As impactful as Super Mario 64 was to the then-prevalent 3D platformer genre, I’m not sure the game can take all of the credit for being the genre’s sole primary influence. I always bestow the plumber’s landmark 3D debut with a considerable amount of veneration, for Nintendo’s efforts in remodeling Mario for the cutting-edge next polygonal phase of gaming created an entirely original experience that set the stage for a radical new realm of possibilities. While Super Mario 64 was the game that pioneered the non-linear, explorative “collectathon” 3D platformer subgenre, its indelible mark on the era obviously echoed to several other games of the same ilk to follow its example. Being the building blocks of a genre sort of connotes that your disciples expand upon your foundation instead of contently resting at ground zero. Also, Super Mario 64 set an unintentional implication in that the pervasive platformer genre could only survive in the third dimension with this direction. Mario, the de facto king of the genre, seemingly had to forgo his standard, linear roots so drastically in Super Mario 64, so this meant that all other platformer icons new and old had to assimilate to the change or perish. With both its rudimentary footing and massive impact in consideration, one of Super Mario 64’s many offsprings had to have the potential to outclass its progenitor. The game that would truly innovate on what Super Mario 64 established was a new IP from the British then-Nintendo subsidiary developer Rare in the form of Banjo Kazooie. One of the reasons I revere Super Mario 64 despite its vestigial framework is because it's the godfather of every game that I grew up with in the subsequent generation. However, while this is still true, it seems like Banjo-Kazooie has a more clear and more direct line with my cherished video games from childhood on the 3D platformer family tree. Also, my praise for Banjo-Kazooie ascends past the reasonable level of respect I give to its fellow N64 linchpin Super Mario 64, for Banjo-Kazooie is still a solid rock of a 3D platformer whose quality has not been weathered by time.

It’s amusing to see how a British developer attempts to encapsulate the magic of Mario, and I’m not only referring to the mechanics of the “collectathon” subgenre. Mario’s peerless high ranking in the echelons of gaming can be attested to his wide accessibility in his presentation. Mario captures that spectacle of Japanese whimsy that is neither too immature nor off-puttingly bizarre, sort of in the same vein as the successful fellow Japanese animation corporation Studio Ghibli. The tasteful balance on display is probably indicative of a country that has both a storied mythical lore and an inordinate amount of nuclear radiation exposure than the rest of the world. The Western world might be beguiled by Mario’s foreign charm, but can they tangibly translate their wonder into something original? Banjo-Kazooie’s Western interpretation of Mario’s aesthetic is to emphasize the wacky animated aspects of the plumber’s world. I guess our Western equivalent to Mario’s mirthfulness is our cartoons. Banjo-Kazooie’s presentation is not overtly British like one of Terry Gilliam’s illustrations from a Monty Python skit (though that would be super cool). Rather, Banjo Kazooie conveys that animation drawn for a broad demographic west of the prime meridian tends to feature exaggerated physical proportions and anthropomorphic animals as central characters. Banjo-Kazooie is brimming with archetypal Western cartoon attributes, given that the game’s protagonist is a bipedal bear and every enemy, from the hopping vegetables to the tombstones, all have a pair of goofy-looking googly eyes to signify their sentience. Because of how cartoonish the aesthetic is, Banjo-Kazooie resembles a product catered towards a younger audience. Unfortunately, it’s not as accessible as Mario's because the overall tone might come across as too juvenile for some adolescent/adult gamers. The hints of toilet humor also probably do not help its case. Still, the appeal of Banjo Kazooie is apparent due to how dynamically lighthearted everything is, like an old Mickey Mouse cartoon. Doubling down on the innocuous elements from accessible forms of Western media is probably the most inspired decision from the developers regarding the game’s presentation.

One of the pervasive childlike elements of Banjo-Kazooie is its fairy tale plot premise, a staple of mythology. Gruntilda, a prototypical depiction of a nasty, evil witch from the most famous of Grimm’s classic stories, is performing the usual duties of this age-old archetype of toiling and troubling over her bubbling cauldron. The clairvoyant wisdom she seeks from her boiling pot is whether or not she’s the “nicest looking wench” in the land, and is offended at the cauldron’s candid response telling her that she isn’t. Why someone who revels in being obstinately filthy and grotesque like a kid-friendly version of Divine would care if she satisfies traditional beauty standards is beyond me, but I digress. The “fairest maiden” to be found is Tooty, a young female bear with blonde pigtails who conveniently lives in a comfy little home situated down the hill from Grundtilda’s domain. I guess the radius of beauty the cauldron can assess is confined by the same zip code. Gruntilda’s solution to being outshined by some neighborhood child is to abduct her and initiate a procedure where their matter will be swapped, as Gruntilda will receive all of Tooty’s beautiful attributes while Tooty becomes as beastly as Gruntilda. Tooty is also Banjo’s younger sister, so he’s naturally inclined to stop this horrendous experiment before his sister is doomed to look like a green warthog. Not only do fairy tales often present a heinous witch complete with a tall black hat and a broomstick as a common antagonist, but the old versus young parallel between women is a prevalent theme across some notable examples (Snow White, Sleeping Beauty). Banjo-Kazooie prevents itself from the puerile trappings of its fairy tale influences by subverting this plot premise with slight parody, like Shrek would succeed in doing a few years later. Pop culture references to both Frankenstein and The Fly are clearly seen in the game’s “game over” sequence where her hunchback lab assistant Klungo throws the switch to energize two opposite matter machines with Tooty and Gruntilda enclosed. While Banjo Kazooie still exudes a childish aura, tongue-in-cheek jabs at fairy tale tropes keep it from feeling infantile.

Banjo the character actually debuted in Diddy Kong Racing the year prior in Rare’s lineup of original cute and cuddly playable characters that meshed well alongside Nintendo’s petite, baseball cap-wearing chimp (if only Conker’s inclusion here hasn’t aged like sour milk). Out of all of these characters to greenlight into a new IP, why choose Banjo over say, Bumper the Badger or Tipsy the Mouse? Timber the Tiger arguably even had more mascot potential, as his baseball cap with the Rare insignia mirrored Diddy’s Nintendo cap. Is it due to his relatively higher strength build, or does the necklace, pants, and backpack combination make him more visually enticing than the other character with one distinctive feature? Truth be told, I’m not all too certain why Banjo ascended past a two-bit supporting role among the Diddy Kong Racing roster while all the others (except for Conker) continued to wallow in obscurity. This is especially curious considering Kazooie does most of the legwork (almost literally). The second half of the game’s hyphenated title did not exist during Banjo’s humble beginnings as a cart driver, as she was introduced by Rare to accompany Banjo on his debut platforming adventure. The brightly-colored bird of unknown species resides in Banjo’s backpack as stationary as if she’s on house arrest, and Banjo better hope she’s actually fused to his blue accessory because he’d be hopeless without her.

Banjo and Kazooie have an interesting character dynamic in that the mechanics of both characters are consistently utilized in tandem with one another, used by a single player. Banjo is obviously the primary kinetic force in their partnership as he lugs Kazooie in his backpack. His primary role as the leg muscle also extends to his arms as the game’s basic combat, as the bear will knock enemies around with a barrage of left and right hooks and roll into enemies with the force of his entire body while moving. Disappointingly enough, punches from a bear aren’t as furious and deadly as one would expect because Banjo’s arms seem as short as a T-Rex’s. The rolling move feels more fluid and ensures a more accurate hit, but its trajectory is still rather stilted. Kazooie’s pecking move when Banjo jumps in the air compensates for the bear’s pitiful range, and the direction can be changed in a few seconds when both are in mid-air. Kazooie must have some penguin DNA in her genetic mix because her wings wade beneath the water while Banjo just doggy paddles on the surface. Actually, Kazooie’s swimming indicates that she’s not an aquatic bird because the underwater controls are appallingly rigid. Yet, Kazooie’s willingness to carry Banjo through the adventure forces her to perform tasks outside of her comfort zone. Banjo’s bespectacled mole friend Bottles pops out of his arrangement of molehills to teach Kazooie certain skills to really overload Kazooie’s workload. On the offensive side, Kazooie will tug on Banjo’s backpack to execute a body slam similar to Mario’s ass stomp to press buttons and such. A specific combination of the crouch move will trigger a number of Kazooie’s special techniques, namely Kazooie spurting out baby blue eggs out of her mouth and cloaca (ew) as projectile attacks. The “Talon Trot” sees Kazooie shifting the mobile roles as she carries Banjo on her back instead. With the stronger adhesive strength of her talons sticking to steep, angled inclines, increased running speed, and limitless usage, it seems like Banjo could simply lie on his lazy ass the whole time doing nothing. Two different types of pads will appear to launch Banjo upward, with the green pads giving his jump an exorbitant boost and the red pads as a launch point for Kazooie to soar through the skies until the red feather ammunition is fully depleted. Must I further highlight why Kazooie probably should’ve gotten first billing in the game’s title?

Banjo and Kazooie’s simultaneous dynamic isn’t only limited to how they interact on the field. For a video game genre that usually doesn’t offer much dialogue or characterization, both Banjo and Kazooie are quite loquacious, along with the rest of their world. The dialogue in Banjo Kazooie is displayed with scrolling text in a speech bubble with a character icon on the far side. Speech is not enunciated by any characters: rather; vocal inflections are expressed through warbles that have a distinctive cadence per character. If you come across any lighthearted game with cartoony graphics that has this type of gibberish voice-acting style, Banjo-Kazooie is the game that popularized it (but don’t quote me on that). When interacting with NPCs, Banjo and Kazooie act as character foils. Banjo is a well-meaning dope that approaches people and situations very matter-of-factly, while Kazooie is shockingly caustic. Another reason why Banjo better pray that Kazooie is stuck to the inside of his backpack with superglue is that the bird has an acid tongue; a biting insult for every NPC she comes across, and one NPC might lash out by taking her by her bird neck and throttle her. Nevertheless, Banjo’s good cop, bad cop routine with his backpack bird gives them a wonderful personal chemistry. Some notable NPCs that Kazooie often gives a harsh tongue-lashing to are the aforementioned Bottles, Banjo’s mild-mannered mole friend who somehow knows more about Kazooie’s physical dexterity than she does. Mumbo Jumbo is a slightly racist depiction of an African witch doctor who owns a few small hut properties across many of the game’s levels that resemble his golden skull mask. Other miscellaneous NPCs that Banjo isn’t as chummy with are the hapless camel Gobi, the covetous Conga the Ape, and the blubbering hippo commander of the “Salty Hippo” sea ship aptly named Captain Blubber, to name a few. Compared to the litany of cookie-cutter Toads that Mario speaks to in Super Mario 64, Banjo-Kazooie’s cast of secondary characters is amazingly eclectic.

Banjo-Kazooie isn’t a lengthy 3D platformer that swells the number of collectibles to prolong the experience. In fact, the total number of levels the game offers is significantly less than that of Super Mario 64. Though Banjo-Kazooie’s content lacks the quantity present in its influence, the game more than compensates with the quality of the levels. What impresses me about Banjo-Kazooie’s environments is their sheer immensity. As twee and jovial as Banjo’s world seems from an aesthetic standpoint, something about the way the game displays it exudes a crushing feeling. Immediately, this foreboding aura seems prevalent in Banjo’s hub. After the tutorial section of the grassy Spiral Mountain in Banjo’s backyard, the duration of the game is centered around the confines of Gruntilda’s Lair. The interior of Grundtilda’s wicked visage molded from the rocky cliffs of Spiral Mountain is as voluminous as the recesses of a dank underground cavern. Rescuing Tooty is a steep vertical climb up to the lair’s apex where the experiment is being conducted, and Banjo must progressively piece together every floor of Gruntilda’s Lair on his upward journey (literally). Gruntilda’s Lair is the antithesis of what I’ve always claimed to be an effective hub world, which is a modest place of respite between all of the levels where the call to action is heightened. Gruntilda’s Lair acting as the game’s centerpiece is almost like cutting out the middleman of the Peach’s Castle hub in Super Mario 64 and storming Bowser’s Castle immediately in the most glacial rescue operation ever executed. Gruntilda’s goons roam around on every floor and the witch’s omniscient presence is always felt, and that’s only partly due to her taunting Banjo and his bird with her AB rhyme schemes over some sort of intercom system. However, I’m willing to give Gruntilda’s Lair a pass as the enemy encounters are very slight and the enclosure of the spacious walls feels as tight as Fort Knox while inside them. The oppressive aura mood doesn’t stem from a notion of danger, but how small and insignificant Banjo looks juxtaposed with the massive walls surrounding him. Also, I must commend Gruntilda’s Lair for taking the hub format of Super Mario 64 and streamlining the non-linear hub to a constant vertical incline because progression feels more satisfying. I just wish Banjo wasn’t forced to start from square one every time the player exits the game, with the few teleportation cauldrons withstanding.

As to be expected, Banjo-Kazooie’s levels that protrude from the hub are a varied bunch that curates a wide selection of typical platformer level motifs. Every base is fully covered, ranging from a beach level, snow level, spooky level, etc. However, I did state before that Banjo-Kazooie’s levels were richer in substance despite the marginal number of them, and also that they follow suit on the hub’s expansiveness. Despite the seemingly standard levels, the developers have added some deeper thematic flair that transcends their base motif. For example, Treasure Trove Cove, the beach level, is plastered with pirate imagery, including an immobile ship at its center along with several silly-looking treasure chest beasts with goodies inside them. The winter wonderland of Freezeezy Peak uses the time of year associated with the season to engulf the level of Christmas cheer, something only a Western developer could fully epitomize due to living in a culture that actually celebrates the holiday as opposed to Japan observing it as outsiders. I suppose the same could be said for Halloween formulating the inspiration behind Mad Monster Mansion, but the specific elements of horror associated with that holiday were always less solidified.
One level that takes a typical level motif in a wild direction is Clanker’s Cavern. I think this is Rare tackling a sewer level, but all of the properties usually found in those terrains are only slightly recognizable. Maybe I was distracted by Clanker, the metallic shark floating in the center of the level in a pool of filthy backwashed water massive enough to fit the shark’s titanic, steamboat stature. Besides his size, Clanker’s also a great unsubtle eyesore because he looks like hell. The beastly machine has rusted over in the years he’s served as Gruntilda’s garbage disposal, with his murky eyeballs bulging out of his skull and a shockingly graphic fissure of pulpy, red flesh near the base of his left fin. He lives a fate that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, but the arena where he’s condemned to live out his days is still a monumental stride in 3D-level design due to its upscaled breadth. Enclosed areas will be found per level such as the pyramids of the Gobi Valley, the interior quarters of the ship in Rusty Bucket Bay, and the pink, veiny insides of Clanker’s decaying body, and they are exciting to excavate upon uncovering them and present layers of depth in the level design. My favorite level in the game that combines an interesting theme alongside a breathtaking scope is Click Clock Wood. The entrance of the level acts as a foyer connecting four paths each represented by a season. The wooded area with a towering tree trunk at the center shares the same layout behind each door, but the aesthetic of the level is affected by the weather conditions of each subsequent equinox. From the beginning of the rainy budding of Spring, then the baked warmth of Summer, to the auburn glow of Autumn, and finally the desolate chill of winter, I was stunned to feel a slight sting of sentimentalism at the end of the cycle. The many overarching tasks throughout each season also add to the profound depth of the area’s level progression. What Rare managed to execute here is truly astonishing.

The word I’d use to describe Banjo-Kazooie’s overall design philosophy is conspicuous. Already, the word can be used to define the way in which the levels are depicted because every angle of the spacious playgrounds enlarges the player’s range of sight. Besides enrapturing the player with a broad spectacle, crafting each level with a wide range of sight in mind is perfect for the loose exploration parameters of each level. The proverbial boot that kicked Mario out of every level upon either succeeding or failing in Super Mario 64 is completely discarded in Banjo-Kazooie. Obtaining a “jiggy” piece, the main collectible that unlocks new levels in the hub by fitting them in an unfinished jigsaw puzzle of the area, will never hastily eject the player back into the hub. I’m glad that Rare remedied Nintendo’s awkward mistake here, for it's a much more sensible approach to the collectathon format. Because the player is free to explore each area without the boot-out system in place, every objective is of equal precedence, which is why allowing the player to scope them out easily while exploring is imperative. When the player comes across a point of interest on the map, the game frames the scenario clearly enough to signal that a Jiggy could be earned here. Objectives to claim Jiggies are incredibly varied, ranging from puzzle minigames, fighting hordes of enemies, races, platforming challenges, etc. The diversity on display here assures that each Jiggy task will be somewhat unique and never tire the player with repetitive tedium. One highlight task seen throughout the game is transforming Banjo’s body into another animal or creature with the help of Mumbo’s voodoo powers. Playing as a termite, alligator, walrus, pumpkin, and bee doesn’t allow Banjo to execute the same physical feats compared to when Kazooie is strapped to his back, but playing as these funny forms for a short period does enough to diversify the gameplay even more.

To make Mumbo flick his wand and say the magic words, Banjo first needs to collect enough silver, skull-shaped tokens to satisfy the pygmy magician. Not to worry, for these tokens are as prominent as the Jiggy pieces. The other collectibles such as the candy-coated, multicolored Jingo creatures and the honeycomb pieces that increase Banjo’s maximum health are a tad more unobtrusive, but never to the extent where the player will ever experience a stress-induced aneurysm trying to scope them out. The game’s secondary collectible, the golden music notes, are strewn around the level so abundantly that they’re almost like currency. I had hoped that the developers would have treated them as a form of currency because the ones the player collects respawn in the same spots if the player dies. Doing a thorough examination of a level’s layout while the land is fresh is one thing, but performing the same trek to regain these sonorous half-notes is incredibly grating. I wouldn’t mind so much if the notes weren’t necessary to proceed through Gruntilda’s Lair, and the quantity needed gets pretty stiff near the end of the game. It’s the one collectathon aspect in the game that the developers neglected to carefully consider.

The player will have to meticulously scrounge through every nook and cranny in the game anyways to prepare for the final battle against Gruntilda. This is not only because doors locked behind substantially high music note numbers are the only means of replenishing ammunition, but because of what occurs before it. Before Banjo can confront the foul face of Gruntilda up close and personal, the sickly-colored stereotype stalls him and Kazooie with a little game. And by little game, I mean Trivial Pursuit from hell. “Grunty’s Furnace Fun” tests the player’s knowledge of everything in the game, including level layouts, music cues, voices, and odd tidbits about Gruntilda that her good witch counterpart informs Banjo of in many instances. Banjo also revisits old minigames with an added timer for a steeper challenge. This array of questions delves into information so obscure that it's sadistic. Did you not know the percentage of fecal matter in the waters of Bubblegloop Swamp, or were you unable to decipher Mumbo Mountain by a picture of its grass? Into the fiery drink you go, you idiot! The pathway of panels to the other side where Gruntilda is as long as the Brooklyn Bridge, and the margins of error are incredibly strict. A few panels immediately launch Banjo to his death, sending him back to square one. I understand that this kind of inanity is in character for Gruntilda, but forcing the player to endure this seems like a contemptuous slight from the developers. They knew this wouldn’t be fun for anyone. Fortunately, the game offers a proper final boss fight with Gruntilda that utilizes all of the player’s physical prowess in an epic fight at the peak of her lair. Weirdly enough, the credits will roll after the game show portion to dupe the player into thinking they finished the game beforehand. I think offering the real final fight as a reward for collecting all the Jiggies would’ve been a better incentive, and what they decided to do here is rather obtuse.

If Super Mario 64 is the grandfather of the 3D platformer, then Banjo-Kazooie is the father figure for all other games in the subgenre that followed. Being younger than Mario’s 3D debut allows Banjo-Kazooie to use its mistakes as a reference, and Banjo-Kazooie rectifies all that Mario established with the same collectathon ethos intact. Banjo-Kazooie is bigger, more free-flowing, more ambitious, and more involved in its collectathon gameplay mechanics than Super Mario 64 could possibly have ever hoped for. No wonder why every platformer that I grew up with took notice and borrowed so much from Banjo-Kazooie to the point where Super Mario 64 seemed like the obsolete model. Check mate, Mario. You’ve been bested by a bear and his bird.

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Attribution: https://erockreviews.blogspot.com

From an artistic standpoint, I am of the belief that a franchise shouldn’t surpass the number of entries fitting for a trilogy. Brevity is not only the soul of wit but also a necessity to retain the magic and integrity of a series of entertainment properties. However, my passionate sentiments would cause serious humiliation at the Capcom offices, as they would laugh like hyenas as I ran out of the room in a crying frenzy like a girl who just bombed her school’s talent show. As thankful as I am for Capcom and all of the other video game conglomerates, their ultimate goal at the end of the day is to turn a profit with their creative properties. Since Capcom now found a winning formula with their Mega Man franchise, they milked that udder dry until it shriveled up and could only produce dust. I suppose Mega Man 4 was the first entry that overstayed Mega Man’s welcome on the NES considering it surpasses the number of titles that make up a solid trilogy of games, so we can attribute this game to commencing Mega Man’s downfall further into the future. However, the strange revelation that I’ve come to is that Mega Man 4 might arguably be the best game in the original series. Come to think of it, Mega Man 3 would’ve been an askew note to leave the series on, what with its unreached ambitions that fell apart in execution. Maybe a proper (and hypothetical) series send-off should signal a true return to form, and that’s certainly what Mega Man 4 offers.

Alert the presses, everyone, for Capcom decided to place another mad scientist on the pedestal of Mega Man bad guys that isn’t Dr. Wily! Approximately a year after the events of the last game, a Russian scientist named Dr. Cossack constructs eight new Robot Masters with the intention of seizing total sovereignty. I’m surprised it took Capcom this long to create a Russian villain at the helm of a megalomaniacal power surge, considering the franchise debuted in the 80s when their association with scum and villainy was at its peak. I suppose Capcom thought it would be wise to wait until the Soviet Union crumbled to feature one of their citizens in an antagonistic role so as to not sour the foreign affairs between them and Japan. Their country is only a submarine ride over from the Pacific coast of Russia, after all. Nevertheless, the fact that Capcom retired their standard bald, mustachioed bad guy here makes me beam with pride. Cossack may be committing a copycat crime here, but the slight deviation his presence represents makes a world of difference. NES franchises have been known to acquiesce to feelings of separation anxiety regarding their main villains, so I realize how hard it was for Capcom to let Wily go.

By this point in the early 90s, developers had honed the rudimentary 8-bit aesthetic into an art form. After the humble, fuzzy entry point in the first Mega Man title, Mega Man 2 made strides in elevating the visual capabilities of the NES console, just to have Mega Man 3 vomit on its contributions. One vital aspect of Mega Man 4’s return to form is the pixelated splendor displayed throughout, starting from the opening sequence. Somehow, Capcom felt that an introduction detailing the genesis point of Mega Man’s creation needed to surpass all other 8-bit cutscenes on the system by illustrating an origin story for Mega Man. A tranquil cityscape is shown from the cycle of day to dusk, with chaotic blasts of malevolent fire disrupting the peaceful atmosphere and calling Mega Man to action out of a valiant sense of justice. We also learn that his Japanese moniker “Rock” is merely the robot’s birth name and that Mega Man is his crime-fighting pseudonym. We also learn from this introduction that Mega Man’s hair was intended to be blue, thus making the initial reveal under his helmet in Mega Man 2 to be a graphical blip. As one could probably infer from the outstanding presentation here, all of the erroneous smudges in the pixels have been wiped out. The cityscape scene is gorgeous, and the following sequence where Mega Man is riding on top of a moving vehicle is spellbinding to watch.

Of course, the effort of high graphical fidelity extends to what is present during the gameplay. A pleasing color pallet was needed in the Mega Man series after Mega Man 3’s muted, flat textures that made the game look depleted. Mega Man 4’s return to form also saw the revival of the visual vibrancy seen in Mega Man 2, and thank the Lords for this. Every level in Mega Man 4 looks uniquely dazzling, meeting the standard established in Mega Man 2. Ring Man’s stage has candy neon evaporating platforms juxtaposed with some crystalline chrome architecture. Pharoah Man’s tomb is built with a tan-colored brick that looks appropriately weathered enough for an ancient construction, and the flow of the sinking sand is borderline hypnotizing. The showering rain effect in Toad Man’s stage is only distracting on a mechanical level, and Dive Man’s teal foreground compliments the water splendidly. The lavender color of Skull Man’s stage probably doesn’t make sense from a thematic standpoint, but I can’t deny that its contrast with the bleached skeletal platforms is striking.

I suppose what is more important about the new crop of levels is their level design. Mega Man 4 doesn’t do too much to deviate from the series' tried and true 2D platforming from point A to B where the Robot Master’s domain lies except for one true stride in ingenuity. Just because Mega Man’s trajectory is fairly straightforward doesn’t mean that each level should offer nothing but a straight line with enemies to halt progression. For the first time in series history, the levels will offer alternate paths for the player to take, usually signified by both ascending and descending ladders. Once Mega Man climbs one of these ladders in either direction on the Y-axis, surviving enemy fire and the various pratfalls will eventually lead Mega Man to the same result as the standard pathway. Sometimes, these alternate passages lead Mega Man to dead ends and the extra challenges before he hits a brick wall often lead to goodies like E-Tanks and health upgrades, rewarding the players for their troubles. God only knows we can’t rely on Dr. Light’s new, little support bot Eddie to supply Mega Man with what he needs because the little guy seems to have difficulties discerning whether or not Mega Man’s health or energy is low. He’s too adorably pathetic to chastise, really. Speaking of difficulties, Mega Man 4 still retains that classic NES challenge that was absent in Mega Man 2 compared to the two games that border it in the main series timeline. The game presents a smattering of dangerous sections like riding on robot enemies over pits of spikes like the bouncy grasshoppers in Bright Man’s stage and the floating platforms in Pharaoh Man’s stage. It’s best to shoot first between a chasm because a cap enemy will fly upward and knock Mega Man out of his airborne velocity to his untimely demise. The midway miniboss robots resembling animals often proved to be formidable obstacles to my goal, such as the hulking whales in Dive Man’s stage and the hippos in Ring Man’s stage that spit missiles comfortably from their high perches. Because of all of these impediments prove to cause a small amount of grief to the player, Mega Man 2’s one big criticism of being too easy cannot be applied here.

Good luck trying to find the correct order to defeat Mega Man 4’s Robot Masters, for this lineup is when the lineup started becoming abstract. Like Mega Man 3, all of these Robot Masters were submitted by Japanese children via a contest and the best of the bunch were granted life by the developers. I don’t know how some kid living in Japan in the early 90s knew what a Pharaoh was, but maybe that's how advanced their education system is. Drill Man is an inspired ground-type Robot Master in the same vein as Gutsman and Hard Man, and his drill bomb weapon is like a more manageable version of the Crash Bomb. Skull Man is the coolest one here from a design standpoint, but I’m not enthused by his weapon being a recycled version of Wood Man’s leaf shield. What makes the weapon worse is that it’s Dive Man’s weakness, and his apt dive maneuver makes sure that plenty of contact damage will occur while fighting him. Bright Man copies Flash Man’s time freeze move, and Dust Man’s mound of vacuumed trash is an effective cluster bomb. God bless Toad Man, for the developers inadvertently made him into a spongy whelp of a Robot Master AND his acid rain weapon clears the screen. Guess which Robot Master I recommend tackling first? Overall, I can’t find too much fault with Cossack’s coalition of Robot Masters. They all have interesting designs and none of their weapons fall under the category of useless junk (points directly at Top Man from Mega Man 3).

Fortunately, if the player isn’t content with using any of these weapons, maybe because they feel the Robot Master weapons peaked with the Metal Blade as I do, Mega Man 4 provides a suitable alternative. This game’s innovative stride in updating Mega Man’s battle prowess is the new addition of the charge shot. By holding down the shoot button on the controller, the collective energy needed for a regular shot of Mega Man’s base beam builds up inside his being and radiates all over him. Releasing Mega Man’s edged shot will unleash a single burst of energy much bigger and much more lethal than the piddly lemon drops it normally sputters out. I probably use the standard blaster more often than most people who have played a Mega Man game, so this addition is a godsend. I’ve always appreciated the variety in store with Mega Man sucking up his enemy's abilities, but I have to admit that pausing the game to cycle through the options can be a tad irksome. Revving up the blaster to blow through enemies that have stronger defenses is incredibly convenient and satisfying, and is just as crucial to Mega Man’s evolution as the slide move (which also returns from Mega Man 3). If it could shoot in the same number of directions as the Metal Blade, I’d never use any of the alternate weapons.

Whether or not using the enhanced blaster or figuring out a Robot Masters's specific weakness works for you, it still culminates in climbing the castle of a wicked scientific genius. This time, it’s the blonde, bearded Cossack instead of Wily’s wild eyebrows. When storming through Cossack’s castle, each level seems deceptively easier than the last. The castle offers some substantial sections involving Rush’s mechanical aid, and we can all breathe a sigh of relief that the Yellow Devil doesn’t make his return to pummel me to oblivion. Still, roaming through the fortress of a madman as the climax of a video game on the NES should warrant great difficulties. My suspicions unraveled with the appalling revelation that Cossack is a red-herring and that Dr. Wily has been using him as a scapegoat the entire time. Naturally, it’s when Wily reveals himself that the apropos difficulty curve reveals itself too, as Wily’s final fight in Mega Man 4 is the most irritating one so far. The weak spot on Wily’s new death machine is high enough that Mega Man must strain himself trying to reach it, and finding Wily in complete darkness while being confined to using Pharaoh Man’s weapon conjures up unpleasant memories of having to use Crash Man’s weapon in the conclusive fight in Mega Man 2, showing that the developers didn’t learn from their mistake.

God dammit. So much for subversion. The old saying that old dogs never learn new tricks is just as applicable to video game franchises, which is why they tend to struggle with innovation past the third entry. Yet, Mega Man 4 seemed like it could’ve at least gone against the grain with the opportunity to do the bare minimum of putting another antagonist in the front seat. Alas, it seems like Dr. Wily will always be the nagging force of oppression like his NES contemporaries Bowser and Ganondorf. Up until this point, I was enjoying Mega Man 4 vastly more than Mega Man 3. Mega Man 4’s back to basics after Mega Man 3 shot to the moon and missed by a mile making for the most balanced of Mega Man titles so far. It’s as smooth as Mega Man 2 was without the few discrepancies that sullied its near-perfect status. If reusing the same villain in a bait-and-switch routine is the only sniggle the game has in a series filled with unfair, broken bullshit, Capcom has more than legitimized Mega Man 4’s existence. Quit while you're ahead, guys.

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Attribution: https://erockreviews.com

Let's get this one thing out of the way first. This game does not relate to Mario at all and is more so used for marketing purposes. But after you play this, I doubt you'll care, because Mario's Picross is a great puzzle game

Picross (otherwise known as Nonograms) are picture logic puzzles in which squares on a grid are filled in or left blank to match numeric clues at the side of the grid to reveal a hidden picture. Let's take a 5 x 5 grid for example. There's a 5 on top of the left side of the grid and another 5 on the top left; these can easily be filled in as that is the maximum length and width of the grid. With me so far? Let's say there's a 3 1 on the left side of the grid for instance; you must fill in 3, skip 1 and then fill in the one on the end. This may seem a bit complex, but the game offers an excellent tutorial showing you the ropes of how to play picross

Once you clear the tutorial, you'll be thrown into the main attraction containing three courses which are Easy Picross, Kinoko, and Star course. Each course will ramp up in difficulty and the difficulty curve is not that bad. The game has three sets of grids; 5x5, 10x10, and 15x15. The main game has a time limit of 30 minutes, which may not seem all too bad if you don't screw up. If you chisel in the wrong tile, you'll lose time, and if it hits 0, it's game over and you have to start again. You can use a hint that'll give you the correct tile from one column and row, but personally, I think it's fun without using the hints, but there's no shame in using one if you get stuck. Figuring out a tricky puzzle on your own and chiseling in the right squares is oh-so-satisfying. Sure, you can say that for a lot of puzzle games, but picross is different. Once I cleared 10+ puzzles, I was instantly hooked and wanted to do more

If you dig the mechanics, you'll get a lot of mileage with Mario's Picross. There are 192 main puzzles, and while I enjoyed clearing them all, it does get a bit exhausting when you're halfway done with the Star Course. There is also an additional 64 puzzles for the Time Trial mode, which makes it a total of 256. In this mode, you have no timer, no penalties for your mistakes, and no hints available. I haven't done much of these, and while I like the change of pace after doing the timed ones, it can be stressful figuring out which one is correct without any penalties, at least in my opinion

Mario's Picross is a great puzzle game that more people should experience. It's really addictive, and it's a shame that it sold poorly outside of Japan. Since the 3DS eShop is about to close and Nintendo is slowly offering Game Boy games to the Nintendo Switch Online service, I think it'll be great to add this game to the service since they added Mario's Super Picross, a game that was never released outside of Japan until much later. If you have this game on a Game Boy, 3DS, or an emulator, I highly recommend you try this game out

The slow, deliberate motions of old-school Monster Hunter are a rhythm that has become completely intoxicating to me. Though the clunk and abrasiveness makes it hard to break into, whenever it hooks its claws into me I'm not coming back out for a long, long time.

The stiffness of the combat creates its own form of satisfaction; sure, it's silly that monsters still turn around 90 degrees at a time 10 years into the series, but that makes them predictable. Bringing the hammer or greatsword down right as their head flicks around the second time, and rolling away just before they charge. This sort of learning is quintessential to the experience - you're not watching for tells and just learning when to dodge-roll through or away from them, you're watching for blind spots, openings and movement patterns to take advantage of, and getting out before you get kicked into the dirt. The comparison I'm making here is pretty obvious - whilst fights in Dark Souls (and its suffocating amount of derivatives) can feel like a deadly dance in their intimate call-and-response, Monster Hunter is far more adverserial as you uncover every dirty trick in the book to break the other dancer's legs before they can finish their act.

And what's a trickster without their tools? Preparation is vital to topple a whole host of monsters without nauseating headaches - as anyone who forgot to bring Flash Bombs against a Rathalos will tell you - but it really opens up once you stop simply bringing what's expected and start bringing along whatever you think might be useful. As a simple example, bringing traps to every difficult-seeming quest and dropping it in the seconds before the monsters sights me lets me, as a Hammer, get a ton of easy damage on the head before the fight even starts; but as a trickier example, have you ever tried flashing a monster in the couple of seconds it hovers after breaking out of a pitfall? You can get a flash knockdown on monsters like Tigrex or Diablos like that, and basically double your pitfall value. Obviously the possibilities aren't endless and you do only have a limited amount of tools to work with - most are designed for specific situations, as well - but even as I'm typing this I'm thinking of new ways I can use these limited tools to my advantage. And regardless of whether you're bringing Smoke Bombs for some bizarre strategy or just bringing Cool Drinks because it's a quest in Volcanic Hollow, this active preparation effectively begins the hunt before you enter the map, by making you look at the monster and the environment and decide what you need to bring.

I realise that through all this I've only talked about Monster Hunter, and not Monster Hunter 4 Ultimate. The truth is, I don't actually like a lot of the new features from 4U! The village journey is, of course, great, but a lot of the new mechanics, monsters and maps aren't even all that appealing to me! (Sorry guys, but I think Zamtrios kinda sucks - you have my express permission to be mean to me in the comments.) But whenever I'm not getting my evasions ruined by all the ledges in Zone 2 Dunes, it all feels like nitpicks when put up against the greatness of the gameplay - the feeling of topping a great monster, rather than just defeating a boss. It's a heavily refined Monster Hunter experience, and what more does it need to be?

Monster Hunter is a very dear franchise to me, to the extent where I can curse getting my shit rocked for half an hour at a time and still come back to give it a near-perfect score. While its clunkiness and how punishing it can be make it a hard sell to the average person, for anyone with prior MH experience or just looking for something demanding in an interesting way, I cannot recommend this game enough.