all of Killer7’s turbulent elements. Because Killer7 is the epitome of expressionism, the last aesthetic tint that Suda 51 would ever strive for is graphical realism. A cartoonish cel-shaded visual style works wonders with Killer7’s pulpy tone, both in the sense of the brand of exploitation fiction it evidently draws conceptual inspiration from and in pronouncing the lurid blood splatter that spills at every waking moment in this game in buckets. During significant cutscenes, the game will adopt an anime style fitting for the native country where the developers reside. Still, incorporating this idiosyncratic Japanese animation style per cutscene would be predictable for a game of this creative caliber. One level, instead, shifts to a more Western-oriented animation style with more synchronized mouth movements for its cutscenes. Dialogue spoken by NPCs on the field sounds like someone swallowed a voice-changing modulator found in the microphone of a toy, making subtitles a requisite in translating the muffled vocal utterances. Starting a level involves shooting a silhouetted version of the level’s primary target, dissipating in a cloud of red particles at the press of a button. When the player dies in combat, the game over screen consists of the character’s head exploding into a bloody splatter painting of a Japanese character. I can’t translate the meaning of this character to an English word, but I’m sure it’s something fittingly blunt or edgy. Little flourishes such as these all comprise the ostentatious flair that marks Killer7’s aesthetic and style. Its myriad of quirks might strike many gamers as off-putting, but I found each element of zaniness greatly amusing throughout.
Naturally, the disorientation that comes with all of Killer7’s stylistic choices also leads to the game exuding a surreal, absurdist tone. For a game with evident political themes, Killer7 consistently verges into the tongue-in-cheek realm of camp (there’s the Metal Gear Solid connection for the umpteenth time). NPCs speak in roundabout riddles when dialogue is prompted on the field, sometimes bleating about personal anecdotes that seem to have zero relevance to the situation at hand. Did I mention that the common NPCs who deliver this dialogue are a gimp making a perpetual shushing motion with his finger and an eyeless man who wears tank tops? The playable characters all have their own distinct, cheesy one-liners they say after critically killing an enemy, and the cult leader, Ulmeyda, looks less like he preaches the gospel and more like he’s on the set of Boogie Nights acting as a stunt cock for Don Cheadle’s character. Still, Killer 7’s favorite form of irreverence dips back into a tenet of postmodernism: pastiche. Specifically, in the vein of pop culture references. The wardrobe of tank tops belonging to the aforementioned eyeless man, Travis, all display single-worded phrases and or niche music genres that change with every encounter. During a tense discussion before a boss fight, the immortal cereal slogan “tricks are for kids” is spoken sincerely as a crafty rebuttal. Carrier pigeons are often found on the field with notes in their talons written to aid the player (as much as the game can possibly allow), and the titles of these notes are all songs by The Smiths. Given that they’re one of my favorite bands, receiving any of these notes from these rats with wings made me embarrassed at the excitement they instilled in me. If a certain foot-fetishizing auteur director is aware of Killer7’s existence, he would probably feel a sense of pride that the pastiche style that skyrocketed him as one of the masters of his profession has been translated to a whole other medium. Still, I don’t think he’d take credit for Suda 51’s vision for Killer7 and demand royalty checks. Pastiche is not something that Tarantino has patented, as it has been used to throw a monkey wrench into the standards of storytelling for ages now. Still, Tarantino should be watchful that another creator uses pastiche with the same caliber of artful tact as he.
But there is genuine relevance to naming the notes after Smiths songs other than tickling the ribs of music nerds such as I. The connection to the band and Killer7 relates to the shared surname of the seven playable members of the Killer7 syndicate, with the ubiquity of the surname serving as a blank, “John Doe” status of these covert assassins. As the number in the syndicate name suggests, there are seven central members of the organization. Technically, in the spirit of Killer7’s abstract fashion, the name is misleading. There are really eight members, but also possibly two or perhaps one agent of death acting solo given that we’ve seen the characters switch from one another in a blink of an eye during many cutscenes. Ultimately, don’t let Killer7’s surreal nature distract from the fact that there are seven playable characters the player switches between on either the kitsch, retro television monitor in the save room or in the pause menu. Similar to most games that offer a selection of characters to pilot, the professional hitmen (and women) of Killer7 are an eclectic cast with diverse character traits and abilities. Dan Smith is a thirty-something white man who approaches the grave complexions of his job with a cocky, brash swagger. Once powered up, his .357 revolver unleashes a blast of energy as staggering as a hadouken. Kaede is the token female member of the group with a scope to aid her shooting, also externalizing her angst by dramatically cutting her wrists and bleeding profusely on specific obstructions to unveil their secrets. Kevin Smith is a shirtless mute who trades the inconvenient condition of reloading that comes with a firearm for a ceaseless pocketful of light shurikens, and turning himself invisible to bypass both lasers and combat altogether. As I’m writing this, I now realize that his name and speechless demeanor are a reference to the recurring character of yet ANOTHER famous film director who also plasters his works in pastiche pop culture references. The homicidal Latino, Coyote Smith, leaps through the air like a grasshopper and picks locks like a cunning thief. Con Smith is referred to as “The Punk” due to his adolescent age and vulgar, immature attitude. His speedy movement isn’t as situationally helpful on the field as the others’ special abilities, but there are times when he can squeeze under tight crevices because his height has not reached its pubescent maximum yet. Luchador “Max de Smith” is an offensive wildcard with his twin grenade launchers, which are also useful for destroying cracked walls. He’s also the most noble and endearing of the bunch, which means he’s the only one in the operation I’d crack open a cold cerveza with amid casual conversation. Topping the ranks is Harman Smith, a wheelchair-bound elderly man who holds the prestigious title as the leader of Killer7. The player will get the chance to wield his gargantuan, shield-shredding rifle in certain scenarios, but he’s mostly relegated to cutscenes where he’s tasting a bit of the S&M from his maid/mistress Samantha. Admittedly, the motley crew of killers the player can shuffle at their fingertips do not have dynamic arcs or characterization that supersedes Duke Nukem-esque one-liners. Still, one can’t deny that as a collective, the seven assassins run the gamut of personalities and abilities with little to no overlap between them. Their stark differences also warrant swapping each of them out so often that the player will become readily acquainted with all of Harman’s children, guaranteeing that the diversity in store will impress on the player equally as it did for me.
The eighth member of Killer7 is really Harman due to his elevated position as the gang’s chief chairman, but the final assassin I’ll be discussing, Garcian Smith, should be discussed separately because of the particular role assigned to him. One might be enticed to storm the field as this African-American man with a piercing gaze and dapper, white suit, but taking the reins as Garcian is not recommended. He expresses his one immortal quip of “don’t make me say it again, I’m a cleaner” enough times to penetrate even the thickest of players’ skulls. Besides, the player should already feel dissuaded from playing as Garcian as casually as the others because he’s the sole member who cannot upgrade his stats. Plus, his piddly little pistol inflicts middling damage and struggles to target enemies’ weak spots. Despite how unprepared he seems for combat, the player will likely spend an inordinate amount of time playing as Garcian anyway. When one of the other assassins is overwhelmed and smote on the field, the following cutscene where their head combusts does not signal a “game over” as one would anticipate. The onus is then on Garcian to find the general vicinity of the other assassin’s death, in which their chunky remains are somehow conveniently prepared in a doggy bag over a conspicuous chalk outline. After pressing a button in succession, the slain assassin is then free to control once again with their health fully restored. The process seems a tad cumbersome, but the player can still choose to let their former character lie dormant as a bag of rotting flesh and simply select another assassin as a substitute. Also, it should be noted that dying as Garcian WILL result in a genuine game over that reverts back to the last point saved instead of the closest of Harman’s rooms, so keep that element of danger in mind when choosing to pursue the route of resurrection. The method that Killer7 implements to stave off the typical penalty of reverting to a checkpoint upon death is unlike anything I’ve ever seen across any other video game, and the fact that it’s an optional venture with its own risky stakes adds a heaping load of depth to the process.
But how often will the player be forced to gamble with Garcian due to a hasty mishap? Well, that depends on how the player fares with the “Heaven Smiles” enemies scattered all across the field. The legion of deranged, toothy terrorists with intrinsic explosive properties is not the focal point of the narrative after the first chapter, but their lack of story relevance doesn’t deter them from infesting the foregrounds of every level afterwards in droves. Combating the Heaven Smiles is where the shooting element of Killer7 comes into play. Regardless of the various weaponry of the seven assassins, the constant objective when faced with one of these creepy, zombie-esque humanoid figures is relatively the same. The player must scan them to unveil their murky camouflage and fire enough ammunition into them before they amble close enough over to the assassin and embrace them with a lethal, self-destructing explosion. The offensive process sounds simple enough, but the caveat is that the player’s range of sight is greatly limited due to a slow spatial movement in the shooting mode and being unable to move the character’s body. A Heaven Smile could easily appear in a blind spot and inflict a smoldering blast to the face, or it could be difficult to locate one in time as well, due to the gun’s trajectory moving a little too patiently. Because the Heaven Smiles can be a chore to spot, the game at least indicates their presence with their mischievous-sounding laughter. If this chuckle then amplifies to their maniacal howl that would intimidate The Joker, it’s a triggering sound that indicates to the player that it’s too late to repel them, and they’ve got a stinging explosion with their name on it. There are also several different breeds of Heaven’s Smiles crowding every corner that come in all shapes and sizes, indicating that their weaknesses all vary. Some Heaven Smiles’ defenses can only be penetrated by a certain assassin’s arsenal, which incentivizes the player to take the risk of playing as Garcian. Because of their ghastliness, extreme violations of one’s personal space, and unpredictability of their numbers and forms, the Heaven Smiles always place the player on pins and needles like effective enemies should. The sinister snickers they emit, followed by the tense possibility of blowing the player to smithereens, almost verge Killer7 into survival horror territory.
Whenever a Heaven’s Smile is directly in the player’s sight, a quicker, more efficient way of dispatching them that is consistently exploitable is targeting a glowing, staticky yellow spot on their bodies. Whether it be on their neck, arms, or legs, finding a Heaven Smiles’ G-Spot and slamming it with a single, steamy bullet will cause the decayed ghoul to evaporate into a cloud of dust. Whether it be the first time executing a Heaven Smile this way or racking up hundreds of critical kills, the satisfaction of reducing one into ash with a single shot never wavers. Besides the gratification of acute shooting proficiency, it’s essential to hone in on a Heaven Smiles’ sensitive area because it coincides with Killer7’s blood mechanic. Killing a Heaven Smile with a barrage of haphazardly-shot bullets will warrant a modest amount of “thick blood” that is then converted into points of experience on the “B” TV channel in Harman’s Room. When the player hits a Heaven Smiles’ vulnerable point, not only does the amount of thick blood double, but the player earns the alternate “thin blood” that can be used to heal the assassins in the pause menu. If the player thinks they can take advantage of this process and farm the marrow of Heaven Smiles to fully upgrade every assassin, the developers have thought ahead of your gaming shrewdness and imposed a limit on the amount of blood one can deposit per level. Tis a shame to waste even a drop of precious blood, but the incentive of collecting the red matter to improve the varied attributes of the assassins needs to remain a factor to keep delivering the reward of progress. Plenty of other games implement a conversion system through gained currency or experience, but Killer7’s portrayal of it is juicy, both figuratively and literally.
I realized when discussing Killer7’s gameplay that I might have inadvertently labeled it as a first-person shooter. Sure, all shooting in Killer7 is conducted in a first-person perspective, but the entirety of the game is not confined to this intimate line of sight. Killer7 best fits the description of a rail shooter like Time Crisis, but that’s only because it’s the closest description it fits that has a defined, tested foundation. Killer7 is something of a “manual rail shooter.” The player is still confined to a single track of progression, but Killer7 grants the player control of the movement and trajectory of the character at all times instead of being accelerated on a single, constant path by holding down a button. Alternate directions will constantly be interjected on every path like speech bubbles in a comic strip, which will still direct the player down a narrow avenue. Questions may be expressed by skeptical gamers relating to if this constrictive method of progression was really necessary when all it does is make the player more vulnerable by hindering their range of movement. When are they going to learn that Killer7’s whole mantra is based on subverting the tropes that have sunk so deeply into gaming standards that they’ve become comfort zones that clench the gaming industry like quicksand? Debate the practicality of Killer7’s on-rail mechanic until the rooster crows: it doesn’t change the fact that the game is planting seeds on unpaved ground that no other game developers have ever dared to tread. To play devil’s advocate for a bit, the only level in Killer7 that conflicts with the restricted range of movement is the Texas level. The vast parameters of the arid, desert suburb allow Heaven Smiles to ambush the player from a wider assortment of angles, and it presents a sharp spike in difficulty that the game never reaches again anytime afterwards.
Warping the foundation of the rail shooter isn’t even the tour de force of Killer7’s gameplay. Beneath the series of tight pathways more serpentine than the NYC transit system, there’s a hearty integration of puzzles and gated progression impediments that draw comparisons to a dungeon from The Legend of Zelda. Or, since parallels have already been drawn to it, a building from a survival horror game, with spooks around every corner to contend with. Naturally, leading the player towards victory by navigating through a series of complex, roundabout routes showcases a delectably layered level design that consistently keeps every chapter invigorating. However, the one issue I have with the game’s puzzle-laden obstacles is that the game has a habit of giving away too much information. It’s acceptable to mark locations of each progression impediment on the map, but also supplying the image of the assassin or the elemental ring needed is far too obvious a hint. The path of acquiring the ring from the mouth of a decapitated head called Susie, whose subtitles consist of emoticons (aka DIY emojis for all non-millennials), proves to be more puzzling than using the rings themselves. There are exceptions that do require a heftier modicum of mental might, but they tend to be few and far between. I realize that with the unorthodox mechanics at play, the developers minded the intensity of brain throttling that the other aspects of the game were undoubtedly already inflicting. Still, giving the player an overt visual hint of what or who to use is downright patronizing.
Fortunately, it’s splendid that the puzzle aspect of Killer7 is not lost in the game’s attempts to hold their hands on the field. In the time spent maneuvering through the winding pathways of each level, the player might forget that the primary objective they’ve been methodically working towards is whacking a guy at the peak of the conspiracy at hand. Through the player’s meticulous scrounging about through each level, they should come across the “soul shells.” These coagulated clots of blood act as keys that access the entry point to a level’s boss, and the gate strongly resembles the vibrancy of a night club (because of course it does). Introducing a new Heaven Smile as a sampler before a boss is enough of a substantial brain teaser, but facing the primary foe afterwards will require a thorough, insightful inspection of their weaknesses. I won’t spoil how to defeat every boss in the game, but I will say that they’re a cakewalk once the player ascertains the method of execution. Still, deciphering the intended tactic with the correct character will prove to be fairly daunting beforehand. The one outlier that was more combat-oriented was Ayame Blackburn, a rival assassin whose viciousness is veiled by a kawaii, bug-eyed anime girl mask.
I suppose that after divulging every gameplay aspect of Killer7 that I should take a crack at analyzing its narrative. Well, fat chance. I’m not being insubordinate simply because Killer7’s story is extremely oblique, and crumbs of narrative context pelt the player every few seconds like the elderly feeding ducks pieces of bread in the park. No, it’s because Killer7 is an unfinished product from a narrative perspective. Suda 51 was forced to cut hours of material in order to release Killer7 at a digestible standard and considering how obtuse it is already, we can be thankful that there were sensible people on staff who objected to some of Suda 51’s wild ambitions. The full extent of Killer7’s story is instead available in book form as “Hand in Killer7,” which I’m sure clears up all confusion neatly. Still, I can only analyze the contents of the game because the book is another art piece altogether. I think I’ve still dug up something of substance in Killer7’s narrative, even with its missing context, but take my analysis with a grain of salt.
A theme I’ve pinpointed regarding Killer7’s story is the weight of murder from the killer’s point of view. The Killer7 syndicate has ended the lives of many at the pull of a trigger, far preceding the Heaven Smile or the main mission targets. In fact, the player becomes well acquainted with some of the syndicate’s former targets, for they follow them around every corner of each level. Yes, the NPCs who speak in riddles with a vocoder lodged in their trachea are all past victims of Killer7’s brutality. The game implies it by expositing Travis’ story, but the game affirms it when Ulmeyda reappears after his vanquishing with a less defined graphical outline, speaking in the same unintelligible voice. Whether the apparitions are benevolent like Iwazaru or vengeful like Curtis Blackburn, the fact of the matter is that every murder the syndicate commits is still externally ingrained on them like a tattoo. This subtle idea becomes all the more interesting when the finale of the story focuses on Garcian, revealing that he’s really a man named Emir Parkreiner who was trained by the Japanese government at a classified “elementary school” to extinguish their enemies. Years later, we learn in a shocking turn of events that Emir/Garcian killed every member of the Killer7 syndicate in a cold-blooded massacre at a hotel. As the game’s rule of murder evidently dictates, he absorbed the personalities of each assassin, making the tattoo metaphor made before all the more applicable. The revelation that the playable characters revolve around Garcian as the ghosts of his crimes is exceedingly interesting, even if there are holes in this reveal because of the game’s abstractions. Relating to the premise that the game has all but been abandoned by its finale, perhaps the underlying sentiment in the world peace proposition that starts the narrative conflict is that no matter how brotherly each nation may become, the stains of blood created by the sins of the past will never truly wash off. I don’t know, how far off base am I?
Pardon my french, but what the fuck did I just play? If Killer7 is to be assessed by its narrative, then Suda 51 is a pretentious egoist who proposes no solution to solving modern international conflicts, especially ones that are apparently between the USA and his homeland of Japan. However, if we narrow our focus on Killer7’s gameplay, then Suda 51 is a goddamn genius. There have been avant-garde narratives, but the label has never fit the mechanics of a video game until Killer7 combined the action-adventure design of a Zelda dungeon with the progression of a rail shooter and deep fried them into an unprecedented surf and turf of genre-bending. Layer the inconceivable fusion of fresh gameplay mechanics with stylistic and impressionistic flairs of postmodernism, and the game emits rays of ingenuity so severe that most gamers will get burned. Personally, I knew I’d at least respect the unbound flourishes of Killer7’s presentation, but the fact that the game was accessible enough to genuinely have a blast playing it is nothing short of a miracle. Game journalists described Killer7 as a totally unique experience back in 2005, but the same tagline having the same impact and relevance is a testament to Suda 51’s brilliance. Hell, I’m almost confident enough to call him a true visionary.
