SpikeTheStupido
Mario, ever since my mid-teens, hasn't been what I wanted.
I grew up with Mario. Mario 64 was my first game ever. I was a GameCube kid through and through and an early Wii adopter. The GameCube represented Nintendo doing their own thing. Creating wacky games with strange gimmicks that innovated and kept you wondering. Sunshine was my favorite mainline Mario game. Luigi's Mansion was one of my favorite spin off series. Paper Mario was my favorite video game series ever. Paper Mario represented everything I loved about the Mario I grew up with. Interesting, playful, subversive, full of character. You never knew what to expect.
And then Sticker Star happened.
And then Luigi's Mansion: Dark Moon happened.
And then New Super Mario Bros began to slowly embed itself as the new face of Mario.
Mario very suddenly changed. It wasn't my Mario. It was someone else's.
One of the most scathing lines I've ever written about a video game was against Sticker Star. It's emblematic of the bitterness I felt towards this new direction.
"Sticker Star is a game about the IP coming first. Mario must forever be what he was from Super Mario Bros 3, a game from 30 years ago."
Mario's IP had become stagnant with the amount of character put into it. Whether it be because Miyamoto desired this, or Nintendo's higher ups requesting brand consistency, Mario was no longer allowed to break the mold from himself. Mario had to be one exact way. Plain vanilla without any toppings.
Up until Super Mario Bros: Wonder's announcement, I thought Mario Odyssey was a fluke. Mario was trying a style of game they've long since abandoned. Mario Odyssey has become one of my favorite games of all time, but in the gaze of hindsight, it always felt like Nintendo was just throwing me a bone. "Here's what you wanted, " they'd say, "now we'll just continue with New Super Mario Bros." Back to the milquetoast.
Super Mario Bros: Wonder broke that perception. This wasn't just a fluke. This was my Mario again.
I haven't been this excited about a 2D Mario game since Super Mario World. And that's a really good feeling. Mario Wonder is vanilla with sprinkles, chocolate, cherries, oreoes, and all the little treats you'd stick in your dessert. Each and every moment in this game has brought me second guessing what's to come next. Just from the trailer, the sight of Mario with cartoony expressions and animations set my heart ablaze. Seeing Mario in this new, strange style was so bizzare and new — and most importantly — exciting. When the game was finally in my hands, I found there to be so many free form, creative ideas mashed condensely into such a small package that you'd think your copy would burst at the seams. My preferences towards 3D Mario has completely gone out the window at the sight of pure love poured into this game.
The Wonder Seeds sprout up some absolutely adorable ideas. At one moment you could find yourself suddenly in space, or riding a Yoshi-like dragon, or within a musical number. This game makes great use of musical motifs, having gameplay and music sync up with the beat. You have your standard Mario power up variations, all of which are fun, but badges to shake up the mix significantly with some really fun variety. Self imposed challenges are now a thing you can try, the player is more in control of their own playstyle. This makes for something new each time you decide to play, or even while you're playing. Everything just feels solid to control. Level design runs on all cylinders, each idea staying and leaving just enough to make you feel satisfied. The online functionality gave me a wonderful sense of community, steering my fellow ghostly players into the right direction, and coming out the other side of a tough level together, a sense of comradery between us. The final encounter with Bowser had me smiling ear to ear with just how cool it all was. Every musical orientated gimmick made my heart flutter with joy.
There was a moment leading up to Bowser. His final level is a strange mish mash of all the gimmicks you've encountered, all coming together. Music built up, musically encorporating into the level itself, and then suddenly silence as you switch over to floating into space. One of the flowers said something that really struck a chord with me.
"Look how far you've come."
Upon these very simple words, I nearly teared up.
This game felt like a journey. Like a sense of discovery. A newfound identity has been molded and reconstructed from what Nintendo has learned and built up over the years since the GameCube. The spirit of the Gamecube lives on, only in a more constructive manner.
And I couldn't be happier to say that my Mario is back.
I grew up with Mario. Mario 64 was my first game ever. I was a GameCube kid through and through and an early Wii adopter. The GameCube represented Nintendo doing their own thing. Creating wacky games with strange gimmicks that innovated and kept you wondering. Sunshine was my favorite mainline Mario game. Luigi's Mansion was one of my favorite spin off series. Paper Mario was my favorite video game series ever. Paper Mario represented everything I loved about the Mario I grew up with. Interesting, playful, subversive, full of character. You never knew what to expect.
And then Sticker Star happened.
And then Luigi's Mansion: Dark Moon happened.
And then New Super Mario Bros began to slowly embed itself as the new face of Mario.
Mario very suddenly changed. It wasn't my Mario. It was someone else's.
One of the most scathing lines I've ever written about a video game was against Sticker Star. It's emblematic of the bitterness I felt towards this new direction.
"Sticker Star is a game about the IP coming first. Mario must forever be what he was from Super Mario Bros 3, a game from 30 years ago."
Mario's IP had become stagnant with the amount of character put into it. Whether it be because Miyamoto desired this, or Nintendo's higher ups requesting brand consistency, Mario was no longer allowed to break the mold from himself. Mario had to be one exact way. Plain vanilla without any toppings.
Up until Super Mario Bros: Wonder's announcement, I thought Mario Odyssey was a fluke. Mario was trying a style of game they've long since abandoned. Mario Odyssey has become one of my favorite games of all time, but in the gaze of hindsight, it always felt like Nintendo was just throwing me a bone. "Here's what you wanted, " they'd say, "now we'll just continue with New Super Mario Bros." Back to the milquetoast.
Super Mario Bros: Wonder broke that perception. This wasn't just a fluke. This was my Mario again.
I haven't been this excited about a 2D Mario game since Super Mario World. And that's a really good feeling. Mario Wonder is vanilla with sprinkles, chocolate, cherries, oreoes, and all the little treats you'd stick in your dessert. Each and every moment in this game has brought me second guessing what's to come next. Just from the trailer, the sight of Mario with cartoony expressions and animations set my heart ablaze. Seeing Mario in this new, strange style was so bizzare and new — and most importantly — exciting. When the game was finally in my hands, I found there to be so many free form, creative ideas mashed condensely into such a small package that you'd think your copy would burst at the seams. My preferences towards 3D Mario has completely gone out the window at the sight of pure love poured into this game.
The Wonder Seeds sprout up some absolutely adorable ideas. At one moment you could find yourself suddenly in space, or riding a Yoshi-like dragon, or within a musical number. This game makes great use of musical motifs, having gameplay and music sync up with the beat. You have your standard Mario power up variations, all of which are fun, but badges to shake up the mix significantly with some really fun variety. Self imposed challenges are now a thing you can try, the player is more in control of their own playstyle. This makes for something new each time you decide to play, or even while you're playing. Everything just feels solid to control. Level design runs on all cylinders, each idea staying and leaving just enough to make you feel satisfied. The online functionality gave me a wonderful sense of community, steering my fellow ghostly players into the right direction, and coming out the other side of a tough level together, a sense of comradery between us. The final encounter with Bowser had me smiling ear to ear with just how cool it all was. Every musical orientated gimmick made my heart flutter with joy.
There was a moment leading up to Bowser. His final level is a strange mish mash of all the gimmicks you've encountered, all coming together. Music built up, musically encorporating into the level itself, and then suddenly silence as you switch over to floating into space. One of the flowers said something that really struck a chord with me.
"Look how far you've come."
Upon these very simple words, I nearly teared up.
This game felt like a journey. Like a sense of discovery. A newfound identity has been molded and reconstructed from what Nintendo has learned and built up over the years since the GameCube. The spirit of the Gamecube lives on, only in a more constructive manner.
And I couldn't be happier to say that my Mario is back.
Sequels are often difficult to perfect.
You have an original concept that you've laid the foundation for. This foundation is often original, innovative, and refreshingly new.
When it comes to making a sequel then, constructing a game that lives up to these qualities is an uphill battle. Expectations are now set that were birthed from a new established standard, and those standards not only require to be met, but are expected to surpass them.
In my Crash Bandicoot 3 review, I talked about a specific type of sequel that developers attempt to fulfill this: more is better. On occasion, it is true that more can be better. Systems can be refined, tweaked, expanded upon, bringing about new and exciting ways to approach the original game's foundation.
Doom II does this approach, and it never quite makes the mark of surpassing the original.
Doom's original maps were quick and to the point, driving the combat forward. Ideas would be set up, played with, and onto the next. Every part of the buffalo was used.
Doom II lengthens and expands on these concepts, jam packing them into levels. These levels last up to 5-20 minutes, sometimes even longer if you became lost, compared to Doom's 5-10 minutes.
By the time I reached the middle of Act 3, I was becoming fatigued.
Not to say that the quality of these levels are poor - far from it. These levels bring about interesting ideas that warrant Doom II to exist and become qualified as a great sequel... It's just not as engaging as the first game.
Doom II puts much more emphasis on the setting than the original ever attempted. Doom's slow decline into hell was effective, but would often sacrifice any semblance of tangibility in it's environments in strong favor for tight level design.
Doom II takes Doom's original act progression but diversifies the environments, which in turn ends up constructing a more cohesive feeling. You're still traversing through dark metallic corridors with the occasional flesh walls and demonic infection spreading throughout until finally taking over completely, but they're expanded by including long stretches of terrain, a larger surplus of baddies, and more buildings and structures to enter into.
Because of this, it's easier to set yourself into this world. In the back of my head as I mowed down demons in droves, I reflected on the idea that these structures are of an earth brought into hell, and the effect that the chaos would have over it's populace. There was something more tangible to these areas that felt more lived in as a real place than previously before.
By it's nature of developing a sense of place, this means that level design isn't going to be as fundamentally solid in comparison to the original's. Coupled with the ideals to make a bigger and more expansive sequel, this causes the level design to feel like I'm meandering about, rather than running and gunning down levels.
I would say that despite it all, it's still astonishing for Doom II to accomplish a sense of atmosphere given this is a game released in 1994.
... That is, until I realized that 1994 is the very same year that Super Metroid, Earthbound, System Shock, Donkey Kong Country, and Marathon all released. Some of these games managed to do more with less, some even managed to do more with competing contemporary technology.
Despite that, Doom II mostly surpasses these games in terms of level design even still, (except Super Metroid), which is arguably the more important feat. On the same coin though, it's ultimately more of the same: Doom with extra levels.
For a sequel, you would expect an increase to the weapon sandbox. Doom II only has one new weapon, and that's the Super Shotgun.
And let me tell you, the inclusion of the Super Shotgun is the primary reason why I wanted to play Doom II immediately after it's prequel. It's damage output combined with it's meaty sound effect and animation really makes an impact on you, as well as any demon foolish enough to stand in your way. A gun this good is a worthy justification of a sequel. Sometimes less is more.
That being said, while the weapon pool doesn't need to be expanded further, I do wish there were more mechanics that played into the level design that transformed this formula into something more interesting.
But that's the thing, yeah? Doom II doesn't set out to expand a formula. It's goal is to make more Doom. And as I've learned, Doom is fucking awesome. But while Doom II is still awesome, it's attempt to achieve the "more is better" approach for a sequel just isn't as effective on me.
But that also doesn't mean that Doom II doesn't still fucking rule though.
You have an original concept that you've laid the foundation for. This foundation is often original, innovative, and refreshingly new.
When it comes to making a sequel then, constructing a game that lives up to these qualities is an uphill battle. Expectations are now set that were birthed from a new established standard, and those standards not only require to be met, but are expected to surpass them.
In my Crash Bandicoot 3 review, I talked about a specific type of sequel that developers attempt to fulfill this: more is better. On occasion, it is true that more can be better. Systems can be refined, tweaked, expanded upon, bringing about new and exciting ways to approach the original game's foundation.
Doom II does this approach, and it never quite makes the mark of surpassing the original.
Doom's original maps were quick and to the point, driving the combat forward. Ideas would be set up, played with, and onto the next. Every part of the buffalo was used.
Doom II lengthens and expands on these concepts, jam packing them into levels. These levels last up to 5-20 minutes, sometimes even longer if you became lost, compared to Doom's 5-10 minutes.
By the time I reached the middle of Act 3, I was becoming fatigued.
Not to say that the quality of these levels are poor - far from it. These levels bring about interesting ideas that warrant Doom II to exist and become qualified as a great sequel... It's just not as engaging as the first game.
Doom II puts much more emphasis on the setting than the original ever attempted. Doom's slow decline into hell was effective, but would often sacrifice any semblance of tangibility in it's environments in strong favor for tight level design.
Doom II takes Doom's original act progression but diversifies the environments, which in turn ends up constructing a more cohesive feeling. You're still traversing through dark metallic corridors with the occasional flesh walls and demonic infection spreading throughout until finally taking over completely, but they're expanded by including long stretches of terrain, a larger surplus of baddies, and more buildings and structures to enter into.
Because of this, it's easier to set yourself into this world. In the back of my head as I mowed down demons in droves, I reflected on the idea that these structures are of an earth brought into hell, and the effect that the chaos would have over it's populace. There was something more tangible to these areas that felt more lived in as a real place than previously before.
By it's nature of developing a sense of place, this means that level design isn't going to be as fundamentally solid in comparison to the original's. Coupled with the ideals to make a bigger and more expansive sequel, this causes the level design to feel like I'm meandering about, rather than running and gunning down levels.
I would say that despite it all, it's still astonishing for Doom II to accomplish a sense of atmosphere given this is a game released in 1994.
... That is, until I realized that 1994 is the very same year that Super Metroid, Earthbound, System Shock, Donkey Kong Country, and Marathon all released. Some of these games managed to do more with less, some even managed to do more with competing contemporary technology.
Despite that, Doom II mostly surpasses these games in terms of level design even still, (except Super Metroid), which is arguably the more important feat. On the same coin though, it's ultimately more of the same: Doom with extra levels.
For a sequel, you would expect an increase to the weapon sandbox. Doom II only has one new weapon, and that's the Super Shotgun.
And let me tell you, the inclusion of the Super Shotgun is the primary reason why I wanted to play Doom II immediately after it's prequel. It's damage output combined with it's meaty sound effect and animation really makes an impact on you, as well as any demon foolish enough to stand in your way. A gun this good is a worthy justification of a sequel. Sometimes less is more.
That being said, while the weapon pool doesn't need to be expanded further, I do wish there were more mechanics that played into the level design that transformed this formula into something more interesting.
But that's the thing, yeah? Doom II doesn't set out to expand a formula. It's goal is to make more Doom. And as I've learned, Doom is fucking awesome. But while Doom II is still awesome, it's attempt to achieve the "more is better" approach for a sequel just isn't as effective on me.
But that also doesn't mean that Doom II doesn't still fucking rule though.
2023
Warioland 4 has always been a game that's stuck out in Nintendo's library. It's a game that throws a smorgasbord of ideas at you. Each level is packed with an interesting gimmick, and it never seems to falter with it's bombastic tone.
Pizza Tower takes Warioland as a concept, and puts it into a more modern, speed focused perspective. What it accomplishes in the 8 hours that I've played is nothing short of astonishing!
Fast, energetic puzzle platforming, with an insane amount of movement tech that expands just how fast you can speed through levels. Grabbing an enemy and pile driving them into other ones while still maintaining your momentum is insanely satisfying! There's moves I'm still not entirely sure how to do, or string together, but it just shows the mechanical depth to the moveset. There's also a combo meter as well as a ranking system, which play intandum with each other to create a high, but rewarding skill ceiling. Being able to get an S rank in this game will require mechanical and level mastery, which will be something I'll have do at a later point in time. This is the type of game that will really shine with repeated playthroughs, and I can tell just tell that's what the intention of the designers wanted it to be. Usually I'm not very good with ranking systems, (I tend to get frustrated with aiming for perfection), but who knows, maybe I'll get something out of this game's ranking system.
The boss battles in this game are excellently designed, each feeling like a tough but fair challenge. They're all about learning the attack patterns and when you can attack, and it's all telegraphed effortlessly. The final boss to this game is fantastic, another one of those final bosses that takes everything you've learned from the game thus far and tests you on it. It also acts as a bit of a boss rush mode, but cut down for impact and time. It's insanely good!
I'm in love with the ugly expressions of the characters. The art tends to be rough around the edges and bombastic, while being really well animated. Not everything is consistent, and that's absolutely okay, since it brings out such a wild and expressive attitude. It's that sort of early NewGrounds rough-ness that I love, but grown leaps and bounds in both a technical and artistic prowess.
I would make every facial expression in this game a fucking profile picture, they're all my little scrimblos.
The music to this game runs on all cylinders. Each track is energetic and full of early SNES-Sega era inspired tunes and samples. Sometimes funky, sometimes chip tune, sometimes groovy. A lot, and I mean A LOT of this soundtrack rules. The final boss's music, which is about 3 different variations to fit the different phases, are so wildly different and insane sounding. Absolutely my favorite tracks from a game that's already full of absolute treasures.
Man, Pizza Tower just fucking rules in general. It's another one of those games this year that has just put a big goofy smile on my face. If there was ever a complaint, it would probably be that levels sometimes gate you forward if you missed a topping, making you have to replay the entire level. Which can be somewhat annoying given that these levels tend to be more on the long side. But it's whatever, I had the same problem in Warioland 4, and it's more of a preference thing anyways.
Pizza Tower takes Warioland as a concept, and puts it into a more modern, speed focused perspective. What it accomplishes in the 8 hours that I've played is nothing short of astonishing!
Fast, energetic puzzle platforming, with an insane amount of movement tech that expands just how fast you can speed through levels. Grabbing an enemy and pile driving them into other ones while still maintaining your momentum is insanely satisfying! There's moves I'm still not entirely sure how to do, or string together, but it just shows the mechanical depth to the moveset. There's also a combo meter as well as a ranking system, which play intandum with each other to create a high, but rewarding skill ceiling. Being able to get an S rank in this game will require mechanical and level mastery, which will be something I'll have do at a later point in time. This is the type of game that will really shine with repeated playthroughs, and I can tell just tell that's what the intention of the designers wanted it to be. Usually I'm not very good with ranking systems, (I tend to get frustrated with aiming for perfection), but who knows, maybe I'll get something out of this game's ranking system.
The boss battles in this game are excellently designed, each feeling like a tough but fair challenge. They're all about learning the attack patterns and when you can attack, and it's all telegraphed effortlessly. The final boss to this game is fantastic, another one of those final bosses that takes everything you've learned from the game thus far and tests you on it. It also acts as a bit of a boss rush mode, but cut down for impact and time. It's insanely good!
I'm in love with the ugly expressions of the characters. The art tends to be rough around the edges and bombastic, while being really well animated. Not everything is consistent, and that's absolutely okay, since it brings out such a wild and expressive attitude. It's that sort of early NewGrounds rough-ness that I love, but grown leaps and bounds in both a technical and artistic prowess.
I would make every facial expression in this game a fucking profile picture, they're all my little scrimblos.
The music to this game runs on all cylinders. Each track is energetic and full of early SNES-Sega era inspired tunes and samples. Sometimes funky, sometimes chip tune, sometimes groovy. A lot, and I mean A LOT of this soundtrack rules. The final boss's music, which is about 3 different variations to fit the different phases, are so wildly different and insane sounding. Absolutely my favorite tracks from a game that's already full of absolute treasures.
Man, Pizza Tower just fucking rules in general. It's another one of those games this year that has just put a big goofy smile on my face. If there was ever a complaint, it would probably be that levels sometimes gate you forward if you missed a topping, making you have to replay the entire level. Which can be somewhat annoying given that these levels tend to be more on the long side. But it's whatever, I had the same problem in Warioland 4, and it's more of a preference thing anyways.
2019
Luigi's Mansion 3 is not the original Luigi's Mansion. More importantly, it is also not Luigi's Mansion 2.
As a statement on it's own, that couldn't be any less obvious. Like, come on, duh Spike, the brain brigade must have been working overtime on that one. As obvious as it may be, on an emotional level, it's a statement I didn't know I needed to acknowledge. It wasn't until I've finally played Luigi's Mansion 3 with my own two hands that the realization occurred.
For context, as hinted with in my Super Mario Bros: Wonder review, Luigi's Mansion: Dark Moon was a game I felt immensely disappointed by. Gone was the arcade-y set up of the original, the breezy and focused gameplay now replaced by a mission based structure with content that felt as if it's sole purpose was to extend the game's length. The terrifying chills and larger-than-life character given to the ghouls within the titular mansion were replaced with copy-pasted enemy fodder with zero charm, with your run-of-the-mill spooks and specters serving as your boss battles. Even the music was butchered from it's ghostly synths and harmonic whomps setting the ambience of the mansion perfectly. From the haunting Mansion theme to the silly and off putting funk beat made to emphasize Dr. E. Gadd's zaniness, it fit the mood like a glove. With Dark Moon, all it's soundtrack provided was a vapid, boring, safe score that never instilled anything into you. Maybe light-hearted whimsy at the most, the opposite of how I felt I should be feeling.
This is how I felt at the time, and given that I haven't replayed Luigi's Mansion 2 since my teens, it's easy to see why I was so apathetic to Luigi's Mansion 3 when it was first announced. I felt no desire to give the game a try, not after the immense disappointment I had experienced. The series had left me behind and was attempting a style I didn't really care for, so I figured, why bother with this one?
Fast forward to now. 5 years have passed since Luigi's Mansion 3, and a decade since I touched Luigi's Mansion: Dark Moon. The disappointment and bitterness from my teen years have been shedded away by years of self reflection and personal growth. I've reflected on a lot of my personal life and my gaming life as I've grown, and re-evaluating the Luigi's Mansion series has been on my to-do list. Gratefully, I received this game as a gift for my birthday, and playing the game now in 2023 has left me with a number of thoughts that needed to be revalued.
The very first thought that came across my mind was exactly the first sentence of this review: Luigi's Mansion 3 is not Luigi's Mansion.
Luigi's Mansion 3 feels tonally off from the original game. In the original Luigi's Mansion, the ghosts as a collective had their quirks, but they were offset by ones that were more unnerving. Something about Chauncey the baby makes me uncomfortable. This pampered child shrinks you down to a pea's size, places you into a portal dimension, and tries to make you his play thing as he throws a temper tantrum, screeching demonically at you for giving him an owie. Bogmire is another great example. He's faceless in a sea of colorful faces, and he behaves so differently from everything else in the game. He's unsettling and gives the game a strong sense of mystery just from his presence alone. In Luigi's Mansion 3, there's a distinct lack of edge.
Alongside the characters of the ghosts themselves, there are design decisions within Luigi's Mansion 3 that stick out from being lost in translation from converting the original game's gameplay sensibilities to their new format. In Luigi's Mansion, the game would let you wander into a room and discover for yourself that something wasn't right. There were exceptions, of course, but this was a constant. Typically, you'd walk into a darkened room, and an object would appear to move or float before you. You wouldn't see the ghost right away, which lead into a puzzle solving phase of finding the right way to expose it's heart. This is very subtle, but this structure added a layer of uncertainty to these paranormal encounters. They're unknown until they're seen. You watch their actions to determine what their personalities are like. You're within the process of discovery yourself. With Luigi's Mansion 3, these boss ghosts are set up with a cutscene, taking the time to introduce themselves up front and personal, which loses a lot of the mystic and agency given to the player.
These critiques are based on a purposely faulty premise, however. All of these criticisms would be valid of Luigi's Mansion 3 if the game was attempting to contain the same tone as the original.
But again, Luigi's Mansion 3 is not Luigi's Mansion.
Instead, Luigi's Mansion 3 goes for a more light hearted tone with it's horror. The kind of tone that might startle you, but will make you smile after it's done. Ghosts jump scare you from time to time, but they're usually doing something goofy to deflate your fear and convert it to a smile. There's only one really mean jump scare, and that would be on Floor 8, Paranormal Productions. The entire game has been lulling you in for a false sense of security up until a bear statue just decides to violently grab you. Even then, the designers felt so bad for this that they give you plenty of money as an apology. It's the perfect example of this game's MO.
Much like Resident Evil 4 was to the original Resident Evil, Luigi's Mansion 3 puts the focus on action rather than scares. The gameplay uses the same design keys of capturing ghosts and performing small puzzles to figure out how to capture said ghosts, but it's recontextualized into a more gameified feel. The tools at your disposal have expanded, your list of actions increasing from a mere suck and blow.
Don't, don't mind that phrasing—
Sucking up the environment is a strong part of the gameplay loop now. The added physics to every object within the hotel creates an addicting kleptomanic drive to vaccum out anything and everything valuable from this shady hotel. The game feel to this reminds me of Paper Mario: Origami King and it's ability to make the simple act of hitting things feel immensely satisfying. The noises, the chaotic clutter of objects flying about, it's simply joyful.
Unlike Origami King though, it's main gameplay loop is also satisfying. The hotel is structured with each floor acting as a level to explore, setting up gags, ghosts to gobble up, and ghoulish bosses to grapple with. Flinging ghosts by slamming their ectoplasmic bodies sharply to the ground makes combat feel crunchy, which is something I neglected when I played Dark Moon many years ago. There indeed IS substance to this gameplay style that appeals to me, it was just hidden through a distinct lack of soul given to the direction.
The hotel is structured similar to the mission like structure of Dark Moon, creating bite sized chunks with tasks set out for you to accomplish. Yet, Luigi's Mansion 3 is not Luigi's Mansion 2. The game doesn't cause you to go back in and out of E. Gadd's lab to complete an objective, and if it does, you can quickly teleport there and back to where you last left off. Each floor builds upon gimmicks culminating in a boss fight. These bosses typically use mechanics already established through the floor you've spend the last 30 minutes on, finding clever ways to plunger enemies and drag them down, using your pal Gooigi to double team them in elaborate methods, along with an assortment of other tricks up it's sleeve. It's all fairly enjoyable. I almost wish there were more tools to expand your equipment in more interesting ways, but with what they accomplished here felt like they had enough to work with.
There's more I could say about the bosses not quite meeting my expectations in terms of personalities, the music not quite hitting the highs of the original game's, the overall structure causing me to put the game down more than feeling a strong urge to keep trucking forward. But these are all aspects that come down to personal preference. The structure plays well to the game's strengths. There's more to do and explore from this concept. The bosses and music are bit too light-hearted, but again, the tone of the game is different by design. You can't capture the same magic if your goal was never to do so. What's there is still charming. My teenage self wouldn't have understood that.
I'm no longer the bitter sad sap I once was, and my reaction towards Luigi's Mansion 3 has been a reflection of that change to me. 5 years ago me and teenage me were wrong, both for different reasons. This gameplay style does suite me — it just took another entry with refinements to prove that it did. Just because it's not the same tonally from what I loved in the past doesn't mean I can't still enjoy the game.
Are there aspects lost from this direction? Sure. Do I prefer Luigi's Mansion over 3? Of course I do. It's my childhood favorite, it's hard not to. But this does not make Luigi's Mansion 3 any less valid in existing like I once so stubbornly believed. Luigi's Mansion 3 executes ideas pulled off within it so superbly well, it's hard not to love it. And that feels good to say.
As a statement on it's own, that couldn't be any less obvious. Like, come on, duh Spike, the brain brigade must have been working overtime on that one. As obvious as it may be, on an emotional level, it's a statement I didn't know I needed to acknowledge. It wasn't until I've finally played Luigi's Mansion 3 with my own two hands that the realization occurred.
For context, as hinted with in my Super Mario Bros: Wonder review, Luigi's Mansion: Dark Moon was a game I felt immensely disappointed by. Gone was the arcade-y set up of the original, the breezy and focused gameplay now replaced by a mission based structure with content that felt as if it's sole purpose was to extend the game's length. The terrifying chills and larger-than-life character given to the ghouls within the titular mansion were replaced with copy-pasted enemy fodder with zero charm, with your run-of-the-mill spooks and specters serving as your boss battles. Even the music was butchered from it's ghostly synths and harmonic whomps setting the ambience of the mansion perfectly. From the haunting Mansion theme to the silly and off putting funk beat made to emphasize Dr. E. Gadd's zaniness, it fit the mood like a glove. With Dark Moon, all it's soundtrack provided was a vapid, boring, safe score that never instilled anything into you. Maybe light-hearted whimsy at the most, the opposite of how I felt I should be feeling.
This is how I felt at the time, and given that I haven't replayed Luigi's Mansion 2 since my teens, it's easy to see why I was so apathetic to Luigi's Mansion 3 when it was first announced. I felt no desire to give the game a try, not after the immense disappointment I had experienced. The series had left me behind and was attempting a style I didn't really care for, so I figured, why bother with this one?
Fast forward to now. 5 years have passed since Luigi's Mansion 3, and a decade since I touched Luigi's Mansion: Dark Moon. The disappointment and bitterness from my teen years have been shedded away by years of self reflection and personal growth. I've reflected on a lot of my personal life and my gaming life as I've grown, and re-evaluating the Luigi's Mansion series has been on my to-do list. Gratefully, I received this game as a gift for my birthday, and playing the game now in 2023 has left me with a number of thoughts that needed to be revalued.
The very first thought that came across my mind was exactly the first sentence of this review: Luigi's Mansion 3 is not Luigi's Mansion.
Luigi's Mansion 3 feels tonally off from the original game. In the original Luigi's Mansion, the ghosts as a collective had their quirks, but they were offset by ones that were more unnerving. Something about Chauncey the baby makes me uncomfortable. This pampered child shrinks you down to a pea's size, places you into a portal dimension, and tries to make you his play thing as he throws a temper tantrum, screeching demonically at you for giving him an owie. Bogmire is another great example. He's faceless in a sea of colorful faces, and he behaves so differently from everything else in the game. He's unsettling and gives the game a strong sense of mystery just from his presence alone. In Luigi's Mansion 3, there's a distinct lack of edge.
Alongside the characters of the ghosts themselves, there are design decisions within Luigi's Mansion 3 that stick out from being lost in translation from converting the original game's gameplay sensibilities to their new format. In Luigi's Mansion, the game would let you wander into a room and discover for yourself that something wasn't right. There were exceptions, of course, but this was a constant. Typically, you'd walk into a darkened room, and an object would appear to move or float before you. You wouldn't see the ghost right away, which lead into a puzzle solving phase of finding the right way to expose it's heart. This is very subtle, but this structure added a layer of uncertainty to these paranormal encounters. They're unknown until they're seen. You watch their actions to determine what their personalities are like. You're within the process of discovery yourself. With Luigi's Mansion 3, these boss ghosts are set up with a cutscene, taking the time to introduce themselves up front and personal, which loses a lot of the mystic and agency given to the player.
These critiques are based on a purposely faulty premise, however. All of these criticisms would be valid of Luigi's Mansion 3 if the game was attempting to contain the same tone as the original.
But again, Luigi's Mansion 3 is not Luigi's Mansion.
Instead, Luigi's Mansion 3 goes for a more light hearted tone with it's horror. The kind of tone that might startle you, but will make you smile after it's done. Ghosts jump scare you from time to time, but they're usually doing something goofy to deflate your fear and convert it to a smile. There's only one really mean jump scare, and that would be on Floor 8, Paranormal Productions. The entire game has been lulling you in for a false sense of security up until a bear statue just decides to violently grab you. Even then, the designers felt so bad for this that they give you plenty of money as an apology. It's the perfect example of this game's MO.
Much like Resident Evil 4 was to the original Resident Evil, Luigi's Mansion 3 puts the focus on action rather than scares. The gameplay uses the same design keys of capturing ghosts and performing small puzzles to figure out how to capture said ghosts, but it's recontextualized into a more gameified feel. The tools at your disposal have expanded, your list of actions increasing from a mere suck and blow.
Don't, don't mind that phrasing—
Sucking up the environment is a strong part of the gameplay loop now. The added physics to every object within the hotel creates an addicting kleptomanic drive to vaccum out anything and everything valuable from this shady hotel. The game feel to this reminds me of Paper Mario: Origami King and it's ability to make the simple act of hitting things feel immensely satisfying. The noises, the chaotic clutter of objects flying about, it's simply joyful.
Unlike Origami King though, it's main gameplay loop is also satisfying. The hotel is structured with each floor acting as a level to explore, setting up gags, ghosts to gobble up, and ghoulish bosses to grapple with. Flinging ghosts by slamming their ectoplasmic bodies sharply to the ground makes combat feel crunchy, which is something I neglected when I played Dark Moon many years ago. There indeed IS substance to this gameplay style that appeals to me, it was just hidden through a distinct lack of soul given to the direction.
The hotel is structured similar to the mission like structure of Dark Moon, creating bite sized chunks with tasks set out for you to accomplish. Yet, Luigi's Mansion 3 is not Luigi's Mansion 2. The game doesn't cause you to go back in and out of E. Gadd's lab to complete an objective, and if it does, you can quickly teleport there and back to where you last left off. Each floor builds upon gimmicks culminating in a boss fight. These bosses typically use mechanics already established through the floor you've spend the last 30 minutes on, finding clever ways to plunger enemies and drag them down, using your pal Gooigi to double team them in elaborate methods, along with an assortment of other tricks up it's sleeve. It's all fairly enjoyable. I almost wish there were more tools to expand your equipment in more interesting ways, but with what they accomplished here felt like they had enough to work with.
There's more I could say about the bosses not quite meeting my expectations in terms of personalities, the music not quite hitting the highs of the original game's, the overall structure causing me to put the game down more than feeling a strong urge to keep trucking forward. But these are all aspects that come down to personal preference. The structure plays well to the game's strengths. There's more to do and explore from this concept. The bosses and music are bit too light-hearted, but again, the tone of the game is different by design. You can't capture the same magic if your goal was never to do so. What's there is still charming. My teenage self wouldn't have understood that.
I'm no longer the bitter sad sap I once was, and my reaction towards Luigi's Mansion 3 has been a reflection of that change to me. 5 years ago me and teenage me were wrong, both for different reasons. This gameplay style does suite me — it just took another entry with refinements to prove that it did. Just because it's not the same tonally from what I loved in the past doesn't mean I can't still enjoy the game.
Are there aspects lost from this direction? Sure. Do I prefer Luigi's Mansion over 3? Of course I do. It's my childhood favorite, it's hard not to. But this does not make Luigi's Mansion 3 any less valid in existing like I once so stubbornly believed. Luigi's Mansion 3 executes ideas pulled off within it so superbly well, it's hard not to love it. And that feels good to say.
2000
Treasure is one of those companies that once you've learned their existence, you begin to want to tell everyone about them. They're such a free flowing development team that output a lot of insanely good games, with a diversity of genres. Sin And Punishment is just one within their ranks, and it's take on an arcade shooter is phenomenal.
Their specialty are boss fights, they really understand the push and pull a boss fight should give the player. There's a lot you can study by replaying the game and understanding the mechanics of how they function, what they set up for the player, and how to take them down.
I haven't played this in quite a while, so I don't have a lot of pungent things to say that really get into the nitty gritty of what makes the game work, but it's such a great game, you guys, holy shit, go play Treasure games.
Their specialty are boss fights, they really understand the push and pull a boss fight should give the player. There's a lot you can study by replaying the game and understanding the mechanics of how they function, what they set up for the player, and how to take them down.
I haven't played this in quite a while, so I don't have a lot of pungent things to say that really get into the nitty gritty of what makes the game work, but it's such a great game, you guys, holy shit, go play Treasure games.
2022
I'm having trouble seeing what everyone else sees in this game. Maybe it's because I went with a Strength+Endurance Great Sword build, maybe it's because I had covid while playing this and it's affected my mood towards the game. Maybe it just didn't click with me for reasons I'll get into. But whatever the case is, I didn't seem to enjoy Elden Ring as much as others have. And that bothers me.
In previous Souls games, a lot of what made those games interesting for me was that their design involved a lot of interlooping paths. It's similar to how a Metroidvania is designed, where one area is locked off by progression gates that you open to bring about shortcuts for that area. Elden Ring has this, but only in the more linear areas of the game that are there for progression. The rest of the world, in turn, is designed like a regular AAA open world map, albeit with the non-linearity of other Fromsoft games. The non-linearity is great, and I understand the appreciation for it. The open world part is where I get confused with the praise. A lot of it is your standard tropes of open world design; small dungeons, forts, repeating geometry, paths within the terrain that direct you where you need to go, enemies scattered everywhere, reused bosses to fill out open world. All of this is stuff I've already seen before in other games, and in games I love, but just with a Dark Souls twist to it. Which, if you're really, REALLY into open world games, and you're really, REALLY into Souls games, it's probably like chocolate and peanut butter making out for the first time. Which is great, I love seeing those two suck face! But to me, it's a lot more of the same from each. And I'm beginning to become fatigued by it.
This may be Breath of The Wild's fault. My brain may have decided, consciously or unconsciously, that anything that doesn't provide the same feelings that Breath of the Wild has given me for open world games is a lesser experience. Which isn't a fair point of comparison. Breath of the Wild isn't a perfect game, and if someone with different tastes felt the same way about it the way I do with Elden Ring, I think I would understand where their preferences lie. I am in love with exploring. I love interacting with the environment. So climbing everything and seeing where I could go, what I could do, what I could skip, what I could manipulate, was something that appealed greatly to me. Elden Ring is more for the type of person who wants to control a build, customize it, and do crazy damage to tough enemies through their own skill mastery.
But I think there's a point where the Dark Souls and the route they took with the open world design tends to clash. I think it's also, in part, because they've broaded the appeal of the games to a wider number of players. They provide the player with a lot of options to get through the game much easier. Dark Souls has done this before with things like summons, but they usually required some drawbacks like the use of humanity. Here, it's simply a matter of finding the right summon, leveling them up through grinding, and having them do most of the work, or distracting the boss. On top of this, enemies tend to be a lot easier, especially given the fact that you can summon your mount almost whenever. This means normal enemies, mid-boss enemies, and certain boss enemies become a repeated game of using your horse to circle around the boss and hit them until they're dead. And when the horse is essentially an incredibly fast option with the only drawback is if you take enough damage, your horse uses up a healing item, it's by far the best option to pick from. Not to say that the game can't be challenging, because it can be, but the selection pool of my options feels less strategic when all I'm really doing is circling an enemy with my horse and chopping them down as my summon distracts them. The easiest option for the player tends to be the one that the player goes and chooses. It's best to prevent those types of things entering your game if possible. It's like with back stabbing abuse in Dark Souls 1, it's usually the most effective, and would get used a lot. But you still had more interesting options to roll, dodge, parry attacks with Dark Souls 1, with the horse strat, you're just running around.
Maybe in a couple of years, I'll come back to Elden Ring, and give it another chance. I'll try a new build, I'll try different strategies, I'll try not to think about other games. Who knows, maybe I'll like it more. It would not be the first, nor will it be the last, where I go back to a game that I didn't much care for and take away something different. But as of right now, I don't get why people love Elden Ring. And it's going to keep bother me.
In previous Souls games, a lot of what made those games interesting for me was that their design involved a lot of interlooping paths. It's similar to how a Metroidvania is designed, where one area is locked off by progression gates that you open to bring about shortcuts for that area. Elden Ring has this, but only in the more linear areas of the game that are there for progression. The rest of the world, in turn, is designed like a regular AAA open world map, albeit with the non-linearity of other Fromsoft games. The non-linearity is great, and I understand the appreciation for it. The open world part is where I get confused with the praise. A lot of it is your standard tropes of open world design; small dungeons, forts, repeating geometry, paths within the terrain that direct you where you need to go, enemies scattered everywhere, reused bosses to fill out open world. All of this is stuff I've already seen before in other games, and in games I love, but just with a Dark Souls twist to it. Which, if you're really, REALLY into open world games, and you're really, REALLY into Souls games, it's probably like chocolate and peanut butter making out for the first time. Which is great, I love seeing those two suck face! But to me, it's a lot more of the same from each. And I'm beginning to become fatigued by it.
This may be Breath of The Wild's fault. My brain may have decided, consciously or unconsciously, that anything that doesn't provide the same feelings that Breath of the Wild has given me for open world games is a lesser experience. Which isn't a fair point of comparison. Breath of the Wild isn't a perfect game, and if someone with different tastes felt the same way about it the way I do with Elden Ring, I think I would understand where their preferences lie. I am in love with exploring. I love interacting with the environment. So climbing everything and seeing where I could go, what I could do, what I could skip, what I could manipulate, was something that appealed greatly to me. Elden Ring is more for the type of person who wants to control a build, customize it, and do crazy damage to tough enemies through their own skill mastery.
But I think there's a point where the Dark Souls and the route they took with the open world design tends to clash. I think it's also, in part, because they've broaded the appeal of the games to a wider number of players. They provide the player with a lot of options to get through the game much easier. Dark Souls has done this before with things like summons, but they usually required some drawbacks like the use of humanity. Here, it's simply a matter of finding the right summon, leveling them up through grinding, and having them do most of the work, or distracting the boss. On top of this, enemies tend to be a lot easier, especially given the fact that you can summon your mount almost whenever. This means normal enemies, mid-boss enemies, and certain boss enemies become a repeated game of using your horse to circle around the boss and hit them until they're dead. And when the horse is essentially an incredibly fast option with the only drawback is if you take enough damage, your horse uses up a healing item, it's by far the best option to pick from. Not to say that the game can't be challenging, because it can be, but the selection pool of my options feels less strategic when all I'm really doing is circling an enemy with my horse and chopping them down as my summon distracts them. The easiest option for the player tends to be the one that the player goes and chooses. It's best to prevent those types of things entering your game if possible. It's like with back stabbing abuse in Dark Souls 1, it's usually the most effective, and would get used a lot. But you still had more interesting options to roll, dodge, parry attacks with Dark Souls 1, with the horse strat, you're just running around.
Maybe in a couple of years, I'll come back to Elden Ring, and give it another chance. I'll try a new build, I'll try different strategies, I'll try not to think about other games. Who knows, maybe I'll like it more. It would not be the first, nor will it be the last, where I go back to a game that I didn't much care for and take away something different. But as of right now, I don't get why people love Elden Ring. And it's going to keep bother me.
2023
Super Mario RPG is like magic instilled upon a video game.
My first RPG ever was Paper Mario. I grew up with an N64, so it's not like I had a choice. There were slim pickings, unless I somehow convinced myself into liking Quest 64. Paper Mario 64 was approachable, yet also challenging to the 6 year old body I used to inhabit. It wasn't what made me love RPGs —the sequel did fine work with that job — but it made me fundementally understand what an RPG was. It was my first, and as a first, it sculpted and shaped me into what I expect from a medium.
You'd think because of that very notion, I'd seek out playing Super Mario RPG as soon as I heard word of it's existence. I had picked the game out on the Wii's virtual console after watching a Chuggaaconroy playthrough of the game. I messed with the controls for a tiny bit, made my way to the Mushroom Kingdom, and decided that I'll "come back to it eventually".
This was 12 or so years ago. I was 16. And I haven't played Super Mario RPG until this remake.
Super Mario RPG captures the same magic I felt when I played Paper Mario for the first time. For good reason, of course. Paper Mario was originally going to be the sequel to Super Mario RPG. A lot of the gameplay elements, scenarios, and game feel of SMRPG can be found within every nook and cranny of Paper Mario 64. Both games start in Mario's home and end with a parade with Luigi at the helm. Both games have you battling in turn based combat using action commands. The key difference between the two, is that SMRPG feels more like a traditional RPG than Paper Mario. Multiple party members, different weapons, party members specializing in specific play styles. The action commands are also fundementally different from one another. SMRPG has the player using multiple different weapons, all of which have different timings to their action commands. This is something I was hoping from Paper Mario — different weapon types that create variety within the gameplay. This makes you feel like you're never staying stagnant, mindlessly mashing A as you fight through waves of enemies.
The only problem is, specifically with the remake, is that because you have new systems, like triple move specials, the game becomes incredibly easy. Enemies don't feel very challenging, and bosses, for the most part, feel about on the same level as enemies. The game only managed to wipe my entire party once, and that was toward the end game. I could see this game having a harder difficulty mode that would greatly benefit more seasoned gamers like me with at the very least, a little more resistance. I honestly don't ask for much.
Don't let this glaring problem fool you — SMRPG is absolutely wonderful, endlessly charming, and is the absolute pinnacle embodiment of an SNES game's pure heart and soul. This remake is beautifully made, one of the best remakes I think I've ever experienced in terms of feeling almost 1-to-1, at least from what I've seen of the source material. Music has been enhanced and bursting with ravishing flares. Visuals have be lovingly held intact and expanded upon.
But I'll be remised if I didn't state the lack of difficulty bothered me immensely during my playthrough. In fact, it colored most of the experience. And yet, I'm so hooked on this game's whimsical charm that I have the strong desire to go back to that Wii virtual console copy and play the original. I want to play the game again and explore everything once more.
Love is in the air with this one. Writing my feelings out has made me realize just how enthralled I am by this game. The nagging pessimism within me has been drowned out by the sheer optimism projected by the game and infecting me with it's love. It feels like a magic spell cast upon me, and that's exactly what it's done. Super Mario RPG is magical.
My first RPG ever was Paper Mario. I grew up with an N64, so it's not like I had a choice. There were slim pickings, unless I somehow convinced myself into liking Quest 64. Paper Mario 64 was approachable, yet also challenging to the 6 year old body I used to inhabit. It wasn't what made me love RPGs —the sequel did fine work with that job — but it made me fundementally understand what an RPG was. It was my first, and as a first, it sculpted and shaped me into what I expect from a medium.
You'd think because of that very notion, I'd seek out playing Super Mario RPG as soon as I heard word of it's existence. I had picked the game out on the Wii's virtual console after watching a Chuggaaconroy playthrough of the game. I messed with the controls for a tiny bit, made my way to the Mushroom Kingdom, and decided that I'll "come back to it eventually".
This was 12 or so years ago. I was 16. And I haven't played Super Mario RPG until this remake.
Super Mario RPG captures the same magic I felt when I played Paper Mario for the first time. For good reason, of course. Paper Mario was originally going to be the sequel to Super Mario RPG. A lot of the gameplay elements, scenarios, and game feel of SMRPG can be found within every nook and cranny of Paper Mario 64. Both games start in Mario's home and end with a parade with Luigi at the helm. Both games have you battling in turn based combat using action commands. The key difference between the two, is that SMRPG feels more like a traditional RPG than Paper Mario. Multiple party members, different weapons, party members specializing in specific play styles. The action commands are also fundementally different from one another. SMRPG has the player using multiple different weapons, all of which have different timings to their action commands. This is something I was hoping from Paper Mario — different weapon types that create variety within the gameplay. This makes you feel like you're never staying stagnant, mindlessly mashing A as you fight through waves of enemies.
The only problem is, specifically with the remake, is that because you have new systems, like triple move specials, the game becomes incredibly easy. Enemies don't feel very challenging, and bosses, for the most part, feel about on the same level as enemies. The game only managed to wipe my entire party once, and that was toward the end game. I could see this game having a harder difficulty mode that would greatly benefit more seasoned gamers like me with at the very least, a little more resistance. I honestly don't ask for much.
Don't let this glaring problem fool you — SMRPG is absolutely wonderful, endlessly charming, and is the absolute pinnacle embodiment of an SNES game's pure heart and soul. This remake is beautifully made, one of the best remakes I think I've ever experienced in terms of feeling almost 1-to-1, at least from what I've seen of the source material. Music has been enhanced and bursting with ravishing flares. Visuals have be lovingly held intact and expanded upon.
But I'll be remised if I didn't state the lack of difficulty bothered me immensely during my playthrough. In fact, it colored most of the experience. And yet, I'm so hooked on this game's whimsical charm that I have the strong desire to go back to that Wii virtual console copy and play the original. I want to play the game again and explore everything once more.
Love is in the air with this one. Writing my feelings out has made me realize just how enthralled I am by this game. The nagging pessimism within me has been drowned out by the sheer optimism projected by the game and infecting me with it's love. It feels like a magic spell cast upon me, and that's exactly what it's done. Super Mario RPG is magical.
Ever since Breath of the Wild invigorated the flame underneath me to give the Zelda series another chance, I've finally gotten around to this game. I never thought I was into Zelda growing up. The only game I played to completion was The Wind Waker, and while I really enjoyed that game, other games like OoT never seemed to mesh well with me. Maybe it was the dungeon design not gelling well with me, maybe it was the medieval fantasy setting that never really appealed to me. Either way, none of the Zelda games I had tried up until this point (ALttP, ALBW, OoT) ever really seemed to grab me.
I remembered playing this game at a friend's house many years ago on his Wii, and I've always had this memory of the game feeling and looking dark. It always intrigued me, but for whatever reason, I just never acted on playing it. For many years, I've always had it in the back of my mind that I would really want to try that game at some point. So after trying Link's Awakening and OoT, I decided to finally give it a chance.
The result is that, I think this might be my second favorite Zelda game.
The beginning of the game really hooked me in. Starting off in a small, quaint village, with lovely townsfolk felt very homely. You reach the point where you spend just enough time with them to begin to understand them and feel for them. And very, very suddenly, you are pulled into the depths of hell — both figuratively and literally. Having the village attacked by these strange looking beasts really hit home, and suddenly being whisked away, beaten, chained up, locked into prison and turned into a wolf with a evil imp lady forcing me to be her slave is just a very dark turn that I enjoyed a lot.
... Not in the masochistic way, I mean for the narrative.
It's a very jarring feeling to see a character like this end up in a horrible situation, especially for a Nintendo game. And I think because of that, it ended up making me feel for Link in a way that I haven't felt before. Granted, I was always aware in the back of my mind that everything would eventually work out for the best for Link, but it was still effective as a narrative hook.
Midna as a character surprised me. I now completely understand the love for her that I've seen on the internet. She's a sassy little gremlin, and ends up changing as the game goes on. She has a very sweet arc of realizing she was wrong for abusing you like she did for her own selfish interests, and begins to show facets of her true self. She's much more of a character than Zelda was in this game, strangely enough. Though, they did still manage to make me tear up with Zelda's words and actions. Every character, despite them being very minor, I ended up liking in some capacity. Not all of them were memorable, but the game definitely had a charm to it.
Having played BOTW first, it was remarkable to me just how much that game was closely related to this one. A lot of the iconography resembled BOTW, to the point where they felt distinctly within the same vein, whether that be intentional or not. I had read and heard two things while I was looking up more things about Zelda. The first was that, the original concept for the series had to do with a cybernetic realm mixed with the medieval fantasy, which was why Link was named Link, after a hyperlink. The other was that, the Legend of Zelda is kind of meant to be a retelling of a story, but with pieces missing and not clear, as if it were a real legend. Those two ideas were in my head the entire time while playing this game, and I'm not sure if it was intentional, but a lot of this game feels like it's in part, a holographic simulation. A lot of the Divine Spirits all project themselves, presenting themselves as concepts we understand, all of whom have a similar ancient technological glow like what's found with BOTW's shrines glowing. They're always in the background and become activated when these beings communicate, as if they're projections from the technology that we don't see the light from due to the legend misconstruing the truth of these beings. There's ancient tech that the Twili have that ends up changing perimeters of the simulation, like with Zant and his final battle. A lot of little things like that ended up making me think that the game is a misconstrued medieval world with "gods" controlling the fate of the world, whether it be the makers of the simulation, or the manifestation of alien beings contacting and controlling humans. It was fun thinking about all of this, and especially seeing how this game has elements that look like they're directly linked to Tears of The Kingdom. (The game even has tears as a collectible, and I wonder if the new game will elaborate on what they are really.)
I read interviews discussing how the framework to this game was meant to be another attempt at what OoT was trying to accomplish, I think in terms of dungeon design and world design, they accomplished that. A lot of the dungeons in this game were very good and things you could solve on your own through your own intuition. A big problem I had with OoT's dungeons is that they built a lot of puzzles on looking around a room to find a switch. Alongside that, they'd have you enter multiple situations where you could find one key, use it on an optional door you didn't know was optional, and be forced to comb the dungeon to look for another key to progress forward. These dungeons tend to build upon mechanics and ideas in a way that meshed well with my brain. Most of the bosses are fun to take out as well, except maybe the Zora temple's boss. That one more has to do with being in water more than the mechanics, however. The Goron and Mansion temples were my favorites, having a really fun design/layout.
A lot of the gameplay is fairly iterative of OoT, with the exception of the Wolf Link sections. While the concept feels a bit under utilized after a certain point, (especially when the Twilight world and the world of light end up being fased out with Midna being able to join you in the world of light), but I still enjoyed switching to the form and attacking enemies with it. Wolf Link runs faster, has a very snappy feeling quick attack, and it's just very fun to control him. It's just, by the end, they have a bit of a hard time justifying the mechanic, along with some of the dungeon items, but I don't really mind that. When they are in use, they're fun to use.
The music to the game has been really nice. There's some great renditions of previous songs, but some new ones as well. Zelda music has always been great, and this game's music is no exception. Midna's sick theme is genuinely beautiful, it's a very sweet song for a very sweet moment. It's undercut a little by having to force a stealth section and a enemy encounters, but the emotions hit my heart strings when the song started to kick in. The more I think about it, the more I think Midna might be one of my favorite Zelda characters.
I think my only few gripes with the game are, it's fairly iterative of OoT, albeit intentional, the horse controls aren't very good on the Wii U version, and that it underutilizes it's main gimmick. Other than that though, I'm kind of in love with this game. There's some genuinely superb stuff in here. It's making me want to go back to the Wind Waker to see it it truly has usurped the second favorite spot.
I remembered playing this game at a friend's house many years ago on his Wii, and I've always had this memory of the game feeling and looking dark. It always intrigued me, but for whatever reason, I just never acted on playing it. For many years, I've always had it in the back of my mind that I would really want to try that game at some point. So after trying Link's Awakening and OoT, I decided to finally give it a chance.
The result is that, I think this might be my second favorite Zelda game.
The beginning of the game really hooked me in. Starting off in a small, quaint village, with lovely townsfolk felt very homely. You reach the point where you spend just enough time with them to begin to understand them and feel for them. And very, very suddenly, you are pulled into the depths of hell — both figuratively and literally. Having the village attacked by these strange looking beasts really hit home, and suddenly being whisked away, beaten, chained up, locked into prison and turned into a wolf with a evil imp lady forcing me to be her slave is just a very dark turn that I enjoyed a lot.
... Not in the masochistic way, I mean for the narrative.
It's a very jarring feeling to see a character like this end up in a horrible situation, especially for a Nintendo game. And I think because of that, it ended up making me feel for Link in a way that I haven't felt before. Granted, I was always aware in the back of my mind that everything would eventually work out for the best for Link, but it was still effective as a narrative hook.
Midna as a character surprised me. I now completely understand the love for her that I've seen on the internet. She's a sassy little gremlin, and ends up changing as the game goes on. She has a very sweet arc of realizing she was wrong for abusing you like she did for her own selfish interests, and begins to show facets of her true self. She's much more of a character than Zelda was in this game, strangely enough. Though, they did still manage to make me tear up with Zelda's words and actions. Every character, despite them being very minor, I ended up liking in some capacity. Not all of them were memorable, but the game definitely had a charm to it.
Having played BOTW first, it was remarkable to me just how much that game was closely related to this one. A lot of the iconography resembled BOTW, to the point where they felt distinctly within the same vein, whether that be intentional or not. I had read and heard two things while I was looking up more things about Zelda. The first was that, the original concept for the series had to do with a cybernetic realm mixed with the medieval fantasy, which was why Link was named Link, after a hyperlink. The other was that, the Legend of Zelda is kind of meant to be a retelling of a story, but with pieces missing and not clear, as if it were a real legend. Those two ideas were in my head the entire time while playing this game, and I'm not sure if it was intentional, but a lot of this game feels like it's in part, a holographic simulation. A lot of the Divine Spirits all project themselves, presenting themselves as concepts we understand, all of whom have a similar ancient technological glow like what's found with BOTW's shrines glowing. They're always in the background and become activated when these beings communicate, as if they're projections from the technology that we don't see the light from due to the legend misconstruing the truth of these beings. There's ancient tech that the Twili have that ends up changing perimeters of the simulation, like with Zant and his final battle. A lot of little things like that ended up making me think that the game is a misconstrued medieval world with "gods" controlling the fate of the world, whether it be the makers of the simulation, or the manifestation of alien beings contacting and controlling humans. It was fun thinking about all of this, and especially seeing how this game has elements that look like they're directly linked to Tears of The Kingdom. (The game even has tears as a collectible, and I wonder if the new game will elaborate on what they are really.)
I read interviews discussing how the framework to this game was meant to be another attempt at what OoT was trying to accomplish, I think in terms of dungeon design and world design, they accomplished that. A lot of the dungeons in this game were very good and things you could solve on your own through your own intuition. A big problem I had with OoT's dungeons is that they built a lot of puzzles on looking around a room to find a switch. Alongside that, they'd have you enter multiple situations where you could find one key, use it on an optional door you didn't know was optional, and be forced to comb the dungeon to look for another key to progress forward. These dungeons tend to build upon mechanics and ideas in a way that meshed well with my brain. Most of the bosses are fun to take out as well, except maybe the Zora temple's boss. That one more has to do with being in water more than the mechanics, however. The Goron and Mansion temples were my favorites, having a really fun design/layout.
A lot of the gameplay is fairly iterative of OoT, with the exception of the Wolf Link sections. While the concept feels a bit under utilized after a certain point, (especially when the Twilight world and the world of light end up being fased out with Midna being able to join you in the world of light), but I still enjoyed switching to the form and attacking enemies with it. Wolf Link runs faster, has a very snappy feeling quick attack, and it's just very fun to control him. It's just, by the end, they have a bit of a hard time justifying the mechanic, along with some of the dungeon items, but I don't really mind that. When they are in use, they're fun to use.
The music to the game has been really nice. There's some great renditions of previous songs, but some new ones as well. Zelda music has always been great, and this game's music is no exception. Midna's sick theme is genuinely beautiful, it's a very sweet song for a very sweet moment. It's undercut a little by having to force a stealth section and a enemy encounters, but the emotions hit my heart strings when the song started to kick in. The more I think about it, the more I think Midna might be one of my favorite Zelda characters.
I think my only few gripes with the game are, it's fairly iterative of OoT, albeit intentional, the horse controls aren't very good on the Wii U version, and that it underutilizes it's main gimmick. Other than that though, I'm kind of in love with this game. There's some genuinely superb stuff in here. It's making me want to go back to the Wind Waker to see it it truly has usurped the second favorite spot.
2023
Lethal Company is a story generator. Many multiplayer horror games have felt like this in the past, but none have seemingly captured my heart the way this game has.
Perhaps it's the retrograde sci-fi look and feel, or maybe it's the simple loop of exploring isolated planets with randomly generated building interiors, events, and monsters for scrap within a time limit. The systems here of finding enough junk to sell within 3 days, with a ship that runs on autopilot to force you to return to orbit, along with the monetary penalty of the death of your crew weighing heavily on the value of your items all work in unison to put you into the mindset of a person surviving off selling scraps.
Stories generate endlessly from these simple mechanics working together. You work together with your friends/co-workers, an emotional throughline already established. You stay in the moment with proximity chat, unsure whether or not your co-worker on the other line of a walkie talkie is going to suddenly stop talking. You never quite feel safe. A seemingly easy mission can quickly take a dramatic turm into a nightmarish bloodbath where you're limping your way back to the ship, the last remaining soul amongst the crew, only for some hellish abomination to sideline you.
One of my favorite stories to come from this game was a journey into a building. We had just cleared a gap from one railing to another. We turn a corner and within the matter of a second, a gigantic spider enters the majority of my vision, and we all turn back towards the gap to make our way over. Two of us, myself included, made the way back, but unfortunately, one of us had died, the only person who held a weapon to protect us. The gigantic spider blocked the gap, trying it's hardest to attack us from the edge. As we bickered amongst ourselves as to the best way to obtain both our crew mate's body and our last line of defense, another smaller creature appeared next to the spider on the other side of the gap. He grabbed our stop sign and scampered off back into the hallway, our efforts wasted and our time down the drain. It was such a bizzare moment that had multiple systems working ontop of one another, and they created something so unexpected, hilarious, and off putting that you'd think it would have been in a movie.
The more this game adds in terms of content, the more stories and scenarios can be created, and I cannot wait for the game to leave early access because of this very reason. Lethal Company is very simple in it's execution, but brings about a level of surprise and intrigue that has kept me thinking about this game long after my play sessions with it.
Perhaps it's the retrograde sci-fi look and feel, or maybe it's the simple loop of exploring isolated planets with randomly generated building interiors, events, and monsters for scrap within a time limit. The systems here of finding enough junk to sell within 3 days, with a ship that runs on autopilot to force you to return to orbit, along with the monetary penalty of the death of your crew weighing heavily on the value of your items all work in unison to put you into the mindset of a person surviving off selling scraps.
Stories generate endlessly from these simple mechanics working together. You work together with your friends/co-workers, an emotional throughline already established. You stay in the moment with proximity chat, unsure whether or not your co-worker on the other line of a walkie talkie is going to suddenly stop talking. You never quite feel safe. A seemingly easy mission can quickly take a dramatic turm into a nightmarish bloodbath where you're limping your way back to the ship, the last remaining soul amongst the crew, only for some hellish abomination to sideline you.
One of my favorite stories to come from this game was a journey into a building. We had just cleared a gap from one railing to another. We turn a corner and within the matter of a second, a gigantic spider enters the majority of my vision, and we all turn back towards the gap to make our way over. Two of us, myself included, made the way back, but unfortunately, one of us had died, the only person who held a weapon to protect us. The gigantic spider blocked the gap, trying it's hardest to attack us from the edge. As we bickered amongst ourselves as to the best way to obtain both our crew mate's body and our last line of defense, another smaller creature appeared next to the spider on the other side of the gap. He grabbed our stop sign and scampered off back into the hallway, our efforts wasted and our time down the drain. It was such a bizzare moment that had multiple systems working ontop of one another, and they created something so unexpected, hilarious, and off putting that you'd think it would have been in a movie.
The more this game adds in terms of content, the more stories and scenarios can be created, and I cannot wait for the game to leave early access because of this very reason. Lethal Company is very simple in it's execution, but brings about a level of surprise and intrigue that has kept me thinking about this game long after my play sessions with it.
"I believe our role as game creators is to give dreams to children all over the world." - Yuji Naka
------------------------------------------------------------------------
NiGHTS: Into Dreams is a marvel of a game. Originally developed with the intent of being a 2D game with pixel art graphics with a strong emphasis on Artificial Life sim (A-Life) gameplay, development shifted drastically towards the game we know today. The game was, for all intents and purposes, an experiment: can Sonic Team make a 3D game on the Sega Saturn? What are the limitations, if they could? How can they show the player 3D depth on a 2D screen? Can they create polygonal characters that look as appealing as 2D pixel characters?
The answer was a resounding yes. NiGHTS became a unique title that showcased the potential of the Sega Saturn, demolishing the sales and becoming the top selling game on the system. Sonic Team managed to create a new IP, play around with new ideas, and recharge their creative batteries from creating three or four Sonic game for the past four to five years.
But the reality of NiGHTS's release was that the game was not enough of a draw for the Saturn. The American consumer base desired more of the blue blur, and during consumer questioning with the Japanese side, kids infamously could only mutter "Sonic who?" when asked who Sonic was. Sonic was Sega's face, and Sega's face went missing.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Between the cracks of the conscious and unconscious, there is a rift that trickles down to Nightopia. Windmills stand atop of pillars that hover aimlessly in the air, decorating the milky blue and purple skies like ornaments of a Christmas tree. Hills and valleys roll in a green mellow stream, spreading across every corner within the canvas of this dream. Sleep is a one way ticket to the carnival of dreams, performing all of humanity's unconscious thoughts and ideals in one place. NiGHTS is your guide, a being that's a culmination of every culture and gender, staving off the nightmares that infest the dreams of the collective unconscious, displaying as a hero amongst the self. Waking is your ticket back to reality, where you're left with your memories of that dream world, giving you the strength to reach out for your dreams in reality.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Much like Sonic, NiGHTS is the king of fostering replayability. NiGHTS is essentially a prototype for the ranking system that would later be found in the Sonic Adventure series. Rank is based not how fast you proceed through a level, but more determined with the amount of points you received and orbs you collect throughout the allotted route. Each world is broken up by 4 routes, followed by a climatic boss fight to cap off your overall ranking. Mastering the game requires mastering a level's layout, learning the best way to acquire points and orbs, and optimizing your run to perfection. Your verbs are to loop, charge and fly to reach your goal, the motions in doing so feeling eloquent and refined like a figure skater's flow. This flow translates to gameplay and vice versa from one another.
The gameplay loop is addicting on an immediate level, and for me, has been more gratifying than playing and perfecting either SA1 or 2. The reason is simple: in Sonic, the qualifications to gain the best rank aren't actually clear with what the game is asking of you. Here in NiGHTS, it's 100% clear to me how I reach a better rank. The more points I wrack up, the better my rank.
For all of NiGHTS, there's a sense of clarity to the game design with how simplistic and creative it is. I'm not sure Sonic Team has ever quite reached such a level of clarity with their other projects.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The world was passing me by so quickly. My surroundings were hard to really notice at a first glance, so I began to grow dissatisfied being unable to soak anything in. So, I did what I used to do when I was younger. I let myself get lost in the world.
The ground swerved and bent like an ocean's wave. These waves would envelop me from above and below me, closing me within this world like an open cavern. Walking felt weird, like at any given moment I'd start feeling heavy resistance from the sheer steepness of the terrain, but never did that heavy foot come. I wandered around, finding tiny creatures that would playfully smile, or laugh, or spin with glee.
The world felt still, in a way. Like this was the only moment that mattered. Thinking back on this, I felt like I once did when I was a kid. The world in front of me felt strange, new and a little scary. I didn't know what to expect from the game, and that within itself was such a refreshing experience.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Despite the fact that NiGHTS started as an attempt to create an A-Life game, aspects are still found within the free range mode within NiGHTS. Before every level starts, you have the option to head directly towards NiGHTS, or to explore the entire level in full. Inhabiting these dreamscapes are tiny little creatures known as Pians, whom are born from eggs that you can find and hatch. These tiny little fairy men come in many shapes and sizes, and even come equipped with a full on breeding system. This system isn't as in-depth as the Chao system found within Sonic Adventure 1 and 2, but this mechanic adds a strange and needed element to the gameplay loop: a moment to relax.
Taking a break from the fast paced gameplay and simply exploring the world here creates a sense of exploration and discovery. There's details to this world that you're merely flying past in the main portion of the game, and being able to explore the same level from a completely different perspective is strangely freeing. Of course, the game doesn't want you to just running around collecting orbs for free, so they add in a slight pressure from an egg strapped with an alarm clock that chases you, along with a lower rank for the amount of time you've spent, so the game ends up being balanced with this approach. These open ended sections truly breathe life into the world of Nightopia.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Ethereal synths move and sway from ear to ear, samples of children saying hello and every day noises floating in-between them. The sound of a sax screeching in mimicry of an a monster screeching as a bombastic drum 'n' bass and a groovin' bass line kick into full gear. As credits roll, you're treated to the sweetest songs ever conceived.
"In the night.
Dream delight.
I want to see you standing there.
In the night.
Dream delight.
I found someone who really cared."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Sega Saturn was considered a commercial failure. Sonic X-Treme was canceled, and there was no recovery from the lack of momentum. The Dreamcast was Sega's last shot to regain their market share and their consumer base. But too many mistakes were made. Sega closed down their console divisions for good.
Their dream was no more.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
As an adult, you don't really have the opportunity to meander. We hold off on leaving the living because there's too much to be done. Responsibilities need to be taken care of, work obligations need to be met. Life can come at you fast, and you can never be sure if the move you're making is the right move. What do I want to do? Who do I want to be? When will I wake up from my fear of rejection, my fear of agency? The idea can often paralyze me. There's more I could be doing, more I could be aspiring towards.
NiGHTS: Into Dreams reminds me that there isn't a need to overcomplicated. Sometimes all you need is to focus on something simple. Take a deep breath and wander. Take a break but get back to it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
The quote at the beginning was given in an interview with Yuji Naka and developers of NiGHTS: Into Dream. You might cringe at the cheese spewing out of every orifice of the lettering as you read the text, but the words hold weight for me. Despite everything Yuji Naka has done in his career, despite how notoriously difficult he was to work with said by those around him, despite the potential cynical business centric reasoning for this quote, NiGHTS: Into Dreams still encapsulates the feeling of magic into me. The game filled me with a wonder I don't think many games ever have. Just for a moment, I felt like I was a kid again, exploring a new, unknown game for the first time, wondering what this strange new world had in store for me. There was nothing but smiles of joy on my face.
This is me by the way, if you even care.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
NiGHTS: Into Dreams is a marvel of a game. Originally developed with the intent of being a 2D game with pixel art graphics with a strong emphasis on Artificial Life sim (A-Life) gameplay, development shifted drastically towards the game we know today. The game was, for all intents and purposes, an experiment: can Sonic Team make a 3D game on the Sega Saturn? What are the limitations, if they could? How can they show the player 3D depth on a 2D screen? Can they create polygonal characters that look as appealing as 2D pixel characters?
The answer was a resounding yes. NiGHTS became a unique title that showcased the potential of the Sega Saturn, demolishing the sales and becoming the top selling game on the system. Sonic Team managed to create a new IP, play around with new ideas, and recharge their creative batteries from creating three or four Sonic game for the past four to five years.
But the reality of NiGHTS's release was that the game was not enough of a draw for the Saturn. The American consumer base desired more of the blue blur, and during consumer questioning with the Japanese side, kids infamously could only mutter "Sonic who?" when asked who Sonic was. Sonic was Sega's face, and Sega's face went missing.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Between the cracks of the conscious and unconscious, there is a rift that trickles down to Nightopia. Windmills stand atop of pillars that hover aimlessly in the air, decorating the milky blue and purple skies like ornaments of a Christmas tree. Hills and valleys roll in a green mellow stream, spreading across every corner within the canvas of this dream. Sleep is a one way ticket to the carnival of dreams, performing all of humanity's unconscious thoughts and ideals in one place. NiGHTS is your guide, a being that's a culmination of every culture and gender, staving off the nightmares that infest the dreams of the collective unconscious, displaying as a hero amongst the self. Waking is your ticket back to reality, where you're left with your memories of that dream world, giving you the strength to reach out for your dreams in reality.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Much like Sonic, NiGHTS is the king of fostering replayability. NiGHTS is essentially a prototype for the ranking system that would later be found in the Sonic Adventure series. Rank is based not how fast you proceed through a level, but more determined with the amount of points you received and orbs you collect throughout the allotted route. Each world is broken up by 4 routes, followed by a climatic boss fight to cap off your overall ranking. Mastering the game requires mastering a level's layout, learning the best way to acquire points and orbs, and optimizing your run to perfection. Your verbs are to loop, charge and fly to reach your goal, the motions in doing so feeling eloquent and refined like a figure skater's flow. This flow translates to gameplay and vice versa from one another.
The gameplay loop is addicting on an immediate level, and for me, has been more gratifying than playing and perfecting either SA1 or 2. The reason is simple: in Sonic, the qualifications to gain the best rank aren't actually clear with what the game is asking of you. Here in NiGHTS, it's 100% clear to me how I reach a better rank. The more points I wrack up, the better my rank.
For all of NiGHTS, there's a sense of clarity to the game design with how simplistic and creative it is. I'm not sure Sonic Team has ever quite reached such a level of clarity with their other projects.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The world was passing me by so quickly. My surroundings were hard to really notice at a first glance, so I began to grow dissatisfied being unable to soak anything in. So, I did what I used to do when I was younger. I let myself get lost in the world.
The ground swerved and bent like an ocean's wave. These waves would envelop me from above and below me, closing me within this world like an open cavern. Walking felt weird, like at any given moment I'd start feeling heavy resistance from the sheer steepness of the terrain, but never did that heavy foot come. I wandered around, finding tiny creatures that would playfully smile, or laugh, or spin with glee.
The world felt still, in a way. Like this was the only moment that mattered. Thinking back on this, I felt like I once did when I was a kid. The world in front of me felt strange, new and a little scary. I didn't know what to expect from the game, and that within itself was such a refreshing experience.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Despite the fact that NiGHTS started as an attempt to create an A-Life game, aspects are still found within the free range mode within NiGHTS. Before every level starts, you have the option to head directly towards NiGHTS, or to explore the entire level in full. Inhabiting these dreamscapes are tiny little creatures known as Pians, whom are born from eggs that you can find and hatch. These tiny little fairy men come in many shapes and sizes, and even come equipped with a full on breeding system. This system isn't as in-depth as the Chao system found within Sonic Adventure 1 and 2, but this mechanic adds a strange and needed element to the gameplay loop: a moment to relax.
Taking a break from the fast paced gameplay and simply exploring the world here creates a sense of exploration and discovery. There's details to this world that you're merely flying past in the main portion of the game, and being able to explore the same level from a completely different perspective is strangely freeing. Of course, the game doesn't want you to just running around collecting orbs for free, so they add in a slight pressure from an egg strapped with an alarm clock that chases you, along with a lower rank for the amount of time you've spent, so the game ends up being balanced with this approach. These open ended sections truly breathe life into the world of Nightopia.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Ethereal synths move and sway from ear to ear, samples of children saying hello and every day noises floating in-between them. The sound of a sax screeching in mimicry of an a monster screeching as a bombastic drum 'n' bass and a groovin' bass line kick into full gear. As credits roll, you're treated to the sweetest songs ever conceived.
"In the night.
Dream delight.
I want to see you standing there.
In the night.
Dream delight.
I found someone who really cared."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Sega Saturn was considered a commercial failure. Sonic X-Treme was canceled, and there was no recovery from the lack of momentum. The Dreamcast was Sega's last shot to regain their market share and their consumer base. But too many mistakes were made. Sega closed down their console divisions for good.
Their dream was no more.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
As an adult, you don't really have the opportunity to meander. We hold off on leaving the living because there's too much to be done. Responsibilities need to be taken care of, work obligations need to be met. Life can come at you fast, and you can never be sure if the move you're making is the right move. What do I want to do? Who do I want to be? When will I wake up from my fear of rejection, my fear of agency? The idea can often paralyze me. There's more I could be doing, more I could be aspiring towards.
NiGHTS: Into Dreams reminds me that there isn't a need to overcomplicated. Sometimes all you need is to focus on something simple. Take a deep breath and wander. Take a break but get back to it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
The quote at the beginning was given in an interview with Yuji Naka and developers of NiGHTS: Into Dream. You might cringe at the cheese spewing out of every orifice of the lettering as you read the text, but the words hold weight for me. Despite everything Yuji Naka has done in his career, despite how notoriously difficult he was to work with said by those around him, despite the potential cynical business centric reasoning for this quote, NiGHTS: Into Dreams still encapsulates the feeling of magic into me. The game filled me with a wonder I don't think many games ever have. Just for a moment, I felt like I was a kid again, exploring a new, unknown game for the first time, wondering what this strange new world had in store for me. There was nothing but smiles of joy on my face.
This is me by the way, if you even care.
Mario Land 2 is a neat little game! It's a peculiar stepping stone for both Mario and the eventual Wario Land series. It breaks from the mold of most Mario games with it's level theming, it's bosses, and it's non-linear approach, making it a refreshing, bite-sized Mario experience!
The downside is, the game often feels limited. Given that it's a Game Boy game, it's bound to feel like that. With only a few Power-Ups, with only one that's wholely original, Mario's range of actions are scarce. They make up for this scarcity by incorporating interesting level gimmicks to try and stand out, which are enjoyable in their own right. There's never enough to really sink your teeth into though, which is a shame, because I feel like a lot of these ideas could be expanded upon. It's important to keep in mind, however, that it IS a Game Boy game, and for what it's accomplished in context of the time and the hardware, it's really a stand out title.
The downside is, the game often feels limited. Given that it's a Game Boy game, it's bound to feel like that. With only a few Power-Ups, with only one that's wholely original, Mario's range of actions are scarce. They make up for this scarcity by incorporating interesting level gimmicks to try and stand out, which are enjoyable in their own right. There's never enough to really sink your teeth into though, which is a shame, because I feel like a lot of these ideas could be expanded upon. It's important to keep in mind, however, that it IS a Game Boy game, and for what it's accomplished in context of the time and the hardware, it's really a stand out title.
1998
"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.
Really clever little game! It's definitely meant to be replayed in short bursts and serves functionally the same purpose as something like Tetris; bite-sized gameplay to pick-up and play. And in that respect, it nails it!
First impression through the story mode has just been, this is fun! I really love how they've given Wario and his weird friends a ton of character and charm here. Some of these mini-games feel a bit tame in comparison to what I've seen from other games within the series, but I hear the other games only increase in quality!
First impression through the story mode has just been, this is fun! I really love how they've given Wario and his weird friends a ton of character and charm here. Some of these mini-games feel a bit tame in comparison to what I've seen from other games within the series, but I hear the other games only increase in quality!
I don't have the right words to describe my feelings towards LISA: The Painful. It's impacted me on such a deep level that I don't know how to formulate the right sentences in the right order to explain it. It's a deeply personal game to me, a game that feels like only I and a niche of others could love. It's as if on some level, it understands me. And yet, it challenges my own beliefs. My own morality. It's one of those pieces of media that leaves me reflecting with questions of, "what would I have done? What could have happened to prevent all this?". It's one of the rare few video games that's left me reflecting like this — a sign of a great work.
And this is coming from a game with a fucking talking fish lawyer. This game is stupid, it is SO STUPID—
I really don't think I could do it justice here in this format, so I'll keep this brief. LISA: The Painful is a gift. It's simultaneously one of the most soul crushing and gut-bustingly hilarious games I've ever played. It has some of the craziest, coolest, absolutely bonkers music in a video game. It's a nightmare, it's a trip, it's an must-have experience. Not everyone will love it. Some may find it annoying. But with all my heart, I love it. You might love it too. Go play it and find out for yourself.
And this is coming from a game with a fucking talking fish lawyer. This game is stupid, it is SO STUPID—
I really don't think I could do it justice here in this format, so I'll keep this brief. LISA: The Painful is a gift. It's simultaneously one of the most soul crushing and gut-bustingly hilarious games I've ever played. It has some of the craziest, coolest, absolutely bonkers music in a video game. It's a nightmare, it's a trip, it's an must-have experience. Not everyone will love it. Some may find it annoying. But with all my heart, I love it. You might love it too. Go play it and find out for yourself.
2001
I've put off playing Pikmin for 22 years.
Timers give me anxiety. Being timed with anything just about makes my heart rate sky rocket. I've been avoiding games like Pikmin for a long time because of this. Majora's Mask, Dead Rising, I've told my friends countless times I'd get around to playing these games, only to inevitably end up feeling deterred from a sudden spike of anxiety.
It's really just all in my head. I fear the anguish caused by failing miserably and having to restart. I psych myself out and over think about how much I need to manage my time efficiently. In my head, I have to do things perfectly on my first time. Part of me knows the game is much easier to manage than I'm making it out to be. Another part of me doesn't seem to get the picture. Pikmin is likely the first game that I've ever played with a timer, and it's one of the reasons why playing these types of games affects me so much. Childhood trauma.
So, I put off Pikmin for 22 years. My GameCube copy from when I was 5 just sitting there, untouched. A reminder of past scars.
On a whim, my friend suggested I should stream it. He's been asking me to stream it for him for years now. I had tried once before in the past, but I had stopped early and feared going back. So I figured, eh, why not? I should stay true to my word.
And a funny thing happened. I made myself stop caring about the failures I'd make, or all the Pikmin I'd lose. Instead, I just went marched forward. If I messed up, I'd mess up. As I played, I became detached from my Pikmin and saw them less as cute little creatures, and more just the video game polygons they actually are. I dehumanized myself and faced the bloodshed.
As a result, hundreds upon hundreds of Pikmin died in tragic (and needlessly stupid) deaths, but here I was, finally viewing the end credits. A man turned monster, sitting upon his throne of dead (pik)men behind him. The weight of my soul is too much to bear.
... In all seriousness, it was just a really fun time. I throughly enjoyed my time with Pikmin 1.
The reality of playing Pikmin is much different from the fantasy in my head. The timer is an ever present source of pressure, yeah, but the amount of time you're given is plentiful. You're able to restart from your last save too, which saves a lot of time compared to a hard reset which took the edge off. As a kid, I had no idea what to do, where to go, and stressed out about finding the ship pieces in time. But I was a 5 year old. I was bound to be bad at a game like this.
Pikmin is a real time strategy game, and what's unique about it is that it's a character centric one. Usually in these types of games, you're controlling massive amounts of characters all at once as a sort of nebulous god. With Pikmin, you're in control of Olimar, and your army of Pikmin follow you automatically.
Pikmin break down into groups of 3: red, yellow, blue. Red are strong and fire resistant, yellow can jump high, throw bombs and carry pieces quicker, and blue can go in water. Blues end up getting the short end of the stick, but every type have their benefits in using. Much of the gameplay revolves around organizing these little dumb bastards and making the carry, kill, swarm, whatever. You also have to be their nanny and make sure they don't get lost from the group if they decide to, I don't know, go play with grass or rocks, or get stuck on a wall, or just decide that they don't really want to follow you for no reason.
The AI for these things can be a bit frustrating, (especially when they get lost the second you're about to take off for the night) but in a way, it's like they have a mind of their own. It's a good balance of just competent enough to not be completely aggravating, but aggravating enough to feel like they don't listen and are just absent minded. I could probably go without the part where Pikmin get caught on walls and having to search around the Walmart looking for my lost son. At least I have a chip in him to track where he is on a map.
Alongside being a real time strategy, Pikmin is also a bit of a puzzle game. Each ship piece requires you to put together how you're going to bring each back, using each element of the 3 types of Pikmin at your disposal. This could mean having reds carry the pieces through fire, having yellows throw bombs to take down walls or to reach high enough places to obtain a piece, blues going through water, or all of them fighting for their lives against a monster dumb enough to eat a ship part.
This game can be brutal. Enemies love eating Pikmin, and they get greedy if you're not careful. The lifecycle to this planet have Pikmin on the lower end of the foodchain, so almost everything eat them. The ones that don't have a habit of eating them end up being bullies as well,whether that be picking them up and tossing them in the ground, or just pumbling them into the ground. Some creatures even like stealing your stuff, like the breadbugs. This ecosystem is strange, and you always feel like an underdog.
Yet, despite the oppressive difficulty and ever dreaded clock, the atmosphere is serene and peaceful. The sun blooms during the day, and these grassy sandboxes paint the world to be gentle and calm outside of it's cut throat environment. Water pools and moves with as much realism as the 6th generation lunchbox can handle. Damp caves bring about a gloomy atmosphere, yet teems with light and life. Rusted cans and objects stick out of the ground, implying we're merely the size of an ant on a much larger planet. That planet might very well be our planet, morphed and mutated into something without humanity. And yet, the music remains peaceful and hopeful. There's not a lot of areas to this game, but they make the most out of them.
The ending is a short puzzle using all the Pikmin's abilities, only to then reach a giant boss who absolutely demolishes your troops. It's one of the most brutal encounters in the game, right next to the Wollywogs. Those damned jerk offs love slapping down on your Pikmin and crushing them. They don't even eat them! They just love crushing things to death! And at the end, Olimar finally gets to return home, thanking the Pikmin for their service and leaving them behind. They now can fend for themselves with their new found confidence, and with time, I bet they could become on top of the food chain.
This game has been quite a journey. Although it's short, it's definitely taught me a lot. Don't think you'll be perfect the first time you do something. Allow yourself to make mistakes. Don't overthink it and just have fun. Dehumanize yourself and face the bloodshed.
Timers give me anxiety. Being timed with anything just about makes my heart rate sky rocket. I've been avoiding games like Pikmin for a long time because of this. Majora's Mask, Dead Rising, I've told my friends countless times I'd get around to playing these games, only to inevitably end up feeling deterred from a sudden spike of anxiety.
It's really just all in my head. I fear the anguish caused by failing miserably and having to restart. I psych myself out and over think about how much I need to manage my time efficiently. In my head, I have to do things perfectly on my first time. Part of me knows the game is much easier to manage than I'm making it out to be. Another part of me doesn't seem to get the picture. Pikmin is likely the first game that I've ever played with a timer, and it's one of the reasons why playing these types of games affects me so much. Childhood trauma.
So, I put off Pikmin for 22 years. My GameCube copy from when I was 5 just sitting there, untouched. A reminder of past scars.
On a whim, my friend suggested I should stream it. He's been asking me to stream it for him for years now. I had tried once before in the past, but I had stopped early and feared going back. So I figured, eh, why not? I should stay true to my word.
And a funny thing happened. I made myself stop caring about the failures I'd make, or all the Pikmin I'd lose. Instead, I just went marched forward. If I messed up, I'd mess up. As I played, I became detached from my Pikmin and saw them less as cute little creatures, and more just the video game polygons they actually are. I dehumanized myself and faced the bloodshed.
As a result, hundreds upon hundreds of Pikmin died in tragic (and needlessly stupid) deaths, but here I was, finally viewing the end credits. A man turned monster, sitting upon his throne of dead (pik)men behind him. The weight of my soul is too much to bear.
... In all seriousness, it was just a really fun time. I throughly enjoyed my time with Pikmin 1.
The reality of playing Pikmin is much different from the fantasy in my head. The timer is an ever present source of pressure, yeah, but the amount of time you're given is plentiful. You're able to restart from your last save too, which saves a lot of time compared to a hard reset which took the edge off. As a kid, I had no idea what to do, where to go, and stressed out about finding the ship pieces in time. But I was a 5 year old. I was bound to be bad at a game like this.
Pikmin is a real time strategy game, and what's unique about it is that it's a character centric one. Usually in these types of games, you're controlling massive amounts of characters all at once as a sort of nebulous god. With Pikmin, you're in control of Olimar, and your army of Pikmin follow you automatically.
Pikmin break down into groups of 3: red, yellow, blue. Red are strong and fire resistant, yellow can jump high, throw bombs and carry pieces quicker, and blue can go in water. Blues end up getting the short end of the stick, but every type have their benefits in using. Much of the gameplay revolves around organizing these little dumb bastards and making the carry, kill, swarm, whatever. You also have to be their nanny and make sure they don't get lost from the group if they decide to, I don't know, go play with grass or rocks, or get stuck on a wall, or just decide that they don't really want to follow you for no reason.
The AI for these things can be a bit frustrating, (especially when they get lost the second you're about to take off for the night) but in a way, it's like they have a mind of their own. It's a good balance of just competent enough to not be completely aggravating, but aggravating enough to feel like they don't listen and are just absent minded. I could probably go without the part where Pikmin get caught on walls and having to search around the Walmart looking for my lost son. At least I have a chip in him to track where he is on a map.
Alongside being a real time strategy, Pikmin is also a bit of a puzzle game. Each ship piece requires you to put together how you're going to bring each back, using each element of the 3 types of Pikmin at your disposal. This could mean having reds carry the pieces through fire, having yellows throw bombs to take down walls or to reach high enough places to obtain a piece, blues going through water, or all of them fighting for their lives against a monster dumb enough to eat a ship part.
This game can be brutal. Enemies love eating Pikmin, and they get greedy if you're not careful. The lifecycle to this planet have Pikmin on the lower end of the foodchain, so almost everything eat them. The ones that don't have a habit of eating them end up being bullies as well,whether that be picking them up and tossing them in the ground, or just pumbling them into the ground. Some creatures even like stealing your stuff, like the breadbugs. This ecosystem is strange, and you always feel like an underdog.
Yet, despite the oppressive difficulty and ever dreaded clock, the atmosphere is serene and peaceful. The sun blooms during the day, and these grassy sandboxes paint the world to be gentle and calm outside of it's cut throat environment. Water pools and moves with as much realism as the 6th generation lunchbox can handle. Damp caves bring about a gloomy atmosphere, yet teems with light and life. Rusted cans and objects stick out of the ground, implying we're merely the size of an ant on a much larger planet. That planet might very well be our planet, morphed and mutated into something without humanity. And yet, the music remains peaceful and hopeful. There's not a lot of areas to this game, but they make the most out of them.
The ending is a short puzzle using all the Pikmin's abilities, only to then reach a giant boss who absolutely demolishes your troops. It's one of the most brutal encounters in the game, right next to the Wollywogs. Those damned jerk offs love slapping down on your Pikmin and crushing them. They don't even eat them! They just love crushing things to death! And at the end, Olimar finally gets to return home, thanking the Pikmin for their service and leaving them behind. They now can fend for themselves with their new found confidence, and with time, I bet they could become on top of the food chain.
This game has been quite a journey. Although it's short, it's definitely taught me a lot. Don't think you'll be perfect the first time you do something. Allow yourself to make mistakes. Don't overthink it and just have fun. Dehumanize yourself and face the bloodshed.