TheMaxine
2003
When I was around 9 years old, the website I played this on tried to desperately warn me by saying I needed "nerves of steel" for this game. I didn't know what those words meant. 2 minutes later, shit made me freeze up so bad that it felt like brain paralysis. The first episode of Strong Bad's Cool Game for Attractive People was downloading in the background. My family was in the other room, blissfully unaware of what I just stumbled into. And there I was, absolutely frozen in my chair. Presumably, taking a mental note that I should probably be more careful of the internet from there on out. I proceeded to do some research on screamers, memorized how a couple of them looked, and vowed to never be tricked into seeing them ever again.
A couple months later, my friend put headphones on me and started playing that car coffee commercial. I jumped out of the chair before the jumpscare even happened, knowing full well what this was. My research... paid off in the end.
I haven't just mastered you, you fucking piece of shit of a browser game. I've mastered how to dodge them all.
A couple months later, my friend put headphones on me and started playing that car coffee commercial. I jumped out of the chair before the jumpscare even happened, knowing full well what this was. My research... paid off in the end.
I haven't just mastered you, you fucking piece of shit of a browser game. I've mastered how to dodge them all.
All 5 of the Dragon Quests I've played so far have two major goals in mind with each entry. One is to expand the scope of the world, the other is to introduce further mechanical combat depth while still being firmly rooted in its cozy, simple to pick up gameplay. DQ5 succeeds in both, with a whopping runtime of 35-40 hours, the longest it's been yet. I knew not to expect huge changes, this isn't Final Fantasy. "Dragon Quest, but bigger" is up my alley as long as there's a good diversity of content, and this one makes good use of the SNES to bring a larger variety of places and events that should keep you engaged.
It's just a shame that the series is so heavily focused around scale and combat depth, but five entries in and it's still heavily neglecting quality of life improvements. Don't get me wrong, there are some fixes here! You can actually see the stat differences on armor/weapons while browsing shops, your party finally auto-targets enemies that are alive instead of trying to hit ones that are already dead, there's a dedicated button to talking to NPC's instead of having to use the command menu, medals don't take up inventory space, and the Tactics system is back as an option, instead of something that you're forced to use.
The problem is that Dragon Quest has been drip feeding its QoL from day one, and after playing 5 of these suckers, you really find yourself thinking they could've used that extra year of development time to address some of other bigger inconveniences that really should've been fixed by at least DQ4. The survival horror inventory, the encounter rates, the sluggish movement, inability to buy stuff in bulk, consumables not stacking, the repetitive town music, it's all still a problem here. The developers have used the SNES to deliver a greater sense of scale, but the overall systems and presentation still have the antiquation of an NES RPG.
Because of this, I've found myself getting more annoyed with this Dragon Quest than either DQ3 or DQ4. I'm by no means getting tired of the formula, which is as pleasant as ever. But I am getting weary of the lack of convenience that could elevate this formula even higher. It'd be nice to have less reasons to rely on the fast forward button, y'know? My time is limited too, and though I'm willing to give an RPG much more patience to prove itself than other genres, there are limits if my character's gonna spend these 40 hours walking at just above a snail's pace.
With that out of the way, it's not all doom and gloom with this game. The story is the strongest it's been yet. The generational structure, combined with the looming threat that approaches ever sooner, gives the game some very strong and impactful moments as time becomes out of your control. It also likes to play around with the conventions of RPG storytelling much like DQ4 did with the merchant chapter. Placing you in the shoes of someone else but the hero, and doing a couple fun things with it, almost bordering on meta.
My only gripe is that the main villain does not come anywhere close to the impact of those individual moments, and was so generically evil, that a week later and I don't remember who they were, what was their name, or what they looked like. Which ultimately, causes the finale of the game to fall flatter than the rest of it, like it's yet another Dragon Quest final boss, with yet another two phases, and one more "How can this be...!" speech on top of the pile.
The game also introduces a monster recruitment system, a prototype Pokemon of sorts. This is where the increase of combat depth comes from in this one, as certain important spells can only be obtained via these monsters, and there is no guarantee you'll get them. After all, recruiting monsters isn't something you can control, it's a random event that may happen at the end of every battle. What makes this more confounding is that only certain monsters can be recruited, and if you're not using an online guide, you won't be able to tell which. Let alone the fact that some of these monsters have a mere 1/4 chance to be caught, but some of them can be a 1/64, or even 1/256, necessitating the use of very heavy grinding if you really want them all. But I wouldn't recommend it. Something I've quickly learned about DQ5, is that it's a much better game if you just let luck take its course, and see what sort of recruits you accidentally stumble upon, instead of trying to gain the system to catch'em all. I'm sure the point was that on subsequent playthroughs, you could get some monsters that you didn't get before. Some of them, people have never seen in their life, but perhaps you might be the one who did... and that's the appeal.
Another reason to not grind for recruits, is because you eventually find out that certain 1/4 recruits are extremely competent at their jobs, more than enough to beat the game and its secret optional boss. The game is always balanced around giving you the right recruits for the right sequences, while the rarer stuff is just something for insane, or very lucky people to get. Unfortunately, while RPG's are generally about just choosing the one thing that works for you the most, I do wish I was incentivized to switch my monsters around more. Some of the recruits completely paled in comparison to the one that I warmed up to using for the rest of the journey, the Golem. An absolute beast of a tank, that had better stat growths, defense, and attack power than any other recruit I received, yet through its 1/4 chance of recruitment, was very easy to obtain.
And I mean, it's cool at first, but it makes you retrospectively look at the entire recruitment system and realize just how uneven so much of it is, with so many recruits that you're gonna try out for an hour and then switch back to the Golem every single time. There are many mediocre recruits. And there are only two or three really good ones. As for the rest, prepare to grind for hours if you ever wanna see them, but why do that if Golem exists? Personally, if there was a better system implemented that didn't require on just pure RNG chance, and allowed me to have better control over how I recruited monsters, DQ5 wouldn't have needed to run into the problem of having to compromise its own system by just giving you the best shit through the lowest possible amount of effort.
This review has been kinda all over the place, which is exactly how I view DQ5. A game that shot for some really big things, a game that I'm pretty sure I enjoyed throughout most of my runtime, but I kept asking "Man, wouldn't it better if they did it like this?" Outdated design just comes with the territory when you're playing an early SNES RPG, but when you make your world way more huge and sprawling, you can't just leave your NES jank as is, you gotta speed it up to accommodate this kind of scope. I don't think I'm gonna touch the original version of this game again, however, I get the strong feeling that all of my gripes will be addressed by the time I get to the DQ5 remakes. It is then that my praise for the story and the monster recruitment system is likely gonna outweigh my amount of complaints.
It's just a shame that the series is so heavily focused around scale and combat depth, but five entries in and it's still heavily neglecting quality of life improvements. Don't get me wrong, there are some fixes here! You can actually see the stat differences on armor/weapons while browsing shops, your party finally auto-targets enemies that are alive instead of trying to hit ones that are already dead, there's a dedicated button to talking to NPC's instead of having to use the command menu, medals don't take up inventory space, and the Tactics system is back as an option, instead of something that you're forced to use.
The problem is that Dragon Quest has been drip feeding its QoL from day one, and after playing 5 of these suckers, you really find yourself thinking they could've used that extra year of development time to address some of other bigger inconveniences that really should've been fixed by at least DQ4. The survival horror inventory, the encounter rates, the sluggish movement, inability to buy stuff in bulk, consumables not stacking, the repetitive town music, it's all still a problem here. The developers have used the SNES to deliver a greater sense of scale, but the overall systems and presentation still have the antiquation of an NES RPG.
Because of this, I've found myself getting more annoyed with this Dragon Quest than either DQ3 or DQ4. I'm by no means getting tired of the formula, which is as pleasant as ever. But I am getting weary of the lack of convenience that could elevate this formula even higher. It'd be nice to have less reasons to rely on the fast forward button, y'know? My time is limited too, and though I'm willing to give an RPG much more patience to prove itself than other genres, there are limits if my character's gonna spend these 40 hours walking at just above a snail's pace.
With that out of the way, it's not all doom and gloom with this game. The story is the strongest it's been yet. The generational structure, combined with the looming threat that approaches ever sooner, gives the game some very strong and impactful moments as time becomes out of your control. It also likes to play around with the conventions of RPG storytelling much like DQ4 did with the merchant chapter. Placing you in the shoes of someone else but the hero, and doing a couple fun things with it, almost bordering on meta.
My only gripe is that the main villain does not come anywhere close to the impact of those individual moments, and was so generically evil, that a week later and I don't remember who they were, what was their name, or what they looked like. Which ultimately, causes the finale of the game to fall flatter than the rest of it, like it's yet another Dragon Quest final boss, with yet another two phases, and one more "How can this be...!" speech on top of the pile.
The game also introduces a monster recruitment system, a prototype Pokemon of sorts. This is where the increase of combat depth comes from in this one, as certain important spells can only be obtained via these monsters, and there is no guarantee you'll get them. After all, recruiting monsters isn't something you can control, it's a random event that may happen at the end of every battle. What makes this more confounding is that only certain monsters can be recruited, and if you're not using an online guide, you won't be able to tell which. Let alone the fact that some of these monsters have a mere 1/4 chance to be caught, but some of them can be a 1/64, or even 1/256, necessitating the use of very heavy grinding if you really want them all. But I wouldn't recommend it. Something I've quickly learned about DQ5, is that it's a much better game if you just let luck take its course, and see what sort of recruits you accidentally stumble upon, instead of trying to gain the system to catch'em all. I'm sure the point was that on subsequent playthroughs, you could get some monsters that you didn't get before. Some of them, people have never seen in their life, but perhaps you might be the one who did... and that's the appeal.
Another reason to not grind for recruits, is because you eventually find out that certain 1/4 recruits are extremely competent at their jobs, more than enough to beat the game and its secret optional boss. The game is always balanced around giving you the right recruits for the right sequences, while the rarer stuff is just something for insane, or very lucky people to get. Unfortunately, while RPG's are generally about just choosing the one thing that works for you the most, I do wish I was incentivized to switch my monsters around more. Some of the recruits completely paled in comparison to the one that I warmed up to using for the rest of the journey, the Golem. An absolute beast of a tank, that had better stat growths, defense, and attack power than any other recruit I received, yet through its 1/4 chance of recruitment, was very easy to obtain.
And I mean, it's cool at first, but it makes you retrospectively look at the entire recruitment system and realize just how uneven so much of it is, with so many recruits that you're gonna try out for an hour and then switch back to the Golem every single time. There are many mediocre recruits. And there are only two or three really good ones. As for the rest, prepare to grind for hours if you ever wanna see them, but why do that if Golem exists? Personally, if there was a better system implemented that didn't require on just pure RNG chance, and allowed me to have better control over how I recruited monsters, DQ5 wouldn't have needed to run into the problem of having to compromise its own system by just giving you the best shit through the lowest possible amount of effort.
This review has been kinda all over the place, which is exactly how I view DQ5. A game that shot for some really big things, a game that I'm pretty sure I enjoyed throughout most of my runtime, but I kept asking "Man, wouldn't it better if they did it like this?" Outdated design just comes with the territory when you're playing an early SNES RPG, but when you make your world way more huge and sprawling, you can't just leave your NES jank as is, you gotta speed it up to accommodate this kind of scope. I don't think I'm gonna touch the original version of this game again, however, I get the strong feeling that all of my gripes will be addressed by the time I get to the DQ5 remakes. It is then that my praise for the story and the monster recruitment system is likely gonna outweigh my amount of complaints.
1994
I've played the Donkey Kong Country trilogy many, many times in my life, and there was always this subtle roughness to the first entry that I can't quite put my finger on. But once you touch DKC2, you'll probably pick up on what I mean. There's a feeling of Rare still working out the kinks of having to create a pre-rendered look that also plays on-par with something like Mario. It was far from an easy task, and their first attempt is a commendable effort, albeit one that I am only able to engage with on a casual level.
I only felt like 100%ing DKC1 once, so that includes finding all the secret rooms. Many of them are repeats of each other, and the rewards aren't super enticing. Those golden animal statues in particular are not even rewards so much as obstacles to me, as the way they work, they'll give you 3-4 extra lifes in exchange for potentially erasing the progress you had on your level. Not an amazing trade-off, given that DKC1 has lifes in many many other, more convenient places.
The game also firmly teaches you an important Donkey Kong lesson, which is to never trust Cranky Kong. He boasts about how he can beat the game under an hour and without dying, and you're free to take on that challenge, but his dialogue will not update to acknowledge your achievement. He also brags about finding everything in the game. Your reward for doing the same is a slightly different bit of dialog from him. Really, 100%ing the game in any capacity is just not worth it, because you'd only be doing it to get approval from some douchebag in a rocking chair. If he existed in real life, he'd likely hold some very questionable political opinions, and I would go on record to say that I wouldn't find all the bonus rooms for someone with questionable political opinions.
Speaking of challenges, one that I unintentionally do everytime I play this game is the "Diddy only" challenge. Because when you compare how Donkey Kong and Diddy Kong play, you subconsciously realize that there is almost never any reason to intentionally play as Donkey Kong, when Diddy is smaller, more agile, and just less awkward to use as a whole. Ironically, despite DK's name being in the title, it's somehow a more major punishment to lose Diddy and have to play as DK than it is to lose an extra life. I dunno how that works, man.
Okay, but I'm just getting the negatives out of the way upfront because I also think that this game IS fun enough, when you stop caring about completionism and just run like hell through it. Chances are, you won't even register that the secret rooms count as part of the 100% requirements, until you're staring at the credits and figuring out what'd you miss. You've probably been charging through the levels, having a good - if not slightly jank - time, and you've thought to yourself "man, this is flying by quick. am i rushing this?" And you shouldn't feel uneasy for doing so, because the secrets almost feel like they're dragging you down. Rushing DKC1 is just the most natural way to play it. It is the game's normal pace. The popcorn of the DKC trilogy.
At least the popcorn comes with a solid David Wise soundtrack. And hey, I still like the visuals! Naturally, they hold up a lot better on a blurry CRT monitor, where you can't make out every pixel that composes the graphics. Finding a good filter might be worth your time.
Playing DKC1 is worth your time too, but only with expectations dialed back. Rare is learning the ropes here. And much like the kongs who climb the ropes, Rare will do the same in the sequel.
I only felt like 100%ing DKC1 once, so that includes finding all the secret rooms. Many of them are repeats of each other, and the rewards aren't super enticing. Those golden animal statues in particular are not even rewards so much as obstacles to me, as the way they work, they'll give you 3-4 extra lifes in exchange for potentially erasing the progress you had on your level. Not an amazing trade-off, given that DKC1 has lifes in many many other, more convenient places.
The game also firmly teaches you an important Donkey Kong lesson, which is to never trust Cranky Kong. He boasts about how he can beat the game under an hour and without dying, and you're free to take on that challenge, but his dialogue will not update to acknowledge your achievement. He also brags about finding everything in the game. Your reward for doing the same is a slightly different bit of dialog from him. Really, 100%ing the game in any capacity is just not worth it, because you'd only be doing it to get approval from some douchebag in a rocking chair. If he existed in real life, he'd likely hold some very questionable political opinions, and I would go on record to say that I wouldn't find all the bonus rooms for someone with questionable political opinions.
Speaking of challenges, one that I unintentionally do everytime I play this game is the "Diddy only" challenge. Because when you compare how Donkey Kong and Diddy Kong play, you subconsciously realize that there is almost never any reason to intentionally play as Donkey Kong, when Diddy is smaller, more agile, and just less awkward to use as a whole. Ironically, despite DK's name being in the title, it's somehow a more major punishment to lose Diddy and have to play as DK than it is to lose an extra life. I dunno how that works, man.
Okay, but I'm just getting the negatives out of the way upfront because I also think that this game IS fun enough, when you stop caring about completionism and just run like hell through it. Chances are, you won't even register that the secret rooms count as part of the 100% requirements, until you're staring at the credits and figuring out what'd you miss. You've probably been charging through the levels, having a good - if not slightly jank - time, and you've thought to yourself "man, this is flying by quick. am i rushing this?" And you shouldn't feel uneasy for doing so, because the secrets almost feel like they're dragging you down. Rushing DKC1 is just the most natural way to play it. It is the game's normal pace. The popcorn of the DKC trilogy.
At least the popcorn comes with a solid David Wise soundtrack. And hey, I still like the visuals! Naturally, they hold up a lot better on a blurry CRT monitor, where you can't make out every pixel that composes the graphics. Finding a good filter might be worth your time.
Playing DKC1 is worth your time too, but only with expectations dialed back. Rare is learning the ropes here. And much like the kongs who climb the ropes, Rare will do the same in the sequel.
2023
Sonic Superstars is like if Sonic 4 was given the polish and refinement it needed, but was just as creatively blank. Now, when you move and jump around, you can go to yourself "Oh yeah, this feels right." But once I got used to that, I was left with a perfectly servicable platformer that I don't think I'm going to remember a week from now.
it's weird, because when you compare the two, Sonic Mania has far worse problems with originality than Superstars does. At least Superstars's zones are all technically original, and the idea of tying a unique power to each emerald isn't a bad one either. But Mania's 4 original zones still somehow supercede everything that Superstars tries to do. I get the feeling I'm gonna need some time to think about this game, because right now, I'm not sure if I can place why have I felt absolutely no excitement playing it.
Perhaps the move away from fluid 2D spritework has miffed me. Perhaps when Sonic Team decided to abandon Mania's reliance on fan service, it turned out that it didn't have much else to offer besides chopped up fascimiles of the series's past levels, just rebranded with a new name. Perhaps it's the neat soundtrack getting consistently interrupted by Jun Senoue letting everybody know that after a whole decade, he still hasn't found more than one snare sample to use in his music.
I've no clue. Beyond some frustration with the game's later bosses, and the amount of waiting you have to do before you can attack them, I can't say I felt much playing it. I'm not even sure why I played it. I've been waiting years for Sonic to become this amazing franchise, to live up to the potential that I always hoped it would live up to, when all it seems to settle for these days is being "good enough." Where every title is deemed "a step in the right direction." But I don't want to be taking steps in the right direction anymore. I want to BE in the right direction. And I want to sit down, and remain there. Yet, I keep walking...
it's weird, because when you compare the two, Sonic Mania has far worse problems with originality than Superstars does. At least Superstars's zones are all technically original, and the idea of tying a unique power to each emerald isn't a bad one either. But Mania's 4 original zones still somehow supercede everything that Superstars tries to do. I get the feeling I'm gonna need some time to think about this game, because right now, I'm not sure if I can place why have I felt absolutely no excitement playing it.
Perhaps the move away from fluid 2D spritework has miffed me. Perhaps when Sonic Team decided to abandon Mania's reliance on fan service, it turned out that it didn't have much else to offer besides chopped up fascimiles of the series's past levels, just rebranded with a new name. Perhaps it's the neat soundtrack getting consistently interrupted by Jun Senoue letting everybody know that after a whole decade, he still hasn't found more than one snare sample to use in his music.
I've no clue. Beyond some frustration with the game's later bosses, and the amount of waiting you have to do before you can attack them, I can't say I felt much playing it. I'm not even sure why I played it. I've been waiting years for Sonic to become this amazing franchise, to live up to the potential that I always hoped it would live up to, when all it seems to settle for these days is being "good enough." Where every title is deemed "a step in the right direction." But I don't want to be taking steps in the right direction anymore. I want to BE in the right direction. And I want to sit down, and remain there. Yet, I keep walking...
(Used a romhack to revert difficulty back to the japanese original)
Wicked Phenomenon is a sequel to the 1991 "Exile." And color me impressed, because they somehow managed to make it worse than the first game in nearly every way. It's even shorter (took me nearly 2 hours instead of the first game's 3), even more underdeveloped, more forgettable, and significantly more unpolished. I remember saying "That's it?" when the first game's credits rolled. With this one, I exclaimed the same question, but with much greater exasperation.
The main goal of Wicked Phenomenon is to make use of an opportunity it squandered before. If you've played the first Exile, you may recall that you get all these party members that aren't actually playable, or do a single useful thing in the story, which led me to believe that the game was rushed. Now, you're able to switch between four playable characters (and a 5th one after you make some progress), and each one has some degree of a unique attack move.
Your main character, Sadler, and the 5th playable character has a sword with decent reach. Rumi is a projectile-wielder with long range, Kindi has a short range fist attack that's slow but more powerful, and Fakhyle is a mage that throws slower homing projectiles. Rumi has her moments here and there, but Kindi and Fakhyle are still useless. Kindi's short range attacks are not a worthwhile tradeoff, and Fakhyle's homing projectiles have a mind of their own, rarely targeting that which I wanted and their slowness can cause battles to stall. There is nothing to incentivize you to switch between characters anyway, no moment where you think "Ah-ha, this character will be useful for this part!"
Either way, no amount of characters will save this gameplay, the combat for which I cannot describe in any better way than "It's fucking wretched." The first thing you'll notice is the camera only scrolling if you push against the edge of the screen, rather than keeping your character in the center at all times. This WILL lead to frequent cheap shots, enemies coming out of nowhere and projectiles that you cannot possibly react to, unless you like playing your games by slowly inching forward.
The second thing you'll notice is the questionable enemy hitboxes, with no consistency behind them. Some enemies will deal damage to you even if you're 100% sure that you're not touching them. There are projectiles that you're certain you could duck under, but they'll deal damage to you anyway even as they pass right above you. Special shoutouts to the fire-breathing dragon enemy, with a hitbox that seemingly switched on and off for no discernable reason, and couldn't even be avoided, so it was most often just free damage to myself.
Enemies are also likely to overwhelm you as early as the first or second stage, with erratic movements that require ridiculously fast reflexes. And bear in mind, I'm playing with the difficulty-decreasing romhack, right? And it still fucking sucks! I shudder to think how would this go if I stuck with the regular western version, as Wicked Phenomenon is also known as the game that Working Designs REALLY fucked up, with enemy stats cranked up so high that just about anything is liable to kill you in 3 hits or less. And then you take into account that the game itseIf is just plain broken at times, I can't imagine 90% of people being able to beat the US version, even if 90% people knew about its existence. Everything here feels bad.
I didn't even mention that talking to NPC's sometimes just glitches the fuck out of the game, causing the text box to break and display garbage data as you start pushing the NPC forward in eternity. The only reason this wasn't a major inconvenience is because I had the rewind button, but without it, all I would have to do is restart. It's difficult to say if this is a problem with the romhack or not though, so this point might be left up to subjectivity.
Those were just my gripes with the gameplay, but I'd also like to like to briefly touch on the story. The first Exile's story had promise. Despite being ultimately underdeveloped, the overall idea was that you're interfering in somebody else's war, aiding a mysterious man who you're not sure can be trusted. Will your efforts mean anything, or will they only fuel the flames of war even further? You're never sure if what you're doing is the right thing, and that gives the story enough complexity and thought that you could do something with that.
The sequel in comparison, has nothing even remotely as interesting. It is a black 'n white, stripped down version of what came before. As simple as "Use the power of friendship to stop the bad guy," down to the game itself using the "power of friendship" line word for word. When I was hoping that the sequel would expand on the lore of Exile, it merely made things more basic.
Sadler, the protagonist, is supposed to be an assassin. I have come to the realization that the game does not treat this like a profession. It is a title. A title for a hero. He does not assassinate humans for a price. He assassinates evil monsters from the goodwill of his heart. Perhaps this is all he ever was, and if that's really true, then perhaps I assumed too much when I thought Exile had promise. I was hoping for a world in which nothing is right or wrong, but Wicked Phenomenon chose the boring route in order to tell yet another story of a hero prevailing. It challenges nothing. It makes you think nothing. And then the franchise never got another entry after this one. What I described in the review, is the most likely reason why.
Ironically, the Working Designs cover art for this game may have been the most interesting part of it.
Wicked Phenomenon is a sequel to the 1991 "Exile." And color me impressed, because they somehow managed to make it worse than the first game in nearly every way. It's even shorter (took me nearly 2 hours instead of the first game's 3), even more underdeveloped, more forgettable, and significantly more unpolished. I remember saying "That's it?" when the first game's credits rolled. With this one, I exclaimed the same question, but with much greater exasperation.
The main goal of Wicked Phenomenon is to make use of an opportunity it squandered before. If you've played the first Exile, you may recall that you get all these party members that aren't actually playable, or do a single useful thing in the story, which led me to believe that the game was rushed. Now, you're able to switch between four playable characters (and a 5th one after you make some progress), and each one has some degree of a unique attack move.
Your main character, Sadler, and the 5th playable character has a sword with decent reach. Rumi is a projectile-wielder with long range, Kindi has a short range fist attack that's slow but more powerful, and Fakhyle is a mage that throws slower homing projectiles. Rumi has her moments here and there, but Kindi and Fakhyle are still useless. Kindi's short range attacks are not a worthwhile tradeoff, and Fakhyle's homing projectiles have a mind of their own, rarely targeting that which I wanted and their slowness can cause battles to stall. There is nothing to incentivize you to switch between characters anyway, no moment where you think "Ah-ha, this character will be useful for this part!"
Either way, no amount of characters will save this gameplay, the combat for which I cannot describe in any better way than "It's fucking wretched." The first thing you'll notice is the camera only scrolling if you push against the edge of the screen, rather than keeping your character in the center at all times. This WILL lead to frequent cheap shots, enemies coming out of nowhere and projectiles that you cannot possibly react to, unless you like playing your games by slowly inching forward.
The second thing you'll notice is the questionable enemy hitboxes, with no consistency behind them. Some enemies will deal damage to you even if you're 100% sure that you're not touching them. There are projectiles that you're certain you could duck under, but they'll deal damage to you anyway even as they pass right above you. Special shoutouts to the fire-breathing dragon enemy, with a hitbox that seemingly switched on and off for no discernable reason, and couldn't even be avoided, so it was most often just free damage to myself.
Enemies are also likely to overwhelm you as early as the first or second stage, with erratic movements that require ridiculously fast reflexes. And bear in mind, I'm playing with the difficulty-decreasing romhack, right? And it still fucking sucks! I shudder to think how would this go if I stuck with the regular western version, as Wicked Phenomenon is also known as the game that Working Designs REALLY fucked up, with enemy stats cranked up so high that just about anything is liable to kill you in 3 hits or less. And then you take into account that the game itseIf is just plain broken at times, I can't imagine 90% of people being able to beat the US version, even if 90% people knew about its existence. Everything here feels bad.
I didn't even mention that talking to NPC's sometimes just glitches the fuck out of the game, causing the text box to break and display garbage data as you start pushing the NPC forward in eternity. The only reason this wasn't a major inconvenience is because I had the rewind button, but without it, all I would have to do is restart. It's difficult to say if this is a problem with the romhack or not though, so this point might be left up to subjectivity.
Those were just my gripes with the gameplay, but I'd also like to like to briefly touch on the story. The first Exile's story had promise. Despite being ultimately underdeveloped, the overall idea was that you're interfering in somebody else's war, aiding a mysterious man who you're not sure can be trusted. Will your efforts mean anything, or will they only fuel the flames of war even further? You're never sure if what you're doing is the right thing, and that gives the story enough complexity and thought that you could do something with that.
The sequel in comparison, has nothing even remotely as interesting. It is a black 'n white, stripped down version of what came before. As simple as "Use the power of friendship to stop the bad guy," down to the game itself using the "power of friendship" line word for word. When I was hoping that the sequel would expand on the lore of Exile, it merely made things more basic.
Sadler, the protagonist, is supposed to be an assassin. I have come to the realization that the game does not treat this like a profession. It is a title. A title for a hero. He does not assassinate humans for a price. He assassinates evil monsters from the goodwill of his heart. Perhaps this is all he ever was, and if that's really true, then perhaps I assumed too much when I thought Exile had promise. I was hoping for a world in which nothing is right or wrong, but Wicked Phenomenon chose the boring route in order to tell yet another story of a hero prevailing. It challenges nothing. It makes you think nothing. And then the franchise never got another entry after this one. What I described in the review, is the most likely reason why.
Ironically, the Working Designs cover art for this game may have been the most interesting part of it.
For what it's worth, it's not a bad remake of the first three Mega Man's. Slightly different in terms of feel, but accurate enough that I don't think you'll feel that something's off. Where I think Wily Wars falters is the necessity of its entire existence in today's age. Back in the 90's, if you didn't own an NES and wanted a way to play Mega Man on the Genesis? Sure, this'll more than fill that sweet spot.
But let's say it's 2023, and you now have access to the NES, Genesis, and all the other classic consoles at the same time. Is... Wily Wars worth playing at that point? And I personally don't think that it is, other than once for the sake of a fan's curiosity. Sure, Mega Man 1's difficulty has been slightly adjusted to be more fair, and there's a new campaign you can play, but none of this is enough to stop me from thinking that Wily Wars could've been a lot better than it turned out to be.
I mean, it's a generational leap. We've gone from 8-bit to 16-bit, and we are now more than 4 years into that period as of 1994. Yet, the remakes of Mega Man 1-3 feel like a 1990 launch title, seemingly content with doing the bare minimum of work to touch up the game. Mega Man himself looks good, but the environments still feel like something out of an NES title. Color choices feel washed out. None of this harms the game too hard admittingly, but then there's the converted music, which took the biggest hit of them all. I dunno how you feel about Genesis twang, but there's something about it here that lessens the energy of the music, losing what I thought made the 8-bit chiptunes special.
I get the feeling that the development team had only a year - maybe a few months less - to make this entire compilation. And that lack of time (and perhaps even experience with the system, seeing as they've been making Gameboy titles up until now) results in a remake that I can't help but feel could've been a lot more ambitious in order to show how far we've come since the older days.
As for the new unlockable campaign, it's... also just okay. I commend it for its unique idea of giving you every weapon from Mega Man 1-3, and letting you select your personal favorites for the stages you complete. This is a concept that needs to come back on a much larger scale. But, for now, it rests only within Wily Wars, a campaign with 3 levels and a Wily Fortress which I do not remember a single thing about, other than the fact it reuses assets and enemies from the remakes, alongside a strange and unfitting soundtrack that's too on the cheery side for what I'm used to with this series.
I come out of Wily Wars a plain person. With little of an impression to go on, only an imagination remains of what could've they done to make this remake better. It's not even about making it the "definitive version," because what's on offer plays just fine. It's about making it the unique one. Something that stands on its own ground. Right now, Wily Wars merely exists, neither better nor worse. The NES titles exist too. And those came first, which means that they get my dibs on what I'd rather play.
But let's say it's 2023, and you now have access to the NES, Genesis, and all the other classic consoles at the same time. Is... Wily Wars worth playing at that point? And I personally don't think that it is, other than once for the sake of a fan's curiosity. Sure, Mega Man 1's difficulty has been slightly adjusted to be more fair, and there's a new campaign you can play, but none of this is enough to stop me from thinking that Wily Wars could've been a lot better than it turned out to be.
I mean, it's a generational leap. We've gone from 8-bit to 16-bit, and we are now more than 4 years into that period as of 1994. Yet, the remakes of Mega Man 1-3 feel like a 1990 launch title, seemingly content with doing the bare minimum of work to touch up the game. Mega Man himself looks good, but the environments still feel like something out of an NES title. Color choices feel washed out. None of this harms the game too hard admittingly, but then there's the converted music, which took the biggest hit of them all. I dunno how you feel about Genesis twang, but there's something about it here that lessens the energy of the music, losing what I thought made the 8-bit chiptunes special.
I get the feeling that the development team had only a year - maybe a few months less - to make this entire compilation. And that lack of time (and perhaps even experience with the system, seeing as they've been making Gameboy titles up until now) results in a remake that I can't help but feel could've been a lot more ambitious in order to show how far we've come since the older days.
As for the new unlockable campaign, it's... also just okay. I commend it for its unique idea of giving you every weapon from Mega Man 1-3, and letting you select your personal favorites for the stages you complete. This is a concept that needs to come back on a much larger scale. But, for now, it rests only within Wily Wars, a campaign with 3 levels and a Wily Fortress which I do not remember a single thing about, other than the fact it reuses assets and enemies from the remakes, alongside a strange and unfitting soundtrack that's too on the cheery side for what I'm used to with this series.
I come out of Wily Wars a plain person. With little of an impression to go on, only an imagination remains of what could've they done to make this remake better. It's not even about making it the "definitive version," because what's on offer plays just fine. It's about making it the unique one. Something that stands on its own ground. Right now, Wily Wars merely exists, neither better nor worse. The NES titles exist too. And those came first, which means that they get my dibs on what I'd rather play.
1994
EarthBound may be the winner of the "best game with the worst first impression" award. Getting into this one took at least 4 separate attempts for me. The first 3-4 hours of the game involve you traveling as Ness, all by yourself, with no party members. And I'll be frank, the game was simply not designed for this. Enemies have just as much of a chance to crit shot you as you do them, along with dealing devastating status effects which you have no defense against other than your luck and your ability to trek back to the nearest hospital. You are likely to die, and it is likely to be completely out of your control, even with prep.
Adding to that, you also have to deal with a pitifully low amount of inventory space at first, further compounded by necessary quest items that don't feel like they should be taking up an inventory slot at all. Why does the map have to take one? Along with your ATM Card, and the Sound Stone? That's three inventory slots (maybe two, if you can live without the map) right there that are already hogged for the rest of the game by these things. Is the bike supposed to be a joke item, or an inconsidered waste of space and time? There's a lot going against EarthBound at first... I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to drop it.
Okay, but here's the thing. Push through. Genuinely, sincerely push through if you enjoy classic RPG experiences. Because as soon as you get your second party member and level them up a bit, the meta changes. Now, you've got a mage on your team, an additional set of inventory slots, and a bit more defense and protection against incoming threats. And suddenly, the game actually becomes managable and fun. Well, in bursts.
EarthBound is all over the place like that, like an uneven stock market graph with a line swaying up and down, where you're likely to see the calm after the ensuing difficulty storm. You will have just as many moments where you're in total control of the game, as much as the game will have its moments with you, bringing you down to earth level with bosses that will kick your ass. Although it gets easier over time, there's always that element of a dice roll, where sometimes, you'll just want to depend on those critical hits doing the job for you, but things might not turn out the way you want them to. And if that's not your cup of tea, that's understandable. But I think of it this way. Even if I may not win this time, the luck element does mean that I'm much more likely to win it the next. In contrast to the initial few hours, the rest of the game is about not giving up.
And the theme of "not giving up" is not only examplified through its design mentality, but through its simple and pure story. You are a courageous ragtag team of kids, off on an adventure to save the world. Do not expect the plot to get any more complex than that. What really matters is the usage of RPG gameplay elements and interweaving them into the story of the game, all to tell you just two things: You're getting ever stronger, and ever further away from home.
You'll find yourself counting each landmark you discover, each city or village you stumble into, until the time comes when the game will directly ask you to look back on everything that's gotten you this far. A trip down reminiscing lane. And that's when it'll hit you that this is a story of determination, perseverance. The power of courage, and friendship, and all that shit. Which would normally be a cause to roll my eyes, but EarthBound never uses this as a way to dramatize things and make the story bigger than what it seems. It's almost like a charming children's book, where rather than going on big anime monologues about your friends being your power, it just simply asks you, the player, personally, to never give up. And by leaving it at that, there's something incredibly earnest and sincere about it.
Still, if that's really all that there is to the story, then where is the draw to push through 20 hours of that? The writing is the answer. It's already been said many times that EarthBound had a really damn solid localization for its time, and it holds up just as well today. The NPC's are fuckin' weird in this one, and you'll want to find yourself talking to every single one of them not just for the sake of hints, but just to... take in their oddities and quirks. Take a shot everytime one of them says "Oops!"
EarthBound's writing makes a whole lot of something out of practically nothing by prioritizing surrealism and personality on all counts. Normally, a writer's job would be to make himself sound like multiple differing characters, but in the case of this, every character sounds like one writer. One writer's rambling thoughts, thrown into hundreds of text boxes with reckless abandon, like I'm peering into his very mind. As a result, nothing here feels "real." This is not someone's world made reality, it is a look inside the machinations of Mr. Itoi. And that's what truly makes the game special, once you make sure to roll with that.
Also, a brief shoutout to the final boss, which for its time, was an unbelievable thing to put into your SNES game for kids to play, let alone to see that localized overseas. Sometimes, I see EarthBound as one giant buildup to that single moment. And in a way, I think it further cements its total sincerity of the game's theming. Even though the whole point is to cheer you on and show you the good side of life, it doesn't ignore the fact that there are terrifying things out there.
Summing it up: EarthBound is a simple RPG, coupled with a simple story. Never does that simplicity equal mindlessness. It is a charmingly written game where progression and evolution of your strength and experiences means everything. If you love your numbers going up, and as long as you don't set your expectations to "One of the greatest RPG's ever made", I think you'll warm up to what it's doing and appreciate how straightforward it wants to be. As mentioned, the first couple hours will be rough. Everything else beyond that, will be a pleasant treat, and an adventure to remember.
Adding to that, you also have to deal with a pitifully low amount of inventory space at first, further compounded by necessary quest items that don't feel like they should be taking up an inventory slot at all. Why does the map have to take one? Along with your ATM Card, and the Sound Stone? That's three inventory slots (maybe two, if you can live without the map) right there that are already hogged for the rest of the game by these things. Is the bike supposed to be a joke item, or an inconsidered waste of space and time? There's a lot going against EarthBound at first... I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to drop it.
Okay, but here's the thing. Push through. Genuinely, sincerely push through if you enjoy classic RPG experiences. Because as soon as you get your second party member and level them up a bit, the meta changes. Now, you've got a mage on your team, an additional set of inventory slots, and a bit more defense and protection against incoming threats. And suddenly, the game actually becomes managable and fun. Well, in bursts.
EarthBound is all over the place like that, like an uneven stock market graph with a line swaying up and down, where you're likely to see the calm after the ensuing difficulty storm. You will have just as many moments where you're in total control of the game, as much as the game will have its moments with you, bringing you down to earth level with bosses that will kick your ass. Although it gets easier over time, there's always that element of a dice roll, where sometimes, you'll just want to depend on those critical hits doing the job for you, but things might not turn out the way you want them to. And if that's not your cup of tea, that's understandable. But I think of it this way. Even if I may not win this time, the luck element does mean that I'm much more likely to win it the next. In contrast to the initial few hours, the rest of the game is about not giving up.
And the theme of "not giving up" is not only examplified through its design mentality, but through its simple and pure story. You are a courageous ragtag team of kids, off on an adventure to save the world. Do not expect the plot to get any more complex than that. What really matters is the usage of RPG gameplay elements and interweaving them into the story of the game, all to tell you just two things: You're getting ever stronger, and ever further away from home.
You'll find yourself counting each landmark you discover, each city or village you stumble into, until the time comes when the game will directly ask you to look back on everything that's gotten you this far. A trip down reminiscing lane. And that's when it'll hit you that this is a story of determination, perseverance. The power of courage, and friendship, and all that shit. Which would normally be a cause to roll my eyes, but EarthBound never uses this as a way to dramatize things and make the story bigger than what it seems. It's almost like a charming children's book, where rather than going on big anime monologues about your friends being your power, it just simply asks you, the player, personally, to never give up. And by leaving it at that, there's something incredibly earnest and sincere about it.
Still, if that's really all that there is to the story, then where is the draw to push through 20 hours of that? The writing is the answer. It's already been said many times that EarthBound had a really damn solid localization for its time, and it holds up just as well today. The NPC's are fuckin' weird in this one, and you'll want to find yourself talking to every single one of them not just for the sake of hints, but just to... take in their oddities and quirks. Take a shot everytime one of them says "Oops!"
EarthBound's writing makes a whole lot of something out of practically nothing by prioritizing surrealism and personality on all counts. Normally, a writer's job would be to make himself sound like multiple differing characters, but in the case of this, every character sounds like one writer. One writer's rambling thoughts, thrown into hundreds of text boxes with reckless abandon, like I'm peering into his very mind. As a result, nothing here feels "real." This is not someone's world made reality, it is a look inside the machinations of Mr. Itoi. And that's what truly makes the game special, once you make sure to roll with that.
Also, a brief shoutout to the final boss, which for its time, was an unbelievable thing to put into your SNES game for kids to play, let alone to see that localized overseas. Sometimes, I see EarthBound as one giant buildup to that single moment. And in a way, I think it further cements its total sincerity of the game's theming. Even though the whole point is to cheer you on and show you the good side of life, it doesn't ignore the fact that there are terrifying things out there.
Summing it up: EarthBound is a simple RPG, coupled with a simple story. Never does that simplicity equal mindlessness. It is a charmingly written game where progression and evolution of your strength and experiences means everything. If you love your numbers going up, and as long as you don't set your expectations to "One of the greatest RPG's ever made", I think you'll warm up to what it's doing and appreciate how straightforward it wants to be. As mentioned, the first couple hours will be rough. Everything else beyond that, will be a pleasant treat, and an adventure to remember.
1994
There comes a point where in your goal to push a franchise's spectacle as far as possible, you'll eventually hit an absolute limit on what you can do. Hard Corps is that limit. No other Contra game after this one managed to reach this level of insanity and creativity. They might still be fun, but they will all be aping what Hard Corps and Contra 3 already did, and did so perfectly. But, probably the most insane thing about it is that not many people talk about Hard Corps, even though this may very well be the best Contra game out there, more than the NES one, more than Contra 3.
I feel like I'm a broken machine everytime I talk about the impressiveness of a 90's Konami game made for the Genesis, but come on, you've played one or two of them, you know that you're in for some good shit with the next one. So, perhaps I could instead talk about Hard Corps introducing the choice of four playable characters, each with their own unique arsenal of weaponry? (although i'll obviously still use the guy with the spread shot, i mean, come on)
Or, how about the fact that there are now multiple routes, that lead to multiple different stages, that lead to multiple different endings? In Hard Corps, the replayability no longer just stems from practicing and mastering the same set of 6 stages. Now, there's choice, and that choice impacts the events that play out, and the obstacles you'll face. Perhaps you'll have a preferred route, or perhaps you'll want to master each individual one. The game leaves that up to you.
Still, it is Contra, and if you were ever looking for a point where Contra becomes more accessible, this ain't it. Everything's still a motherfucker to overcome, alongside your limited lifes and weakness to toe-stubs. Interestingly, I've learned that this is another one of those examples where the game was made harder over in the west. You've got three hits that you can take in the Japanese version, but you've only got one everywhere else, the classic Contra standard. Depending on what kind of player are you, seeking out a romhack that incorporates the 3-hit system may be recommended. Alternatively, a cheat code for more lifes.
And if you can't beat the game the way the western version intends, then trust me, you really do want to go out of your way to set up some cheats for yourself. Because whether you're good at Hard Corps or not, it's worth playing just so you can go "oh wow" or "oh shit!" every 10 seconds. Contra Hard Corps goes hard on every aspect. The soundtrack, the feel of the weapons, the graphics, the visual effects, the replayability... it's just so damn good that it's worth seeing no matter your skill ceiling. This, right here, is where Contra peaked, and more people need to be aware of that.
I feel like I'm a broken machine everytime I talk about the impressiveness of a 90's Konami game made for the Genesis, but come on, you've played one or two of them, you know that you're in for some good shit with the next one. So, perhaps I could instead talk about Hard Corps introducing the choice of four playable characters, each with their own unique arsenal of weaponry? (although i'll obviously still use the guy with the spread shot, i mean, come on)
Or, how about the fact that there are now multiple routes, that lead to multiple different stages, that lead to multiple different endings? In Hard Corps, the replayability no longer just stems from practicing and mastering the same set of 6 stages. Now, there's choice, and that choice impacts the events that play out, and the obstacles you'll face. Perhaps you'll have a preferred route, or perhaps you'll want to master each individual one. The game leaves that up to you.
Still, it is Contra, and if you were ever looking for a point where Contra becomes more accessible, this ain't it. Everything's still a motherfucker to overcome, alongside your limited lifes and weakness to toe-stubs. Interestingly, I've learned that this is another one of those examples where the game was made harder over in the west. You've got three hits that you can take in the Japanese version, but you've only got one everywhere else, the classic Contra standard. Depending on what kind of player are you, seeking out a romhack that incorporates the 3-hit system may be recommended. Alternatively, a cheat code for more lifes.
And if you can't beat the game the way the western version intends, then trust me, you really do want to go out of your way to set up some cheats for yourself. Because whether you're good at Hard Corps or not, it's worth playing just so you can go "oh wow" or "oh shit!" every 10 seconds. Contra Hard Corps goes hard on every aspect. The soundtrack, the feel of the weapons, the graphics, the visual effects, the replayability... it's just so damn good that it's worth seeing no matter your skill ceiling. This, right here, is where Contra peaked, and more people need to be aware of that.
1994
First things first, I'm gonna go on record and say that the japanese version of this game is the way to go. Not only did the western version double the difficulty of everything, it also... neglected to translate any of the dialogue and cutscenes from the japanese version, so it just chucks them out altogether. There's a fan translation of this version of the game, and I wholeheartedly recommend it over what the west half-heartedly gave us.
With that said, Dynamite Headdy is the type of game where even through several completed playthroughs, I'm still kinda struggling to wrap my thoughts around it. It's like a platformer, with the pacing of a run 'n gun. That is to say, it almost feels like I'm supposed to play more methodically, but the game is just blasting through its mechanics and setpieces at such a rapid-fire pace that I feel like I'm not being given time to digest any of it.
Despite this, I can't help but admire the creativity on display. Headdy leans headdily into its stage play aesthetic, far more than Mario 3 ever did. Every stage is an act of a play, filled with blatant props substituting the sky, spotlights, behind the scenes background elements, and - on a side note - the occasional ridiculously high-quality voice clip that made me double take my prior understanding of what the Genesis sound chip could handle.
This is a Treasure title, through and through. Their technical prowess, penchant for weirdness, and thrilling setpieces are all present here, and are all worth experiencing. It's just... it feels like there's a difference between me thinking "This game is really cool," versus "This game is fun to play," the latter of which I don't find myself thinking as much. It's not bad to play either, nor is it clunky. Maybe the problem is that whereas the aesthetic is very focused, the gameplay is not. There's tons of powerups, but few of them contribute towards a fun flow of movement that I normally expect out of platformers. Headdy carries no momentum, no running button, he isn't much more other than servicable to play as.
It's the kind of situation where the style of the game carries everything else. And man, if there's anything that'll win you over, it's the style. The amount of scenarios present here are all wild and crazy beyond all imagination. And yet, for all it does, there's just that one tiny thing missing that makes me wonder if the simplicity of the controls not matching up to the complexity of the level variety creates an awkward balance of design priority. In the sense that the gameplay and the variety should've been equally prioritized, but clearly, one thing took precedence, and thus Headdy winds up as "fun enough," but could it have been more fun?
Yeah, again, it's difficult for me to collect my thoughts on Headdy. I love what it's doing, I highly respect it just for being a game that the developers had complete freedom over. But it feels like it's doing too much within too little time, and I guess it makes it difficult to keep a lot of it in your memory once you're done. Perhaps that's not a bad thing, though. It just means that my next playthrough is going to still feel fresh.
With that said, Dynamite Headdy is the type of game where even through several completed playthroughs, I'm still kinda struggling to wrap my thoughts around it. It's like a platformer, with the pacing of a run 'n gun. That is to say, it almost feels like I'm supposed to play more methodically, but the game is just blasting through its mechanics and setpieces at such a rapid-fire pace that I feel like I'm not being given time to digest any of it.
Despite this, I can't help but admire the creativity on display. Headdy leans headdily into its stage play aesthetic, far more than Mario 3 ever did. Every stage is an act of a play, filled with blatant props substituting the sky, spotlights, behind the scenes background elements, and - on a side note - the occasional ridiculously high-quality voice clip that made me double take my prior understanding of what the Genesis sound chip could handle.
This is a Treasure title, through and through. Their technical prowess, penchant for weirdness, and thrilling setpieces are all present here, and are all worth experiencing. It's just... it feels like there's a difference between me thinking "This game is really cool," versus "This game is fun to play," the latter of which I don't find myself thinking as much. It's not bad to play either, nor is it clunky. Maybe the problem is that whereas the aesthetic is very focused, the gameplay is not. There's tons of powerups, but few of them contribute towards a fun flow of movement that I normally expect out of platformers. Headdy carries no momentum, no running button, he isn't much more other than servicable to play as.
It's the kind of situation where the style of the game carries everything else. And man, if there's anything that'll win you over, it's the style. The amount of scenarios present here are all wild and crazy beyond all imagination. And yet, for all it does, there's just that one tiny thing missing that makes me wonder if the simplicity of the controls not matching up to the complexity of the level variety creates an awkward balance of design priority. In the sense that the gameplay and the variety should've been equally prioritized, but clearly, one thing took precedence, and thus Headdy winds up as "fun enough," but could it have been more fun?
Yeah, again, it's difficult for me to collect my thoughts on Headdy. I love what it's doing, I highly respect it just for being a game that the developers had complete freedom over. But it feels like it's doing too much within too little time, and I guess it makes it difficult to keep a lot of it in your memory once you're done. Perhaps that's not a bad thing, though. It just means that my next playthrough is going to still feel fresh.
(Used romhack to revert difficulty to the Japanese original)
Coming into Lunar, I was filled with a sense of dread. The last game I played that was published by Working Designs was Cosmic Fantasy 2, and my review on that one is far from polite. Reading up some of the reviews on Lunar, I started to worry that this was gonna turn out pretty much like that game. Monotonous combat, a wasted storyline, and me walking out of it thanking Althena that it's finally over.
To my surprise, Lunar actually turned out to be... a little better than I expected, and felt like a palette cleanser after some of the more recent RPG's I had to put up with, Romancing SaGa haunting my dreams day and night withstanding. Is its combat complex? Oh, god no, there is an auto-battle command, and you can spam that shit to kingdom come from beginning to the very end, it is as basic as it gets. However, encounter rates are forgiving. Grinding is minimal, I only did it twice across my 20-hour run, and I'm not sure if I even needed to. The music is varied, and pleasant on the ears. The magic can be actually useful at times, whoa, now there's an incredible thing. You spend plenty of time exploring towns and getting new bits of story, and I overall think it's enough to prevent you from getting bored.
Of course, you'll need to bring your appreciation for 90's anime aesthetics with you for the "not bored" claim to really hold up, because if you aren't fond of that, then I'm afraid there's not much else left for you. Back in 1992, CD Audio is still a fancy new toy for developers to play around with, and Lunar places all its bets on making that the main charm of the game. Something I've found especially charming are the character intros. Everytime you run into an important character, a heroic jingle plays and they get some unique introductory art to go along with it. If Lunar was actually a popular game instead of a cult classic, these intros feel like something you could meme to hell and back. Put Jerma in one of these, except he gets the evil character intro theme.
The battle system uses a slight variation of the formation mechanic, in which the further a character is placed in the back row, the more turns they need to walk up to the enemy and hit them. In other words, it's not like most RPG's where the characters are swinging swords at each other from 20 feet away. It's slightly more real-time than that, where the character needs to physically walk up to the enemy and close the distance before being able to land a hit. Same goes for enemies landing physical damage on you. If a character's too far away, they'll move a little closer, but not close enough to land a hit. This was kinda interesting at first, but as usual, it is remedied by equipping back-row characters with long range weaponry and making use of magic spells. Once you figure that out, it's no different from any other RPG system.
Probably the biggest annoyance with the gameplay is the lack of creative dungeon design. Oops! All Mazes! Never was a fan of this sort of design, especially for RPG's where it becomes all the more clear that they are there just to waste your time. Throw in some break rooms, maybe some puzzle rooms where there are no battle encounters, a minigame, something that doesn't make it the one thousandth cave I've traveled through.
Lunar may also be likely to draw you in based on its writing alone. It's weird, wacky, tends to break the fourth wall... It's kinda mean-spirited at times. That's Working Designs showing their stuff right there, baby. Exile & Cosmic Fantasy had slivers of this, but it seems like Lunar was the game where they truly just up and went "fuck it, we're publishing this, it's our game now." There are pros to this... there are also problems with it that ring a little bit of ego.
Bear in mind, I'm not that much of a purist, it's fine for a localization to not be 1:1 with the original, and sometimes there are creative liberties taken that make the localization better than the original. However, it is both funny and partially infuriating to see this game's manual talking about the importance of staying faithful to the source material, before one sentence later talking about how they rewrote the opening theme song's lyrics to be less "lovey-dovey" and more "urgent", and claiming it's a change for the better. Seeing the localizer just outright contradict themselves like this, not to mention outright admitting their version is an improvement feels like it's lacking in the humble department.
Similarly, I take some concern with Working Design's claim that they had to replace various jokes to be more understandable for American audiences. And that's fine to do. I get it, some Japanese humor is too reliant on wordplays, puns, and the country's culture to be translatable. But, what's your excuse if you're inserting pop culture references into scenes that didn't have any? Legends of Localization did a short little article about one instance of the game doing this, and it's unfortunate they never did a more thorough look at one of these games, as immediately my curiosity wants to know how many more instances of this are there.
To be a localizer, you need to have the skill of a writer. A straight translation of a foreign language is unlikely to sound natural, so it's up to you to decide how to reshuffle everything and take advantage of your language's unique vocabulary in order for the script to flow naturally, while still preserving the overall intent of the original. In that sense, a localization always has some degree of opinion to it. However, taking a fantasy setting like this and essentially turning it into a parody of itself feels like steering the ship wheel a bit too far in the wrong direction. Rather than enhancing what's already there, you changed it completely and made it yours. That's where the problem arises for me.
Yes, your localization was amusing. Kinda dumb, but it did make for a more entertaining game at the end of the day, and it's possible I might've found Lunar kinda boring if it was more accurate. But I feel dirty admitting that. Because for all the genuine care and love that you poured into these publishing efforts, it's baffling that the one thing you didn't pay heed to is consistent faithfulness to the tone. The game's climatic moment, and what I've personally found to be the most memorable one, is undercut by a fourth wall break followed by a comment about spanking the villain. It's hard to say whether this was part of the original script or not, I don't speak the language so I'm not qualified to fully explore this. However, either the case is that the original script kinda ruined the mood of this scene, or the localizers did. Either way the jokes could've worked if they fit naturally, but instead they consist of dated references, and scat humor that make it blatantly clear they don't belong.
Anyway, that's probably gonna be the last time I rant about my localization woes, otherwise it's gonna get tiring. Is Lustar: The Silver Nar worth your time? Ehhh, maybe. For me, Lunar came at just the right time after a series of painfully slow and difficult RPG's. Lunar is not slow, it's not difficult, and it has some charm to it, some of it for the better and some of it not. If you ran out of popular RPG's to play and are hunting for some more obscure ones, I don't think you can go wrong with this one. Good enough for what it does, but the lack of complexity ultimately takes away any potential replayability. I'm interested in seeing how the later Lunar games hold up, including their remakes.
Coming into Lunar, I was filled with a sense of dread. The last game I played that was published by Working Designs was Cosmic Fantasy 2, and my review on that one is far from polite. Reading up some of the reviews on Lunar, I started to worry that this was gonna turn out pretty much like that game. Monotonous combat, a wasted storyline, and me walking out of it thanking Althena that it's finally over.
To my surprise, Lunar actually turned out to be... a little better than I expected, and felt like a palette cleanser after some of the more recent RPG's I had to put up with, Romancing SaGa haunting my dreams day and night withstanding. Is its combat complex? Oh, god no, there is an auto-battle command, and you can spam that shit to kingdom come from beginning to the very end, it is as basic as it gets. However, encounter rates are forgiving. Grinding is minimal, I only did it twice across my 20-hour run, and I'm not sure if I even needed to. The music is varied, and pleasant on the ears. The magic can be actually useful at times, whoa, now there's an incredible thing. You spend plenty of time exploring towns and getting new bits of story, and I overall think it's enough to prevent you from getting bored.
Of course, you'll need to bring your appreciation for 90's anime aesthetics with you for the "not bored" claim to really hold up, because if you aren't fond of that, then I'm afraid there's not much else left for you. Back in 1992, CD Audio is still a fancy new toy for developers to play around with, and Lunar places all its bets on making that the main charm of the game. Something I've found especially charming are the character intros. Everytime you run into an important character, a heroic jingle plays and they get some unique introductory art to go along with it. If Lunar was actually a popular game instead of a cult classic, these intros feel like something you could meme to hell and back. Put Jerma in one of these, except he gets the evil character intro theme.
The battle system uses a slight variation of the formation mechanic, in which the further a character is placed in the back row, the more turns they need to walk up to the enemy and hit them. In other words, it's not like most RPG's where the characters are swinging swords at each other from 20 feet away. It's slightly more real-time than that, where the character needs to physically walk up to the enemy and close the distance before being able to land a hit. Same goes for enemies landing physical damage on you. If a character's too far away, they'll move a little closer, but not close enough to land a hit. This was kinda interesting at first, but as usual, it is remedied by equipping back-row characters with long range weaponry and making use of magic spells. Once you figure that out, it's no different from any other RPG system.
Probably the biggest annoyance with the gameplay is the lack of creative dungeon design. Oops! All Mazes! Never was a fan of this sort of design, especially for RPG's where it becomes all the more clear that they are there just to waste your time. Throw in some break rooms, maybe some puzzle rooms where there are no battle encounters, a minigame, something that doesn't make it the one thousandth cave I've traveled through.
Lunar may also be likely to draw you in based on its writing alone. It's weird, wacky, tends to break the fourth wall... It's kinda mean-spirited at times. That's Working Designs showing their stuff right there, baby. Exile & Cosmic Fantasy had slivers of this, but it seems like Lunar was the game where they truly just up and went "fuck it, we're publishing this, it's our game now." There are pros to this... there are also problems with it that ring a little bit of ego.
Bear in mind, I'm not that much of a purist, it's fine for a localization to not be 1:1 with the original, and sometimes there are creative liberties taken that make the localization better than the original. However, it is both funny and partially infuriating to see this game's manual talking about the importance of staying faithful to the source material, before one sentence later talking about how they rewrote the opening theme song's lyrics to be less "lovey-dovey" and more "urgent", and claiming it's a change for the better. Seeing the localizer just outright contradict themselves like this, not to mention outright admitting their version is an improvement feels like it's lacking in the humble department.
Similarly, I take some concern with Working Design's claim that they had to replace various jokes to be more understandable for American audiences. And that's fine to do. I get it, some Japanese humor is too reliant on wordplays, puns, and the country's culture to be translatable. But, what's your excuse if you're inserting pop culture references into scenes that didn't have any? Legends of Localization did a short little article about one instance of the game doing this, and it's unfortunate they never did a more thorough look at one of these games, as immediately my curiosity wants to know how many more instances of this are there.
To be a localizer, you need to have the skill of a writer. A straight translation of a foreign language is unlikely to sound natural, so it's up to you to decide how to reshuffle everything and take advantage of your language's unique vocabulary in order for the script to flow naturally, while still preserving the overall intent of the original. In that sense, a localization always has some degree of opinion to it. However, taking a fantasy setting like this and essentially turning it into a parody of itself feels like steering the ship wheel a bit too far in the wrong direction. Rather than enhancing what's already there, you changed it completely and made it yours. That's where the problem arises for me.
Yes, your localization was amusing. Kinda dumb, but it did make for a more entertaining game at the end of the day, and it's possible I might've found Lunar kinda boring if it was more accurate. But I feel dirty admitting that. Because for all the genuine care and love that you poured into these publishing efforts, it's baffling that the one thing you didn't pay heed to is consistent faithfulness to the tone. The game's climatic moment, and what I've personally found to be the most memorable one, is undercut by a fourth wall break followed by a comment about spanking the villain. It's hard to say whether this was part of the original script or not, I don't speak the language so I'm not qualified to fully explore this. However, either the case is that the original script kinda ruined the mood of this scene, or the localizers did. Either way the jokes could've worked if they fit naturally, but instead they consist of dated references, and scat humor that make it blatantly clear they don't belong.
Anyway, that's probably gonna be the last time I rant about my localization woes, otherwise it's gonna get tiring. Is Lustar: The Silver Nar worth your time? Ehhh, maybe. For me, Lunar came at just the right time after a series of painfully slow and difficult RPG's. Lunar is not slow, it's not difficult, and it has some charm to it, some of it for the better and some of it not. If you ran out of popular RPG's to play and are hunting for some more obscure ones, I don't think you can go wrong with this one. Good enough for what it does, but the lack of complexity ultimately takes away any potential replayability. I'm interested in seeing how the later Lunar games hold up, including their remakes.
1994
Policenauts is a truly fascinating disaster of mixed messaging. On one hand, it asks and answers some interesting questions. What would society be like if we perfected space travel? If we made other planets inhabitable? What if after a 25-year coma, you've found yourself in such a world when it seemed like none of that was possible just yesterday? What of your friends? Your old colleagues? Your wife? You were gone for so long, so where are these people now? Is it worth chasing the past, especially if you may not end up getting the answers you like? If the people that you respected back then, are no longer who they used to be...?
But of all these questions, the one that it desperately wants to ask you the most is "How much creepy misogynistic bullshit can you stomach in order to experience any of these themes?" Because, fucking whoof. I thought Snatcher was bad with this stuff, but in contrast, that's nothing. Policenauts is a fantastic story, buried miles below a stream of constant intrusive interruptions of Kojima's unrestrained and creative freedom, otherwisely known as his libido.
Let's just get the good out of the way, shall we? Yes, there is a genuinely solid story here. When Jonathan (the main character) and your cop buddy Ed are going around solving the mystery of an illegal trafficking ring, looking into things that you shouldn't have and accusing high-ranking rich scumbags that could have you be disappeared within a day, Policenauts is a thrilling and dangerous ride, yet filled with many slow-paced instances of retrospection on the differences between this world, and the one Jonathan grew up with.
The story revels in its worldbuilding, its heavy usage of medicinal and biological terms that I barely grasp, and it is equally as intriguing as it is difficult to follow at times. Whether that's because things get too complicated for me, or because the pacing takes a bit of a nosedive and I start paying less attention. My deficit attention span aside, I find it well put together, with a viscerally satisfying ending that tops it off and wraps things up with a neat ribbon.
The visuals of the PS1 version, while not very stylistic when it comes to the backgrounds depicted (a downgrade from Snatcher's 16-bit nightly city landscapes, which were a lot cooler), are quite detailed and tend to match the standards of the anime produced of that time, alongside the couple FMV's that were produced for this port. An effort is made to deliver a cinematic quality that I think does a well enough job to enhance the setting, and storytelling of the game.
If Policenauts was just this, it'd be sitting at 4 stars right now. Maybe even 4.5, because damn, it really does have its special moments, and a couple pretty likable characters, Ed just being such a pitiable down-on-his-luck guy that you wanna root for. Regrettably, I'm now gonna have to come back to my initial point. Ed is likable, Jonathan... far from it.
As I stated in my Snatcher review, writing your main character to be horny isn't an automatic reason to make a rant like I'm about to. While I would more often leave it than take it, there's a decent way to do something like this. Policenauts oversteps its boundaries, and the boundaries of every single girl you will meet across your investigation. These are just working people. One's a flight attendant, the other's working behind an info desk... Most of them scantily-dressed, revealing some bit of sideboob or as much as leg as possible. And maybe I'd just be overthinking it, if it weren't for the game immediately enforcing these clothing choices by giving me free reign to flirt with them, comment on their face, their hips, their legs, and... a whole new feature exclusive to this game, the Molest button! Go right ahead, just grope their boobs and face absolutely no ramifications or consequences for it, beyond a meek scolding from your cop buddy, and an "Ahn~ Stop it~" from the girl. Truly, an experience made for the gamer.
Policenauts likes to utilize porn game logic for its moments of levity. Just like in a porn game, you're not really meant to think about the way you conduct yourself in front of a girl. Let your wild animal instincts kick in, and enjoy yourself, that's what I presume Kojima figured. The biggest problem with this sort of mindset is that you chose to insert mindless porn game logic into a story that actually requires you to think quite heavily. You can't turn your brain off in a game like this, you wouldn't be able to follow the plot, you wouldn't consider the theming, you wouldn't theorize about the truth of the mystery. You are required to do all of those things to get the most out of Policenauts, and just when you really start to immerse yourself into it- Hot dog, is that an attractive woman?! Cue up the Attractive Woman Theme Song, Jonathan's about to make some wacky unwanted advances!
You see? Policenauts wants to treat itself as a grounded and realistic story. But it also wants it both ways through dedicating half of its cast to a guy's fantasy, and an uncomfortably frequent chunk of its humor to attempts at sexual assault. And when you're in the middle of analyzing everything else, it's not gonna be hard to analyze this for what it is, which is an insanely one-sided depiction of women that takes away and distracts from an objective understanding of how the world really works, just to titillate the player a bit. One tone is contradicting the other, neither work well in tandem with each other, and it ends up ruining my ability to take any of the story seriously.
It's not a sin to appreciate the good aspects of Policenauts. But it would be ignorant to say what's problematic about it isn't a problem at all. If you were crafting a story as extensively detailed as this one, you'd think you would want to spread its message to a larger demographic than horny dudes. As it stands, how can I recommend this game to my friends? "There's a really cool story here, if you ignore all of the objectification?" I'm fucked. Policenauts fucked itself. And did it honestly need to be that way?
But of all these questions, the one that it desperately wants to ask you the most is "How much creepy misogynistic bullshit can you stomach in order to experience any of these themes?" Because, fucking whoof. I thought Snatcher was bad with this stuff, but in contrast, that's nothing. Policenauts is a fantastic story, buried miles below a stream of constant intrusive interruptions of Kojima's unrestrained and creative freedom, otherwisely known as his libido.
Let's just get the good out of the way, shall we? Yes, there is a genuinely solid story here. When Jonathan (the main character) and your cop buddy Ed are going around solving the mystery of an illegal trafficking ring, looking into things that you shouldn't have and accusing high-ranking rich scumbags that could have you be disappeared within a day, Policenauts is a thrilling and dangerous ride, yet filled with many slow-paced instances of retrospection on the differences between this world, and the one Jonathan grew up with.
The story revels in its worldbuilding, its heavy usage of medicinal and biological terms that I barely grasp, and it is equally as intriguing as it is difficult to follow at times. Whether that's because things get too complicated for me, or because the pacing takes a bit of a nosedive and I start paying less attention. My deficit attention span aside, I find it well put together, with a viscerally satisfying ending that tops it off and wraps things up with a neat ribbon.
The visuals of the PS1 version, while not very stylistic when it comes to the backgrounds depicted (a downgrade from Snatcher's 16-bit nightly city landscapes, which were a lot cooler), are quite detailed and tend to match the standards of the anime produced of that time, alongside the couple FMV's that were produced for this port. An effort is made to deliver a cinematic quality that I think does a well enough job to enhance the setting, and storytelling of the game.
If Policenauts was just this, it'd be sitting at 4 stars right now. Maybe even 4.5, because damn, it really does have its special moments, and a couple pretty likable characters, Ed just being such a pitiable down-on-his-luck guy that you wanna root for. Regrettably, I'm now gonna have to come back to my initial point. Ed is likable, Jonathan... far from it.
As I stated in my Snatcher review, writing your main character to be horny isn't an automatic reason to make a rant like I'm about to. While I would more often leave it than take it, there's a decent way to do something like this. Policenauts oversteps its boundaries, and the boundaries of every single girl you will meet across your investigation. These are just working people. One's a flight attendant, the other's working behind an info desk... Most of them scantily-dressed, revealing some bit of sideboob or as much as leg as possible. And maybe I'd just be overthinking it, if it weren't for the game immediately enforcing these clothing choices by giving me free reign to flirt with them, comment on their face, their hips, their legs, and... a whole new feature exclusive to this game, the Molest button! Go right ahead, just grope their boobs and face absolutely no ramifications or consequences for it, beyond a meek scolding from your cop buddy, and an "Ahn~ Stop it~" from the girl. Truly, an experience made for the gamer.
Policenauts likes to utilize porn game logic for its moments of levity. Just like in a porn game, you're not really meant to think about the way you conduct yourself in front of a girl. Let your wild animal instincts kick in, and enjoy yourself, that's what I presume Kojima figured. The biggest problem with this sort of mindset is that you chose to insert mindless porn game logic into a story that actually requires you to think quite heavily. You can't turn your brain off in a game like this, you wouldn't be able to follow the plot, you wouldn't consider the theming, you wouldn't theorize about the truth of the mystery. You are required to do all of those things to get the most out of Policenauts, and just when you really start to immerse yourself into it- Hot dog, is that an attractive woman?! Cue up the Attractive Woman Theme Song, Jonathan's about to make some wacky unwanted advances!
You see? Policenauts wants to treat itself as a grounded and realistic story. But it also wants it both ways through dedicating half of its cast to a guy's fantasy, and an uncomfortably frequent chunk of its humor to attempts at sexual assault. And when you're in the middle of analyzing everything else, it's not gonna be hard to analyze this for what it is, which is an insanely one-sided depiction of women that takes away and distracts from an objective understanding of how the world really works, just to titillate the player a bit. One tone is contradicting the other, neither work well in tandem with each other, and it ends up ruining my ability to take any of the story seriously.
It's not a sin to appreciate the good aspects of Policenauts. But it would be ignorant to say what's problematic about it isn't a problem at all. If you were crafting a story as extensively detailed as this one, you'd think you would want to spread its message to a larger demographic than horny dudes. As it stands, how can I recommend this game to my friends? "There's a really cool story here, if you ignore all of the objectification?" I'm fucked. Policenauts fucked itself. And did it honestly need to be that way?
1994
After over four Gameboy games that spent their time regurtitating level themes from the NES Mega Mans, the final fifth Gameboy game throws in a surprise: it's a fully original title! Hey, whoever gave up on the Gameboy games after two or three of them, did you hear me?! THIS ONE'S ORIGINAL! COME BACK!
They had the opportunity to throw in some levels from Mega Man 5 & 6, and call it a day. Instead, Mega Man V chose to create its own robot masters and its own set of stages, centered around cosmic planetary themes. One boss is called Venus, the other is Jupiter, and so on, and so forth. Levels are imbued with newly-created mechanics to spice things up here and there, and I've found the arsenal of weapons to be more interesting this time around, such as a weapon that saps enemy health and gives it to you.
The game feels like it's trying to do some creative things from a team that wanted to push the boundaries of what was expected from them, to create a Mega Man title that they could call their own. There's a sincerity to it, a much greater sincerity than some of the more recent Mega Man games that seem to exist just for the sake of sucking out all the honey from the formula. Of course, the gameplay here isn't anything new, it's still Mega Man, you still platform and shoot things to death... it's the aesthetic that shines brighter, it's the music that hits harder (I love the Venus theme, it feels so unconventional for a Mega Man title but it gets stuck in your head so easily), it's the level design that's more enjoyable. It's the same, yet it feels so much fresher in all the subtle ways.
Overall, an underrated title. It only took them 5 tries, but Capcom finally landed on a Gameboy Mega Man that's memorable, and would be likely to make you come back for more, especially as a Mega Man fan. Highly recommended.
They had the opportunity to throw in some levels from Mega Man 5 & 6, and call it a day. Instead, Mega Man V chose to create its own robot masters and its own set of stages, centered around cosmic planetary themes. One boss is called Venus, the other is Jupiter, and so on, and so forth. Levels are imbued with newly-created mechanics to spice things up here and there, and I've found the arsenal of weapons to be more interesting this time around, such as a weapon that saps enemy health and gives it to you.
The game feels like it's trying to do some creative things from a team that wanted to push the boundaries of what was expected from them, to create a Mega Man title that they could call their own. There's a sincerity to it, a much greater sincerity than some of the more recent Mega Man games that seem to exist just for the sake of sucking out all the honey from the formula. Of course, the gameplay here isn't anything new, it's still Mega Man, you still platform and shoot things to death... it's the aesthetic that shines brighter, it's the music that hits harder (I love the Venus theme, it feels so unconventional for a Mega Man title but it gets stuck in your head so easily), it's the level design that's more enjoyable. It's the same, yet it feels so much fresher in all the subtle ways.
Overall, an underrated title. It only took them 5 tries, but Capcom finally landed on a Gameboy Mega Man that's memorable, and would be likely to make you come back for more, especially as a Mega Man fan. Highly recommended.
1994
There's more to this game than meets the eye, and it seems that Nintendo wanted you to think just that. Which, in hindsight? Not the wisest strategy. You're gonna look at the box art, and you're likely to think "Donkey Kong? Like, the original one? Do I really need to play a Gameboy version of that, among all the other ports available?" Then you play it, and you kinda think to yourself "Yep, it's... Donkey Kong alright." The same four stages, the same goal, what appears to seemingly be the same mechanics.
It's not until those four stages are over that the game shows you exactly why you should be distinguishing it by the title of "Donkey Kong '94", instead of calling it another Donkey Kong port. There's a whole new game hidden behind its innoucuous appearance, a reimagining if you will, of the original concept. It's not about earning a high score anymore, it's got a sense of progression that's very akin to other Mario games. Traveling across a series of 9 worlds, level by level, with boss fights in-between. It's a game with a longevity meant to last, and... it's pretty damn well put together.
This game would also be the first to give Mario a more acrobatic moveset, stuff like side jumps, higher jumps achieved by timing your button presses as you touch the ground... while I'm not certain if Mario 64 was directly inspired by this game, or whether its inclusion of similar moves was a pure coincidence, it's still neat to see these moves date further back than what most people may think. Donkey Kong '94 overall plays quite nicely with these moves, allowing you to execute some crafty tricks here and there to traverse these bite-sized levels more efficiently. There was lots of thought and care put behind this entry, and I really think everyone needs to give it a go.
So, why did I abandon it? It's purely a problem of my own, not with the game, the 3.5 star rating is a subjective one. But, something that has to be kept in mind is that Donkey Kong '94 has the progression of a Mario game, the platforming of a Mario game, but a much heavier puzzle-centric design that may turn off some Mario fans, and that includes me.
The puzzles that require solving start off light enough, just a little bit of managable thinking. The later levels, not so much. There eventually comes a point where every level or two had me stumped. And while that's not necessarily a bad thing, (after all, a puzzle that doesn't stump you is not a good puzzle) I have come to accept that I'm not really a puzzle person unless we're talking about infrequent, occasional puzzles that are frequently broken up by larger doses of straightforward design. Donkey Kong '94 eventually lets go of its straightforwardness, and becomes a fully consistent puzzle game that proves to be too much for my forehead to handle.
Something that doesn't help is the time limit, which I find anti-thetical to a game that emphasizes puzzles over action. If I have to do a puzzle, I'd rather be given all the time in the world to think about it, and experiment with the possibilities I have, instead of being pressured to solve it as fast as possible. I think the time limit especially is what killed my enjoyment of the game, as even if I decided to adapt a more patient mentality towards how to play the game, it is clear that the game itself does not want me to be patient, and feels like it's going against its own messaging.
For puzzle fans, I'd rate this 4 stars. For myself and my own experience, it was a 3.5, cutting it kinda close to a straight 3 with some of the later levels failing to maintain my engagement, and ultimately causing me to drop it. While the game is based on the Arcade original, its goals are far different. Different from the original, and different from most Mario games. Different enough that I am not part of the audience that will end up enjoying it.
It's not until those four stages are over that the game shows you exactly why you should be distinguishing it by the title of "Donkey Kong '94", instead of calling it another Donkey Kong port. There's a whole new game hidden behind its innoucuous appearance, a reimagining if you will, of the original concept. It's not about earning a high score anymore, it's got a sense of progression that's very akin to other Mario games. Traveling across a series of 9 worlds, level by level, with boss fights in-between. It's a game with a longevity meant to last, and... it's pretty damn well put together.
This game would also be the first to give Mario a more acrobatic moveset, stuff like side jumps, higher jumps achieved by timing your button presses as you touch the ground... while I'm not certain if Mario 64 was directly inspired by this game, or whether its inclusion of similar moves was a pure coincidence, it's still neat to see these moves date further back than what most people may think. Donkey Kong '94 overall plays quite nicely with these moves, allowing you to execute some crafty tricks here and there to traverse these bite-sized levels more efficiently. There was lots of thought and care put behind this entry, and I really think everyone needs to give it a go.
So, why did I abandon it? It's purely a problem of my own, not with the game, the 3.5 star rating is a subjective one. But, something that has to be kept in mind is that Donkey Kong '94 has the progression of a Mario game, the platforming of a Mario game, but a much heavier puzzle-centric design that may turn off some Mario fans, and that includes me.
The puzzles that require solving start off light enough, just a little bit of managable thinking. The later levels, not so much. There eventually comes a point where every level or two had me stumped. And while that's not necessarily a bad thing, (after all, a puzzle that doesn't stump you is not a good puzzle) I have come to accept that I'm not really a puzzle person unless we're talking about infrequent, occasional puzzles that are frequently broken up by larger doses of straightforward design. Donkey Kong '94 eventually lets go of its straightforwardness, and becomes a fully consistent puzzle game that proves to be too much for my forehead to handle.
Something that doesn't help is the time limit, which I find anti-thetical to a game that emphasizes puzzles over action. If I have to do a puzzle, I'd rather be given all the time in the world to think about it, and experiment with the possibilities I have, instead of being pressured to solve it as fast as possible. I think the time limit especially is what killed my enjoyment of the game, as even if I decided to adapt a more patient mentality towards how to play the game, it is clear that the game itself does not want me to be patient, and feels like it's going against its own messaging.
For puzzle fans, I'd rate this 4 stars. For myself and my own experience, it was a 3.5, cutting it kinda close to a straight 3 with some of the later levels failing to maintain my engagement, and ultimately causing me to drop it. While the game is based on the Arcade original, its goals are far different. Different from the original, and different from most Mario games. Different enough that I am not part of the audience that will end up enjoying it.
1994
Because I grew up with the later Metroid titles, coming back to Super Metroid takes some adjusting. The controls are floatier, the inclusion of a run button feels a bit odd, and navigation can get pretty obtuse at times, especially since the game does not mark doors on your map, meaning what you might mistake for a dead end, could actually be progress. There's still some semblance of ironing out the kinks going on here, and it isn't what I would personally consider as the perfect Metroid experience.
But if I compared to this to the original Metroid 1 and 2 instead, then Super Metroid is a humongous leap in quality, and the first Metroid game I would feel confident recommending to people. Moreover, after I tried the game with the "Super Metroid: Redux" romhack, my prior nitpicks quickly faded away, and I could enjoy Super Metroid for what it really was: A fantastic metroidvania, well deserving of its praise, and one that was very ahead of its time.
One thing I hold a lot of praise for is its cinematic quality. In an age where games primarily positioned themselves as arcade experiences, Super Metroid expands on what Metroid 2 was too limited to do within the confines of the Gameboy, emphasizing a dark and atmospheric ambience. The action of the introductory sequence is preceded by a quiet solitude, dead bodies strewn all over, creating a story through its visuals before revealing the ultimate cause of the massacre. This trick is repeated one more time afterwards, settling you into a desolate and familiar planet, allowing you to soak in how it's changed since the last time you were here, only bringing out the real threats once you have disturbed and alerted the entire planet to your solitary and vulnerable presence.
And I mean, then there's the ending sequence, which I would rather not spoil, but if we're talking sequences that give me goosebumps, Super Metroid's ending may be the earliest possible example of this. It's not about giving you the ultimate challenge, but rather, it's to reinforce one last time that though you may be a powerful and legendary bounty hunter, you are still one single person at the end of the day. It is to reinforce that Samus Aran may get as powerful as she wants to, but that doesn't mean what she's fighting against will be any less unknown and unpredictable. This was not an adventure, it was a do-or-die mission where survival was only just barely obtained. And the game portrays this in the most visceral and cool way it possibly could've.
The exploration of Super Metroid is deceptively open-ended, offering next to no guidance, and further cementing the feeling of being stranded and alone. Thoroughness is recommended, as is memorization of certain inaccessible locations to an extent. But more than that, you'll want to accept quickly that your only goal in this game is to just go where the flow takes you. Don't hunt for anything specific. Just get lost in these caves, and study their layouts, until the time finally comes when you know your way around it all.
The lack of guidance also means that there is no predictable formula towards how soon or late you get your major upgrades, which makes the abrupt discovery of them all the more exciting. They could be at any corner, under any crevace, and it's likely that getting just one of them will change the way you play the game, and grant access to many possibilities that were previously not available. This is of course, a granted for Metroidvanias, but Super Metroid was the game that truly popularized the satisfaction of this kinda game design, and so it deserves the dibs on redundant descriptions of a genre's staple.
There is one problem that I've found with the exploration, and while not a huge deal, it is one that persists through pretty much every Metroid game there is. It is what I call "the missile dilemma." Among the various unique upgrades, Missile Capacity Upgrades are the most common collectible you'll find in a Metroid game. They are a part of what makes Samus stronger just as any other upgrade, but comparatively, they are the least exciting upgrades in these games. The dilemma stems from the fact that missile capacity upgrades also tend to be some of the hardest upgrades to obtain.
For balancing reasons, there's plenty of them that are quite simple to procure, but some of these things are locked behind some of the hardest challenges in the game, ones that require more advanced execution of the shinespark technique. And, my argument towards that is, for all the effort these particular challenges want you to go through, wouldn't it have been more exciting if your reward was a unique upgrade, rather than... another 5 more missiles worth of capacity?
The dilemma is further complicated by the fact that if you were to start gatekeeping important upgrades by putting them into these shinespark challenges, the rate of people who would complete this game would notably diminish. At the same time, the rewards that ARE currently there are underwhelming and not worth the strenuous hassle and multiple attempts worth of practice to reach them. The missiles that you obtain by playing the game casually are plenty enough to get you to the end, so why waste time on obtaining 5 more through a tough shinespark challenge? Just to get 100%? Other than bragging rights, it ain't worth it. But I understand that this is not an easy thing to address, and it's probably for the best that things stay this way rather than the other way around.
Overall, Super Metroid is an oppressive experience, one where it's easy to get overwhelmed by its sense of freedom. But this is to its advantage, crafting a game where a cool thing could be around any corner. Metroid really found its rhythm with this entry, so it's a shame it immediately lost it for about 8 years due to a lack of a N64 title. At least 2002 would go on to make up for Samus's absence with two major games.
Oh, and Save the Animals.
But if I compared to this to the original Metroid 1 and 2 instead, then Super Metroid is a humongous leap in quality, and the first Metroid game I would feel confident recommending to people. Moreover, after I tried the game with the "Super Metroid: Redux" romhack, my prior nitpicks quickly faded away, and I could enjoy Super Metroid for what it really was: A fantastic metroidvania, well deserving of its praise, and one that was very ahead of its time.
One thing I hold a lot of praise for is its cinematic quality. In an age where games primarily positioned themselves as arcade experiences, Super Metroid expands on what Metroid 2 was too limited to do within the confines of the Gameboy, emphasizing a dark and atmospheric ambience. The action of the introductory sequence is preceded by a quiet solitude, dead bodies strewn all over, creating a story through its visuals before revealing the ultimate cause of the massacre. This trick is repeated one more time afterwards, settling you into a desolate and familiar planet, allowing you to soak in how it's changed since the last time you were here, only bringing out the real threats once you have disturbed and alerted the entire planet to your solitary and vulnerable presence.
And I mean, then there's the ending sequence, which I would rather not spoil, but if we're talking sequences that give me goosebumps, Super Metroid's ending may be the earliest possible example of this. It's not about giving you the ultimate challenge, but rather, it's to reinforce one last time that though you may be a powerful and legendary bounty hunter, you are still one single person at the end of the day. It is to reinforce that Samus Aran may get as powerful as she wants to, but that doesn't mean what she's fighting against will be any less unknown and unpredictable. This was not an adventure, it was a do-or-die mission where survival was only just barely obtained. And the game portrays this in the most visceral and cool way it possibly could've.
The exploration of Super Metroid is deceptively open-ended, offering next to no guidance, and further cementing the feeling of being stranded and alone. Thoroughness is recommended, as is memorization of certain inaccessible locations to an extent. But more than that, you'll want to accept quickly that your only goal in this game is to just go where the flow takes you. Don't hunt for anything specific. Just get lost in these caves, and study their layouts, until the time finally comes when you know your way around it all.
The lack of guidance also means that there is no predictable formula towards how soon or late you get your major upgrades, which makes the abrupt discovery of them all the more exciting. They could be at any corner, under any crevace, and it's likely that getting just one of them will change the way you play the game, and grant access to many possibilities that were previously not available. This is of course, a granted for Metroidvanias, but Super Metroid was the game that truly popularized the satisfaction of this kinda game design, and so it deserves the dibs on redundant descriptions of a genre's staple.
There is one problem that I've found with the exploration, and while not a huge deal, it is one that persists through pretty much every Metroid game there is. It is what I call "the missile dilemma." Among the various unique upgrades, Missile Capacity Upgrades are the most common collectible you'll find in a Metroid game. They are a part of what makes Samus stronger just as any other upgrade, but comparatively, they are the least exciting upgrades in these games. The dilemma stems from the fact that missile capacity upgrades also tend to be some of the hardest upgrades to obtain.
For balancing reasons, there's plenty of them that are quite simple to procure, but some of these things are locked behind some of the hardest challenges in the game, ones that require more advanced execution of the shinespark technique. And, my argument towards that is, for all the effort these particular challenges want you to go through, wouldn't it have been more exciting if your reward was a unique upgrade, rather than... another 5 more missiles worth of capacity?
The dilemma is further complicated by the fact that if you were to start gatekeeping important upgrades by putting them into these shinespark challenges, the rate of people who would complete this game would notably diminish. At the same time, the rewards that ARE currently there are underwhelming and not worth the strenuous hassle and multiple attempts worth of practice to reach them. The missiles that you obtain by playing the game casually are plenty enough to get you to the end, so why waste time on obtaining 5 more through a tough shinespark challenge? Just to get 100%? Other than bragging rights, it ain't worth it. But I understand that this is not an easy thing to address, and it's probably for the best that things stay this way rather than the other way around.
Overall, Super Metroid is an oppressive experience, one where it's easy to get overwhelmed by its sense of freedom. But this is to its advantage, crafting a game where a cool thing could be around any corner. Metroid really found its rhythm with this entry, so it's a shame it immediately lost it for about 8 years due to a lack of a N64 title. At least 2002 would go on to make up for Samus's absence with two major games.
Oh, and Save the Animals.
If Sonic 2 wasn't already a big improvement on the Classic Sonic formula, Sonic 3 swoops in and takes the crown by a mile. A game so ambitious, so loaded with unique content, and so tightly polished despite of its scale, it may be as close to a perfect Sonic game as it gets, and most certainly the best platformer on the Genesis. Combined with the "& Knuckles" part, this is a lengthy and fulfilling package that can last you multiple playthroughs worth of discovering new routes and secrets, with tons of levels to do so.
In the first level alone, you go from a beach, to a jungle, to a burning jungle, into some lakes, followed by a chase sequence, culminating in a boss fight in a waterfall-laden area. Every act has its own song, its own mechanic, its own boss. The water level is actually FUN. And the soundtrack, man, the soundtrack. One funky hit after another. This is, and may always be the ultimate Classic Sonic game, the love poured into it was evident, as if Sonic Team wanted to make this their final one.
My only real gripes are centered around the optional content. Firstly, may be a controversial take, I'm not really a fan of the Blue Sphere special stages. They're better than Sonic 2's, but some of the later ones get pretty confusing to navigate. Secondly, unlocking Hyper Sonic requires sacrificing your ability to turn into Super Sonic in order to complete 7 additional special stages, adding up to 14 total. I consider this padding, and even then, I don't think it's worth the hassle, I'd rather just keep Super Sonic. Speaking of, there really should've been an option to turn the Super Sonic music off. This game has so many good-ass songs, that it's a shame that Super Sonic's 15-second loop pretty much overrides the entire soundtrack.
On another note, figuring out the absolute best version of Sonic 3 & Knuckles to play is its own challenge. It's certainly not the Origins version, I'll tell you that much. As you may know, Sonic 3 & Knuckles originally came out as two seperate games, "Sonic 3" and "Sonic & Knuckles", and this is the combined version of those games, intended to be the definitive experience. Problem is, it's missing a boss from the "Sonic 3" part of the game. For that reason, I actually consider playing "Sonic 3" and "Sonic & Knuckles" seperately as the more recommended option, but it does mean that you won't get to keep the emeralds you collected in Sonic 3 once you begin the other game.
I believe there's a romhack and a fanmade PC decompilation that may serve as the true definitive way to play Sonic 3 & Knuckles, although I haven't looked into them too much. But it may be worth doing so. Whichever way you go about it though, you're still in for a good time. Phenomenal fucking game.
In the first level alone, you go from a beach, to a jungle, to a burning jungle, into some lakes, followed by a chase sequence, culminating in a boss fight in a waterfall-laden area. Every act has its own song, its own mechanic, its own boss. The water level is actually FUN. And the soundtrack, man, the soundtrack. One funky hit after another. This is, and may always be the ultimate Classic Sonic game, the love poured into it was evident, as if Sonic Team wanted to make this their final one.
My only real gripes are centered around the optional content. Firstly, may be a controversial take, I'm not really a fan of the Blue Sphere special stages. They're better than Sonic 2's, but some of the later ones get pretty confusing to navigate. Secondly, unlocking Hyper Sonic requires sacrificing your ability to turn into Super Sonic in order to complete 7 additional special stages, adding up to 14 total. I consider this padding, and even then, I don't think it's worth the hassle, I'd rather just keep Super Sonic. Speaking of, there really should've been an option to turn the Super Sonic music off. This game has so many good-ass songs, that it's a shame that Super Sonic's 15-second loop pretty much overrides the entire soundtrack.
On another note, figuring out the absolute best version of Sonic 3 & Knuckles to play is its own challenge. It's certainly not the Origins version, I'll tell you that much. As you may know, Sonic 3 & Knuckles originally came out as two seperate games, "Sonic 3" and "Sonic & Knuckles", and this is the combined version of those games, intended to be the definitive experience. Problem is, it's missing a boss from the "Sonic 3" part of the game. For that reason, I actually consider playing "Sonic 3" and "Sonic & Knuckles" seperately as the more recommended option, but it does mean that you won't get to keep the emeralds you collected in Sonic 3 once you begin the other game.
I believe there's a romhack and a fanmade PC decompilation that may serve as the true definitive way to play Sonic 3 & Knuckles, although I haven't looked into them too much. But it may be worth doing so. Whichever way you go about it though, you're still in for a good time. Phenomenal fucking game.