Pipistrello and the Cursed Yoyo primes expectations from the start: a knock-off Game Boy Advance (GBA), cheekily named the “Pocket Trap Game System”, loads a cartridge of the title’s namesake into its back before presenting the main menu. A rather blunt nod, but Pocket Trap isn’t shy about these retro handheld inspirations. The Legend of Zelda and Castlevania titles of the era course through its veins, but the key, of course, is exhibiting a nuanced personality. As cool as it is, everyone’s seen “Walk the Dog” before.
Its first break from the norm comes at the beginning. Instead of a humble warrior divinely appointed to a Hero’s Journey, Pippit is only passing through to greet his rich auntie, Madame Pippistrello. The mere mention of her sends his taxi driver into a tizzy – even insisting on him not paying the fare. New Jolt City (NJC) is essentially run by a mob, and Madame reigns supreme. Fed up with her monopoly on the city’s power supply, the other members hatch a plan that will effectively kill her. In a desperate bid to prevent this, Pippit flings his yoyo in front of their contraption’s mysterious energy beam, encasing a portion of her soul within it as a result. Not quite the familial bonding he had in mind. The only way to fully restore her is to defeat those rival leaders and reacquire her four stolen Mega-Batteries.
Pipistrello’s structure will come as second nature to anyone familiar with classic 2D Zelda titles: top-down viewpoint over a rectangular chunk of real estate, limited health bar, segmented levels with respawning enemies, and so on and so forth. Pippit’s newly-cursed yoyo has transmogrified into a Swiss Army knife of sorts. For melee, imagine his standard attack as if Link’s Hero Sword were retractable and he can only fling it in four directions (north, south, east and west). For off-the-string ranged attacks, think of it vacillating between a one-use arrow or a boomerang depending on map layout. Finally, the leftover one-fifth of Madame’s embedded soul effectively turns her into Navi, interrupting for tutorial assistance, mission advice, or scolding her nephew.
These familiar combat dynamics bloom into their own by playing with physics. Take the standard attack: Pippit can hit an enemy a few feet away on his own; now litter the area with several connected right triangles in close proximity and his yoyo will continuously ping-pong against them like pinball bumpers. The same idea works for ranged moves as well. If all four room corners are “padded” by these triangles, it’ll travel along the room’s edge and right back to the initial throwing spot (save if any obstacle obstructs its flight path). Combine these alongside special charged attacks, such as yoyo flurry, and the ostensibly-inconsistent logic feels natural in expanding his moveset.
Though emulative of a handheld adventure, its form and shape feels more primed as a home console “Yoyovania”. Pippit and Madame initially find themselves hoofing it around NJC’s bottom half, given the option to go after one of two mafiosos: caloric fast-food sultan or devious building developer. Regardless of which is tackled first, reaching their inner liars is a dungeon unto itself; in essence, both respective quadrants are vast zones with underground networks and hidden goodies around each corner. Like any standard Metroidvania, a unique ability acquired in one specific zone will prove instrumental in acquiring certain supplementary extras (e.g. petal containers – eight in total to add another heart) everywhere else.
Perhaps its greatest design feat would be Pippit’s multitudinous movement and combat options all expressed through a continuously versatile item. Just as his melee and ranged capabilities grow in combat, so too do they expand in exploration and puzzle solving. Since the yoyo also acts like a sticky plate, a key or battery can rest on top while they’re picked up from a great distance or flying across the room. If there’s a huge ravine between a battery Pippit’s holding and the intended receiver, just aim and fling the yoyo across so it’ll fall right in. Said yoyo automatically returns after two seconds anyway. As puzzle complexity increases so too do navigational demands; between pushing off against a wall, grappling towards hook points, riding over deadly hazards, and more, Pipistrello has one of the most varied movement feature sets in recent memory.
It’s not just how each addition acts interactively, but also in how they’re thematically interwoven. Almost every new ability’s reveal corresponds with the dungeon in which it’s discovered. Why settle for Pippit learning to ‘yoyo-drive’ on water when it feels more freeing and dangerous to showcase him zipping across boiling fats and seed oils? The same ethos informs its multifaceted upgrade system.
First, there are the basics between Badges and Blueprints; the former rewards various buffs – like seeing enemy health bars, for instance – while the latter costs some money for cousin Pippo to create into a Badge. Past that, each Badge costs a set number of Bat Pouch (BP) points to equip, which is Pippit’s other meter below health, consciously assessing which ones to use. Pippit’s other cousin, Pepito, meanwhile helps manage his permanent upgrade tree, which comes with an interesting cost: debuffs (e.g. one less health petal) are attached with said upgrade until the “loan” is paid off. Now, half of all acquired coins go towards paying it off. It’s a great system in concept and execution. As the upgrades improve, and the debuffs get more debilitating, there’s genuine tension as to which ones to pursue first and when’s the best time.
Adding layers for its own sake doesn’t always equal a better experience though. The plethora of Badges with fun extras can reward creativity, but some ultimately beg the question of their utility. Why have Blueprints if their sole purpose is to become Badges anyway? Do certain Badges really need to cost so many BP points? Sure, paying Pippo reduces a badge’s BP cost, but it’s so negligible in the grand scheme. Pocket Trap’s goal to fill the world with goodies and maintain monetary tension alongside fail states make intuitive sense, but becomes overbearing in the long run.
Juggling so much stuff can also blind developers on simpler things too. The volume of new enemy types across each quadrant never relents, and most correspond with that area’s theme, but occasionally their placement can make the action feel a bit too busy. Given how hectic and time intensive certain bouts can be, occasional missed hit registration can sour the experience; that age-old disparity between certain enemies’ omni-directional aiming compared to the player’s quad-directional will always feel slightly unfair. Sometimes it feels like the default difficulty just wants to kick your teeth in; that said, generous difficulty sliders ranging from Pippit’s damage output to money lost per fail state will ease those burdens.
Busy as the action may occasionally be, it’s impossible to not become rapt in this world. From the domineering skyscrapers to the pleasant shopkeeps, Pipistrello and the Cursed Yoyo’s aesthetic succeeds because of its quasi-grounded world design. A floor layout littered with right triangles and open chasms is strange by default, but the background environmental detail is all immediately relatable and varied, which helps in mentally mapping out NJC longterm. Combine this alongside its vibrant soundtrack and colour schemes and it’s almost like unearthing the most polished GBA game. One particular quibble stems back to Pippit’s design; his teal body and dark pink jacket mesh appropriately, but the design feels somewhat confused. What look like ears are technically his wings (Pipistrello means “bat” in Italian), which throws off his dimensions compared to everyone else.
Confusion also creeps into Pippit’s story arc. Rodrigo Zangelmi’s script builds up a more nuanced world for this genre. It’s a city where the head honchos are sports-betting magnates or real estate developers using their newfound power for venal and egotistical purposes rather than ancient evils seeking domination. Even Madame is appropriately challenged for her role and ulterior motives by Pippit as time goes on – which she meets and weighs with her own motivations in tow. The cogs are in their proper place for a bombastic finale, which has impressive eye candy, but its perfunctory resolution suggests it could’ve followed through on its weightier instances.
For whatever moments when Pipistrello and the Cursed Yoyo’s momentum starts to waver, it knows how to set itself right. Like so many impressive Metroidvanias of today, there’s something uniquely special – an X factor – when that balance between combat, puzzle solving, and exploration is properly handled. Sometimes one aspect may take up more limelight than necessary, especially the excesses of plodding through for backtracking’s sake, but never to a flagrant degree. Whether through world building and game design, Pocket Trap maintains an impressive level of control that even few blockbuster studios can hope to match.
