The anti-Mario 64: Banjo's moves are entirely situational, self-explanatory, and devoid of momentum. Collecting jiggies usually boils down to solving a simple contextual puzzle rather than utilizing any kind of creative platforming. As a result, there's hardly a difficulty curve or any implicit progression... but it doesn't matter, because Banjo-Kazooie's total mastery over its own strengths and weaknesses means it's fully confident in being utterly carried by its level design. The every-nook-and-cranny mindset is the very foundation of the collectathon, and yet I've never seen it done better than in the game that more or less created the genre. Despite how little there is to the platforming, every in-game structure feels multipurpose. Anything that can be jumped on top of also hides a collectible behind or underneath it, any piece of architecture has several entrances that you have to consider. This philosophy peaks in Mad Monster Mansion, where not only does the main building have multiple ways into multiple rooms on multiple floors, but the hazardous thorn bushes outside double as pathways after receiving Mumbo's transformation. If anything, Kirkhope's soundtrack doesn't get enough credit for establishing this sense of interconnectivity. Plucky platforming tunes seamlessly transition into Rare's signature unexpectedly moody ambience, impossible to imagine the game without. The more unsung hero is the game's usage of verticality. Nearly every level has some kind of player-led buildup to reaching the area's summit, eventually bestowing a way to scout out points of interest that you might have missed and, more importantly, personal satisfaction. The end result is a series of beautifully concise dioramas, each taking about an hour to fully complete and best experienced one-a-day. The well-meaning but far too convoluted Click Clock Wood is the only world I'd label as less than 'great,' but it's not enough to put a significant damper on the rest. With how lukewarm I've been on nearly every recent 3D platformer, I'd been beginning to fear that my love for them might've left me, but all it took was a classic to remind me it's still far and away the best genre. Maybe not as mindblowing as it was in the 90s but no less of a supremely enjoyable experience. Bring 'em back, Phil.