Hypnospace Outlaw was a masterful expression of turn of the millennium Internet culture and thematic exploration of the increasing corporatization of the Internet. Slayers X, its boomer shooter spinoff, continues this deft grasp of Internet culture though this time through a complete parody of what was considered cool by teenage boys on the era. Slayers X is the in-universe game that Zane made himself and it’s the kind of self-aggrandizing work only a teen boy could pull off. Zane is the chosen X-Slayer out to stop the Psyko Sindicate and to avenge his loved ones. (RIP Zane’s mom) The whole game is just such a great parody and it’s funny throughout. The aesthetic is also just so good, one of my favorite aspects being how it feels like it hearkens to Blood what with its Build Engine look and how the cut scenes reminded of Blood’s style, though much more exaggerated.

The gunplay is pretty much all fun, my only complaint is the starter dual pistols feel limp. One of the standout weapons to me is the shotgun which shoots out glass shards so to get ammo for it you have to break glass cases, mirrors, and windows, this added a nice facet of being more aware of the environment when scrounging around. The level design is also really great too, with a great deal of location variety and different avenues of approach. Zane will be blasting his way through Psykos across his hometown among such as locations as a suburban cul-de-sac, trailer-park, and state fair. The levels are rather expansive but rarely confusing, which is what really pushes a boomer shooter to greatness I feel.

The game is unfortunately rather short and I would have liked a few more hours out of it, but on the other hand the game never outlasts its welcome and is always throwing new things at you. Slayers X is just overall a fantastic shooter and genuinely funny game. Now I just eagerly wait for the next Hypnospace game, Dream Settler, because this series is quickly becoming one of my favorite in games.

Capcom Classics Collection Revisits #5

Exed Exes is a dumb name. You executed the executables? Yeah, that's why they're called executables you stupid game. Idiot.

Notably this was released here in NA as "Savage Bees" apparently, it's still called Exed Exes most of the time I believe. A shame because I think Savage Bees is a better title.

Playing another very early Capcom shmup after 1942 feels a bit shitty, but at least it really goes to show how not having some asshat blowing a whistle at you can improve your enjoyment. Exed Exes definitely mixes it up a bit better than 1942 with it's enemy and boss variety, though this game still likes to throw a bunch of giant evil capital "H"s at you and some flying conjoined crosses. I kinda like the weird cyber beehive aesthetic of the game, but unfortunately it does get a bit boring after a bit despite being able to continue indefinitely as long as your pocket change remains intact. I recall playing this game for like an hour when I first tried it as a kid on CCC Vol. 1, and was wondering "goddamn when does this fucking game end?!", because iirc the rewards did demand a certain score to be reached or to beat the last Exes boss or something.

Not bad at all, just a bit before even my time. Much more willing to be nice to this game than 1942, fuck that guy.

Tetris 99 and its consequences have been a disaster for the human race.

I don't think Arkanoid works as a battle-royale-style game. This is still a working version of Arkanoid though, so it's at least got that going for it. It's not offensively bad or anything, it just isn't treading any new ground whatsoever.

     ‘The critical point of withdrawal is not the early phase of acute sickness, but the final step free from the medium of junk....’
     – William S. Burroughs, Naked Lunch, 1959.

Subverting Myst (1993) is an exercise in simplicity. Despite its legendary status, the Miller brothers' title was filled with a certain modesty compared to the mainstream production of the time. Its abstract narrative and minimalist interactions lent themselves to the contemplation of an island whose contours were easy to grasp. This approach was facilitated by Sunsoft, who asked the Millers to produce a more mature title than their earlier children's games, such as Cosmic Osmo and the Worlds Beyond the Mackerel (1989) and Spelunx and the Caves of Mr Seudo (1991). A parody of such a classic title makes sense, as it turns the original concept of Myst on its head, capturing a universe whose interpretation was left up to the player. Parroty Interactive teamed up with Peter Bergman, a member of Firesign Theatre, to take on this challenge.

The radio comedy troupe Firesign Theatre is an institution of American absurdist production. Critical of presidencies from Nixon to Reagan, whose election came as a hammer blow to the group, Firesign Theatre has always placed its productions within a complex political spectrum, seeking to be clear-eyed witnesses to events in the modern United States. In Waiting for the Electrician or Someone Like Him (1968), the group criticised the hippie counterculture's fascination with indigenous people, comparing it to historical American colonialism and equating it with a form of white supremacy. The Firesign Theatre was never really a counterculture – at least the group repeatedly refused to be called one – but it did seek to contribute to public debate, rather than sinking into a social pessimism that could not be heard by the general public. Indeed, David McCarthy contrasts their method, 'firmly anchored in the present [and] from a position inside history' [1], with that of Daphne Oram.

Firesign Theatre's approach was also highly referential, playing with the radio medium to create a poetic contrast between the old-fashioned quality of the recording and the modern content of their albums. The sound is sometimes deliberately drowned in white noise, sometimes in discordant filters. The intonation is at times inspired by evangelical prosody, at others by television culture. This network of references creates a unique depth and holds the listener's attention with stylistically and aurally unexpected passages. As a direct parody of Myst, one might expect the same techniques to be found in P.Y.S.T.: to a certain extent, they are. However, the title sinks into a certain complacency and fails to create a structure as chiseled as Firesign Theatre's audio productions.

Myst's gameplay was particularly contemplative and uncluttered, with simple, open decors. P.Y.S.T., with its deliberately grimy art direction, is drowned out by excessive detail, and the few interactions that do take place leave the player largely passive. Because the various audio recordings are only played after clicking on the appropriate element on the screen, the game is often immersed in an unproductive silence: the complex layers of sound and fluid narrative of Firesign Theatre are a long way off. While the title retains a critical spirit, attacks on the punk counterculture and the USSR take precedence over those on rampant capitalism and television. Watching the various TV mini-sketches in the Garden becomes a chore, as does the horoscope parody in the Planetarium, which has been repurposed as a gruesome doctor's office. The humour in P.Y.S.T. is generally heavy-handed, dated and borderline offensive.

The undoubtedly disappointing aspect of the title is how far it is from being a no-budget amateur production. On the contrary, the behind-the-scenes parody shows very well equipped studios and a large crew. John Goodman even plays King Mattruss. While the irreverence of P.Y.S.T. may not be a problem, the dissonance between gameplay and world-building is underwhelming. While Firesign Theatre's productions have always been chaotic, this game parody simply lacks coherence and purpose. By contrast, Zork: Grand Inquisitor (1997), a return to a humorous formula after the very serious Zork Nemesis (1996), was far more competent in its writing and made far better use of its prestigious cast and radiophonic tradition, delivering a genuine point-n-click experience.

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[1] David McCarthy, ‘“Attitudes Toward History” and the Radiophonic Compositions of Daphne Oram and the Firesign Theatre’, in Jarmila Mildorf, Pim Verhulst (ed.), Radio Art and Music: Culture, Aesthetics, Politics, Rowman & Littlefield, 2020, p. 81.