Videogame development is a complex beast, done by boffins who ideally understand the intricacies of both modern technology and the psychology of how humans play.  Gaming, as a pastime and hobby, though, is a simple, reliable experience.  You press buttons.  Sometimes you make a gesture.  It is that perspicuous conceit that has made it geek culture’s great gift to modern entertainment.  We can’t all be Serena Williams or Ayrton Senna, but many of us are fortunate enough to be able to manipulate buttons.  In the virtual realm, we can be as fast as Quicksilver, as powerful as the Phoenix Force.

All that it requires?  Press a button.  In the hands of even a mediocre developer, you’re jumping like Mario.  In the hands of a lesser developer, well…

More often than not, though, I find myself in a land of electro-dreams and nightmares, manipulating simple inputs to a few buttons, having myself an enjoyable time – albeit measured on a sliding scale.  Such was the case with a certain, recent demo.  I will preface this by saying that I haven’t finished Oninaki, and it seems ripe to only half-satisfy my wishes (yes, it is a candidate for Tokyo RPG Factory’s best game; no, it does not appear to be a GOTY-tier experience).  But I knew the reviews would hammer it before I even completed the demo.  Why?  The gameplay required some digging.  You hack, you slash.  You occasionally hit a “special” attack.  The depth for the special attacks are hidden in skill trees, requiring more hacking and slashing to unlock.  Once you do?  Well, like in most RPGs, you become a bit of a maestro of pain.  Soften foes up with a bit of slashing, position yourself well in a mob of enemies, then unleash your special.

Alas, since we can’t have nice things, The Smart Gatekeepers Who Are Paid To Write Things (™) parroted the dumbest of all criticisms in our hobby – “the gameplay is repetitive!”

I would very much like to have a more measured response to this, but….that’s a moronic criticism uttered by imbeciles.  Every time it is repeated, I’m pretty sure a puppy gets decapitated, or a nursing home set ablaze.  If you, as a writer, have composed a sentence affirming this critique, I happily invite you to ingest ice cream in a sufficiently rapid manner as to induce a migraine.

All.  Gameplay.  Is.  Repetitive.

In a shoot ’em up, you’re spamming the “fire” button and moving a stick.  Unless you’re like me and choose your own gears, a racing sim is a metronome-like cadence of accelerate – brake – steer (repeating your line is the point of setting a good lap).  Traditional platformers butter their bread with running and jumping.  Your modern COD-ified FPS has been distilled to “find enemy, ADS snap, shoot.”  Even a game noted for its combat depth, like Bayonetta?  You have a laundry list of combos due to the central hook being so damn simple – dodge, then maul your opponent.

Hell, I’ve been getting back into Monster Hunter, a franchise I adore and which is noted for its relatively opaque style of combat, but learning the Great Sword pretty much boils down to “wait for attack window – attack – run away.”

And it’s awesome!  Because repetitive acts, from meditation to masturbation, are pretty enjoyable.  As we do not live in the VR future (yet!), gameplay is nothing more than placing oneself in front of a screen and pressing buttons.  Attempting to make it more than that, to elevate the precious skill of “push stick, press X” to more rarified air, is a fool’s errand.  If you play videogames and like them, you enjoy a repetitive act.  That is no more or less valid than appreciating the repetitive act of Steph Curry’s jump-shot, or a reliable fry-cook’s fish and chips.

Oninaki’s gameplay is unlikely to elevate the game further beyond my expectations (they just made a great first impression with that demo).  But its combat is no less involving than any turn-based RPG, its movements scarcely more complex than every other game not named Pac-Man.  Perhaps those with a lower view of the game wish it had a more visceral connection from button-press-to-attack, or more variety in its beastiary, or better enemy A.I.

If so, that’s what should really be analyzed.  Breaking down what you don’t like about something is the fine art of Shade.  “Repetitive gameplay”?  That’s not a criticism.  It’s a fact of the medium.