PC-E CD: 7/10
Sega CD: 6.25/10

I played the PC-E version last year and didn't know how to express how i felt about it, so I kinda defaulted to 'its raw' as a safe catch-all. I replayed it today via the Sega CD port, which really put into perspective the issue I have with this - and by extension, a LOT of 16-bit CD action games.

Lords of Thunder is loud and gorgeous, filled to the brim with deliciously-glorious buttrock and power metal, and hordes of giant mini-boss-type creatures to lay waste on. It's a stark contrast to Gate of Thunder, Red Entertainment's prior faux-TF game, which tried to refocus the gameplay of the TF formula at the expense of visual creativity and memorability. But ironically, Lords of Thunder is similarly forgettable, even though it shouldn't be! I could remember every inch of TF2-5 like the back of my hand, even before I learned those games like a madman, but not here, and I think it's a problem with the weapon system of all things. I notice playing TF that every sub-wave of enemies is best fought with one of your selectable directional shots, and that little bit of locomotion gets your mind thinking about those enemies as tangible, resistible forces. In Lords of Thunder, your shot is picked at the start and they all function VERY similarly, and most of the time you won't even use it when you can just slash through shit. That kind of combat autopilot is enough to make everything in this game feel like an evanescent wisp in the air. Like, oh cool, a burning cerberus jumps at me and blasts me with fire, but I can just keep holding A and mince it. Even against an easy no-name TF, I'm having a mental back-and-forth - oh, I'll use homing so I can get out of the way, I'll use wave so i can cover the destructible projectiles it's throwing at me. And when nothing is happening on screen I'm still mentally reading myself, using the environment as a cue for what might hit me next. Again, nothing like that with Lords of Thunder. My brain is off the whole ride. All four armor types should've been weapons you alternated between, and they should have more distinct functionality from each other. This one-weapon-per-stage restriction feels like an arbitrary forced replay value gimmick.

And then there's just this horrible feeling of dissonance between the aesthetic and the actual weight of the gameworld - god it's so HOLLOW. I felt so similar about Robo Aleste, it's how rich, intricate and hi-fi the music is against the lo-fi crunch of the pixels and sound effects - or lack thereof, it feels like there's barely any impact sfx here. This incongruent presentation immediately signals the artificiality of the world and takes you out of it, it's a thing I see in so many early CD games that's totally absent from anything PS1-onward.

So without the mechanical and immersive hooks of Thunder Force, you're left with all the ameteurish ends of TF's game design - enemies that bum-rush you without a chance to react but die as soon as you glare at them, environmental hazards you can't avoid unless you already know they're coming, and a general lack of resistance from oncoming waves for 80% of the time.

What cemented this was playing the S-CD version, which heavily neuters the difficulty and feels like its missing some sound and colors. My ass was fucking yawning through this shit! Honk-shoo-ing and mimimi-ing, even!! While shit like this is playing in the background!! Fundamental mistakes get blown right open by the little issues in this rushjob, the total lack of roleplay or player projection all made sense.

Don't take this as a total condemnation of Lords - if it looks cool to you and you like PC-E shmups, you'll probably find something worth celebrating here. It's arguably the most impressive-looking shooters on the console, but if we've learned anything from the last 3 gens of gaming, looks can be deceiving.

Reviewed on Jan 04, 2024


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