Splatoon 2 is wise to leave that core unchanged, to avoid the temptation to try to make itself more elaborate to satisfy returning fans. There's depth in these matches, if you want it, but they sing as lighter fare, a candy to munch on for a few minutes every so often. This structure makes Splatoon 2 an accessible entry point for players who aren't familiar with shooters-and a fun diversion for those who are. Cleverly, the game also limits online multiplayer to two maps per day, feeding them to players via a slow drip of new environments over their first few days of play. What this means is that anyone playing is going to become conversant in the game's language fast. This has the crucial side effect of teaching you the maps quickly. (You travel via those ink-pools in squid form to get places quickly, as well as to reload your weapons.) That means a meaningful part of each match is spent shooting at, and keeping track of, the scenery itself: Making sure every wall, floor, and environmental obstacle is covered with your ink, and attacking opponents for the sole purpose of creating more space to mark your territory. Instead, they're won by covering the arena itself in ink the team that covers more of the map wins. Competitive matches here aren't won by killing-or 'splatting', as it's called-your enemies. It's so ingrained in the culture of shooters that we don't call them 'levels' anymore, or 'arenas.' We call them maps, and you need to learn them if you want to be a part of the conversation.Д«ut Splatoon makes this learning process central to the in-game action. In any multiplayer shooter, the stages in which you play are everything, and determine your experience and your performance if you're cartographically minded enough to internalize these arenas, you'll be better prepared to respond to your enemies. Splatoon's brilliance is in its pedagogy, the way its multiplayer maps worm into your brain. Repetition isn't entirely without merit in this case. No one ever really got the Wii U, and it never fit comfortably into the ecosystem of videogame consoles, but a game like Splatoon, with this much verve and originality, had the potential to save it. When the squid shooter hit the Wii U, it singlehandedly ushered in a brief revitalization of Nintendo's misunderstood console. Of course, all of the above is also true of the first Splatoon. These kids shoot ink, not bullets, which somehow transmogrifies the game's violent impulses into youthful mischief. And beneath that style is a thrilling, frantic competitive shooter reworked into a party game worthy of the Nintendo pedigree. It takes more joy in style than perhaps any other contemporary game, revelling in music and fashion its in-universe heroes are pop stars, not warriors. It cloaks its premise-a world dominated by children who can transform into adorable cartoon squids-in a broad pastiche of punk and skater subcultures. The sequel to Splatoon, the Wii U's surprise 2015 hit, is effortlessly witty, light, and fun. It's like a deathmatch designed by mess fetishists. I fling them toward my opponent, who bursts into their own shower of ink. Every shot delivers a hollow-but-not-entirely-dry plahh as it exits the barrel, and then a wet shloip! as it splats against a surface. Globs of that same ink cover the ground, the walls. In one illustrative sequence, I sink into the ground and burrow along a path of luminescent purple ink of my own creation-then burst back to the surface in the middle of an industrial arena and start firing my gun. Bless the sound designers and Foley artists who worked on Splatoon 2: the hypercolored team-based shooter boasts a squish-per-minute count that has got to be the highest in videogame history.

Hobby kids playing splatoon two