antoinebeaumal
BACKER
1999
This is basically a "parenting fail" compilations
This game is a work of art, plain and simple. The atmosphere created is completely in symbiosis with the materials of its time. The vibrant and peculiar 3D of the PS1, its inability to render depth of field, the audio limitations that slow down the dialogues (it feels like being in a Rohmer film): remove one of these elements and the house of cards collapses. Remastering this title is impossible.
The game is TRULY frightening on many levels. To highlight just one element: the radio alarm. You always know there's an enemy nearby, but where? No jump scares: the game doesn't aim to scare us, but rather to terrorize us. I finished the game in 3 sessions and sometimes I was relieved to turn off the PlayStation because the atmosphere is so oppressive. My neck is still tense from this experience. Harry is never in a safe space; the player is always in danger.
The sound atmosphere and music, like any good horror film, are the scoliotic backbone of this hell. Between haunting drones and dark industrial sounds, the hearing is put to the test. Let it be known, I don't think I'll buy the vinyl to listen to it on a Sunday afternoon, unless I'm in need of an anxiety attack (aka never).
However, I must admit that I played it like a 'walking sim' by putting the game on 'easy' mode. The gameplay itself has aged relatively poorly, and the boss scenes are particularly bad. The interesting part lies in exploration and puzzle-solving. Its way of revealing the game's lore through objects and descriptions enhances immersion. I also have to admit that I am particularly a fan of the 'evolving' map system that prevents us from having to repeatedly open a locked door 15 times in a row. I look forward to playing the sequels
This game is a work of art, plain and simple. The atmosphere created is completely in symbiosis with the materials of its time. The vibrant and peculiar 3D of the PS1, its inability to render depth of field, the audio limitations that slow down the dialogues (it feels like being in a Rohmer film): remove one of these elements and the house of cards collapses. Remastering this title is impossible.
The game is TRULY frightening on many levels. To highlight just one element: the radio alarm. You always know there's an enemy nearby, but where? No jump scares: the game doesn't aim to scare us, but rather to terrorize us. I finished the game in 3 sessions and sometimes I was relieved to turn off the PlayStation because the atmosphere is so oppressive. My neck is still tense from this experience. Harry is never in a safe space; the player is always in danger.
The sound atmosphere and music, like any good horror film, are the scoliotic backbone of this hell. Between haunting drones and dark industrial sounds, the hearing is put to the test. Let it be known, I don't think I'll buy the vinyl to listen to it on a Sunday afternoon, unless I'm in need of an anxiety attack (aka never).
However, I must admit that I played it like a 'walking sim' by putting the game on 'easy' mode. The gameplay itself has aged relatively poorly, and the boss scenes are particularly bad. The interesting part lies in exploration and puzzle-solving. Its way of revealing the game's lore through objects and descriptions enhances immersion. I also have to admit that I am particularly a fan of the 'evolving' map system that prevents us from having to repeatedly open a locked door 15 times in a row. I look forward to playing the sequels
2012
« It's not about the destination, it's about the journey » blahblahblah. But can a 1-hour walking sim be qualified as a "journey"? What audacity.
It annoys me because I think I felt good into the game 15 minutes before the end. The scenery, the music, everything was there to please me, but here's the thing: it's too short. It leans more towards the arty side than the gamy one, and that's a shame.
It annoys me because I think I felt good into the game 15 minutes before the end. The scenery, the music, everything was there to please me, but here's the thing: it's too short. It leans more towards the arty side than the gamy one, and that's a shame.
Will a comment on BOTW made by a stranger on blacklogged almost 8 years after its release have an impact on the world? Obviously not. Yet, I think it is interesting to question our relationship with open-world games, of which BOTW is, for many, the standard-bearer.
To provide some context: I am playing BOTW for the first time, having spent a significant part of my life playing WOW, and for the past year, I have been trying to catch up on the major successes of recent years. I am also a player of "Souls" games and have spent several hundred hours on Elden Ring.
Why such a preamble? Because my relationship with "open-world" games is not neutral and is no longer the same in 2024; I am even exhausted by it. Spending hours pressing 'w' / up arrow and observing an "infinite" world exhausts me. I no longer have the energy to invest a hundred hours in a game collecting XXX items, doing MMO-like side quests that essentially involve going to a certain place, doing X things, and getting X rewards. The pseudo-freedom of the open world offered by developers annoys me: they place too much trust in players. However, and WOW taught me this, players are experts at ruining their gaming experience; we should not trust them.
The question now is: can BOTW be approached as a linear game, like a "classic" Zelda? Well, not really. If we consider the game not as a world to explore but as a mission to accomplish (kill Ganon) using the tools the game provides, then the game reveals a lot of weaknesses.
The game can quickly become artificially difficult, especially in the fight against Kohga in Vah’Naboris. Every mistake is instant death.
All resources (food, weapons, and shields) become a hindrance to progress. You end up having to farm them. The weapon-breaking system completely discouraged me from exploring; I wanted to save my resources as much as possible.
The open-world aspect makes almost everything "skippable": it is possible to finish the game by killing practically no enemies.
Once the power of Regali is obtained, exploration as such comes to an end in my opinion. It is possible to completely skip Hyrule Castle at the end of the game. What I expected to be a "mega-shrine +++" turned out to be a courtesy visit to Ganon.
Obviously, I am exaggerating a bit, and it is undeniable that the game is simply beautiful in many aspects, especially graphically and musically.
Gasp… I think I am getting old and expecting something else from video games than being 'infinite interactive toys.' Perhaps I am expecting games to be controlled by developers and not left to players. Unfortunately, I have the impression that Tears of the Kingdom continues in this direction by adding 'Minecraft'-like crafting.
FR :
Est-ce qu’un commentaire sur BOTW fait par un inconnu sur blacklogged presque 8 ans après sa sortie va-t-il avoir un impact sur le monde ? Évidemment que non. Pourtant, je pense qu’il est intéressant d’interroger notre rapport aux jeux open-world dont BOTW est, pour beaucoup, l’étendard d’un standard.
Pour donner quelques éléments de contextes : je joue pour la première fois à BOTW, j’ai passé une majeure partie de ma vie à jouer à WOW et cela fait maintenant 1 an que je tente de rattraper mon retard sur les grands succès de ces dernières années. Je suis aussi un joueur de « Souls » et j’ai passé plusieurs centaines d’heures sur Elden Ring.
Pourquoi un tel préambule ? Parce mon rapport aux jeux « open-world » n’est pas neutre et n’est plus le même en 2024 : j’en suis même épuisé. Passer des heures à presser « w » / flèche directionnel en haut et observer un monde « infini » m’épuise. Je n’ai plus la force d’investir une centaine d’heure dans un jeu à collecter XXX items, faire des sides-quests « à la MMO » qui consistent essentiellement à aller à tel endroit faire X choses et obtenir X récompenses. La pseudo liberté de l’open world que me propose les développeurs m’exaspèrent : ils placent trop de confiance dans les joueurs. Hors, et WOW me l’a appris, les joueurs sont les experts pour ruiner leur expérience de jeu, on ne doit pas leur faire confiance.
La question maintenant est : est-ce que BOTW peut-il être abordé comme un jeu linéaire, comme un zelda « classique » ? Et bien, pas vraiment. Si on considère le jeu non pas comme un monde à explorer, mais une mission à accomplir (tuer Ganon) en utilisant les outils que le jeu nous propose, alors le jeu révèle un grand nombre de faiblesses.
1. Le jeu peut rapidement devenir artificiellement difficile, notamment sur la fight contre Kohga dans Vah’Naboris. Chaque erreur est une mort instantanée.
2. Toutes les ressources (nourriture, arme et bouclier) deviennent un frein à la progression. On se retrouve obliger d’aller les farm. Ce système d’armes qui se détruit m’a totalement découragé à aller explorer, je voulais ainsi économiser le plus possible mes ressources.
3. L’aspect open-world rend à peu près tout « skippable » : il est possible de finir le jeu en ne tuant pratiquement aucun ennemi.
4. Une fois le pouvoir de Regali obtenu, l’exploration en tant que telle prend fin à mon sens. Il est possible de totalement passer le château d’Hyrule à la fin du jeu. La où je m’attendais à un « mega-shrine +++ » s’est révélé être une visite de courtoisie à Ganon.
Évidemment, je force un peu le trait, et il est indéniable que le jeu est tout simplement magnifique sur beaucoup d’aspects, notamment graphiquement et musicalement.
Gasp… Je pense que je deviens vieux et que j’attends autre chose des jeux vidéo que d’être des « jouets interactifs infinis ». J’attends peut-être que les jeux soient contrôlés par les développeurs et non pas laissés aux joueurs.
J’ai malheureusement l’impression que Tears of the Kingdom continue dans cette voie en y ajoutant des craft « à la Minecraft ».
To provide some context: I am playing BOTW for the first time, having spent a significant part of my life playing WOW, and for the past year, I have been trying to catch up on the major successes of recent years. I am also a player of "Souls" games and have spent several hundred hours on Elden Ring.
Why such a preamble? Because my relationship with "open-world" games is not neutral and is no longer the same in 2024; I am even exhausted by it. Spending hours pressing 'w' / up arrow and observing an "infinite" world exhausts me. I no longer have the energy to invest a hundred hours in a game collecting XXX items, doing MMO-like side quests that essentially involve going to a certain place, doing X things, and getting X rewards. The pseudo-freedom of the open world offered by developers annoys me: they place too much trust in players. However, and WOW taught me this, players are experts at ruining their gaming experience; we should not trust them.
The question now is: can BOTW be approached as a linear game, like a "classic" Zelda? Well, not really. If we consider the game not as a world to explore but as a mission to accomplish (kill Ganon) using the tools the game provides, then the game reveals a lot of weaknesses.
The game can quickly become artificially difficult, especially in the fight against Kohga in Vah’Naboris. Every mistake is instant death.
All resources (food, weapons, and shields) become a hindrance to progress. You end up having to farm them. The weapon-breaking system completely discouraged me from exploring; I wanted to save my resources as much as possible.
The open-world aspect makes almost everything "skippable": it is possible to finish the game by killing practically no enemies.
Once the power of Regali is obtained, exploration as such comes to an end in my opinion. It is possible to completely skip Hyrule Castle at the end of the game. What I expected to be a "mega-shrine +++" turned out to be a courtesy visit to Ganon.
Obviously, I am exaggerating a bit, and it is undeniable that the game is simply beautiful in many aspects, especially graphically and musically.
Gasp… I think I am getting old and expecting something else from video games than being 'infinite interactive toys.' Perhaps I am expecting games to be controlled by developers and not left to players. Unfortunately, I have the impression that Tears of the Kingdom continues in this direction by adding 'Minecraft'-like crafting.
FR :
Est-ce qu’un commentaire sur BOTW fait par un inconnu sur blacklogged presque 8 ans après sa sortie va-t-il avoir un impact sur le monde ? Évidemment que non. Pourtant, je pense qu’il est intéressant d’interroger notre rapport aux jeux open-world dont BOTW est, pour beaucoup, l’étendard d’un standard.
Pour donner quelques éléments de contextes : je joue pour la première fois à BOTW, j’ai passé une majeure partie de ma vie à jouer à WOW et cela fait maintenant 1 an que je tente de rattraper mon retard sur les grands succès de ces dernières années. Je suis aussi un joueur de « Souls » et j’ai passé plusieurs centaines d’heures sur Elden Ring.
Pourquoi un tel préambule ? Parce mon rapport aux jeux « open-world » n’est pas neutre et n’est plus le même en 2024 : j’en suis même épuisé. Passer des heures à presser « w » / flèche directionnel en haut et observer un monde « infini » m’épuise. Je n’ai plus la force d’investir une centaine d’heure dans un jeu à collecter XXX items, faire des sides-quests « à la MMO » qui consistent essentiellement à aller à tel endroit faire X choses et obtenir X récompenses. La pseudo liberté de l’open world que me propose les développeurs m’exaspèrent : ils placent trop de confiance dans les joueurs. Hors, et WOW me l’a appris, les joueurs sont les experts pour ruiner leur expérience de jeu, on ne doit pas leur faire confiance.
La question maintenant est : est-ce que BOTW peut-il être abordé comme un jeu linéaire, comme un zelda « classique » ? Et bien, pas vraiment. Si on considère le jeu non pas comme un monde à explorer, mais une mission à accomplir (tuer Ganon) en utilisant les outils que le jeu nous propose, alors le jeu révèle un grand nombre de faiblesses.
1. Le jeu peut rapidement devenir artificiellement difficile, notamment sur la fight contre Kohga dans Vah’Naboris. Chaque erreur est une mort instantanée.
2. Toutes les ressources (nourriture, arme et bouclier) deviennent un frein à la progression. On se retrouve obliger d’aller les farm. Ce système d’armes qui se détruit m’a totalement découragé à aller explorer, je voulais ainsi économiser le plus possible mes ressources.
3. L’aspect open-world rend à peu près tout « skippable » : il est possible de finir le jeu en ne tuant pratiquement aucun ennemi.
4. Une fois le pouvoir de Regali obtenu, l’exploration en tant que telle prend fin à mon sens. Il est possible de totalement passer le château d’Hyrule à la fin du jeu. La où je m’attendais à un « mega-shrine +++ » s’est révélé être une visite de courtoisie à Ganon.
Évidemment, je force un peu le trait, et il est indéniable que le jeu est tout simplement magnifique sur beaucoup d’aspects, notamment graphiquement et musicalement.
Gasp… Je pense que je deviens vieux et que j’attends autre chose des jeux vidéo que d’être des « jouets interactifs infinis ». J’attends peut-être que les jeux soient contrôlés par les développeurs et non pas laissés aux joueurs.
J’ai malheureusement l’impression que Tears of the Kingdom continue dans cette voie en y ajoutant des craft « à la Minecraft ».
1985
I played this game a lot as a child. I had access to it because it was on Super Mario Advance on the GBA. I found it particularly short, and I remember often challenging myself to finish it as quickly as possible. A good way to kill time on a long car journey.
I also remember that levels 4-1 and 6-1 (the one where a character on a cloud sent us spiked shells) were particularly fun and almost required us to speedrun.
Playing the game again, I found it to be a little "empty", and not really making the best use of the challenges it provides. The difficulty is poorly managed over the long term: it's either too simple or just irritating (hello hammer-throwing turtles, your patern is harder to read than Elden Ring's Malenia). The 7-4 and 8-4 puzzle-solving aspect is also annoying.
Although the graphics are very "early nes", I think Nintendo has done a particularly good job with its choice of colors: they're all warm and well-matched, and a real treat for the eyes.
In short, mythical but skipable.
I also remember that levels 4-1 and 6-1 (the one where a character on a cloud sent us spiked shells) were particularly fun and almost required us to speedrun.
Playing the game again, I found it to be a little "empty", and not really making the best use of the challenges it provides. The difficulty is poorly managed over the long term: it's either too simple or just irritating (hello hammer-throwing turtles, your patern is harder to read than Elden Ring's Malenia). The 7-4 and 8-4 puzzle-solving aspect is also annoying.
Although the graphics are very "early nes", I think Nintendo has done a particularly good job with its choice of colors: they're all warm and well-matched, and a real treat for the eyes.
In short, mythical but skipable.
1991
Attention, this is more of a meta-commentary on the importance of positive and passionate criticism than a review.
This is the 4th time I've completed Castlevania IV, a game I discovered in 2011 thanks to the Angry Video Game Nerd's video. Even though criticism from him is now almost non-existent (it seems he only reads from a script and no longer writes his own texts), James was really important to me between 2007 and 2012 (roughly). Each video was a small event and the discovery of a terrible game. Yet in 2011, he made an exception to the rule and spoke passionately about a franchise he loved. Instead of bashing a game, he talked passionately about a game he particularly adored. I liked his style of criticism: a mix of his personal history with the game and a more objective analysis.
In 2024, I have mixed feelings about AVGN (and even being "a fan"), but I still appreciate his series on Castlevania because it tells the story of a gamer's passion rather than capitalizing on "hate content." In my opinion, talking about the content of something you really love is much harder than harsh criticism. I think this creator unfortunately surrounded himself with the wrong people who took advantage of his success. Watching an AVGN video now is painful: it feels like watching a caricature of a caricature.
Anyway, I immediately tried playing Castlevania IV, first on an emulator, then by buying a physical version. I really became a fan of this game, especially because of its sublime dark fantasy graphical style and its absolutely incredible music (there's even a very improbable jazz solo). Generally speaking, it's the unique atmosphere created that stands out, even though the game relies on well-known themes (the castle, bats, mummies, Dracula, etc.). The boss fights are memorable and the difficulty is very well balanced (though it's not exactly easy). So okay, the controls are a bit stiff and there's no save system, but that really doesn't matter to me. It's also one of the last classic platformer Castlevania games. I can only recommend it.
This is the 4th time I've completed Castlevania IV, a game I discovered in 2011 thanks to the Angry Video Game Nerd's video. Even though criticism from him is now almost non-existent (it seems he only reads from a script and no longer writes his own texts), James was really important to me between 2007 and 2012 (roughly). Each video was a small event and the discovery of a terrible game. Yet in 2011, he made an exception to the rule and spoke passionately about a franchise he loved. Instead of bashing a game, he talked passionately about a game he particularly adored. I liked his style of criticism: a mix of his personal history with the game and a more objective analysis.
In 2024, I have mixed feelings about AVGN (and even being "a fan"), but I still appreciate his series on Castlevania because it tells the story of a gamer's passion rather than capitalizing on "hate content." In my opinion, talking about the content of something you really love is much harder than harsh criticism. I think this creator unfortunately surrounded himself with the wrong people who took advantage of his success. Watching an AVGN video now is painful: it feels like watching a caricature of a caricature.
Anyway, I immediately tried playing Castlevania IV, first on an emulator, then by buying a physical version. I really became a fan of this game, especially because of its sublime dark fantasy graphical style and its absolutely incredible music (there's even a very improbable jazz solo). Generally speaking, it's the unique atmosphere created that stands out, even though the game relies on well-known themes (the castle, bats, mummies, Dracula, etc.). The boss fights are memorable and the difficulty is very well balanced (though it's not exactly easy). So okay, the controls are a bit stiff and there's no save system, but that really doesn't matter to me. It's also one of the last classic platformer Castlevania games. I can only recommend it.
1990
When I was a child, there was a supermarket where you could find one of those SNES stands (exactly like this one https://imgur.com/a/IhkmWSh) that only played Super Mario World. Too shy, I never dared to play because there was always a crowd gathering around. Taking the shiny controller (it was shiny because it was greasy from the sebum of dozens of children) meant being watched by an impatient crowd. I didn't want to embarrass myself.
It's a strange coincidence that I never played SMW before that day. And what a mistake! The level design, the graphics, the music: everything is incredible and still interesting today. Maybe Mario 3 on NES (another untouched classic) had already introduced this, but I find it interesting to add 'dead ends' to some levels. This breaks the linearity of the game, which can be too easily criticized in 2D games.
I don't have much to add to the thousands of existing reviews except to insist that the game's inventiveness seems to crescendo: the further you progress, the more interesting it becomes. No dull moments: even the 'aquatic' moments and the 'oh, now the platforms are slippery' moments that seem to be obligatory passages in platformers are interesting and engaging here. Even if it's a criticism that can be made of most Mario games: the boss fights are sometimes too short, I would have loved bosses like the final showdown with Bowser, which is particularly epic.
Definitely a game I will replay in the future, and perhaps with a more 'completionist' approach. Finishing the game with only 50% progress has two effects on me: discouragement or encouragement. SMW falls into the latter category.
It's a strange coincidence that I never played SMW before that day. And what a mistake! The level design, the graphics, the music: everything is incredible and still interesting today. Maybe Mario 3 on NES (another untouched classic) had already introduced this, but I find it interesting to add 'dead ends' to some levels. This breaks the linearity of the game, which can be too easily criticized in 2D games.
I don't have much to add to the thousands of existing reviews except to insist that the game's inventiveness seems to crescendo: the further you progress, the more interesting it becomes. No dull moments: even the 'aquatic' moments and the 'oh, now the platforms are slippery' moments that seem to be obligatory passages in platformers are interesting and engaging here. Even if it's a criticism that can be made of most Mario games: the boss fights are sometimes too short, I would have loved bosses like the final showdown with Bowser, which is particularly epic.
Definitely a game I will replay in the future, and perhaps with a more 'completionist' approach. Finishing the game with only 50% progress has two effects on me: discouragement or encouragement. SMW falls into the latter category.
2014
Successor (or not) to Cave Story, Kero Blaster goes against what one might expect from a sequel: the storytelling simplifies, transitioning from a semi-open metroidvania format to a linear game, and the lifespan is half as short. Yet, this shift isn't truly a subtraction but a refinement. Kero Blaster is much more enjoyable to play than Cave Story: the physics, the gameplay, the progression, the enemies, the weapons, etc... all come together in an organic and thoughtful manner. Instead of indulging in the grandiosity of levels and storytelling, it seems Daisuke Amaya worked on his game like a miniature.
Many somewhat pompous terms from me for a game that's essentially fun from start to finish. I'm really a fan of the difficulty progression: if you're stuck in a tough passage, you keep accumulating gold coins which grant access to extra lives and other upgrades. Even in defeat, you make progress.
A great "small" game to absolutely experience.
Many somewhat pompous terms from me for a game that's essentially fun from start to finish. I'm really a fan of the difficulty progression: if you're stuck in a tough passage, you keep accumulating gold coins which grant access to extra lives and other upgrades. Even in defeat, you make progress.
A great "small" game to absolutely experience.
I've decided that from now on, I'm going to hook the reader with a clickbait title. Here's my title:
if you enjoyed Celeste, you might loveTrackmania Nations Forever.
Disclaimers: I'm not a fan of cars in real life. 2. I'm not a fan (at first glance) of simulation games. Luckily, Trackmania Nations Forever isn't a game for car enthusiasts or simulation fans. I'd go even further: it's not really a traditional racing game. You don't navigate the 65 tracks to beat opponents but to beat a time. The whole appeal of the game lies in this singular goal: a certain idea of perfectionism.
Everything surrounding this goal is far from perfect: TMNF's graphics are generally quite generic despite some nice lighting effects. The music is a kind of dull lounge house. There's no damage physics, all cars have the same characteristics. All tracks seem to have been made with the same level editor.
What makes TMNF a great game is the driving mechanics. The simplistic controls (accelerate, turn left, right, and sometimes brake) demand great precision. It's all about perfect timing. Revelation for me: I realize that racing games are mostly 3D games but with 2D game controls. Like a platformer, inputs could be articulated on a simple X-axis (left and right) and Y-axis (accelerate, brake). I'd struggle to say why this particular game has such exceptional control, but it's a feeling I've never had in any racing game before. It's both immediately easy to grasp but exponentially difficult to master.
You do need a certain mindset to get into this game: having the 'grind' culture. Being a bit obstinate to restart the same course dozens or even hundreds of times to get the medal you want (for me, I stopped at the gold medal). A bit like Celeste, we work on micro-segments (the average duration of a race is about 45 sec.) that we must master. Another totally unique element of this game is the ability to 'brake in the air' and decide on your trajectory (like a 2D platformer). It's physically totally improbable but very interesting in terms of gameplay.
There's obviously a highly competitive aspect and a ranking system on two scales: a local one (a bronze to Nadeo medal system (higher than Gold)) and a quite laughable global leaderboard system. It's always fun to be proud of one of these courses before realizing that you're just entering the top 100,000 worldwide. The somewhat comical patriotic or regional aspect, I'm quite proud to be in the top 100 of a part of Switzerland (which is not already a big country).
Anyway, play it, it's free
if you enjoyed Celeste, you might loveTrackmania Nations Forever.
Disclaimers: I'm not a fan of cars in real life. 2. I'm not a fan (at first glance) of simulation games. Luckily, Trackmania Nations Forever isn't a game for car enthusiasts or simulation fans. I'd go even further: it's not really a traditional racing game. You don't navigate the 65 tracks to beat opponents but to beat a time. The whole appeal of the game lies in this singular goal: a certain idea of perfectionism.
Everything surrounding this goal is far from perfect: TMNF's graphics are generally quite generic despite some nice lighting effects. The music is a kind of dull lounge house. There's no damage physics, all cars have the same characteristics. All tracks seem to have been made with the same level editor.
What makes TMNF a great game is the driving mechanics. The simplistic controls (accelerate, turn left, right, and sometimes brake) demand great precision. It's all about perfect timing. Revelation for me: I realize that racing games are mostly 3D games but with 2D game controls. Like a platformer, inputs could be articulated on a simple X-axis (left and right) and Y-axis (accelerate, brake). I'd struggle to say why this particular game has such exceptional control, but it's a feeling I've never had in any racing game before. It's both immediately easy to grasp but exponentially difficult to master.
You do need a certain mindset to get into this game: having the 'grind' culture. Being a bit obstinate to restart the same course dozens or even hundreds of times to get the medal you want (for me, I stopped at the gold medal). A bit like Celeste, we work on micro-segments (the average duration of a race is about 45 sec.) that we must master. Another totally unique element of this game is the ability to 'brake in the air' and decide on your trajectory (like a 2D platformer). It's physically totally improbable but very interesting in terms of gameplay.
There's obviously a highly competitive aspect and a ranking system on two scales: a local one (a bronze to Nadeo medal system (higher than Gold)) and a quite laughable global leaderboard system. It's always fun to be proud of one of these courses before realizing that you're just entering the top 100,000 worldwide. The somewhat comical patriotic or regional aspect, I'm quite proud to be in the top 100 of a part of Switzerland (which is not already a big country).
Anyway, play it, it's free
2013
There is a German word that has always intrigued me: "Waldeinsamkeit," which roughly translates to "the feeling of solitude experienced in a forest." Even though Year Walk is Swedish and not German, I think this concept suits it perfectly. Unfortunately, being more of a mountain person at heart, I struggled to appreciate getting lost in this charming setting. The iPad version (to my knowledge?) lacks a map system, making the game more cumbersome.
Beyond that, the game falls into that precious category for me, which is "folkloric horror," alongside Mundaun, another game dear to my heart. The puzzles here are really well-crafted and balanced, although I found the final part slightly less interesting. It's worth noting that the game has a "good/bad ending" system that I find a bit ridiculous (was it really necessary, honestly?).
Lots of charm but underexploited.
Beyond that, the game falls into that precious category for me, which is "folkloric horror," alongside Mundaun, another game dear to my heart. The puzzles here are really well-crafted and balanced, although I found the final part slightly less interesting. It's worth noting that the game has a "good/bad ending" system that I find a bit ridiculous (was it really necessary, honestly?).
Lots of charm but underexploited.
1992
Unless you're an aliasing fetishist or enjoy being humiliated by a blatantly unfair AI, there's no point in revisiting this first Mario Kart. Even though I have fond memories of it from my childhood, I must admit it hasn't aged well.
The game's difficulty is incredibly poorly balanced. The 50 and 100cc races are nearly impossible to lose because they're so simple. However, once you reach the special cup and the 150cc category, the game turns into SM domination and promptly punishes you for even the slightest micro-error. Honestly, 100% this game is truly one of the most punishing challenges I've ever subjected myself to :(
The game's difficulty is incredibly poorly balanced. The 50 and 100cc races are nearly impossible to lose because they're so simple. However, once you reach the special cup and the 150cc category, the game turns into SM domination and promptly punishes you for even the slightest micro-error. Honestly, 100% this game is truly one of the most punishing challenges I've ever subjected myself to :(
I have a lot of bias towards this game: I love it and I hate it. By the early 2000s, it was already established that the Zeldas were masterpieces, notably thanks to Ocarina of Time and Majora’s Mask. Not having a Nintendo 64, I didn’t have the chance to play them on their release day. The only Zelda I had played was Link’s Awakening on GameBoy Color in 1998, which I particularly loved. In 1999, I managed to find a copy of Link to the Past at a garage sale for a relatively high price (I believe it was 40€). Unfortunately, the game was in German, but I still tried to play it. I never managed to find the third medallion and remained stuck for a long time, excessively frustrated because I loved everything about the game. But the language barrier made the experience difficult. It was also impossible for me to use the manual (I only bought the cartridge), and I couldn't get my hands on a guide (this was in 1999, I remind you, I didn't have internet at home yet, and printed guides were unavailable at that time).
I think we forget that this kind of game can be particularly opaque and cryptic, even though LTTP is more accessible than the first installment of the saga. The impatient player then has two options to bypass the secrets of this game: the complete guide (and spoil the experience) or the hint for a boost. In this sense, the integration of the NPC who guides you for 30 rupees is a stroke of genius that I would have loved to discover as a child instead of raging on my own, cutting all the bushes in the game (I could have also learned German, what a noob)... Are there still players who will have a similar experience to mine nowadays? I posit here as a hypothesis that the lost player who does not have access to any form of "guidance" has practically disappeared.
Many critics rightly emphasized that LTTP has an absolutely gigantic semi-open world with the particular twist of the change thanks to the mirror. This part is especially remembered because it foreshadows the games to come. But when you really play this game, you forget that LTTP has a half of games close to the dungeon crawling genre, a genre immensely more popular at that time. Japan in particular was marked by the legacy of Wizardry. It's really fascinating to imagine that LTTP (and perhaps a major part of the Zelda series? I'm not an expert, so I'll remain cautious) was at the crossroads between open-world adventure and dungeon crawling. It raises the theoretical question: if the critics hadn't praised the open world of Zelda so much, would the series have become a series of dungeon games? In a parallel Bizarro world, would BOTW have looked like a Lunacid-type game and would Lunacid have been a game that pays homage to the open world? I'm totally digressing.
The game is truly a revolutionary masterpiece. The evolution between LTTP and The Legend of Zelda released 6 years earlier is staggering, even from a technical point of view. Although we live in completely different eras where graphics evolved extremely rapidly, it's amusing to think about this in perspective of a comparison between BOTW and TOTK, which also have almost 6 years apart and are, for all intents and purposes, identical.
Yet despite all the "objective" and qualitative data of this game, well ... I got a little bored in the middle of the game. The alternation between open-world and dungeons becomes a bit repetitive, but fortunately the end is amazing (since the ice dungeon, I would say).
A little annoyance on my part: trying to use online guides only as a last resort (for example, if I'm stuck for more than an hour), I managed relatively well until I got to Trinexx. Impossible for me to figure out how to defeat him on my own. Searching online, I discover that I need the "ice wand." I go to get it and I realize that I can never kill the dragon heads, even with 3 magic bars. I finally realize that my sword is only level 2. I realize that I completely missed the upgrades. Overall, it annoyed me because none of these items are necessary before. This kind of "dead end" is really annoying and discouraging. Without recourse to a guide, I would probably have given up at this point.
Another important point, in terms of narration, LTTP is in line with its predecessors: few dialogues, few memorable secondary characters. The game is more focused on its gameplay and level design while remaining relatively quiet. You either like it or you don't. Even though I struggle with games that are too talkative, I think I might have liked to be more involved in the world of Hyrule. LTTP remains very "gamey": I finished dungeon 5, let's go to dungeon 6. We generally don't care about the story, which is not a bad thing in itself. Add to that the fact that the game is generally very serious. It seems to me that the subsequent games often have more "dorky" moments.
Anyway, I'm glad to have turned this frustrating page of my existence.
I think we forget that this kind of game can be particularly opaque and cryptic, even though LTTP is more accessible than the first installment of the saga. The impatient player then has two options to bypass the secrets of this game: the complete guide (and spoil the experience) or the hint for a boost. In this sense, the integration of the NPC who guides you for 30 rupees is a stroke of genius that I would have loved to discover as a child instead of raging on my own, cutting all the bushes in the game (I could have also learned German, what a noob)... Are there still players who will have a similar experience to mine nowadays? I posit here as a hypothesis that the lost player who does not have access to any form of "guidance" has practically disappeared.
Many critics rightly emphasized that LTTP has an absolutely gigantic semi-open world with the particular twist of the change thanks to the mirror. This part is especially remembered because it foreshadows the games to come. But when you really play this game, you forget that LTTP has a half of games close to the dungeon crawling genre, a genre immensely more popular at that time. Japan in particular was marked by the legacy of Wizardry. It's really fascinating to imagine that LTTP (and perhaps a major part of the Zelda series? I'm not an expert, so I'll remain cautious) was at the crossroads between open-world adventure and dungeon crawling. It raises the theoretical question: if the critics hadn't praised the open world of Zelda so much, would the series have become a series of dungeon games? In a parallel Bizarro world, would BOTW have looked like a Lunacid-type game and would Lunacid have been a game that pays homage to the open world? I'm totally digressing.
The game is truly a revolutionary masterpiece. The evolution between LTTP and The Legend of Zelda released 6 years earlier is staggering, even from a technical point of view. Although we live in completely different eras where graphics evolved extremely rapidly, it's amusing to think about this in perspective of a comparison between BOTW and TOTK, which also have almost 6 years apart and are, for all intents and purposes, identical.
Yet despite all the "objective" and qualitative data of this game, well ... I got a little bored in the middle of the game. The alternation between open-world and dungeons becomes a bit repetitive, but fortunately the end is amazing (since the ice dungeon, I would say).
A little annoyance on my part: trying to use online guides only as a last resort (for example, if I'm stuck for more than an hour), I managed relatively well until I got to Trinexx. Impossible for me to figure out how to defeat him on my own. Searching online, I discover that I need the "ice wand." I go to get it and I realize that I can never kill the dragon heads, even with 3 magic bars. I finally realize that my sword is only level 2. I realize that I completely missed the upgrades. Overall, it annoyed me because none of these items are necessary before. This kind of "dead end" is really annoying and discouraging. Without recourse to a guide, I would probably have given up at this point.
Another important point, in terms of narration, LTTP is in line with its predecessors: few dialogues, few memorable secondary characters. The game is more focused on its gameplay and level design while remaining relatively quiet. You either like it or you don't. Even though I struggle with games that are too talkative, I think I might have liked to be more involved in the world of Hyrule. LTTP remains very "gamey": I finished dungeon 5, let's go to dungeon 6. We generally don't care about the story, which is not a bad thing in itself. Add to that the fact that the game is generally very serious. It seems to me that the subsequent games often have more "dorky" moments.
Anyway, I'm glad to have turned this frustrating page of my existence.
This game made me want to spend my mid-November vacation in Scotland. It's a clear proof that video games can have a negative influence.
The game is beautiful, especially the light effects, which are very well done. However, it's still a bit lacking in creating a real emotional connection. I also find that the writing is intentionally vague (which in itself is not a bad thing), but it's still frustrating.
The game is beautiful, especially the light effects, which are very well done. However, it's still a bit lacking in creating a real emotional connection. I also find that the writing is intentionally vague (which in itself is not a bad thing), but it's still frustrating.
2002
I believe I have rarely been so frustrated and annoyed by a game. Initial struggles with this inverted x-axis camera that cannot be changed. Just imagine for 30 seconds what this implies: my entire internal logic is disrupted. The same grievance I felt with Mario 64: the fact that the camera is sometimes controlled by the player and sometimes by the AI makes the game exasperating, especially in a platformer that requires precision. Either have a fixed camera or give complete control to the player. This hybrid and bastardized system is truly frustrating.
Honestly, when I play Super Mario Sunshine, I question my legitimacy as a gamer. How is it that I am so bad at this game? Is it because I didn't grow up with these 3D games (I have more experience with 2D platformers, FPS, RTS, etc.)? I am unable to get past the halfway point of the game, and the "hidden stages" made me rage in a somewhat ridiculous manner. I think I'll abandon this game for a while and reflect on the meaning of life. Why do I persist to this extent? Super Mario Sunshine has put me in this strange trance. Perhaps it's due to this "Caribbean midi vibes" music. This very relaxing atmosphere is completely at odds with the difficulty of some missions. Like a feverish nap on a beach after a pina colada loaded with rum, this game makes me nauseous.
The "secret stages," in my opinion, are the most challenging but also the most interesting levels. A clear proof that the Mario experience is primarily an abstract experience of shapes and sounds, not an immersion in a pseudo-tangible world like Isle Delfino.
In short, I did not enjoy it, I am unable to finish it, and perhaps I will finish it one day (but I doubt it).
Honestly, when I play Super Mario Sunshine, I question my legitimacy as a gamer. How is it that I am so bad at this game? Is it because I didn't grow up with these 3D games (I have more experience with 2D platformers, FPS, RTS, etc.)? I am unable to get past the halfway point of the game, and the "hidden stages" made me rage in a somewhat ridiculous manner. I think I'll abandon this game for a while and reflect on the meaning of life. Why do I persist to this extent? Super Mario Sunshine has put me in this strange trance. Perhaps it's due to this "Caribbean midi vibes" music. This very relaxing atmosphere is completely at odds with the difficulty of some missions. Like a feverish nap on a beach after a pina colada loaded with rum, this game makes me nauseous.
The "secret stages," in my opinion, are the most challenging but also the most interesting levels. A clear proof that the Mario experience is primarily an abstract experience of shapes and sounds, not an immersion in a pseudo-tangible world like Isle Delfino.
In short, I did not enjoy it, I am unable to finish it, and perhaps I will finish it one day (but I doubt it).
1998
I remember playing this game in the year 2000 (I still have my copy, bought second-hand for 30 CHF) and finishing it with a certain pride (I was 13 at the time), but I found the game a bit short (I checked with the memory card from that time: 13 hours and 30 minutes of gameplay, not something to brag about either). I remember thinking of this game as 'kind of like GoldenEye64, but not as good, but cool story because the dialogues are spoken.' This perspective makes me laugh now because if there's a game that hasn't aged well, it's GoldenEye64, and if there's one that remains interesting today, it's Metal Gear Solid.
The game impresses me with its megalomaniacal desire to shine in every aspect: the cinematics, the soundtrack, the dialogues, the play with the materiality of the PlayStation (the famous 'psycho-mantis' moment), and the boss fights. Let's be clear, if MSG were a movie, it would be a fabulous B-movie close to a soap opera, given how frequent the twists and turns are. The ultra-serious and earnest tone of the dialogues sometimes border on the ridiculous, but that's the charm of this game. Obviously, it's clearly misogynistic, and 'Solid Snake' (not at all a phallic name...) is clearly in heat every time he talks to a female character.
A beautifully fraudulent aspect of the game is its subtitle: Tactical espionage action. Indeed, the espionage part of the game is very, very short. MSG1 is more of a narrative boss rush. Despite its lofty ambitions, the game consists of only a handful of areas, and 'run backs' are frequent. But, in the end, who cares? The boss fights and the dialogues are what make the game interesting.
I note that for a PS1 game, the graphics are impressive, as it tries to make the most of the available hardware. PS1 games have an unparalleled 3D style with a charm of their own that I always found superior to the N64 of that time.
The game impresses me with its megalomaniacal desire to shine in every aspect: the cinematics, the soundtrack, the dialogues, the play with the materiality of the PlayStation (the famous 'psycho-mantis' moment), and the boss fights. Let's be clear, if MSG were a movie, it would be a fabulous B-movie close to a soap opera, given how frequent the twists and turns are. The ultra-serious and earnest tone of the dialogues sometimes border on the ridiculous, but that's the charm of this game. Obviously, it's clearly misogynistic, and 'Solid Snake' (not at all a phallic name...) is clearly in heat every time he talks to a female character.
A beautifully fraudulent aspect of the game is its subtitle: Tactical espionage action. Indeed, the espionage part of the game is very, very short. MSG1 is more of a narrative boss rush. Despite its lofty ambitions, the game consists of only a handful of areas, and 'run backs' are frequent. But, in the end, who cares? The boss fights and the dialogues are what make the game interesting.
I note that for a PS1 game, the graphics are impressive, as it tries to make the most of the available hardware. PS1 games have an unparalleled 3D style with a charm of their own that I always found superior to the N64 of that time.
1986
2024 nonsense: I played it on switch with nintendo live and the game lags when there are more than 6 npc on the screen...
With a view to playing all the Zelda games, I unsurprisingly decided to start with the first one. Obviously, the game bears the marks of time, but I found it an exciting step back in time. Much of the Zelda grammar is already present: the heart system, progressive weapon and skill unlocks, shrines, etc...
This game also proves that an adventure needs (almost) no dialogue or cutscenes. It's possible to have an immersive experience through exploration and gameplay alone. It's also possible to guide the player through evasive NPCs without taking them by the hand.
Another interesting element that seems to differ in subsequent Zelda games is that the game is almost a survivalist game, given the hostility of the Hyrule universe. If I'm not mistaken, apart from the first panel and the "heart-restoring fairy", all the panels are death traps. Stand still and Link dies.
The game is also brutally difficult, requiring the player to use the full panoply of items to good effect. Two elements are particularly annoying in my opinion: 1) no "invisible frame" after being hit 2) after dying, no matter how many hearts you have, you go back to 3 hearts. The penalty for the last point seems very heavy to me, and it's not unusual for me to have to leave the sanctuary to go and fill up my pv at the fairy. This sometimes creates pacing problems, but also emphasizes that every damage counts and should be avoided. I really recommend doing all the upgrades you can before going to see Ganon.
I also find that the interface borders on a form of perfect minimalism. Everything is clear, immediate and useful. Right from the start, you can sense Zelda's intentions: to bring the RPG genre to a wider audience by simplifying some of its aspects (complicated UI, lots of text and sometimes very tactical combat) while retaining the desire to explore a wide world, to discover secrets on two levels: a rich open world and enigmatic dungeons. It's also a vision of the RPG that places the player as a constantly active actor (sorry for the redundancy): there are almost no pauses, almost no dialogue, no turn-based combat. In short, a clear break with the paper role-playing game. The granddaddy of console RPGs? shit, this game's almost 40 years old...
With a view to playing all the Zelda games, I unsurprisingly decided to start with the first one. Obviously, the game bears the marks of time, but I found it an exciting step back in time. Much of the Zelda grammar is already present: the heart system, progressive weapon and skill unlocks, shrines, etc...
This game also proves that an adventure needs (almost) no dialogue or cutscenes. It's possible to have an immersive experience through exploration and gameplay alone. It's also possible to guide the player through evasive NPCs without taking them by the hand.
Another interesting element that seems to differ in subsequent Zelda games is that the game is almost a survivalist game, given the hostility of the Hyrule universe. If I'm not mistaken, apart from the first panel and the "heart-restoring fairy", all the panels are death traps. Stand still and Link dies.
The game is also brutally difficult, requiring the player to use the full panoply of items to good effect. Two elements are particularly annoying in my opinion: 1) no "invisible frame" after being hit 2) after dying, no matter how many hearts you have, you go back to 3 hearts. The penalty for the last point seems very heavy to me, and it's not unusual for me to have to leave the sanctuary to go and fill up my pv at the fairy. This sometimes creates pacing problems, but also emphasizes that every damage counts and should be avoided. I really recommend doing all the upgrades you can before going to see Ganon.
I also find that the interface borders on a form of perfect minimalism. Everything is clear, immediate and useful. Right from the start, you can sense Zelda's intentions: to bring the RPG genre to a wider audience by simplifying some of its aspects (complicated UI, lots of text and sometimes very tactical combat) while retaining the desire to explore a wide world, to discover secrets on two levels: a rich open world and enigmatic dungeons. It's also a vision of the RPG that places the player as a constantly active actor (sorry for the redundancy): there are almost no pauses, almost no dialogue, no turn-based combat. In short, a clear break with the paper role-playing game. The granddaddy of console RPGs? shit, this game's almost 40 years old...