Lapbunny
2024
There's a lot I could shotgun blabber about how much I adore Animal Well, but I think what's personally flooring me is Billy Basso's fluency here.
Back when I was a kid I developed an ironic phobia of computer programs acting on their own, and it manifested itself into a hilarious curiosity for games that really screw with player expectations and UI affordances - DDLC, Pony Island, etc. Very few seem to really convey that a jumpscare isn't the thing that's deeply unsettling; it's that gap between expectation of a game's rules and, by extension, the apparent limits. A game has a framework with discrete inputs, display elements, and sound effects, so to knock the framework down is a good "scare" and one that begs the player to wonder what else could happen. But to keep it going the length of a narrative requires deeper understanding of a player's mind once they're on the defensive, the ability to pace the novelties neither too slow nor fast, and the chops to keep that story memorable past a string of funhouse tricks.
Animal Well does it. It's not just that it's a fun puzzle game - I adore it because it's a puzzle game juxtaposing the jaw-drop when an item's depth becomes apparent against horror elements; a pixel art backdrop with worms that have two-sprite animations and bloop sound effects against a smoothly-animated, human-moaning death machine; simple controls and Metroidvania platformer gameplay against ever-increasing gameplay dimensions in a game smaller than many DS cartridges that has to have exhausted everything at this point to a home stretch. Right? No.
I think Basso gets that the childlike wonder we chase in video games is often unsaid, in our heads, or between the CRT scanlines. In his first attempt to show us this, he beautifully put it purely in the language of video game elements rather than through a lick of traditional dialogue. I love it, and I'm gonna devour anything he puts out next.
Back when I was a kid I developed an ironic phobia of computer programs acting on their own, and it manifested itself into a hilarious curiosity for games that really screw with player expectations and UI affordances - DDLC, Pony Island, etc. Very few seem to really convey that a jumpscare isn't the thing that's deeply unsettling; it's that gap between expectation of a game's rules and, by extension, the apparent limits. A game has a framework with discrete inputs, display elements, and sound effects, so to knock the framework down is a good "scare" and one that begs the player to wonder what else could happen. But to keep it going the length of a narrative requires deeper understanding of a player's mind once they're on the defensive, the ability to pace the novelties neither too slow nor fast, and the chops to keep that story memorable past a string of funhouse tricks.
Animal Well does it. It's not just that it's a fun puzzle game - I adore it because it's a puzzle game juxtaposing the jaw-drop when an item's depth becomes apparent against horror elements; a pixel art backdrop with worms that have two-sprite animations and bloop sound effects against a smoothly-animated, human-moaning death machine; simple controls and Metroidvania platformer gameplay against ever-increasing gameplay dimensions in a game smaller than many DS cartridges that has to have exhausted everything at this point to a home stretch. Right? No.
I think Basso gets that the childlike wonder we chase in video games is often unsaid, in our heads, or between the CRT scanlines. In his first attempt to show us this, he beautifully put it purely in the language of video game elements rather than through a lick of traditional dialogue. I love it, and I'm gonna devour anything he puts out next.
2024
I showed this game to my wife and I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm straight-up addicted to video poker.
This feels like it's missing an x-factor. StS or BoI have this feeling like anything could happen at any time dozens of runs in, and at least so far it feels like the Joker design could have got a little more zany to keep runs fresh or introduce brand new mechanics. They really just revolve around number crunching, and it gets a bit repetitive. Talking it over with a (math major) friend it sounds like the high card strategies are a little one-sided and really the only way to certain success. Standard card packs also suck. It definitely needs some balance tweaking, but as-is the (math major) crunch is still pretty fun. Plus the aesthetic is great. I can't believe the one song is so - wait, am I straight-up addicted to video poker?
This feels like it's missing an x-factor. StS or BoI have this feeling like anything could happen at any time dozens of runs in, and at least so far it feels like the Joker design could have got a little more zany to keep runs fresh or introduce brand new mechanics. They really just revolve around number crunching, and it gets a bit repetitive. Talking it over with a (math major) friend it sounds like the high card strategies are a little one-sided and really the only way to certain success. Standard card packs also suck. It definitely needs some balance tweaking, but as-is the (math major) crunch is still pretty fun. Plus the aesthetic is great. I can't believe the one song is so - wait, am I straight-up addicted to video poker?
1999
I'm just retooling a review from elsewhere with this, but I think it's the most I have to say about this game and this series.
Pokémon Gold, Silver, and Crystal weren't the best work Game Freak had to offer as video games. The Kanto region is a cool way to top the experience off, but once the wonder of stepping back into it wears off it's ultimately unpopulated and missing any real attractions past a boss gauntlet. The battle system doesn't push R/B/Y's too far forward. The low level curve is terrible to play through, evidence of the game's rushed and troubled production. And in a horrifically poor design decision so many of the cool new Pokémon are trapped in the post-game, robbing you of what makes a new Pokémon journey so exciting. Even from a music perspective, I'd maybe say Black/White had the objectively "better" soundtrack? It made the transition to a modern electronic style without compromising the Pokémon sound; G/S/C's soundtrack was merely evolution of a winning formula.
Despite the games' flaws, forum keyboard warriors have raved since the dawn of Web 2.0 about Gen II. Their battlecries bellow: "Gen II was the best generation!" "Stepping into Kanto will forever be the best thing in a Pokémon game!" "Gen I but better!" "Night/day!" The inane arguments rage into eternity. I know - I was one of those saps tilting at windmills on GameFAQs. But why? Why do we hold this inferior game so close to our hearts?
To other zillennials the hype for EVEN MORE POKEMON behind this game could be a ubiquitously happy memory of the pervasive optimism in the 90's and that '00-'01 bonus round that bred Pokémon before the everyday edgy brown grit aesthetics of the mid 00's were dumped into the media young nerds consumed. Nostalgia lets us regress to a younger view where Satoshi Tajiri's design didn't seem so escapist; a landscape of exploration, of collaboration, of unfettered freedom to blaze your own trail with friends. The notion that even when you think your journey is done, there's the rest of the world to discover - with even more to return home to! Maybe that's the shared siren song dragging us back to Gen II?
Nah. Here's a spicier take to snap you back to the present with alllll those feelings intact: every one of those emotions were firmly rooted in, and still drip from, the glory of the GSC soundtrack. Stop trying to farm upvotes on here or reddit about which generation is best, and go find a well-mixed recording of this soundtrack. Play it from start to end. Even if the nostalgia itself doesn't resonate, the ~117 tracks between these 3 cartridges are just as wonderful, majestic, melancholic, triumphant, eerie, tranquil, competitive, and satisfying today as they were 20 years ago, despite - or maybe due to - its primal simplicity. It pushes the GBC sound system with more dense and varied sounds and arrangements, emulating kotos and shakuhachis to paint Johto's traditional Japanese countryside style. The entire rearrangement of Red/Blue's soundtrack complements the Kanto backdrop, framing its sparsely produced map instead as a quiet country past its tale, events already transpired, its king atop its summit awaiting your challenge... Masuda and Ichinose stuffed all that emotion between the seams of 3-4 MIDI tracks, playing out of a piece of 90's tech for children. They nailed it. Is that not the coolest fucking shit? With the humble Game Boy sound hardware, it holds the narrative of the journey all on its own. But you still need to get those tracks to play back; the actual game, through all its flaws and imperfections, still pieces that magical adventure together.
This game is far from the best in the series, sure. I do not care. I adore it. There's plenty of things that I'm still fond of from my youth that I can maintain a critical standpoint on, but I'm long gone for Pokémon. Nostalgia and bias will always color the memory and emotions surrounding things dear to our young hearts, and for me that's less about the Pokémon series or games themselves - it's a dinosaur of a franchise that's always too afraid to invent instead of iterate in the chase for EVERYone's money. (Gotta catch 'em all!) My undying love for it stands instead with its stellar library of music; there is absolutely nothing that conveys the simple, kiddish optimism in the journeys these soundtracks tell, and it makes me feel forever young. Right here at Gen II is the peak of it, and even as a continuing, jaded member of the Church of Pikachu I doubt any other entry will ever have music that strikes closer to my heart than a lovely rendition of the National Park theme.
so suck on that, xx_SephirothLover1998_xx
Pokémon Gold, Silver, and Crystal weren't the best work Game Freak had to offer as video games. The Kanto region is a cool way to top the experience off, but once the wonder of stepping back into it wears off it's ultimately unpopulated and missing any real attractions past a boss gauntlet. The battle system doesn't push R/B/Y's too far forward. The low level curve is terrible to play through, evidence of the game's rushed and troubled production. And in a horrifically poor design decision so many of the cool new Pokémon are trapped in the post-game, robbing you of what makes a new Pokémon journey so exciting. Even from a music perspective, I'd maybe say Black/White had the objectively "better" soundtrack? It made the transition to a modern electronic style without compromising the Pokémon sound; G/S/C's soundtrack was merely evolution of a winning formula.
Despite the games' flaws, forum keyboard warriors have raved since the dawn of Web 2.0 about Gen II. Their battlecries bellow: "Gen II was the best generation!" "Stepping into Kanto will forever be the best thing in a Pokémon game!" "Gen I but better!" "Night/day!" The inane arguments rage into eternity. I know - I was one of those saps tilting at windmills on GameFAQs. But why? Why do we hold this inferior game so close to our hearts?
To other zillennials the hype for EVEN MORE POKEMON behind this game could be a ubiquitously happy memory of the pervasive optimism in the 90's and that '00-'01 bonus round that bred Pokémon before the everyday edgy brown grit aesthetics of the mid 00's were dumped into the media young nerds consumed. Nostalgia lets us regress to a younger view where Satoshi Tajiri's design didn't seem so escapist; a landscape of exploration, of collaboration, of unfettered freedom to blaze your own trail with friends. The notion that even when you think your journey is done, there's the rest of the world to discover - with even more to return home to! Maybe that's the shared siren song dragging us back to Gen II?
Nah. Here's a spicier take to snap you back to the present with alllll those feelings intact: every one of those emotions were firmly rooted in, and still drip from, the glory of the GSC soundtrack. Stop trying to farm upvotes on here or reddit about which generation is best, and go find a well-mixed recording of this soundtrack. Play it from start to end. Even if the nostalgia itself doesn't resonate, the ~117 tracks between these 3 cartridges are just as wonderful, majestic, melancholic, triumphant, eerie, tranquil, competitive, and satisfying today as they were 20 years ago, despite - or maybe due to - its primal simplicity. It pushes the GBC sound system with more dense and varied sounds and arrangements, emulating kotos and shakuhachis to paint Johto's traditional Japanese countryside style. The entire rearrangement of Red/Blue's soundtrack complements the Kanto backdrop, framing its sparsely produced map instead as a quiet country past its tale, events already transpired, its king atop its summit awaiting your challenge... Masuda and Ichinose stuffed all that emotion between the seams of 3-4 MIDI tracks, playing out of a piece of 90's tech for children. They nailed it. Is that not the coolest fucking shit? With the humble Game Boy sound hardware, it holds the narrative of the journey all on its own. But you still need to get those tracks to play back; the actual game, through all its flaws and imperfections, still pieces that magical adventure together.
This game is far from the best in the series, sure. I do not care. I adore it. There's plenty of things that I'm still fond of from my youth that I can maintain a critical standpoint on, but I'm long gone for Pokémon. Nostalgia and bias will always color the memory and emotions surrounding things dear to our young hearts, and for me that's less about the Pokémon series or games themselves - it's a dinosaur of a franchise that's always too afraid to invent instead of iterate in the chase for EVERYone's money. (Gotta catch 'em all!) My undying love for it stands instead with its stellar library of music; there is absolutely nothing that conveys the simple, kiddish optimism in the journeys these soundtracks tell, and it makes me feel forever young. Right here at Gen II is the peak of it, and even as a continuing, jaded member of the Church of Pikachu I doubt any other entry will ever have music that strikes closer to my heart than a lovely rendition of the National Park theme.
so suck on that, xx_SephirothLover1998_xx
I found this years ago because someone made a meme editing Christopher Robin over a Touhou boss, Pooh over Reimu, and baseballs over the bullets.
They were correct. S i l l y o l d b e a r .
They were correct. S i l l y o l d b e a r .
2007
Back in college I went through a pretty major identity crisis revolving around my ADHD. I quit my meds due to depression, but as my grades slipped I realized medication had filled many cracks in my life. How much of my academic success was me? Was I doing well, or was "I" just my medication the whole time? Did people prefer me more like that? Did I? Should I sacrifice some happiness just to get by?
My personal life events have absolutely nothing to do with Little Busters itself, but it sure as hell has something to do with my reflections on it. We sometimes miss acknowledging the force of timing in our observation of texts; certainly in this site's attempt to catalogue our perspectives, there's at least one game you hold dear to your heart because it reached you at an impressionable time over a describable objective quality, no? Our opinions can be more reflections our personal biases than a work itself, as much as we strive to find agreement or objectivity.
Don't worry, I don't think that's necessarily wrong. When we do acknowledge that we may be fond of works due to our vulnerability or relative youth, we don't need to concede that work to nostalgia. Something like Little Busters or Clannad may not have the greatest or most unique writing, translation, or prose; they're often limited by the crack fan squads trying to bring these translations over to us without the budget and rigor of a full localization team. But I think we should still vaunt a work's capability of affecting us in the right way at the right time. Mio's route shot through walls I put up for myself, and Refrain helped me clean up the rubble - that's it, and I loved it. I can't thank Maeda and company enough for reaching me and getting me through a really rough time in my life. Maybe it was because I was young that it affected me. But maybe when we're young we need a special kind of story to talk to us.
I find Little Busters to be stellar YA. If you're not going through that period of your life, then Little Busters is still warm, funny, and genuine; it has a fantastic soundtrack, a wonderful cast, an addicting minigame to shake up the common route, a sense of humor that bridges the language barrier, and a giant heart holding it all together at the center. For those who going through something rough or vulnerable, though, this may be just the little extra you need. Even when it's goofy or melodramatic - like everything by key - I can promise that it'll do its best to give you a hug, a pat on the head, and a nudge off to where you ought to be.
My personal life events have absolutely nothing to do with Little Busters itself, but it sure as hell has something to do with my reflections on it. We sometimes miss acknowledging the force of timing in our observation of texts; certainly in this site's attempt to catalogue our perspectives, there's at least one game you hold dear to your heart because it reached you at an impressionable time over a describable objective quality, no? Our opinions can be more reflections our personal biases than a work itself, as much as we strive to find agreement or objectivity.
Don't worry, I don't think that's necessarily wrong. When we do acknowledge that we may be fond of works due to our vulnerability or relative youth, we don't need to concede that work to nostalgia. Something like Little Busters or Clannad may not have the greatest or most unique writing, translation, or prose; they're often limited by the crack fan squads trying to bring these translations over to us without the budget and rigor of a full localization team. But I think we should still vaunt a work's capability of affecting us in the right way at the right time. Mio's route shot through walls I put up for myself, and Refrain helped me clean up the rubble - that's it, and I loved it. I can't thank Maeda and company enough for reaching me and getting me through a really rough time in my life. Maybe it was because I was young that it affected me. But maybe when we're young we need a special kind of story to talk to us.
I find Little Busters to be stellar YA. If you're not going through that period of your life, then Little Busters is still warm, funny, and genuine; it has a fantastic soundtrack, a wonderful cast, an addicting minigame to shake up the common route, a sense of humor that bridges the language barrier, and a giant heart holding it all together at the center. For those who going through something rough or vulnerable, though, this may be just the little extra you need. Even when it's goofy or melodramatic - like everything by key - I can promise that it'll do its best to give you a hug, a pat on the head, and a nudge off to where you ought to be.
Hey, you, who hasn't played the game, reading this. Play it on a DS. please. thanks!
I forget if I actually ever played the game itself. More importantly, my college roommates and I are locked in an eternal struggle where we've been slipping the same copy into each other's shelves for years. It's like Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, but with a lot more subterfuge and a lot less pants.
2004
Played this when I was young and it kept me up at night. Not because I was scared about things hopping out of nowhere, but because my mind was reeling about all the images, patterns, music, the ending, and what they could be implying or pointing to.
That's the good shit.
That's the good shit.
I don't know how to sufficiently explain that telling a bunch of swordsman to do things instead of actually controlling any of them feels so damn good here, or why it's any better than the other 15 or so entries. But it really do be like that? Every time you hit that giant green GameCube A button and Ike responds by flipping over a racist shit, cutting him in half, and backflipping away while healing off the whole pummeling he took, it's like a giant affirmation of every preceding life decision up to that choice.
[me booting up Trauma Center for the first time in a while, unprepared for utter and impending ego obliteration as I understand the gap between me 19 years ago with an afternoon and the pile of dust time has eroded me to]: wow I never cleared all the X missions, haha I should try those
Such a fantastic story that goes out of its way to be so laughably homophobic and transphobic that it can't decide which it is. Wish that wasn't such a giant asterisk on it - so many visual novels seem to pride themselves on their twisty narratives with no real message or theme to back up the roller coaster, and this does such a great job at adding a philosophical bend to it and its medium. But it's a hard recommend when it keeps waving its objectionable shit around like a monkey with a dildo gun to make its points. At the same time, how much I can fault a piece of literature that makes me genuinely engage with philosophy? Well... This much.
My opinion on what to rate it fluctuates somewhere between giving it a 3.0 and a 5.0 every time I think about it. Nonetheless, tell them I've had a wonderful life.
My opinion on what to rate it fluctuates somewhere between giving it a 3.0 and a 5.0 every time I think about it. Nonetheless, tell them I've had a wonderful life.
This review contains spoilers
justice for Kyle
2003
This is the best implementation of mid-00's aesthetic - that mix of gritty, earthy, dark greens/blues/oranges and steel-neon cities out of a frutiger aero background. It whizzes by at 700 MPH, and it feels like it. It goes for pseudo-realism and it still looks good two decades later. How does it do it? The story mode is balls-disgusting hard, but with such quick hooks objectives and ever-teasing, escalating difficulties - you can't get through that door? that one boulder is gonna make you stop playing? - it dangles the carrot so well. Great fuckin soundtrack, and there's more than one person I know who got into electronic or ambient music from this. The characters are so distinctly goofy sci-fi, and they don't need to be there or fleshed out like they are, yet they are! And then there's the astronomically-high skill ceiling that's fun to watch, and fun to just graze every now and then with an absolutely perfect slide or snake before you absolutely eat shit off the track like Icarus. Anyone of any skill level can at least enjoy it.
I've been trying to stick all my five star rated games with some kinda commentary, but what is there to add here? Go play it! It speaks for itself. It's so effortlessly cool, such a tightly built game with grand feel, few flaws, and zero friction between it and its experience - just a raw test of skill, and people still keep pushing its limits year by year.
I've been trying to stick all my five star rated games with some kinda commentary, but what is there to add here? Go play it! It speaks for itself. It's so effortlessly cool, such a tightly built game with grand feel, few flaws, and zero friction between it and its experience - just a raw test of skill, and people still keep pushing its limits year by year.
2021
This review contains spoilers
It's nice when you pick up a creepy roguelike and there's a sequel to the 1998 Pokémon Trading Card Game Game lying around in the middle of it
2009
you are now thinking about how sticky those buttons are on the one at your local arcade. mmmm sticky sticky schlick