TheMaxine
2024
This is one of those games where it's better to watch it on Youtube than it is to experience it yourself. I find myself intrigued by the detective-y noir presentation of the story, and the many notes that you find harken back to the vibe of the original Alone in the Dark. Truth being, I mainly tried this game out because its writer was also involved in Soma, and I think they're doing a pretty alright job here. However, these are not strong enough pulls for me to deal with this game's many puzzles, or especially its lackluster combat paired with forgettable enemy design. The attempts at incentivizing stealth alone severely put me off, the protagonist walks so slow that the enemies you're tailing behind are more likely to do an entire loop around the area and catch up behind you before you reach your goal.
It's funny, because putting it into perspective, the original Alone in the Dark is a game with infinitely worse combat and puzzles that are way more obtuse than anything found here. There are so many things in that game that are out to kill you in cheap and unfair ways, there are potential softlocks to run into, and its guns don't work half the time. And yet, I beat that game. I beat it exactly because of this sort of aggressive cruelty and unpredictability it offered, where every individual room felt like its own unique challenge to overcome. It was the game's strongest point, and it's something that the reboot desperately lacks. Trading in the wonder of discovering a huge jellyfish wriggling in a bathtub, or walking out the front door of the mansion only to be consumed by a giant monster, or touching a statue only to summon a poltergeist that violently shakes the screen and relentlessly pursues you... Alone in the Dark (2024) sacrifices all of this in favor of plain and boring predictability. True, you might not know in what sort of place you're going to wind up next, but you'll always know what's going to happen, a bunch of mindless combat against a bunch of mindless zombie-like enemies. This is not a reimagining, it's an unimagining.
It's funny, because putting it into perspective, the original Alone in the Dark is a game with infinitely worse combat and puzzles that are way more obtuse than anything found here. There are so many things in that game that are out to kill you in cheap and unfair ways, there are potential softlocks to run into, and its guns don't work half the time. And yet, I beat that game. I beat it exactly because of this sort of aggressive cruelty and unpredictability it offered, where every individual room felt like its own unique challenge to overcome. It was the game's strongest point, and it's something that the reboot desperately lacks. Trading in the wonder of discovering a huge jellyfish wriggling in a bathtub, or walking out the front door of the mansion only to be consumed by a giant monster, or touching a statue only to summon a poltergeist that violently shakes the screen and relentlessly pursues you... Alone in the Dark (2024) sacrifices all of this in favor of plain and boring predictability. True, you might not know in what sort of place you're going to wind up next, but you'll always know what's going to happen, a bunch of mindless combat against a bunch of mindless zombie-like enemies. This is not a reimagining, it's an unimagining.
As weird as it is to say, I consider Metroid 2 a rare example of a Nintendo-made horror game. You're all alone on a dangerous planet, full of lifeforms that are continulously evolving into ever more dangerous forms. It feels like you're in a race against the clock, before the Metroid race evolves to a level where not even you will be able to stop them from consuming the rest of the galaxy. So, there you are, wandering deeper into the caverns, caverns that seem to be stretching on for infinity, your footsteps the only audible sound, until... wham! A metroid is flying straight at you, and a frantic battle of survival ensues.
Okay, so it's not actually scary at all, but I think that's what the developers wanted to evoke, I think that element of claustrophobia and "hunt or be hunted" is Metroid 2's core goal. The attempt at creating this kind of atmosphere for a Gameboy game is a respectable one, and is really the game's most redeeming aspect. I will always think of that "moment" when you enter the final area, it gives me goosebumps everytime. Unfortunately, the gameplay itself has aged even worse than the original Metroid 1, which is why I cannot ultimately recommend this one.
Taking away color and zooming the screen in did Metroid's exploratory focus absolutely no favors. Areas look even more dull than they used to be. There's caves upon caves, all repetitive, most difficult to memorize and distinguish from each other. And there's still no map, other than the one I heavily relied on from a guide.
There's something to be said about the pros of getting lost in video games, but I think that only applies when the areas you stumble into are distinct enough to a point where the feeling of discovering a new location heavily washes over you. Like when you decide to explore a different part of town in real life, after wandering throughout the same locales you've known for years, and this intense feeling of unfamiliarity hits you. I hope whoever reads this gets the analogy, because I have no better one to offer at 2AM in the night.
Anyway, Metroid 2 does not offer the feeling of getting lost in unfamiliar territory, all it has is the uncertainty of whether you're even lost or not. Constant doubt gets in the way of genuinely enjoying the game, and by a certain point, I get impatient and just want it to be over.
Other than the neat little thought about this being a horror game in disguise, I've gotten little out of the experience. The next Metroid game, Super Metroid, will be where I have more positive things to say. There's also the fanmade remake of Metroid 2, AM2R, which is so good that I treat it as an official Metroid game and wholeheartedly recommend you make that version of the game one of your top priorities.
Okay, so it's not actually scary at all, but I think that's what the developers wanted to evoke, I think that element of claustrophobia and "hunt or be hunted" is Metroid 2's core goal. The attempt at creating this kind of atmosphere for a Gameboy game is a respectable one, and is really the game's most redeeming aspect. I will always think of that "moment" when you enter the final area, it gives me goosebumps everytime. Unfortunately, the gameplay itself has aged even worse than the original Metroid 1, which is why I cannot ultimately recommend this one.
Taking away color and zooming the screen in did Metroid's exploratory focus absolutely no favors. Areas look even more dull than they used to be. There's caves upon caves, all repetitive, most difficult to memorize and distinguish from each other. And there's still no map, other than the one I heavily relied on from a guide.
There's something to be said about the pros of getting lost in video games, but I think that only applies when the areas you stumble into are distinct enough to a point where the feeling of discovering a new location heavily washes over you. Like when you decide to explore a different part of town in real life, after wandering throughout the same locales you've known for years, and this intense feeling of unfamiliarity hits you. I hope whoever reads this gets the analogy, because I have no better one to offer at 2AM in the night.
Anyway, Metroid 2 does not offer the feeling of getting lost in unfamiliar territory, all it has is the uncertainty of whether you're even lost or not. Constant doubt gets in the way of genuinely enjoying the game, and by a certain point, I get impatient and just want it to be over.
Other than the neat little thought about this being a horror game in disguise, I've gotten little out of the experience. The next Metroid game, Super Metroid, will be where I have more positive things to say. There's also the fanmade remake of Metroid 2, AM2R, which is so good that I treat it as an official Metroid game and wholeheartedly recommend you make that version of the game one of your top priorities.
1995
I love Ristar. I don't think you could make Ristar again. Part of what makes this one special is that there's only one of it. (do we count the 8-bit version...?) Nowadays, you'd probably get some 2.5D reimagining that mostly just recycles a buncha stuff from the original and calls it a day. And it'd be servicable for one playthrough, but I wouldn't come back to it like I would come back to this one over and over again.
Ristar, for its short length, emanates a level of passion and variety akin to something like Sonic 3 & Knuckles. Fitting, as the Ristar team would go on to join Sonic Team after this game released (which is why there's a misconception that this was developed by sonic team). Every world's broken up into two platforming stages and a boss, each with a new mechanic, a new bop of a song, rarely overstaying its welcome and always a marvel of spritework to appreciate. Controls are simple, you move and you stretch your arms out for a variety of context-sensitive acrobatics, including using enemies as climbable platforms, flinging yourself off poles/handles, and climbing up walls as one of the more advanced techniques. If that one small part of your brain lights up everytime a game lets you swing across something to cross a gap, then I'm happy to report that with some practice on hand, Ristar is a Tarzan game in disguise. But even without taking full advantage of these abilities, the game has plenty of mini-bosses and hidden nooks and crannies that reward you with lifes, or even extra bonus stages that feature unique mini platforming challenges for you to overcome, and perhaps take advantage of to practice your moveset.
Game only gets half a star off for the 1st music world stage, which has something akin to an escort mission that I personally found it went a little against the rest of the game's flow. Everything else points to Ristar being a sort-of hidden gem amongst the Genesis library. Coming out at the tail end of its life cycle, this is one of the games that understood the Genesis best. And in a way, as the Saturn approached and overshadowed this game's release, this might very well have been the last glowing star in Sega's track record that burned out.
Ristar, for its short length, emanates a level of passion and variety akin to something like Sonic 3 & Knuckles. Fitting, as the Ristar team would go on to join Sonic Team after this game released (which is why there's a misconception that this was developed by sonic team). Every world's broken up into two platforming stages and a boss, each with a new mechanic, a new bop of a song, rarely overstaying its welcome and always a marvel of spritework to appreciate. Controls are simple, you move and you stretch your arms out for a variety of context-sensitive acrobatics, including using enemies as climbable platforms, flinging yourself off poles/handles, and climbing up walls as one of the more advanced techniques. If that one small part of your brain lights up everytime a game lets you swing across something to cross a gap, then I'm happy to report that with some practice on hand, Ristar is a Tarzan game in disguise. But even without taking full advantage of these abilities, the game has plenty of mini-bosses and hidden nooks and crannies that reward you with lifes, or even extra bonus stages that feature unique mini platforming challenges for you to overcome, and perhaps take advantage of to practice your moveset.
Game only gets half a star off for the 1st music world stage, which has something akin to an escort mission that I personally found it went a little against the rest of the game's flow. Everything else points to Ristar being a sort-of hidden gem amongst the Genesis library. Coming out at the tail end of its life cycle, this is one of the games that understood the Genesis best. And in a way, as the Saturn approached and overshadowed this game's release, this might very well have been the last glowing star in Sega's track record that burned out.
I'm gonna provide one of the more positive takes on the game, and say it's actually not so bad. The translation of Mega Man's run 'n gun gameplay onto a smaller, more crunched screen didn't detract anything at all, surprisingly enough. It's NES Mega Man as you know it, just with smaller rooms that make the game a bit simpler and more fast-paced to play. It's a very faithful recreation.
Each stage is taken from Mega Man 1, which may present the question "is it worth playing this if I'm just basically playing the same stages on a handheld?" If you're not that into Mega Man, then probably not, but let's say you are, in which case these are not actually the same stages from the NES counterpart. Sure, they share the same music and theme, but the layouts are completely different, along with an occasional new enemy or level mechanic. If you're just looking for more Mega Man, you can't go wrong with this one.
That is, until you get to the final stage, anyway. You know how every Mega Man has a set of about 4 to 5 final stages? Some genius here decided that for their handheld on-the-go spinoff, they should actually just give you one single very long stage that's equal to about 4 stages of length. And while the rest of the game has been well balanced so far, this final stage is peppered with constant bottomless pits, and instant death spikes that you won't see coming until it's too late. It's pure trial 'n error, and it fucking blows.
My recommendation is to play the initial romp of stages as you normally would, then bring out the save states for the final stage. If you do that, Dr. Wily's Revenge is not a bad time for a Mega Man fan. But if you're not that familiar with the franchise, then you can safely skip this.
Each stage is taken from Mega Man 1, which may present the question "is it worth playing this if I'm just basically playing the same stages on a handheld?" If you're not that into Mega Man, then probably not, but let's say you are, in which case these are not actually the same stages from the NES counterpart. Sure, they share the same music and theme, but the layouts are completely different, along with an occasional new enemy or level mechanic. If you're just looking for more Mega Man, you can't go wrong with this one.
That is, until you get to the final stage, anyway. You know how every Mega Man has a set of about 4 to 5 final stages? Some genius here decided that for their handheld on-the-go spinoff, they should actually just give you one single very long stage that's equal to about 4 stages of length. And while the rest of the game has been well balanced so far, this final stage is peppered with constant bottomless pits, and instant death spikes that you won't see coming until it's too late. It's pure trial 'n error, and it fucking blows.
My recommendation is to play the initial romp of stages as you normally would, then bring out the save states for the final stage. If you do that, Dr. Wily's Revenge is not a bad time for a Mega Man fan. But if you're not that familiar with the franchise, then you can safely skip this.
2023
Sonic Superstars is like if Sonic 4 was given the polish and refinement it needed, but was just as creatively blank. Now, when you move and jump around, you can go to yourself "Oh yeah, this feels right." But once I got used to that, I was left with a perfectly servicable platformer that I don't think I'm going to remember a week from now.
it's weird, because when you compare the two, Sonic Mania has far worse problems with originality than Superstars does. At least Superstars's zones are all technically original, and the idea of tying a unique power to each emerald isn't a bad one either. But Mania's 4 original zones still somehow supercede everything that Superstars tries to do. I get the feeling I'm gonna need some time to think about this game, because right now, I'm not sure if I can place why have I felt absolutely no excitement playing it.
Perhaps the move away from fluid 2D spritework has miffed me. Perhaps when Sonic Team decided to abandon Mania's reliance on fan service, it turned out that it didn't have much else to offer besides chopped up fascimiles of the series's past levels, just rebranded with a new name. Perhaps it's the neat soundtrack getting consistently interrupted by Jun Senoue letting everybody know that after a whole decade, he still hasn't found more than one snare sample to use in his music.
I've no clue. Beyond some frustration with the game's later bosses, and the amount of waiting you have to do before you can attack them, I can't say I felt much playing it. I'm not even sure why I played it. I've been waiting years for Sonic to become this amazing franchise, to live up to the potential that I always hoped it would live up to, when all it seems to settle for these days is being "good enough." Where every title is deemed "a step in the right direction." But I don't want to be taking steps in the right direction anymore. I want to BE in the right direction. And I want to sit down, and remain there. Yet, I keep walking...
it's weird, because when you compare the two, Sonic Mania has far worse problems with originality than Superstars does. At least Superstars's zones are all technically original, and the idea of tying a unique power to each emerald isn't a bad one either. But Mania's 4 original zones still somehow supercede everything that Superstars tries to do. I get the feeling I'm gonna need some time to think about this game, because right now, I'm not sure if I can place why have I felt absolutely no excitement playing it.
Perhaps the move away from fluid 2D spritework has miffed me. Perhaps when Sonic Team decided to abandon Mania's reliance on fan service, it turned out that it didn't have much else to offer besides chopped up fascimiles of the series's past levels, just rebranded with a new name. Perhaps it's the neat soundtrack getting consistently interrupted by Jun Senoue letting everybody know that after a whole decade, he still hasn't found more than one snare sample to use in his music.
I've no clue. Beyond some frustration with the game's later bosses, and the amount of waiting you have to do before you can attack them, I can't say I felt much playing it. I'm not even sure why I played it. I've been waiting years for Sonic to become this amazing franchise, to live up to the potential that I always hoped it would live up to, when all it seems to settle for these days is being "good enough." Where every title is deemed "a step in the right direction." But I don't want to be taking steps in the right direction anymore. I want to BE in the right direction. And I want to sit down, and remain there. Yet, I keep walking...
1990
Mario World is mechanically sound, with the best controls of any Mario game so far. Everything about how the game feels is tight and responsive. The in-air mobility, the turning, the way you control your jump height, the build-up of your speed and how you maintain it as you sprint across the stage, the way you slide and duck under obstacles, or spin jump on enemies that previously couldn't be bounced on... it's all perfect.
The world map had some tradeoffs, such as a lack of the Mario 3 minigames and enemy encounters, but in its place came a more open-ended world design, where finding secret exits in stages can allow you to beat the game through different routes. I enjoyed the freedom this allowed, whether you wanna find the shortest or longest route to the end of the game, or just do a casual run by taking as few secret exits as possible.
It's a very well refined game, but sometimes, I feel like refinements is all it has. Comparably, I play Mario 3 more often than Mario World, and I think this is because Mario World feels like... "another one." Whereas Mario 3 had the neat little stage play theme and a ton of new ideas, Mario World feels more confused about what it's trying to do. It's supposed to be a dinosaur and food-themed setting, but I didn't get that vibe at all. The levels are named after food, but they don't look like they're made of food at all to me.
Meanwhile, the dinosaurs ARE there, they're your enemies, sometimes I have to remember Yoshi is a dinosaur too, but, I just can't help but feel like these elements should've been leaned into harder than they were.
Because right now, what this game feels like is a mild mix of those elements, with a greater focus on generic level themes that don't take advantage of them. I'll be honest with you, I don't know what you could do differently to make this game feel more unique than it already is, maybe more prehistoric settings? More blatant food-themed levels, the kind that look delicious when you step into them? I dunno, something about this game feels very withheld.
Keeping in mind that I still think this game is fun, here's another nitpick. This one is what I call the "Koji Kondo dilemma." Koji Kondo has made some of the greatest songs in video game history, and this game is no exception. These things are stuck in my head, and I will never get them out. The dilemma is this: Every song that Koji Kondo makes is good, but he does not make many of them. As a result, you wind up hearing the same 4 songs over and over throughout the 3-5 hours that this game will take you to 100%.
I think this amount of songs would've been acceptable back in the NES days due to size constraints, but with the introduction of a new fancy 16-bit console, I strongly believe that Koji should've composed a greater variety of songs to take advantage of it. On the other hand, it's possible that composing the already-existing songs was a difficult process, and I've heard the game had to be rushed anyway, so there wasn't much of a choice.
Thing is, the Koji Kondo dilemma would've persisted for several more games after this. Amazing songs, but not a whole lot of them. Initially, they're enough to carry the whole game, but let's say you've replayed it 10 or 20 times like I did, there comes a point where you realize the lacking music variety becomes tiring to hear, and that dilemma wouldn't have existed if each world had at least 1 or 2 unique tracks to call its own. Like I said, this is all a nitpick, but it is one I've been thinking about more and more lately.
My thoughts on Super Mario World come down to this. Fun to play, but not particularly impressive for an SNES launch title that should've been there to showcase the system's true capabilities. it feels safe. Very safe. Moreof a continuation of Mario 3, rather than the next big step in the Mario series. But if you just want a fun Mario game, who gives a shit? This one does its job as well as it can. But I can't help but feel that there's something missing here.
The world map had some tradeoffs, such as a lack of the Mario 3 minigames and enemy encounters, but in its place came a more open-ended world design, where finding secret exits in stages can allow you to beat the game through different routes. I enjoyed the freedom this allowed, whether you wanna find the shortest or longest route to the end of the game, or just do a casual run by taking as few secret exits as possible.
It's a very well refined game, but sometimes, I feel like refinements is all it has. Comparably, I play Mario 3 more often than Mario World, and I think this is because Mario World feels like... "another one." Whereas Mario 3 had the neat little stage play theme and a ton of new ideas, Mario World feels more confused about what it's trying to do. It's supposed to be a dinosaur and food-themed setting, but I didn't get that vibe at all. The levels are named after food, but they don't look like they're made of food at all to me.
Meanwhile, the dinosaurs ARE there, they're your enemies, sometimes I have to remember Yoshi is a dinosaur too, but, I just can't help but feel like these elements should've been leaned into harder than they were.
Because right now, what this game feels like is a mild mix of those elements, with a greater focus on generic level themes that don't take advantage of them. I'll be honest with you, I don't know what you could do differently to make this game feel more unique than it already is, maybe more prehistoric settings? More blatant food-themed levels, the kind that look delicious when you step into them? I dunno, something about this game feels very withheld.
Keeping in mind that I still think this game is fun, here's another nitpick. This one is what I call the "Koji Kondo dilemma." Koji Kondo has made some of the greatest songs in video game history, and this game is no exception. These things are stuck in my head, and I will never get them out. The dilemma is this: Every song that Koji Kondo makes is good, but he does not make many of them. As a result, you wind up hearing the same 4 songs over and over throughout the 3-5 hours that this game will take you to 100%.
I think this amount of songs would've been acceptable back in the NES days due to size constraints, but with the introduction of a new fancy 16-bit console, I strongly believe that Koji should've composed a greater variety of songs to take advantage of it. On the other hand, it's possible that composing the already-existing songs was a difficult process, and I've heard the game had to be rushed anyway, so there wasn't much of a choice.
Thing is, the Koji Kondo dilemma would've persisted for several more games after this. Amazing songs, but not a whole lot of them. Initially, they're enough to carry the whole game, but let's say you've replayed it 10 or 20 times like I did, there comes a point where you realize the lacking music variety becomes tiring to hear, and that dilemma wouldn't have existed if each world had at least 1 or 2 unique tracks to call its own. Like I said, this is all a nitpick, but it is one I've been thinking about more and more lately.
My thoughts on Super Mario World come down to this. Fun to play, but not particularly impressive for an SNES launch title that should've been there to showcase the system's true capabilities. it feels safe. Very safe. Moreof a continuation of Mario 3, rather than the next big step in the Mario series. But if you just want a fun Mario game, who gives a shit? This one does its job as well as it can. But I can't help but feel that there's something missing here.
If I'm ever looking for the type of game that's guaranteed to satisfy me on just about every aspect, I know I'm looking for a kind of platformer where every single level is at least 2 to 4 new mechanics relentlessly shoved down my throat, paired up with some of the most refined, godlike controls. Donkey Kong Country 2, Rayman Legends, maybe even the Spyro trilogy. All these, and Yoshi's Island too, fall under the same boat of games with such enormous confidence and passion put behind them, that I don't have to think twice about booting them up the moment I think about them.
On a side note, how many people actually call this game "Mario World 2?" Because I just use the "Yoshi's Island" subtitle to refer to it, and I do so because this thing is so far removed from the actual Mario World, that at times I don't really know whether it counts as a mainline Mario game, or a very elaborate spinoff of it, with the World moniker used to give it some marketing push. And I mean, starting from Yoshi's Story onward, all the way to the kinda middling Yoshi's Crafted World, it then really did become a spinoff franchise. Mario's just a guest character here, the run button is absent in favor of an automatic windup run, and stomping is a mere side ability in favor of the considerably more complex loop of creating egg ammunition out of enemies, aiming your shots, ricocheting them across walls, and skipping them across lakes of water.
With a little practice, it takes astoundingly quick to get used to these mechanics, not to mention how little of your time they actually waste. Being able to move around while aiming prevents the flow of gameplay from stopping, alongside the ability to instantly aim above you by holding up before readying the egg shot. The design rejects constraining its gameplay to a janky "stop 'n go" set of movements, and must've spent years being refined to ensure every action you perform can be done while on the move. Which is such a huge thing to appreciate, considering how most developers would've likely bungled this sort of thing on their first try, yet released it anyway. But Miyamoto's team had already perfected it here.
Aside from the variety of mechanics present at each stage, something else I adore is the huge amount of stages present in itself. While ultimately less than the 96 stages of the first Mario World, Yoshi's Island's 48 stages manage to still feel bigger by abandoning Mario World 1's more arcadey setup. Gone is the time limit, and gone is the conventional high score on the top left of the screen. Yoshi Island's HUD is by comparison a lot more minimalistic, and this was done to encourage playing levels thoroughly, not quickly.
Exploration is the main dish of the game, and by god there's so much shit to find. Secrets galore, things that are just there for fun and not to actually serve any purpose. There are entire mechanics locked away behind secret pathways which you'll otherwise never see if you're speedrunning the thing. Every 4 levels you run into a new boss, and it's not like the previous games where it's a bunch of the same boring Koopaling fights, no! Every boss is different, every boss is fought differently. You get swallowed by a giant frog, you fight a crow on the moon, you destroy platforms to send an invincible monster down a lava pit, and none of these are ever repeated. Which is more than what I can say for even something as creative as Mario Wonder - which is still a fantastic game, mind you - but nothing has yet to match the unbridled creativity of Yoshi's Island, a delicious pot of hundreds of ideas that has no end to it at all until the moment you see the credits.
So, I guess this is where I talk about my rating being a 4.5 instead of a 5/5, right? Well, believe it or not, the Baby Mario cry is not the reason. Actually, I've always been confused about that, is it really THAT bad to people? I mean, one thing for sure is that it fulfills its point. It serves to make you frantically scramble to get Baby Mario back as soon as you can, before that timer reaches 0. But, like, it being "annoying/ear grating" though? Eh, it's fine, really. Maybe I have a higher tolerance for this stuff or something.
The flaw of Yoshi's Island I really want to talk about is the difference between casual exploration, and obsessive completionism. So, just to catch up newcomers, every level can be 100%ed, right? There are three conditions for this. Collect all 20 Red Coins, all 5 Flowers, and reach the end goal with 30 Stars. First things first, part of what makes the Red Coins suck is that they're only just SLIGHTLY red, but otherwise, blend in with all the other yellow coins. I have partial color blindness, so being able to tell apart the color falls out of the question. While the solution to this would be "well, just grab all the coins then, they give you extra lifes anyway, it's a win-win" but sometimes, the game will put you into a situation where you only have one shot to grab the coins, whether it's when you're falling down, or moving across an autoscrolling sequence. I'm aware there's an item you can use that makes red coins much more obvious to see, but... that's assuming you're lucky to actually get it in one of the minigames, and why obtuse it like that anyway? What would've been the harm in making the red coins look more obvious by default?
The next problem are the "Stars" collectibles. Stars are your health, and you can cap'em out at 30. Of course, as you take damage, your Stars decrease. Now, the thing is, to 100% a level, the more sensible thing would be to punish you if, say, you took damage 3 times across the stage. Instead, what Yoshi's Island decides is that you can collect as many Stars as you want throughout the level, but if you so much as take one sliver of damage at the very tail end of it, then that's it for the 100% run, you're gonna have to do the stage all over again.
What makes this worse is that you can't 100% this stage by, for example, doing one run where you collect all the Red Coins and Flowers, then another run just to do the 30 Stars. You gotta do everything, all at once. Collect all the shit, find all the secrets, AND make it to the end of the level without taking damage, and only then will the game consider that level fully completed. To me, that's an insane set of conditions considering the larger scope of each stage, and ultimately, I've only ever done a 100% run once because of this. Which is enough for a lifetime.
"So, 100%ing sucks, why do it at all then?" Good question. The point of this entire tattletale is me saying it's not worth it. Instead, it's much better to play it as if you're attempting to 100% for the sake of discovering all the cool little secrets the game has to offer, BUT if you miss something, then you should just live with it, and move on. The only real big shame about this is that 100%ing unlocks an extra set of neat stages for you to play through, and I wish I could unlock these stages without it being this massive chore. As a whole, Yoshi's Island is some of the best platforming you'll ever get, contrasted against some of the most painful completionism that there is. Thus, play it casually for the best possible experience.
Oh yeah, I got a hot take too. The overworld theme is admittingly very memorable, but I'm really not a big fan of that harmonica. If we're talking "ear grating noises", then this is the closest thing I can point at, I just don't like it. In general, I feel like there's not enough music in this game to match the amount of varied content present in it, which in itself makes the overworld theme get worse over time. Anyway, it's not that big of a deal, I mean, the athletic theme is fantastic, and so is the castle theme, the boss theme, the final boss theme... there's still really good stuff in here, even if there's not much of it.
And that's that for my review! Good night.
On a side note, how many people actually call this game "Mario World 2?" Because I just use the "Yoshi's Island" subtitle to refer to it, and I do so because this thing is so far removed from the actual Mario World, that at times I don't really know whether it counts as a mainline Mario game, or a very elaborate spinoff of it, with the World moniker used to give it some marketing push. And I mean, starting from Yoshi's Story onward, all the way to the kinda middling Yoshi's Crafted World, it then really did become a spinoff franchise. Mario's just a guest character here, the run button is absent in favor of an automatic windup run, and stomping is a mere side ability in favor of the considerably more complex loop of creating egg ammunition out of enemies, aiming your shots, ricocheting them across walls, and skipping them across lakes of water.
With a little practice, it takes astoundingly quick to get used to these mechanics, not to mention how little of your time they actually waste. Being able to move around while aiming prevents the flow of gameplay from stopping, alongside the ability to instantly aim above you by holding up before readying the egg shot. The design rejects constraining its gameplay to a janky "stop 'n go" set of movements, and must've spent years being refined to ensure every action you perform can be done while on the move. Which is such a huge thing to appreciate, considering how most developers would've likely bungled this sort of thing on their first try, yet released it anyway. But Miyamoto's team had already perfected it here.
Aside from the variety of mechanics present at each stage, something else I adore is the huge amount of stages present in itself. While ultimately less than the 96 stages of the first Mario World, Yoshi's Island's 48 stages manage to still feel bigger by abandoning Mario World 1's more arcadey setup. Gone is the time limit, and gone is the conventional high score on the top left of the screen. Yoshi Island's HUD is by comparison a lot more minimalistic, and this was done to encourage playing levels thoroughly, not quickly.
Exploration is the main dish of the game, and by god there's so much shit to find. Secrets galore, things that are just there for fun and not to actually serve any purpose. There are entire mechanics locked away behind secret pathways which you'll otherwise never see if you're speedrunning the thing. Every 4 levels you run into a new boss, and it's not like the previous games where it's a bunch of the same boring Koopaling fights, no! Every boss is different, every boss is fought differently. You get swallowed by a giant frog, you fight a crow on the moon, you destroy platforms to send an invincible monster down a lava pit, and none of these are ever repeated. Which is more than what I can say for even something as creative as Mario Wonder - which is still a fantastic game, mind you - but nothing has yet to match the unbridled creativity of Yoshi's Island, a delicious pot of hundreds of ideas that has no end to it at all until the moment you see the credits.
So, I guess this is where I talk about my rating being a 4.5 instead of a 5/5, right? Well, believe it or not, the Baby Mario cry is not the reason. Actually, I've always been confused about that, is it really THAT bad to people? I mean, one thing for sure is that it fulfills its point. It serves to make you frantically scramble to get Baby Mario back as soon as you can, before that timer reaches 0. But, like, it being "annoying/ear grating" though? Eh, it's fine, really. Maybe I have a higher tolerance for this stuff or something.
The flaw of Yoshi's Island I really want to talk about is the difference between casual exploration, and obsessive completionism. So, just to catch up newcomers, every level can be 100%ed, right? There are three conditions for this. Collect all 20 Red Coins, all 5 Flowers, and reach the end goal with 30 Stars. First things first, part of what makes the Red Coins suck is that they're only just SLIGHTLY red, but otherwise, blend in with all the other yellow coins. I have partial color blindness, so being able to tell apart the color falls out of the question. While the solution to this would be "well, just grab all the coins then, they give you extra lifes anyway, it's a win-win" but sometimes, the game will put you into a situation where you only have one shot to grab the coins, whether it's when you're falling down, or moving across an autoscrolling sequence. I'm aware there's an item you can use that makes red coins much more obvious to see, but... that's assuming you're lucky to actually get it in one of the minigames, and why obtuse it like that anyway? What would've been the harm in making the red coins look more obvious by default?
The next problem are the "Stars" collectibles. Stars are your health, and you can cap'em out at 30. Of course, as you take damage, your Stars decrease. Now, the thing is, to 100% a level, the more sensible thing would be to punish you if, say, you took damage 3 times across the stage. Instead, what Yoshi's Island decides is that you can collect as many Stars as you want throughout the level, but if you so much as take one sliver of damage at the very tail end of it, then that's it for the 100% run, you're gonna have to do the stage all over again.
What makes this worse is that you can't 100% this stage by, for example, doing one run where you collect all the Red Coins and Flowers, then another run just to do the 30 Stars. You gotta do everything, all at once. Collect all the shit, find all the secrets, AND make it to the end of the level without taking damage, and only then will the game consider that level fully completed. To me, that's an insane set of conditions considering the larger scope of each stage, and ultimately, I've only ever done a 100% run once because of this. Which is enough for a lifetime.
"So, 100%ing sucks, why do it at all then?" Good question. The point of this entire tattletale is me saying it's not worth it. Instead, it's much better to play it as if you're attempting to 100% for the sake of discovering all the cool little secrets the game has to offer, BUT if you miss something, then you should just live with it, and move on. The only real big shame about this is that 100%ing unlocks an extra set of neat stages for you to play through, and I wish I could unlock these stages without it being this massive chore. As a whole, Yoshi's Island is some of the best platforming you'll ever get, contrasted against some of the most painful completionism that there is. Thus, play it casually for the best possible experience.
Oh yeah, I got a hot take too. The overworld theme is admittingly very memorable, but I'm really not a big fan of that harmonica. If we're talking "ear grating noises", then this is the closest thing I can point at, I just don't like it. In general, I feel like there's not enough music in this game to match the amount of varied content present in it, which in itself makes the overworld theme get worse over time. Anyway, it's not that big of a deal, I mean, the athletic theme is fantastic, and so is the castle theme, the boss theme, the final boss theme... there's still really good stuff in here, even if there's not much of it.
And that's that for my review! Good night.
Mystic Quest isn't just plain boring. From a design viewpoint, it's downright amateurish. A game made for RPG beginners wasn't the problem in itself, I mean, Paper Mario pulled it off and I love those games. Where Mystic Quest really falters is the belief that gameplay depth was what made their mainline Final Fantasies unapproachable. I hold the more likely belief that the original FF1 came out as a bug-ridden, sluggish, unbalanced, grind-heavy mess with a severe lack of QoL, and that's what turned some people off from it. FF4 comes out and people like it, because in spite of that game streamlining many elements of the series and making things more linear for it, that kind of thing can only "get you" into a game. Whether it'll retain your attention for the rest of it is another matter, FF4 made up for that through its more involved storyline, and a combat system that remained complex and varied enough to encourage experimentation, and pressuring you to think on your feet.
In contrast, Mystic Quest's simplicity is capable of getting you into it, but that's it. As the dungeons start ramping up the amount of enemies, the game wears down your patience through the same repetitious button-mashing tactics against the exact same formation of enemies, tossed at you some 70-90 times. Most RPG's are like this to be fair, but if you like the genre, you don't have this visceral realization that the game is wasting your time with battles, the point for them is to be relaxing and always leading you towards a dropped item, or a new level up. But in Mystic Quest, the balance is all sorts of unsatisfying. Level ups take agonizingly long to obtain after a while, enemies don't drop shit, and even as you level up or obtain stronger armor and weapons, the difference is negligible in practice, with often a scant few points of additional damage to an enemy, but always, and I mean ALWAYS, the same amount of turns required to defeat them.
Your main character is always weak, your partner is always stronger. Your partner will always take everything down in one hit, you will always take them out in two. Even as you get the Excalibur, which is often the ultimate weapon in a Final Fantasy game, taking it out for a test reveals that it still takes the exact same amount of turns to defeat an enemy. Not even the Excalibur is capable of making a dent in this game's infuriatingly perfect balance, where you're only as powerful as the game wants you to be at that moment, and it always wants you to be at the exact amount of power that you've started the adventure on. In a way, everything is intended in most video games. But Mystic Quest does the poorest job at hiding it, making it clear to you that the fun of this game is dictated, and never in your control.
Considering that there are no random encounters, the game gives you a choice of which enemies you want to engage with. That's assuming they're not blocking your way, of course. But, since I fought every single one and thus fought way more enemies than I'd like to have, there was a question roaming through my mind. "Am I playing this wrong? Should I be trying to avoid as many enemies as I can?" I could never figure out the answer to these questions. You have more than enough resources to take all of them on without getting anywhere close to running dry, so the game wasn't incentivizing me to be careful with what I fight. On the other hand, even as I fought and amassed as much EXP as I could throughout the game, enemies and bosses are still capable of hitting you real hard. Which makes me wonder what it would be like if I did dodge a handful of level ups. How much harder would the game be then?
One way or the other, it has to be stressed that even at a high level, the difficulty of this game is some bullshit. Enemies just love to spam status effects, stuff like Stone, Paralysis, Sleep, Confusion... Combine the sheer frequency of these things with there only being two characters you can bring into battle, and enemies are extremely likely to instantly evaporate you. There are no buffs to protect yourself or anything, all it takes is one unlucky turn where at least two enemies choose to inflict a status effect on you, and you're done. And this will happen FAR more often than you'd think.
Dying's not such a big deal though, since the game allows you to restart from the last fight you died in without any hassle, plus, you can save anywhere, even in dungeons. That's nice, at least. But y'know, think about that for a sec. Think about how without these two features, the experience at hand would be very, very different. Imagine only being able to save in certain spots, and then you get 30 minutes into a dungeon and suddenly, an enemy inflicts Stone on you. You're dead, start over. This is the kind of balance we're talking about here. Built-in save states are the only thing that turn Mystic Quest from an unplayable garbage pile to a mindless bore with zero stakes. Strategy is irrelevant, your only option is to keep trying until you stop dying. Like a paradox, it is simultaneously way too easy, and yet one step away from being impossible.
Coming from the team that made Final Fantasy Legend III, while that game was far from a worthwhile playthrough, I'm stupified by this being what they followed things up with. No depth in the gameplay, no ambition in the story, a game whose entire purpose is to dumb itself down to an audience that wasn't going to play it. Truly, the more I think about the decisions made around this game, the worse it gets in my eyes. It does get at least one bonus star for the soundtrack, though, if there's anything you'll hear about this game, it's that. Take a listen to it. Enjoy it. Then move on to your next RPG.
In contrast, Mystic Quest's simplicity is capable of getting you into it, but that's it. As the dungeons start ramping up the amount of enemies, the game wears down your patience through the same repetitious button-mashing tactics against the exact same formation of enemies, tossed at you some 70-90 times. Most RPG's are like this to be fair, but if you like the genre, you don't have this visceral realization that the game is wasting your time with battles, the point for them is to be relaxing and always leading you towards a dropped item, or a new level up. But in Mystic Quest, the balance is all sorts of unsatisfying. Level ups take agonizingly long to obtain after a while, enemies don't drop shit, and even as you level up or obtain stronger armor and weapons, the difference is negligible in practice, with often a scant few points of additional damage to an enemy, but always, and I mean ALWAYS, the same amount of turns required to defeat them.
Your main character is always weak, your partner is always stronger. Your partner will always take everything down in one hit, you will always take them out in two. Even as you get the Excalibur, which is often the ultimate weapon in a Final Fantasy game, taking it out for a test reveals that it still takes the exact same amount of turns to defeat an enemy. Not even the Excalibur is capable of making a dent in this game's infuriatingly perfect balance, where you're only as powerful as the game wants you to be at that moment, and it always wants you to be at the exact amount of power that you've started the adventure on. In a way, everything is intended in most video games. But Mystic Quest does the poorest job at hiding it, making it clear to you that the fun of this game is dictated, and never in your control.
Considering that there are no random encounters, the game gives you a choice of which enemies you want to engage with. That's assuming they're not blocking your way, of course. But, since I fought every single one and thus fought way more enemies than I'd like to have, there was a question roaming through my mind. "Am I playing this wrong? Should I be trying to avoid as many enemies as I can?" I could never figure out the answer to these questions. You have more than enough resources to take all of them on without getting anywhere close to running dry, so the game wasn't incentivizing me to be careful with what I fight. On the other hand, even as I fought and amassed as much EXP as I could throughout the game, enemies and bosses are still capable of hitting you real hard. Which makes me wonder what it would be like if I did dodge a handful of level ups. How much harder would the game be then?
One way or the other, it has to be stressed that even at a high level, the difficulty of this game is some bullshit. Enemies just love to spam status effects, stuff like Stone, Paralysis, Sleep, Confusion... Combine the sheer frequency of these things with there only being two characters you can bring into battle, and enemies are extremely likely to instantly evaporate you. There are no buffs to protect yourself or anything, all it takes is one unlucky turn where at least two enemies choose to inflict a status effect on you, and you're done. And this will happen FAR more often than you'd think.
Dying's not such a big deal though, since the game allows you to restart from the last fight you died in without any hassle, plus, you can save anywhere, even in dungeons. That's nice, at least. But y'know, think about that for a sec. Think about how without these two features, the experience at hand would be very, very different. Imagine only being able to save in certain spots, and then you get 30 minutes into a dungeon and suddenly, an enemy inflicts Stone on you. You're dead, start over. This is the kind of balance we're talking about here. Built-in save states are the only thing that turn Mystic Quest from an unplayable garbage pile to a mindless bore with zero stakes. Strategy is irrelevant, your only option is to keep trying until you stop dying. Like a paradox, it is simultaneously way too easy, and yet one step away from being impossible.
Coming from the team that made Final Fantasy Legend III, while that game was far from a worthwhile playthrough, I'm stupified by this being what they followed things up with. No depth in the gameplay, no ambition in the story, a game whose entire purpose is to dumb itself down to an audience that wasn't going to play it. Truly, the more I think about the decisions made around this game, the worse it gets in my eyes. It does get at least one bonus star for the soundtrack, though, if there's anything you'll hear about this game, it's that. Take a listen to it. Enjoy it. Then move on to your next RPG.
1994
After over four Gameboy games that spent their time regurtitating level themes from the NES Mega Mans, the final fifth Gameboy game throws in a surprise: it's a fully original title! Hey, whoever gave up on the Gameboy games after two or three of them, did you hear me?! THIS ONE'S ORIGINAL! COME BACK!
They had the opportunity to throw in some levels from Mega Man 5 & 6, and call it a day. Instead, Mega Man V chose to create its own robot masters and its own set of stages, centered around cosmic planetary themes. One boss is called Venus, the other is Jupiter, and so on, and so forth. Levels are imbued with newly-created mechanics to spice things up here and there, and I've found the arsenal of weapons to be more interesting this time around, such as a weapon that saps enemy health and gives it to you.
The game feels like it's trying to do some creative things from a team that wanted to push the boundaries of what was expected from them, to create a Mega Man title that they could call their own. There's a sincerity to it, a much greater sincerity than some of the more recent Mega Man games that seem to exist just for the sake of sucking out all the honey from the formula. Of course, the gameplay here isn't anything new, it's still Mega Man, you still platform and shoot things to death... it's the aesthetic that shines brighter, it's the music that hits harder (I love the Venus theme, it feels so unconventional for a Mega Man title but it gets stuck in your head so easily), it's the level design that's more enjoyable. It's the same, yet it feels so much fresher in all the subtle ways.
Overall, an underrated title. It only took them 5 tries, but Capcom finally landed on a Gameboy Mega Man that's memorable, and would be likely to make you come back for more, especially as a Mega Man fan. Highly recommended.
They had the opportunity to throw in some levels from Mega Man 5 & 6, and call it a day. Instead, Mega Man V chose to create its own robot masters and its own set of stages, centered around cosmic planetary themes. One boss is called Venus, the other is Jupiter, and so on, and so forth. Levels are imbued with newly-created mechanics to spice things up here and there, and I've found the arsenal of weapons to be more interesting this time around, such as a weapon that saps enemy health and gives it to you.
The game feels like it's trying to do some creative things from a team that wanted to push the boundaries of what was expected from them, to create a Mega Man title that they could call their own. There's a sincerity to it, a much greater sincerity than some of the more recent Mega Man games that seem to exist just for the sake of sucking out all the honey from the formula. Of course, the gameplay here isn't anything new, it's still Mega Man, you still platform and shoot things to death... it's the aesthetic that shines brighter, it's the music that hits harder (I love the Venus theme, it feels so unconventional for a Mega Man title but it gets stuck in your head so easily), it's the level design that's more enjoyable. It's the same, yet it feels so much fresher in all the subtle ways.
Overall, an underrated title. It only took them 5 tries, but Capcom finally landed on a Gameboy Mega Man that's memorable, and would be likely to make you come back for more, especially as a Mega Man fan. Highly recommended.
1994
There's more to this game than meets the eye, and it seems that Nintendo wanted you to think just that. Which, in hindsight? Not the wisest strategy. You're gonna look at the box art, and you're likely to think "Donkey Kong? Like, the original one? Do I really need to play a Gameboy version of that, among all the other ports available?" Then you play it, and you kinda think to yourself "Yep, it's... Donkey Kong alright." The same four stages, the same goal, what appears to seemingly be the same mechanics.
It's not until those four stages are over that the game shows you exactly why you should be distinguishing it by the title of "Donkey Kong '94", instead of calling it another Donkey Kong port. There's a whole new game hidden behind its innoucuous appearance, a reimagining if you will, of the original concept. It's not about earning a high score anymore, it's got a sense of progression that's very akin to other Mario games. Traveling across a series of 9 worlds, level by level, with boss fights in-between. It's a game with a longevity meant to last, and... it's pretty damn well put together.
This game would also be the first to give Mario a more acrobatic moveset, stuff like side jumps, higher jumps achieved by timing your button presses as you touch the ground... while I'm not certain if Mario 64 was directly inspired by this game, or whether its inclusion of similar moves was a pure coincidence, it's still neat to see these moves date further back than what most people may think. Donkey Kong '94 overall plays quite nicely with these moves, allowing you to execute some crafty tricks here and there to traverse these bite-sized levels more efficiently. There was lots of thought and care put behind this entry, and I really think everyone needs to give it a go.
So, why did I abandon it? It's purely a problem of my own, not with the game, the 3.5 star rating is a subjective one. But, something that has to be kept in mind is that Donkey Kong '94 has the progression of a Mario game, the platforming of a Mario game, but a much heavier puzzle-centric design that may turn off some Mario fans, and that includes me.
The puzzles that require solving start off light enough, just a little bit of managable thinking. The later levels, not so much. There eventually comes a point where every level or two had me stumped. And while that's not necessarily a bad thing, (after all, a puzzle that doesn't stump you is not a good puzzle) I have come to accept that I'm not really a puzzle person unless we're talking about infrequent, occasional puzzles that are frequently broken up by larger doses of straightforward design. Donkey Kong '94 eventually lets go of its straightforwardness, and becomes a fully consistent puzzle game that proves to be too much for my forehead to handle.
Something that doesn't help is the time limit, which I find anti-thetical to a game that emphasizes puzzles over action. If I have to do a puzzle, I'd rather be given all the time in the world to think about it, and experiment with the possibilities I have, instead of being pressured to solve it as fast as possible. I think the time limit especially is what killed my enjoyment of the game, as even if I decided to adapt a more patient mentality towards how to play the game, it is clear that the game itself does not want me to be patient, and feels like it's going against its own messaging.
For puzzle fans, I'd rate this 4 stars. For myself and my own experience, it was a 3.5, cutting it kinda close to a straight 3 with some of the later levels failing to maintain my engagement, and ultimately causing me to drop it. While the game is based on the Arcade original, its goals are far different. Different from the original, and different from most Mario games. Different enough that I am not part of the audience that will end up enjoying it.
It's not until those four stages are over that the game shows you exactly why you should be distinguishing it by the title of "Donkey Kong '94", instead of calling it another Donkey Kong port. There's a whole new game hidden behind its innoucuous appearance, a reimagining if you will, of the original concept. It's not about earning a high score anymore, it's got a sense of progression that's very akin to other Mario games. Traveling across a series of 9 worlds, level by level, with boss fights in-between. It's a game with a longevity meant to last, and... it's pretty damn well put together.
This game would also be the first to give Mario a more acrobatic moveset, stuff like side jumps, higher jumps achieved by timing your button presses as you touch the ground... while I'm not certain if Mario 64 was directly inspired by this game, or whether its inclusion of similar moves was a pure coincidence, it's still neat to see these moves date further back than what most people may think. Donkey Kong '94 overall plays quite nicely with these moves, allowing you to execute some crafty tricks here and there to traverse these bite-sized levels more efficiently. There was lots of thought and care put behind this entry, and I really think everyone needs to give it a go.
So, why did I abandon it? It's purely a problem of my own, not with the game, the 3.5 star rating is a subjective one. But, something that has to be kept in mind is that Donkey Kong '94 has the progression of a Mario game, the platforming of a Mario game, but a much heavier puzzle-centric design that may turn off some Mario fans, and that includes me.
The puzzles that require solving start off light enough, just a little bit of managable thinking. The later levels, not so much. There eventually comes a point where every level or two had me stumped. And while that's not necessarily a bad thing, (after all, a puzzle that doesn't stump you is not a good puzzle) I have come to accept that I'm not really a puzzle person unless we're talking about infrequent, occasional puzzles that are frequently broken up by larger doses of straightforward design. Donkey Kong '94 eventually lets go of its straightforwardness, and becomes a fully consistent puzzle game that proves to be too much for my forehead to handle.
Something that doesn't help is the time limit, which I find anti-thetical to a game that emphasizes puzzles over action. If I have to do a puzzle, I'd rather be given all the time in the world to think about it, and experiment with the possibilities I have, instead of being pressured to solve it as fast as possible. I think the time limit especially is what killed my enjoyment of the game, as even if I decided to adapt a more patient mentality towards how to play the game, it is clear that the game itself does not want me to be patient, and feels like it's going against its own messaging.
For puzzle fans, I'd rate this 4 stars. For myself and my own experience, it was a 3.5, cutting it kinda close to a straight 3 with some of the later levels failing to maintain my engagement, and ultimately causing me to drop it. While the game is based on the Arcade original, its goals are far different. Different from the original, and different from most Mario games. Different enough that I am not part of the audience that will end up enjoying it.
1993
Impressive for its time, but that frame rate takes some serious getting used to. And forget about using a romhack to increase it, you're just gonna wind up with a game that's too fast to react to things. Obviously, the game was designed with this frame rate in mind. But I just can't get over that, and would rather play the later Star Foxes instead.
1994
Because I grew up with the later Metroid titles, coming back to Super Metroid takes some adjusting. The controls are floatier, the inclusion of a run button feels a bit odd, and navigation can get pretty obtuse at times, especially since the game does not mark doors on your map, meaning what you might mistake for a dead end, could actually be progress. There's still some semblance of ironing out the kinks going on here, and it isn't what I would personally consider as the perfect Metroid experience.
But if I compared to this to the original Metroid 1 and 2 instead, then Super Metroid is a humongous leap in quality, and the first Metroid game I would feel confident recommending to people. Moreover, after I tried the game with the "Super Metroid: Redux" romhack, my prior nitpicks quickly faded away, and I could enjoy Super Metroid for what it really was: A fantastic metroidvania, well deserving of its praise, and one that was very ahead of its time.
One thing I hold a lot of praise for is its cinematic quality. In an age where games primarily positioned themselves as arcade experiences, Super Metroid expands on what Metroid 2 was too limited to do within the confines of the Gameboy, emphasizing a dark and atmospheric ambience. The action of the introductory sequence is preceded by a quiet solitude, dead bodies strewn all over, creating a story through its visuals before revealing the ultimate cause of the massacre. This trick is repeated one more time afterwards, settling you into a desolate and familiar planet, allowing you to soak in how it's changed since the last time you were here, only bringing out the real threats once you have disturbed and alerted the entire planet to your solitary and vulnerable presence.
And I mean, then there's the ending sequence, which I would rather not spoil, but if we're talking sequences that give me goosebumps, Super Metroid's ending may be the earliest possible example of this. It's not about giving you the ultimate challenge, but rather, it's to reinforce one last time that though you may be a powerful and legendary bounty hunter, you are still one single person at the end of the day. It is to reinforce that Samus Aran may get as powerful as she wants to, but that doesn't mean what she's fighting against will be any less unknown and unpredictable. This was not an adventure, it was a do-or-die mission where survival was only just barely obtained. And the game portrays this in the most visceral and cool way it possibly could've.
The exploration of Super Metroid is deceptively open-ended, offering next to no guidance, and further cementing the feeling of being stranded and alone. Thoroughness is recommended, as is memorization of certain inaccessible locations to an extent. But more than that, you'll want to accept quickly that your only goal in this game is to just go where the flow takes you. Don't hunt for anything specific. Just get lost in these caves, and study their layouts, until the time finally comes when you know your way around it all.
The lack of guidance also means that there is no predictable formula towards how soon or late you get your major upgrades, which makes the abrupt discovery of them all the more exciting. They could be at any corner, under any crevace, and it's likely that getting just one of them will change the way you play the game, and grant access to many possibilities that were previously not available. This is of course, a granted for Metroidvanias, but Super Metroid was the game that truly popularized the satisfaction of this kinda game design, and so it deserves the dibs on redundant descriptions of a genre's staple.
There is one problem that I've found with the exploration, and while not a huge deal, it is one that persists through pretty much every Metroid game there is. It is what I call "the missile dilemma." Among the various unique upgrades, Missile Capacity Upgrades are the most common collectible you'll find in a Metroid game. They are a part of what makes Samus stronger just as any other upgrade, but comparatively, they are the least exciting upgrades in these games. The dilemma stems from the fact that missile capacity upgrades also tend to be some of the hardest upgrades to obtain.
For balancing reasons, there's plenty of them that are quite simple to procure, but some of these things are locked behind some of the hardest challenges in the game, ones that require more advanced execution of the shinespark technique. And, my argument towards that is, for all the effort these particular challenges want you to go through, wouldn't it have been more exciting if your reward was a unique upgrade, rather than... another 5 more missiles worth of capacity?
The dilemma is further complicated by the fact that if you were to start gatekeeping important upgrades by putting them into these shinespark challenges, the rate of people who would complete this game would notably diminish. At the same time, the rewards that ARE currently there are underwhelming and not worth the strenuous hassle and multiple attempts worth of practice to reach them. The missiles that you obtain by playing the game casually are plenty enough to get you to the end, so why waste time on obtaining 5 more through a tough shinespark challenge? Just to get 100%? Other than bragging rights, it ain't worth it. But I understand that this is not an easy thing to address, and it's probably for the best that things stay this way rather than the other way around.
Overall, Super Metroid is an oppressive experience, one where it's easy to get overwhelmed by its sense of freedom. But this is to its advantage, crafting a game where a cool thing could be around any corner. Metroid really found its rhythm with this entry, so it's a shame it immediately lost it for about 8 years due to a lack of a N64 title. At least 2002 would go on to make up for Samus's absence with two major games.
Oh, and Save the Animals.
But if I compared to this to the original Metroid 1 and 2 instead, then Super Metroid is a humongous leap in quality, and the first Metroid game I would feel confident recommending to people. Moreover, after I tried the game with the "Super Metroid: Redux" romhack, my prior nitpicks quickly faded away, and I could enjoy Super Metroid for what it really was: A fantastic metroidvania, well deserving of its praise, and one that was very ahead of its time.
One thing I hold a lot of praise for is its cinematic quality. In an age where games primarily positioned themselves as arcade experiences, Super Metroid expands on what Metroid 2 was too limited to do within the confines of the Gameboy, emphasizing a dark and atmospheric ambience. The action of the introductory sequence is preceded by a quiet solitude, dead bodies strewn all over, creating a story through its visuals before revealing the ultimate cause of the massacre. This trick is repeated one more time afterwards, settling you into a desolate and familiar planet, allowing you to soak in how it's changed since the last time you were here, only bringing out the real threats once you have disturbed and alerted the entire planet to your solitary and vulnerable presence.
And I mean, then there's the ending sequence, which I would rather not spoil, but if we're talking sequences that give me goosebumps, Super Metroid's ending may be the earliest possible example of this. It's not about giving you the ultimate challenge, but rather, it's to reinforce one last time that though you may be a powerful and legendary bounty hunter, you are still one single person at the end of the day. It is to reinforce that Samus Aran may get as powerful as she wants to, but that doesn't mean what she's fighting against will be any less unknown and unpredictable. This was not an adventure, it was a do-or-die mission where survival was only just barely obtained. And the game portrays this in the most visceral and cool way it possibly could've.
The exploration of Super Metroid is deceptively open-ended, offering next to no guidance, and further cementing the feeling of being stranded and alone. Thoroughness is recommended, as is memorization of certain inaccessible locations to an extent. But more than that, you'll want to accept quickly that your only goal in this game is to just go where the flow takes you. Don't hunt for anything specific. Just get lost in these caves, and study their layouts, until the time finally comes when you know your way around it all.
The lack of guidance also means that there is no predictable formula towards how soon or late you get your major upgrades, which makes the abrupt discovery of them all the more exciting. They could be at any corner, under any crevace, and it's likely that getting just one of them will change the way you play the game, and grant access to many possibilities that were previously not available. This is of course, a granted for Metroidvanias, but Super Metroid was the game that truly popularized the satisfaction of this kinda game design, and so it deserves the dibs on redundant descriptions of a genre's staple.
There is one problem that I've found with the exploration, and while not a huge deal, it is one that persists through pretty much every Metroid game there is. It is what I call "the missile dilemma." Among the various unique upgrades, Missile Capacity Upgrades are the most common collectible you'll find in a Metroid game. They are a part of what makes Samus stronger just as any other upgrade, but comparatively, they are the least exciting upgrades in these games. The dilemma stems from the fact that missile capacity upgrades also tend to be some of the hardest upgrades to obtain.
For balancing reasons, there's plenty of them that are quite simple to procure, but some of these things are locked behind some of the hardest challenges in the game, ones that require more advanced execution of the shinespark technique. And, my argument towards that is, for all the effort these particular challenges want you to go through, wouldn't it have been more exciting if your reward was a unique upgrade, rather than... another 5 more missiles worth of capacity?
The dilemma is further complicated by the fact that if you were to start gatekeeping important upgrades by putting them into these shinespark challenges, the rate of people who would complete this game would notably diminish. At the same time, the rewards that ARE currently there are underwhelming and not worth the strenuous hassle and multiple attempts worth of practice to reach them. The missiles that you obtain by playing the game casually are plenty enough to get you to the end, so why waste time on obtaining 5 more through a tough shinespark challenge? Just to get 100%? Other than bragging rights, it ain't worth it. But I understand that this is not an easy thing to address, and it's probably for the best that things stay this way rather than the other way around.
Overall, Super Metroid is an oppressive experience, one where it's easy to get overwhelmed by its sense of freedom. But this is to its advantage, crafting a game where a cool thing could be around any corner. Metroid really found its rhythm with this entry, so it's a shame it immediately lost it for about 8 years due to a lack of a N64 title. At least 2002 would go on to make up for Samus's absence with two major games.
Oh, and Save the Animals.
1994
There comes a point where in your goal to push a franchise's spectacle as far as possible, you'll eventually hit an absolute limit on what you can do. Hard Corps is that limit. No other Contra game after this one managed to reach this level of insanity and creativity. They might still be fun, but they will all be aping what Hard Corps and Contra 3 already did, and did so perfectly. But, probably the most insane thing about it is that not many people talk about Hard Corps, even though this may very well be the best Contra game out there, more than the NES one, more than Contra 3.
I feel like I'm a broken machine everytime I talk about the impressiveness of a 90's Konami game made for the Genesis, but come on, you've played one or two of them, you know that you're in for some good shit with the next one. So, perhaps I could instead talk about Hard Corps introducing the choice of four playable characters, each with their own unique arsenal of weaponry? (although i'll obviously still use the guy with the spread shot, i mean, come on)
Or, how about the fact that there are now multiple routes, that lead to multiple different stages, that lead to multiple different endings? In Hard Corps, the replayability no longer just stems from practicing and mastering the same set of 6 stages. Now, there's choice, and that choice impacts the events that play out, and the obstacles you'll face. Perhaps you'll have a preferred route, or perhaps you'll want to master each individual one. The game leaves that up to you.
Still, it is Contra, and if you were ever looking for a point where Contra becomes more accessible, this ain't it. Everything's still a motherfucker to overcome, alongside your limited lifes and weakness to toe-stubs. Interestingly, I've learned that this is another one of those examples where the game was made harder over in the west. You've got three hits that you can take in the Japanese version, but you've only got one everywhere else, the classic Contra standard. Depending on what kind of player are you, seeking out a romhack that incorporates the 3-hit system may be recommended. Alternatively, a cheat code for more lifes.
And if you can't beat the game the way the western version intends, then trust me, you really do want to go out of your way to set up some cheats for yourself. Because whether you're good at Hard Corps or not, it's worth playing just so you can go "oh wow" or "oh shit!" every 10 seconds. Contra Hard Corps goes hard on every aspect. The soundtrack, the feel of the weapons, the graphics, the visual effects, the replayability... it's just so damn good that it's worth seeing no matter your skill ceiling. This, right here, is where Contra peaked, and more people need to be aware of that.
I feel like I'm a broken machine everytime I talk about the impressiveness of a 90's Konami game made for the Genesis, but come on, you've played one or two of them, you know that you're in for some good shit with the next one. So, perhaps I could instead talk about Hard Corps introducing the choice of four playable characters, each with their own unique arsenal of weaponry? (although i'll obviously still use the guy with the spread shot, i mean, come on)
Or, how about the fact that there are now multiple routes, that lead to multiple different stages, that lead to multiple different endings? In Hard Corps, the replayability no longer just stems from practicing and mastering the same set of 6 stages. Now, there's choice, and that choice impacts the events that play out, and the obstacles you'll face. Perhaps you'll have a preferred route, or perhaps you'll want to master each individual one. The game leaves that up to you.
Still, it is Contra, and if you were ever looking for a point where Contra becomes more accessible, this ain't it. Everything's still a motherfucker to overcome, alongside your limited lifes and weakness to toe-stubs. Interestingly, I've learned that this is another one of those examples where the game was made harder over in the west. You've got three hits that you can take in the Japanese version, but you've only got one everywhere else, the classic Contra standard. Depending on what kind of player are you, seeking out a romhack that incorporates the 3-hit system may be recommended. Alternatively, a cheat code for more lifes.
And if you can't beat the game the way the western version intends, then trust me, you really do want to go out of your way to set up some cheats for yourself. Because whether you're good at Hard Corps or not, it's worth playing just so you can go "oh wow" or "oh shit!" every 10 seconds. Contra Hard Corps goes hard on every aspect. The soundtrack, the feel of the weapons, the graphics, the visual effects, the replayability... it's just so damn good that it's worth seeing no matter your skill ceiling. This, right here, is where Contra peaked, and more people need to be aware of that.
1992
Probably the most average of the 6 NES Mega Mans. Prior to this one, I could name at least one major addition to the series. Mega Man 2 has the E-tanks, Mega Man 3 has the slide, Mega Man 4 has the charge shot. Mega Man 5? Uh, it has, um... improved charge shot graphics? Oh yeah, it has Beat, that bird companion you unlock after amassing enough collectibles. The thing is, I... don't ever use Beat, because Mega Man himself is all you need to really get the job done.
Does this mean I don't like it? No, I mean, if you liked Mega Man 4, there's not much reason you won't like this one either. It plays just like the previous entries, and the design of the stages holds up very well. Challenging, but fair, as it should be. But when it comes to Mega Man 5, we're not just talking about lack of innovation, which I can accept as long as the game stays as consistently fun as it was before. What we're talking here is a lack of soul, of identity. The big hook of the plot is completely underutilized and wasted on a predictable fakeout. And that's something you start paying attention more to when there's no new mechanics to distract you away from it. That is to say, 5 apes 4 way too much, and as a result, I wouldn't be surprised if people confused moments from this game as being from 4, like I did.
There are some unique moments though, such as the train level for Charge Man, or the mechanic of changing gravity in Gravity Man's level. So it's not totally devoid of uniqueness, it just may not be enough to offset the parts of the game that feel like a remixed 4. Overall, the game's not a bad time, but it ends up being just alright, and not much else but.
Does this mean I don't like it? No, I mean, if you liked Mega Man 4, there's not much reason you won't like this one either. It plays just like the previous entries, and the design of the stages holds up very well. Challenging, but fair, as it should be. But when it comes to Mega Man 5, we're not just talking about lack of innovation, which I can accept as long as the game stays as consistently fun as it was before. What we're talking here is a lack of soul, of identity. The big hook of the plot is completely underutilized and wasted on a predictable fakeout. And that's something you start paying attention more to when there's no new mechanics to distract you away from it. That is to say, 5 apes 4 way too much, and as a result, I wouldn't be surprised if people confused moments from this game as being from 4, like I did.
There are some unique moments though, such as the train level for Charge Man, or the mechanic of changing gravity in Gravity Man's level. So it's not totally devoid of uniqueness, it just may not be enough to offset the parts of the game that feel like a remixed 4. Overall, the game's not a bad time, but it ends up being just alright, and not much else but.
1986
When you're able to upgrade your ship and start blasting lasers, there's a very satisfying "power play" kind of feeling this game gives you. However, it's soul-crushing to get hit once and lose all your upgrades. It's quite punishing, which will be a love or hate it thing for some. I was only able to beat it using rewind, and for what it's worth, I had an enjoyable time doing so. For an early NES game, it's not all that bad.