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Comped Playtest Review Dan Davenport February 10, 2006 (Average) The specificity of certain mechanics – especially those concerning powers – keep this from being the “Definitive Anime Role-Playing Game” it claims to be. But if the limits it imposes don’t bother you, its markedly different approach could provide an excellent alternative to Big Eyes, Small Mouth. Dan Davenport has written 121 reviews, with average style of 4.12 and average substance of 4.21. The reviewer's previous review was of Paranoia: Mandatory Bonus Fun Card Game. This review has been read 3367 times. |
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The name’s Davenport. I review games.And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from reviewin’ games, it’s that a knock on the door probably means trouble.
So the other day, when I hear a knock on the roof? That just had to be bad news.
I take a look out the window, and I see this huge-ass robot holdin’ a huge-ass sword standin’ in the lawn. The sun-flash off of the gizmo’s visor was a nice touch – with a loud *TING!* sound effect, no less – but that wouldn’t make the landlord any happier about his poor begonias…
While I’m still takin’ this in, the visor opens up, and this funny-lookin’ scrawny guy with big eyes, a small mouth, and blue hair that looked like someone took a high-powered blow-dryer to the Statue of Liberty comes jumpin’ down.
(Oh, and while he was in the air, the whole world ‘sides him turned into these little vertical lines.)
(No, I hadn’t been hittin’ the sauce that morning, wise guy.)
“Hello!” he says. “I’m here from Infernal Funhouse to ask you to review our new game, RandomAnime! HA!”
He whips the book right outta nowhere and shoves it out in front of him with both hands. He even manages to get another one of those sun-flash/*TING!* combos off of the cover. That really was a neat trick…
Thing was, though, he didn’t really say that stuff. What he said was a bunch of Japanese mumbo-jumbo. I just knew what he said from the words that showed up underneath his feet as he talked. Which I thought was really annoying, and told him so.
“Oh! You are not a ‘subtitles’ man!” he says. (Or, at least, the words below his feet did.)
“Is this better?” he asks, and now the words beneath his feet were gone, and he was speakin’ English… but his mouth wasn’t movin’ in time to what he was sayin’.
“No, not really,” I says, “but I’ll live. And yeah, I’ll take a look at the game. Now, you wanna get that walkin’ tin can outta the lawn before the landlord has kittens?”
He starts lookin’ all panicked-like, with this tic-tac-toe vein bulging on one side of his forehead.
“You really oughta have a doc take a look at that,” I says…
Content
In addition to covering the standard question of “What is roleplaying?”, this chapter also tackles the question of “What is anime?”. In the latter, the book confronts head-on a key problem it faces: namely, that “anime” refers not to a genre, but rather to a medium in which all manner of genres appear – which, of course, begs the question of how an “anime” game differs from a “generic” game.
After a handy glossary of both anime and RandomAnime terms, the chapter sets about answering that very question in the form of Anime Realms and Anime Levels.
The former refer to one of three varieties of anime: Shojo (Japanese for “girl”), which generally features weaker characters and more realistic situations; Shonen (Japanese for “boy”), which generally features more powerful characters and more fantastic adventures, and Sentai, which features giant robots, powerful superheroes, and completely over-the-top situations. In terms of game mechanics, the Anime Realms govern how tough the characters are in terms of attribute and skill points, as well as how many powers they’re likely to have. Anime Level, on the other hand, refers to the relative degree of realism vs. cartoonishness in the setting, with the main game mechanic manifestation being how often characters can use their powers.
This raises some irritating questions.
For one thing, the book uses Sailor Moon as an example of the Shojo Realm, yet the characters in that show seem pretty powerful. And the Anime Levels don’t really keep the impossible from taking place so much as reduce its frequency, giving lie to the idea that the lowest Anime Level equates with the real world. The game restricts some really over-the-top powers to the Sentai Anime Realm, but it’s still entirely possible for an individual to form a Voltron-style Blazing Sword in an Anime Level 1 setting – he just won’t be able to do it as often as he would at the higher levels.
Other various implications of Anime Realms and Levels pop up here and there throughout the book, only serving to further muddy the waters. A summary of every implication of these concepts here, at their first appearance, would be a huge help.
Basically, the system may have been a neat idea in theory, but in practice, it leads to confusion for GMs attempting to create (or re-create) a specific sort of anime setting.
Most of the contents of this chapter refer to later chapters for the actual details. Accordingly, I’ll just cover the basics here.
To create a character, a player must first select a Template – which is a little odd, since this choice doesn’t affect anything else until several steps later.
The Anime Realm determines how many points the player can spend on the character’s attributes, which the game groups into four physical attributes (Strength, Reflexes, Endurance, and Perceptions) and four mental attributes (Intelligence, Wits, Charisma, and Resolve), as well as how many points the player can spend on the fairly broad list of skills. Everyone gets the same number of points to spend on Backgrounds, while the Anime Realm determines the points available to spend on Gimmicks. The Template determines the character’s Luck score, the Anime Realm determines initial turns per round (modified by the Anime Level and by the character’s combined Reflexes, Wits, and Resolve), Movement Rate equals Reflexes, Health Points (a.k.a. hit points) start at 30 for everyone, Resistance Factor (natural armor) is equal to Endurance, and Anime Level determines Pool Points (spent to activate Gimmicks).
Then the Templates really kick in, as the Bonus Points they provide allow the player to increase attributes, skills, Gimmick Points, Health Points, Pool Points, the Luck score, the Movement Rate, Background Points, or to purchase new skills or skill specialties.
Playtest: This all seems pretty straightforward in concept. In practice, however, I found the process almost literally sending me running in circles through the rules before the number of points available finally settled down. As just one example, I realized that characters could spend Bonus Points to increase the Sempai (teacher) Background, and each level of that Background provides an increase in Bonus Points, thereby providing a more efficient means of character improvement – including further increasing the Sempai Background. (In other words, one Bonus point = one Background point, and seven points in the Sempai Background = +40 Bonus points. So why would anyone not want to invest in that Background to multiply their Bonus points exponentially?)
Templates in RandomAnime serve as only the loosest of guides in character creation. Mechanically, they determine only initial Bonus points and Luck scores, with the relative value being 1 point of Luck score = 3 Bonus points. Other than that, they’re fundamentally character concepts based upon anime stereotypes, with examples of each provided from various anime movies and TV shows.
Playtest: The problem my group discovered is that in many cases, the Bonus Point/Luck Score ratio doesn’t seem to reflect the template concept. For example, the Heartthrob template (18/2) allows for the creation of a stronger character than does the Big Bruiser template (15/3).
For no reason I can fathom, the game uses a closed-ended 1-10 scale for both attributes and skills, with 7 being the maximum attribute score for normal humans and with 10 being the maximum skill sore for everybody. The assertion from the writer that actions would become too easy after a certain point without the cap doesn’t take into account the possibility of open-ended difficulty levels.
When purchased, skills start at the level of the related attribute, except in the cases of combat skills and specialized skills – characters automatically start with the former at half the level of the related attribute for free, while the latter start at half the level of the related attribute when purchased. (For example, a character with a Reflexes score of 4 would automatically start with a score of 2 in the combat skill Dodge, would get a score of 4 when initially purchasing the normal skill Aviation, and would get a score of 2 when initially purchasing the specialized skill Mecha Piloting.)
In a cute nod to sillier animes, characters have the option of linking a non-combat skill to a combat skill. The skill then starts at the level of the combat skill – i.e., half the attribute score – but increases for free as the combat skill increases. So, you could have a chef who slices and dices sushi and ninjas with equal panache.
Playtest: I offered this option to the player of a baseball-playing character, but he declined, preferring to just start his Athletics skill at the level of the governing attribute. Strangely, attributes and skills disconnect after character creation, which means that if an attribute gets boosted, it doesn’t increase any related skills along with it. That seriously devalues attribute-augmenting powers, since their only effect is to increase the default uses of the attribute in question.
Backgrounds are as close as the game comes to an “advantage/disadvantage” system – although since they work on a “have them or not” basis, they’re more like an advantage-only system. The backgrounds are:
- Connections
- Cute Furry Pet
- Education
- Fame
- Giant Robot
- Lineage
- Money
- Sempai (teacher)
- Status
- Tomodachi (friend)
- Widget
Characters get seven points to spend on Backgrounds, with most costing one point/level up to level 4 and two points for levels 5-7 (the latter being the maximum). Cute Furry Pet and Giant Robot are the exceptions, with the former costing two points/level at all levels and the latter costing two, three, or four points/level, depending upon the size of the robot.
Actually, some of the Backgrounds could be considered disadvantages, insofar as spending no points on such Backgrounds as Education or Money result in the character being a pre-high school dropout or a below-middle class person, respectively.
Aside from using Background ratings for relevant rolls – making a Status roll to see if the locals have heard of the character, for example – the various Backgrounds serve wildly different purposes. I’ve already mentioned the use/abuse of the Sempai Background. Cute Furry Pet, Giant Robot, and Widget all establish the basic power level of the creature, vehicle, or item in question, with levels in Cute Furry Pet and Giant Robot determining the number of points available to create the being and levels in Widget determining how many intrinsic powers the gadget has, from shrinking to indestructibility. In all three cases, the player can spend the PC’s Gimmick points on powers for the pet, robot, or gizmo at a 2-for-3 discount, the reasoning being that the character doesn’t actually possess the powers himself.
Note that the rules for pet and widget creation get major overhauls in Collectémon and Minionomicon, respectively – so much so that the systems aren’t really compatible. Presumably, the same goes for the new mecha-creation rules in the forthcoming Project GR.
Playtest: Translating a Buffy character’s collapsible spear proved to be a breeze. Perhaps too much of one, in fact, in that he ended up with too many points to spend on intrinsic qualities.
And now we come to the real meat of the book – the section in which the game truly struts its stuff as an anime game.
Considering the lack of a true anime “genre,” the game takes the rather ambitious approach of offering over 100 highly specific powers rather than an effects-based system of the Tri-Stat or HERO model.
The end result is an extensive list of abilities that don’t necessarily lend themselves to every character concept or setting. Not to mention creating some circumstances that are flat-out weird.
For example, while making a character of better-than-human strength is easy enough with the Augment Gimmick, the hard attribute cap of 10 remains. Making a character of really superhuman strength – someone on the level of A-ko of Project A-ko or Ryoko of Tenchi Muyo – isn’t really possible. Now, you can use the Robot Fighter Gimmick to create a character who can dish out and take mecha-scale damage… but only if he’s attacking or attacked by a mecha. In other words, a character who maxes out Robot Fighter can punch out a skyscraper-sized mecha and survive that same mecha stepping on him just as well as he could survive being trod upon by a human, yet he’d break his fist punching an actual skyscraper and would be crushed if one fell on him.
Then there’s the Barrier Gimmick, which allows a character to erect a force field completely invulnerable to everything except energy-based Gimmick attacks, maintain it indefinitely, and attack through it unless the player – for whatever reason – describes the Barrier in such a way as to make that impossible. Energy Gimmicks striking the Barrier call for a contested Resolve roll between the attacker and defender to see if the Barrier holds, regardless of the force of the attacking power. Sufficiently massive mundane attacks – like, say, a nuclear strike – may, at the GM’s discretion, require an uncontested Resolve roll on the part of the character to maintain the Barrier. So, let’s say a character defended by a Barrier takes a hit from the Death Star. If the Death Star’s main gun gets statted up as a Widget with an energy-based Gimmick – some variation on Blast, presumably – then the attack becomes a Resolve-vs.-Resolve contest, never mind the fact that the cannon packs enough force to destroy a planet. And if the main gun isn’t treated as a Gimmick, but rather as “just” a really big “mundane” blaster, then it’s a simple question of the PC’s Resolve to determine if he’s left floating unharmed in space while the planet gets blown out from under him. In short, this Gimmick’s a deal-breaker for any game in which the opposition lacks an offensive energy-based Gimmick.
Also, many of the Gimmicks require some feel for how the game plays before their value (or lack thereof) becomes apparent – Gimmicks like Reroll, that (unsurprisingly) lets the player re-roll a poor dice roll, and Slots, that lets the player add all three dice together when they come up three of a kind. (This will make more sense once I get to the game mechanics below. I promise.)
And in an even broader sense, many of the Gimmick names, while occasionally colorful, don’t lend themselves to obvious descriptions. Quick, which of the following sound better, and what do they do: Naturally Lucky, Incredibly Luck, or Fortune Smiles? How about Seeming, Masquerade, or Mimic? Crab’s Might or Tortoise’s Scale? The book really needs a Gimmick list that includes a brief summary of all abilities to avoid this sort of ambiguity.
Playtest: Character creation took much longer than it should have due to page flipping required to figure out which Gimmick does what.
On the other hand, I like the fact that players can apply the Typed Attack Gimmick to any energy-based Gimmick for free, which not only gives the Gimmick in question specific perks and weaknesses – e.g., a fire-based Gimmick can burn things but may be vulnerable to water – but also lets the character perform inconsequential but cool little cantrips related to the power, such as lighting a cigarette with a flame from the character’s fingertip.
Another Gimmick, Flurry Attacks, lets characters do an end-run around the combat system’s lack of an impact of success levels on damage (see below). The only drawback there is that while it could be interpreted as a single deft, swashbuckling attack, it’s really intended to be the barrage of frenzied attacks that the name suggests. As such, it can’t be used for called shots, a staple of the swashbuckler.
Perhaps the most glaring omission is any sort of magic system, with “magicians” forced to purchase Gimmicks just like anyone else and define them as “spells.” A house rule for Sorcery on the company’s web page does address this problem, however.
Flaws aside, the scope of the selection did impress me, and it grows even more impressive when combined with the Gimmick lists in Collectémon and Minionomicon, not to mention the Gimmicks on the company web site. Moreover, what the Gimmick list lacks in flexibility, it makes up for in anime flavor. In addition to relatively “generic” powers like energy blasts, super-speed, and stretching, characters may be able to “anime leap,” run with ease along any surface, summon blazing swords, and even pull “Shojo Mallets” out of the nowhere known as “hammerspace” to harmlessly clobber errant boyfriends.
And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Nuclear Punch: the power to strike the ground and cause a nuclear explosion that destroys everything in its path… including the explosion’s creator. Every time I read it, I’m reminded of Daffy Duck’s ghostly response to Bugs Bunny’s call for an encore of the former’s show-stopping self-explosion: “I know, I know… but I can only do it once.”
Style Points serve as the game’s equivalent to experience points. In an interesting and thoroughly appropriate twist, however, they’re awarded in a manner reminiscent of the way in which Drama Points are awarded in cinematic Unisystem: i.e., for cool, entertaining, hilarious, and otherwise remarkably in-character and in-genre game play. The big difference here lies in the fact that Style Point awards depend upon the other players, not upon the GM. When one PC performs a stylish act, another player can call for a Style Point award, and all of the players vote. If at least half of them agree and the GM doesn’t object, the PC gets the award.
Playtest: In practice, this really didn’t operate any differently for me than did the Drama Point mechanic in Buffy, aside from me (as GM) not being the one simply assigning them. Players in my Buffy game have been “nominating,” “seconding,” and “thirding” Drama Point awards for some time now, and I didn’t once have a Style Point nomination voted down. In any case, I heartily approve of any game mechanic using positive reinforcement to encourage players to get into the spirit of the game.
Transparency is the name of the game when it comes to the RandomAnime system, even if it seems a bit odd at first. Players roll 3d6, but only two of those three dice are added to the character’s skill score. A total of 10 or better is a success, with modifiers adding or subtracting from the die roll rather than modifying this fixed target number. (Opposed roles are the exception, in which case the high roll wins.)
That third die – which, preferably, will be a different color from the other two – is the “Luck Die,” and it only matters in specific circumstances:
- If it and one of the other two dice come up six, the Luck Die adds to the total and open-ends, continuing to add to the total so long as it keeps coming up six.
- If it and one of the other two dice come up one, the result is the same as above, except the open-ending Luck Die total is subtracted from the final score.
- If the final total is exactly 9 after all modifiers and the Luck Die comes up less than or equal to the character’s Luck score, the action barely succeeds through pure luck; otherwise, it’s an ordinary failure.
- Finally, the Luck Die also serves as the randomizer added to damage in combat (see below).
In addition to the Luck Die, characters can also spend Luck Points to add an additional 1d6 to an ability check or (optionally) to re-roll all three dice and take the best total if the Luck Die and another die both come up ones (see above).
Given the small list of broad skills, the chapter wisely goes on to describe various common game situations and the attributes or skills used to adjudicate them. For example, there’s no skill for searching, so the game uses the Perception attribute for that; however, there is a Stealth skill, so one character searching for another character who’s trying to hide results in a roll of Perception vs. Stealth.
I’m a little surprised at the number of actions governed by attributes alone, such as climbing, intimidation, leadership, and seduction, but I suppose the leeway granted the GM to create new skills renders that a moot point. Still, I wish some of this had been covered in the character creation chapter, so that my players and I wouldn’t have been left searching in vain for seemingly obvious skills that didn’t exist. (Like “Search,” for example.)
Playtest: For some reason, several people in my group just couldn’t seem to wrap their heads around the game’s basic mechanic. I really have no idea why. Perhaps I just wasn’t explaining it well – after all, these are bright people I’m talking about, not to mention experienced gamers. I mention this only to forewarn other GMs in case they experience the same phenomenon with their players.
“Fast and furious” may have joined the ranks of game design clichés, but I’d say it applies to RandomAnime combat. The game keeps modifiers to a bare minimum, with only stunts aimed at truly specific effects – hitting a specific body part, for example – incurring any sort of modifier. Adding to the speed of combat is the fact that defense is simply a matter of adding seven to the defender’s relevant combat skill rather than requiring a roll.
And speaking of rolls, as previously mentioned, the Luck Die acts as the modifier to the flat damage scores of weapons, taking yet another extra roll out of the equation. Resistance Factor and armor reduce damage, and damage reduces Life Points. At zero Life Points or less, the character falls unconscious, losing one Health Point per round without medical attention and dying when reaching a negative Health Point score equal to his Endurance plus the Anime Level.
The rules for “Faceless Minions” warrant special mention. Like many other “mook” rules, it involves members of nameless hordes dropping automatically whenever they take a single hit from a PC, with no modifiers involved (aside from very special circumstances) and with damage being irrelevant. The attacker simply describes the poor goon’s fate however he likes.
I’m not much of a fan of systems like this that disregard damage in combat, since it renders armored goons or physically tougher goons an impossibility – the only goons who are harder to defeat are those who are more difficult to hit. This presents a major problem for PCs relying on offensive Gimmicks like Blast as their major forms of attack, since they’re forced to burn Pool Points to do massive-but-wasted damage playing “mook tag.”
Playtest: Consider Mephistopheles “Meph” Faust, the half-demon sorcerer converted from my Buffy game. In Buffy, he relies on magic in most combat situations. As in RandomAnime, he’s tapping a limited resource when doing so; however, Buffy’s mooks take damage like normal characters – they just have fewer Drama Points with which to soak that damage. That being the case, hitting them with heavy magical artillery makes some sense. In RandomAnime, by contrast, it didn’t matter if he hit the faceless minions with a vaporizing Blast or a cotton swab – one touch, and they were down. That meant a lot of wasted “juice” that could have gone towards fighting the main enemy. By contrast, Gimmicks allowing for various means of multiple attacks allowed the fighter types to do a much more efficient job of “minion sweeping.”
In theory, then, it’s possible to create a character who can take on hordes of enemies like Bruce Lee on speed but turns into a chump once he faces their master, or a character who’s easily overwhelmed by goon swarms but who can punch their leader into orbit.
One advantage that this system has over Feng Shui in this regard has to do with the division of combat skills among several base attributes – in particular, the use of Strength as the basis for Brawling. Unlike their Feng Shui counterparts, muscle-bound “Big Bruiser” types can put their brawn to good use against goons. (Of course, this same rule runs counter to the anime staple of the lithe, quick-and-deadly martial artist.)
I should also mention the game’s use of “cooperative narration” in combat. Essentially, this means that the player gets to narrate his character’s actions right up to the point of success or failure, after which the die result determines whether the player (if the roll succeeds) or the GM (if the roll fails) gets to take it from there. It’s a fun idea, and one I first encountered in Whispering Vault.
Playtest: The technique certainly adds extra flavor to combat, although if all concerned aren’t sufficiently quick on their feet with the descriptions, has the potential to slow things down below the frenzied pace that’s expected of the game.
What would an anime game be without giant robots?
Well, actually, “mecha” covers a lot more than just giant robots, but that’s what tends to spring first to mind.
In any case, players wishing to create mecha decide if the mecha will be small (car-sized), medium (tank-sized), or large (Godzilla-sized), as well as whether the mecha will be humanoid, bestial, vehicular, or some combination of two of these in form.
Form determines the mecha’s speed multiplier and maneuverability, while size determines the degree to which the mecha’s Strength is multiplied to get its human-scale equivalent, how much extra damage it does to human-scale opponents and to smaller mecha, and how much incoming damage from such smaller foes is reduced. Basically, small, medium, and large mecha multiply outgoing damage and reduce incoming damage from human-scale opponents by a factor of 2, 5, and 10 respectively, while mecha multiply outgoing damage and reduce incoming damage by a factor of 2 for mecha one size smaller and by a factor of 4 for a mecha of two sizes smaller. It’s a simple enough system, which makes me all the more frustrated that the same system isn’t applied to superheroically strong and tough PCs. (Or as a general scaling mechanic for all attributes and skills, for that matter.)
As mentioned regarding Backgrounds, each level of the Giant Robot Background gives the player a larger number of points with which to build his mecha. The player then divides these Characteristic Levels between the mecha’s Abilities, Movement, and Arsenal, with each Characteristic Point spent on a level of the relevant aspect providing a pool of points to purchase mecha abilities falling under that aspect.
The chapter bills mecha creation using this system as fast, and I suppose it could be for someone familiar enough with the system. To me, the process of buying levels in one thing to get a pool of points to spend on levels in three other things to get a pool of points to spend on those things is a little cumbersome, especially given the backpedaling required if the player miscalculates the points needed to get this or that ability.
The chapter does cover a respectable array of mecha melee and ranged weaponry, including rules for launching and dodging or destroying missile volleys. Much of the rest of the combat information simply restates moves already described in the Combat chapter, however, leading to a lot of wasted text.
Playtest: Sadly, I haven’t had time to bring in mecha-scale combatants into my review playtest game as of the time of this writing. I do, however, have one PC who possesses a mecha-scale weapon, courtesy of a Gimmick introduced in Minionomicon. Even though the weapon is only on the “small mecha” scale, it still dished out ridiculous amounts of damage – so much so that I strongly suspect the PC would have dominated the game with such a weapon on the scale of the larger mecha sizes. From that, I can only infer that GMs wanting to have a mix of mecha and non-mecha character types had best reconsider, unless (1) all of the PCs have the Robot Fighter Gimmick or a similar anti-mecha countermeasure or (2) any PCs lacking both mecha and anti-mecha powers don’t mind sitting on the sidelines when the heavy metal starts flying.
This chapter consists of three sections: advice on anime roleplaying, sample anime settings (with corresponding Anime Realms, Levels, and characters), and some basic sample Widgets like the invisibility cloak, hover skateboard, and personal supercomputer.
The latter two sections might seem the more practical of the three, but I found the first section to be the most valuable and insightful. Aside from valuable tips for using “stage direction” to make a game session feel like an anime – applying such things as classing anime visuals, sound effects, and scene framing techniques – the section takes a fascinating look at what differentiates the traditional team-playing anime hero from the lone bad-ass most familiar to Western audiences. In addition, it explores the lingering impact of World War II on anime, which traditionally features reluctant, war-hating heroic warriors battling gleefully warmongering villains.
Style
I’m generally not all that keen on anime-style art, which can’t help but bias me against the art in RandomAnime. Even taking that into account, however, the art still struck me as sub-par overall. The cover’s a big exception, with its eye-catching collage of anime “screens.”
The writing seemed clear, if a little dry. The fiction opening each chapter and used for rules examples throughout the book follows the adventures of the “Super Sparkle Tenku Knights,” about some athletic kids who get sucked into a fantasy world in a manner reminiscent of the Dungeons & Dragons cartoon and find themselves endowed with powers related to their respective sports. I found the whole thing silly and irritating, but then, it’s based on just the sort of anime that I find silly and irritating.
From an organizational standpoint, the book does a reasonably good job of presenting overviews followed by specifics. However, character creation includes a few too many tripwires that force players to go back and re-calculate the points they have to spend based upon Background choices and the like. And, as previously mentioned, the Gimmick list desperately needs a summary table. Names like “Catfish Playground” may be cute and genre-appropriate, but they’re a serious pain in the ass when players have to check out the entries just to see if they have anything to do with the ability they have in mind. (For the record, Catfish Playground provides water-breathing powers.)
Finally, the book features a comprehensive index.
Conclusion
I can’t really agree with the book’s front-cover assertion that it is “The Definitive Anime Role-Playing Game.” The limitations arising from highly specific Gimmicks – albeit in large numbers – render the game too inflexible for it to be that.
Also, while I’m fine with the basic mechanic, I didn’t really find the rules as a whole to my liking in the end, based upon some design decisions with which I simply don’t agree.
However, this is a very complete one-book game for a reasonable price, combat is as fast as advertised, and the game does manage to create a distinctive anime feel. If you’re willing to work within the framework it provides, and if the various rules quirks I’ve described don’t bother you, then it might be your “Definitive Anime Role-Playing Game.”
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