In a previous blog post, Allen Liu analyzed how a completionist might toil away at Braid only to be disappointed with the lack of “a classic chivalric ending.” Rare’s Banjo Kazooie, a Nintendo 64 game made in 1998, might then be a classical example of a game designed to reward a completionist’s tendency to gather every item in existence.
The story: Banjo is a bear, Kazooie is a bird who lives in Banjo’s backpack, and both of them work together to save Tooty, Banjo’s younger sister; Gruntilda, a local witch, has kidnapped her in some beauty stealing scheme involving magic (and also a big scary machine).
The player controls Banjo and Kazooie as they jump, flap, swim, climb, and generally platform through a 3D world, visiting strange new places, learning moves from Bottles, and gathering resources to help them advance further into Gruntilda’s lair. Emphasis on gathering resources.
Everything that Banjo can pick up has a use, and each item, quite literally, wants you to know the instant you get it; when Banjo picks up an entirely new item for the first time, the item starts talking, telling the player what exactly it gets used for. “I’m an egg! Find Bottles to learn how to shoot me! Mmmmm, I’m a tasty orange… Me a Mumbo Token, find more to let Mumbo do magic.” As Banjo walks through various vibrantly colored worlds, the music always makes sure to fade away when he comes across a feather or a note. Every collectible has a unique pick-up sound, whether it be a springy piece of percussion for an egg or a tinkling riff for a golden feather (similar to but legally distinct from a regular red feather).
Building on that language, the game puts particular emphasis on the collection of Jiggies, golden puzzle pieces that unlock more of Gruntilda’s lair. Every time Banjo lays his paws on one of those, a particularly long riff on the banjo twangs in the background as the camera momentarily locks on to a celebrating bear and bird. Banjo and Kazooie can only find Jiggies after particularly trying tasks; cure a toothache for a massive mechanical shark/trash compactor? Get a Jiggie! Help a blubbery pirate recover his lost gold? Get a Jiggie!
Thoughtfully combing the world for problems to solve and getting Jiggies eventually go hand-in-hand after a few minutes of play in the first world. Players, looking for more of that sweet sweet puzzle piece, carefully climb every surface and swim in every hole to look for Jiggies. In turn, they come across notes, which can help them unlock doors in the lair, find Mumbo Tokens, and generally scour the entire level. Several Jiggies have multiple item-collecting dependencies built into the process of collecting them. Get some eggs to shoot a target, unlocking a door which you can only get to through flying (which takes red feathers). After that, you might run into some environment filled with hazards, only passable through the use of some golden feathers. After all that effort, you might find a Jiggy. Every resource in the game suddenly becomes more substantive as they all help Banjo progress in some way.
The player finds themselves in a loop: Collect as many items as you can in each world, unlocking new places to explore. After that, explore a new world, collecting as many items as you can! Everything is bright, Banjo’s on his way to save his sister, and every time Kazooie opens her mouth a meme is born!
… Wait.
There’s one troubling thing going on while Banjo does all of this: Tooty is still trapped somewhere. In fact, at the very beginning of the game, Tooty’s already getting strapped into the beauty-draining machine. As the player walks around brightly-colored beach worlds and surreal garbage dumps, Tooty shivers in fear in some strange metal chamber. Things take a more sinister turn when the player decides to save and quit. Every time they decide they want to take a break, they get a game over cutscene (it’s just long enough to make you feel like garbage).
If there is some kind of fundamental difference between “completionists” and “casuals,” I think something could be said for how they might play Banjo and Kazooie differently. As an elementary schooler, I remember struggling to acquire enough Jiggies to get by, barely having
enough to unlock successive worlds. Note doors confounded me, and I hated having to go back into worlds I’d already “finished” just to scrounge around. As a college student, I 100% every world, usually in one visit. Some note doors open up early, and it feels a little nice to see the menu fill up with 10/10’s and 100/100’s.
Maybe we can think like this: my life is stressful and I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s nice to have several tangible goals and meters to fill. It’s nice to know that everything I collect and learn will have a purpose eventually. It’s nice that I can put in the time and effort to do something and get encouraged and recognized.
Maybe we can think like this: my life is stressful and I’m doing so, so much. Why would I ever want to relax with a videogame that demands for me to basically collect everything I can and then block me off for apparently not getting enough notes in the last world? Why do all of these things matter so much? Why do I get punished for wanting a break?
Perhaps we could just not think, but then we wouldn’t have as much fun making these blog posts.
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