CaptainKuro
1988
Unbelievably, before Sonic the Hedgehog arrived on the scene, Altered Beast was SEGA's big, flagship game. Paraded to consumers as a (relatively) faithful adaption of the arcade version, Altered Beast showcased what the Mega Drive could do graphically and sonically, especially compared to the aging NES. It evidently worked but Altered Beast has aged like milk and isn't really worth revisiting.
The game is essentially a scrolling beat 'em up but it suffers from woefully stiff movement, a limited move-set and very little enemy variety. The game is frustratingly difficult because the character you control moves like ass and levels have no real design to speak of, they're just totally flat stretches that see an occasional enemy stroll into view to bash.
Admittedly Altered Beast does have some memetic value. I mean, you're playing as a buff bodybuilder who wanders around graveyards in tight little speedos, punching the heads off shambling zombies before transforming into a wolf or a dragon or whatever. There's something hilarious about the premise. It's a shame the game doesn't offer anything beyond a light chuckle.
The game is essentially a scrolling beat 'em up but it suffers from woefully stiff movement, a limited move-set and very little enemy variety. The game is frustratingly difficult because the character you control moves like ass and levels have no real design to speak of, they're just totally flat stretches that see an occasional enemy stroll into view to bash.
Admittedly Altered Beast does have some memetic value. I mean, you're playing as a buff bodybuilder who wanders around graveyards in tight little speedos, punching the heads off shambling zombies before transforming into a wolf or a dragon or whatever. There's something hilarious about the premise. It's a shame the game doesn't offer anything beyond a light chuckle.
It's amazing how much of a difference a new lick of paint can make.
Super Mario Wonder is a 2D Mario game that is a kind of successor to the New Super Mario Bros. series. The NSMB games spanned multiple consoles and while that series was originally praised as a welcome return to classic 2D Mario gameplay, the formula quickly got old and uninspired. Then, along came Super Mario Wonder.
Wonder retains the strong fundamentals that made the NSMB games fun. Tight controls, satisfying platforming, chaotic multiplayer gameplay...but Wonder adds a hefty spoonful of creativity to the recipe that felt missing in the NSMB titles. You never feel like Wonder is just 'going through the motions' or presenting 'more of the same'; it's a beautifully fresh, dynamic take on 2D Mario.
So, what's different? For starters, Wonder is an utterly gorgeous looking game. The graphics have a clean, cartoony look and every character, enemy and landscape is beaming with personality. Wonder also has a relatively experimental soundtrack as well. The soundtrack does a good job of mixing traditional Mario tunes with slightly more atmospheric and off-kilter compositions, which makes for some great variety and adds even more charm to the visually stunning environments. Most importantly, Wonder is a game teaming with fun ideas and unexpected gimmicks.
Every level sees you collecting a Wonder Seed, an item that, when grabbed, fundamentally changes something about the level's gameplay. You'll find Wonder Seeds that transform you into enemies, turn the level into a minimalistic silhouette (à la Donkey Kong Country Returns), changes the level perspective to a top-down view and many, many, MANY more. You just never know what you're getting yourself into when you boot up a level and collect a Wonder Seed.
THAT is the real joy of Wonder; you never know what to expect. The coupling of the new presentation with the constantly whimsical, diverse gameplay easily elevates Wonder above the NSMB games. It delighted me in a way that no 2D Mario game has since Yoshi's Island and I can easily see myself revisiting Wonder for a second run in a couple of years.
Super Mario Wonder is a 2D Mario game that is a kind of successor to the New Super Mario Bros. series. The NSMB games spanned multiple consoles and while that series was originally praised as a welcome return to classic 2D Mario gameplay, the formula quickly got old and uninspired. Then, along came Super Mario Wonder.
Wonder retains the strong fundamentals that made the NSMB games fun. Tight controls, satisfying platforming, chaotic multiplayer gameplay...but Wonder adds a hefty spoonful of creativity to the recipe that felt missing in the NSMB titles. You never feel like Wonder is just 'going through the motions' or presenting 'more of the same'; it's a beautifully fresh, dynamic take on 2D Mario.
So, what's different? For starters, Wonder is an utterly gorgeous looking game. The graphics have a clean, cartoony look and every character, enemy and landscape is beaming with personality. Wonder also has a relatively experimental soundtrack as well. The soundtrack does a good job of mixing traditional Mario tunes with slightly more atmospheric and off-kilter compositions, which makes for some great variety and adds even more charm to the visually stunning environments. Most importantly, Wonder is a game teaming with fun ideas and unexpected gimmicks.
Every level sees you collecting a Wonder Seed, an item that, when grabbed, fundamentally changes something about the level's gameplay. You'll find Wonder Seeds that transform you into enemies, turn the level into a minimalistic silhouette (à la Donkey Kong Country Returns), changes the level perspective to a top-down view and many, many, MANY more. You just never know what you're getting yourself into when you boot up a level and collect a Wonder Seed.
THAT is the real joy of Wonder; you never know what to expect. The coupling of the new presentation with the constantly whimsical, diverse gameplay easily elevates Wonder above the NSMB games. It delighted me in a way that no 2D Mario game has since Yoshi's Island and I can easily see myself revisiting Wonder for a second run in a couple of years.
1995
The early 1990s was the heyday of the 'rockstar' comic book artist; an era where Rob Liefeld and Todd McFarlane left Marvel comics to find fame and fortune with their own creative projects. This, then, was the perfect point in pop culture history for a game like Comix Zone to release.
You play as Sketch Turner, a grungy comic book artist who sports jorts, fingerless-gloves and a cut-off leather waistcoat, who is sucked into his own comic book. It's a simple premise and the game certainly succeeds in capturing the energy of contemporaneous comic books. The game sees you cheekily jump from comic panel to comic panel, beating up cool looking enemies that are literally drawn into being by a hand and pencil on-screen as speech bubbles pop up for the odd bit of dialogue. The tone and graphics are great and the comic book vibe that Comix Zone evokes is unique, for sure.
The thing is though...the gameplay lets the game down massively. Comix Zone is a beat 'em up / puzzle platformer but almost everything you do takes away your health, whether that's trying to beat up a boss or bash your way through an obstacle. The health loss completely kneecaps the game and, in particular, makes the combat jarringly unfun. I can't help but feel the slow-pace and cautious attitude that you have to adopt to preserve your health doesn't really fit with the flashy, action-packed presentation of the game. I had to abandon this one because it wasn't as much fun as I'd hoped it would be, which is a shame.
You play as Sketch Turner, a grungy comic book artist who sports jorts, fingerless-gloves and a cut-off leather waistcoat, who is sucked into his own comic book. It's a simple premise and the game certainly succeeds in capturing the energy of contemporaneous comic books. The game sees you cheekily jump from comic panel to comic panel, beating up cool looking enemies that are literally drawn into being by a hand and pencil on-screen as speech bubbles pop up for the odd bit of dialogue. The tone and graphics are great and the comic book vibe that Comix Zone evokes is unique, for sure.
The thing is though...the gameplay lets the game down massively. Comix Zone is a beat 'em up / puzzle platformer but almost everything you do takes away your health, whether that's trying to beat up a boss or bash your way through an obstacle. The health loss completely kneecaps the game and, in particular, makes the combat jarringly unfun. I can't help but feel the slow-pace and cautious attitude that you have to adopt to preserve your health doesn't really fit with the flashy, action-packed presentation of the game. I had to abandon this one because it wasn't as much fun as I'd hoped it would be, which is a shame.
1999
It's amazing how much fun you can eke out of a bad game when you're young and desperate. I played the heck out of Attitude as a kid; it was my first wrestling game and I was a WWF fanatic. The create-a-wrestler mode offered an endless amount of entertainment and the full wrestler entrances, soundbites and snarky commentary by Shane McMahon and Jerry Lawler made the game feel like the closest I could get to booking and playing my own episode of Monday Night Raw.
Revisiting Attitude recently might have been a mistake though. The wrestlers move so stiffly and slowly, as if they've been stitched together by Dr. Frankenstein, and pulling off even a simple suplex requires memorising a string of silly inputs. These are dehabilitating faults but they're ones I wilfully ignored in 1999. Despite it's massive flaws I've got some great memories playing this game and that alone allows for a slightly generous star rating I think.
Revisiting Attitude recently might have been a mistake though. The wrestlers move so stiffly and slowly, as if they've been stitched together by Dr. Frankenstein, and pulling off even a simple suplex requires memorising a string of silly inputs. These are dehabilitating faults but they're ones I wilfully ignored in 1999. Despite it's massive flaws I've got some great memories playing this game and that alone allows for a slightly generous star rating I think.
1993
Originally released for the Mega CD and PC, for the first decade of it's existence Sonic CD had an air of mystery about it. It was considered something of a 'lost' Sonic game because so few fans had played it. I first got the chance to boot up the game when Sonic Gems Collection released in 2005. After over a decade of hearing about, but never being able to play, Sonic CD, my expectations were sky high.
Artistically, Sonic CD blew me away when I played it for the first time. It has, arguably, the best soundtrack in Sonic's illustrious history (the Japanese variant specifically, though the American soundtrack is also excellent) and beautifully realised levels that bring back the weird, slightly abstract visual design of the first game. The levels all look and sound great and that's all the more impressive considering Sonic CD's central time travel gimmick. You can visit a Past, Present, Good Future and Bad Future version of every level and it's truly wonderful to see each level's evolution (or devolution).
To get the game's best ending you're encouraged to travel to the past in each act of each zone, find a Robotnik device and destroy it. Doing so creates a 'good future' for the zone while failing to do so creates a 'bad future'. On paper, it's a pretty cool concept that adds an extra layer of agency to Sonic and the player but the time travel conceit completely changes how Sonic CD's levels are designed for the worse. The levels are all more maze-like and sprawling than previous instalments. They're built this way to encourage you to explore and find the devices but it doesn't make for a particularly fun experience. The central issue with this is that if you're playing casually and ignoring the exploration aspect of the game, the levels feel somewhat short and underwhelming. But even if you invest the time to scour each level for the Robotnik doohickeys, the level design doesn't suddenly shine, instead it feels convoluted, frustrating and confusing. Stardust Speedway is probably the best example of what I mean. It's not a terrible level. It has a bold design and looks fantastic but it's far too easy to blast through and poses no challenge whatsoever if you choose not to explore. If you do spend some time exploring, however, Stardust Speedway is a maddening labyrinth of loops, ramps and spring with no memorable set pieces or routes. It's literally a spiderweb of high-speed paths and ends up giving me a bit of a headache if I spend too long looking around.
Over time, and after investing the time to actually find most of the Robotnik devices (I've never taken the time to 100% the game, mind you), I have grown to appreciate the interesting direction the game takes classic Sonic gameplay but I still feel the attempt to innovate here was somewhat botched. I quite enjoy playing Sonic CD casually, taking in the sights and sounds and largely ignoring the time-travel mechanic. For me it's the weakest of the classic Sonic quadrilogy.
Artistically, Sonic CD blew me away when I played it for the first time. It has, arguably, the best soundtrack in Sonic's illustrious history (the Japanese variant specifically, though the American soundtrack is also excellent) and beautifully realised levels that bring back the weird, slightly abstract visual design of the first game. The levels all look and sound great and that's all the more impressive considering Sonic CD's central time travel gimmick. You can visit a Past, Present, Good Future and Bad Future version of every level and it's truly wonderful to see each level's evolution (or devolution).
To get the game's best ending you're encouraged to travel to the past in each act of each zone, find a Robotnik device and destroy it. Doing so creates a 'good future' for the zone while failing to do so creates a 'bad future'. On paper, it's a pretty cool concept that adds an extra layer of agency to Sonic and the player but the time travel conceit completely changes how Sonic CD's levels are designed for the worse. The levels are all more maze-like and sprawling than previous instalments. They're built this way to encourage you to explore and find the devices but it doesn't make for a particularly fun experience. The central issue with this is that if you're playing casually and ignoring the exploration aspect of the game, the levels feel somewhat short and underwhelming. But even if you invest the time to scour each level for the Robotnik doohickeys, the level design doesn't suddenly shine, instead it feels convoluted, frustrating and confusing. Stardust Speedway is probably the best example of what I mean. It's not a terrible level. It has a bold design and looks fantastic but it's far too easy to blast through and poses no challenge whatsoever if you choose not to explore. If you do spend some time exploring, however, Stardust Speedway is a maddening labyrinth of loops, ramps and spring with no memorable set pieces or routes. It's literally a spiderweb of high-speed paths and ends up giving me a bit of a headache if I spend too long looking around.
Over time, and after investing the time to actually find most of the Robotnik devices (I've never taken the time to 100% the game, mind you), I have grown to appreciate the interesting direction the game takes classic Sonic gameplay but I still feel the attempt to innovate here was somewhat botched. I quite enjoy playing Sonic CD casually, taking in the sights and sounds and largely ignoring the time-travel mechanic. For me it's the weakest of the classic Sonic quadrilogy.
1985
Nope. This one is too hard for me. I enjoy difficult games but everyone has their limit and Ghosts 'n Goblins is mine.
The difficulty starts with the movement. The hero of the game, Arthur, has a static jump arc which makes everything, from platforming to avoiding enemies, so difficult. This isn't unusual for a game of this era but the ultimate kick in the teeth is the cruel randomness of Ghosts 'n Goblins. I think that's what sets it apart from Castlevania, Contra et al.
As early as the first few seconds of the game you'll notice the red-haired zombies seem to spawn in random locations, making even the first level impossible to brute force via memorisation. The flying demon enemies are the worst offenders though; they have such a shockingly nefarious attack pattern and feel like a gigantic, undodgeable homing missile. When you combine this unpredictability with Arthur's shockingly stiff jump it makes for an absolute headache of a game where even the simplest of enemies can become an unavoidable hazard.
Playing Ghosts 'n Goblins feels like digital torture and I'm not much of a sadomasochist, so I'll pass.
On the plus side, the music is iconic, elevating the game up a half star in my estimation.
The difficulty starts with the movement. The hero of the game, Arthur, has a static jump arc which makes everything, from platforming to avoiding enemies, so difficult. This isn't unusual for a game of this era but the ultimate kick in the teeth is the cruel randomness of Ghosts 'n Goblins. I think that's what sets it apart from Castlevania, Contra et al.
As early as the first few seconds of the game you'll notice the red-haired zombies seem to spawn in random locations, making even the first level impossible to brute force via memorisation. The flying demon enemies are the worst offenders though; they have such a shockingly nefarious attack pattern and feel like a gigantic, undodgeable homing missile. When you combine this unpredictability with Arthur's shockingly stiff jump it makes for an absolute headache of a game where even the simplest of enemies can become an unavoidable hazard.
Playing Ghosts 'n Goblins feels like digital torture and I'm not much of a sadomasochist, so I'll pass.
On the plus side, the music is iconic, elevating the game up a half star in my estimation.
Dr. Robotnik's Mean Bean Machine is an 'Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog'-themed reskin of Japanese falling block puzzle game Puyo Puyo and it's a heck of a good time.
The premise of Mean Bean is simple but addictive. Pairs of beans fall from the top of the screen and you have to join them together in batches of four or more to pop them off your board. When you do, it makes a rock appear on your opponents board so by clearing your own board you're simultaneously disrupting your opponents. Crucially, you can build your board up patiently and then get rid of an epic amount of beans in a chain combo, which in turn, creates an avalanche of rocks on your opponents board.
This is the central risk reward matrix at the heart of Mean Bean's gameplay and adds a delectable layer of tension. Do you build up a monstrous combo and leave yourself vulnerable to enemy rocks or do you try to overwhelm your opponent with a continual string of smaller combos?
It's a formula that's easy to grasp but takes time to master and the single-player mode does a good job of testing out your skills. I always found Mean Bean's single-player mode hit a sweet-spot with it's difficulty curve. Every robotic opponent has a distinct playstyle but they get progressively tougher to beat, pushing you to continually blast through your own perceived skill ceiling in an effort to get further. It's the type of game I find endlessly replayable and satisfying to best.
For what it's worth, I enjoy Mean Bean over the original Puyo Puyo because of it's AOSTH inspiration. It's so much fun to see the goofy enemy portraits change from smug grins to desperate, sweating faces when you turn the tide in your favour. The tense Kraftwerk-inspired music and excellent use of well-placed sound effects (an exuberant YIPEE sounds off whenever you pop a quad of beans) only add to the satisfaction when you've got Dr. Robotnik or one of his lackeys on the ropes.
The premise of Mean Bean is simple but addictive. Pairs of beans fall from the top of the screen and you have to join them together in batches of four or more to pop them off your board. When you do, it makes a rock appear on your opponents board so by clearing your own board you're simultaneously disrupting your opponents. Crucially, you can build your board up patiently and then get rid of an epic amount of beans in a chain combo, which in turn, creates an avalanche of rocks on your opponents board.
This is the central risk reward matrix at the heart of Mean Bean's gameplay and adds a delectable layer of tension. Do you build up a monstrous combo and leave yourself vulnerable to enemy rocks or do you try to overwhelm your opponent with a continual string of smaller combos?
It's a formula that's easy to grasp but takes time to master and the single-player mode does a good job of testing out your skills. I always found Mean Bean's single-player mode hit a sweet-spot with it's difficulty curve. Every robotic opponent has a distinct playstyle but they get progressively tougher to beat, pushing you to continually blast through your own perceived skill ceiling in an effort to get further. It's the type of game I find endlessly replayable and satisfying to best.
For what it's worth, I enjoy Mean Bean over the original Puyo Puyo because of it's AOSTH inspiration. It's so much fun to see the goofy enemy portraits change from smug grins to desperate, sweating faces when you turn the tide in your favour. The tense Kraftwerk-inspired music and excellent use of well-placed sound effects (an exuberant YIPEE sounds off whenever you pop a quad of beans) only add to the satisfaction when you've got Dr. Robotnik or one of his lackeys on the ropes.
2023
Bomb Rush Cyberfunk is a spiritual successor to the Dreamcast-era Jet Set Radio games. As someone who never played Jet Set Radio, I can't speak to how well Bomb Rush resurrects the Jet Set formula but I can say I enjoyed the game a tremendous amount.
Visually, Bomb Rush opts for cel-shaded graphics and, in it's futuristic architecture and it's character designs, has a sense of style that's evocative of the Y2K aesthectic. It nails the 'Dreamcast' vibe it's obviously aiming for. To boot, the soundtrack is also astonishingly good; a curated collection of funky tunes including a few stand-outs from Hideki Naganuma. In short, it looks and sounds fantastic.
But Bomb Rush is more than just a pretty face. The gameplay is also top notch. It feels like a rollerblading (and skateboarding...and BMXing) collect-a-thon, except rather than collecting anything you're tagging each areas gauntlet of graffiti spots with one of your growing collection of unlockable graffiti patterns.
There are a few cool secret areas to be found and genuine collectables (like alternate costumes) around that incentive exploration but I got an intrinsic satisfaction just from knowing I'd been able to successfully traverse every inch of a particular area. That's probably because, crucially, movement feels so fluid and satisfying. The world of Bomb Rush is filled with grindable rails, scalable billboards and halfpipes. A lot of the joy of the game comes from mastering the movement to the extent that you can easily cruise from one side of a level to another without touching the ground or without losing your combo. That's really the main thrill of Bomb Rush: why walk from A to B when you can grind your way up a staircase, hop from billboard to billboard, skate on the side of a train and dive off the top of a building while performing a 360 to get there instead?!
Ultimately the game has high-skill ceiling that it dares you to reach. Beating the game's story mode is fairly easy but going out of your way to earn all of the game's combo trophies in each area will push your abilities to their limit and are well worth the time investment.
I do have a couple of gripes with the game though. The combat feels completely superfluous. The game is littered with cops but fighting them is the weakest aspect of the gameplay because of how floaty and light the combat feels. At least it can be avoided (outside of boss fights). More heinously, the area maps are atrociously unhelpful. The maps offer no interactivity nor zoom features and because of this, although items and graffiti spots are highlighted, it's often impossible to decipher which way is best to go to get them.
Still, despite a couple of imperfections, a really solid game.
Visually, Bomb Rush opts for cel-shaded graphics and, in it's futuristic architecture and it's character designs, has a sense of style that's evocative of the Y2K aesthectic. It nails the 'Dreamcast' vibe it's obviously aiming for. To boot, the soundtrack is also astonishingly good; a curated collection of funky tunes including a few stand-outs from Hideki Naganuma. In short, it looks and sounds fantastic.
But Bomb Rush is more than just a pretty face. The gameplay is also top notch. It feels like a rollerblading (and skateboarding...and BMXing) collect-a-thon, except rather than collecting anything you're tagging each areas gauntlet of graffiti spots with one of your growing collection of unlockable graffiti patterns.
There are a few cool secret areas to be found and genuine collectables (like alternate costumes) around that incentive exploration but I got an intrinsic satisfaction just from knowing I'd been able to successfully traverse every inch of a particular area. That's probably because, crucially, movement feels so fluid and satisfying. The world of Bomb Rush is filled with grindable rails, scalable billboards and halfpipes. A lot of the joy of the game comes from mastering the movement to the extent that you can easily cruise from one side of a level to another without touching the ground or without losing your combo. That's really the main thrill of Bomb Rush: why walk from A to B when you can grind your way up a staircase, hop from billboard to billboard, skate on the side of a train and dive off the top of a building while performing a 360 to get there instead?!
Ultimately the game has high-skill ceiling that it dares you to reach. Beating the game's story mode is fairly easy but going out of your way to earn all of the game's combo trophies in each area will push your abilities to their limit and are well worth the time investment.
I do have a couple of gripes with the game though. The combat feels completely superfluous. The game is littered with cops but fighting them is the weakest aspect of the gameplay because of how floaty and light the combat feels. At least it can be avoided (outside of boss fights). More heinously, the area maps are atrociously unhelpful. The maps offer no interactivity nor zoom features and because of this, although items and graffiti spots are highlighted, it's often impossible to decipher which way is best to go to get them.
Still, despite a couple of imperfections, a really solid game.
A Sonic pinball game, on paper, makes sense. Casino Night Zone is often cited by fans as one of the most memorable levels in Sonic 2 and that had plenty of flippers and bumpers that were a lot of fun to interact with. Casino Night Zone was also one of the easiest, chillest levels in Sonic 2. Surely Sonic Spinball will take a page out of it's predecessors book and bring us a game with that same breezy atmosphere and gameplay as Casino Night Zone, right? Well....not quite.
Sonic Spinball is like a less friendly, no-nonsense approach to the pinball genre that is punishingly hard, easily the hardest Sonic game I've played. This is, if you'll excuse the expression, the 'Dark Souls' of Sonic games.
I do admire the game's ambition. The levels are designed to be more interesting than your run-of-the-mill licensed pinball game; sprawling in scope with visuals more akin to a contemporary platformer game than a flashy pinball game. The whole experience is framed as a frantic climb up Robotnik's lair, which is cool. The first level, Toxic Caves, is admirably murky looking and satisfying to vertically scale...but the difficulty starts getting ridiculous in Lava Powerhouse, the game's second level, with some very finickity jumps and some brutal bottomless pits. I've never completed the game without the help of modern save and rewind features. The final level is an absolute beast and I was never able to beat it as a kid. It's a fun game but perhaps a little too hard.
More than anything else though I have a soft spot for Sonic Spinball because it's design is informed by an American perspective and it's the only game in the series to incorporate elements of the SatAM cartoon series (Princess Sally and co make cameo appearances), which is pretty rad. Honestly, the soundtrack slaps hard as well. That distinctly grimy, industrial sound the Mega Drive sound chip was known for works perfectly here and compliments the slightly grittier style of the game's graphics.
Sonic Spinball is like a less friendly, no-nonsense approach to the pinball genre that is punishingly hard, easily the hardest Sonic game I've played. This is, if you'll excuse the expression, the 'Dark Souls' of Sonic games.
I do admire the game's ambition. The levels are designed to be more interesting than your run-of-the-mill licensed pinball game; sprawling in scope with visuals more akin to a contemporary platformer game than a flashy pinball game. The whole experience is framed as a frantic climb up Robotnik's lair, which is cool. The first level, Toxic Caves, is admirably murky looking and satisfying to vertically scale...but the difficulty starts getting ridiculous in Lava Powerhouse, the game's second level, with some very finickity jumps and some brutal bottomless pits. I've never completed the game without the help of modern save and rewind features. The final level is an absolute beast and I was never able to beat it as a kid. It's a fun game but perhaps a little too hard.
More than anything else though I have a soft spot for Sonic Spinball because it's design is informed by an American perspective and it's the only game in the series to incorporate elements of the SatAM cartoon series (Princess Sally and co make cameo appearances), which is pretty rad. Honestly, the soundtrack slaps hard as well. That distinctly grimy, industrial sound the Mega Drive sound chip was known for works perfectly here and compliments the slightly grittier style of the game's graphics.
1986
Castlevania is a game I can appreciate but it's one I struggle to truly love.
Like many NES games, Castlevania is a short experience and can be beaten in less than half an hour. Seemingly to counteract this, the game is incredibly challenging and demands to be played dozens of times to master. Every level has been carefully curated so that EVERYTHING, from the smallest enemies to the most modest of jumps, poses a massive threat. The combination of Simon Belmont's sluggish, stiff movement (an intentional design choice, forcing the player to attack and jump with absolute precision) and the devilish enemy attack patterns make this game feel overly difficult at times but I appreciate just how well crafted every level feels. Absolutely everything feels intentional, not a pixel feels out of place.
As much as I respect how tight the gameplay feels, I had to rely on save states to get past some of the trickier sections. Some of the bosses, for example, are nigh impossible if you didn't happen to pick up and keep the right weapon from the preceding level. Without the modern convenience of save states, I'd probably have given up playing halfway through.
Ultimately the best thing about Castlevania is the atmosphere. It's genuinely impressive how much of a rustic, spooky ambience the game has, considering the technical limitations of the NES. The game uses the limited available colour palette wonderfully to bring the enemies and levels to life, it's surprisingly gorgeous at times. The soundtrack also helps tremendously. It's one of the NES' best. Each track imbues it's corresponding level with a slightly different vibe from adventurous to eerie and unsettling.
On a final note, I was first exposed to the Castlevania series by YouTuber James Rolfe and I have to parrot one of his takes. This first game was so evocative of classic, gothic horror that it very much reminds me of old Hammer horror movies. I can't help but feel it's a shame (though true to the original Japanese intention, I suppose) that Castlevania projects are now always tied to an anime aesthetic.
Like many NES games, Castlevania is a short experience and can be beaten in less than half an hour. Seemingly to counteract this, the game is incredibly challenging and demands to be played dozens of times to master. Every level has been carefully curated so that EVERYTHING, from the smallest enemies to the most modest of jumps, poses a massive threat. The combination of Simon Belmont's sluggish, stiff movement (an intentional design choice, forcing the player to attack and jump with absolute precision) and the devilish enemy attack patterns make this game feel overly difficult at times but I appreciate just how well crafted every level feels. Absolutely everything feels intentional, not a pixel feels out of place.
As much as I respect how tight the gameplay feels, I had to rely on save states to get past some of the trickier sections. Some of the bosses, for example, are nigh impossible if you didn't happen to pick up and keep the right weapon from the preceding level. Without the modern convenience of save states, I'd probably have given up playing halfway through.
Ultimately the best thing about Castlevania is the atmosphere. It's genuinely impressive how much of a rustic, spooky ambience the game has, considering the technical limitations of the NES. The game uses the limited available colour palette wonderfully to bring the enemies and levels to life, it's surprisingly gorgeous at times. The soundtrack also helps tremendously. It's one of the NES' best. Each track imbues it's corresponding level with a slightly different vibe from adventurous to eerie and unsettling.
On a final note, I was first exposed to the Castlevania series by YouTuber James Rolfe and I have to parrot one of his takes. This first game was so evocative of classic, gothic horror that it very much reminds me of old Hammer horror movies. I can't help but feel it's a shame (though true to the original Japanese intention, I suppose) that Castlevania projects are now always tied to an anime aesthetic.
1992
The Metroid series is often praised for the lonely atmosphere it creates but, as much as I like Metroid, none of the games can hold a candle to Ecco the Dolphin.
The game sees you take control of the eponymous Ecco, tasked with exploring a labyrinthine, underwater world to rescue the rest of his dolphin pod. The opening cutscene of Ecco's pod being raided and kidnapped by extra terrestrials makes for a terrifying start to the game and it remains tense and uncomfortable (at least it did when I was a kid) thanks to the isolating music and scary, menacing underwater world you need to explore. The waters are full of frightening creatures: sharks, giant octopi and other nasties of the deep. And then there's the final boss. Don't get me started on that thing...it was nightmare fuel for any kid who was actually able to reach it.
For context, Ecco seemed like a totally ubiquitous game in the early '90s, it felt like EVERYONE owned this game. It seems odd that it would be so popular considering it's premise but the '90s also gave us Free Willy and Flipper. Aquatic mammals were all the rage, I guess.
Ultimately, Ecco might have an admirably claustrophobic atmosphere but it plays terribly. You'll need to find pockets of air regularly or else Ecco will drown, which adds tension but slows the game down horribly. Along with this central issue, Ecco the Dolphin also suffers from confusing level layouts and atrociously implemented environmental puzzles that seem to require pixel-precision movements to solve. Simply but it's just not that much fun. However, the game left a mark on my psyche nonetheless so I'm offering up a very generous review as payment for the childhood nightmares.
The game sees you take control of the eponymous Ecco, tasked with exploring a labyrinthine, underwater world to rescue the rest of his dolphin pod. The opening cutscene of Ecco's pod being raided and kidnapped by extra terrestrials makes for a terrifying start to the game and it remains tense and uncomfortable (at least it did when I was a kid) thanks to the isolating music and scary, menacing underwater world you need to explore. The waters are full of frightening creatures: sharks, giant octopi and other nasties of the deep. And then there's the final boss. Don't get me started on that thing...it was nightmare fuel for any kid who was actually able to reach it.
For context, Ecco seemed like a totally ubiquitous game in the early '90s, it felt like EVERYONE owned this game. It seems odd that it would be so popular considering it's premise but the '90s also gave us Free Willy and Flipper. Aquatic mammals were all the rage, I guess.
Ultimately, Ecco might have an admirably claustrophobic atmosphere but it plays terribly. You'll need to find pockets of air regularly or else Ecco will drown, which adds tension but slows the game down horribly. Along with this central issue, Ecco the Dolphin also suffers from confusing level layouts and atrociously implemented environmental puzzles that seem to require pixel-precision movements to solve. Simply but it's just not that much fun. However, the game left a mark on my psyche nonetheless so I'm offering up a very generous review as payment for the childhood nightmares.
2016
The Witness is a devilishly simple game. Taking place on a luscious, deserted island, you're tasked with exploring and solving a seemingly never-ending series of maze-like panel puzzles where the goal is simply to draw a line from A to B, meeting certain criteria in the process. The premise is simple and it's addictively fun.
Crucially, none of the puzzle parameters are ever explained. It's entirely on you to play around and make sense of the increasingly complicated mechanics, sometimes through sheer brute force as you try possible solution after possible solution. That is, though, what makes The Witness so fulfilling to play; that feeling of discovery and conquest feels totally earned when you find and finish a new area of puzzles without any help from the game whatsoever.
Not every mechanic works though. Most are based on logical thinking (like drawing a line from A to B while dividing squares by colour, for example) but there's a string of sound-based puzzles where you have to interpret bird calls and map them to a route through puzzle panels. I found these sections to be a nightmare but they didn't ruin the game.
For context, I actually played The Witness as a couch co-op game. Me and my best friend threw out possible solutions to each other, scrawling out the puzzles madly with paper and pencils. I think it's probably the best way to play and experience the game because it makes those 'Eureka!' moments, where you finally crack a tricky puzzle, all the more satisfying because you've got someone to share the victory with.
Crucially, none of the puzzle parameters are ever explained. It's entirely on you to play around and make sense of the increasingly complicated mechanics, sometimes through sheer brute force as you try possible solution after possible solution. That is, though, what makes The Witness so fulfilling to play; that feeling of discovery and conquest feels totally earned when you find and finish a new area of puzzles without any help from the game whatsoever.
Not every mechanic works though. Most are based on logical thinking (like drawing a line from A to B while dividing squares by colour, for example) but there's a string of sound-based puzzles where you have to interpret bird calls and map them to a route through puzzle panels. I found these sections to be a nightmare but they didn't ruin the game.
For context, I actually played The Witness as a couch co-op game. Me and my best friend threw out possible solutions to each other, scrawling out the puzzles madly with paper and pencils. I think it's probably the best way to play and experience the game because it makes those 'Eureka!' moments, where you finally crack a tricky puzzle, all the more satisfying because you've got someone to share the victory with.
1992
By just about every metric Sonic the Hedgehog 2 is a superior game to it's predecessor. This is the game where SEGA leaned into Sonic's speed and cut out a lot of the clunkier gimmicks and design elements that slow down parts of Sonic 1. Thanks to the new, genius spin dash mechanic and the vast, multi-layered levels (with lots of thrilling ramps and loop-de-loops that aid in building momentum), the game feels satisfyingly fast to blast through.
Despite the emphasis on speed, there's a real sophistication in the way Sonic 2's levels are constructed. The best of the game's levels have multiple branching paths, with each level's upper route generally being shorter and easier than it's lower route. You can see this design philosophy really come to life in Aquatic Ruin Zone, for example. Skilled players can avoid the watery sections entirely by taking the upper route but are punishing for any missteps they make as they descend down to the more punishing underwater segments. It's Sonic level design at it's best and it begs the player to replay the game to find the optimal path through each level.
The run of levels, starting with Emerald Hill and ending with Mystic Cave, is unbelievably fun and the peak of the game. My only gripe is that I always felt it dropped off slightly and descended into an anti-climax towards the end. Sky Chase through to the end of the game is a bit of a slog, particularly when replaying the game, but the majority of the levels are top notch.
The brighter, bolder graphics feel like a step up from the first game and I think the soundtrack is better too. There are no misses, every tune is great. The addition of some little extras (a second playable character, a nice little competition mode, a treat for collecting all of the chaos emeralds) is just the cherry on top. In short, it's a textbook example of how to make a good sequel.
Despite the emphasis on speed, there's a real sophistication in the way Sonic 2's levels are constructed. The best of the game's levels have multiple branching paths, with each level's upper route generally being shorter and easier than it's lower route. You can see this design philosophy really come to life in Aquatic Ruin Zone, for example. Skilled players can avoid the watery sections entirely by taking the upper route but are punishing for any missteps they make as they descend down to the more punishing underwater segments. It's Sonic level design at it's best and it begs the player to replay the game to find the optimal path through each level.
The run of levels, starting with Emerald Hill and ending with Mystic Cave, is unbelievably fun and the peak of the game. My only gripe is that I always felt it dropped off slightly and descended into an anti-climax towards the end. Sky Chase through to the end of the game is a bit of a slog, particularly when replaying the game, but the majority of the levels are top notch.
The brighter, bolder graphics feel like a step up from the first game and I think the soundtrack is better too. There are no misses, every tune is great. The addition of some little extras (a second playable character, a nice little competition mode, a treat for collecting all of the chaos emeralds) is just the cherry on top. In short, it's a textbook example of how to make a good sequel.
I played this game because, as a fan of cheesy sci-fi B-movies, it boasted an aesthetic that I've never seen a game explore before. Visually, The Deadly Tower of Monsters does a wonderful job of recreating the feel of an Ed Wood-style production because it's full of enemies in terrible costumes, enemies who fly onto the screen aided by some easy-to-spot string and enemies who move in stop motion. Some of the visuals really hit the spot and the game hits a homerun when it comes to emulating that low budget movie feel.
The central conceit of The Deadly Tower of Monsters is that you're watching a director provide a DVD commentary over his own movie and, it has to be said, the writing is actually quite funny. The fact that the voiceover DOESN'T get annoying is a welcome surprise, it's fun.
Beyond all of that window dressing though, there's not much more to it. This is a game that nails it in terms of the art directions but falls flat in terms of the gameplay. It's a basic Diablo clone with extremely repetitive combat and no other game mechanics to speak of. The combat isn't particularly impactful and gets pretty boring, which is a shame because the style alone screams potential. It's a nice looking game but it needed a bit of extra spice in the gameplay department.
The central conceit of The Deadly Tower of Monsters is that you're watching a director provide a DVD commentary over his own movie and, it has to be said, the writing is actually quite funny. The fact that the voiceover DOESN'T get annoying is a welcome surprise, it's fun.
Beyond all of that window dressing though, there's not much more to it. This is a game that nails it in terms of the art directions but falls flat in terms of the gameplay. It's a basic Diablo clone with extremely repetitive combat and no other game mechanics to speak of. The combat isn't particularly impactful and gets pretty boring, which is a shame because the style alone screams potential. It's a nice looking game but it needed a bit of extra spice in the gameplay department.
1991
Sonic the Hedgehog (the game, not necessarily the character) feels like a lost relic from the past.
Sonic games are known for their blistering speed but Sonic 1 only allows players to experience high-speed gameplay in bitesize chunks, sandwiched between slower zones that require more precision platforming and patience. It's an approach later Sonic games would stray away from, for better or for worse.
Sonic the Hedgehog kind of peaks immediately. Green Hill Zone is a summery playground that lets players get to grips with everything Sonic can do. Sonic's momentum is showcased wonderfully as you're encouraged to reach (and maintain) a fast-paced run to make it through the level's now iconic loop-de-loops. Most of the other levels, however, have significantly more sedated moments.
I think the worst offender may be Spring Yard Zone. There's a few moments where, when ascending moving platforms, you just have to wait around for a gap to let you move from platform to platform. It feels like padding and brings the game to an immediate halt. Marble Zone and Labyrinth Zone are often pilloried for their lack of speed but I think that's a little unfair. Not all 'slower' sections are just slow for the sake of it and I enjoy the tense challenge of Labyrinth's sluggish underwater movement and Marble's moderately challenging platforming.
I've played the likes of Marble Zone and Labyrinth Zone enough to have a soft spot for them but I can empathise with younger fans who might visit this first instalment and wonder what all the initial hype was about (this game was, after all, highly acclaimed on release) because I do prefer the pace of the game's sequels.
Even if we admit that the Sonic formula needed a little refining, this is still a brilliant starting point. Sonic controls so smoothly, the kooky graphics paint a world that's fun to explore and the soundtrack is one of the Mega Drive's best. There's so much to appreciate here if you don't get hung up on the game's weaker moments.
Sonic games are known for their blistering speed but Sonic 1 only allows players to experience high-speed gameplay in bitesize chunks, sandwiched between slower zones that require more precision platforming and patience. It's an approach later Sonic games would stray away from, for better or for worse.
Sonic the Hedgehog kind of peaks immediately. Green Hill Zone is a summery playground that lets players get to grips with everything Sonic can do. Sonic's momentum is showcased wonderfully as you're encouraged to reach (and maintain) a fast-paced run to make it through the level's now iconic loop-de-loops. Most of the other levels, however, have significantly more sedated moments.
I think the worst offender may be Spring Yard Zone. There's a few moments where, when ascending moving platforms, you just have to wait around for a gap to let you move from platform to platform. It feels like padding and brings the game to an immediate halt. Marble Zone and Labyrinth Zone are often pilloried for their lack of speed but I think that's a little unfair. Not all 'slower' sections are just slow for the sake of it and I enjoy the tense challenge of Labyrinth's sluggish underwater movement and Marble's moderately challenging platforming.
I've played the likes of Marble Zone and Labyrinth Zone enough to have a soft spot for them but I can empathise with younger fans who might visit this first instalment and wonder what all the initial hype was about (this game was, after all, highly acclaimed on release) because I do prefer the pace of the game's sequels.
Even if we admit that the Sonic formula needed a little refining, this is still a brilliant starting point. Sonic controls so smoothly, the kooky graphics paint a world that's fun to explore and the soundtrack is one of the Mega Drive's best. There's so much to appreciate here if you don't get hung up on the game's weaker moments.