King’s Valley II is masked with ardent care for devilish tradition, daring you to decode the message within. There’s bewitching devotion to the static puzzle box of wits and strategy, crafted under of the guise of lateral thinking. Rooms unfold like artifacts from a lost architect, lingering in the abyss for you to seek out, one screen at time.
From a functional design standpoint, the nuance of these games was built out of direct limitation. Each fragment of the underlying game logic had purpose; obstacles, tools, enemies and so forth. The root is in the simple ingredients, with small tweaks adjusting the framework, escalating as you push the building blocks. The best way to examine the design is understanding how a single ladder or revolving door can drastically alter an entire level’s motive; and how those nouns interact to create deeper logical abstraction on the player's end, forcing them to contemplate their options to succeed. Konami on the MSX was an advocate of making the most of each design space. That philosophy is pushed to its utmost limit, with expression conveyed solely through the lens of a single-screen.
The question remains: If it doesn't enrich the head-scratching, is it any good?
Fortunately, the conceptual mixing pot of King’s Valley II runs quite deep, with each tool forming an adequate base, another layer of the puzzle to chisel away at. A breezy teaching method turns into a test of wits, with proper refinement to progression and further understanding of the basic ask. Design necessitates that you can lock yourself out of a solution, but levels will often have multiple ways to proceed, opening up the range of possibilities. Optimal solves exist, yet much of the fun of these games is navigating a setback or two. The magic is in the conflict — finding your respite out of the abstract puzzle box. When everything clicks into place, it's those little moments of brilliance that stay with the player.
There's a gentle slope up to the midway point, where levels become quite challenging and complex. Levels loop in multiple directions, disappearing floors, revolving doors that lock or lead you to salvation. Herding enemy patterns, with the guards having divergent behavior to navigate with comprehension. Hidden traps that alter the level. Little by little, you are expected to reason with every piece of the framework and have mastery over the tools. There's a lot to take in. Even a level editor to fool around with, where you could create and send your levels in to MSX magazines for the chance to win a gold cartridge. Only 20 in existence - all bearing the recipients name - who knows how many are left at this point. We all become consumed by the great pyramid king at the end — maybe the cover art was onto something.
Give it a go and find out if you got what it takes. It’s a puzzling treat.
From a functional design standpoint, the nuance of these games was built out of direct limitation. Each fragment of the underlying game logic had purpose; obstacles, tools, enemies and so forth. The root is in the simple ingredients, with small tweaks adjusting the framework, escalating as you push the building blocks. The best way to examine the design is understanding how a single ladder or revolving door can drastically alter an entire level’s motive; and how those nouns interact to create deeper logical abstraction on the player's end, forcing them to contemplate their options to succeed. Konami on the MSX was an advocate of making the most of each design space. That philosophy is pushed to its utmost limit, with expression conveyed solely through the lens of a single-screen.
The question remains: If it doesn't enrich the head-scratching, is it any good?
Fortunately, the conceptual mixing pot of King’s Valley II runs quite deep, with each tool forming an adequate base, another layer of the puzzle to chisel away at. A breezy teaching method turns into a test of wits, with proper refinement to progression and further understanding of the basic ask. Design necessitates that you can lock yourself out of a solution, but levels will often have multiple ways to proceed, opening up the range of possibilities. Optimal solves exist, yet much of the fun of these games is navigating a setback or two. The magic is in the conflict — finding your respite out of the abstract puzzle box. When everything clicks into place, it's those little moments of brilliance that stay with the player.
There's a gentle slope up to the midway point, where levels become quite challenging and complex. Levels loop in multiple directions, disappearing floors, revolving doors that lock or lead you to salvation. Herding enemy patterns, with the guards having divergent behavior to navigate with comprehension. Hidden traps that alter the level. Little by little, you are expected to reason with every piece of the framework and have mastery over the tools. There's a lot to take in. Even a level editor to fool around with, where you could create and send your levels in to MSX magazines for the chance to win a gold cartridge. Only 20 in existence - all bearing the recipients name - who knows how many are left at this point. We all become consumed by the great pyramid king at the end — maybe the cover art was onto something.
Give it a go and find out if you got what it takes. It’s a puzzling treat.