The Red Dead Redemption 2 of Visual Novels
Visual novels remain a divisive genre, even among narrative-heavy adventure titles. While many thought the genre was dead in the West, studios like Telltale Games and Dontnod reinvented the adventure game. New classics emerged, such as The Walking Dead, Life is Strange, and most recently, Dispatch.
Also, Western youth have become enamored with Japanese media over the last few years. Both anime and manga have seen surging interest, yet the classic Japanese visual novel still hasn’t managed to break out.
Adventure games typically emphasize storytelling over gameplay, but visual novels sit at the extreme end of this spectrum. Some even question if a visual novel is a video game at all, as they often feature little interactivity beyond pressing a single button to advance the scene. While this category hasn’t gained massive stateside appeal, two directors have captured a cult following: Kotaro Uchikoshi (Zero Escape) and Kazutaka Kodaka (Danganronpa). It was only a matter of time before the two collaborated.
A passion project born from the fever dreams of gaming’s most creative storytellers
The duo formed Too Kyo Games to develop a title that would serve as the ultimate culmination of their love for the niche genre. The dev team was infamously cash-strapped during production, even taking on major loans to push the game across the finish line. This news came as a surprise; visual novels aren’t exactly known for bank-breaking budgets.
Narratively, both developers excel at mind-bending plot twists and meta-commentary—qualities that define the Danganronpa experience. It is here that the duo deploys their most devious trick yet.
As gamers reached the end credits when the game was released almost a year ago (the reason it took me so long to get around to this review will become clear), the 40-hour adventure finally played its hand. In the final moments, it becomes apparent that you aren’t finished with this story—not by a long shot. The entire game serves as a prologue to something much larger. Suddenly, you find yourself thrust into a narrative that may last hundreds, if not thousands, of hours.
No spoilers
You take on the role of Takumi Sumino, a typical high school student who awakens locked in a classroom with a dozen others. The students discover they hold a mysterious power that awakens only when they stab themselves in the heart with a knife-shaped tool, giving them unnatural armor and weapons. With no knowledge of their situation, the group must defend the school for 100 days from “invaders.” The purpose of their mission remains a mystery that gradually reveals itself over the 100 days at Last Defense Academy.
The game’s art style and music borrow heavily from Danganronpa, a similarity the writers quickly use to subvert expectations. Battles against invaders play out via surprisingly competent tactical RPG combat. Despite one character’s insistence, this is not a “killing game.” Several students outright refuse to fight, even when defeat means death. Takumi’s first task involves convincing this crew of eccentrics to rally behind the cause.
From here, the game explores its central themes: the futility of war, soldiers as tools, and the poison of propaganda. Through the 30-to-40-hour runtime, players discover the darker secrets regarding their mission and their relationship with humanity. It culminates in a bombastic finale that subverts everything the player knew about the game world. And then, the real game begins.
Okay, now some spoilers
Look away if you intend to play this game. This section contains minor spoilers.
In the closing moments, Takumi and the Last Defense Academy emerge victorious, but at the cost of Takumi’s closest friends. Throughout the game, Takumi’s power allowed him to rewind a single turn in combat. During the finale, his powers supercharge. Instead of rewinding a turn, he rewinds the entire 100-day experience. Determined to save everyone, Takumi starts the entire game over.
The true scope of the game finally reveals itself. On this second playthrough, the game frequently prompts you with choices that branch the story. You might reveal to students that you are from the future, or sacrifice a character for a greater cause. Some choices completely shift the genre, turning the experience into a full-on romance or a Danganronpa-style killing game. With one hundred different endings, each route reveals deeper secrets that fundamentally change Takumi’s understanding of the mission.
The developers stated their goal wasn’t to force players to experience every ending—a daunting task that could take hundreds of hours. Instead, they believe there is no “proper” ending. You simply play until you feel you have enough information, or until you are satisfied with how the story concludes.
Alright, we’re done with spoilers
The bulk of the game follows classic visual novel fashion. You spend most of the 100 days getting to know fellow students through long dialogue scenes. You often have free time to craft gear, improve combat abilities, or give gifts to raise affection levels.
Exploration is limited; you’ll quickly learn to use fast travel rather than manually moving through the school. Occasionally, you’ll undergo exploration missions outside the school that are functionally like a board game, allowing you to gather upgrade materials by advancing along squares according to dice rolls.
Every few days, invaders attack. You must defend the school in simple but compelling turn-based tactical battles. While it looks like Fire Emblem or Final Fantasy Tactics, The Hundred Line feels more like a puzzle game. Attacks usually target multiple squares, and killing elite enemies grants extra moves.
The gameplay becomes a puzzle where you try to wipe out as many enemies as possible in a single turn. Unless the narrative dictates otherwise, you always play with your entire cast, though the game forces you to defend different sides of the school with different character pairings, insuring you can’t just rely on one strategy for the entire playthrough.
Thanks to an early plot device, characters cannot die permanently while on school grounds. Defeated characters return between waves, which leads to an excellent mechanic: a character can perform a devastating “all-out” attack that leaves them dead for the rest of the round but cant devastate the enemies army. This creates an addictive “give and take” system that remains complex enough to enjoy for dozens of hours.
Danganronpa in all but name
Despite having two directors, the tone, art, and music remain firmly in the realm of Danganronpa. The music alternates between eerie, off-putting jazz and eccentric pop at the drop of a hat. Fans will find it familiar, though it may be jarring for newcomers.
Artistically, the game features the cold, mechanical, and industrial environments typical of the duo’s previous work. The character designs are excellent; each student is immediately identifiable even in a tiny menu icon. Characters like Darumi, with her Joker-esque makeup, or Kurara, with her massive pumpkin mask, communicate distinct personalities just from their character art alone.
While the technical graphics won’t blow anyone away, the transition to 3D battles is well-executed and preserves the artistic charm of the 2D designs.
This is an incredibly hard game to recommend—to anyone
I have been screaming the praises of this game to anyone willing to listen, but it comes with a major caveat: this is not a game for everyone. It might not even be for every visual novel fan. This game demands commitment. If you start this, expect to spend 100 hours stumbling through mysteries and branching paths.
While the game includes helpful time-saving tricks—like opting out of repeated combat or exploration scenes—the sheer volume of content is daunting. If you do attempt it, heed the creators’ words: there is no “correct” ending. Play until you find the ending you want.
If you are willing to put in the effort, you’ll find one of the most engrossing and imaginative stories ever crafted. Its scope is magnificent, offering a narrative that could only exist as a visual novel. For years, fans will point to The Hundred Line as the gold standard for the genre. For non-fans, however, I offer an olive branch: sometimes it’s better to read about a game than to play it.
