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It reminds me of what urbanist Jan Gehl calls 'birdshit architecture', which is stuff that looks good from a bird's eye view or a rendering but is totally impractical in practice. Prime examples include gigantic plazas or lawns without any sort of trees or seating, so you can't really stay in them because they're too windy and the sun is overbearing, they're totally empty (and probably unsafe) as a result, and they just extend your walking distances.
Bonus points if the paths are totally fenced in because they're not where people actually want to walk and they end up trampling the lawn full of desire paths.
I agree I’d take your tradeoff if presented but I think the real world tradeoff is even sillier and more obvious than the one you propose.
Tokyo is an extremely organic city.
Typical Tokyo streetscape is heavy on modern blocky buildings, like this: https://sanpoo.jp/upload/yutenji-sanpo/yutenji_106.jpg
I would argue there is no strong correlation here. A city can be walkable and ugly, lively and unwalkable, beautiful and unwalkable, beautiful but not lively...
This is mostly meant to contrast to non-walkable spaces, where to walk to a store in an American suburb often means walking in a 3 ft wide path next to 55mph traffic and the crosswalks for said road are a half mile apart, if you’re lucky. The safe paths are circuitous if they exist and the pedestrian signals, if you can get a green one, may take minutes to cycle to and give you thirty seconds to cross 6+ lanes.
A school, playground, clinic, culture centre(which doubled as a movie theater and a regular theater), supermarket(s), pharmacy a dentist an indoor pool (still active, even though it's tiny) and several other things I won't bother mentioning because the list is already quite long.
But to me the most important part of that experience was that there was space between the buildings - green space at that - and the buildings themselves had mostly a total of four(including ground) floors, with a few higher units here and there.