As much as I kind of hate its retrograde commitment to the classic boss fight, still I have to admire the “truthfulness” of Devil May Cry in allowing the numbers behind the image and the actual image itself to reflect one another. That giant-unborn-baby-guy boss is what he appears to be -- frickin' hard.
The Devil May Cry reboot has a number of things going for it: pretty good voice acting, a more interesting iteration of its protagonist, a continued commitment to absurd and grotesque spectacle, and some punishingly fun gameplay.
However, the game doesn’t exactly reinvent the wheel. The reboot iterates on previous ideas in the series, in many cases improving on those ideas, but then, there are the boss fights. And it’s 1989 all over again.
Enter the boss, that guy with the health bar that stretches across the screen and whose attacks hit you like bricks as you plink away at his seemingly endless supply of health. Oh, and “behind” that life bar is another colored life bar. Because once you chip away at that health bar, then you can do “true” damage, only then can you actually begin to hurt this guy. That is, until he regenerates the original life bar, so that you have to whittle it away again before getting back to “really” hurting him.