Sifu is very hard. You will metaphorically ram your own head through a wall trying to finish the game as often as you will literally ram the heads of your various assailants through walls, windows, glass bottles, metal pipes, bats, and the occasional footstool. Sifu’s difficulty is also underpinned by the challenging conversations happening around the game itself. As hard as Sifu is, and as thorny as the discourse surrounding its provenance and development are, Sifu succeeds in its attempt to capture the frenetic action of the kung fu film and tries to be a thoughtful and respectful portrayal of Chinese martial arts culture. But that authenticity and respect also exist in parallel with the game’s problems of representation.
Sifu is a playable martial arts flick. It is The 36th Chamber of Shaolin meets Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice, combining quick-hitting, one vs. many kung fu action with “the die and try again” aspect of a roguelike. You are tasked with eliminating five martial arts masters who murdered your father a training montage-appropriate number of years before. You would have also died that fateful night if not for a mysterious power that resurrected you, which forms the basis of the game’s unique structure.
In most roguelike games, you die early and often, with death resetting your progress, reviving slain enemies, and plopping you at some previous point. In Sifu, you will also die early and often, but with each death, you have the option to revive right where you fell, no enemy resets. This comes at a price. Each time you resurrect, you get older, and after a certain number of resurrects, your health decreases while your strength increases. So, starting at age 20, death provides both boon and bane until you’re
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