Why Tekken 7 is particularly poignant
Since Tekken 8’s release earlier this year, it has been a hard pill to swallow that Tekken 7 is essentially dead when it comes to its nearly decade-long run of community support and participation. This is a fallible trend that plagues the fighting game genre: that once a new iteration is released, its predecessor is deemed no longer worthy of playing, at least on a competitive level. And with Tekken 7 earning its stripes as one of the better-balanced Tekken's, along with its online-centricity when it comes to its main appeal (its offline content was bog standard at best) compared to the rest of the series, it’s even more bittersweet to see its once-thriving epicenter becoming so forlorn.
But that’s not the only reason Tekken 7 stands out (at least to me) as one of the most sentimental titles in the franchise. It has always been imbued with a certain sorrowfulness since its inception. The title that preceded it, Tekken Tag Tournament 2 (not counting Tekken Revolution), nearly put the franchise under with its underwhelming sales figures—exemplifying the franchise’s trend of dwindling sales with each iterative release and worse yet—marking as the nadir for Tekken’s legacy; therefore, Tekken 7 necessitated being developed on a shoestring budget, and with what I would have to assume was the mentality that this next project could very well be the series' last hurrah.
This is not to undermine Tekken Tag Tournament 2’s quality. It was a faithful celebration for loyal fans, especially through its single-player content, but its competitive scene suffered due to its overtly complex nature and it’s potential to bore onlookers with its drawn-out battles—exacerbated by its higher-skilled participants. (There were two health bars to taper off.) Skimping out on the single-player content in favor of a robust online mode was Tekken 7’s best possible move, breathing new life into the property (Tekken 7 has sold over 11 million copies following its console release!) This was many people’s introduction to Tekken, at least emically, thanks to its fine-tuning and refinement, which proved itself to be the funnest fighting game to play no matter your level of expertise. As a result, it resonated so much more with its expanded player base (which has hopefully moved on to T8).
I’m sure this triumphant comeback wasn’t Harada and team’s expectations, though certainly their hopes. A sigh of relief must have been shared among the team after such a despondent development. But it’s general vibe seems to be that of a final gesture if its sales quotas were never to be met.
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Hints at 7 being potentially developed as the franchise’s swan song are all the more apparent with the killing off of one of its longest-running driving antagonistic forces—Heihachi Mishima—in the finale of its story mode, “Mishima Saga.” Heihachi is cited as being Harada’s favorite character, so his disposal feels even more deliberate, as to say, if this was his last opportunity to work on a Tekken, he might as well provide some closure to the overarching story of the long-standing Mishima feud.
The closing track that follows, "Solitude," solidifies this tribute by providing the most gut-punching track in Tekken history. The song is an emotionally driven symphony of sombre piano keys that transitions into a bombastic harmony of synths—an electrifying piece that both instills a sense of sadness and power—a paradoxical, emotional rollercoaster that gets its point across effectively.
The track is multifarious by nature, as it has various different versions and song titles, so with that motif, I believe it has the capacity to be interpreted in different ways as well. It’s obvious intention serves as Heihachi’s eulogy, closing a chapter and ending an era (if not originally intending to be the end of Tekken in general.) But it’s much more of a powerful song when a layer of subjectivity is applied to it. Now remember, fighting games require a lot of the participant’s time and patience to learn all of its faculties; hence, the title, "Aloneness/Solitude,” points toward a recognition of all this time—more often than not spent alone—achieving such eminence and prowess once these players reach tournament/pro status. Intentional or not, it’s a nice sentiment to acknowledge its loyal player base for pouring everything into the game to achieve greatness.
Because of Tekken 7’s persistent popularity lasting from 2015–2023, this means the game was still active during the COVID-19 pandemic. Though a touchy subject, it is worth noting that this was statistically many people’s last Tekken; a harrowing realization materialized into such an emotional song. I understand that with that in mind, “Aloneness” can hit a little too close to home for some, but I hope through a different lens it can be tempered as a contemplative tributary to those who were the real fighters.
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On a brighter note, Tekken 7’s popularity also spawned the Tekken Word Tour, a nifty international competition providing competitors with the opportunity to compete online and offline to take the crown as the King of Iron Fist. The last tour for Tekken 7 was, in fact, earlier this year (sad!) In this very tournament, we got to see monumental highlights, such as Rangchu taking the crown in 2018 with Panda and Kuma, an idiosyncratic pairing (often seen as low-tier “joke” characters amongst the Tekken community). A shocking yet breath-taking victory that even left Harada in disbelief. A moment that will forever go down in Tekken history. A moment that can never be recaptured or replicated again in the same vein.
Though I’m enjoying Tekken 8 and think it’s a genuine improvement over 7 in some departments (particularly it’s abundance of offline content), it does come with it’s fair share of baggage. Tekken 8 was 3x the development cost of Tekken 7’s budget; because of this, the game had to compensate for this inflated cost by introducing a Fight Pass, or, colloquially, a live service (yuck!) to an already $69.99 USD-priced game. There’s also bugs plaquing some of the physics and mechanics that I can give some leeway to since the game only launched 3 months ago, though I must admit it’s not a good first impression.
Oddly enough, when considering Tekken 7’s decade-old reign, it still feels significantly more contemporary than its sparkly new counterpart. That being said, Tekken 8 is still shaping up to be an iteration that will be looked back on with fondness after all is said and done, but I know it will never compare to the magnitude Tekken 7 had earning its starry-eyed gaze when reminiscing.
