Promise Mascot Agency: Zen and the art of Japanese mascot maintenance
As awful first days on the job go, Promise Mascot Agency opens with a disaster destined for the record books.
Yakuza lieutenant Michi starts by losing 12 billion yen in an ambush. Having been robbed of a fortune (along with his clan’s chances of brokering peace with its rivals), as punishment he’s zipped up in a body bag, bundled into a truck, and taken on a bumpy ride to Kaso-Machi, a remote Japanese town that curses criminals like him to a premature death. Instead of a shallow grave and a knife in the ribs, he's given a chance to pay off his debt by taking over his clan’s sole remaining business: a love-hotel converted to a mascot agency HQ.
Japanese mascots. Criminal drama. A rural Fukuoka open world. Nostalgic Showa-era vibes infused with the mellow tone and visual style of '70s Japanese cinema. It’s the giddily absurd follow-up to detective game Paradise Killer that absolutely nobody saw coming.
As Oli Clarke Smith remembers it, the location came utterly out of the blue.
“We suddenly got this email asking if we’d like to work with Ikumi Nakamura,” he recalls. Nakamura previously worked at Tango Gameworks as an artist on The Evil Within series and director of Ghostwire: Tokyo. “We said, yes, of course!”
Nakamura and concept artist Mai Mattori’s local knowledge proved as essential as their artistic talents for the predominantly British studio. “Nakamura suggested a deserted town on the coast of Fukuoka. That helped grow the concept from just managing mascots to exploring this deserted, run-down town—a different part of Japan than what you’re used to.”
Nakamura wasn’t the only big name to get involved. “We held auditions for some of the main characters and Takaya Kuroda, the voice of Kazuma Kiryu, turned up because his agent sees a call for a Yakuza lieutenant and goes ‘I've got just the person,’” says Clarke Smith, warning not to expect a mere repeat of the longtime Like A Dragon protagonist. Kuroda adopts a regional Hakata accent, playing a younger and less stoic character in Michi, with more room to grow.
Mascot maven in a forgotten town
Promise Mascot Agency’s core management loop follows a classic structure: hire and upgrade mascots to rent out to local businesses for store openings, civic engagements, and other occasions. Build and expand your business, keep your employees happy, and earn more revenue than your outgoing expenses.
Accident-prone as the most sugar-crazed toddlers, mascots need equally diligent supervision. After being assigned to jobs, they work an event for several hours while Michi continues to grow his business from his creaky kei truck. But when disaster strikes—say a tearful To-Fu gets stuck in a narrow doorway or yam-loving kitty-cat Trororo finds themselves chased in circles by a playful dog or a horde of bees—then Michi must intervene directly.
You solve these obstacles with a collectible set of hero cards, acquiring characters like Jose, a charming mechanic whose allegiance and friendship you’ve won (and can further improve by completing town quests). A strategy card-game battle ensues, a pumping J-pop beat providing the soundtrack as you race against the clock to resolve whatever problems stand between you and a delighted audience.
Nakamura’s location introduced a wrinkle to what could have been a straightforward path to mascot tycoon-dom. Successful businesses need flourishing communities, flush with cash for mascot antics. Rural Japanese towns like the fictional Kaso-Machi are withering, not flourishing, caught in an economic death-spiral as the younger generation is lured to the cities.
Michi’s enthusiasm (and broom!) is put to good use resurrecting the forgotten town’s fortunes, sprucing up neglected shrines and confronting a corrupt mayor who embezzled funds meant to rejuvenate its fortunes. Along the way, you'll unlock essential, stackable modifiers to buff your mascot activities and earnings. Michi is essentially Mary Poppins with a criminal record, sporting an arcadey truck capable of nitro boosts and spectacular glides instead of an umbrella and infinitely capacious handbag.
“You see new shops opening, new restaurants and new businesses flourish, and tourists come back because of what you do in the town!” says Clarke Smith. “That wasn't something we ever considered from the start, but now it's become this crucial thing."
A PS2 hangout game
Management games generally delight in overloading players with chaos—think Prison Architect’s rowdy breakout attempts or the relentless litany of medical disasters in Two Point Hospital. Clarke Smith says Promise Mascot Agency aspires to a more contemplative, zen experience…just like Grand Theft Auto. No, really.
When the team plays Grand Theft Auto Online, Smith points out that while the missions reliably serve up “chaos incarnate," the intervening lulls on a scenic road trip feel different. “It's a rich game experience where you're taking things at your own pace, determining how and when you engage with things,” says Smith.
That contrasts with new releases, which Smith often finds hyperactive, crammed with items to pick up and NPCs clamouring for attention. “It's exhausting. It feels like you’re high on caffeine all the time! We don't want to do that. We want what I call a PS2 hangout game vibe: you chill in the world, there's a bunch of stuff you can do, but no one is on your arse telling you to do it.”
The team at Kaizen found these nostalgic throwback hangout vibes in '70s Japanese cinema, with classics like the Battles Without Honor and Humanity crime drama series or the Lady Snowblood revenge films exemplifying a unique look and contemplative tone that characterized Japanese cinema of the time.
“They're from that era when scenes of everyday life and characters interacting are allowed to breathe and have space, and they've just got that wonderful soft look that you don't get anymore, like seeing old film stock footage,” Smith explains.
“Modern yakuza stuff like the Like A Dragon games have gotten crazier and crazier. Our game is nice and weird, but the story is still grounded in traditional Japanese TV and movie pacing and style," Smith continues. "It's full of weird mascots and the supernatural, but we're not like Yakuza Weapon, a film where they start firing at each other with rocket launchers!”
Mr Blobby versus Kumamon
The UK has a mixed record with mascots. In the '90s (well before the unlovable Wenlock and Mandeville from the 2012 Olympics), we had the misfortune of Noel’s House Party. The family entertainment show traumatised generations with a pink polka dotted monstrosity with bulging eyes, a disturbing clown-like grin, and a piercing eldritch scream: Mr Blobby.
Japan treats their mascots with more respect and affection. Crabtree remembers a trip to Kumamoto (with a fondness Mr Blobby never receives) where he saw Kumamon everywhere he looked, the beloved black bear now synonymous with the area.
“The thing with Japanese mascots is the seriousness with which they're taken,” says Clarke Smith. “Their mascot is there to promote a town, a product, a person, a location—and people don't think it's silly. Mr Blobby is silly and he's a figure of fun. We don't take mascots as seriously as they do in Japan. That sincerity and belief is core to the experience.”
For Kaizen, it was an excuse to go cute with designs like Ichigo Love, a pink bear with sparkling eyes and a tail curled into the shape of a heart. Nakamura and Mattori went creepier, adding to the game’s “tinge of horror” with contributions like Oh and Tosu, an idol who’s aged into irrelevance and a former scam bar hostess, respectively. And don’t forget Assistant Manager Pinky—the severed finger mascot serves as a grisly nod to a brutal yakuza honor ritual.
These aren’t people sweltering in stuffy mascot costumes. They’re exactly what they look like. “We're trying to imagine what it'd be like if yokai were trying to live in the modern world,” says Smith. “These little demons and supernatural beings trying to function in our society, what would they struggle with?”
Pop art pop-ups
One influence that jumps out is Persona 4. Along with the early Yakuza games, Smith cites Persona 4's sleepy Japanese town of Inaba (and its spate of murders) as one of the earliest virtual tourism games he remembers playing.
“They did so much with a realistic place and normal people living under the shadow of these strange occurrences,” he says. “That game did things with characters, its UI, and look that other JRPGs weren't doing. There was a real pop artiness to it, a real confidence to what they were doing, for such a late PS2 game that they knew wouldn’t sell what it should.”
The UI in Promise Mascot Agency mirrors Persona's flashy and distinctive look in many ways, delivering crucial information about your agency in style. Smith wouldn’t have it any other way.
“We don't like the minimal UI trend in games. It feels like people are embarrassed of UI and HUDS in games because they want to create cinematography. Well, if you want to create cinema, go and make a film! The player needs to know what weapon they're holding, they need to know their health status, they need to know all of this.”
They researched Showa-era music videos, television advertisements, and more without even thinking about Atlus’s vertigo-inducing UI designs and striking transitions, which make even navigating menu tabs a psychedelic joy. “Then when we put it in, some people started to think, 'Oh, actually we shared the same references,'” says Smith.
Intentional or not, they couldn’t have found better company.
Promise Mascot Agency is out now on the Epic Games Store.