320c3f84766024a31544d28033dc10e93b814d85.jpg__620x349_q85_crop_subject_location-31579_upscale.jpg

Why I Love: Katamari Damacy's King of All Cosmos

[ad_1]

I can’t think of a single video game character who’s quite like the King of All Cosmos. And that’s not even taking into account his physical appearance: an impossibly colossal, regal father figure, with a head shaped like a rolled-up yoga mat and a crotch bulge rivaled only by David Bowie in Labyrinth (RIP). It’s more the fact that he’s such a strange, complex figure in a relatively simple series of games about rolling objects up into a gigantic ball. The King is somehow your main benefactor and primary antagonist at the same time, on top of being the classic archetype of the impossible-to-impress dad. My parents will probably read this at some point, so I won’t say I can relate, but… I can kind of relate.

Were it not for the King, the main crisis of Katamari Damacy would never have come to pass. It’s his fault the sky is devoid of stars, after he smashed them to smithereens while under the influence of pure irresponsible whimsy. He’s ostensibly got the same powers as God, and could probably summon those stars back into existence with a thought. Instead, he dumps the problem on you, the diminutive Prince who’s somehow able to keep a smile throughout all this paternal abuse. Before, during, and after each stage, he talks your ear off with staccato musings about constellations and the things that make life worth living. According to the King, he and your mother keep buying you presents, but oops, he lost them all. If you want them, you better go find them yourself, you loser Prince (something he actually calls you at one point, along with a whole catalogue of digs at your diminutive stature).