Bikou 2: Reversible Face

February 14, 2003
Author: Reverend Ragu
Computer girls can't say no.

Remember high school? Some of you are going to say “I'm still in high school! Of course I remember it!” In which case you are flaunting my dire warnings and are about to reenact that scene in Indiana Jones 3 where the guy drinks from the wrong grail and ages himself until he explodes, or you are in that fictional thirteenth grade that they made up so that all high school girls could be eighteen in the translated h-games despite their flat chests and elementary school knapsacks. If you're like me though, then your memory of high school is being eroded by tidal waves of hard liquor, hard porn, and hard blows to the head thanks to a relatively successful but short-lived stint in the Ultimate Fighting Championship. Despite that, though, there's still one thing that stands out: Getting fresh with the ladies. Ha ha, isn't that a knee-slapper? Naw, by "getting fresh with the ladies", I mean "getting fresh underwear from the ladies changeroom when they go out for gym class then wiping them all over my face." Ha ha, isn't that a good one too? No, really! I'm joking! was only once...

So we all know what it's like to gaze at cute girls from across the room, and maybe we even know what it's like to follow them around a bit. Perhaps we even know what it's like to track down their address and stake them out, mirroring their every movement and memorizing their daily habits. I mean, unless you were NORMAL or something, in which case I ask “what in the name of God Jesus are you doing here, Rico fuckin' Suave?” And while some still engage in these activities - Make sure you mention Ecchi Attack to the cops when they discover the collection of teenage love slaves in your basement! - Many of us have resigned ourselves to the lives of hermits after high school, and as such the closest we'll get to getting our creep on with the women is hanging around chatrooms and hunting the elusive a/s/l. So, while we may mourn the days of high school when no girl would ever talk to us, probably out of self-preservation, there's a ray of hope for even the most paralyzed social isolate. Japan has a solution to our woes, and it's every bit as awful as you could have dreamed.

Bikou 2: Reversible Face is an entrant into the new generation of shame-based electronic entertainment. With the shame that you have it in you to sniper old ladies in Grand Theft Auto, the shame of playing RPG games designed for girls who like to write stories on the internet about the lead characters getting cozy at the soda shop and also fucking each others' tender bung, or the shame that follows bringing a copy of Dead or Alive Beach Volleyball to the cute girl working the counter of the game shop, that particular emotion seems to have become the driving force in gaming. Bikou 2 was a pioneer of sorts, or at least a high water mark for this generation of games, that none have yet to surpass. Sure, masturbating to replays in DoA Volleyball is demoralizing, but can it even hope to come close to the feeling of frustration and self-loathing that comes with trying to negotiate the worst control scheme in the universe so you can rotate your analog to poorly modelled and heavily censored molestation sequences? Fine, I guess it's not as bad as BMX XXX.

Bikou 2: Reversible Face is the life-affirming journey of a vital young man whose bangs perpetually cover his eyes, full of life and hope for the future. He goes to school, watches hardcore porn, and stands in a corner ghoulishly and undresses girls with his eyes, just like any other Jouji Sixpack. He occasionally has problems with the ladies, and honestly, who doesn't? For some reason, the ladies are scared shitless of the shifty guy who trails them like their shadow, and he can't fathom why. What does a guy have to do to get these girls to notice he's really a sweet and sensitive guy? Why, stalk them around like a pale, out of shape Solid Snake and sexually assault them, that's what he has to do!

Broken, hopeless, possibly male, and WAITING FOR YOUR CALL
The game starts when we pick our favorite of the flimsy female archetypes that inhabit this magical land of milk and molestation. There's some notable absentees this time, though: The game seems to be lacking the glasses-clad sempai-spouting shy girl, the kendo-wielding shinto priestess, and the AAA-cup "She swore she was eighteen!" obligatory pink-haired jailbait. Did they develop a nasty case of originality? Nah, they just didn't want to come up with the extra models. What we're left with are four easily manipulated schoolgirls and an office lady. Oh, but one of them jogs! One of them is a shoplifter! Well, just great. Instead of amalgamating the generic schoolgirls into one uberschoolgirl, we're left with these mere crumbs of the full schoolgirl experience. Oh, and an office lady. Nothing better than trying to seduce a despirited thirty year old sweeping aside her crushed dreams and settling herself into a life of drudgery and sexual harassment! HOT.

But let's forget about this for a second to focus on one of the few good points of the game: The selection screen is a fully rotatable aether-world of dancing girls. Here, the graphics are lovely, and without the difficult proposition of having to actually step out of place, the animation isn't too bad either. Plus, you can pan down and zoom up their skirts, not that I'D try something like that. I'm in this purely for the purposes of psychological study, you know, coming to grips with the dark side of our personalities blah blah blah okay we can get to the guilty deviant sex now.

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