Do you remember your first kiss? I was eight and in love … with my NES. I met a girl – she didn’t play many games but loved watermelon. We held hands for a bit and kissed in the back of a minivan, and parted ways before dinner. It was a busy day, to say the least. I almost didn’t have enough time to play Zelda before reruns of Saved By The Bell came on.*

That little bit of information, while insignificant on its surface, is relevant to what could be described as PlayStation 2’s most unusual game: Chulip. Designed to be an RPG that isn’t really an RPG, Chulip is a story about the highs and lows of meeting the love of your life. She’s a young, sassy girl with no interest in the main character. “Not my type,” she says. An attempt to kiss her results in a painful slap, breaking the main character’s heart.

(Time to pull that Guitar Freaks controller out of my closet. I hear a song coming on…)

Since the two potential lovebirds are to be named by the player, I’ll refer to them as Danny and Dana. Danny, a young teen being raised by his father, has just moved to Long Life Town. He’s quiet but outgoing, and will soon discover that he can win the heart of his dream girl.

But he won’t earn her affection by killing a fire-breathing monster. (There aren’t any to kill.) He won’t widen her pupils by wielding a magical sword. (He has no powers, nor the use for any weapon.) He won’t save her from a dangerous situation, or protect the world from a crashing meteor. He won’t perform any of the courageous RPG tasks.

He will, however, talk to as many NPCs (non-playable characters) as possible to complete a farrago of citywide tasks. In doing so Danny will learn that he does not need brute force to be a hero. He does not need to triumph over evil to prove he’s a worthy man. To prove his love to Dana, there is just one thing he must do: kiss every NPC who will let him sneak a smooch.

Despite being a more original idea than the “destroy a monster, save the princess” premise found in most RPGs, Chulip is going to have a tough time winning gamers’ hearts. Its concept is not only convoluted, but also a little gross. Do you know how many germs the human mouth contains? It’s not like his prospects are the women of Desperate Housewives. Yeah, some are housewives. But they are not the prettiest game characters. I’d rather swap spit with Princess Peach.

Love is in the air – and cooties, run!

On the gameplay side, you’ll be kissing characters as easily as you would cast a spell in a real RPG. To lock lips, simply walk up to a character and press the triangle button. If the kiss fails to connect and is followed by an angry retaliation (usually a punch to the nose), you have failed to meet the kiss requirements.

Kiss requirements generally involve the completion of a generic RPG task: walk around, peruse the world (an icon appears over all examinable objects), talk to NPCs, and peruse the world again. Do this repeatedly until there appear to be no more options, then try another smooch. If lips still aren’t locking, there must be something you missed. Or it could be that you’ve approached the character at the wrong time. It’s not crystal clear when a kiss is appropriate – I guess that’s part of the intended challenge. But it doesn’t amount to much more than a guessing game.

When you get hit for kissing at the wrong time, one or more points will be taken from your heart meter. This is the game’s sole form of action, but you can’t retaliate – not even when a rabid dog or crazy boxing man commits assault and battery. (While kissing is not specific to one gender, all forms of assault are saved for the male characters.)

Your heart meter is restored at home by Danny’s father, who informs you – while speaking in the third-person – that he loves you no matter what. Games are saved by going to examining the family toilet, to which his father notes, “You should go to the bathroom sometimes to freshen up.”

Love letters, sent to Dana with the hope of becoming her “type,” contain messages along the lines of:

“Dear Dana. I love you. I really love you. Please give me a kiss the next time we meet.”

What could possibly be in this trash can?

If you’re not intrigued by now, you never will be. Chulip, while more daring and original than the mountain of RPG garbage being released, is not at all an entertaining experience. It could be labeled a dating sim, but there is no dating – just scavenger hunting, hours of backtracking, and really lame smooching.

*True story.

Gameplay: 4.0
There isn’t much of a “game” in Chulip. It’s like an RPG that has traded in its battles for hours of uninteresting conversations with NPCs.

Graphics: 3.0
Purposely unattractive for artistic purposes, or just ugly? When excuses allow games to be an eyesore, you wind up with bland towns, lousy character construction, and a severe lack of animation. The characters – who are about as ugly as game characters can get – do nothing to pull you into the story. Curiosity, a love of unconventional gaming, or the dream of virtual companionship, are about the only things that will hook players.

Sound: 6.0
Strange. Very strange. At times the music is hypnotic; other times it sounds like a religious hymn. The gibberish voice work is reminiscent of The Sims’ garbled communication.

Difficulty: Easy
One of the easiest non-RPGs around. The game feels like it was geared toward children. They might have been the appropriate audience overseas, but not in the States. American kids won’t have the urge to play past the opening text.

Concept: 6.0
An RPG that’s all role and no play. The journey is one of meek exploration and generic conversation. You’ll kiss more people than desired, crossing the line between eek and disgusting. It’s all in the name of winning the heart of the heroine, but that doesn’t make the idea of locking lips with townsfolk anymore appealing.

Overall: 4.3
Fans of slow and quirky, non-violent storytelling may be intrigued. But this is as required as acquired tastes get. Proceed with caution.