Played using the PC re-release. Much, much better than the N64 original, thanks to a smooth 60fps frame rate and other minor conveniences.

Y'know, when I first began playing Turok, I was really pleasantly surprised. Back in this era of gaming, my expectations for FPS releases are really low. Games like Wolfenstein and Doom don't appeal to me all the way, because of their over-reliance on mazes and keycard hunting shenanigans. It's no fun to have your demon-killing spree be interrupted by 20 minutes of "fuck, where do I go next?" That's why I generally prefer more linear campaigns, the likes of Half-Life and such.

Turok's first couple stages hit a different stride than the likes of Doom or Half-Life though. It's a type of level design that reminded me more of a race track, with platforming elements thrown in. The stages are a series of long (and i mean LONG) stretches of pathways, the length compensated by a sense of flow that allows you to zoom your way across them at a bit of a ridiculous rate. Once you figure out that diagonal movement makes you twice as fast, you become the fucking bishop piece of FPS games, there is simply no other method of movement you'll be wanting to use.

I really, really liked this part of Turok. It was far from the most complex FPS design I've played, but what was there really filled out that "comfort game" part of my brain. Hunting down collectibles, secrets, vibing to the percussion-heavy drum beats while mowing down dinosaurs, with weapons that honestly felt really good to use. It was mindless, but in a very polished and easy to get into kinda way. I'd be down to revisit those parts of the game again at some point.

Buut, there are other parts that I would genuinely love to have a skip button for, and they rear their ugly head in the 2nd half of the journey. The temple level. A nice change of scenery at first, until I realized that Turok was no longer doing the thing that was setting its level design apart from others. This is a maze. An obnoxiously big one. You do have a map! But it's not going to help here. I got lost, and that dragged the pacing of the stage so hard that I almost considered stopping there. The next stage right after though somewhat returned to the more standard level design from before, so that was thankfully a one-off.

Well, it was a one-off as far as "maze levels" go, but it's not the only bad stage in the game, there's an even worse one. I don't use these words lightly, the final level deserves nothing good in its life. The previous stages were already pretty long as is, but this final one seems to be doing everything in its humane power to pad the distance between you and the credits. Miles upon miles of copy-paste level design, it is an excruciating test of your patience, and a clear indication that the developers just gave up right there and then. They ran a pretty good marathon, and shit on the track just before the finish line. A genuinely terrible shame, for what was honestly a mostly pleasant FPS before then.

There's a couple other nitpicks I have, like the concept of putting extra lives into an FPS is pretty silly. I didn't really like that enemies respawn, and that ultimate weapon that you can unlock was a huge waste. You're only able to get it about 5 minutes before the game is over, at which point I guess you could... replay stages with it? But I'm not doing that. I've beaten the game. There's nothing else to do. Imagine only getting the BFG at the final boss, this is what it felt like.

To summarize, Turok could've been a potential 4/5 if it kept the quality up all the way through, but man, those 2 stages out of 8 are so repulsive that they risk ruining the entire thing. I know for a fact that my opinion was soured, and my fondness runs dry after the 1st half of the game concludes. But as much as I'm tempted to go with a score of 2.5, I really want to give Turok some slack, because the parts that WERE fun about it, really did hit the sort of dopamine I'm looking for in these sorts of games. I only wish the experience was consistent, and that the developers could've been more concerned about the quality of the journey, rather than a mind-numbing quantity.

There's a couple different starting points I could recommend for the Mega Man newcomer, and they tend to vary based on your ability to adapt to antiquation. If starting from the beginning is ruled out, then I'd recommend Mega Man 3. If you don't want even a sliver of antiquation, then you could try 6. If the NES series as a whole is not your forte, I'd recommend 7- (bursts into laughter)

No, but seriously. Up until now, the series has had its share of good mixed with mid, and a rough difficulty that alienated those who don't have the patience required for it (or aren't using save states, anyway). And in the case of games like Mega Man 7 & Mega Man X3, if playing those caused you to say "fuck this" to the rest of the franchise, I wouldn't be surprised. But I think that'd also be an unfortunate shame. Because you would've been THIS close to the short-lived "PS1 Capcom reneissance", which bestowed upon us such classics as Resident Evil, alongside Mega Man X4, Mega Man Legends, and, our main subject for today: Mega Man 8. The first entry in the whole series that I would feel absolutely safe recommending not just to seasoned run 'n gun players, but to anybody.

However, this leads me into a thought that - while I generally do my best to avoid on Backloggd - I just couldn't help but think "How in the world do people think this is a 3/5?" I mean, look, if a person gave it a shot and all they got out of it is "average", I'll just have to respect that, we're all knocking heads about something as trite as game opinions anyway. And I ain't expecting a perfect score either, y'know. Still, here I am scratching my chin, and thinking to myself "Isn't this... what people trying to get into Mega Man wanted?"

It makes me wonder just how much of that opinion stems from a case of franchise burnout, combined with the expectation that the series will eventually innovate and modernize itself. Only for the disappointment to hit, when Mega Man 8 could be jadedly summed up as "just another one." "A prettier Mega Man 7." Well, I'll have to face the facts too. I don't think Mega Man 8 is ground breaking in any way. But comparing it to 7 - and every other prior game for that matter - the difference in accessibility is night and day.

You're not gonna hit the same levels of bullshit here that 7 threw at you, for one. The difficulty is lax enough, that if you wanted to, you could do the final boss without the need for recovery items, because guess what! The attack patterns are actually fair this time, whoOAOAOoaAOaoA! The same goes for every boss, which telegraph their attacks a lot better, making learning them a lot more fun. Bass's boss fight is such a huge glow-up from the one in 7, and goes down as one of my favorite boss encounters amongst the classic Mega Man series.

I even think that something like the snowboarding sequences are really not as bad as some people make it out to be, especially now that Mega Man 8 sports a "permanent checkpoint" feature. Reaching the halfway point of each stage allows you to always restart at that halfway point, even if you lose all your lifes. No more getting booted back to the very beginning, means that the challenge is more reasonable this time around. I don't think the Dr. Wily stages have those halfway checkpoints, but they tend to be half as short, with only one stage testing your limits. But even then, I really have to stress that nothing can reach the disaster that were 7's Dr. Wily stages, so, c'mon. You can do it!

The currency system has also been revamped, so that the bolts you need for the shop can only be found in specific nooks 'n crannies now, instead of being dropped by enemies. To compensate for the lesser quantity, the shop is now dedicated to purchasing permanent abilities. (E-Tanks have been replaced by your robot dog, who you can order to refill your health per every checkpoint, and every death too I think?) It's definitely worth going for them, they'll help you in the long run, but it's important to know that you will not be able to buy every ability in a single run. It's better to concentrate on a "build", by purchasing only the stuff that you think will appeal to your playstyle. Me personally, I've never understood the usefulness of stuff like the Laser & Arrow Shots, but being able to buy stuff like "Start the stage with 4 lifes instead of 2", or being able to recover more health from energy capsules helps tremendously.

Okay, so far my entire sales pitch has just been "It's good because it's easier", but that may not be enough to sway anybody from a 3/5 rating. And I suppose I'll have to accept that if you just don't have interest in the Mega Man formula as it currently stands, period, then... maybe this one ain't gonna do much for you. But right now, I'm focusing on that one guy that DOES see the fun in Mega Man's gameplay, they just don't jive with the difficulty. And if you are that person, then this is the earliest example of a Mega Man title you should be able to enjoy.

On top of the accessible difficulty, I also think the presentation here holds up pretty well. Just because the series didn't transition to 3D, doesn't mean it's not taking advantage of the PS1's capabilities. The spritework and backgrounds took a step-up in detail, and every stage sticks out in its vibrant and distinct choice of color. It's nice to stop and soak in the visuals once in a while. The soundtrack's up there as one of the series's chillest, but still manages to capture the essence of what these games are known for, while going for a unique sound that's difficult to find in other places. Both of these elements contribute to giving Mega Man 8 its own sense of identity. A stark contrast from the 6 NES Mega Mans that all felt like expansion packs to each other, Mega Man 8 toys around with presentation and mechanical variety in such a way that feels entirely familiar, yet suitable for a new generation of console.

I really like the cutscenes too, and I will die on this hill. Not that I'm blind to just how objectively terrible they are, but you're no fun if you think that's a detriment to the experience! The way the dubbing on this came out is its own miracle to appreciate, just so utterly "we don't give a fuck" in its energy that it goes back around to being just as entertaining as the Resident Evil 1 cutscenes. There ain't that many of them, but each one is unforgettable. Shoutouts to Wh- Mega Man's actress for tanking that 30-second scream. As a kid, it made me go "jesus christ." As an adult, it still makes me go "jesus christ", but now I'm more baffled than unsettled.

I don't know, man, this game just hits right. This is a properly polished Mega Man, right here. I could probably set my standards higher and ask for more, but considering that this would be the last classic Mega Man game for over a dozen years, I'd rather appreciate that the series managed to get a pretty pleasant one in before it got shelved in favor of its spinoffs. I'm not the type who needs innovation. I need heart. 8 has mine.

Now, if somebody could get Mega Man out of that recolored Looney Tunes background in the cover art, I would much appreciate it.

Going back to this game and realizing just how weak the drift boosting feels in comparison to later entries is its own form of whiplash. Well, there's that, and honestly one of the weakest Rainbow Road courses out there. It sure is a road, alright!

But I like Mario Kart 64 all the same. The combination of pre-rendered drivers and low poly 3D graphics has its own appeal, and there's more than a couple race tracks that have set a precedent for the rest of the series. You got your first major city stage in here, an Excitebike-like stadium full of bumpy roads... the desert level with the train is pretty fun to me, especially in those moments where you manage to just barely get past the train, while everyone else has to wait for it to pass by. Sherbet Land's probably my favorite stage, I dunno why. Could just be that the music is nostalgic, but I also just like winter-themed settings in general.

I don't revisit this game often, as it feels like you can quickly get all the mileage you need out of it within an hour or two. But it'd be nice to play it with a couple friends sometime, even if there's technically better options for a Mario Kart experience out there. I guess that's probably 64's biggest problem, isn't it? It's not a bad game by any means, it was just made obsolete the moment later Mario Kart entries started adding past courses into their selection. Now, you can experience them at 60fps, with remade graphics, and with better controls. That just leaves Mario Kart 64 to sit in a corner, saddened and forgotten. But at least I'm still here. It doesn't have to be THAT lonely. Anyway, see you in 5 years!

For what it's worth: it's more of Donkey Kong Country 2, and that ain't bad. I mean, the music isn't as strong, and the setting is a lot less interesting (Where even are we? Canada? Some sort of tropical island? Canada after the earthquakes made the ocean level rise?), but I just can't let myself be underwhelmed by the overall package, everything that I liked about DKC2's gameplay is more or less still intact. The loop of hunting down bonus rooms & DK Coins to unlock extra levels continues to be enjoyable, and the variety of mechanics keeps the levels fresh. And I know I said the music isn't as good, but actually, the underwater theme knocks it out of the park! Different vibe from Aquatic Ambience, but still very soothing to the soul.

Even Kiddy Kong is okay! Well, for now, anyway. The Kong family suffered a great loss on that fated Autumn. But until then, I'm happy that the clunk I felt while playing as the heavy-type character in DKC1 does not apply to Kiddy. While I can't say I'd pick him over Dixie if given a choice, the controls on him are refined enough that it wouldn't be a big deal to play as him whenever needed. It's a little like they brought over some elements of DKC1 to DKC2's formula, but polished them up to make the best of both worlds.

Of course, all of this means that if you didn't enjoy the platforming and steep difficulty of the previous DKC's, DKC3 is gonna do little to sway you. Conversely, if you DID enjoy DKC2, DKC3 feels like a pretty nice extra set of levels to sink your teeth into. Sometimes, I get the vibe that DKC3 was thrown together in more of a haste, and out of a contractual obligation (like, they signed up for a trilogy of games, something like that), just so Rare could get it out of the way and move on to the N64. Maybe that'd explain why it feels weaker than the rest. Yet even at its weakest, DKC3 still delivers a competent and polished platforming romp. I wouldn't come back to it often, but everytime I would, I wouldn't regret it either.

RIP Kiddy Kong 1996-1996 (Killed by Canada)

The existence of this game is infinitely fucking funny to me. Like, imagine being a Sega fan back in September of 1996. You have owned a Saturn for over 2 years now (i know this is a review for the genesis version, but bear with me here for a sec). The Genesis hasn't let you down, so you have faith that Sega will deliver a breakout hit for their 3D console anyday now. A new Sonic game that will make that 399$ price tag and 2 years of waiting totally worth it. Meanwhile, your friends at school are talking about Super Mario 64, Crash Bandicoot, and how cool as hell those games are, and oh my gosh, the 3D!!! It's so amazing!!! But all you have is your Saturn. And unless you dipped your hands into Panzer Dragoon, or Nights into Dreams, neither of which proved to put the console on the map... you don't really have anything you can boast about. All you can do is wait, while listening to your friends talking about how they made all the right life choices.

But, November rolls around, and you finally get your Mario 64 competitor. And this is it. This is the representation of your revolutionary new console. Sonic 3D Blast. This utter fucking marketing lie of a title, is all you're getting for the foreseeable future. Sega simply couldn't deliver a 3D Sonic title in time to compete against everyone else, so they figured if they would just slap the word "3D" into their isometric pre-rendered platformer, it'd be enough to fool the dumb children who were unfortunate enough to put their faith in a game publisher. I mean, I guess at this point you have something you can talk about to your school friends. But are you really going to?

Within historical context, I consider 3D Blast to be a disaster of comedic proportions. This one game single-handedly disqualified Sonic as Mario's rival for the rest of eternity, even if people may have not felt this at the time. From here on out, there was no more consistency to be found in a Sonic game, no gurantees made, all expectations belonged to the fools, fools such as me. Whereas Mario was an experimental playground with consistent rules, Sonic began to no longer care about rules, cohesion, or its audience as a whole. We have now entered an era where Sonic just kinda does whatever the fuck it wants. Sometimes, this leads to some great things, other times it doesn't. Next to Knuckles Chaotix, Sonic 3D Blast is one of the first examples of where it really doesn't.

Taking out all historical context however, it's not like 3D Blast is the spawn of satan, or anything... by itself, this is just a very okay game. Probably the biggest mistake it commits is citing one of its inspirations as Sonic Labyrinth, which I cannot imagine anyone in their right mind doing today. But, as a whole, it's functional, beatable, and even a casual player could see its true ending. We were only just exiting out of the age of insanely difficult games mind you, so having something like this back then was pretty nice. That is, if you cared less about challenge, and more about just having an experience that doesn't frustrate you.

Perhaps this is my just my fondness for collect-a-thons coming out, but I do enjoy the loop of exploring a level to find the 5 flickies required to progress onward. Labyrinth influences aside, it's pretty difficult to get lost in here, everything is very contained and exploration segments are segregated into digestible chunks. It's doable, and that's good. The bad, is that once you've cleared one level, you've basically seen them all. The only thing that sets them apart from there on is visual variety, but the gameplay loop fails to introduce new elements at a consistent enough rate to not make every level feel like you're doing the same thing. Perhaps introducing more inventive ways of catching flickies would've helped, alongside new types of flickies that behave in different manners. But the game shows all its cards in just one stage. From there on, you catch them in the exact same way, every single time.

I think it also goes without saying that a game like this absolutely does not lend itself to the style of gameplay that Sonic is known for. Being originally created for the Genesis, means that the isometric field of view can't be too large, and the field of view being like this means that you can't make Sonic go too fast, lest you'll be running into obstacles all the time. So, out goes the speed that Sonic is primarily known for, in favor of a leisurely jog. Which in hindsight, makes me realize that this game could've probably made a lot more sense if they didn't use Sonic for it at all. But, that'd of course means less copies sold, so here he is. In name only.

I've never been a big fan of the previous special stages that accompanied the classic Sonic games, and the ones found here aren't all that better either, buuut... they are pretty easy. This leads back into me saying how even a casual player could see the game's true ending, as it honestly takes very little effort to access the special stages in this game. And the special stages themselves are shockingly banal, a literal short-width bridge you run straight across, with some spikes you occasionally jump over. Missing the rings here is near-impossible, they all last less than 20 seconds, and there is barely any difficulty ramp-up to speak of. As long as you explore the stages a tiny bit, you'll get the 7 chaos emeralds in no time.

Interestingly, the Saturn version completely redid the way its special stages work. While the rest of the game was created by Traveller's Tales, I hear that Sonic Team stepped in for the Saturn special stages. And get this: They're the best part of the game, and a huge reason to play that version of the game over this Genesis counterpart. They're like the Sonic 2 special stages, but done right. They're in actual proper 3D, ensuring smooth scrolling and movement, Sonic himself feels pretty good to control in them, and they're just better designed, maintaining a good flow throughout. If the entire game was just an endless runner version of these stages, I'd hop into it more often. Unfortunately as it is, they're just one small good part of an ultimately mediocre package.

But wait! There is something else I can praise about this, and - you guessed it - it's the soundtrack! I have absolutely no idea what caused Jun Senoue to score Sonic Superstars the way he did, because if you go back all the way here... he did the entire soundtrack for the Genesis version of 3D Blast, and it's great! This is what I'm talking about! It feels like an extension of the music found in Sonic 3. Same style, same general instrumentation, but more strong melodies, and a unique song for every single act. The CD Audio soundtrack composed by Richard Jacques for the Saturn port is no slouch either. It's a very different style compared to the type of Sonic music we're generally used to, but it's very bright, cheery, and nostalgically welcoming. Completely unlike Richard, when he finds out people make covers of his songs!

Well, in any case, a good soundtrack and a series of excellent special stages for a specific port of the game is not quite enough to save the whole thing. It's only enough to elevate 3D Blast into a totally passable experience. It sure as heck functions, but it couldn't have been possibly made in a worse time and place. Accompanied by a true follow-up to Sonic 3 & Knuckles, 3D Blast could've been remembered as a neat distraction for when you're bored. In the present reality however, 3D Blast IS the Sonic 3 & Knuckles follow-up, whether that was its intention or not. The circumstances made it that way. Now, that's all I'll remember it for. And the memory will make me giggle.

THIS REVIEW IS SPONSORED BY RED BULL

I really don't have a lot of racing game experience. I'm planning to fix that in the future, but for the time being, the PS1 Wipeouts have been one of my most prominent investments into the genre, especially as a kid. I liken them somewhat to a grittier Mario Kart, mostly just because of the arcade racing structure, combined with item usage to get an edge in the course. But, I'm aware that's a pretty insane generalization of what this series is.

In any case, I absolutely fuck with this. I don't have to worry about number crunching stats on vehicles because there's only like 4-5 to choose from, alongside a pretty limited amount of tracks. These would've been negatives back in 1996, but in emulation form, Wipeout XL lends itself well as an entry point into the genre, and a game that I can spend one peaceful afternoon on, get some thrills out of it, and move on. The learning curve is braindead easy, but the vehicles feel weighty in just that right way. Narrowly scraping against the walls as sparks come flying out, instinctively leaning left and right as I brace myself against those tougher turns, and feeling each and every bump like it was impacting me in reality. The items themselves pack a lot of punch, and on that rare occasion where you nail the use of the insta-kill laser to take out your opponent, it makes you feel like the harbinger of doom. The AutoPilot item is the true harbinger though, I can't even count the amount of times It sent me directly into a wall. Fuck that thing.

Bonus points go to the overall presentation and the readability of its race tracks, on top of that very specific UK-produced assortment of techno music that could've only existed in that era of video games. No doubt a lot of my fondness can be attributed to nostalgia, as has been the case for my other recent reviews. And if I were to look at it from another way, it's true that Wipeout's appeal lies more in a niche techno sci-fi aesthetic than a wide-ranging amount of character and personality. Without an appreciation for the currently existing appeal, Wipeout's probably closer to a 3.5 or a 4 star rating. But for me, this game has never let me down. It has only ever promised me a good racing time, and that's exactly what it gives. Sometimes, I only wish there was more of it. And I don't mean more Wipeouts, or spiritual successors. I mean like, 6 more levels for this game. Maybe 8. But then again, short and sweet is better than long and stale.

Why she walk like Sly Cooper tho

Anyway, it's... pretty good! I was so instantly captivated by its moody atmosphere and strong sound design, it only took 20 minutes of playing for me to stop just to tell my friends that they should probably check this out. Part-time Hotline Miami in its surreal choice of colors, and part-time Killer7 in its viscerally gushing fountains of blood. The blend of sniper and puzzle genres is a very unique one, and the emphasis on taking out every enemy with nothing but a single ricocheting bullet leads to some very satisfying victories once you nail down the right order.

Puzzle games are not usually my strong suit, and I grow impatient with them far more easily than I should. Most of the time, my brain just ain't capable of thinking several steps ahead, I think in the moment instead. Despite this, I've found that Children of the Sun's difficulty is relatively lenient for the majority of the game's 3-4 hour duration, and allows for multiple solutions to one problem with a little bit of improvisation. At the same time, none of it felt mindless, and I still felt like I had to put in the effort to clear a good chunk of the stages. The balance was struck very well here to make dumbos like me feel a little more clever, while at the same time leaving the option for more skilled play depending on what you can come up with.

I feel like the only exception to this was the final level, which I think escalated the difficulty way too suddenly from the previous stages. We've gone from somewhat tricky but short-length stages, to a marathon that demanded twice the amount of steps than anything before. Losing here felt really draining, and having to think about replicating everything I just did was even moreso. I think this could've been in part fixed if the game remembered the position from where you fired at, so I wouldn't have to walk over there each time. Hiding a bunch of the mooks inside buildings was also a bit of a frustrating process that led to a bunch of time wasted just trying to scout them out across several failed attempts. I nearly gave up here, but eventually pushed on through and won. It's just a shame that for every single level I felt satisfied in, the finale was the only one where satisfaction was replaced with a feeling of relief instead.

Even so, it can't be ignored that for 95% of Children of the Sun's duration, I had a ton of fun. One subjectively frustrating level aside, this is still a raw as hell video game, and one that paints a very strong first impression for its developer. They're definitely on my radar now, and I'm looking forward to seeing what they'll create next.

So, here I finally am. Face-to-face with THE childhood game, the one that I have so much nostalgia for, it should speak enough to how completely skeeved this review could turn out to be. As much as I did always wish to get my hands on a copy of Crash 2 or 3 as a kid, at the time I could only ever experience those games at a friend's house, or via a short-lived rental. My game collection as a whole, was poor and miserable compared to my friends. I had approximately 20 games I could not give a single shit about, a copy of Final Fantasy 8 that froze on the CG opening, Spyro 2 & Rayman 2 were fun until they mysteriously disappeared from my house, Crash Bash was a thing until I tried putting it into my pocket and effectively crumpled the disc... oh, and one day, I got super excited to find a copy of Tekken 3 hiding behind one of the drawers! Only to be underwhelmed when I found out it was just the demo. Also, no memory card for any of this. At least I still had my PS2- oops, my sibling gave it to a friend who then literally ran off with it and never gave it back. Hm, I guess that only leaves Rayman 1... and this game as the two remaining things I could play for months upon months. Hey, at least those had the password system.

So, I've been thinking about who do I actually want to write this review for, and from what sort of perspective. I mean, just because I've amassed triple digits worth of playthroughs on Crash Bandicoot 1, that doesn't mean I wanna blindly defend it as the best platformer ever made, or whatever the fuck. Even with my bias, I wanna try looking at this from an objective viewpoint. And for most newcomers, the objective viewpoint of Crash 1 is gonna likely be "the Super Mario 64 competitor that is nowhere near as impressive." Despite this criticism, the PS1 trilogy of Crash games still ended up being highly profitable. They were a major cornerstone of the console, and even deemed to be the unofficial mascot of PlayStation for its 64-bit tenure. Why? What do people see in this basic run-of-the-mill platformer that goes beyond just blind nostalgia goggles? Let's figure this out first.

Personally, the first Crash was put in a rather unfair position by its own marketing team, and to a certain extent, by its own creators. Which might not've felt like it at the time, but it certainly feels more poorly aged now. Crash Bandicoot strolling up to Nintendo's HQ with a megaphone, cementing himself as "the moustache man's worst nightmare," also cemented himself as a revolutionary. With the PlayStation succesfully swooping in and establishing a lucrative playerbase, the internet was pining for a war. The elusive Mario killer, the people's craving for a 3D PlayStation platformer properly satisfied, and one that would give them a reason to shittalk Nintendo fans for "still playing those baby Mario games." The burden of all that fell to Crash.

But the matter of the fact is, Crash was never going to live up to those expectations. Naughty Dog was a team of like 8 to 9 people, the main leaders of which have never even created a 2D platformer before. By '94, Nintendo have exhausted everything they wanted to do with the 2D Mario formula. They had the experience, and were ready to design a wholly new type of game. Naughty Dog meanwhile, had to stay behind, and play catch-up on what even makes a platformer fun at all. Whereas Nintendo was ready to ask themselves "How do we design a 3D platformer," Naughty Dog was over there figuring out how to design a 2D one. And then they simply adapted that design into a 3D space. The ambitions were there, but they were more humble. Yet, they were needlessly blown out of proportion to be on the same level as fuckin' Mario, I mean, come on. It's no wonder newcomers expect more out of Crash than what they actually get.

Now, the thing is, Crash 1 did not have the open-endedness of Mario 64, nor did it have the huge moveset. The most that could be argued is that Crash looked pretty damn good for its age, and looks appealing even today thanks to prioritizing cartoonism over realism. So, is that it, then? Did people only like Crash just because it "looked" good? Just a bunch of style over substance? And here's where my defense comes in: It's worth noting that I did not grow up with Crash Bandicoot 1 back in 1996. I didn't exist back then. Really, my era of playing video games came around 2007 or 2008. And our family was ALWAYS several console generations behind. My cool friend with the sweetest, kindest mother you could imagine, he owned an Xbox 360 and GTA4. I pictured him as the god of the neighbourhood, because me and the rest were stuck with consoles like the NES, the Gameboy, and the PS1. I had the comparison point, so I was firmly aware that Crash 1 was not the pinnacle of graphical prowess, nor innovation by the time I started playing it. So then, if I wasn't impressed by its sheer novelty, then what was it actually about Crash 1 that stuck with me to this day? And, it's really not that complicated: It's not about nostalgia. The game is simply fun.

Sometimes, you don't need a game to reinvent the wheel. Sometimes, what you want is something familiar, something that has been done before, something simple that you can figure out how to play within 20 seconds. Leading industry publishers keep trying to tell me how linearity is an antiquated concept that nobody wants anymore, and I think that's genuinely insulting and ignorant to say. Sure, I like squeezing in an open world into my docket every now and then, but I can't deal with that sort of scope ALL the god damn time, it's an exhausting commitment. There is still room for 5-hour hallway platformers out there. These are my palette cleansers between longer titles, this is my comfort food. There was room for this sort of platformer even back then. Have you seen how people played that Mario 64 beta booth? They were utterly befuzzled by the game, because half the challenge was learning a new, daunting control scheme, a new type of analog controller, all within a completely new and unfamiliar dimension. Crash 1 was criticized for a lack of innovation, but that doesn't mean it didn't have a place back in 1996. Because Crash 1 was capable of offering comfort and familiarity, that in turn gave it something that Mario 64 did not have. The ability to ease into this new era of 3D gaming.

The only condition left is that the game has to flow. And, I don't know about everybody else, but to me? Crash 1 absolutely flows. A big mistake that many failed attempts at mascot platformers committed at the time, often fell to the level designers having next to no grasp of what makes a platformer flow. Their solution was to either make everything a maze, to create a needless amount of open space, make their levels three or four times as long than they needed to be, or, worst case scenario: Copy and paste. It's a relief then to say that Crash 1 avoids just about every single one of these trappings, albeit I can think of at least two levels that go on for maybe twice as long as they should. Yes, hello, I see you, Sunset Vista. Aside from this, I do think that the highly streamlined nature of each level allowed Naughty Dog to gain a solid grasp on how to escalate the challenge, starting off from the first stage that takes you through a simple and cozy variety of setpieces, before slowly ramping up the precision required from you over the course of time. The game is notorious for getting pretty difficult in its 2nd half. Unfair, though? Not at all. Everything comes together with practice. Part of what helps make this practice possible is that that extra lifes are extremely abundant throughout. So abundant, that part of the fun of Crash 1 is seeing just how quickly I can get up to 99 lifes, which generally, I max out about 40% through the game.

In the end, all you're doing is walking, jumping, and spin attacking enemies and crates alike. It's a horrendously basic gameplay loop, but it's made engaging through the skill and reaction timing it demands out of you. There is no such thing as going through the motions here. The stages are constantly testing you to stop and think about the right positioning and timing. This is coupled with a strong amount of level variety - far stronger than games like Crash 2 or 3 even - where level themes are at most repeated only once, but as you start getting closer to the end of the game, plenty of stages start introducing level themes that are unique to themselves, and never repeated anywhere else. Each level theme introduces you to a new set of obstacles, enemies, and at times changes the camera perspective to shake things up. Some levels are 3D only, some are 2.5D, one's a top-down exploratory stage, and of couse there's the iconic boulder chase stages. Though graphics may not be everything, visual variety is important to keep aspects of the gameplay fresh, and considering Crash 1's simplicity, these are highly important additions to retain engagement in what sort of challenge awaits you next.

Alright, now let's balance things out here. The criticisms. Crash 1 sports two stages themed around riding a hog. A neat way to keep in line with the goal of variety, but the hitboxes on these seriously needed another pass. You know the fucking bit I'm talking about if you've played Crash 1, the obstacle with the rotating pole thing? The one where everytime you jump over it, you clench your ass over the 50% chance that it might just kill you no matter how precisely you timed your jump? Yeah, that, and the one part where you gotta zig-zag left and right to break open all the crates, but god is just begging for you to somehow miss one of them so that way he finds us too amusing to be deemed a mistake. The silver lining is that though these sequences were spiritually brought back in Crash 2, they were vastly improved on.

Speaking of "breaking open the crates" and "mistakes", let's get into Crash 1's biggest mistake, the one that pertains to completionists. So, there are all these crates scattered across every stage. You bounce or you break them open so you can get the wumpa fruit, you collect 100 wumpa fruit, you earn a life. The act of breaking the crates is pretty satisfying in itself, but get this: if you break ALL the crates in a stage (not counting the ones found in the bonus levels), you get a gem at the end of it. Get all gems in every stage, you unlock an alternate ending. Ooh, it's a collect-a-thon now! How fun! What's more, there are certain stages you won't be able to immediately do a 100% crate run on... but there are these special Colored Gems, which unlock new paths in previous stages. Sometimes it's just these very small rooms that contain the remaining crates you need, but other times they're total extensions of the level, about 1-3 more minutes of platforming that you wouldn't be able to see otherwise. In the end, the game is still pretty short in spite of these additions, so this all sounds like a pretty nice way to appeal to collectible fans, right?

Okay, now imagine if they fucking hated you though, and made it so aside from having to obtain all crates in a level, you also have to perform a no-death run. Die once in a stage, and all those crates you collected won't mean anything, the game will simply not grant you the gem. Why????? Well, I know why. It was to prevent rentals. This sort of needless artificial difficulty was the justification to pad out game length. If you're just playing the game casually without worrying about the gems, you will objectively have a better time! Otherwise however, going for the gems effectively means that you will be abolishing all checkpoints. Every death will be followed by the two loading screens required to restart each stage. I have gotten good enough at Crash Bandicoot 1 to be perfectly capable of clearing a 100% run. I do not expect many people will have the patience to do the same. The no-death requirement makes this a stupidly stressful ordeal.

Which is why... I'm tempted to recommend that newcomers should play the remake version of Crash 1, found in the N.Sane Trilogy. They've done some very commendable things to streamline the 100%ing of the first game, primarily by removing the no-death requirement almost completely. The only exception is that you still have to do a no-death run for the 6 levels that contain the Colored Gems, but that's a way more reasonable compromise over having to do a no-death run over the whole goddamn game. There's just one catch... the remake is infamously known for its questionable hitboxes, which make certain levels that demand precision far harder to beat than they are in the original. I've gotten used to these physics myself personally, but far too many horror tales are told about the bridge level.

This all leads to the following conundrum: There is no definitive way to play Crash Bandicoot 1. The original is tight and precise to play, but its 100% requirements are awful. The remake makes these 100% requirements much better, but the gameplay loses the tightness and precision in the process. As a long-time fan, my personal recommendation is that you should do a casual run of the original Crash 1. But that's only if you're really interested in a chronological look in the series. If you're willing to go out of order, then I wholeheartedly recommend the original Crash 2. If you thought Crash 1 was too simple for your tastes, Crash 2 expands on the moveset in some very fun ways, makes its difficulty more accessible, and its 100% requirements considerably more doable. Worst case scenario if you can't emulate, the remake is generally fine for what it does, though it does require some adjusting.

Regardless, I have a lot of thoughts about the other games, but... I think this is where I'll wrap it up for now. Crash 1 is not incredible. I was so swept up in writing the rest of this review, I didn't even mention the native american stereotyping going on here, which yeah, I could certainly fuckin' do without. It is not the Mario killer and it sure as shit ain't gonna get anywhere close to the level of Mario 64. But it doesn't need to. It never, ever needed to. It is the simplicity of Crash 1 that I adore. That total confidence in delivering a platformer that everybody just gets instantly, was Crash 1's biggest strength in an era where companies tried to deliver unfamiliar experiences all the time. A lot of it must've been really overwhelming to people who had a harder time adapting. And it's thanks to Crash that there was still some speck of appreciation for the older era of gaming to be found. Innovation is a great thing. But there are times when I just wanna go backwards, to see that 3 hours is all I need to feel completely satisfied with a game.

Just as long as, y'know, you price it accordingly.

The vibe of the the first Nights game is one of the closest things to magic that I'm capable of feeling as an adult. Thanks to its combination of nostalgically polygonal graphics, an easy to get into gameplay loop, a vibrant art style, and an absolutely sublime soundtrack, I feel one with Nights, in the same way that its main protagonists do. Though it may not necessarily be a Christmas-themed game, it elicits that same sense of wonder I had as a kid. Watching those old Christmas DVD's, finding myself escaping to a world where everything feels exactly right, exactly as it should. Free of worries, and full of joy. Life is but a dream, and the night is synomous with beauty, not the risk of getting mugged in an alley.

Admittingly, I just said that the gameplay is easy to get into, but during my first couple attempts, I didn't actually get what Nights wanted out of me. You do combo chains by collecting as many things as possible, okay, I'm with you so far. You can draw circular trails to attract nearby objects, that's pretty cool too. You break open the capsule with enough collectibles gathered, and then you head over to the goal, to proceed with the next segment of the level. But the one thing I couldn't grasp is why did I keep getting D ranks and F ranks for my efforts. In hindsight though, my effort was bare minimum.

Nights is a score-based game, and though it leaves the option of heading straight for the endgoal open to you, unlocking the game's finale requires a series of high scores. To get them, what you really want to do is go AROUND the endgoal instead, and do another loop of the stage, which causes all of the collectibles to respawn. And then you do another loop, and another. And all the while, your time limit continues ticking down, meaning that while each loop is a chance to score additional points and improve your rank, the time you have to do so grows tighter, and at some point, you'll have to choose whether you want to risk another loop, or call it there and move on to the next segment. Playing Nights this way turns it into a game all about risk, seeing how much you can chew off, and how much faith are you able to place on your skill and efficiency. I don't normally say stuff like this, but I think it's valid enough to say that if if you're not playing Nights in this way, you are gonna get very little out of the experience. Otherwise, what's at play is an incredibly unique gameplay system that elegantly combines a simple control scheme with a satisfying depth in how you utilize it, and what sorts of choices you make with it.

I think the only real problem with Nights into Dreams is kind of the one we echo for more recent Nintendo Switch games: The fact that it was made for the Sega Saturn, instead of a more powerful console. Though arguments can be made on just how underpowered the Saturn was, fact is that most developers didn't know how to utilize it to its fullest potential. Nights itself suffers from its console's limitations, resulting in a depressingly low draw distance, and a poor field of view that gives the classic Sonic games a run for their money. Especially as you start picking up speed, it's really not easy to plan ahead for anything before you ram into it head-on. The modern ports provide a better draw distance, and I consider them the better way to play. But the field of view still remains an unfixed problem. At some point, it'd be nice to have a version of the first Nights game where things get zoomed out a bunch, but considering the nicheness of this franchise, it may take another 10 years before we get anything that nice...

Ah, well. Even with this flaw at hand, Nights is very short and really not that hard to play. Anyone who carries the same fascination I have with these sorts of old 3D games owes it to themselves to try it out. Unconventional games like this don't get greenlit often these days, they'd be deemed too much of a risk to even make it out of the pre-production phase. The very idea that Sega even allowed Sonic Team to go through with this instead of putting them on a major Sonic title is in itself an insane decision. Were mistakes made? Oh, no doubt there were several. But I respect the freedom of Nights into Dreams's existence way too much to call it one of them.

Princess Peach Showtime, a game where you press button A to jump, and button B to win.

Not for nothing, this is actually a well put together thing. It was just obviously designed with a 20-year younger audience than myself. Showtime isn't concerned with putting its playerbase in risky situations (unless you're going for those rehearse gold trophies, those ones actually gave me some shit), or getting them to think a puzzle over. It carefully crafts the illusion that it's doing both of these things through its theatrically elaborate spectacle, but that illusion only exists to fool a younger audience into thinking that all the flashy lights and big cutscene moments mean that they're really good at playing the game. Feel Good's goal is in their very company name: You're here to press that B button, and feel very good about yourself.

I can't say that this sort of design mantra makes for a very replayable experience. I'll give it credit and say that 8 hours of longevity is double the amount that I was honestly expecting, but throughout these 8 hours, you're basically getting shoved from one baby's first platforming challenge, to another. The speed at which it shoves you is breakneck enough that there's a very impressive amount of variety to be had here, and it's a major factor that kept me interested in reaching the credits.

But the ideas at hand are just never evolved enough to mean a whole lot in the grand scheme of things, not to mention their pace is constantly broken (not broken up, just broken) by unskippable cutscenes. This especially becomes an issue when the post-game introduces a new set of collectibles that basically asks you to re-run every single stage again. But with this amount of unskippable scenes, do you honestly expect me to bother? So because there's no satisfaction to be obtained from the mechanical side of things, your main source of satisfaction will come down to the visual aspect, so y'know, the spectacle. The biggest problem with this, is whereas gameplay depth makes your game more exciting on subsequent runs, visual depth will only carry the first go-around.

Keeping all this in mind, I've still had a very pleasant experience with Princess Peach Showtime. I just don't have any reason to play it ever again. That sucks. But, that's not gonna be a problem with kids. Take it from me, kids can play one game hundreds of times if it looks cool enough, and that's exactly what this game was built for. That mysterious ability to make endless fun out of one thing, that grown-ups like us lose over time.

I really like this new direction for Peach, on a side note. The voice direction stuck out to me especially, cutting away from the over-the-top high-pitched damsel voice in favor of just having her speak like a regular-ass person is a big plus in my book. Also, Dashing Thief Peach genuinely rules, did you even hear this song yet? Her segments were some of the coolest parts of the game, and it makes me kinda wish they made an entire game just around that concept. Kind of like a parallel to Barbie, what this game shows is that Peach can be more than just one person, one profession, one aspect of a personality. And if we can get more takes of that going forward - something with a little more meat on the bone if I'm being hopeful - then I'm all for it.

Do you know why I'm here today? Why has fate brought me to this site, writing these words for this review, with such passion for video games? Well, actually, it's not because I grew up with Mario 64, though you were close. The actual answer is way stupider:

Mario 64 blooper videos taught me english.

And I'm not talking about those SMG4 Mario 64 videos, those were actually past my prime, I was already on my way to other pastures by the time they started coming out. Nah, I'm talking the REAL old school shit, Fleskhjerta with his Windows Movie Maker editing prowess and overly liberal usage of Homer Simpson sounds. Truth is, I haven't actually gone back to most of those videos since 2010, I figure whatever the hell is waiting for me back there is either gonna be embarrassing for both me and Fleskhjerta alike, or just outright poorly aged. Maybe one day I'll ruin the magic for myself, but right now, the point is, those things were some of the very earliest opportunities for me to practice english as my second language. I mean, I don't remember them being particularly varied in their word and joke usage, so y'know, hear a pattern enough times and eventually it'll stick as being something in relation to this or that specific scenario. There's a very distinct possibility that amongst my first 10 learned words, one of them was "Mamafucker."

So in that way, Mario 64 has stuck out as something that didn't just revolutionize the industry landscape as a whole, but has also revolutionized my path in life, and the very reason why this is my main language now, with the other one being bumped into a secondary. And that's not the only things that Mario 64 had an impact on. It had an impact on the prototype and rumor mill scene too. The ever elusive quest to find Luigi, to find a beta copy, to uncover every unknown secret that's still somewhere, out there. The impact that Mario 64 had on 2D games, poisoning the entire genre to supposed obsoletion, until eventually people got their heads on straight and realized both can co-exist.

So much impact all around, yet there is one thing that very few games have ever replicated about Mario 64, and that's its impressively technical moveset. Spyro, Banjo, Jak, Sly, all excellent games in their own right, but everything feels a little more "controlled" in those ones, it's not as easy to pull off crazy unintended moves. Of all the ways they've been impacted by this moustached fuck, they never quite replicated that absolute joy of being able to break every stage with just a little bit of freeform acrobatics. Those sorts of influences would only be felt much later, in the form of games like Hat in Time, and Pseudoregalia.

Is the camera a bit shit in today's age? Absolutely. Does the athletic theme drive me insane after hearing it for the 60th time? That too. But for every instance I return to Mario 64, my increasing knowledge of it turns it into a slightly different game each time. A seemingly huge, sprawling world turned into a small, contained playground. Walls turned from obstacles to shortcuts, roads that I once commonly traveled are now roads I can skip altogether, higher ledges that were once out of reach, I can now easily wallkick up towards. Every playthrough, I find a new route, a new way to beat a stage, a new experiment to attempt, and it fucking rules. It rules that 15 years later, I can still find new things in a game that takes less than 10 comfortable hours to beat. And the craziest part of it is, I still haven't played this game with anything else but a keyboard.

This moveset, this unabashed freedom that Mario 64 permits, the ability to solve every objective in a variety of different ways, in different orders, or even choosing what you want and don't want to do, is why it's such an instant classic. And the thing is, there are games out there where the freedom of playing a game in multiple ways removes any semblance of difficulty, when it has to balance itself around each task being potentially your first. And I think Mario 64 avoids this sort of trapping by making it so the game's difficulty scales with your understanding of the moveset. The default path will be the longest, and balanced around casual play. But once you start wondering "Hmm, I wonder if I could make it over there if I do this..." that's when the challenge really kicks in.

But you never find yourself asking "What's the point of doing it the hard way, if I can do it the easy way?" because you know that whatever unconventional trick you're about to attempt, has the potential to completely skip over a part of the stage and save you a minute or two of your time. Skilled moveset usage encourages more efficient play. Which is also a bit of an oxymoron, because despite these optional routes technically being harder to pursue, mastering them also makes the game way easier and faster than it would be otherwise. It's that sort of design that makes Mario 64 so satisfying to play.

And it's not just that Mario 64 knows what type of game it is, but its focus on shortcuts and easy versus hard routes make it so the game also wants to know what type of player YOU are. That's right, it's not just a bit, fuckers. Every playthrough of Super Mario 64 IS personalized.

This is one of those games where it's better to watch it on Youtube than it is to experience it yourself. I find myself intrigued by the detective-y noir presentation of the story, and the many notes that you find harken back to the vibe of the original Alone in the Dark. Truth being, I mainly tried this game out because its writer was also involved in Soma, and I think they're doing a pretty alright job here. However, these are not strong enough pulls for me to deal with this game's many puzzles, or especially its lackluster combat paired with forgettable enemy design. The attempts at incentivizing stealth alone severely put me off, the protagonist walks so slow that the enemies you're tailing behind are more likely to do an entire loop around the area and catch up behind you before you reach your goal.

It's funny, because putting it into perspective, the original Alone in the Dark is a game with infinitely worse combat and puzzles that are way more obtuse than anything found here. There are so many things in that game that are out to kill you in cheap and unfair ways, there are potential softlocks to run into, and its guns don't work half the time. And yet, I beat that game. I beat it exactly because of this sort of aggressive cruelty and unpredictability it offered, where every individual room felt like its own unique challenge to overcome. It was the game's strongest point, and it's something that the reboot desperately lacks. Trading in the wonder of discovering a huge jellyfish wriggling in a bathtub, or walking out the front door of the mansion only to be consumed by a giant monster, or touching a statue only to summon a poltergeist that violently shakes the screen and relentlessly pursues you... Alone in the Dark (2024) sacrifices all of this in favor of plain and boring predictability. True, you might not know in what sort of place you're going to wind up next, but you'll always know what's going to happen, a bunch of mindless combat against a bunch of mindless zombie-like enemies. This is not a reimagining, it's an unimagining.

Back in the day, arcade cabinets were in the best position to compete against each other. An interesting sounding title, or a bunch of screenshots in a magazine, or some features advertised on the back of the box could've sold you on purchasing a game, but there's no actual guarantee what you'd get is as good as you expected. The same goes for those 90's game commercials that spent 85% of their runtime grossing you out, and the remaining percentage on showing like, 4 seconds of the game. Compared to all that, an arcade cabinet felt more confident. As you walked throughout the room, each cabinet would commonly display an uninterrupted slice of what you're in for, and properly convince you that THIS is what you wanna spend your allowance on, not that loser's game. To that end, these sorts of games had pressure on them to not only look state-of-the-art, they had to play real good too.

Now, Metal Slug heeded this advice, and pulled out all the stops as far as visuals go. Like, god damn, this is a fine looking run 'n gun, far beyond anything its competitors had to offer. The extreme detail on these sprites is so on point, you could look at an explosion graphic and immediately recognize it as being from Metal Slug. Some influence from Hayao Miyazaki's films was taken too, I especially recognize it around the way the enemy soldiers were designed. This is the sort of game where its short length was utilized to cram in an intense amount of visual detail and variety across the whole board.

These sorts of graphics also help to contribute to a better game feel, which considering the simplicity of the first Metal Slug, it desperately needs it. When compared to the later entries, it can't be denied that Metal Slug 1 feels very understated. It lacks the sequel's surreal enemy encounters, or the third game's crazy weapon variety, but in the very least, what is here is loud, fast, and frantic. With some practice, stages are built to be charged through, guns mowing down dozens of enemies, getting in close-range to take out opponents with your knife, and grenades utilized to viscerally blow up the larger tanks. While I'm not too fond of riding the titular Metal Slug vehicle, one huge advantage it does have is when you hold the down button while riding it, you can start chucking your grenades at an insanely rapid pace, and it makes absolute mincemeat out of the bosses. Arcade difficulty still hits like a truck of course, but considering I reached a point where I can clear the first two or three stages without dying once, there's plenty of opportunity to hone in some skills 'n strategies here.

If I were to recommend Metal Slug to anyone, a part of me feels the urge to start them off with Metal Slug X & Metal Slug 3 first, just to give an immediate good impression of where it really honed its identity. But the first game takes half an hour to beat anyway, so there's really no reason why you couldn't blast your way through this one, then play the later ones right after. The modern conveniences of being able to use as many credits as you want via emulation makes these sorts of games as difficult or as accessible as you want them to be. And though a lot of Metal Slug 1's quality rides on its spritework alone, if you were to take it out, you'd still be left with a pretty polished combinatination of platforming and shooting action. It may not be as good or as inventive as the other entries. But it's still fun, and that's that.

Played using the "Lufia & The Fortress of Doom Restored" romhack. It provided much appreciated QoL such as faster walk speeds, nerfs for the infamously aggressive encounter rate, descriptions for items, and the ability for certain characters to use powerful equipment they weren't allowed to before. Initially, I was worried that last thing would offset the intended difficulty balance, but after beating it, I wouldn't worry. It only applies to the equipment found at the very end of the game, at which point the effort it takes to get it feels deserved, while keeping the difficulty even. This is still a very faithful way to experience the game, allowing you to play Lufia as intended. And that... may be the real problem.

The overall QoL from this romhack made Lufia into a tolerable experience, but... tolerable is pretty much the highest it ever goes. I wouldn't be so ridiculous as to say it's the worst RPG I've played, but even calling it "decent" makes my expression skeeve into a skeptical gritting of teeth, accompanied by a dog-like head tilt. Lufia 1 is the embodiment of chasing a trend in the 90's, about on par with Breath of Fire's attempt in the same year. The most cookie-cutter Dragon Quest clone you could think of. It's uninspired, uncreative, undesiring of doing anything of its own without looking over at its competitors for their fatherly approval over what makes an RPG, while never asking itself "What COULD make an RPG?"

Edit: Reading up a little further on the history of Lufia 1, it's at least worth noting that this was a rare case of a major SNES RPG that actually made it over to the west, in a time where games like Dragon Quest V and Final Fantasy V didn't make it outside Japan due to the genre being seen as a non-profitable niche. To many westerners playing it at the time, it's likely that Lufia didn't feel like a clone of anything, and thus felt quite special. As for me, I have had the chance to experience DQ5 & FF5 beforehand, hence my review was written with that sort of perspective. In a modern age, where you have access to all regions and there's no such thing as an "elusive japan-exclusive" game, Lufia does not carry the magic that it may have carried 30 years ago. Anyway, let's move on.

To its credit, of all the notes Lufia could take, it at least gets close to an engaging combat system. Enemies are no push-overs, and are capable of putting a serious dent in your party. There were plenty occasions where I felt encouraged to experiment with my expanding arsenal of spells, and felt rewarded for taking advantage of certain weaknesses, or developing basic strategies to overcome bosses. Over the course of each encounter with the regular enemies, you quickly learn which ones are more dangerous than others, and you start to actively prioritize getting rid of them as soon as possible.

In addition, Lufia 1 makes the decision to omit auto-targeting. So, if you target one enemy with two party members, but the first party member takes them out, the second member will end up hitting nothing. At first, this seemed like a baffling decision that was antiquated even in the year it came out in, but, I... actually grew to appreciate the element of strategy that this further added into the battles. You can't just mash attack in this game, the efficient way to play is to assign each of your members into specific groups of enemies based on how many you think it'll take to kill each enemy. Sometimes, this even puts the element of risk into the equation. Like, it may take one hit from this party member to kill this enemy, but there's a chance it may take two, so do you want to assign two party members onto this enemy and risk wasting one of them, or should you put them into a different enemy instead? Combine that with the aforementioned prioritizing of more dangerous enemies, and Lufia's combat is... again, to its credit, not mindless!

But even with this saggy ace in its water-soaked sleeve, Lufia is still a very grindy game at its core, and my appreciation for its combat was worn down before I even got halfway through. All that was left then, was everything else, and that might as well mean fuck all. The music? It's whatever. The variety? There is none. There are exactly four types of areas to be found: Grassy town, cave, tower, and castle. Though at one point the game pulls out an underwater cave, and the change in scenery almost made me rocket up into the sky and explode like a firework. And then it was back to those four types of areas for the rest of it. All of them sharing the same music, the same appearance, the same treasure chest hunting loop. Just a rearranged layout and a different color palette being the main difference amongst these approx. 100-150 boring-ass locales.

I don't exactly hold the story in any higher regard, though one thing that confuses me is I've seen at least two instances of the dialogue/localization being called laughably bad, and, I don't... see it? In fact, the localization looks to be perfectly servicable, clearly translated by an english-speaking guy. Is the case that the translation took out important pieces of dialogue out of the script and removed nuance that was originally there in the japanese version? Going through the story, I can't say anything felt missing, or out of place, but perhaps there's more to this than I'm aware of.

But, as far as nuance goes, yeah, there's just none to take away from this. Your main character's a bit of a clueless bumbler, Aguro & Jerin are just in it for the ride, while Lufia, the titular character, for all the importance she's given, can underwhelmingly be summed up as little more but a stereotype. She fights well alongside you, which is the one neat thing, but boy howdy does she love flowers, and shopping, and baking pies, and yowie, will she get jealous and competitive when you show concern for a half-elf with a kid's psychique- wait, what the fuck?

There was only one reason I bothered playing Lufia 1 at all. And much like the age-old question of "Why did the chicken cross the road," here too my reasoning is "to get to the other side." And on the other side, lies Lufia 2, the holy grail. It's the one game that everybody familiar with the Lufia franchise recommends, for some curious reason. Whether playing Lufia 1 or not is paramount to understand the continuity of its sequel - if there is a continuity - is a question I've yet to have an answer for, but I figured I'd cover the bases. Perhaps remind me after I beat Lufia 2, to update this review and answer whether playing this first game was worth it at all. But for now, something tells me, no. No, it was not. The process of forgetting everything about Lufia & The Fortress of Doom, begins... now.

My results screen

Many years ago, I had a lot of mixed feelings on the classic Resident Evil titles, and a lot of them revolved around their limited inventory system. Growing up with Silent Hill first, where there was no need to worry about stuff like that for most of their games, the inconveniences of Resident Evil were a hard pill for me to swallow. Coupled with the door opening animations, that - while iconic - take up obnoxious amounts of time while trying to get around the mansion faster, the franchise came off as this antiquated little thing that was only there for the people who grew up with it. I thought it was far too late for me to be getting into this series.

And then Resident Evil 7 came out, along with Resident Evil 2 Remake shortly after. Which is a topic for another day, but within one fell swoop (or two fell swoops), these games turned me into a huge fan of the franchise, and retroactively got me to beat as many of the other games as possible. Except the classic trilogy. Once again, I would try them, but not really be able to commit to their design, so I would just save state through it all. But I could feel it. Even with the aged PS1 original, I could feel this alluring challenge calling out to me. Especially after playing RE2 Remake, I decided that perhaps if I truly dedicated myself to RE1's challenge, I would be able to appreciate it more than ever before.

And so, I set out a goal: To play the original RE1 with the goal of getting good enough to unlock the Infinite Rocket Launcher. Save states were mostly disabled, at most only used near the designated save points as a way to quickly return to them without having to sit through the game over screen. This handicap also meant that if I was doing miserably, or came into something unprepared, I had a load state button I could use to quickly get back to the nearest Safe Room and re-organize my strategy for what's coming up next.

I have to stress just how nice it was to be able to do that in this game, as Resident Evil 1 does a really poor job conveying what's actually useful to carry in your limited inventory for the road ahead. Weapons are one thing, but sometimes you'll get a puzzle item which the game will either decide you'll need to use 5 minutes from now, or 2 hours. And all the while you're carrying it, a sense of decision paralysis washes over you, "Should I store this puzzle item in a Safe Room for now? But what if I'm about to use it? But if I keep it now, that's one less inventory space..." The crank is a fun example of this, an item you use once, are absolutely confident you'll no longer need it, only for the game to tell you 2 hours later "Haha, gotcha, you actually needed that crank for this spot as well!" Limited ammunition is scary in survival horror. Having to wrestle with limited inventory for puzzle items on the other hand, is just a frustrating time waster, and one that I'm glad I managed to somewhat circumvent.

One more complaint I have about RE1, and it's something that most new players are likely to fall into, is its deliberately misleading difficulty select. Intreestingly, the Japanese version of the game ensures to mark both Chris and Jill as "Hard Mode" and "Easy Mode", respectively. Meanwhile, the western releases took that bit of text out and places Chris as the default choice, ensuring most players will pick him for their first playthrough. I do not recommend doing that. The difference between Jill's 8 inventory slots and Chris's mere 6 is staggering, and alongside giving him more items to carry than Jill needs to, makes him a way bigger pain in the ass to play. Don't let the game fool you, Jill is the Normal Mode. Chris is what you play when you've familiarized yourself enough with the game to desire a more advanced challenge.

In spite of these gripes I had with RE1, I'm pleased to say that after my first playthrough fully concluded, I grew to enjoy the game a lot more. In fact, I kinda went crazy for it, and replayed it 12 more times in the span of two weeks. Totaling 13 playthroughs in total, I've done 8 runs of the original PS1 release (4 runs for both characters to get all of their endings), 2 runs of the Director's Cut, 1 run of the Dualshock Edition, and 2 runs of the PC version. About halfway through these runs, save states were completely abandoned altogether, and I grew comfortable enough to play the game as fully intended.

What the hell happened to cause that many runs? Familiarity happened. As you may remember, my initial goal when I started playing was to unlock the Infinite Rocket Launcher. To unlock this weapon, you are required to beat the game under 3 hours. Keeping in mind that this is the ultimate reward of Resident Evil 1, it becomes clear what the game aims to be on secondary playthroughs: A speedrunner's challenge. For your first playthrough, you don't know what's happening, you don't know what items go where, you don't know if there's gonna be an enemy or a boss around this next corner... now that you've beat it and the "fear" of the whole thing is gone, the game effectively turns into a Time Attack, where all your knowledge is used to efficiently optimize the hell out of everything. By my 2nd run, I've shaved off over 2 hours of playtime, and that's when I knew I was in love. What was once a game that required at least 2-3 sessions, I could now cozily knock out under 2 hours. Then I could show off my skills to my friends, and inevitably fuck up along the way!

So, the appeal of the gameplay turned out to show itself during secondary runs. But is there anything to appreciate during the 1st run? Well, I suppose that all depends on your enjoyment of irony. The entire aesthetic of the mansion is comprised of dated, surrealistic 90's CG graphics, at times it looks like my old grandma's house. It's not really scary as the "horror" in survival horror would suggest, nor is it atmospherically realistic, but it is atmospheric nonetheless. Atmospheric in the sense of it whisking you away into a world that doesn't quite feel like yours, but is enchanting to explore, overcome, and discover its secrets. Much like a point 'n click adventure, the more puzzles you solve, the more things click together. One mystery solved after another, with the satisfaction of knowing each one brings you closer to your end goal, until eventually you've wrapped up all of them with a neat ribbon.

Bonus points go to the feel of the weapons. The knife's a worthless piece of trash, and the handgun is deliberately weak. But that only serves to make weapons like the shotgun and grenade launcher feel so much more amazing by comparison. Getting in those shotgun headshots to instantly take out a zombie, or loading up a grenade launcher with acid rounds and taking out a boss in seconds feels so good, man. By the time you get to the final boss, the game loads you up with enough powerful weaponry to go all out, to end things on an explosive note. Does that lend itself to horror well? Not particularly, but it is by all means deliberate. The 1st half starts you off as a vulnerable mess, but by the end, it wants you to feel like you've grown into something much more experienced and powerful. It's the zombies who should be running away from you now. It's not scary, but it feels really good.

I adore this voice acting. Yes, it's awful, laughable, the writing for it is downright nonsensical at parts. They have fucked it up beyond all understanding, and it is exactly what makes it so enjoyable. Every line is stuck in my head, and kept me looking forward to whatever stupid thing the next cutscene will do. This sort of B-movie camp would become synomous with the Resident Evil brand for many games to come. And even though the voice acting would go on to improve, I think that each of the game's writers understood well, that Resident Evil's uniqueness comes from the very fact that it's not just a straightforward horror experience, but a balance of heavy tension, and cheesy levity.

Oh yeah, so, because of the fact that I've played so many versions of RE1, the big question is, which one would I recommend? So, there are some gaps in my experience, I haven't touched the Sega Saturn or the DS ports for example. But, if I were to recommend one to a newcomer... I'm a little torn between the original PS1 release, and the PC port. Once you apply a fanmade patch to the PC port, it is by far the best way to play. FMV's are present in all their uncensored gory glory, you have a button to spin around 180 degrees for quick turning, you can save without needing Ink Ribbons, and best of all: You can skip the door loading animations! However, I've noted its audio quality (specifically the voices) as being lower than the PS1 release, and at times, the voices were drowned out by the music. Unless there's a way to adjust this, I would recommend playing the original PS1 version despite its lesser QoL, and then switch over to PC once you've got to gripes with things.

As for the other versions, the PS1 was also home to "Director's Cut" and the "Director's Cut Dualshock Edition" versions of RE1. The regular Director's Cut adds some small new features, alongside the biggest addition of an "Arrange Mode", which rearranges enemies, items, and adds new camera angles. I'd recommend it for subsequent runs of the game, but not as your first experience. I would ESPECIALLY not recommend that you make the "Dualshock Edition" your first playthrough. Everybody clowns on its replaced soundtrack, in particular the Basement theme, and the rest of the music is about as dissonant. It has little to offer beyond that. So, really, just stick to the original PS1 release if you want to play it absolutely safe.

Among all the choice, some people would also tell you to just play the RE1 Remake instead. But I don't believe that the remake outright replaces the original. The remake is a different type of experience, with a set of mechanics that makes you adapt a different mentality on how to play. By comparison, the original feels faster, simpler, more arcadey. It's its own game, and there's no need to invalidate its existence when both can co-exist and attract different types of players. In my case, I somehow actually prefer the original over the remake, due to its simplicity. As a whole, I fully recommend it for anyone who's willing to sink a little bit of time into learning how it works. If you're willing to go out of order though, RE2 original is a much more refined take on what this game's doing. Otherwise, if you can't put up with any of the jank that came with these older games, start playing from the easily accessible Resident Evil 7 and onward, then see if you can work your way into the other titles from there.