This discovery changed my entire perception of Ikaruga. There was an order to the world that had been staring me in the face for hours, and I'd blindly ignored it. Enemy hordes suddenly had purpose. This wasn't a chaotic storm of enemies, but a beautifully constructed pattern of opportunity. Every clustered trio of enemies is a little gift from the designers. My fully powered up homing missile barrage fires twelve shots—an easy chain of four if I manage to eliminate dark enemies and leave white intact. The battleships in chapter one have eight broadside turrets, once destroyed the host vessel itself can be popped for a tidy triple-chain. The spare blocks in chapter one's block maze suddenly have a reason to exist—to think I'd left them unharmed for so long.
Most of the routes I'd learned so far helped me stay alive, but proved completely inefficient for chaining. I had to learn new behaviour and achieve a new level of finesse. I could no longer attack the level with a relentless stream of bullets. Some sections need a sniper, so I learned to weave into a pack of enemies and zap them with single shots, like dotting the i s on a dense, moving manuscript.
I came to realise that I am not good enough at games to do this. As you plunge in to chapters three and four, the bosses grow tougher and the enemies faster. I studied videos of Ikaruga masters, and saw a gulf in skill that was well beyond me. It was an education, however, in how an extra layer of challenge can have a powerful transformative effect on a game. Treasure managed to achieve that within the confines of an incredibly simple set of rules. I can only marvel at their skill.
Now, if you don't mind level design spoilers (Ikaruga has little discernible story), here's a full run of the game, completed by someone who is stupidly good at the game.
