"What game you play first is usually what you love the most." Usually.
Mario 64 was the first game I had ever played. Reflecting back when I was older, there was a brief moment a couple years ago, (and by brief I mean, like, at least a couple of months), in which I had felt like because Banjo Kazooie was iterative of Mario 64, it somehow lessened the experience. As if, because it's taking ideas that weren't it's own, it was somehow less special. That it's now more boring.
I was grumpy at the time due to some personal life issues, but even then, I was aware at just how dumb the thought was. I mean, come on, a game you loved your entire life is now boring to you? It was quickly dispelled with another playthrough of each game when I was in a better mood. After the replays, I concluded that each game had it's own strengths and weaknesses that only come from the result of their execution, and I loved them both unconditionally. But I still preferred Banjo Kazooie.
This idea sort of struck a chord with me, and it's something I've realized is true regardless of the game — My enjoyment of a game will always come down to the execution of ideas, how those ideas fit into my own particular tastes, and how much something sticks with me. Your preferred flavor will be your flavor, but you can always enjoy other flavors, so to speak. Granted, it won't always be your preferred— sometimes tastes change. But you will tend to prefer one thing over another.
Banjo Kazooie is one of the reasons I love video games. Mario 64 may have taught me what video games were, but Banjo Kazooie is the game where I found out my preferences.
What made Banjo Kazooie so unique from Mario 64 was it's structure. I loved that the levels were open and you could continue to explore the world without needing to be kicked back out like the missions in the Mario formula. It helped me feel like I was in this world, and not just in a video game. I loved that you could get new abilities and they would change the way you navigate through a world. I loved the transformations and how they added interesting changes to the gameplay (and even more so in it's sequel). I loved how there were multiple objectives within a level with their own characters, making it feel like the world was alive and lived in. I loved that this game is about a dumb, but good natured bear and his sarcastic, loud mouthed bird in his backpack go up against an evil witch that speaks in dumb rhymes because she stole his hot sister and she wants to steal her hotness for herself. I absolutely loved that this was an "open world" game, back when it was still applicable to call it that. GTA 3 would later change what that word meant forever, but at the time, that's what I remember people would call it. By modern definitions, it's obviously not as big, but this has actually benefited the game in hindsight. Since content is considerably more closely packed together, there's never really any of the stretching of content syndrome you'd find in modern games. Banjo Kazooie does an excellent job at packing it's levels with stuff to collect, giving the player fun ways to traverse, giving a tremendous feeling of exploration, and wrapping it all up in a very whimsical, charmingly tongue-in-cheek way.
Each level in Banjo Kazooie is engrained into my soul forever. Mumbo's Mountain, Treasure Trove Cove, Clanker's Cavern, Bubble Gloop Swamp, Freezeazy Peak, Gobi's Valley, Mad Monster Mansion, Rusty Bucket Bay, Click Clock Wood, they're all fantastic levels, with such vivid themes and character. Talking about all of them would take up too much time, but my favorite levels were always Freezeazy Peak and Click Clock Wood. Freezeazy Peak cemented my love for winter levels, with it's Giant Snowman, Christmas tree, log cabins with glowing lights inside, the winter night sky, Boogey the Polar Bear and his dumb shenanigans. All of it evokes the spirit of Christmas, and in part, is what my mental image of Christmas even is. Click Clock Wood on the other hand was this really interesting final level that was a remixed version of the same level, but it changed season whenever you entered into a different door within it's main hub. Each season had things you could do only within that season, but would progress time for certain events to occur. Characters like the Eagle would grow older and older each time you'd feed him, items would become easier to obtain from one season to the next. It's where the game is at it's most clever.
For the longest time, I had maintained the thought that Clanker's Cavern and Rusty Bucket Bay weren't very good levels. But the more I've replayed, the more I've learned to genuinely appreciate them. This is something that only happened recently, too! I never thought it would have happened! They're both grimey and industrial, but take two completely different takes on the same idea. Clanker's Cavern is a water level, but it's such a uniquely interesting take on a water level. You're swimming around in what's basically a trash disposal, with this mechanical shark that may or may not have once been a real shark, as you swim in his guts, his mechanical exterior, and area surrounding him. Rusty Bucket Bay has more to do with this ship surrounded by a bay of poisonous water, traversing the ship and portside alike.
I think the reason why I didn't like these levels growing up is that they both tended to scare me. They were the levels that my sister pawned off to me as we both played through the game, and they gave the both of us anxiety by having some of the more challenging parts in the game. Having to swim through a key to have Clanker float up to the surface was nerve wracking, and it didn't help that the swimming controls were stiff and hard to get your angle just right. Rusty Bucket Bay has the infamous pipe room that makes it very easy to die and have to restart the level again. Getting there used to fill me with unbelievable dread. Now that I'm older, and I've played this game countless amount of times, I genuinely appreciate the challenge it brings. It makes me appreciate that in the original version of the game, if you died, you would have to recollect all your notes. I get why people wouldn't like it, and for a time, I didn't like it either, but it's a fun challenge that puts you on the edge of your seat. I could easily play without it, but I think it adds some extra challenge if you're into that sort of thing.
The finale has always been so memorable to me. Grunty's Furnace Fun being a quiz/trivia game show as well as a sort of a boss rush is such a stupid, quirky, yet fun idea. It's so fitting for this ridiculous universe to end in such a silly way. The final boss fight with Grunty is probably one of my favorite boss fights. Having it set at the top of the tower, these murky storm clouds with a reddish glow peaking out of them as lightning crashes everywhere paints such a vivid picture in my head. The boss fight itself is really fun too, with multiple phases that really test out all the abilities you've gained throughout the game. And then finally getting to see the Giant Jinjo send her crashing down after many attempts at breaking her shield as it's timed with the music, only for her to throw out one last magic attack at you as she plummets to the ground is just, agh, it's so satisfying. It's such a great final encounter. Replaying your save file and seeing that Grunty's still trapped under that rock was always so cool, and it was the first time I've ever seen a game have that level of detail, as well as having the game continue even after I beat it. It's a small thing, but being able to see how your actions affected the world around you, and being able to still play the game even after you did every thing has become such a beloved trope of mine.
Speaking of the music, Grant Kirkhope's music is incredibly distinctive — almost too distinctive. It's so ingrained into Banjo Kazooie's DNA and fits the entire game like a glove. The back and forth chords of his signature style adds to the jovial tone, even in the more dramatic or spooky moments. I say it's "too distinctive" mostly because Grant tends to lean more into the similar tropes found within Banjo Kazooie's music with his newer music, when in reality, he has much more range than he let's on. There was a point where I thought maybe it was too played out, and became too much for me personally, but honestly, it was silly to think that. Grant's a legend, and his music is incredibly memorable, and most musicians wish they could have even one good tune to stick in your head forever. Grant's been able to do that with almost entire soundtracks, and that's incredible!
My preferences have grown over the years, and maybe stuff like the theming of the levels not being at all unified bothers me slightly. Maybe Clanker's Cavern and Rusty Bucket Bay aren't the best levels ever. Maybe the music isn't my single most favorite video game music ever made. But god, I don't fucking care. This game is just so fucking cool, you guys. GOD, Sexy Grunty is so fucking HOT—
With this review, I haven't said everything I wanted to say about this game. I'm not even sure I could at this point. It's so hard to formulate the right words to even begin to convince people how special this game is. But maybe, I don't need to. Maybe all I need to say is that, this game is the most important game I've ever played. It's the benchmark of my gaming preferences, and that's so important to me specifically. I can only hope that you feel the same.
Mario 64 was the first game I had ever played. Reflecting back when I was older, there was a brief moment a couple years ago, (and by brief I mean, like, at least a couple of months), in which I had felt like because Banjo Kazooie was iterative of Mario 64, it somehow lessened the experience. As if, because it's taking ideas that weren't it's own, it was somehow less special. That it's now more boring.
I was grumpy at the time due to some personal life issues, but even then, I was aware at just how dumb the thought was. I mean, come on, a game you loved your entire life is now boring to you? It was quickly dispelled with another playthrough of each game when I was in a better mood. After the replays, I concluded that each game had it's own strengths and weaknesses that only come from the result of their execution, and I loved them both unconditionally. But I still preferred Banjo Kazooie.
This idea sort of struck a chord with me, and it's something I've realized is true regardless of the game — My enjoyment of a game will always come down to the execution of ideas, how those ideas fit into my own particular tastes, and how much something sticks with me. Your preferred flavor will be your flavor, but you can always enjoy other flavors, so to speak. Granted, it won't always be your preferred— sometimes tastes change. But you will tend to prefer one thing over another.
Banjo Kazooie is one of the reasons I love video games. Mario 64 may have taught me what video games were, but Banjo Kazooie is the game where I found out my preferences.
What made Banjo Kazooie so unique from Mario 64 was it's structure. I loved that the levels were open and you could continue to explore the world without needing to be kicked back out like the missions in the Mario formula. It helped me feel like I was in this world, and not just in a video game. I loved that you could get new abilities and they would change the way you navigate through a world. I loved the transformations and how they added interesting changes to the gameplay (and even more so in it's sequel). I loved how there were multiple objectives within a level with their own characters, making it feel like the world was alive and lived in. I loved that this game is about a dumb, but good natured bear and his sarcastic, loud mouthed bird in his backpack go up against an evil witch that speaks in dumb rhymes because she stole his hot sister and she wants to steal her hotness for herself. I absolutely loved that this was an "open world" game, back when it was still applicable to call it that. GTA 3 would later change what that word meant forever, but at the time, that's what I remember people would call it. By modern definitions, it's obviously not as big, but this has actually benefited the game in hindsight. Since content is considerably more closely packed together, there's never really any of the stretching of content syndrome you'd find in modern games. Banjo Kazooie does an excellent job at packing it's levels with stuff to collect, giving the player fun ways to traverse, giving a tremendous feeling of exploration, and wrapping it all up in a very whimsical, charmingly tongue-in-cheek way.
Each level in Banjo Kazooie is engrained into my soul forever. Mumbo's Mountain, Treasure Trove Cove, Clanker's Cavern, Bubble Gloop Swamp, Freezeazy Peak, Gobi's Valley, Mad Monster Mansion, Rusty Bucket Bay, Click Clock Wood, they're all fantastic levels, with such vivid themes and character. Talking about all of them would take up too much time, but my favorite levels were always Freezeazy Peak and Click Clock Wood. Freezeazy Peak cemented my love for winter levels, with it's Giant Snowman, Christmas tree, log cabins with glowing lights inside, the winter night sky, Boogey the Polar Bear and his dumb shenanigans. All of it evokes the spirit of Christmas, and in part, is what my mental image of Christmas even is. Click Clock Wood on the other hand was this really interesting final level that was a remixed version of the same level, but it changed season whenever you entered into a different door within it's main hub. Each season had things you could do only within that season, but would progress time for certain events to occur. Characters like the Eagle would grow older and older each time you'd feed him, items would become easier to obtain from one season to the next. It's where the game is at it's most clever.
For the longest time, I had maintained the thought that Clanker's Cavern and Rusty Bucket Bay weren't very good levels. But the more I've replayed, the more I've learned to genuinely appreciate them. This is something that only happened recently, too! I never thought it would have happened! They're both grimey and industrial, but take two completely different takes on the same idea. Clanker's Cavern is a water level, but it's such a uniquely interesting take on a water level. You're swimming around in what's basically a trash disposal, with this mechanical shark that may or may not have once been a real shark, as you swim in his guts, his mechanical exterior, and area surrounding him. Rusty Bucket Bay has more to do with this ship surrounded by a bay of poisonous water, traversing the ship and portside alike.
I think the reason why I didn't like these levels growing up is that they both tended to scare me. They were the levels that my sister pawned off to me as we both played through the game, and they gave the both of us anxiety by having some of the more challenging parts in the game. Having to swim through a key to have Clanker float up to the surface was nerve wracking, and it didn't help that the swimming controls were stiff and hard to get your angle just right. Rusty Bucket Bay has the infamous pipe room that makes it very easy to die and have to restart the level again. Getting there used to fill me with unbelievable dread. Now that I'm older, and I've played this game countless amount of times, I genuinely appreciate the challenge it brings. It makes me appreciate that in the original version of the game, if you died, you would have to recollect all your notes. I get why people wouldn't like it, and for a time, I didn't like it either, but it's a fun challenge that puts you on the edge of your seat. I could easily play without it, but I think it adds some extra challenge if you're into that sort of thing.
The finale has always been so memorable to me. Grunty's Furnace Fun being a quiz/trivia game show as well as a sort of a boss rush is such a stupid, quirky, yet fun idea. It's so fitting for this ridiculous universe to end in such a silly way. The final boss fight with Grunty is probably one of my favorite boss fights. Having it set at the top of the tower, these murky storm clouds with a reddish glow peaking out of them as lightning crashes everywhere paints such a vivid picture in my head. The boss fight itself is really fun too, with multiple phases that really test out all the abilities you've gained throughout the game. And then finally getting to see the Giant Jinjo send her crashing down after many attempts at breaking her shield as it's timed with the music, only for her to throw out one last magic attack at you as she plummets to the ground is just, agh, it's so satisfying. It's such a great final encounter. Replaying your save file and seeing that Grunty's still trapped under that rock was always so cool, and it was the first time I've ever seen a game have that level of detail, as well as having the game continue even after I beat it. It's a small thing, but being able to see how your actions affected the world around you, and being able to still play the game even after you did every thing has become such a beloved trope of mine.
Speaking of the music, Grant Kirkhope's music is incredibly distinctive — almost too distinctive. It's so ingrained into Banjo Kazooie's DNA and fits the entire game like a glove. The back and forth chords of his signature style adds to the jovial tone, even in the more dramatic or spooky moments. I say it's "too distinctive" mostly because Grant tends to lean more into the similar tropes found within Banjo Kazooie's music with his newer music, when in reality, he has much more range than he let's on. There was a point where I thought maybe it was too played out, and became too much for me personally, but honestly, it was silly to think that. Grant's a legend, and his music is incredibly memorable, and most musicians wish they could have even one good tune to stick in your head forever. Grant's been able to do that with almost entire soundtracks, and that's incredible!
My preferences have grown over the years, and maybe stuff like the theming of the levels not being at all unified bothers me slightly. Maybe Clanker's Cavern and Rusty Bucket Bay aren't the best levels ever. Maybe the music isn't my single most favorite video game music ever made. But god, I don't fucking care. This game is just so fucking cool, you guys. GOD, Sexy Grunty is so fucking HOT—
With this review, I haven't said everything I wanted to say about this game. I'm not even sure I could at this point. It's so hard to formulate the right words to even begin to convince people how special this game is. But maybe, I don't need to. Maybe all I need to say is that, this game is the most important game I've ever played. It's the benchmark of my gaming preferences, and that's so important to me specifically. I can only hope that you feel the same.