Most people so far in some threads criticize certain fighting games of having “Comeback Mechanics” such as BlazBlue, SSF IV and Marvel vs Capcom (all versions), and that games like these or the Comeback Mechanics spoils the game. Some say that KOF XIII does not have that mechanic. When I look at BlazBlue I can see the argument in the comeback and I do think that it’s somewhat a curse seeing all the work one put in to smash they’re opponent then one mistake it’s all over due to a 50 piece combo and same with Marvel, which is why I somewhat lean toward KOF fans when they give it props that you just can’t get away with something that cheap and walk off with a victory that you didn’t work for but because of having stocks of supers and ultras two half circles punch and your done. Though I will defend KOF XIII by saying that most of the supers don’t take that much damage and that you do need to link it with combinations and cancels and that supers in KOF XIII is more of a tool and much less needed because you have so many other options that you use your levels for in that game. But hasn’t Comeback Mechanics always been part of fighting games? Is it needed or is it a curse to the fighting community? I like to hear from you and some gaming examples of comeback mechanics that’s deemed cheap or needed thanks for replies. (to SRK please move this thread to fighting discussion.)
Fighting Game Discussion: Real, A rumor, or just above GD?
Bud, there are 3 marvel vs capcom games, hence why it’s called marvel vs capcom 3. Only 3 is the one with a “comeback mechanic.” I’m pretty sure no one in their right mind is going to say they are necessary so why make such a stupid thread?
Since when does blazblue have a comeback mechanic? Do you even know what a comeback mechanic means?
The stupidity of the OP is astounding.
Combos are comeback mechanics. Those things need to go.
I stopped right there…realizing you don’t know WTF you are babbling about.
The fact you posted in the wrong subforum should’ve been a giveaway though…
Nope.
It gives you meter at a slow pace when you’re low on health. It’s a comeback mechanic but it’s pretty tame and doesn’t really affect the game that much.
Notice the request to move it.
Well then…
That’s stretching it a lot. By your own admission it doesnt affect gameplay much if at all; I’m reluctant to consider it a comeback mechanic.
Stuff like Rage or X-Factor that allow you to just blow people up for almost no reason would be more appropriate.
Ok, the thread is stupid, but have any of you even played Blazblue?
Meter regen below certain life threshold and burst being restocked by losing rounds sounds like comeback mechanics to me.
As for Marvel, yes, ALL VERSIONS, getting meter for being hit sounds mighty comebackish.
I appreciate it’s cool to be elitist and jump down every new member’s throat, but at least learn your shit and think about your insults before throwing that shit around.
On topic: I don’t think all comeback mechanics are bad, it’s nice to have tense matches, however, I do think X-Factor is the most extreme example and stupidly implemented one I’ve seen in any game.
The rate of meter gain isn’t very high, practically negligible really. I can’t think of a match I had or saw where it actually made a difference. Yeah, you can call it one b/c of how it works, but… c’mon.
Burst system is NOT a comeback mechanic.
You get meter for getting hit in damn near every fg… and really, trying to lump that in w/ things like XF?
Well it sounds like you are wrong. How does getting some meter for taking a beating even equate to doings tons more damage, health regen, and not taking any chip damage? I haven’t even played Ultimate but I assume x factor is just as retarded there as well. Totally ludicrous.
Comebacks in MVC2 were fucking beautiful to watch. They took real skill and meant something.
Comeback mechanics and this thread are cursed, fucking tools, and isn’t needed. 
This thread was flawed so…I’m gonna add something worth while to it.
Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking
By Walt Whitman
ut of the cradle endlessly rocking,
Out of the mocking-bird’s throat, the musical shuttle,
Out of the Ninth-month midnight,
Over the sterile sands and the fields beyond, where the child
leaving his bed wander’d alone, bareheaded, barefoot,
Down from the shower’d halo,
Up from the mystic play of shadows twining and twisting as if they
were alive,
Out from the patches of briers and blackberries,
From the memories of the bird that chanted to me,
From your memories sad brother, from the fitful risings and fallings I heard,
From under that yellow half-moon late-risen and swollen as if with tears,
From those beginning notes of yearning and love there in the mist,
From the thousand responses of my heart never to cease,
From the myriad thence-arous’d words,
From the word stronger and more delicious than any,
From such as now they start the scene revisiting,
As a flock, twittering, rising, or overhead passing,
Borne hither, ere all eludes me, hurriedly,
A man, yet by these tears a little boy again,
Throwing myself on the sand, confronting the waves,
I, chanter of pains and joys, uniter of here and hereafter,
Taking all hints to use them, but swiftly leaping beyond them,
A reminiscence sing.
Once Paumanok,
When the lilac-scent was in the air and Fifth-month grass was growing,
Up this seashore in some briers,
Two feather’d guests from Alabama, two together,
And their nest, and four light-green eggs spotted with brown,
And every day the he-bird to and fro near at hand,
And every day the she-bird crouch’d on her nest, silent, with bright eyes,
And every day I, a curious boy, never too close, never disturbing
them,
Cautiously peering, absorbing, translating.
Shine! shine! shine!
Pour down your warmth, great sun.'
While we bask, we two together.
Two together!
Winds blow south, or winds blow north,
Day come white, or night come black,
Home, or rivers and mountains from home,
Singing all time, minding no time,
While we two keep together.
Till of a sudden,
May-be kill’d, unknown to her mate,
One forenoon the she-bird crouch’d not on the nest,
Nor return’d that afternoon, nor the next,
Nor ever appear’d again.
And thenceforward all summer in the sound of the sea,
And at night under the full of the moon in calmer weather,
Over the hoarse surging of the sea,
Or flitting from brier to brier by day,
I saw, I heard at intervals the remaining one, the he-bird,
The solitary guest from Alabama.
Blow! blow! blow!
Blow up sea-winds along Paumanok’s shore;
I wait and I wait till you blow my mate to me.
Yes, when the stars glisten’d,
All night long on the prong of a moss-scallop’d stake,
Down almost amid the slapping waves,
Sat the lone singer wonderful causing tears.
He call’d on his mate,
He pour’d forth the meanings which I of all men know.
Yes my brother I know,
The rest might not, but I have treasur’d every note,
For more than once dimly down to the beach gliding,
Silent, avoiding the moonbeams, blending myself with the shadows,
Recalling now the obscure shapes, the echoes, the sounds and sights
after their sorts,
The white arms out in the breakers tirelessly tossing,
I, with bare feet, a child, the wind wafting my hair,
Listen’d long and long.
Listen’d to keep, to sing, now translating the notes,
Following you my brother.
Soothe! soothe! soothe!
Close on its wave soothes the wave behind,
And again another behind embracing and lapping, every one close,
But my love soothes not me, not me.
Low hangs the moon, it rose late,
It is lagging–O I think it is heavy with love, with love.
O madly the sea pushes upon the land,
With love, with love.
O night! do I not see my love fluttering out among the breakers?
What is that little black thing I see there in the white?
Loud! loud! loud!
Loud I call to you, my love!
High and clear I shoot my voice over the waves,
Surely you must know who is here, is here,
You must know who I am, my love.
Low-hanging moon!
What is that dusky spot in your brown yellow?
O it is the shape, the shape of my mate.'
O moon do not keep her from me any longer.
Land! land! O land!
Whichever way I turn, O I think you could give me my mate back again
if you only would,
For I am almost sure I see her dimly whichever way I look.
O rising stars!
Perhaps the one I want so much will rise, will rise with some of you.
O throat! O trembling throat!
Sound clearer through the atmosphere!
Pierce the woods, the earth,
Somewhere listening to catch you must be the one I want.
Shake out carols!
Solitary here, the night’s carols!
Carols of lonesome love! death’s carols!
Carols under that lagging, yellow, waning moon!
O under that moon where she droops almost down into the sea!
O reckless despairing carols.
But soft! sink low!
Soft! let me just murmur,
And do you wait a moment you husky-nois’d sea,
For somewhere I believe I heard my mate responding to me,
So faint, I must be still, be still to listen,
But not altogether still, for then she might not come immediately to me.
Hither my love!
Here I am! here!
With this just-sustain’d note I announce myself to you,
This gentle call is for you my love, for you.
Do not be decoy’d elsewhere,
That is the whistle of the wind, it is not my voice,
That is the fluttering, the fluttering of the spray,
Those are the shadows of leaves.
O darkness! O in vain!
O I am very sick and sorrowful
O brown halo in the sky near the moon, drooping upon the sea!
O troubled reflection in the sea!
O throat! O throbbing heart!
And I singing uselessly, uselessly all the night.
O past! O happy life! O songs of joy!
In the air, in the woods, over fields,
Loved! loved! loved! loved! loved!
But my mate no more, no more with me!
We two together no more.
The aria sinking,
All else continuing, the stars shining,
The winds blowing, the notes of the bird continuous echoing,
With angry moans the fierce old mother incessantly moaning,
On the sands of Paumanok’s shore gray and rustling,
The yellow half-moon enlarged, sagging down, drooping, the face of
the sea almost touching,
The boy ecstatic, with his bare feet the waves, with his hair the
atmosphere dallying,
The love in the heart long pent, now loose, now at last tumultuously
bursting,
The aria’s meaning, the ears, the soul, swiftly depositing,
The strange tears down the cheeks coursing,
The colloquy there, the trio, each uttering,
The undertone, the savage old mother incessantly crying,
To the boy’s soul’s questions sullenly timing, some drown’d secret hissing,
To the outsetting bard.
Demon or bird! (said the boy’s soul,)
Is it indeed toward your mate you sing? or is it really to me?
For I, that was a child, my tongue’s use sleeping, now I have heard you,
Now in a moment I know what I am for, I awake,
And already a thousand singers, a thousand songs, clearer, louder
and more sorrowful than yours,
A thousand warbling echoes have started to life within me, never to die.
O you singer solitary, singing by yourself, projecting me,
O solitary me listening, never more shall I cease perpetuating you,
Never more shall I escape, never more the reverberations,
Never more the cries of unsatisfied love be absent from me,
Never again leave me to be the peaceful child I was before what
there in the night,
By the sea under the yellow and sagging moon,
The messenger there arous’d, the fire, the sweet hell within,
The unknown want, the destiny of me.
O give me the clue! (it lurks in the night here somewhere,)
O if I am to have so much, let me have more!
A word then, (for I will conquer it,)
The word final, superior to all,
Subtle, sent up–what is it?–I listen;
Are you whispering it, and have been all the time, you sea-waves?
Is that it from your liquid rims and wet sands?
Whereto answering, the sea,
Delaying not, hurrying not,
Whisper’d me through the night, and very plainly before daybreak,
Lisp’d to me the low and delicious word death,
And again death, death, death, death
Hissing melodious, neither like the bird nor like my arous’d child’s heart,
But edging near as privately for me rustling at my feet,
Creeping thence steadily up to my ears and laving me softly all over,
Death, death, death, death, death.
Which I do not forget.
But fuse the song of my dusky demon and brother,
That he sang to me in the moonlight on Paumanok’s gray beach,
With the thousand responsive songs at random,
My own songs awaked from that hour,
And with them the key, the word up from the waves,
The word of the sweetest song and all songs,
That strong and delicious word which, creeping to my feet,
(Or like some old crone rocking the cradle, swathed in sweet
garments, bending aside,)
The sea whisper’d me.
If we can say that a ‘comeback mechanic’ is something which aids in comebacks artificially, ie., anything OTHER than pure player skill, then yes, those thing I listed ARE comeback mechanics. I’m in no way saying that the slow meter regen in BB is as bad as X-Factor, I even said as much in my initial post. Bursts in and of themselves aren’t comeback mechanics, both players have access to them, but you gain an extra burst for losing a round, allowing you a greater opportunity for a comeback. Again, giving you meter for taking a beating is helping you to make a comeback by granting you supers/snapbacks/etc. for losing rather than skill.
X-Factor itself isn’t even a comeback mechanic, it’s the fact that it gets stronger as your characters die that makes it a comeback mechanic. Just as meter isn’t a comeback mechanic, but when you get it for free for being beaten up, that IS.
How is it free if
- You’re exchanging LIFE and getting put in a bad position for meter
- You’re getting less meter than the guy who’s hitting you so there’s basically no advantage to getting hit?
By your definition, anything is a comeback mechanic.
Way I see it, a comeback mechanic is a mechanic that gives a player a real advantage for losing. Which is why bursts aren’t comeback mechanics. You get 1 burst at the start, and one if you lose a round. The player who loses is never at an advantage with the way the burst system is implemented in BB.
Now take SF4, where someone who’s at 10% health can basically kill someone who’s at 50% health with an ultra(otherwise impossible without using normal resources), or even someone who’s at 80% health with ultra+ ensuing mixup. That is a COMEBACK mechanic.
The history lesson that should be thrown in with this is that Super Turbo advertised Super Moves as a “comeback” mechanic directly on the arcade cabinets and during pre release tests of the game. Of course super moves were met with a similar controversial reaction that Ultras, Rage and XF were recently. Back then it was basically “if it gives you something new that you can’t get from the start of the round, it’s a comeback mechanic”. There’s old school SF players who swear by CE and HF simply because they feel supers are too artificial of a mechanic that impede the flow of the matches. They believe you should earn everything like chess. You are only rewarded with better positioning by positioning yourself correctly to begin with. Anything else is artificial and just given to you according to them.
There was plenty of topics about that during the earlier days of SRK and it was really an eye opener for me to see people consider something as trivial as super moves something that artificially affects the matches.
If you date back to Super Turbo…they put in these “comeback” mechanics because it’s flashy, keeps casuals interested and sells copies without having to teach people how to play at a high level of play. Allowing you to play more Capcom games to begin with.
This is why I prefer Skullgirls approach because they’ll only be putting in the softer mechanics like supers and none of the big momentum sway stuff that the newer games have. Their idea is to have a virtual training mode that basically shows you how to play the game so learn how to comeback by literally learning how to actually play the game and having the game even suggest what you should improve on.