If you want to play a game about Japanese idol culture, you'll find yourself mostly relegated to rhythm games. Tapping your way through stage shows, you'll occasionally reveal story beats and costumes, leveling up your cast of starlets and unlocking new performances. Given its lineage it should come as no surprise that Tokyo Mirage Sessions #FE is a wildly different kind of game, but it's not completely divorced from the likes of Love Live! or Idolmaster, either. From the basic language it uses in its menus to the costume changes available to characters to the presence of a Vocaloid-esque support character and her fans, Tokyo Mirage Sessions leans into its idol motif hard.
The side stories are actually the very best evidence of that. Unlocked by leveling characters up and progressing through the story, these short quests provide the opportunity for the protagonist to help his friends advance their careers and improve themselves. They're usually fairly straightforward tasks solicited through the in-game LINE-like messenger app — complete with stickers and the occasional snapshot of your best friend's crepe lunch — that lead to a face-to-face meeting with the (beautifully rendered and well-animated) anime pal in question. Side stories are easily completed in "Intermission" periods between story chapters, and in addition to providing a fair bit of XP and unique character abilities, nearly every one ends with a performance.
Sometimes that performance is a soda commercial that aspiring idol Tsubasa was cast in, or sometimes it's a fully animated promotional music video, or sometimes it's the stoic loner co-starring on an adorable microwave cooking show. They're all excellent little moments on their own that sell the game's theme exceptionally well, but many of them also become powerful "Ad-Lib" performances that will be spontaneously reprised in battle, much like Duo Arts. Ask Kiria to do a single-target ice spell and there's a chance she'll trigger an Ad-Lib instead, strutting up in a change of costume, delivering a verse of her latest chart-topper and decimating the entire cluster of enemies for no added cost.
Tokyo Mirage Sessions does occasionally gesture toward some of the more serious concerns facing young people in the entertainment industry. One character is unhappy about the way her biracial features set her apart as a novelty in Japan, while another struggles with the fact that her own tastes don't align with the image that made her successful. Unfortunately, these topics aren't handled in any real depth, and as interesting as it is to see something other than blinding, unflinching positivity in a game about idol culture (which absolutely has its dark side), these topics are all handled gently and resolved easily. Remember when I invoked Sailor Moon? Spoilers, but the answer is friendship. The answer is always friendship.
Sometimes Tokyo Mirage Sessions is obviously playing it safe. It's fundamentally a feel-good summer-season anime as much as it is a game, and in that sense, for every pleasant surprise, there was also something I definitely saw coming. But a degree of predictability isn't always a flaw. Good pop music can hold your attention and your interest even when it's following a clear formula. It hooks you and keeps you listening even if the lyrics are a little trite or the melody a bit predictable, because it's still catchy as hell. Tokyo Mirage Sessions is much the same. It's undeniable that there are elements of it that wouldn't have blown me away on their own, but the package they're wrapped up in is just so damn good that the occasional middling note is easily forgiven.
Let me be candid for a moment: Sometimes writing about games is not at all fun. Sometimes you want a night off, but you just have to put five hours into your review game or you'll blow your deadline. Sometimes you've had a long day, and lord, you are not in the mood to grind or take on that one tedious boss. Sometimes even an otherwise decent game can feel like an absolute chore. But every time I sat down with Tokyo Mirage Sessions it felt like a treat. It felt like the thing I'd let myself do for an hour before bed only after playing something far less fun all evening. It was always more like a reward, and that feeling never left me. It never even dimmed.