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There was no guarantee that it would turn out like this. After the one-two punch of the first two Ys games in 1987 and 1988, the series would take a number of perplexing turns through the late 80s and early 90s. Ys III, originally intended as a gaiden, was a side-scrolling platformer with only the barest hints of RPG elements. Then the two primary creative forces behind the first three Ys games, Tomoyoshi Miyazaki and Masaya Hashimoto, left to found Quintet before a proper sequel could be developed. Unable to deliver a full game on its own, Nihon Falcom provided a scenario and music for two versions of Ys IV, both released in 1993: Tonkin House’s abysmal Mask of the Sun for Super Famicom, and Hudon’s Dawn of Ys for PC Engine CD-ROM², a highly-polished follow-up to the superlative PC Engine CD-ROM² ports of the first two games. Both versions of Ys IV strive to recreate the gameplay and style of the first two Ys games, but neither has a clue about how to evolve Ys beyond the basic bump combat that was growing stale by 1993.
The real death blow to the series, though, was 1995’s Ys V: Lost Kefin, Kingdom of Sand, a late Super Famicom release developed by Falcom that makes the first real stab at defining the future of the series. Ditching bump combat in favor of dedicated attack and jump buttons, Ys V plays a lot like a Quintet game, except it lacks the elegant construction and polish of games such as Illusion of Gaia and Terranigma. While it's a memorable adventure with many of Falcom’s classic touches (the soundtrack whips), it’s clearly rushed. The difficulty is wildly uneven, the attempts at platforming fall flat, and technical issues such as loading times reveal Falcom’s lack of expertise working with the Super Famicom hardware. It’s not a bad action-RPG, but it’s not Ys.
The only signs of Ys’s continued survival as a series for the rest of the 90s were well-received remakes of Ys I and II. This is where the story could have ended. Ys could have gone the way of Hydlide or any number of the other influential Japanese role-playing series that couldn’t keep up with the times. Even Falcom itself, by this point reduced to subsisting primarily on low-budget Windows games, seemed headed for a similar fate as its 80s Japanese microcomputer contemporaries. But instead we got Ys VI, the beginning of a remarkable second life not just for Ys but for Falcom as a whole.
After being sucked into the Great Vortex, a thinly veiled version of the Bermuda Triangle, Adol finds himself on the Canaan Islands, a thinly veiled pastiche of a Caribbean island chain dominated by the tension between its native peoples (the Rehda) and largely European colonizers (the Eresians). While the overarching story itself is no great shakes, Falcom’s gift for applying the sweeping grandeur of mythological fantasy bullshit to small-scale settings shines through.
There are only two small towns and a handful of other NPCs, but every character has a name, a character portrait, a personality, and even their own ongoing arcs. The little dramas that play out, from the town drunk turning a new leaf to the two siblings running rival shops, lend the game its heart. Perhaps the strongest of these threads is how the Eresians, largely trapped on the islands by the Great Vortex against their will, have learned to live on the islands. Some have embraced their fate, while others are haunted by it.
Doubling down on Ys V’s more traditional action-RPG mechanics, Ys VI’s combat is built around attack and jump buttons along with a very basic magic system. While it adds some new twists such as leveling up your three elemental swords, it’s surprisingly close to a highly refined version of Ys V’s combat. Unlike Ys V though, Ys VI’s combat is blazingly fast and fluid. It’s closer to a beat ’em up than the stiff action-RPGs of the 16-bit era, with Adol bouncing around against hordes of enemies who occasionally bombard him with danmaku-esque projectile patterns. On normal difficulty, the curve is just right, encouraging a mix of grinding and dexterity, but never rising to frustration.
While there are only a handful of dungeons, they’re all intricate mazes that are deeply satisfying to explore, although nothing here matches the scope and ambition of Darm Tower or Solomon Shrine. The game is on the short side, but highly replayable, with multiple difficulty levels and an optional Catastrophe mode that removes healing items. As with the best of the earlier Ys games, it’s closer to a Metroidvania than a traditional RPG. There’s no overworld, and the two islands that comprise the vast majority of the game can be traversed end-to-end in just a few minutes.
Despite its many highs, Ys VI stumbles in a few places. Pacing is uneven, with an extended exposition drop at the end of the second act in particular killing the momentum for no real payoff. Platforming is unnecessarily fussy, with a counterintuitive long jump mechanic that’s sure to annoy. These flaws pull the game down from all-timer status, but this is still a must-play for fans of Ys and Falcom. A number of key players in the company’s ongoing renaissance, including future president Toshihiro Kondo, worked on the game, and it’s a joy to see them begin to figure out the future Falcom style here. That isn’t even getting into the superb artwork or the spectacular soundtrack, which blends the style of classic Ys music, Ryo Yonemitsu’s beloved Redbook audio arrangements from the PC Engine CD-ROM² games, and modern touches such as drum’n’bass breaks. I already can’t wait to pick this one up again for a Nightmare mode run.
The real death blow to the series, though, was 1995’s Ys V: Lost Kefin, Kingdom of Sand, a late Super Famicom release developed by Falcom that makes the first real stab at defining the future of the series. Ditching bump combat in favor of dedicated attack and jump buttons, Ys V plays a lot like a Quintet game, except it lacks the elegant construction and polish of games such as Illusion of Gaia and Terranigma. While it's a memorable adventure with many of Falcom’s classic touches (the soundtrack whips), it’s clearly rushed. The difficulty is wildly uneven, the attempts at platforming fall flat, and technical issues such as loading times reveal Falcom’s lack of expertise working with the Super Famicom hardware. It’s not a bad action-RPG, but it’s not Ys.
The only signs of Ys’s continued survival as a series for the rest of the 90s were well-received remakes of Ys I and II. This is where the story could have ended. Ys could have gone the way of Hydlide or any number of the other influential Japanese role-playing series that couldn’t keep up with the times. Even Falcom itself, by this point reduced to subsisting primarily on low-budget Windows games, seemed headed for a similar fate as its 80s Japanese microcomputer contemporaries. But instead we got Ys VI, the beginning of a remarkable second life not just for Ys but for Falcom as a whole.
After being sucked into the Great Vortex, a thinly veiled version of the Bermuda Triangle, Adol finds himself on the Canaan Islands, a thinly veiled pastiche of a Caribbean island chain dominated by the tension between its native peoples (the Rehda) and largely European colonizers (the Eresians). While the overarching story itself is no great shakes, Falcom’s gift for applying the sweeping grandeur of mythological fantasy bullshit to small-scale settings shines through.
There are only two small towns and a handful of other NPCs, but every character has a name, a character portrait, a personality, and even their own ongoing arcs. The little dramas that play out, from the town drunk turning a new leaf to the two siblings running rival shops, lend the game its heart. Perhaps the strongest of these threads is how the Eresians, largely trapped on the islands by the Great Vortex against their will, have learned to live on the islands. Some have embraced their fate, while others are haunted by it.
Doubling down on Ys V’s more traditional action-RPG mechanics, Ys VI’s combat is built around attack and jump buttons along with a very basic magic system. While it adds some new twists such as leveling up your three elemental swords, it’s surprisingly close to a highly refined version of Ys V’s combat. Unlike Ys V though, Ys VI’s combat is blazingly fast and fluid. It’s closer to a beat ’em up than the stiff action-RPGs of the 16-bit era, with Adol bouncing around against hordes of enemies who occasionally bombard him with danmaku-esque projectile patterns. On normal difficulty, the curve is just right, encouraging a mix of grinding and dexterity, but never rising to frustration.
While there are only a handful of dungeons, they’re all intricate mazes that are deeply satisfying to explore, although nothing here matches the scope and ambition of Darm Tower or Solomon Shrine. The game is on the short side, but highly replayable, with multiple difficulty levels and an optional Catastrophe mode that removes healing items. As with the best of the earlier Ys games, it’s closer to a Metroidvania than a traditional RPG. There’s no overworld, and the two islands that comprise the vast majority of the game can be traversed end-to-end in just a few minutes.
Despite its many highs, Ys VI stumbles in a few places. Pacing is uneven, with an extended exposition drop at the end of the second act in particular killing the momentum for no real payoff. Platforming is unnecessarily fussy, with a counterintuitive long jump mechanic that’s sure to annoy. These flaws pull the game down from all-timer status, but this is still a must-play for fans of Ys and Falcom. A number of key players in the company’s ongoing renaissance, including future president Toshihiro Kondo, worked on the game, and it’s a joy to see them begin to figure out the future Falcom style here. That isn’t even getting into the superb artwork or the spectacular soundtrack, which blends the style of classic Ys music, Ryo Yonemitsu’s beloved Redbook audio arrangements from the PC Engine CD-ROM² games, and modern touches such as drum’n’bass breaks. I already can’t wait to pick this one up again for a Nightmare mode run.
2017
I finally finished this one after putting a few hours into it a couple years back. It's an extremely well-crafted side-scrolling Dark Souls that everyone thinks is a Metroidvania.
The combat is excellent and a high point of the game. Later boss encounters in particular are some of the most satisfying times I've had with an action game in a while. Traversal is equally enjoyable after unlocking a few abilities and wonderfully fluid in the final quarter or so once you pick up the last big ones.
A few things brought this one down for me a little below where a lot of other folks place it. While the art style and aesthetics did frequently win me over, too much of the game is draped in drab color palettes and minimal musical accompaniment. Even more unfortunately, the duller areas in the game are mostly grouped towards the beginning, which is an interminable slog that put me off the game until I finally built up the willpower to break through. But I'm glad I finally did, because the back half has some fantastic bits.
I didn't do the vast majority of the optional content. It's possible that I might revisit it at some point and revise my rating if there's a lot of worthwhile stuff there. As things currently stand, it's a pretty dang good game, but I'm having a lot of trouble understanding why anyone would put this above SotN.
The combat is excellent and a high point of the game. Later boss encounters in particular are some of the most satisfying times I've had with an action game in a while. Traversal is equally enjoyable after unlocking a few abilities and wonderfully fluid in the final quarter or so once you pick up the last big ones.
A few things brought this one down for me a little below where a lot of other folks place it. While the art style and aesthetics did frequently win me over, too much of the game is draped in drab color palettes and minimal musical accompaniment. Even more unfortunately, the duller areas in the game are mostly grouped towards the beginning, which is an interminable slog that put me off the game until I finally built up the willpower to break through. But I'm glad I finally did, because the back half has some fantastic bits.
I didn't do the vast majority of the optional content. It's possible that I might revisit it at some point and revise my rating if there's a lot of worthwhile stuff there. As things currently stand, it's a pretty dang good game, but I'm having a lot of trouble understanding why anyone would put this above SotN.
2019
An epistolary narrative assembled from Geocities pages, Hypnospace Outlaw could have easily slipped into twee Web 1.0 nostalgia or punched down on the collection of weirdos and outcasts who populate its alternate reality version of the 90s web. But somehow, miraculously, it creates a fully realized and lived-in world of surprisingly multi-layered characters whose flaws and eccentricities are often humorous but more often endearing. There are some fairly easy to spot influences: Michel Gondry’s blend of technology and magical realism and the lo-fi surreality of Tim & Eric immediately spring to mind. Yet this brand of storytelling and writing still feels utterly unique. There is nothing else out there that approximates the Hypnospace Outlaw vibe.
An embarrassment of riches is hiding in plain sight, from emotionally wrenching chat logs saved in text files to pitch-perfect parodies of musical genres ranging from nu-metal to kosmische. The kind of petty dramas familiar to anyone who frequented message boards in the 90s bubble up from passive-aggressive snipes to full-on flame wars in delightfully absurd ways. Jokes layer on top of jokes layer on top of heartbreak. And it all feels genuine, because the writers have affection not just for the era but for the characters.
The gameplay has obvious influences from hidden object games, as well as the keyword-driven search of Her Story and the meta trickery of Cliff Johnson’s works such as The Fool’s Errand. While there are a few clever “a-ha!” moments, hunting for the next MacGuffin to advance the story can occasionally become a chore. This almost would have been better with mechanics stripped out in favor of presenting a pure interactive narrative. But this is a minor gripe in the face of brilliance. Hypnospace Outlaw accomplishes the rarest of feats: It got me invested in its world. I cannot wait to play Slayers X and (hopefully!) Dreamsettler soon.
An embarrassment of riches is hiding in plain sight, from emotionally wrenching chat logs saved in text files to pitch-perfect parodies of musical genres ranging from nu-metal to kosmische. The kind of petty dramas familiar to anyone who frequented message boards in the 90s bubble up from passive-aggressive snipes to full-on flame wars in delightfully absurd ways. Jokes layer on top of jokes layer on top of heartbreak. And it all feels genuine, because the writers have affection not just for the era but for the characters.
The gameplay has obvious influences from hidden object games, as well as the keyword-driven search of Her Story and the meta trickery of Cliff Johnson’s works such as The Fool’s Errand. While there are a few clever “a-ha!” moments, hunting for the next MacGuffin to advance the story can occasionally become a chore. This almost would have been better with mechanics stripped out in favor of presenting a pure interactive narrative. But this is a minor gripe in the face of brilliance. Hypnospace Outlaw accomplishes the rarest of feats: It got me invested in its world. I cannot wait to play Slayers X and (hopefully!) Dreamsettler soon.
Wallachia: Reign of Dracula is the commercial debut of Migami Games, a small development studio that had previously built a reputation on top of its Castlevania fan games, most notably the two games in the Lecarde Chronicles series. As its name suggests, Wallachia is still heavily indebted to Castlevania, at least aesthetically. Medieval towns and castles, trap-filled caverns, and verdant forests are all lovingly rendered in pixel art that harkens back to 16-bit consoles, with a touch of Western influence that’s charmingly reminiscent of Amiga Europlatformers and MS-DOS shareware. The music, with its mix of wailing guitars and ROMpler synths, instantly recalls Rondo of Blood and Symphony of the Night, although it sometimes veers a little too close to its influences.
Where Wallachia distinguishes itself as something more than a Castlevania fan game with the serial numbers filed off is its gameplay, which evokes several classic action-platformers from the 80s and 90s without feeling like a direct ripoff of any one particular game or series. You play as the archeress Elcin, who is seeking vengeance for the death of her parents and abduction of her brother at the hands of ol’ Drac. While Elcin has a sword for melee combat, her primary weapon is her bow. You can shoot a rapid volley of arrows or charge up for a much more powerful attack. Elcin can shoot in 8 directions; holding down the L button will lock her into place for stationary aiming.
Elcin has a surprisingly large number of additional abilities. She has a double jump, which is necessary for surviving the trickier platforming of the later stages, as well as a slide that’s activated by pressing the jump button while crouching. She can collect some passive arrow and sword upgrades and even some limited ammo arrow variants, such as a three way spread shot. Rounding things out, she has the ability to summon helpers such as her wolf companion Silviu by spending orbs that she collects throughout the levels.
What this boils down to is a game that plays a bit like Contra mixed with Shinobi, but it pulls in quite a few other influences along the way. This is a game made by folks who love the arcade and console action platformers of the 80s and 90s. In parts it recalls Wolf Team’s Annet trilogy, Valis, the PC-98 classic Rusty, and the output of gritty B-tier arcade manufacturers like Data East and Jaleco. It even pays direct homage to the bears from the TurboGrafx-16 classic Legendary Axe.
Make no mistake, this is a low-budget affair, and it has its fair share of jank. The control scheme feels way overstuffed: The crouching slide in particular is way too easy to accidentally trigger, and given that it’s impossible to cancel out of, it led to quite a few inadvertent deaths sliding off platforms during my playthrough. Issues like these are compounded by incredibly stingy checkpointing, which may be frustrating for some players who are less experienced with this genre. Unfortunately, the game also cuts off after the fifth level on Easy difficulty, which is needlessly punishing. But anyone who grew up with the brutal challenge of classics like Revenge of Shinobi probably won’t have too much of a problem getting through it on Normal difficulty (Hard is another story…).
Much like its influences, Wallachia is a brief game. Its seven levels can be skillfully navigated in around an hour, although you’ll definitely spend more time making good use of its unlimited continues on your first playthrough. There are a handful of unlockable bonus challenges and an in-game achievement system to extend the play time further. Wallachia is definitely for a fairly niche audience, but it’s refreshing to see this very specific era of games given such loving treatment. If you have affection for these sorts of games, it’s definitely worth picking up.
Where Wallachia distinguishes itself as something more than a Castlevania fan game with the serial numbers filed off is its gameplay, which evokes several classic action-platformers from the 80s and 90s without feeling like a direct ripoff of any one particular game or series. You play as the archeress Elcin, who is seeking vengeance for the death of her parents and abduction of her brother at the hands of ol’ Drac. While Elcin has a sword for melee combat, her primary weapon is her bow. You can shoot a rapid volley of arrows or charge up for a much more powerful attack. Elcin can shoot in 8 directions; holding down the L button will lock her into place for stationary aiming.
Elcin has a surprisingly large number of additional abilities. She has a double jump, which is necessary for surviving the trickier platforming of the later stages, as well as a slide that’s activated by pressing the jump button while crouching. She can collect some passive arrow and sword upgrades and even some limited ammo arrow variants, such as a three way spread shot. Rounding things out, she has the ability to summon helpers such as her wolf companion Silviu by spending orbs that she collects throughout the levels.
What this boils down to is a game that plays a bit like Contra mixed with Shinobi, but it pulls in quite a few other influences along the way. This is a game made by folks who love the arcade and console action platformers of the 80s and 90s. In parts it recalls Wolf Team’s Annet trilogy, Valis, the PC-98 classic Rusty, and the output of gritty B-tier arcade manufacturers like Data East and Jaleco. It even pays direct homage to the bears from the TurboGrafx-16 classic Legendary Axe.
Make no mistake, this is a low-budget affair, and it has its fair share of jank. The control scheme feels way overstuffed: The crouching slide in particular is way too easy to accidentally trigger, and given that it’s impossible to cancel out of, it led to quite a few inadvertent deaths sliding off platforms during my playthrough. Issues like these are compounded by incredibly stingy checkpointing, which may be frustrating for some players who are less experienced with this genre. Unfortunately, the game also cuts off after the fifth level on Easy difficulty, which is needlessly punishing. But anyone who grew up with the brutal challenge of classics like Revenge of Shinobi probably won’t have too much of a problem getting through it on Normal difficulty (Hard is another story…).
Much like its influences, Wallachia is a brief game. Its seven levels can be skillfully navigated in around an hour, although you’ll definitely spend more time making good use of its unlimited continues on your first playthrough. There are a handful of unlockable bonus challenges and an in-game achievement system to extend the play time further. Wallachia is definitely for a fairly niche audience, but it’s refreshing to see this very specific era of games given such loving treatment. If you have affection for these sorts of games, it’s definitely worth picking up.