What is the average tolerance for tank controls these days? I started thinking about this question after seeing a video where a guy gets his wife to play the original Resident Evil 1 (she's played plenty of games before that), and she spent a whole 15 minutes in the first room just trying to move towards a door. All the while, the question kept getting asked, "Why does it play like this? Why does it not play like a regular video game?"

For Resident Evil, I think I could answer these questions decently enough. If there weren't tank controls in a game with a fixed camera, you would keep turning in the wrong direction everytime the camera snapped into a different angle. And that's really it. I don't believe it was a matter of the controls being "shitty on purpose," the tank controls just ensured that you continue moving in the direction you want, regardless of the camera suddenly turning 90, or 180 degrees. Silent Hill 2 had an option to turn off tank controls, and that game showed me exactly why they were necessary to make your movements less clumsy and disorientating.

So what is Croc's excuse? It came out a whole year after Super Mario 64, and the last time I checked, it is not, in fact, a fixed camera survival horror game. But some of the ratings on Backloggd would make you think otherwise. But I mean, they have some fair points. WHY does it actually play like this, considering we've already figured out much better ways to design 3D platformers? How did the developers not look at Super Mario 64 and take the year they had to revise how the game feels? Or is it really the case that Croc begun development before Mario 64 was shown off to the public, and they did not have the time or resources to accordingly adjust how Croc plays?

The answer is something else. Even if they did have the time, even if they did have the will, Croc was designed like this because it was the only way it could be designed.

The PS1 had one big problem that the N64 did not. Analog support was something that was only added in the middle of the PS1's lifespan, so until then, games had to be designed with the D-pad in mind. It was almost impossible to give games like Tomb Raider, and Croc the smoothness that they could've benefited from. Tank controls were the middle-ground solution. At the cost of removing the ability to make sharp turns, the seperation of turning and movement allowed you to make precise jumps at precise angles. Crash 1 was designed as a precision 2D platformer within the dimensions of 3D, but Croc was designed as a precision 3D platformer that demanded a slower, more careful pace, one where accuracy was paramount.

But as we move further and further away from tank controls in favor of modernized controls, new generations of players are born that will effectively never get to try this control scheme unless their parents were jackasses and exposed them primarily to games they grew up with. If there's no natural curiosity for what games used to be otherwise, then something like Croc will undoubtfully prove to be alien. Awkward. Dare I say, unplayable. There was a day when tank controls were understood, a norm amongst the norms. Nowadays, they are perceived as being so utterly repulsive, a majority of players won't touch any game that contains them.

The argument around tank controls has, and will probably always continue to be exhausting. But much like any modern game designed around deliberate unconventionality, Croc's rules can be adjusted to, and the game can be fun. The expectation of a traditional 3D platformer ruins it. This is not a Super Mario 64 playing field that happens to have tank controls. It's a tank control game, with level design specifically based all around mastering these controls. It may feel out-of-place in your mind, but I personally think it's all very in-place for its age, and for what it actually wants to do, rather than what we want it to do.

The level design is the largest point it has going for it, with rooms broken up into these little mini-challenges. While the variety of new mechanics isn't strong at first - as the focus is primarily on getting you accustomed to the controls and platforming - Croc starts picking up more variety the further you get into the game's 4 worlds (with a fifth one if you're going for 100%), managing to keep the experience fresh throughout.

Learning to make use of the quick turn, and especially side-jumping to quickly reposition yourself begins to make for a more comfortable experience, and after a certain point, you'll be hopping from platform to platform as gracefully as the alligator swimming in my sewers. At some point, it may hit you that Croc is more of a positioning game than it is a platforming one. Sort of like climbing a mountain, you're finding the right spots, gauging the distances, and generally being more conscious of what sorts of jumps you need to make, in comparison to other platformers where the act of jumping is somewhat more mindless for an experienced player. Less simplicity, equals more complex executions, which gives Croc a sense of satisfaction when you do manage to overcome its hikes, and especially when the moment arrives that you start speeding through them like Croc's on Crac.

While I wouldn't say the soundtrack matches up to its platforming rivals at the time, there's still a pure sense of charm about it, with each world introducing a new set of catchy earworms. The composition reminds me a little of Good-Feel titles such as Yoshi's Woolly World. It's pleasant, upbeat, and really just seems indicative of a platformer that's just happy to be here. The graphics are hold up pretty alright too, as was the case for most PS1 platformers that opted to go for a cartoon aesthetic, and I'll always love to see that little crocodile go "yeh-zoo!", because in Polish it sounds like he's calling on Jesus's name.

Probably the two major detracting points I have against this game is one, that the bosses are a serious afterthought. Run around, wait for the boss to reveal their weakpoint, hit them, rinse repeat for like, every single one of these fuckers. Splitting each level into a multitude of mini-challenges also has its drawback, resulting in far too many loading screens for its own good. This could be circumvented if you have a fast forward button on you, but otherwise you'll need to be patient for a game that already requires patience as is. But, like... that's it. This is genuinely all I have against Croc. I'm a rare breed of fuckin' weirdos that just enjoys this game for what it is, and what it is is all I ever really needed.

I've recently deleted a review on "The Big Catch: Tacklebox". I initially felt its design and control feel were objective flaws, and I couldn't fathom how others enjoyed it. Replaying it a few days later, I came to a different conclusion that's a little relevant to this review of Croc. Most games are a set of rules that you either adjust to, or you don't. It is very difficult to tell when a game crosses into "this game shouldn't have been designed like this" territory, but more often when that comes out of a player's mouth, it actually translates to "this game wasn't designed like how I wanted it to be."

Mind you, it's okay to feel that way, after all, you don't have to force yourself into liking things that you just don't. Croc's a weird game, with weird controls. But we should be more careful on imposing our own biases, knowing that our bias isn't exclusively the only one out there. There is an undeniable audience for a game like The Big Catch. And there's an audience for even something like Croc. The trick to understanding the appeal of either, is to know that there are many different ways to play games, and it'd be a lot more boring if we homogenized all of them into a single modern control scheme. It's fine if the game isn't for you, but I think it's worth it to at least try and head into it with an adjustable mindset. You may still walk out thinking the game sucked, but who knows, maybe you won't? That's how I ended up respecting The Big Catch. And that's how I respect Croc too.

Just the first one though, the sequel kinda sucks ass-