As many readers may already know, I have developed a genuine appreciation for Donkey Kong Bananza. This title offers a remarkably creative and clever interpretation of the iconic DK character, effectively expanding the existing Donkey Kong universe while simultaneously crafting something entirely new for a younger audience. With an impending movie release, this game is perfectly timed for introducing a new generation to the vibrant world of Donkey Kong. It's simply brilliant.
However, I have a critique to share with Nintendo. A thought occurred to me, one that may resonate with only a select few: Isn't it amusing how becoming a parent can reshape your perspective? I understand if some readers have already clicked away—farewell to those who did! But for those who remain, I assure you I'm not here to sing the praises of parenthood. Instead, my experience with my young gamer-in-training has influenced how I perceive DK Bananza.
To my child, Mario exists primarily as a movie character, sharing the same fantastical realm as Elsa and Mirabel, among others. We've enjoyed watching the surprisingly humorous Sonic Boom together, and thanks to the Mario Bros. Movie, she has developed a fondness for "the monkey." Since showing her the Nintendo Direct presentation, her excitement for Bananza has been palpable. "Oh, he's got a Princess friend!" she exclaimed at the reveal of Pauline, and I couldn't help but smile.
During my time reviewing DK Bananza, my daughter has been watching me play and even attempting to join in herself—though her limited ability to tackle a mechanically complex game poses a challenge. Much of the game's design seems perfectly tailored for her age group, with the young Pauline acting as a relatable character. However, there’s a significant hurdle: my daughter is not yet able to read. This led me to ponder: Why can't these characters communicate in a more accessible manner?
It’s intriguing to note that while the game is quite dialogue-heavy, the characters engage in what appears to be a form of subtitled gibberish. In the cutscenes, villains monologue, allies cheer, and yet, the dialogue remains largely incomprehensible. I went back to rewatch these scenes, trying to decipher whether Nintendo had created an entirely new language. However, it seems there is no definitive Kong dialect—just expressive sounds paired with subtitles. The peculiar aspect is that only one character, Pauline, speaks fluent English, leading to awkward interactions where she responds to nonsensical grunts.
This communication barrier raises questions about whether such a level of language immersion is truly necessary. While Mario has long been a silent protagonist, characters like Bowser have evolved with distinct voices. I appreciate the use of subtitles, as they can enrich vocabulary, but watching my daughter struggle to follow the story in Bananza made me realize the limitations of this approach, especially for younger players who are not yet literate. The cutscenes move rapidly, leaving little time for comprehension.
Sure, my daughter will eventually be able to navigate the game independently, but it was disheartening to see her miss out on the narrative experience alongside me. This situation feels somewhat outdated, particularly in a gaming landscape where children recognize the distinct personalities of characters like DK and Bowser, who have unique voices behind the scenes.
As we transition into an era where Nintendo aims to engage audiences through various media, the dissonance between gaming and cinematic experiences becomes increasingly apparent. We are witnessing a shift with other franchises, such as the Legend of Zelda, where characters like Zelda and Ganondorf have been given more dynamic dialogues in recent titles.
One of the standout features of Donkey Kong Bananza is its narrative, particularly the evolving relationship between DK and Pauline. The traditional dynamic often seen in games has been reimagined into a heartfelt partnership, akin to a protector/protectee or even a father/daughter bond. This emotional depth is beautifully illustrated in a pivotal cutscene where Pauline calls out for DK, stirring genuine emotion akin to the impactful moments of classic games.
While the relationship between DK and Pauline thrives despite DK's silence, the inconsistency in character communication raises concerns. If we have villains who can monologue and engage in dramatic exchanges, it seems only fitting that other characters should also communicate in a coherent manner, especially when one character speaks English fluently.
Given that the game features a talented voice cast, the reliance on subtitled gibberish feels like a missed opportunity. While the creative decisions may save costs on localization, it underscores a need for evolution in character interactions. As Nintendo characters increasingly become trans-media icons, it’s essential for them to communicate effectively in games, ensuring that stories resonate across all platforms and remain engaging for the next generation.
