RL Crz On The Strange Existential Serenity of Bomb Rush Cyberfunk | Winter Spectacular 2023
It’s odd when you hear someone say that a piece of media saved their life, but the more I think about my time playing Bomb Rush Cyberfunk, the more I can kinda understand that. Kinda.
Yes, I see how silly that sounds. The wojackfication of this opener is not lost on me. But when I look back at the past 11 months in the Year of Our Lord 2023, most of it can be summed up with that one word: lost. Lost until I felt I kinda wasn’t. Kinda.
To give some context: in the two years since I graduated college, I got repeatedly laid off from three of the biggest jobs I could ever get in my post-undergrad life, with the most recent two (a staff writer and an assistant at a popular sports radio show) abruptly ending just before this past June. While it wasn’t the end of the world, I’d be lying if I didn’t think that the way those jobs turned out left me hurt and confused. I’d hit the point in my early 20s where I realized how terrifying(ly broke) it is to be in your early 20s. Now I’m far removed from that period of time. I can look back at it and briskly write it off as a moment where I had to move on and figure my shit out. But it took time for me to learn that, and I have Bomb Rush Cyberfunk to thank.
The wave of unemployment gave me a ton of downtime to reflect, which naturally meant that it also gave me a ton of time to play video games all day. When I found myself jumping onto BRC when it launched on Switch in mid-August, I expected to get exactly what I thought was promised to me: a grindin’ and stylin’ platformer that was hopefully a bit more than just We have Jet Set Radio at home. The trick moves were faster, the music was cooler, and the vibes (a noun that can also accurately describe the entirety of the game's purpose) were simply immaculate; something I craved desperately to remedy my uncertainties in my then-reality. I could’ve been content with its colourful cast and relaxing gameplay and call it a day, but there was something to the game’s bonkers story that hit me in a way I didn’t expect.
Bomb Rush Cyberfunk is a game about finding yourself, as much as it’s a game about holding onto a BMX high score while jamming to funky beats. You play as Red, a cel-shaded graffiti writer who joins the up-and-coming Bomb Rush Crew to take on the five rival gangs in New Amsterdam and claim the title of All City. He’s also technically Faux, the guy you start the game as who loses his memories after getting decapitated with vinyl discs by someone called DJ Cyber (the tip of the iceberg for the truly wild plot that follows). When Red/Faux comes back to life via Cool Robotic Dismembered Head Transplant, he has to outclass the gangs with the crew so he can remember his past as Faux and discover his new, true self as Red. While the premise might sound a little heady (couldn’t help it), the reasoning behind setting the two halves of the lead apart is more mediative than you’d think.
Alongside the game’s mostly chill atmosphere and its superb creative direction, there is a sense of looseness can also be felt throughout its unique approach to the story’s central archetypes. You have Tryce and Bel, the other two crew members in Bomb Rush who help you along this journey. Both come off as welcoming and open supporters with their own unique quirks (like Tryce’s blunt one-liners when talking to sketchy people, or Bel’s obsession with her phone). They’re alert and reactive when they need to be (especially when dealing with the cop combat sections of the game), but when it comes to dealing with Red’s strange dilemma they just tag along and open to him exploring his new place in life.
There’s a moment early on where Bel tells Red that he can never be the same person he was before, partly because of his missing head, but also because that chapter in his life is figuratively over for him. While he still has to find his past memories to understand why he was targeted in the first place, it’s all a means to learn and have a better understanding about what he can do in his present. While that isn’t something I gathered completely from just one cutscene, the message was really brought home thanks to the game's dreamworld sequences: A comforting wake-up call in abstract form.
After every successful crew battle, the game cuts to a scene where Red instantly suffers a mental breakdown and passes out. This shifts to a mission where Red has to find a piece of himself again by rolling past these vivid, lava-lamp-core mindscapes. There’s some whale riding, floating buildings, and spiralled signs you could shred up on Tony Hawk style, all culminating in a crucial bit of backstory that helps explain why Red was almost killed in the first place. To be brutally frank with you here, I don’t know what a lot of it could mean (this isn't Kojima we’re dealing with here), but I feel like it served as this calming break period that’s purpose isn’t held back by its subtlety. They are beautiful levels that for me captured the feeling of being lost and having to explore your mind and find yourself again; mind-body dualism built on the warmth and nostalgia of Dreamcast-inspired visuals. And while I was playing them, I realized that they started to resonate with me. It surprised me because I kept thinking about my own life. Not in the red-helmeted breakdance way, but becoming comfortable with living in your head for a minute, so you could figure out what you’re going to do next.
2023 was a surprising year for gaming. While we were blessed with another slew of the most polished titles the industry had to offer, a ton of people within the industry suffered from massive layoffs and company closures. It’s been hard for a lot of us, and in times when we’re in between the next step in our lives, we tend to find solace with stories that give us that burst of comfort, and maybe even something else we didn’t know we needed. Bomb Rush Cyberfunk didn’t really save my life, but throughout all its weirdness, it played a part in helping me figure out my life. That lax sense of riding and wandering throughout a world unlike my own, finding my own place within it. It helped in its own way, and that deserves the admiration I’ll forever hold with those wildin’ cats in the Bomb Rush Crew.
