Sifu Review: Bites The Hand That Feeds

Sloclap captivated audiences with the promise of an enthralling action-adventure reminiscent of filmmaker Park Chan-wook’s vigorous vision. Between the astonishing aesthetic paired with remarkable sound direction, Sifu delivers on that promise as a presentational marvel. But unfortunately, punishing gameplay and overly-complex systems make for an inaccessible and overwhelmingly difficult experience. Buried within the complexity is an enthralling experience which I truly adore, but Sifu’s overly engineered systems fight back in brutal fashion to the point of frustration and defeat.

Before proceeding, I want to clarify that I was unable to complete Sifu due to difficulty and lack of accessibility options. My review reflects three of the five stages and approximately eight to ten hours of play; enough where I feel I can appropriately express critical thoughts on the game.

Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Cold.

Betrayed by five protégés, a young Kung Fu student witnesses the murder of his father and former Sifu, setting the stage for a tale of pure vengeance. Sifu is a story on the toll revenge takes on one’s mind, body, and spirit. Ironically, this is reflected towards the player through gameplay as well, but more on that later. It asks the question of how far you’re willing to sacrifice to go in order to honor the death of a loved one and your family’s legacy. While it’s a familiar narrative harkening back to classic revenge tales, Sloclap brings consequences to the forefront. Consistent failure is displayed time and time again courtesy of a mysterious charm; an object at the center of the hero’s vengeance. With each death comes new life, but at the cost of accelerated age. 

Sifu’s narrative is easily comparable to Kill Bill; massacre fueled by betrayal, meticulous training and planning for years, and finally execution. While it may come off as cliche, Sloclap’s interpretation of Tarantino's revenge structure is fulfilled in wonderful fashion courtesy of the five targets. These individuals are brought to life exquisitely through little dialog and pure environmental storytelling. Ranging anywhere from a botanist working for a drug gang to an icon in the high-art world, the sense of unique branching paths these five have taken is expressed meaningfully without the need of exposition and pure environmental storytelling. Existing in their own piece of the world is fascinating, and ultimately crafts a weighty final encounter with each. With each new surprise or detail, I grew hungry to learn more. And without fail, the narrative and characters always delivered.

Everything Everywhere All At Once

When it comes to Sifu’s presentation, Sloclap impresses with not only a striking aesthetic, but also how the team plays with different artistic elements to exaggerate tone. Each stage feels like a unique canvas hung on a wall. That canvas contains an establishing palette, but the art spills onto the walls in surprising and unexpected ways. What begins as a classic Lo Wei love-letter in visuals and cinematography progressively morphs into an expressive interpretation into the psyche of these five characters, something we may see from modern day experimental filmmakers. Scenes are best experienced with no knowledge going in, but to simply put, Sifu looks like a 21st century arthouse Kung Fu film.

The auditory experience of Sifu is another element worth celebrating, as Howie Lee beautifully captures the narrative themes through feverish percussion. The dub and techno-heavy score drives the action forward, and is only complimented by the impactful sound design. Punches and kicks give off a percussive timbre of their own, serving as organic instruments which make each fight feel like an artistic performance. This effect, of course, is beautifully exaggerated through brutal choreography from Pak Mei master Benjamin Colussi. 

Complementing the auditory direction wonderfully, Sifu may hold the best utilization of the DualSense’s tech I’ve experienced thus far. The haptics capture the action on screen in imaginative and creative fashion. This is best displayed during the second stage within a hallway of flashing neon lights. As the lights flash along to a sixteenth rhythm of Lee’s score, the haptics pulse in uniform. Not only that, but as the hero moves forward and becomes surrounded by lights, the haptics give off a sensation of forward motion; starting behind the hero and pulsing forward. On a more subtle note, effects such as rain are also effective and welcomed; thankfully not an overused trick in games yet. Additionally, to much of my surprise, the controller’s speaker is also utilized with care. Instead of the overbearing and distorted “walkie talkie” effect we’ve all become jaded by, the speaker provides an extra subtle layer of soft environmental soundscapes. It’s never distracting, and honestly provides a small, refreshing touch.

The one knock I have against the overall production value is the english voice acting. Performances and delivery are often weak, and at times take you out of tense scenarios. The standout was the second boss, who has given me the most trouble to begin with. Hearing poorly delivered lines repeatedly gets to be a bit much, especially in unskippable moments. If it wasn’t for the surrounding presentational elements, I wouldn’t make much of it. But in such a beautiful game, it sticks out. Full Chinese localization is in the works and will be coming shortly after launch. If you’re able to play with Chinese dialog with subtitles when it arrives, I would recommend that route. 

In Water, They Both Sink.

In the same breath as the incoming Chinese localization comes the game’s setting, cultural inspiration, and surrounding elements. Sloclap places the kung fu power fantasy cliche at the core of Sifu’s direction, harping stereotypes in attempts to create a fleshed out world. It comes off as superficial, and in turn, quite insensitive. Stages are packed with set dressing such as Chinese characters graffitied on walls, bamboo riddled arenas, or geisha-posed-assassins in attempts to draw allure without much purpose other than the additional “wow”. It gives off temporary-tattoo vibes; surface-level without any depth or meaning. With boss encounters, the second phase turns into something otherworldly. While I personally interpreted these set pieces as the toll the downward spiral of revenge can take on one’s psyche, I fear the intent was to mystify high-skilled martial artists. Pak Mei is an intricate, grounded martial art, but these second phases turn the art into a bit of a magic show. To reiterate, on a pure production and artistic standpoint, the game and the boss encounters in particular are gorgeous. But strip all of the cultural stereotypes away, you still have a strikingly beautiful game with fantastic core gameplay where you feel like a complete badass seeking revenge on those who caused you harm. Liam Neeson has proven time and time again that it can work. Instead, the easy route is taken; the aforementioned Bruce Lee power fantasy mystifying eastern culture. There’s an overlying sense of exoticism in play throughout, and it’s unnecessary.

This is not an indication on whether or not I believe white studios can take on multicultural stories. They can, sure. But a level of care put into the project from inception to publishing is critical. From the project’s inception to printing, hiring and including creators from varied backgrounds with viewpoints different from your own helps ensure a story is being told in an appropriate manner. In turn, this results in an industry that is inclusive and diversified.

If you would like to gain further insight into Sloclap’s use of setting and character, including the highly questionable media kit that was sent to press, I urge you to read Khee Hoon Chan’s Sifu piece over on The Gamer.

Die, Die My Darling

Sifu is a fantastic and engaging game to play, but only when it wants to works with you. Brutal difficulty paired with mechanical complexity makes for a game that is punishing and overwhelming. It’s a heartbreaking reaction given everything outside of the gameplay. When the game cooperates in an understanding and fair fashion, it delivers phenomenal moments. But with the dial pumped up to eleven, it makes for a complex and heartbreaking outcome at the end of the day.

Sifu’s most unique mechanic and selling point is the age and death system. Upon every death, the hero ages. The age is tied to the aforementioned charm, with each decade represented by a coin. When the hero reaches a new decade, a coin breaks. Once all coins have broken at the age of 70, reviving is not an option and it’s game over. The system is a fascinating and alluring draw, but like many of the systems I’ll be touching on, it goes too far and adds unnecessary punishment. Tied to the age is a death counter. As the death counter increases, so does the amount of years the hero will age. Aging two or three years feels like a fair consequence for defeat, but there is no limit. Once that counter hits seven or eight, sessions end in the blink of an eye without the chance of recovery. Learning stages and unlocking shortcuts promote replayability to make it through the stage at both a better age and a lower death count, but even that comes with an unfair cost of losing any sense of progression.

Before touching on progression, it’s important to understand the core combat. In lamest terms, Sifu can be broken down to offense and defense. Attacks primarily boil down to a light and heavy attack, with accompanying combos akin to a traditional fighting game. Additionally, there is a focus meter for limited special attacks that thankfully never fail, as well as a robust amount of environmental weapons at your disposal. But in order to come out victorious, defense is optimal. Parries and dodging are critical to making it through encounters. Successful dodges provide openings, and parries build up a stagger meter. Once built up, a finishing move is triggered. Sound familiar? Correct - the core combat system is very much Sloclap’s interpretation of FromSoftware’s Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice.

In the lead up to boss encounters, Sifu is very much a game of crowd control. An overwhelming amount of enemies in a room means attempting to execute perfect parries in succession. At times, it’s manageable and immensely rewarding. But more overwhelming crowds bring in balancing issues. Attack animations from multiple enemies may trigger almost simultaneously. Unintentionally layered attacks are near-impossible to completely dodge or parry. Occasionally, there may be an enemy off-screen leaping forward and nailing a cheap shot without warning. Particular elite enemies and bosses have power attacks at their disposal. While the attacks are telegraphed with an orange flash, the lead up is too rapid to appropriately react. If I ever successfully dodged a power attack from an elite, it was due to pure luck. Instead of teaching upon failure with the intent to improve the player’s skill, the game throws you back in the deep end. These apply to the bosses as well, which only ups the brutality. The second boss, in particular, comes with a massive difficulty spike. To use Sekiro as a comparison - Sekiro’s combat is methodical and precise, whereas Sifu felt like a flurry of button-mashing guesses when in too deep. 

Complimenting your core arsenal is an RPG-like skill tree and shrines containing buffs within stages. Sticking with the theme of complexity, both of these systems hold rogue-lite mechanics which only push the difficulty further. The skills unlocked within the tree only stick around for your current run, unless five times the unlockable XP amount is spent to permanently unlock. For example, an upper-tier skill may cost 1,500XP. To permanently unlock it, it will cost 7,500XP. Pouring XP in does not provide any additional advantage either, so at times it feels like spending money on nothing. As someone who struggled with the difficulty, permanently unlocking skills was a rare occurrence and the sensation of wasting XP was plentiful. Thankfully, the skill tree didn’t have much on there I felt was necessary. The tree mostly contains additional combos that would only add more complexity to the core combat. Necessary upgrades came in the form of shrine buffs; additional health when taking out an enemy, weapon damage, extra focus bar. Akin to skills that are not permanently unlocked, these are tied to your current run. So as mentioned earlier, if replaying a stage is the only option, any progression is lost. 

With every play session came an abundance of wishes. I wish the combat system was stripped back and simplified. I wish there was a signal for incoming attacks akin to Marvel’s Spider-Man or the Akrham series. I wish progression mattered and carried with me. But most notable, I wish there were accessibility options similar to Hades’ God Mode for folks like myself who struggled hours on end with little-to-no success. Many play sessions ended with pure hand pain and frustration. Up until today, I felt the drive to give it one more try; not only to gain that Souls-like sense of victory, but to see what beautiful surprises Sloclap meticulously crafted for myself. But as I write this review, as much as I adore the game buried in complexity, it’s safe to say I’ve officially given up on attempting to roll credits. 

Breakdown

Game: Sifu

Developer: Sloclap

Availability: PS4, PS5, PC

Reviewed on PlayStation 5

Pros:

+ Aesthetically outstanding

+ Impactful, driving score

+ Remarkable creative vision

+ Characters and environments

+ DualSense utilization

+ The prologue and opening credits

Cons:

- Punishing difficulty

- Overly complex systems

- Lack of accessibility options

- False sense of character progression

- Unnecessary rogue-lite elements

- English VO

Final Thoughts

Difficulty is subjective. It’s a frequent conversation revolving around FromSoftware’s work; the easy-mode argument. Titles such as Sekiro provide a sense of great difficulty and challenge, but the line is never crossed into utter punishment. Intricate systems in place help deliver a balanced experience. Describing Sifu as a rogue-lite Sekrio inspired melee-combat game appropriately should trigger excitement. Unfortunately, Sloclap stumbles in the search for balance, reward, and fairness. The team draws from remarkable inspiration, but the execution feels surface level. Excelling in tone, aesthetic, and creative vision, the team delivered an experience I want to love unconditionally with no caveats. But with its punishing complexity atop the core systems and gameplay loop, as well as the lack of accessibility options, my relationship with Sifu is a complicated one at best.

Reviewed by Mike Towndrow