Erockthestrange
2000
"What the fuck?" said every Super Mario RPG fan circa the year 2000. Although I was too young at the time to share their befuddled disappointment, I understand that this was the sentiment with every SMRPG fan during the announcement of Paper Mario. In retrospect, I can't say I blame them. Of all the styles that could separate the aesthetic of the Mario RPG games from the main series games, why paper of all things? It probably didn't help that the project was called Paper Mario right from the get-go as if Nintendo was so confident in the stylistic choice that they wanted people to know it, putting it on full display. I guess I can admire them for their confidence, despite it making every fan skeptical.
Fortunately, I got to base my preconceived notions of this game on already playing through The Thousand-Year Door. The sequel to Paper Mario became one of my all-time favorites initially during my first playthrough of it. My experience with The Thousand-Year Door
made me quite excited to go back and play the first Paper Mario. For the most part, the first game delivered on the same quality as its sequel despite a couple of negative aspects that the sequel fixed. I liked The Thousand-Year Door much more than this game for many years, most likely because I played it first, and it was the much more polished game with snappier dialogue and more advantageous use of the paper style of the series. However, after playing both of these games back-to-back, I'm having trouble deciding which of these two games is better. The Thousand-Year Door may have more polish and style, but the first Paper Mario may be the essential Mario experience.
Like most other Mario experiences, it starts with Bowser kidnapping Peach. He crashes an extravagant party Peach is hosting in her castle. The surprise is that Bowser has somehow stacked Peach's castle onto his own beneath the ground, violently unearthing and raising it above the skies. Bowser's new trick is the star rod, a powerful artifact he stole that grants him invulnerability. He displays this to its full extent when he blasts Mario out of the window of Peach's castle, and Mario dies. No, really, Mario dies at the beginning of this game after failing to defeat Bowser. It's not a spoiler because it happens right at the beginning. The seven Star Spirits that guard the star rod resurrect Mario and their physical forms are scattered all over the Mushroom Kingdom. Mario has to rescue all of them, giving Mario their collective power to defeat Bowser once he does this. Sound familiar? That's about the extent of Paper Mario being a direct sequel to SMRPG.
The methods behind the RPG combat between SMRPG and Paper Mario couldn't be any more different. SMRPG's mission was to translate the Mario universe into the RPG genre, sharing similar qualities to most RPGs of the time. Conversely, Paper Mario's direction is to translate RPG elements that fit the Mario franchise more appropriately. I wouldn't consider any Mario game easy, but the franchise has always been comparatively more accessible than its contemporaries across any genre. The focal point of the Mario franchise is accessibility which most RPG games shy away from to maintain their niche appeal. Accessibility in gaming doesn't always have to be synonymous with banality and patronizing to the player. Paper Mario's more streamlined approach to RPG combat has given it a unique system unlike any other RPG game before or after it. Mario and his selected partner will stand on the left side of a stage-like setting with a general background representing the area. The enemies will be on the right side with an appropriate space between both parties. Mario has a selection of a jump attack, hammer attack, item selection, star powers, and tactics. Any amount of damage Mario does to enemies can be counted on all fingers, same with the damage the enemies will do to Mario (god help you on the rare occasions that an enemy can do more harm than that). The numbers in Paper Mario coinciding with statistics never surpass grade school arithmetic. This elementary range of numbers most likely wasn't done with a specifically young audience to cater to, but rather to hold the standard of Mario's worldwide appeal to a large demographic of gamers. The heart of the Paper Mario combat system lies in the action command. Pressing the A button at precise moments in combat will warrant extra damage. Blocking will decrease the damage Mario takes as well. Using the hammer requires pulling back on the control stick and releasing it at a certain point to damage the enemy. The moves partners can use require the same amount of precision and unique button combinations to execute them. It's a simple system, alright, but combat in Paper Mario is much more interactive than picking an attack or other tactic in a standard RPG.
Paper Mario also upholds a more straightforward method of RPG progression. When Mario defeats an enemy, they leave behind star points which act as experience points. Once Mario acquires 100 of these, he'll level up and get a choice to increase his health, SP, and BP by three to five. Health is self-explanatory, and SP coincides with Mario's unique attack gauge. BP relates to badge points. Badges are perks Mario acquires in the game that can either be found, bought, or traded for star pieces. They vary in use as some of them are new jump/hammer moves, increase Mario's offense or defense, and some are just for the novelty. Players have the choice to increase any of these stats any way they choose, with some opting for a balanced Paper Mario experience and some opting to only raise one stat over the others. Many experienced players usually challenge themselves by only raising BP and SP over their health, becoming a powerhouse with badge abilities while being more cautious of taking damage. A game that intentionally makes for a more accessible, streamlined RPG experience, level progression, and scaling is still as refreshing and customizable as any other RPG. Paper Mario's RPG initiative is simple and even like an RPG metric system.
At the beginning of the game, Mario ventures off the beaten path to find a quaint little house owned by a family of Goombas. The young son of this family, Goombario, is a giant fan of Mario who ecstatically joins Mario on his quest to fulfill one of his dreams. This sequence introduces one of my absolute favorite aspects of the Paper Mario series: partners. Throughout the game, several partners join Mario with their unique attributes to aid Mario during combat and solve puzzles to get through the areas of the Mushroom Kingdom. These partners are slightly more anthropomorphic/domesticated versions of Mario enemies from the original Mario games (ex. Parakarry the Parakoopa and Bow the Boo). During combat, the partners will take one turn and Mario to attack or debuff the enemy. Goombario will bounce on enemies with his skull, similar to Mario's jump ability. Kooper the Koopa will fling his body/shell at an entire row of enemies. Bombette, the Bob-omb explodes near enemies for massive damage. Bow the Boo bitch slaps enemies and can hide Mario and make him incorporeal during combat to protect him. Watt (of which I am uncertain which Mario creature she's supposed to be) can paralyze enemies with her electric body, Sushie squirts water at enemies, and Lakilester/Spike can throw spinies at enemies. While all of these partners are useful due to their uniqueness, my favorite of the bunch is Parakarry. He's a Parakoopa mailman whose powerful, one-target attacks make for every boss's worst nightmare. The partners also have unique moves that help Mario traverse the game's overworld. Parakarry can lift Mario for a brief period to help him get over gaps, Bombette can uncover hidden areas by blowing up cracks in walls, Watt illuminates dark rooms, Sushie can swim, etc. The only partner that feels underutilized in both combat and overworld-aid is Lakilester. He's the last partner introduced, and it's way too late in the game. His ability to hover over hazards is useful a few times, and it's more than likely that most players won't upgrade him fully due to the more familiar partners holding precedence over him. Riding around on his cloud like it's a two-seated bicycle is amusing, however.
The partner aspect of this game feels so refreshing because it indicates how Paper Mario improves on the already established world of the Mushroom Kingdom and the typical Mario experience. The residents of the Mushroom Kingdom aren't just faceless pawns that Mario scrapes off the bottom of his boots. The thing that most separates the partners from the NPCs scattered around the game is a single distinguishable feature like a hat or a different color (ex. Kooper is blue and Goombario has a blue hat). However, the typical enemies in this game are still Goombas, Koopas, etc. Pondering this may lead to many questions about the different races and class dynamics in the Mushroom Kingdom, which might verge into dicey, socio-political territory. The Shy Guys seem to be the only Mario enemy that is still a race of savages in this civilized Mario world.
As characters, the partners are still a bit underwhelming. Giving a character a different color or putting a simple hat on them and calling that an improvement is indicative of the lack of character depth the Mario series has. Kooper, Watt, and Parakarry are as flat and wooden as characters like ironed pieces of cardboard. Other characters have interesting personalities, but these characteristics start to dissipate after joining Mario's team. Bow, for instance, is a self-important diva, naturally so due to her aristocratic status. She is bull-headed and brash, taking no nonsense from anyone. Once her introduction chapter ends, she never exudes these personality traits again. This happens with all of the other partners that started as unique characters. I can probably fault this to Paper Mario keeping Mario as a silent protagonist in the main series. He doesn't even utter squabbles like "let's a-go!" either. The RPG is a very dialogue-heavy game genre, and there is plenty of dialogue in Paper Mario. Most dialogue is spoken at Mario and his partners rather than a discourse between two or more characters. Once the more discernable NPCs become Mario partners, they zip their lips and seldom utter a single word, almost as if Mario is forcing them to shut up. The only exception to this is Goombario whose ability is to offer observations about areas and scenarios. Sometimes, I would travel around with him to hear his input because he's the only party member that gives it.
I also feel that referring to these playable buddies as "partners" feels a tad inappropriate. The word partners connote even importance and equality between two or more people. It's incredibly evident that the partner characters are only here to support Mario to a fault. Their subdued interactions in the dialogue already illustrate this, but it's even more apparent in combat. Unlike Mario, every partner only has two options: attacking and switching each other out for another partner. They share the SP gauge with Mario, but they don't have their health bars. Enemies will only attack Mario, and for the rare occurrences when a partner is hit, they are immobilized for a few turns. They can't use items, run away, active star power, etc. Given their roles in combat and the overworld, Mario uses these characters that should have more involvement and depth as a "Mario enemy swiss-army knife." It's a shame, considering the potential all of these partners could've had.
After beating the prologue, Mario arrives back in the Mushroom Kingdom, or at least the central area. Like the main series, the entirety of the Mushroom Kingdom is a geographically diverse place consisting of wetlands, deserts, islands, and snowy mountains. Maybe the Mushroom Kingdom has a history of imperialism like a certain other Kingdom in the real world. The hub-world of Paper Mario feels like it should be more significant than it is, considering it seems like the capital of this gigantic land, but maybe the limitations of the N64 prevented it from appearing massive as it could've been. However, it does fit the quaint look and tone of this game, which might have been intentional. The hub world is filled with Toads filling their roles in this society as cooks, store owners, and even martial arts directors. The hub-world feels cozy and lived-in, and it's precisely what I wanted in terms of experiencing arguably the most well-known video game setting in history.
As for the other places in the game, many of them follow the standard platformer, "fire world, desert world, field world, ice world" level dynamic of the main series games. Like the hub world, Paper Mario finds ways to flesh out these archetypical levels with charm and nuance. The first chapter reminds me of the first world of Super Mario Bros. 3. A grassy field seems to be the standard for Mario games to introduce players to each game. This field leads to Mario finding an ashy, grey fortress where the first boss is located, similar to the fortress levels in Super Mario Bros. 3. The desert level is undoubtedly a staple of the Mario series. The most notable is World 2 of Super Mario Bros. 3, with the angry sun stalking Mario in half of the levels. Instead of an angry sun, there's a buzzard hired by Bowser to stop Mario that you can avoid by lying to him that you're not Mario (did I mention that this game is also funny as well?), a desert outpost populated by Toads wearing burkas, fortune tellers, and masked thieves (getting more socio-political, eh Paper Mario?). There is a vast empty wasteland of sand that's easy to get lost in (and is probably the most cryptic and annoying part in the game) that leads to a labyrinthian tomb where you fight the final boss of the chapter. The desert chapter is probably my least favorite chapter in the game, but the setting and pacing of the chapter are still fully realized. The game even goes to great lengths to give depth to spinoff Mario franchises relatively removed from the mainline series. Chapter 5 takes place on a tropical island filled with Yoshis, inspired by Super Mario World 2 and the Yoshi spinoffs. The island is comprised of Yoshis living in a society governed like a tribe of natives. They have a spiritual leader that speaks of artifacts and lore surrounding the island as if this civilization of Yoshis is hundreds of years old. The amount of depth presented here is surprising for a Mario game.
My favorite chapter is the third one which involves saving a village of Boos from a seemingly indestructible monster named Tubba Blubba. He seems like an imposing force, and the stealth sections in his castle are an exciting touch to the direction of this game. His weakness is his heart which resides at the bottom of a dark well in the village, which is borderline "The Telltale Heart," the terrible secret kept hidden under the proverbial floorboards that make the villain vulnerable. The most unorthodox chapter in this game is the Shy Guy's Toybox hidden underneath the hub-world. It's a sub-society run by Shy Guys that functions off of stealing the items of the townsfolk of the Mushroom Kingdom. The Shy Guys travel by toy train and work for a dictator who rides around in a model tank. Oh, he's only a general, you say? Don't be so naive; I know a fascist fearmonger when I see one. Those Shy Guys are starving.
This game makes the best use of the RPG genre in a Mario setting with developing the world and characters of Mario to their fullest potential, but why paper? Does this aesthetic prove useless? I think it's funny that the final boss of the first chapter is a crappy paper mache Bowser, and there are some puzzles and platforming sections that use the mechanic. After playing both Paper Mario and its sequel sequentially, I noticed that this game consistently gave me a warm, fluttery feeling due to its aesthetic, music, and presentation. Paper Mario is like playing through a child's bedtime story and is presented like one. This game is equivalent to a hug from your mom or curling up with a hot tea and blanket by a fireplace. As lame as that sounds, the coziness of this game matched with all of the elements of its foundation tap into an intimately emotional place that no other game has. Once Bowser is defeated, the ending screen is Mario and Peach watching a distant fireworks show, accompanied by a tender lullaby track that always gets me a little choked up. It's a deserving, bittersweet end to an epic journey.
Much to the chagrin of every SMPRG fanboy, the first Paper Mario is the essential Mario RPG. The in-depth Mario experience realizes the potential of the characters and settings of the Mushroom Kingdom that every gamer is familiar with. It's also a unique RPG due to its simplified but invigorating combat system. Paper may have seemed like a strange design choice, but it proves to be masterful in presenting not only what looked like a children's storybook but one that has the snug feeling of one as well. It's the most extraordinary tale the Mushroom Kingdom has ever told.
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Attribution: https://erockreviews.blogspot.com/
Fortunately, I got to base my preconceived notions of this game on already playing through The Thousand-Year Door. The sequel to Paper Mario became one of my all-time favorites initially during my first playthrough of it. My experience with The Thousand-Year Door
made me quite excited to go back and play the first Paper Mario. For the most part, the first game delivered on the same quality as its sequel despite a couple of negative aspects that the sequel fixed. I liked The Thousand-Year Door much more than this game for many years, most likely because I played it first, and it was the much more polished game with snappier dialogue and more advantageous use of the paper style of the series. However, after playing both of these games back-to-back, I'm having trouble deciding which of these two games is better. The Thousand-Year Door may have more polish and style, but the first Paper Mario may be the essential Mario experience.
Like most other Mario experiences, it starts with Bowser kidnapping Peach. He crashes an extravagant party Peach is hosting in her castle. The surprise is that Bowser has somehow stacked Peach's castle onto his own beneath the ground, violently unearthing and raising it above the skies. Bowser's new trick is the star rod, a powerful artifact he stole that grants him invulnerability. He displays this to its full extent when he blasts Mario out of the window of Peach's castle, and Mario dies. No, really, Mario dies at the beginning of this game after failing to defeat Bowser. It's not a spoiler because it happens right at the beginning. The seven Star Spirits that guard the star rod resurrect Mario and their physical forms are scattered all over the Mushroom Kingdom. Mario has to rescue all of them, giving Mario their collective power to defeat Bowser once he does this. Sound familiar? That's about the extent of Paper Mario being a direct sequel to SMRPG.
The methods behind the RPG combat between SMRPG and Paper Mario couldn't be any more different. SMRPG's mission was to translate the Mario universe into the RPG genre, sharing similar qualities to most RPGs of the time. Conversely, Paper Mario's direction is to translate RPG elements that fit the Mario franchise more appropriately. I wouldn't consider any Mario game easy, but the franchise has always been comparatively more accessible than its contemporaries across any genre. The focal point of the Mario franchise is accessibility which most RPG games shy away from to maintain their niche appeal. Accessibility in gaming doesn't always have to be synonymous with banality and patronizing to the player. Paper Mario's more streamlined approach to RPG combat has given it a unique system unlike any other RPG game before or after it. Mario and his selected partner will stand on the left side of a stage-like setting with a general background representing the area. The enemies will be on the right side with an appropriate space between both parties. Mario has a selection of a jump attack, hammer attack, item selection, star powers, and tactics. Any amount of damage Mario does to enemies can be counted on all fingers, same with the damage the enemies will do to Mario (god help you on the rare occasions that an enemy can do more harm than that). The numbers in Paper Mario coinciding with statistics never surpass grade school arithmetic. This elementary range of numbers most likely wasn't done with a specifically young audience to cater to, but rather to hold the standard of Mario's worldwide appeal to a large demographic of gamers. The heart of the Paper Mario combat system lies in the action command. Pressing the A button at precise moments in combat will warrant extra damage. Blocking will decrease the damage Mario takes as well. Using the hammer requires pulling back on the control stick and releasing it at a certain point to damage the enemy. The moves partners can use require the same amount of precision and unique button combinations to execute them. It's a simple system, alright, but combat in Paper Mario is much more interactive than picking an attack or other tactic in a standard RPG.
Paper Mario also upholds a more straightforward method of RPG progression. When Mario defeats an enemy, they leave behind star points which act as experience points. Once Mario acquires 100 of these, he'll level up and get a choice to increase his health, SP, and BP by three to five. Health is self-explanatory, and SP coincides with Mario's unique attack gauge. BP relates to badge points. Badges are perks Mario acquires in the game that can either be found, bought, or traded for star pieces. They vary in use as some of them are new jump/hammer moves, increase Mario's offense or defense, and some are just for the novelty. Players have the choice to increase any of these stats any way they choose, with some opting for a balanced Paper Mario experience and some opting to only raise one stat over the others. Many experienced players usually challenge themselves by only raising BP and SP over their health, becoming a powerhouse with badge abilities while being more cautious of taking damage. A game that intentionally makes for a more accessible, streamlined RPG experience, level progression, and scaling is still as refreshing and customizable as any other RPG. Paper Mario's RPG initiative is simple and even like an RPG metric system.
At the beginning of the game, Mario ventures off the beaten path to find a quaint little house owned by a family of Goombas. The young son of this family, Goombario, is a giant fan of Mario who ecstatically joins Mario on his quest to fulfill one of his dreams. This sequence introduces one of my absolute favorite aspects of the Paper Mario series: partners. Throughout the game, several partners join Mario with their unique attributes to aid Mario during combat and solve puzzles to get through the areas of the Mushroom Kingdom. These partners are slightly more anthropomorphic/domesticated versions of Mario enemies from the original Mario games (ex. Parakarry the Parakoopa and Bow the Boo). During combat, the partners will take one turn and Mario to attack or debuff the enemy. Goombario will bounce on enemies with his skull, similar to Mario's jump ability. Kooper the Koopa will fling his body/shell at an entire row of enemies. Bombette, the Bob-omb explodes near enemies for massive damage. Bow the Boo bitch slaps enemies and can hide Mario and make him incorporeal during combat to protect him. Watt (of which I am uncertain which Mario creature she's supposed to be) can paralyze enemies with her electric body, Sushie squirts water at enemies, and Lakilester/Spike can throw spinies at enemies. While all of these partners are useful due to their uniqueness, my favorite of the bunch is Parakarry. He's a Parakoopa mailman whose powerful, one-target attacks make for every boss's worst nightmare. The partners also have unique moves that help Mario traverse the game's overworld. Parakarry can lift Mario for a brief period to help him get over gaps, Bombette can uncover hidden areas by blowing up cracks in walls, Watt illuminates dark rooms, Sushie can swim, etc. The only partner that feels underutilized in both combat and overworld-aid is Lakilester. He's the last partner introduced, and it's way too late in the game. His ability to hover over hazards is useful a few times, and it's more than likely that most players won't upgrade him fully due to the more familiar partners holding precedence over him. Riding around on his cloud like it's a two-seated bicycle is amusing, however.
The partner aspect of this game feels so refreshing because it indicates how Paper Mario improves on the already established world of the Mushroom Kingdom and the typical Mario experience. The residents of the Mushroom Kingdom aren't just faceless pawns that Mario scrapes off the bottom of his boots. The thing that most separates the partners from the NPCs scattered around the game is a single distinguishable feature like a hat or a different color (ex. Kooper is blue and Goombario has a blue hat). However, the typical enemies in this game are still Goombas, Koopas, etc. Pondering this may lead to many questions about the different races and class dynamics in the Mushroom Kingdom, which might verge into dicey, socio-political territory. The Shy Guys seem to be the only Mario enemy that is still a race of savages in this civilized Mario world.
As characters, the partners are still a bit underwhelming. Giving a character a different color or putting a simple hat on them and calling that an improvement is indicative of the lack of character depth the Mario series has. Kooper, Watt, and Parakarry are as flat and wooden as characters like ironed pieces of cardboard. Other characters have interesting personalities, but these characteristics start to dissipate after joining Mario's team. Bow, for instance, is a self-important diva, naturally so due to her aristocratic status. She is bull-headed and brash, taking no nonsense from anyone. Once her introduction chapter ends, she never exudes these personality traits again. This happens with all of the other partners that started as unique characters. I can probably fault this to Paper Mario keeping Mario as a silent protagonist in the main series. He doesn't even utter squabbles like "let's a-go!" either. The RPG is a very dialogue-heavy game genre, and there is plenty of dialogue in Paper Mario. Most dialogue is spoken at Mario and his partners rather than a discourse between two or more characters. Once the more discernable NPCs become Mario partners, they zip their lips and seldom utter a single word, almost as if Mario is forcing them to shut up. The only exception to this is Goombario whose ability is to offer observations about areas and scenarios. Sometimes, I would travel around with him to hear his input because he's the only party member that gives it.
I also feel that referring to these playable buddies as "partners" feels a tad inappropriate. The word partners connote even importance and equality between two or more people. It's incredibly evident that the partner characters are only here to support Mario to a fault. Their subdued interactions in the dialogue already illustrate this, but it's even more apparent in combat. Unlike Mario, every partner only has two options: attacking and switching each other out for another partner. They share the SP gauge with Mario, but they don't have their health bars. Enemies will only attack Mario, and for the rare occurrences when a partner is hit, they are immobilized for a few turns. They can't use items, run away, active star power, etc. Given their roles in combat and the overworld, Mario uses these characters that should have more involvement and depth as a "Mario enemy swiss-army knife." It's a shame, considering the potential all of these partners could've had.
After beating the prologue, Mario arrives back in the Mushroom Kingdom, or at least the central area. Like the main series, the entirety of the Mushroom Kingdom is a geographically diverse place consisting of wetlands, deserts, islands, and snowy mountains. Maybe the Mushroom Kingdom has a history of imperialism like a certain other Kingdom in the real world. The hub-world of Paper Mario feels like it should be more significant than it is, considering it seems like the capital of this gigantic land, but maybe the limitations of the N64 prevented it from appearing massive as it could've been. However, it does fit the quaint look and tone of this game, which might have been intentional. The hub world is filled with Toads filling their roles in this society as cooks, store owners, and even martial arts directors. The hub-world feels cozy and lived-in, and it's precisely what I wanted in terms of experiencing arguably the most well-known video game setting in history.
As for the other places in the game, many of them follow the standard platformer, "fire world, desert world, field world, ice world" level dynamic of the main series games. Like the hub world, Paper Mario finds ways to flesh out these archetypical levels with charm and nuance. The first chapter reminds me of the first world of Super Mario Bros. 3. A grassy field seems to be the standard for Mario games to introduce players to each game. This field leads to Mario finding an ashy, grey fortress where the first boss is located, similar to the fortress levels in Super Mario Bros. 3. The desert level is undoubtedly a staple of the Mario series. The most notable is World 2 of Super Mario Bros. 3, with the angry sun stalking Mario in half of the levels. Instead of an angry sun, there's a buzzard hired by Bowser to stop Mario that you can avoid by lying to him that you're not Mario (did I mention that this game is also funny as well?), a desert outpost populated by Toads wearing burkas, fortune tellers, and masked thieves (getting more socio-political, eh Paper Mario?). There is a vast empty wasteland of sand that's easy to get lost in (and is probably the most cryptic and annoying part in the game) that leads to a labyrinthian tomb where you fight the final boss of the chapter. The desert chapter is probably my least favorite chapter in the game, but the setting and pacing of the chapter are still fully realized. The game even goes to great lengths to give depth to spinoff Mario franchises relatively removed from the mainline series. Chapter 5 takes place on a tropical island filled with Yoshis, inspired by Super Mario World 2 and the Yoshi spinoffs. The island is comprised of Yoshis living in a society governed like a tribe of natives. They have a spiritual leader that speaks of artifacts and lore surrounding the island as if this civilization of Yoshis is hundreds of years old. The amount of depth presented here is surprising for a Mario game.
My favorite chapter is the third one which involves saving a village of Boos from a seemingly indestructible monster named Tubba Blubba. He seems like an imposing force, and the stealth sections in his castle are an exciting touch to the direction of this game. His weakness is his heart which resides at the bottom of a dark well in the village, which is borderline "The Telltale Heart," the terrible secret kept hidden under the proverbial floorboards that make the villain vulnerable. The most unorthodox chapter in this game is the Shy Guy's Toybox hidden underneath the hub-world. It's a sub-society run by Shy Guys that functions off of stealing the items of the townsfolk of the Mushroom Kingdom. The Shy Guys travel by toy train and work for a dictator who rides around in a model tank. Oh, he's only a general, you say? Don't be so naive; I know a fascist fearmonger when I see one. Those Shy Guys are starving.
This game makes the best use of the RPG genre in a Mario setting with developing the world and characters of Mario to their fullest potential, but why paper? Does this aesthetic prove useless? I think it's funny that the final boss of the first chapter is a crappy paper mache Bowser, and there are some puzzles and platforming sections that use the mechanic. After playing both Paper Mario and its sequel sequentially, I noticed that this game consistently gave me a warm, fluttery feeling due to its aesthetic, music, and presentation. Paper Mario is like playing through a child's bedtime story and is presented like one. This game is equivalent to a hug from your mom or curling up with a hot tea and blanket by a fireplace. As lame as that sounds, the coziness of this game matched with all of the elements of its foundation tap into an intimately emotional place that no other game has. Once Bowser is defeated, the ending screen is Mario and Peach watching a distant fireworks show, accompanied by a tender lullaby track that always gets me a little choked up. It's a deserving, bittersweet end to an epic journey.
Much to the chagrin of every SMPRG fanboy, the first Paper Mario is the essential Mario RPG. The in-depth Mario experience realizes the potential of the characters and settings of the Mushroom Kingdom that every gamer is familiar with. It's also a unique RPG due to its simplified but invigorating combat system. Paper may have seemed like a strange design choice, but it proves to be masterful in presenting not only what looked like a children's storybook but one that has the snug feeling of one as well. It's the most extraordinary tale the Mushroom Kingdom has ever told.
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Attribution: https://erockreviews.blogspot.com/
2003
The initial reaction to this game by most gaming journalists at the time was a lukewarm one. The one-button control scheme this game offered was scoffed at and ridiculed. They treated it like it was the Gamecube racing game for the sad bastard who thought the difficulty curb of Mario Kart was too difficult. However, I have fond memories of this game as I do with most games I had when I was a kid, so my perception of this game is tinted with the bittersweet dust of nostalgia.
This was Kirby's only game on the cube and it was also his first outing in a racing game. You control various shades of the puffball and ride on a myriad of star machines. Most of the machines were competent vehicles, but some were utter garbage. They tried really hard to make every machine as unique as possible, but some unique crutches of the machines were too much. For a game that relishes a one-button control scheme, the balance wasn't the main selling point. There are about 6 good machines out of 15. There was one-star machine I despised that looked like a purple bar of soap and slipped around like one too. Imagine while you're playing Mario Kart your cart makes a horizontal swerve off the track or swerves you backward. It would piss you off.
There were three gameplay modes with their own unique way of racing and riding these star machines. The first mode involved traditional racing. The race tracks were all unique to one another as well. There was a sand level, a volcano level, a beanstalk level, and even the game's own version of Mario Kart 64's rainbow road. To add an extra layer of Kirby flair, there are familiar enemies you can suck up that have different powers that you can use against the other racers and other enemies on the track. Like the racing machines, some are more useful than others. The plasma power for instance will wreck everyone's shit. The races all had two or three laps and they were all pretty short, but the control scheme worked well in this mode and the tracks all looked pretty good too for the era.
The second mode was another racing mode but from a top-down perspective. This mode is pretty much a highly condensed version of the first mode as all the tracks are shorter top-down versions. All of the machines from the first mode are gone in favor of one machine. This is the mode that I played the least.
The mode that I played the most was the last mode which was city mode. It was a small open-world area with access to any of the machines from the first mode. You could play around on the map for as long as you wanted and sometimes engage in random events like a meteor falling on the map or Dyna Blade would sometimes appear. The city mode was packed with tons of different areas in a relatively small space. It had a volcano, a forest, some sort of futuristic electric pad, tall buildings, and your choice of every star machine/vehicle in the game. I have fond memories of playing this mode as a kid with my dad and brother. We would mostly play in city mode and fight over who would have the hydra or the orange star that flew to the top of the map. We would hunt for the other person and fuck up their star vehicle and some tears we shed over the ordeal, but I think we simultaneously having fun as well.
The sense of achievement by progressing in this game was in the form of literal achievements. Each mode had an achievement board similar to the ones in the Smash Bros. games. You could unlock a bunch of different things like the ability to play as Meta Knight and King Dedede and doing things to get pieces of the OP hydra and dragoon machines. If you were using those two in any race, you were guaranteed to win. These are the only substantial things worth unlocking as everything other achievement is superfluous and used as a shallow way to keep the player playing.
Does this game hold up for me now? Sadly, I think I'm on the fence. The races and city mode are fun for a while, but unlike Mario Kart, you have to have at least one other person to make this game fun. The game journalists of 2003 were right about the simple control scheme, and it's not enough to keep me satisfied several years on. The shining aspects of this game aren't enough to make it a substantial racing experience. Double Dash is just as fun as it was back then and it didn't have to resort to gripping players with achievements to keep them playing.
———
Attribution: https://erockreviews.blogspot.com
This was Kirby's only game on the cube and it was also his first outing in a racing game. You control various shades of the puffball and ride on a myriad of star machines. Most of the machines were competent vehicles, but some were utter garbage. They tried really hard to make every machine as unique as possible, but some unique crutches of the machines were too much. For a game that relishes a one-button control scheme, the balance wasn't the main selling point. There are about 6 good machines out of 15. There was one-star machine I despised that looked like a purple bar of soap and slipped around like one too. Imagine while you're playing Mario Kart your cart makes a horizontal swerve off the track or swerves you backward. It would piss you off.
There were three gameplay modes with their own unique way of racing and riding these star machines. The first mode involved traditional racing. The race tracks were all unique to one another as well. There was a sand level, a volcano level, a beanstalk level, and even the game's own version of Mario Kart 64's rainbow road. To add an extra layer of Kirby flair, there are familiar enemies you can suck up that have different powers that you can use against the other racers and other enemies on the track. Like the racing machines, some are more useful than others. The plasma power for instance will wreck everyone's shit. The races all had two or three laps and they were all pretty short, but the control scheme worked well in this mode and the tracks all looked pretty good too for the era.
The second mode was another racing mode but from a top-down perspective. This mode is pretty much a highly condensed version of the first mode as all the tracks are shorter top-down versions. All of the machines from the first mode are gone in favor of one machine. This is the mode that I played the least.
The mode that I played the most was the last mode which was city mode. It was a small open-world area with access to any of the machines from the first mode. You could play around on the map for as long as you wanted and sometimes engage in random events like a meteor falling on the map or Dyna Blade would sometimes appear. The city mode was packed with tons of different areas in a relatively small space. It had a volcano, a forest, some sort of futuristic electric pad, tall buildings, and your choice of every star machine/vehicle in the game. I have fond memories of playing this mode as a kid with my dad and brother. We would mostly play in city mode and fight over who would have the hydra or the orange star that flew to the top of the map. We would hunt for the other person and fuck up their star vehicle and some tears we shed over the ordeal, but I think we simultaneously having fun as well.
The sense of achievement by progressing in this game was in the form of literal achievements. Each mode had an achievement board similar to the ones in the Smash Bros. games. You could unlock a bunch of different things like the ability to play as Meta Knight and King Dedede and doing things to get pieces of the OP hydra and dragoon machines. If you were using those two in any race, you were guaranteed to win. These are the only substantial things worth unlocking as everything other achievement is superfluous and used as a shallow way to keep the player playing.
Does this game hold up for me now? Sadly, I think I'm on the fence. The races and city mode are fun for a while, but unlike Mario Kart, you have to have at least one other person to make this game fun. The game journalists of 2003 were right about the simple control scheme, and it's not enough to keep me satisfied several years on. The shining aspects of this game aren't enough to make it a substantial racing experience. Double Dash is just as fun as it was back then and it didn't have to resort to gripping players with achievements to keep them playing.
———
Attribution: https://erockreviews.blogspot.com
*This is not my original review of this game. Back in early 2018, I reviewed Battle for Bikini Bottom as my first published review for shits and giggles, except that I didn't actually review the game. I only talked about what a stupid fucking manchild I was for still liking this licensed kids' game into adulthood. I've always hated my first review not only for the shallow, self-effacing content, but because it was a total disservice to one of my favorite games. I hope this revised review will help quell that nagging feeling I've had for three years now and give Battle for Bikini Bottom its rightful praise. I love this game, and I always have, even when it was totally uncool to do so.
Back in 2003, the 3D platformer was still a prevalent genre in gaming, but it was running its course at this time and was running out of fresh ideas. I was seven years of age at the time and was not aware of the genre’s stagnation, so I was liable to buy into anything. Because I was of the impressionable young demographic who was not tired of jumping on platforms as kooky characters, I was ripe for the industry to take advantage of. In this case, it was Spongebob Squarepants: Battle for Bikini Bottom, another licensed game with the yellow sponge who was taking the world by storm. Would I have ever been interested in this game if it didn't have Spongebob's face all over it? Most likely, no. Like any other kid, I went hook, line, and sinker for any recognizable face on any video game. I played plenty of awful licensed games when I was a kid and Spongebob was even involved with some of those. In the case of Battle for Bikini Bottom, I am so glad that I was a kid in the early 2000s so I could play this game. If I wasn't I would have probably stuck my nose up at this game like the frothing snob I am. Anytime past my single-digit age, I feel as if I would've known better than to buy into this licensed dreck because I was aware of the deserved stigma behind licensed games. I became aware that licensed games were typically rushed to a set deadline regardless of the final project being done. I caught onto the fact that the developers usually didn't care to grasp the source material. This is not the case for Battle for Bikini Bottom at all. They suckered me in, but I was anything but duped. In fact, this game is the optimal Spongebob experience in video game format. It oozes the charm and humor of the show from all of its pores.
The story is pretty simple: Plankton makes an army of robots to take over Bikini Bottom but accidentally sets the switch to "don't obey" which is a classic, silly cartoon conundrum. The same night, Spongebob and Patrick make a wish to have real robots to play with. When he awakens, Spongebob jumps out of bed with that unbridled Spongebob enthusiasm to interact with his cybernetic machinations. However, he is shocked and appalled when he finds that his house has been ransacked and vandalized with graffiti, and sheepishly asks Gary if he made this mess. Spongebob must be a heavy sleeper to have stayed in an unconscious state during the raucous, which explains why he needs a house-shaking fog horn as an alarm clock. Once the robots start running amok, Spongebob feels responsible for all of the chaos, with the anxiety of the Bikini Bottom News Crew covering the pandemic and promising severe consequences for whoever unleashed the robot scourge. Plankton, who stands outside Spongebob’s pineapple abode knowing full well that Spongebob is gullible, gaslights him into thinking that his careless wishing caused this overnight pandemonium, so Spongebob adventures across Bikini Bottom busting up every bucket of bolts in the way. This game's premise wouldn't have been as fun if Spongebob wasn't so dense.
Even though nostalgia still blinds my objective perception like a manipulative spouse, I cannot deny that Battle for Bikini Bottom wears its 3D platformer influences on its sleeves as conspicuously as Squidward wearing no pants. The game apes the non-linear collectathon format that Banjo-Kazooie popularized so much that I’m surprised that Spongebob doesn’t carry around a backpack with Gary in it. While one could still criticize Battle for Bikini Bottom for being heavily derivative, I think some clemency could be considered for the fact that it's a licensed game. The novelty of baking off a preexisting property outside of an original video game IP comes with its recognizability to its brand, so one should never expect a licensed game to be revolutionary. Besides, what 3D platformer of the early 2000s isn’t at least somewhat guilty of ripping off Banjo-Kazooie in some fashion? The main collectible that allows Spongebob to unlock every area of his hometown is golden spatulas, valuable pieces of fry cookery seen once or twice in the show’s first season. There are eight golden spatulas per area, including the hub, and four acquired through the boss battles. Some are earned through overarching tasks like retrieving jellyfish sting ointment for a freshly burned Squidward and rescuing Mrs. Puff’s students from the neverending abyss of the Kelp Forest. Other spatulas are off the beaten path of the more linear sections that divide the levels as opposed to Banjo’s sprawling open playgrounds. Visiting a new section of the town requires Spongebob to collect a specific number of golden spatulas, and they’re all a reasonable number as par for the collectathon course. Golden Spatulas can also be purchased from Mr. Krabs with the rainbow bit shiny object currency, and Spongebob can also trade ten of Patrick's socks back to him for one as the game’s secondary collectible. Why Patrick has a staggeringly large collection of socks when he doesn’t even have feet and what he uses them for, I don’t even want to know.
Along the way in stopping the robot menace, Battle for Bikini Bottom thought it would be imperative to let the player control Spongebob, Patrick, AND Sandy. As one would expect from the character lineup of a sponge, starfish, and a squirrel in a pressurized space suit, each of them has their own movesets and unique abilities. Spongebob, being the titular character and all, gets the most playtime out of the three characters. He is the only character that gains new attack moves as the game progresses making him the most versatile in terms of a moveset. His base bubble wand is not only a swift melee attack, but it's an all-in-one tool used for all of his other moves. Spongebob can strike from below with a bubble Viking helmet bash, or crush enemies with bubble gorilla feet from above. The unlockable bubble moves include bowling a bubble into enemies and launching a guided cruise missile with a five-second limit. No, he does not have to yell “Bring it around town!” to execute all of these bubble stunts. Patrick is the least versatile in every aspect of gameplay. Besides what is either a belly flop or a semi-dry hump (they’re underwater after all) attack, he can body slam to stun some larger robots with a shockwave radius. Patrick’s special schtick is picking up the "throw fruit" watermelon to either attack robots from a distance or press buttons from afar. There are also white "freezy fruit" Patrick throws into the goo to freeze, allowing him to walk on it for a short period of time mostly to retrieve one of the game's many collectibles. Patrick's throwing technique is eventually rendered obsolete as soon as Spongebob acquires the cruise bubble, so most of the utility the game gets out of Patrick are puzzle sections (which is ironic because Patrick is supposed to be the dumb character in the show). They could have made Patrick a strength-heavy character by having his attacks do more damage, but that would probably make the game a little more uneven. I would argue that they did this with Sandy anyway. Sandy is and has always been my favorite character to play as because she has the most range in terms of attack and movement. She has a karate chop, a mid-air kick, a lasso, and a gliding move, and can attach herself to mid-air Texas insignias to swing off in high places to cross even tighter gaps. More often than not, I used Sandy in levels where she was available over Spongebob because her gliding move made it so much easier to traverse every level where she was available. Strongest critter in Bikini Bottom, indeed. Not even bonafide, original 3D platformer games have juggled a string of multiple playable characters this fluidly, and the fact that playing as all three adds a wish fulfillment bonus for every fan of the show is an excellent bonus.
Bikini Bottom has expanded its districts throughout the show’s tenure even in the prime early years, and Battle for Bikini Bottom showcases thirteen of them. The “base” of Bikini Bottom serves as the game’s hub world and along its straight, narrow road, it features notable sub-areas like Spongebob's house, Sandy's treedome, and the Krusty Krab. The Bikini Bottom hub world feels cozy and familiar, but every landmark is squeezed too close together along the road, which I suppose might be due to the limitations of the game. While these spots are certainly the most distinguished ones found in the show, the game treats them all as minor steps to visit as a referential lark. What Battle for Bikini Bottom excels at is extrapolating on Bikini Bottom’s familiar settings that are visited periodically, are background setpieces, or are the focal point of one episode.
There are nine different main levels accessed from toll booths in the hub world and are organized by easy, medium, and hard difficulty curves. Every single level in this game is completely unique to one another in terms of level design and objectives. The green, grassy valley of Jellyfish Fields is a perfect first level because of the climb you undergo to get Squidward that soothing ointment remedy. While the first level in the game is naturally easy, the way it progresses to the peak of King Jellyfish’s shower domain feels epically grand nevertheless. Downtown Bikini Bottom follows up the same type of level progression where climbing up on the rooftops with Sandy leads into a robot horde battle inside of a lighthouse. Goo Lagoon has an infectious, fun energy with plenty of beach time along with a carnival pier in the same district. Rock Bottom exudes that surreal, noirish darkness that made its sole appearance in the show so memorable. The Batcave Mermalair of the geriatric underwater superhero duo of Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy is surprisingly heavily based on solving puzzles. Sand Mountain is a level that revels in the slide mechanic with three perilously thrilling slopes to sand down Spongebob’s tongue with friction, and Spongebob's Dream is an unpredictable mish-mash of different objectives based on whose dream Spongebob is infiltrating. The only level in the game that is worth criticizing is Kelp Forest. I’m glad the stone tiki section and the winding kelp slides add a much-needed spike in difficulty, but performing these tasks in what seems like total darkness is not a necessary handicap. I could turn the brightness up on my television, but I refuse to do so on principle. It makes the hauntingly ectoplasm-drenched Flying Dutchman’s Graveyard look as vibrant as Goo Lagoon by comparison. What happens when areas around Spongebob’s neighborhood and the Krusty Krab are fleshed out in the video game format is that their brief occurrences on the show make their transitory sightings more interesting. When watching the early seasons of Spongebob, I will wonder where that giant jellyfish rock statue is, or the record-breaking sand castle in Goo Lagoon. Rock Bottom’s abstract art museum is genuinely something I want the show to delve into, even though I know it's a pipe dream.
Facing the legions of robot army goons in these assorted Bikini Bottom locations never becomes inconvenient or annoying, even though they are a contagion that needs to be wiped out to regain peace and harmony. Fighting any of these robots is never really challenging as each of them falls apart with one or two hits. Their substance as an enemy distinction lies in their diversity. The robots seemed to have formulated a chain of command based on height and mass in their mere hours of existence. Pint-sized robots such as the taser-carrying Fodders and the halitosis-having Chomp-Bots will go down with little opposition, but they are usually packed in numbers. Mid-sized Ham-Mers that smash people with a bad pun attached to their arm and the Tar-Tar robots that squirt the horrifying condiment (from a sea creature’s perspective) from a hose will usually also accompany the smaller grunts. The aerial Chuck throws missiles with the grace and accuracy of Tom Brady, and failing to tippy-toe around the Sleepytime Robots will result in an alarming penalty. Eventually, once the larger robots like Slick in the oil bubble shield and the spinning triplet Tubelets are introduced in the late game, the wide range of robots all banding together with their unique attributes can actually get quite hectic. Reclaiming the Krusty Krab from them takes a bit of strategy to succeed. The impression we’re supposed to get from Plankton’s rogue creations is that they are a mischievous bunch, but I swear that Chuck and Slick straight-up murder people in their introduction cutscenes. What surprises me more is that the robots don’t cause a disconnect with Spongebob’s underwater world. On top of everything else, knocking these tin cans around feels magnificent thanks to the sharp sound and impact. Chaining combos in combat and setting off Thunder Tiki traps to blow them sky-high is so satisfying.
After collecting a number of golden spatulas by a number divisible by five, Spongebob opens the shell gate and teleports to an arena where he fights a harrowingly uncanny robot creation of one of the three playable characters scaled to match the size of a small building. First, Spongebob and Patrick rumble around with a Robot Sandy in a Poseidome wrestling ring at the request of the sea king depicted on the show. I adore the adrenaline and motion of this fight as oftentimes, I'd just dodge its karate chops at me until it hit me just for my own sick amusement. Robot Patrick used to make me feel uneasy when I was a kid. I'm not sure if it's due to the creepy level music or the foggy, toxic dinginess of the Industrial Park. It’s likely due to Robot Patrick's design. He looks less like a robot and more like if Patrick was a back-alley rapist. He’s got a menacing grin of cruelty that makes your skin crawl. Karate-geared Robot Spongebob and the final level in its mechanical brain are no-nonsense as it heavily requires every move you've learned throughout the game and doesn't give you any checkpoints or health. It's a pretty intense finale for the game. Outside the curiosity of seeing the main characters depicted as towering mechanical machines made for destruction, the multi-phased boss fights they serve as are perfect for splitting up the game’s progression. There are also three minibosses found at the end of a few levels, including King Jellyfish taking a shower and the treacherous pirate ghost Flying Dutchman after swindling a deal with our heroes. Mermaid Man villain Prawn, an original creation of the developers, is as dynamic as Man Ray or the Dirty Bubble as a snooty, Eurotrash plankton who weaponizes sound from a phonograph head.
Other fantastic aspects of this game are in the form of little intricacies through the game. Spongebob's shoes squeak every time he moves just like in the show. The announcer fish from the show commentates on every boss fight, Patrick peers into the Treedome just like in the first episode of the show, and the bus stop gag from Rock Bottom even makes an appearance. Bubble Buddy, Spongebob’s makeshift imaginary friend who pissed off everyone in town, is one of the core NPC characters in the game that assigns Spongebob various tasks to collect more Golden Spatulas. Still, the strength of the game’s connection to the show runs deeper than mere references. If the show’s writers weren’t involved in the game’s development, I’d be incredulously surprised. The game’s writing is practically as sharp and charming as it was during the show’s early seasons when the game was being developed. Spongebob and Plankton banter with their contrasting dynamic, and seeing Sandy and Patrick talk to the maniacal shrimp is something amusing unseen in the show. Surly Squidward makes comments to Spongebob as caustically as usual, and it’s hilarious seeing him dream of torturing Mr. Krabs with his dream symphony while his boss returns the favor by sticking him at work in his own astral fantasy. Unfortunately, one glaring flaw that sullies the strong connection to the source material is that Clancy Brown doesn’t voice Mr. Krabs, but an imposter who can’t help but sound like an offkey impersonation (who also voices Mermaid Man as poorly).
Either the developers engorged themselves in the source material by prying their eyes open like Alex Delarge, or THQ hired some of the biggest Spongebob fans to develop this game. Either way, this game avoids all the pitfalls that beset the licensed game, and it all seems so simple. The game shares many similarities to Banjo Kazooie and other platformers that came before it, but a licensed game doesn't have to be original to be entertaining. It begs the question: how hard is it to understand the source material before you adapt it to another medium? I've played plenty of games like Battle for Bikini Bottom, but none of those games remind me why Spongebob was my favorite cartoon like this one does. Spongebob was never this cerebral, ground-breaking TV show, but it succeeded because it was timelessly written and was extremely charming. It's wonderful that the charm of Spongebob translated so well into this game. All the while, it doesn’t just absorb and expunge the source material: it returns the favor by using the video game format to expand on the source material, something that most licensed games are too lazy to do. The mission of the developers was to make the game recognizable to its source material, but it really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things because the game is so exceptional. I’d even go out on a limb and say it ranks up there with one of the best 3D platformers of all time because all of the platformer aspects it liberally borrows are executed solidly. I feel no shame loving this game even as an adult.
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Attribution: https://erockreviews.blogspot.com
Back in 2003, the 3D platformer was still a prevalent genre in gaming, but it was running its course at this time and was running out of fresh ideas. I was seven years of age at the time and was not aware of the genre’s stagnation, so I was liable to buy into anything. Because I was of the impressionable young demographic who was not tired of jumping on platforms as kooky characters, I was ripe for the industry to take advantage of. In this case, it was Spongebob Squarepants: Battle for Bikini Bottom, another licensed game with the yellow sponge who was taking the world by storm. Would I have ever been interested in this game if it didn't have Spongebob's face all over it? Most likely, no. Like any other kid, I went hook, line, and sinker for any recognizable face on any video game. I played plenty of awful licensed games when I was a kid and Spongebob was even involved with some of those. In the case of Battle for Bikini Bottom, I am so glad that I was a kid in the early 2000s so I could play this game. If I wasn't I would have probably stuck my nose up at this game like the frothing snob I am. Anytime past my single-digit age, I feel as if I would've known better than to buy into this licensed dreck because I was aware of the deserved stigma behind licensed games. I became aware that licensed games were typically rushed to a set deadline regardless of the final project being done. I caught onto the fact that the developers usually didn't care to grasp the source material. This is not the case for Battle for Bikini Bottom at all. They suckered me in, but I was anything but duped. In fact, this game is the optimal Spongebob experience in video game format. It oozes the charm and humor of the show from all of its pores.
The story is pretty simple: Plankton makes an army of robots to take over Bikini Bottom but accidentally sets the switch to "don't obey" which is a classic, silly cartoon conundrum. The same night, Spongebob and Patrick make a wish to have real robots to play with. When he awakens, Spongebob jumps out of bed with that unbridled Spongebob enthusiasm to interact with his cybernetic machinations. However, he is shocked and appalled when he finds that his house has been ransacked and vandalized with graffiti, and sheepishly asks Gary if he made this mess. Spongebob must be a heavy sleeper to have stayed in an unconscious state during the raucous, which explains why he needs a house-shaking fog horn as an alarm clock. Once the robots start running amok, Spongebob feels responsible for all of the chaos, with the anxiety of the Bikini Bottom News Crew covering the pandemic and promising severe consequences for whoever unleashed the robot scourge. Plankton, who stands outside Spongebob’s pineapple abode knowing full well that Spongebob is gullible, gaslights him into thinking that his careless wishing caused this overnight pandemonium, so Spongebob adventures across Bikini Bottom busting up every bucket of bolts in the way. This game's premise wouldn't have been as fun if Spongebob wasn't so dense.
Even though nostalgia still blinds my objective perception like a manipulative spouse, I cannot deny that Battle for Bikini Bottom wears its 3D platformer influences on its sleeves as conspicuously as Squidward wearing no pants. The game apes the non-linear collectathon format that Banjo-Kazooie popularized so much that I’m surprised that Spongebob doesn’t carry around a backpack with Gary in it. While one could still criticize Battle for Bikini Bottom for being heavily derivative, I think some clemency could be considered for the fact that it's a licensed game. The novelty of baking off a preexisting property outside of an original video game IP comes with its recognizability to its brand, so one should never expect a licensed game to be revolutionary. Besides, what 3D platformer of the early 2000s isn’t at least somewhat guilty of ripping off Banjo-Kazooie in some fashion? The main collectible that allows Spongebob to unlock every area of his hometown is golden spatulas, valuable pieces of fry cookery seen once or twice in the show’s first season. There are eight golden spatulas per area, including the hub, and four acquired through the boss battles. Some are earned through overarching tasks like retrieving jellyfish sting ointment for a freshly burned Squidward and rescuing Mrs. Puff’s students from the neverending abyss of the Kelp Forest. Other spatulas are off the beaten path of the more linear sections that divide the levels as opposed to Banjo’s sprawling open playgrounds. Visiting a new section of the town requires Spongebob to collect a specific number of golden spatulas, and they’re all a reasonable number as par for the collectathon course. Golden Spatulas can also be purchased from Mr. Krabs with the rainbow bit shiny object currency, and Spongebob can also trade ten of Patrick's socks back to him for one as the game’s secondary collectible. Why Patrick has a staggeringly large collection of socks when he doesn’t even have feet and what he uses them for, I don’t even want to know.
Along the way in stopping the robot menace, Battle for Bikini Bottom thought it would be imperative to let the player control Spongebob, Patrick, AND Sandy. As one would expect from the character lineup of a sponge, starfish, and a squirrel in a pressurized space suit, each of them has their own movesets and unique abilities. Spongebob, being the titular character and all, gets the most playtime out of the three characters. He is the only character that gains new attack moves as the game progresses making him the most versatile in terms of a moveset. His base bubble wand is not only a swift melee attack, but it's an all-in-one tool used for all of his other moves. Spongebob can strike from below with a bubble Viking helmet bash, or crush enemies with bubble gorilla feet from above. The unlockable bubble moves include bowling a bubble into enemies and launching a guided cruise missile with a five-second limit. No, he does not have to yell “Bring it around town!” to execute all of these bubble stunts. Patrick is the least versatile in every aspect of gameplay. Besides what is either a belly flop or a semi-dry hump (they’re underwater after all) attack, he can body slam to stun some larger robots with a shockwave radius. Patrick’s special schtick is picking up the "throw fruit" watermelon to either attack robots from a distance or press buttons from afar. There are also white "freezy fruit" Patrick throws into the goo to freeze, allowing him to walk on it for a short period of time mostly to retrieve one of the game's many collectibles. Patrick's throwing technique is eventually rendered obsolete as soon as Spongebob acquires the cruise bubble, so most of the utility the game gets out of Patrick are puzzle sections (which is ironic because Patrick is supposed to be the dumb character in the show). They could have made Patrick a strength-heavy character by having his attacks do more damage, but that would probably make the game a little more uneven. I would argue that they did this with Sandy anyway. Sandy is and has always been my favorite character to play as because she has the most range in terms of attack and movement. She has a karate chop, a mid-air kick, a lasso, and a gliding move, and can attach herself to mid-air Texas insignias to swing off in high places to cross even tighter gaps. More often than not, I used Sandy in levels where she was available over Spongebob because her gliding move made it so much easier to traverse every level where she was available. Strongest critter in Bikini Bottom, indeed. Not even bonafide, original 3D platformer games have juggled a string of multiple playable characters this fluidly, and the fact that playing as all three adds a wish fulfillment bonus for every fan of the show is an excellent bonus.
Bikini Bottom has expanded its districts throughout the show’s tenure even in the prime early years, and Battle for Bikini Bottom showcases thirteen of them. The “base” of Bikini Bottom serves as the game’s hub world and along its straight, narrow road, it features notable sub-areas like Spongebob's house, Sandy's treedome, and the Krusty Krab. The Bikini Bottom hub world feels cozy and familiar, but every landmark is squeezed too close together along the road, which I suppose might be due to the limitations of the game. While these spots are certainly the most distinguished ones found in the show, the game treats them all as minor steps to visit as a referential lark. What Battle for Bikini Bottom excels at is extrapolating on Bikini Bottom’s familiar settings that are visited periodically, are background setpieces, or are the focal point of one episode.
There are nine different main levels accessed from toll booths in the hub world and are organized by easy, medium, and hard difficulty curves. Every single level in this game is completely unique to one another in terms of level design and objectives. The green, grassy valley of Jellyfish Fields is a perfect first level because of the climb you undergo to get Squidward that soothing ointment remedy. While the first level in the game is naturally easy, the way it progresses to the peak of King Jellyfish’s shower domain feels epically grand nevertheless. Downtown Bikini Bottom follows up the same type of level progression where climbing up on the rooftops with Sandy leads into a robot horde battle inside of a lighthouse. Goo Lagoon has an infectious, fun energy with plenty of beach time along with a carnival pier in the same district. Rock Bottom exudes that surreal, noirish darkness that made its sole appearance in the show so memorable. The Batcave Mermalair of the geriatric underwater superhero duo of Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy is surprisingly heavily based on solving puzzles. Sand Mountain is a level that revels in the slide mechanic with three perilously thrilling slopes to sand down Spongebob’s tongue with friction, and Spongebob's Dream is an unpredictable mish-mash of different objectives based on whose dream Spongebob is infiltrating. The only level in the game that is worth criticizing is Kelp Forest. I’m glad the stone tiki section and the winding kelp slides add a much-needed spike in difficulty, but performing these tasks in what seems like total darkness is not a necessary handicap. I could turn the brightness up on my television, but I refuse to do so on principle. It makes the hauntingly ectoplasm-drenched Flying Dutchman’s Graveyard look as vibrant as Goo Lagoon by comparison. What happens when areas around Spongebob’s neighborhood and the Krusty Krab are fleshed out in the video game format is that their brief occurrences on the show make their transitory sightings more interesting. When watching the early seasons of Spongebob, I will wonder where that giant jellyfish rock statue is, or the record-breaking sand castle in Goo Lagoon. Rock Bottom’s abstract art museum is genuinely something I want the show to delve into, even though I know it's a pipe dream.
Facing the legions of robot army goons in these assorted Bikini Bottom locations never becomes inconvenient or annoying, even though they are a contagion that needs to be wiped out to regain peace and harmony. Fighting any of these robots is never really challenging as each of them falls apart with one or two hits. Their substance as an enemy distinction lies in their diversity. The robots seemed to have formulated a chain of command based on height and mass in their mere hours of existence. Pint-sized robots such as the taser-carrying Fodders and the halitosis-having Chomp-Bots will go down with little opposition, but they are usually packed in numbers. Mid-sized Ham-Mers that smash people with a bad pun attached to their arm and the Tar-Tar robots that squirt the horrifying condiment (from a sea creature’s perspective) from a hose will usually also accompany the smaller grunts. The aerial Chuck throws missiles with the grace and accuracy of Tom Brady, and failing to tippy-toe around the Sleepytime Robots will result in an alarming penalty. Eventually, once the larger robots like Slick in the oil bubble shield and the spinning triplet Tubelets are introduced in the late game, the wide range of robots all banding together with their unique attributes can actually get quite hectic. Reclaiming the Krusty Krab from them takes a bit of strategy to succeed. The impression we’re supposed to get from Plankton’s rogue creations is that they are a mischievous bunch, but I swear that Chuck and Slick straight-up murder people in their introduction cutscenes. What surprises me more is that the robots don’t cause a disconnect with Spongebob’s underwater world. On top of everything else, knocking these tin cans around feels magnificent thanks to the sharp sound and impact. Chaining combos in combat and setting off Thunder Tiki traps to blow them sky-high is so satisfying.
After collecting a number of golden spatulas by a number divisible by five, Spongebob opens the shell gate and teleports to an arena where he fights a harrowingly uncanny robot creation of one of the three playable characters scaled to match the size of a small building. First, Spongebob and Patrick rumble around with a Robot Sandy in a Poseidome wrestling ring at the request of the sea king depicted on the show. I adore the adrenaline and motion of this fight as oftentimes, I'd just dodge its karate chops at me until it hit me just for my own sick amusement. Robot Patrick used to make me feel uneasy when I was a kid. I'm not sure if it's due to the creepy level music or the foggy, toxic dinginess of the Industrial Park. It’s likely due to Robot Patrick's design. He looks less like a robot and more like if Patrick was a back-alley rapist. He’s got a menacing grin of cruelty that makes your skin crawl. Karate-geared Robot Spongebob and the final level in its mechanical brain are no-nonsense as it heavily requires every move you've learned throughout the game and doesn't give you any checkpoints or health. It's a pretty intense finale for the game. Outside the curiosity of seeing the main characters depicted as towering mechanical machines made for destruction, the multi-phased boss fights they serve as are perfect for splitting up the game’s progression. There are also three minibosses found at the end of a few levels, including King Jellyfish taking a shower and the treacherous pirate ghost Flying Dutchman after swindling a deal with our heroes. Mermaid Man villain Prawn, an original creation of the developers, is as dynamic as Man Ray or the Dirty Bubble as a snooty, Eurotrash plankton who weaponizes sound from a phonograph head.
Other fantastic aspects of this game are in the form of little intricacies through the game. Spongebob's shoes squeak every time he moves just like in the show. The announcer fish from the show commentates on every boss fight, Patrick peers into the Treedome just like in the first episode of the show, and the bus stop gag from Rock Bottom even makes an appearance. Bubble Buddy, Spongebob’s makeshift imaginary friend who pissed off everyone in town, is one of the core NPC characters in the game that assigns Spongebob various tasks to collect more Golden Spatulas. Still, the strength of the game’s connection to the show runs deeper than mere references. If the show’s writers weren’t involved in the game’s development, I’d be incredulously surprised. The game’s writing is practically as sharp and charming as it was during the show’s early seasons when the game was being developed. Spongebob and Plankton banter with their contrasting dynamic, and seeing Sandy and Patrick talk to the maniacal shrimp is something amusing unseen in the show. Surly Squidward makes comments to Spongebob as caustically as usual, and it’s hilarious seeing him dream of torturing Mr. Krabs with his dream symphony while his boss returns the favor by sticking him at work in his own astral fantasy. Unfortunately, one glaring flaw that sullies the strong connection to the source material is that Clancy Brown doesn’t voice Mr. Krabs, but an imposter who can’t help but sound like an offkey impersonation (who also voices Mermaid Man as poorly).
Either the developers engorged themselves in the source material by prying their eyes open like Alex Delarge, or THQ hired some of the biggest Spongebob fans to develop this game. Either way, this game avoids all the pitfalls that beset the licensed game, and it all seems so simple. The game shares many similarities to Banjo Kazooie and other platformers that came before it, but a licensed game doesn't have to be original to be entertaining. It begs the question: how hard is it to understand the source material before you adapt it to another medium? I've played plenty of games like Battle for Bikini Bottom, but none of those games remind me why Spongebob was my favorite cartoon like this one does. Spongebob was never this cerebral, ground-breaking TV show, but it succeeded because it was timelessly written and was extremely charming. It's wonderful that the charm of Spongebob translated so well into this game. All the while, it doesn’t just absorb and expunge the source material: it returns the favor by using the video game format to expand on the source material, something that most licensed games are too lazy to do. The mission of the developers was to make the game recognizable to its source material, but it really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things because the game is so exceptional. I’d even go out on a limb and say it ranks up there with one of the best 3D platformers of all time because all of the platformer aspects it liberally borrows are executed solidly. I feel no shame loving this game even as an adult.
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Attribution: https://erockreviews.blogspot.com