Continuing my epic Summer of 3D Fighters 2004, I arrive at last at the big one, Sega’s infamous Virtua Fighter 4: Evolution. With its reputation as being the hardest of hardcore fighters, played only by inscrutable unspeaking Japanese types in long black trenchcoats, plus entire internet communities that communicate solely by frame data, tildes and 1/100ths of a second intervals - I’ve never before felt so intimidated by a videogame, literally getting pangs of nervousness the morning of the day I was to start playing it. It is a truly fearsome legacy.

And most people reading this are likely aware of the ‘everybody knows’ points for VF; it’s technical but no fun, it’s nigh-impossible to learn, everybody’s got ten billion moves etc. etc.

But to my surprise, it’s not nearly as frightening, sterile or taxing as one might think. The game’s reputation far exceeds the truth. It isn’t impossible. It isn’t impenetrable. You don’t need nineteen fingers on each hand, fluency in Matrix code or a lineage that dates back to a major religious historical figure to be able to play it. I’m probably violating several of the VF Illuminati’s secret codes here, but it needs to be said — rumours of the game, indeed the series in general being the gaming equivalent of the Easter Island statues have been greatly exaggerated.

Partly this is down to the simple reality of experience and knowledge vs hysteria and hyperbole, but a lot I think has to do with some truly excellent, intelligent work on Sega’s part. It’s like they know of the games’ reputation and have gone out of their way to help ease the virgin player into the warm, moist folds of the Virtua Fighter experience.

My personal VF history is lean and sickly. I played the Saturn VF1 for an hour or so on my rented Saturn, back in the Good Old Days … I’ve played the Saturn VF2 for literally five minutes and I played Fighters Megamix a bit, five years ago. I’d play arcade VF3 once a week for a period of couple of months (always using Sarah) - I own a now sadly non-functional copy of Dreamcast VF3:tb, and bought but barely touched the original PS2 VF4. Hardly a glowing list of credentials, yet even this was enough to give me a basic grounding, to allow me to understand and develop my skill, knowledge and ability — thanks largely to the lengths Evolution goes to help you out and make things fun for you — and I can now confidently say that VF4E is an absolutely stunning game.

So how exactly has VF4 ‘evolved’? While I’ve yet to see it using tools, hunting in packs or making primitive cave drawings, it’s development in finer and less shit pun-related areas is of some interest. It adds two new characters - the flamboyant (yes, I know) and immaculately-coiffed kickboxer Brad Burns, and the pierced, almost vampiric judo assassin, Goh Hinogami.

Goh is strange - his quirky and somewhat un-VF-like design, plus the fact he almost has a personality make him a character whom has doubtless been the subject of many double-takes. I found him hard to use - a lot of his strength comes from lengthy throw setups and sequences, but he’s definitely a quality addition. Brad is more straightforward, with a large repertoire of kicks, knees (including a Tiger Knee!) jabs, ducks, bobs and weaves making him a difficult-to-predict opponent.

As an arcade conversion the game is very impressive. The NAOMI2 version looked excellent for the time, and the PS2 copes admirably, for the most part achieving a close impersonation of the original. There are noticeable graphical shortcuts to be found - bitmaps are sometimes used to simulate distance and complex structures, with varying levels of success; background objects are often slightly simplified; transparencies, reflections and other lighting effects are far less intricate and integrated with the levels and characters, and distant texturing of objects is less than impressive. The game also judders and jerks a little, when displaying large areas of the stages at once.

The variable angle light sourcing of the arcade game - showcased best in the ‘rooftop’ stage is missing as well - where originally the shadows caused by the helicopter searchlights changed constantly in relation to where the lights were, here the light source is single, and fixed.

Fortunately most of these problems are really only obvious at the start of each round - as the stage is introduced through a series of quick, scene-setting cuts. Once zoomed in to player level they’re all a lot less obvious.

Far more successful are the character models themselves. The facial details and animation are of an extremely high standard, with visible eye, brow and jaw movements allowing for some convincing and subtle expressions, though admittedly the lip-synch is somewhat poor. It’s also clear that far more work and detail has been put into the faces than has the bodies and clothes. The difference up close is quite jarring, especially when paired with the sometimes shoddy texturing on certain limbs and garments - somewhat reminiscent of a similar trick found in Sega’s Shen Mue games. That said, it is only really evident in the intros and winposes - and there is still plentiful detail on costumes and the movement of cloth and accessories, along with the motion of the characters themselves does create an impressive level of realism.

The almost total lack of coloured hit effects, as well as the blasts and beams and blobs of energy found in most other fighting games helps adds to the ‘real life’ feel of the game, although it does make it seem a little ‘dry’ at times, and it’s not until a fair few hours of play have passed that it is possible truly appreciate what’s being shown. While suffering in comparison to newer, more aesthetically-minded 3D fighter franchises on more powerful consoles, VF4E is still a visually impressive, competently designed game in its own right. And unlike its predecessor, PS2 VF4E also features an anti-aliasing effect which eliminates the harsh, jagged polygon edges that were highly prominent in the original VF4, a problem it was harshly criticised for by many reviewers.

The presentation itself is of mixed quality. The menus look great - unfolding mechanically, while lights glow and lightning flashes, and the option to select your own ‘wallpaper’ from an ever expanding unlockable list is a nice touch. The character select screen is functional but effective with some nice artwork, and the ‘map’ in Quest mode is clear and modern-looking. Other aspects are less impressive. The presentation of the Quest mode is sub-par in places - the VERSUS screen being absolutely appalling, looking like it was resized in Painstshop, then cut and pasted together in three minutes, clashing and flickering terribly.

The game does suffer a little from a lack of a theme. Essentially plotless and set at no specific place at no specific time, it’s all just there, nicely done but with no real ‘heart’, especially when compared to Namco’s sterling work in their recent titles. It’s a hollow, stale attempt at creating a ‘world’, and while obviously the efforts put into the game itself compensate plentifully, I do feel that, well, having both character and gameplay would still have been better than just the game.

It’s not entirely arid, though. The characters are appealing enough, once you get to ‘know’ them, and some of their costumes and paraphernalia add to this. The game also has a very subtle, very sly sense of humour - for example one of the tournaments you enter is called the ‘Virtua Cup’ (complete with the bullet-ridden logo and everything.) - and there’s a distinctly sarcastic-sounding laugh when you clear a task in the training mode, although that could just be me.

The whole thing does still have that special ‘SEGA’ feel, that lean, cold, near-futuristic, vaguely threatening but oh-so cool Japanese aura about it, and it is also well directed - the stage intros, the way they intercut between establishing shots of scenery and shots of characters doing things, along with the win poses are all quite impressive.

The music manages to match the cutting edge, sterile feel of the game very well. Lots of techno, with some soft rock scattered around the place - keeping the action going and getting the blood pumping well enough, yet nothing especially memorable or tuneful, nor anything that (heaven forbid) adds anything to any of the characters or their surroundings. A scattering of environmental sound effects (crowd cheers in the wrestling cage, gulls on the beach) do add a little atmosphere.

The sound effects are typically Virtua Fighter - impacts described with either an oddly metallic “kkksh!” or a hollow, crumpling “gup!” - neither even remotely appropriate nor realistic but at the same time somehow working, and even quite satisfying; giving a great sensation of quick draw, rapid-fire action.

The character voices have been recorded with absolutely no sense of how human beings actually talk whatsoever. That anyone could have approved these shocking and frequently hilarious soundbytes as suitable worries me tremendously. The few characters who speak their native Chinese or Japanese get off lightly, but the English-speakers are almost constantly painted as utterly ridiculous creatures; chokingly, stutteringly ejaculating syntax-defying victory samples with gloriously over the top faux aggression, confidence or good humour. Reel! As Lion Rafaele covers the entire human vocal pitch range in just five words! Tremble! At Jeffry’s nonsensical, ridiculous (mwu-huu-hah!) blunderings! Cringe! At literally every single utterance Jacky makes. It’s terrible, laughable and thoroughly embarrassing — yet strangely alluring and charming at the same time - the audio equivalent of 1990’s SNK winquotes.

And it actually does go some way to adding to the characters themselves. Almost entirely bereft of story and motivation they need all the help they can get.

There are few games that could get away with being so shallow on characters, plot and personality as this one, but VF does it effortlessly, and it is a tribute to the game, the almost frightening depth, scope and challenge contained within that it can be so story-light and still so successful.

Yet as I have mentioned, it is not impossible to play. While doing three-separate throw-escape commands in under a second every time a throw is performed is advised, it is hardly an immediate neccessity. It’s important not to get intimidated in the early stages - just as something such as Kara Throwing is not vital in knowing how to play SF3:3s for a good while - the same is true here. The way the game, specifically the way Quest Mode works - you learn at your own pace, and the game is never impossible or unknowable at any stage, and even the trickier concepts reveal themselves without too much fuss.

This is the first fighting game I think I have ever played where just puzzling along on your own gets results. Not great results, but enough to spur the player onward. Each character’s move list is very logical and very natural, although that said, some of the more complex, top-end commands are a whole game in themselves (Akira’s knee, anyone?)

Overall there’s a real feeling of solidity, of causality. Coming straight from the excellent Tekken 4, such as I was, the far tighter controls and actions, the lack of excessive animations and effects come as quite a shock at first. The hit/collision windows are far stricter than those in Namco’s game - there’s none of the extended hitting of downed opponents, nor are the moves lists quite so juggle-friendly. Falling, fallen and rising character have clearer, longer periods of invincibility and everything feels more precise.

However this is not to say the combat is in any way dull or repetitive, good lord no. The VF games have always concerned themselves with speed and accuracy and the VF4/E engine is mercilessly, ruthlessly precise, clean and deadly accurate. I’ve never played a fighting game before that so perfectly represented the mechanics, functions and results of its engine graphically. There’s never a single instance where the player will ask “how did that hit?” — everything translates exactly as it should, everything hits, misses, blocks and bounces just as expected. If the player gets hit, it’s always, always the players’ fault.

I’ve often seen VF referred to as being the most ‘realistic’ of fighting franchises, and while the game still plays fast and loose with accepted physics (try punching a falling fat guy five times in a row and you’ll see what I mean) - it’s the sense of thorough internal consistency, of the perfect conversion of what you do into what you see (and vice versa) and the need for the player to be constantly aware of how weight, speed and momentum are always affecting play that really make it shine. Some of the slightly more advanced concepts - such as how the footing of the character determine which direction spinning moves hit, and thus which direction they need to be dodged in - they’re the things that really show how much there is to the game.

The trade-off of all these realism is that VF4E is by far the least visually spectacular of the current crop of 3D fighters; there’s none of your huge glowing motion blurs, no giant clouds of lightning or explosions as you hit the fence. The best you can ask for is a small yellow glow, emanating from a counter hit, and Dural’s light-reflective tits.

But satisfaction in this game comes from the appreciation of the minutiae of the combat itself. The more you play it the more you realise it, and before long, what was once two guys jerkily flailing at one another becomes a graceful, expertly calculated ballet of death or, something very similar to that.

Despite presenting the player with an incredibly minimalist control scheme - Block, Punch and Kick - the sheer amount of things; options, manoeuvres, techniques of the most incredible refinement that can be done with just three buttons is amazing. And even at a beginner level, diversity is encouraged in a way no other 3D fighter quite manages to capture. Throwing is encouraged, at a far more basic level and the way the game is designed, throws are a far more useful, far more relevant and most importantly far more damaging tool than they are in other games. Combos too, can be quite destructive, even simple launch > juggle efforts take off heavy amounts of life, which again I felt motivated me to learn more, and how to implement more of them into my play. And when you factor in the walled stages, and the extra attack opportunities that arise from them - it’s actually a lot easier to rattle off a satistfying and useful combo in this game than it is in others, contrary to VF’s usual reputation.

And as I’ve said before, it’s all so intelligently done. Nothing is really over-powerful, nothing is totally useless. The learning curve of the game, the training, the quests … they all come together to create a real sense of progress and improvement that is tremendously satisfying, and really rewards effort and thought.

The arenas (all square) the fights take place in are a mix of walled and open areas - as ever the risk on the walled stages is suffering the increased damage, stun and subsequent combo potential that being hit into a wall yields, and in the open stages, it is being pushed out of bounds to lose by way of ‘ring out’. Some of the walls can be broken by excessive impact, and the gap then fallen through. While ring outs have a reputation for being ‘cheap’ I’ve yet to feel in the slightest that being forced out is something that’s unavoidable or unfair.

Now as someone who’s last real involvement with the series was VF3 (yes I own VF4, but put scandalously short time into it) I do still miss the uneven terrain and irregularly-shaped arenas (made things feel even more ‘real’) of that game. On the other hand the ‘Escape’ button’s replacement by stick motions is perfectly done, and I don’t miss it in the slightest. Unlike its contemporaries, VF4E’s sidestepping and movement is still somewhat traditional. Back and forth dashing, plus the standard avoid commands seem to be enough for the game, with no need for elaborate free walking systems. Clearly the designers felt that the more straightforward and close-in combat of the game didn’t really benefit from being able to run around in circles, and I feel that was a wise decision, despite it feeling a little stiff initially.

With a game of this magnitude, anything less than an encyclopaedic training mode would have been quite criminal, and Sega have delivered just that. Literally everything you could ever want to ever know about the game is included in one of the several training mode subsections - a glossary of terms, character combos, scenarios, a huge array of challenges … the coverage of every single technique in the game, free training with huge amount of customisable options … when I think of excellent training modes I instinctively think of Namco home fighters, but this just destroys them all. The training mode is almost a full game in itself, and probably worth as much too.

There are also numerous replays available (plus the choice to save your own) - the ones already there showcase some of Japan’s top players, doing things that, let’s face it, we are never going to do. Still, it’s amazing stuff - and if you don’t quite manage to reach the pinnacles of VF excellence, at least you can watch someone who did.

As well as the training mode, VF4E’s most prominent new feature is that of the ‘Quest’ mode. Building on the similar, but much less structured, varied or interesting ‘Kumite’ mode in VF4, Quest mode is the real meat of the game.

Now VF is notoriously plot-light. While regular VF4 got by having brief character profiles, and hoping no-one would notice the lack of an overall story, in Evolution, AM2 have taken the game in a strange, interesting new direction. Quest mode casts you as a Virtua Fighter player. Not as a character - not a lonely, hygiene-impaired karate practitioner, large-breasted whimpering ninja schoolgirl or sweaty, morbidly obese yet strangely cheerful grappler - but as an actual player of the game. This mode takes place in a town which contains more arcades than most continents do nowadays, and you compete against other ‘players’, with the goal of entering, and winning (yes, really) the tournaments held therein.

Each arcade is host to its own set of players, of varying levels of ability and even play style, each of whom has their own set of statistics (the game records every win and loss) - as well as individual items and costumes for their characters. These players are frequently comedically-named, I’ve faced off against such intimidating pseudo-people as ‘glass jaw’, ‘Apple Pai’ (get it?) and my personal favourite, the rumour-shrouded, indestructible half-human legend known only as …. ‘BACON&EGGS’.

Quest Mode works fairly straightforwardly. Pick a character and a single arcade appears on the map. When selected, the option to start playing other folks appears, as well as look at the arcade stats, or select a ‘quest order’. Quests are funny little tasks and challenges that when completed earn a small amount of money. They basically test your VF knowledge and ability, beginning inanely with things like ‘throw your opponent’, ‘win five fights in a row’ and ’stagger your opponent’ and getting tougher and tougher as you go along. They’re fun, and they keep you occupied while you’re qualifying.

The tournaments aren’t open to the novice player, questing VF’ers have to meet a specific requirement before they can compete. The requirements are like super quests; you may have to beat 30 people, or get a 50% win rate vs the players, or complete four of the mini quests before being allowed to join.

These qualifying periods are what takes up the bulk of the play time. The tournaments themselves, even the larger ones rarely take more than ten minutes to get through, and I won’t lie, sometimes it can get a little boring. You can pick quests from the menu to earn some cash and challenge yourself, sometimes a ‘prize’ will be offered (money, or an item) and there’s the opportunity to scale the rank titles, going from 9th Kyu to 1st Kyu and then from 1st Dan up to 9th Dan and there are things beyond that that I’ll probably never get to. There’s also the whole ‘joy of the fight’ thing, which keeps it feeling somewhat fresh - but basically it boils down to playing the game endlessly, single-mindedly in almost RPG-ian fashion, probably the closest thing a fighting game has to ‘power levelling’.

It’s all well and good the first character playthrough, but racking up 100 or so wins, and then moving on to another character and realising with dawning horror that you’ve got to go through the exact same path again, in exactly the same order is quite demoralising. To have randomised the order of the arcades, or at the very least had slightly different orders for each character, or more than one of each of the difficulty levels (the learning curve is finely graduated) - would perhaps have made long-term investments in this mode a little more pleasurable. As it stands it’s very Virtua Fighter (lucky, really) - lots of hard work, little in the way of fancy rewards, just a quiet, bitter sense of grim satisfaction. It’s like working in a coal mine, compared to the soft toy boutique feel of other fighters.

One other feature on the map is ‘Event Square’ - where you can enter a selection of supremely tough separate tournaments, each with a theme, and some sort of game engine enhancement. One sees extra damage dealt to wall hits, another rewards counters, another allows move-to-move cancelling for all sorts of psychotic PPPKPKKKPKPKPKKKPKPKRPKPKPKKXKPKPK173/4sPKK fun.

Of course the real reason this game is so popular, so highly regarded, the reason why you WILL spend literally days trudging through the virtual arcades is not the diamond-edged combat, nor the utter untouchable prestige being a VF player grants…

No, it’s because you get to play dress-ups.

Completing missions and winning tournaments earns money which can be spent in the shop. The shop sells a wide variety of interesting accessories to clip onto your chosen character, everything from earrings, to sunglasses, hats and hair colour, hair style, eye colour, outfit colour (Sarah in silver is super sexy), knee guards (ooer) and plenty more.

Colour schemes can be mixed and matched and overall it is a lot of fun making your character look cool, stupid or hot.

It’s also possible to purchase new (and classic) win poses, video clips of the smuggest players in the universe (playing ONE-HANDED for Christ’s sake!!), and the boxy ‘VF1′ characters models, for novelty and nostalgia. There are also ‘orbs’ to collect, which can be traded in specific number for rare items. The items in the shop are expensive, and new items are revealed very slowly, but it’s still a lot of fun.

That’s true of Quest Mode in general. Despite the air of tedium that can sets in from time to time, it is undoubtedly the meat of the game (there really is no point at all in playing Arcade Mode), it is extremely challenging, an innovative approach to a genre that as a rule is rarely adventurous and an excellent way to ease yourself, lubricated into the game. The challenges and quests poke and prod you into finding out about the game in a way that’s never intimidating or off-putting, and the perfectly steeped learning curve means that there’s never an impossible fight, it’s always just out of reach. It’s incredibly long-lasting, satisfying, and something you can dip in and out of (although not too far out, or you’ll never remember those combo timings) as and when you want to.

And character customising IS the future. OK, character customising, and hoverboards.

With two such excellent focal points, the rest of the game does pale a little in comparison. As mentioned before, arcade mode is pointless - lacking any endings or story or anything other than the Dural fight and a credit sequence. Perhaps sensing their innate pointlessness, AM2 have omitted the usual team/group/survival options and the ‘AI training’ mode from PS2 VF4 is also gone, but not forgotten.

I can’t say I miss them, either, not when the main game is so wholesome. And there isn’t really much else to find fault with here.

One thing I feel I must protest is that way that in a bizarre decision, Vanessa’s original VF4 costume, the shorts and halter top outfit has been removed entirely. The justification from Sega themselves being that it might be ‘too much’ for ‘the kids’. A truly strange attitude to take, especially in a time where both Namco and Tecmo are consistently pushing the boundaries of simulated female physiology, with, as far as I’m aware a grand total of zero bouncing breasts and white panties-influenced criminal incidents. But, there you have it.

Another nitpick - I wish the autosave would be truly automatic, instead of asking me if I do really want to save. And then if I really really do want to save. I wish it would shut up! Never mind.

I think it’s fair to say that VF has never been an especially beginner-friendly series, and that Evolution is ultimately no exception. Nobody ever had much fun bashing buttons cluelessly in this game, that’s for sure. But at the same time, as I said at the start I do feel that its inscrutability and its impenetrable, indecipherable mysteries are often overplayed.

You DO need to put a bit more work in before you get anything back, that much is true, but it’s not that much more. The design of the game - the quest modes and the unbelievably good training modes see to that. And when you click, when you start working with the game instead of against it - it’s a moment unparalleled in any other piece of software.

I’ve written a little over 4,500 words here, and I still feel there’s so much I could talk about, so much I haven’t really given due coverage - little things, sweeping concepts - offers of friends and family as slaves.

And most important of all - the best thing about the game, the thing that truly sets it apart from the pack - the fact that liking VF, knowing about VF, and being good at VF - the prestige and respect you get, not just online and in arcades, but from friends and family, at work, and out on the street - it’s amazing. Sixteen people threw themselves into fast-moving traffic rather than cross my path on my way to work this morning, and when I went to HMV at lunchtime, the entire female staff contingent dragged me into the stock room and had their way with me. And all because I spent that extra hour going through Wolf’s command throws!

I can’t stress how important it is that people play this - and that those who have played it and wrote it off for whatever reason go back to it and try again. It’ll never win any awards for most likable characters, or most intriguing story but my god it is pure, exhausting, teeth-clenching, finger-numbing FIGHTING of the most wonderful kind imaginable - a game that has gone from an object of terror to my favourite ever 3D fighting game and one of my favourite fighters of all time in the space of two months. A towering game, a mighty game. A game where even Sarah’s huge, shiny rubber-clad ass pales into insignificance next to the wonder of the game itself. And I really can’t give it higher praise than that.

• Developer: AM2
• Publisher: Sega
• Score: 95%