One of my greatest gaming feats ever must be forcing my way through this abominable action–card–role-playing game all the way to the end. Kingdom Hearts: Re:Chain of Memories not only sports a hideous title more befitting an email subject line; it also shamelessly retells and distorts the events of the first Kingdom Hearts, bundling them with the most infuriating combat system I’ve wrestled with in a long time.
Its release history is as convoluted as its design. Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories began life in 2004 as a 2D, card-based tactical RPG, exclusively for the Game Boy Advance. The remake, Re:Chain of Memories (2008), rebuilt the Game Boy game inside the original engine, allowing console players to catch up with the story canon.
The PlayStation 4 HD version I’m reviewing here—part of The Story So Far collection—is a remaster of that remake. That makes this the third iteration of the same horrible game. Enough already. This thing is unsalvageable. It makes me think of all the great ideas out there that never even got one honest chance.
You once again control Sora, the Keyblade-wielding boy who saved the world from darkness in the first Kingdom Hearts. Alongside Donald Duck and Goofy, he ascends Castle Oblivion, a place ruled by the esoteric Organization XIII. Castle Oblivion is “where you go to forget, only to remember.” Conveniently, Sora’s memories of his friends and his original quest begin to fade.
If the gameplay were even remotely enjoyable, I might have entertained the idea that this is all metaphorically profound. Instead, it feels like a lazy narrative excuse to recycle content. Sora “forgets” the events of the first game so that the player can be forced to relive them yet again.
Most floors of Castle Oblivion contain worlds lifted straight from the original Kingdom Hearts, giving Square Enix opportunity to recycle enemies, environments, and assets. Only the final stretch introduces new material, hastily layered on to justify the whole ordeal. The longer it goes on, the more it insists that this was the plan all along, that memory loss has deep philosophical meaning, and that forgetting is somehow essential to growth.
I wish I could forget this game, so that I could grow an inch.
As the second entry in a series, this framing is particularly misguided. Much of what happens is an extended recap of events the player remembers perfectly well. Watching Sora, Donald, and Goofy struggle to recall things you just experienced is frustrating. Combined with the atrocious combat, the whole experience feels like either a parody of the first game or a scrapped prototype that somehow slipped through.
The game’s most infamous feature is its real-time card-based combat system. It requires you to constantly flick your gaze between multiple points on the screen. It’s less a battle system than an endurance test for your eyes. If your vision starts to blur, it’s not because you forgot to blink—it’s because your eyeballs are sweating from the sheer volume of forced saccades.
Combat pits your deck against the enemy’s. Cards represent attacks, magic, and items, each assigned a numerical value. When attacks collide, the higher value nullifies the lower. Chain up to three cards and you can unleash powerful combinations called “sleights,” which are mandatory if you want to win boss fights.
Now imagine juggling a deck of 20–40 cards in real time, while monitoring enemy cards, positioning yourself in an arena, and dodging area-of-effect attacks. If that doesn’t sound overwhelming, you may want to consider a career in air-traffic control.
To be fair, this system is faithfully ported from the Game Boy Advance original, whose technical limitations couldn’t support the action combat of the first Kingdom Hearts. But that doesn’t excuse its inclusion here. What might have been tolerable on a small handheld screen collapses entirely on a large TV. Square Enix should have scrapped the real-time combat altogether or reworked it into something automated or turn-based.
Combat isn’t the only thing cursed by cards. The entire game is built on them. To progress through Castle Oblivion, you must assign “room cards” that dictate layout, enemy density, and difficulty. The only reliable way to acquire these cards is by fighting enemies, turning grinding into a necessity.
Leveling up is quick but mind-numbingly dull. Each level offers a choice: more hit points, more card points, or a new sleight. Since you’re helpless without cards, anything other than card points feels like a wasted level.
As a final insult, Re:Chain of Memories is brutally difficult until you discover the handful of broken strategies that trivialize it. The game lives or dies by deck construction. Spamming the same overpowered chains becomes mandatory, turning room after identical prefab room into a slog of pure monotony. Efficiency becomes the only mercy.
Until you crack the system, expect some of the most aggravating difficulty spikes imaginable. The engine was never good at platforming. Still, precise jumping is required, even during certain boss fights. Now combine card management, enemy counters, area hazards, and floaty platforming controls, and you have a recipe for some of the most infuriating encounters I’ve ever endured.
The only thing that kept me going was the promise of writing this review. In hindsight, I can’t believe I stuck it out. I know from experience that the next entry, Kingdom Hearts II, is actually good. After surviving this disaster, I’m bound to appreciate it even more.
So at least Re:Chain of Memories gave me that. Now please sod off back into Oblivion.
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