willn46
2007
Super Mario Galaxy is the game that made me love video games.
It wasn’t the first game I played, or even the first Mario game (that honor goes to Mario Kart Wii), but it was the first to make me see games as an art form. It’s been over 15 years since I first sat down to play it at the tender age of 4 years old, but that first play session is burned into my brain. The transition from a quiet, somber storybook into a joyous festival instantly invokes a sense of childlike wonder and turns the remotely interested into the completely invested. Then, Bowser’s attack on the Star Festival and Mario’s defeat lets veteran Mario players know this adventure will be something special, while also making the basic elements of Mario clear to new players.
Speaking of basic elements, Gateway Galaxy is a fantastic tutorial. The Star Bunny segment seamlessly introduces the game’s gravity mechanic, as well as the concepts of bushes, pipes, and craters. Rosalina’s introduction introduces a sense of mystery and quiet contemplation, and the next few planets establish the game’s phenomenal sense of epic adventure and even more gameplay elements: spinning, crystals, Launch Stars, Star Bits, enemies, Black Holes, Star Chips, Flip Switches, and electricity. And all this culminates in the rescue of the Grand Star, giving 4-year-old willn46 his first chance to save the universe and make it back home to the beautiful Comet Observatory.
But even beyond its importance to me, Mario Galaxy is simply an incredible 3D platformer. Right from the outset, Mario controls like a dream. Every input is immediately taken into account, with jumps, ground pounds, and everything in between being perfectly tuned to just feel good to use. But I’d be remiss not to mention the crown jewel of Mario’s moveset: the Spin Move. Not only is it a fantastic use of the Wii’s motion controls that feels both significant and unobtrusive (unless you have a disability that renders the controls unusable for you, in which case I am incredibly sorry), it’s also an incredibly versatile tool that’s easy to use, but has nearly limitless potential. First and foremost, the momentum-halting midair jump lets players easily recover from mistakes and adjust their positioning on the fly, giving newer players a safety net that eases them in to platforming in a 3D space. Additionally, the extra jump is great for getting places that seem just out of reach, horizontally or vertically, enabling the game to set up interesting platforming challenges and fun opportunities to skip past sections if the player is good enough. But the Spin Move isn’t just for platforming; it’s also the player’s primary means of interaction with the game. It’s used to defeat enemies, break objects, collect shells, swim faster, and so much more, and every interaction is completely intuitive (Ceave Gaming has a great video on this exact topic).
I’ve seen some people criticize the Galaxy games for not having as much movement tech as other 3D Mario games. While, yes, the movement here is much simpler than 64, Sunshine or Odyssey, I actually think it works to the game’s benefit. Not only is it much easier to learn, requiring the player to understand a few basic moves rather than a plethora of complex maneuvers, but the more limited moveset lets the game be carried entirely by its level design.
And said level design is top-notch. Like 64 and Sunshine before it, Galaxy spreads its 120 stars across multiple worlds for the plumber to tackle. But it trades their handful of levels holding a few collectibles for a supercluster of memorable locales, each one bearing a unique mechanical, visual and auditory identity. Fully committing to Sunshine’s separation of individual objectives lets the designers get the most out of a single Galaxy by introducing multiple ideas while still maintaining the level’s core themes, and splitting up the action across multiple planets allows for great variety within missions as well as between them. Plus, the introduction of mid-level checkpoints allows for longer levels that don’t feel like they drag on and gives the designers more time to play with a level’s gimmicks. The more linear level design even means the game’s limited camera rarely feels limiting. And the generous amount of Power Stars gives players plenty of freedom in choosing which levels to tackle.
This would all mean nothing if the levels themselves were boring, but luckily they couldn’t be further from that. Galaxy takes basic level tropes like Ice, Beach, and Desert levels and pushes them to their absolute limits: combining ice and fire mechanics in a lava-skating course, hiding the path to a deadly obstacle course behind an underwater cave, and navigating sand streams and tornadoes across an ocean of quicksand. And that’s not even mentioning the more original levels, like HoneyHive Galaxy, BattleRock Galaxy, or Toy Time Galaxy. Besides a few stinkers like the ball-rolling levels and some of the race levels, the level mechanics on display are consistently excellent in a way I think is only matched by this game's own sequel. Interesting obstacles like altered gravity, throwing Bob-Ombs, and launching from Sling Pods are expertly paced and explored to the fullest. Cool enemies like spinning tops, bugs that need to be ground-pounded, and giant eels combined with interesting spins on classic enemies like Goombas and Boos work wonders both from a mechanical and aesthetic standpoint. Plus the bosses are great tests of skill, utilizing a level’s mechanics in their battles on top of being tests of basic skill. Power ups are pretty fun too (besides the spring), with their own unique attributes, interactions with level gimmicks, and hazards to deal with.
And do I even need to mention the visuals and music? The artstyle is vibrant, yet the locales are consistently stunning, with great attention to detail both in the actual levels and in background elements. The character designs are excellent, both with how returning characters look and how the new characters perfectly fit in with Mario while still standing out. Plus, there are tons of cool little details and secret areas that, while they may be a little pointless, give the levels tons of personality. But even more impressive is the game’s music. The confident, orchestral themes give the game an almost cinematic feel, and yet each one perfectly fits within the level and the Mario series. There are so many standout pieces in this regard, like Good Egg Galaxy, BattleRock Galaxy, and Buoy Base Galaxy. However, the game also knows when to be more subdued and reflective, with pieces like Space Junk Galaxy and Gateway Galaxy.
And on that note…besides sparking my love of video games, there’s another reason this game means so much to me.
Back in late 2016, I made some mistakes. The details are personal, but long story short, I was a stupid 12-year-old who took his friends for granted and ended up losing them all. And for the entire month of November, going to school was absolute Hell for me because of it. In every class, I would argue with people, get teased, or get laughed at, and since a lot of it was my fault, I didn’t want to ask any teachers or my parents for help. Luckily, Thanksgiving Break rolled around eventually, and I was home safe. But at this point I realized something horrible: I had no one to turn to. All my friends left me because of my egotism, and my parents wouldn’t understand enough to help me. For that entire week, I was more or less left to think about my actions, angry at myself and at the people who hurt me. I didn’t know if I could go on, and before long, my mind went to some…dark places.
Then, on Sunday, the day before I had to go back to school, I thought I would boot up Mario Galaxy so I could at least have a little fun. I played around a little, going through some of my favorite levels, not really accomplishing much. But I enjoyed it. The game didn’t judge me. It didn’t try to hurt me. It didn’t care what I did. It was just there for me, and it was there to make me happy.
And…suddenly, I wasn’t alone anymore.
Not only did that moment save my life, not only did it bring me out of the hole I dug for myself, but it made me realize the true power of a good video game. Some people might say video games are silly little things, that they’re hunks of digital junk to give to a kid so they’ll shut up for a bit. But I think they’re more than that. Like any form of art, they can lift a person up, give them a new perspective on life, and help them move forward even when nobody else will. That moment is why I wanted to become a game designer. Because I wanted to help someone feel like someone cared for them, the same way Super Mario Galaxy helped me. Sometimes, when you’re feeling hopeless, that’s the only message you need to hear:
“Thank you so much for playing my game.”
It wasn’t the first game I played, or even the first Mario game (that honor goes to Mario Kart Wii), but it was the first to make me see games as an art form. It’s been over 15 years since I first sat down to play it at the tender age of 4 years old, but that first play session is burned into my brain. The transition from a quiet, somber storybook into a joyous festival instantly invokes a sense of childlike wonder and turns the remotely interested into the completely invested. Then, Bowser’s attack on the Star Festival and Mario’s defeat lets veteran Mario players know this adventure will be something special, while also making the basic elements of Mario clear to new players.
Speaking of basic elements, Gateway Galaxy is a fantastic tutorial. The Star Bunny segment seamlessly introduces the game’s gravity mechanic, as well as the concepts of bushes, pipes, and craters. Rosalina’s introduction introduces a sense of mystery and quiet contemplation, and the next few planets establish the game’s phenomenal sense of epic adventure and even more gameplay elements: spinning, crystals, Launch Stars, Star Bits, enemies, Black Holes, Star Chips, Flip Switches, and electricity. And all this culminates in the rescue of the Grand Star, giving 4-year-old willn46 his first chance to save the universe and make it back home to the beautiful Comet Observatory.
But even beyond its importance to me, Mario Galaxy is simply an incredible 3D platformer. Right from the outset, Mario controls like a dream. Every input is immediately taken into account, with jumps, ground pounds, and everything in between being perfectly tuned to just feel good to use. But I’d be remiss not to mention the crown jewel of Mario’s moveset: the Spin Move. Not only is it a fantastic use of the Wii’s motion controls that feels both significant and unobtrusive (unless you have a disability that renders the controls unusable for you, in which case I am incredibly sorry), it’s also an incredibly versatile tool that’s easy to use, but has nearly limitless potential. First and foremost, the momentum-halting midair jump lets players easily recover from mistakes and adjust their positioning on the fly, giving newer players a safety net that eases them in to platforming in a 3D space. Additionally, the extra jump is great for getting places that seem just out of reach, horizontally or vertically, enabling the game to set up interesting platforming challenges and fun opportunities to skip past sections if the player is good enough. But the Spin Move isn’t just for platforming; it’s also the player’s primary means of interaction with the game. It’s used to defeat enemies, break objects, collect shells, swim faster, and so much more, and every interaction is completely intuitive (Ceave Gaming has a great video on this exact topic).
I’ve seen some people criticize the Galaxy games for not having as much movement tech as other 3D Mario games. While, yes, the movement here is much simpler than 64, Sunshine or Odyssey, I actually think it works to the game’s benefit. Not only is it much easier to learn, requiring the player to understand a few basic moves rather than a plethora of complex maneuvers, but the more limited moveset lets the game be carried entirely by its level design.
And said level design is top-notch. Like 64 and Sunshine before it, Galaxy spreads its 120 stars across multiple worlds for the plumber to tackle. But it trades their handful of levels holding a few collectibles for a supercluster of memorable locales, each one bearing a unique mechanical, visual and auditory identity. Fully committing to Sunshine’s separation of individual objectives lets the designers get the most out of a single Galaxy by introducing multiple ideas while still maintaining the level’s core themes, and splitting up the action across multiple planets allows for great variety within missions as well as between them. Plus, the introduction of mid-level checkpoints allows for longer levels that don’t feel like they drag on and gives the designers more time to play with a level’s gimmicks. The more linear level design even means the game’s limited camera rarely feels limiting. And the generous amount of Power Stars gives players plenty of freedom in choosing which levels to tackle.
This would all mean nothing if the levels themselves were boring, but luckily they couldn’t be further from that. Galaxy takes basic level tropes like Ice, Beach, and Desert levels and pushes them to their absolute limits: combining ice and fire mechanics in a lava-skating course, hiding the path to a deadly obstacle course behind an underwater cave, and navigating sand streams and tornadoes across an ocean of quicksand. And that’s not even mentioning the more original levels, like HoneyHive Galaxy, BattleRock Galaxy, or Toy Time Galaxy. Besides a few stinkers like the ball-rolling levels and some of the race levels, the level mechanics on display are consistently excellent in a way I think is only matched by this game's own sequel. Interesting obstacles like altered gravity, throwing Bob-Ombs, and launching from Sling Pods are expertly paced and explored to the fullest. Cool enemies like spinning tops, bugs that need to be ground-pounded, and giant eels combined with interesting spins on classic enemies like Goombas and Boos work wonders both from a mechanical and aesthetic standpoint. Plus the bosses are great tests of skill, utilizing a level’s mechanics in their battles on top of being tests of basic skill. Power ups are pretty fun too (besides the spring), with their own unique attributes, interactions with level gimmicks, and hazards to deal with.
And do I even need to mention the visuals and music? The artstyle is vibrant, yet the locales are consistently stunning, with great attention to detail both in the actual levels and in background elements. The character designs are excellent, both with how returning characters look and how the new characters perfectly fit in with Mario while still standing out. Plus, there are tons of cool little details and secret areas that, while they may be a little pointless, give the levels tons of personality. But even more impressive is the game’s music. The confident, orchestral themes give the game an almost cinematic feel, and yet each one perfectly fits within the level and the Mario series. There are so many standout pieces in this regard, like Good Egg Galaxy, BattleRock Galaxy, and Buoy Base Galaxy. However, the game also knows when to be more subdued and reflective, with pieces like Space Junk Galaxy and Gateway Galaxy.
And on that note…besides sparking my love of video games, there’s another reason this game means so much to me.
Back in late 2016, I made some mistakes. The details are personal, but long story short, I was a stupid 12-year-old who took his friends for granted and ended up losing them all. And for the entire month of November, going to school was absolute Hell for me because of it. In every class, I would argue with people, get teased, or get laughed at, and since a lot of it was my fault, I didn’t want to ask any teachers or my parents for help. Luckily, Thanksgiving Break rolled around eventually, and I was home safe. But at this point I realized something horrible: I had no one to turn to. All my friends left me because of my egotism, and my parents wouldn’t understand enough to help me. For that entire week, I was more or less left to think about my actions, angry at myself and at the people who hurt me. I didn’t know if I could go on, and before long, my mind went to some…dark places.
Then, on Sunday, the day before I had to go back to school, I thought I would boot up Mario Galaxy so I could at least have a little fun. I played around a little, going through some of my favorite levels, not really accomplishing much. But I enjoyed it. The game didn’t judge me. It didn’t try to hurt me. It didn’t care what I did. It was just there for me, and it was there to make me happy.
And…suddenly, I wasn’t alone anymore.
Not only did that moment save my life, not only did it bring me out of the hole I dug for myself, but it made me realize the true power of a good video game. Some people might say video games are silly little things, that they’re hunks of digital junk to give to a kid so they’ll shut up for a bit. But I think they’re more than that. Like any form of art, they can lift a person up, give them a new perspective on life, and help them move forward even when nobody else will. That moment is why I wanted to become a game designer. Because I wanted to help someone feel like someone cared for them, the same way Super Mario Galaxy helped me. Sometimes, when you’re feeling hopeless, that’s the only message you need to hear:
“Thank you so much for playing my game.”
2000
It's not my favorite Mario RPG in terms of mechanics or story, but man does this game have the best vibes out of any N64 game.
“But, since we're all gonna die, there's one more secret I feel I have to share with you: I did not care for The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker.”
“What?”
“Did not care for Wind Waker.”
“How can you even say that, Dad?”
“Didn't like... didn't like it.”
“Peter, it's so good. It's like the perfect adventure game.”
“This is what everyone always says whenever...”
“Eiji Aonuma, Takashi Tezuka... I mean, you never see... Koji Kondo!”
“I know. Great, great composer. Did not like the game.”
“Why not?”
“Couldn't get into it.”
“Explain yourself. What didn't you like about it?”
“It insists upon itself, Lois.”
“What?”
“It insists upon itself.”
“What does that even mean?”
“'Cause it has a valid point to make, it's insistent!”
“It takes forever getting in, and then you go through this really terrible stealth section, and then, I can't even get through it. I can't even finish the game. I've never even seen the ending.”
“You've never seen the ending?!”
“How can you say you don't like it if you haven't even given it a chance?”
“I agree with Stewie. It's not really fair.”
“I have tried, on three separate occasions, to get through it, and I... I get to the part where you have to power up the Master Sword…”
“Yeah. That's a great part. I love that scene.”
“It's noted in every annal.”
“And you’re just going from place to place through the dungeons. Like, it’s really repetitive and the stuff you’re doing isn’t that interesting. That's why I lose interest and I go away.”
“It’s giving you freedom of exploration!”
“It’s offering you a wonderous adventure through a magical world, something you don't understand.”
“I love Link’s Awakening. That is my answer to that statement.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, there you go.”
“Whatever.”
“I like that game, too.”
“What?”
“Did not care for Wind Waker.”
“How can you even say that, Dad?”
“Didn't like... didn't like it.”
“Peter, it's so good. It's like the perfect adventure game.”
“This is what everyone always says whenever...”
“Eiji Aonuma, Takashi Tezuka... I mean, you never see... Koji Kondo!”
“I know. Great, great composer. Did not like the game.”
“Why not?”
“Couldn't get into it.”
“Explain yourself. What didn't you like about it?”
“It insists upon itself, Lois.”
“What?”
“It insists upon itself.”
“What does that even mean?”
“'Cause it has a valid point to make, it's insistent!”
“It takes forever getting in, and then you go through this really terrible stealth section, and then, I can't even get through it. I can't even finish the game. I've never even seen the ending.”
“You've never seen the ending?!”
“How can you say you don't like it if you haven't even given it a chance?”
“I agree with Stewie. It's not really fair.”
“I have tried, on three separate occasions, to get through it, and I... I get to the part where you have to power up the Master Sword…”
“Yeah. That's a great part. I love that scene.”
“It's noted in every annal.”
“And you’re just going from place to place through the dungeons. Like, it’s really repetitive and the stuff you’re doing isn’t that interesting. That's why I lose interest and I go away.”
“It’s giving you freedom of exploration!”
“It’s offering you a wonderous adventure through a magical world, something you don't understand.”
“I love Link’s Awakening. That is my answer to that statement.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, there you go.”
“Whatever.”
“I like that game, too.”
Dunkey deserves to rot in hell
2002
Super Mario Sunshine is an odd game. It has a lot of good qualities and I could easily see it ranking alongside people’s favorite games of all time, but there’s also a lot of stuff holding it back, arguably more than any other 3D Mario. But, as a fair game critic, I should start with the positives.
Mario Sunshine’s biggest strength is in its personality. Right from the title screen, the game introduces an offbeat tone in both design and visuals, letting players mess around with Mario’s moveset and making them physically select a file. The aesthetics are beautiful, with vibrant tropical locales that still hold up visually. The soundtrack has a unique style that’s both catchy and fitting to the environment. It’s even the only mainline Mario game to feature voice acting! Bad voice acting, yes, but the voices are indeed acting!
There are some really good character designs here, too. Newly introduced series icons like the Piantas, Petey Piranha, and Bowser Jr join sleeper hits like Cataquacks and Electro Koopas to form an all-star cast. Also, I love how E. Gadd’s ties to FLUDD and the Magic Paintbrush connect this game to Luigi’s Mansion, showcasing a continuity Mario hasn’t really done since…Dream Team? Sunshine isn’t the most charming of Mario’s Gamecube outings; it’s outdone by the sports titles and especially TTYD, but the vibes are still as fresh as the water from Mario’s jetpack.
Speaking of which, FLUDD is a great addition to the gameplay. Not only does he fit with the game’s theming, but he’s a wonderful tool in Mario’s arsenal. The spraying mechanics are fun to use, serving as both a means of attack and of increasing momentum. Plus, the additional airtime provided by the hover nozzle is a nifty means of getting around. The rocket and turbo nozzles are also pretty fun to use, offering great vertical and horizontal utility respectively. And when you fully understand how FLUDD works, movement becomes an absolute thrill ride, where Mario hops, slides, and speeds along at an exhilarating rate…
…Which makes it suck when the game forcibly removes these options. Scattered throughout Sunshine are a series of self-contained platforming challenges over a great blue void. This might sound like a great chance to use that movement I mentioned, but here’s the thing: You can’t use FLUDD in these sections. Now, on paper this is a fine enough idea. FLUDD is the game’s central mechanic, and it’s only fair that it spends the entire game fleshing him out as much as possible. And removing that mechanic is a good way of doing so.
There’s just one problem: Remember that fluid movement I mentioned earlier? Yeah, see how much fluid you get without your fancy water bottle. Mario Sunshine’s movement really wasn’t built around not having FLUDD, at least not in the context of precise platforming, which is the exact situation where they remove him. It just feels awkward trying to get around without him, the game’s odd lack of a long jump especially making traversal a lot more frustrating. And on top of that, these sections harshly punish your mistakes. One wrong move and you fall into a pit and have to start the section all over again. Oh, and God forbid you lose all your lives and have to trek back through the level, wasting even more of your time.
Okay, so the no-FLUDD sections are frustrating, but so what? Every Mario game has at least a few bad levels. Just skip them! Oh, you sweet, stupid summer child, let me introduce you to one of Sunshine’s other major blunders: the change in structure. Now, Mario 64 was very generous with its completion requirements, only requiring 70 of its 120 stars in order to face the final boss. Plus, you could get a level’s Power Stars in any order. This meant that if you didn’t like a level, that’s fine. You could just do another one. Sunshine, for some odd reason, lays out an incredibly specific goal for the player: you have to do the first 7 missions in every level in order to reach the ending. All those sections that really suck? Yeah, they’re mandatory. So either slog your crusty, dehydrated plumber through platformer purgatory or give up and haul your ass back to Kirby Air Ride (Please note that I hold no ill will against Kirby Air Ride or its playerbase).
Another victim of the game’s structure is the optional shines. Now, optional content in games is cool, but usually there’s some kind of reward attached to it. Like, oh, I don’t know, something that helps you progress in the story. Mario Sunshine throws all that out the window, snapshots its corpse, and slaps it on a custom-printed postcard from the Land of Sensible Design. Yeah, I wish I was there, too. So many neat ideas in Sunshine are gimped by their complete uselessness in the face of the game’s ultimate goal. The shines you can earn in the overworld? Sorry, their purpose is in another castle. The secret shines scattered throughout the levels? The real secret is they’re a waste of time. The blue coins? Please, you’re better off buying crypto. Even the fact that shines help unlock levels (I think) is redundant because the main missions already give you more than enough to unlock all of them.
Let’s talk about those main missions some more, because Sunshine’s level design is…odd, to say the least. Remember when I praised Mario Galaxy for how its tight level design got the most out of its simple movement? Sunshine’s kind of the opposite. You have a lot of movement options, but every level either removes your access to them or plops them into an uninteresting layout. In what I can only assume was due to the game’s rushed development, Sunshine’s levels sit at an awkward midpoint between 64’s open-ended playgrounds and Galaxy’s linear, mission-based structure. The levels are technically open, sure, but you have to do all the objectives in a specific order, one at a time. Unlike the Galaxy games, though, the bulk of the level often remains largely the same, just with an objective tacked on at a different point, so you don’t really feel the variety. For a game all about cleaning, they paid shockingly little attention to polish.
But for what it’s worth, the missions you do within the main levels are fine. They reuse a lot of objectives, but they do a good enough job being engaging and the movement carries it a fair bit. Plus, this game features Yoshi’s first 3D appearance, even if it is by far the weakest and it portrays him as oddly soluble. And unlike Mario 64, the bosses don’t suck, even if the final stretch of the game is god-awful. That’s the thing about Sunshine. It’s not a bad game. Hell, I’m even tempted to call it good. But it really squanders a lot of its best ideas with an array of baffling design decisions and a development cycle that leaves it feeling less finished than the GameCube’s actual tech demo. It had the potential to reach the sky, but for every time it came close, it just got burned.
Mario Sunshine’s biggest strength is in its personality. Right from the title screen, the game introduces an offbeat tone in both design and visuals, letting players mess around with Mario’s moveset and making them physically select a file. The aesthetics are beautiful, with vibrant tropical locales that still hold up visually. The soundtrack has a unique style that’s both catchy and fitting to the environment. It’s even the only mainline Mario game to feature voice acting! Bad voice acting, yes, but the voices are indeed acting!
There are some really good character designs here, too. Newly introduced series icons like the Piantas, Petey Piranha, and Bowser Jr join sleeper hits like Cataquacks and Electro Koopas to form an all-star cast. Also, I love how E. Gadd’s ties to FLUDD and the Magic Paintbrush connect this game to Luigi’s Mansion, showcasing a continuity Mario hasn’t really done since…Dream Team? Sunshine isn’t the most charming of Mario’s Gamecube outings; it’s outdone by the sports titles and especially TTYD, but the vibes are still as fresh as the water from Mario’s jetpack.
Speaking of which, FLUDD is a great addition to the gameplay. Not only does he fit with the game’s theming, but he’s a wonderful tool in Mario’s arsenal. The spraying mechanics are fun to use, serving as both a means of attack and of increasing momentum. Plus, the additional airtime provided by the hover nozzle is a nifty means of getting around. The rocket and turbo nozzles are also pretty fun to use, offering great vertical and horizontal utility respectively. And when you fully understand how FLUDD works, movement becomes an absolute thrill ride, where Mario hops, slides, and speeds along at an exhilarating rate…
…Which makes it suck when the game forcibly removes these options. Scattered throughout Sunshine are a series of self-contained platforming challenges over a great blue void. This might sound like a great chance to use that movement I mentioned, but here’s the thing: You can’t use FLUDD in these sections. Now, on paper this is a fine enough idea. FLUDD is the game’s central mechanic, and it’s only fair that it spends the entire game fleshing him out as much as possible. And removing that mechanic is a good way of doing so.
There’s just one problem: Remember that fluid movement I mentioned earlier? Yeah, see how much fluid you get without your fancy water bottle. Mario Sunshine’s movement really wasn’t built around not having FLUDD, at least not in the context of precise platforming, which is the exact situation where they remove him. It just feels awkward trying to get around without him, the game’s odd lack of a long jump especially making traversal a lot more frustrating. And on top of that, these sections harshly punish your mistakes. One wrong move and you fall into a pit and have to start the section all over again. Oh, and God forbid you lose all your lives and have to trek back through the level, wasting even more of your time.
Okay, so the no-FLUDD sections are frustrating, but so what? Every Mario game has at least a few bad levels. Just skip them! Oh, you sweet, stupid summer child, let me introduce you to one of Sunshine’s other major blunders: the change in structure. Now, Mario 64 was very generous with its completion requirements, only requiring 70 of its 120 stars in order to face the final boss. Plus, you could get a level’s Power Stars in any order. This meant that if you didn’t like a level, that’s fine. You could just do another one. Sunshine, for some odd reason, lays out an incredibly specific goal for the player: you have to do the first 7 missions in every level in order to reach the ending. All those sections that really suck? Yeah, they’re mandatory. So either slog your crusty, dehydrated plumber through platformer purgatory or give up and haul your ass back to Kirby Air Ride (Please note that I hold no ill will against Kirby Air Ride or its playerbase).
Another victim of the game’s structure is the optional shines. Now, optional content in games is cool, but usually there’s some kind of reward attached to it. Like, oh, I don’t know, something that helps you progress in the story. Mario Sunshine throws all that out the window, snapshots its corpse, and slaps it on a custom-printed postcard from the Land of Sensible Design. Yeah, I wish I was there, too. So many neat ideas in Sunshine are gimped by their complete uselessness in the face of the game’s ultimate goal. The shines you can earn in the overworld? Sorry, their purpose is in another castle. The secret shines scattered throughout the levels? The real secret is they’re a waste of time. The blue coins? Please, you’re better off buying crypto. Even the fact that shines help unlock levels (I think) is redundant because the main missions already give you more than enough to unlock all of them.
Let’s talk about those main missions some more, because Sunshine’s level design is…odd, to say the least. Remember when I praised Mario Galaxy for how its tight level design got the most out of its simple movement? Sunshine’s kind of the opposite. You have a lot of movement options, but every level either removes your access to them or plops them into an uninteresting layout. In what I can only assume was due to the game’s rushed development, Sunshine’s levels sit at an awkward midpoint between 64’s open-ended playgrounds and Galaxy’s linear, mission-based structure. The levels are technically open, sure, but you have to do all the objectives in a specific order, one at a time. Unlike the Galaxy games, though, the bulk of the level often remains largely the same, just with an objective tacked on at a different point, so you don’t really feel the variety. For a game all about cleaning, they paid shockingly little attention to polish.
But for what it’s worth, the missions you do within the main levels are fine. They reuse a lot of objectives, but they do a good enough job being engaging and the movement carries it a fair bit. Plus, this game features Yoshi’s first 3D appearance, even if it is by far the weakest and it portrays him as oddly soluble. And unlike Mario 64, the bosses don’t suck, even if the final stretch of the game is god-awful. That’s the thing about Sunshine. It’s not a bad game. Hell, I’m even tempted to call it good. But it really squanders a lot of its best ideas with an array of baffling design decisions and a development cycle that leaves it feeling less finished than the GameCube’s actual tech demo. It had the potential to reach the sky, but for every time it came close, it just got burned.
2013
I'll fully admit BattleBlock Theater isn't the most...sophisticated of 2D platformers, in more ways than one. A lot of my fondness for it is due to childhood nostalgia. Even so, it holds up incredibly well in 2024.
The aesthetics are very charming, capturing that Newgrounds artstyle very well while also sporting some wonderful details. The music absolutely slaps too, with the time trial and final level themes being personal favorites of mine. And the narrator is actually pretty funny! A large part of it is due to the performance, but there's some really good dialogue for him, the "pathological liar" bit being one of my favorites.
The gameplay is also fantastic. Your character is very responsive, easy to understand, and even has some nuance to their movement, like how you can double jump in midair with good timing or use the different weapons to sequence-break. The level design, while pretty simplistic, does a very good job consistently introducing new gimmicks and switching things up in a way that feels both fresh and fun. And that's not even mentioning the co-op, versus, and level editor modes, which add tons of really fun content.
And I really love the horses in this game. They're just these strange, cubic creatures and they're beautiful.
The aesthetics are very charming, capturing that Newgrounds artstyle very well while also sporting some wonderful details. The music absolutely slaps too, with the time trial and final level themes being personal favorites of mine. And the narrator is actually pretty funny! A large part of it is due to the performance, but there's some really good dialogue for him, the "pathological liar" bit being one of my favorites.
The gameplay is also fantastic. Your character is very responsive, easy to understand, and even has some nuance to their movement, like how you can double jump in midair with good timing or use the different weapons to sequence-break. The level design, while pretty simplistic, does a very good job consistently introducing new gimmicks and switching things up in a way that feels both fresh and fun. And that's not even mentioning the co-op, versus, and level editor modes, which add tons of really fun content.
And I really love the horses in this game. They're just these strange, cubic creatures and they're beautiful.
You know how a lot of reviews say "X game is great when you don't have someone constantly telling you it's mid"?
TTYD is great when you don't have someone constantly telling you it's the best game ever made and ranting for the millionth time about how bad Sticker Star was.
TTYD is great when you don't have someone constantly telling you it's the best game ever made and ranting for the millionth time about how bad Sticker Star was.
2020
While Pikmin 3 Deluxe is outdone by other Pikmin games in specific areas, like 1's narrative, 2's sense of humor, or 4's level design, it remains my favorite in the series. There are a few reasons why, but more than anything I think it's easily the most fun to master.
Pikmin 3 is, in my opinion, the fully realized version of Pikmin 1's design ethos. It's an exercise in learning the mechanics, learning the levels, and finding out how to do everything as quickly and efficiently as possible. Every Pikmin type remains useful both when completing the main objectives and when revisiting areas for cleanup. The increased size of levels and variety of objectives gives the player plenty of room to figure out what to tackle and when (Tropical Wilds especially is really fun to optimize).
And of course, the introduction of the "Go Here" command is quite possibly the best thing to ever happen to the series, opening up a world of possibilities for multitasking. It allows for simultaneous completion of multiple objectives and management of special objectives requiring multiple captains. All this, on top of managing Pikmin counts and Spicy Spray, gives Pikmin 3 a feeling of "Dandori" its prequels couldn't match and its sequel ironically refused to. It's not perfect; the timer's very lax, the balance scale puzzle in Garden of Hope is a little annoying to speed through, and placing exactly two fruits underwater in Twilight River is a bit of a dick move. But I think it comes closer than any other game in the series.
On top of all that, it has some absolutely phenomenal extras. Mission Mode is a fantastic addition that pushes your time management skills to their absolute limits. Bingo Battle is a really fun multiplayer mode, though I haven't played much of it. The option to take photos is a neat extra, especially with a game this beautiful. And the stuff Deluxe adds is no slouch either. The Piklopedia's back, complete with Louie's cooking logs. Co-op in the main campaign is a blast to play with a buddy (and is such an obvious addition I question why it hasn't been a thing since Pikmin 2). And there are so many charming Easter Eggs and little bits of dialogue that add so much to the experience. It's really good! I don't know what else to say.
Pikmin 3 is, in my opinion, the fully realized version of Pikmin 1's design ethos. It's an exercise in learning the mechanics, learning the levels, and finding out how to do everything as quickly and efficiently as possible. Every Pikmin type remains useful both when completing the main objectives and when revisiting areas for cleanup. The increased size of levels and variety of objectives gives the player plenty of room to figure out what to tackle and when (Tropical Wilds especially is really fun to optimize).
And of course, the introduction of the "Go Here" command is quite possibly the best thing to ever happen to the series, opening up a world of possibilities for multitasking. It allows for simultaneous completion of multiple objectives and management of special objectives requiring multiple captains. All this, on top of managing Pikmin counts and Spicy Spray, gives Pikmin 3 a feeling of "Dandori" its prequels couldn't match and its sequel ironically refused to. It's not perfect; the timer's very lax, the balance scale puzzle in Garden of Hope is a little annoying to speed through, and placing exactly two fruits underwater in Twilight River is a bit of a dick move. But I think it comes closer than any other game in the series.
On top of all that, it has some absolutely phenomenal extras. Mission Mode is a fantastic addition that pushes your time management skills to their absolute limits. Bingo Battle is a really fun multiplayer mode, though I haven't played much of it. The option to take photos is a neat extra, especially with a game this beautiful. And the stuff Deluxe adds is no slouch either. The Piklopedia's back, complete with Louie's cooking logs. Co-op in the main campaign is a blast to play with a buddy (and is such an obvious addition I question why it hasn't been a thing since Pikmin 2). And there are so many charming Easter Eggs and little bits of dialogue that add so much to the experience. It's really good! I don't know what else to say.
This review contains spoilers
Trials and Tribulations is the best game in the trilogy, but I know I'm far from the first to say it, so I might as well give my reasons why, one case at a time.
Turnabout Memories: This is an awesome twist on the classic AA formula. We get to learn about Mia's career, Phoenix's past, and of course, Grossberg's hemorrhoids. Dahlia is a great villain and I love how blatantly guilty she is thanks entirely to Mia's POV. It also sets up a great central mystery, though we won't see the fruits of it until much later. The best first case in the trilogy.
The Stolen Turnabout: The best "filler case" in the trilogy. A case that's not a murder mystery (at first) is incredibly refreshing and something I wish the series would do more often. Seeing Adrian and Larry return and how they've moved on with their lives is awesome, and the new characters are just as good. Luke Atmey is a really entertaining villain, and Ron and Desiree are very sweet and I love them. But that's not even the best part of the case. No, this case graces us with my favorite character in the trilogy: Godot. His design and mannerisms are top-notch and the mystery behind his character is both immediately intriguing and immensely satisfying (but more on that later).
Recipe for Turnabout: ...Okay, nobody's perfect. I consider this the second-weakest case in the trilogy, just behind Big Top. I know a lot of stupid shit happens in Ace Attorney, but the Sonic Adventure 2 plotline with Don Tigre is where I draw the line. Also, I don't like Kudo or Armstrong. It's not all bad, though. Maggie's still a fun character and I like the arc with her and Gumshoe. And despite my complaints about his mysterious shapeshifting abilities, I think Don Tigre's a good villain. Also, I like how we get more time to learn about Godot as a prosecutor and the foreshadowing about how he can't see red. That's cool.
Turnabout Beginnings: Speaking of Godot, OH NO HE'S HOT. With that out of the way, this case is great. I love its use of dramatic irony and twists on the AA formula to set up the tragedy of Terry Fawles: You're gonna lose this case, and you know it. You just don't know how. It manages to build up Mia, Godot, Edgeworth, and Dahlia as characters in an interesting way. It's effectively half a case that exists as setup, but it's really good setup that leads to an even better payoff.
Bridge to the Turnabout: Talk about saving the best for last. Bridge to the Turnabout is, without question, my favorite case in the trilogy. True, the setup may seem convoluted and require a little suspension of disbelief, but those are minor nitpicks in the face of everything this case does right. It immediately sets up the mystery of a girl who looks mysteriously like Dahlia, set against the backdrop of a serene temple in the mountains. Then it raises the stakes, placing both Nick and Maya in mortal peril, leaving Edgeworth to step in and defend Iris. Franziska finally gets the conclusion to her arc in a fantastic twist on the series' signature courtroom battles. And it only gets better: Upon Nick's revival, everything involving DL-6, the Fey family, and Godot's past comes to a head, using everything the trilogy has built to craft an intricate web for the murder of Maya's mother. Immediately after, we get what is easily the best use of spirit channeling in the series: a cross-examination of a ghost revealing a plan to keep Maya safe, ending in Phoenix banishing Dahlia's soul to Hell (I am not joking).
But that's not even the best part. The reveal of the true killer finally gives Phoenix the conclusion to his arc, proving his capability as a lawyer to the man who doubted him the most. And of course, Godot's backstory and motivations are an expertly crafted combination of compelling and tragic. This is the only case in the original trilogy where I cried, and it's all thanks to him. Overall, Bridge to the Turnabout, like the game that bears it, is a perfect finale.
Turnabout Memories: This is an awesome twist on the classic AA formula. We get to learn about Mia's career, Phoenix's past, and of course, Grossberg's hemorrhoids. Dahlia is a great villain and I love how blatantly guilty she is thanks entirely to Mia's POV. It also sets up a great central mystery, though we won't see the fruits of it until much later. The best first case in the trilogy.
The Stolen Turnabout: The best "filler case" in the trilogy. A case that's not a murder mystery (at first) is incredibly refreshing and something I wish the series would do more often. Seeing Adrian and Larry return and how they've moved on with their lives is awesome, and the new characters are just as good. Luke Atmey is a really entertaining villain, and Ron and Desiree are very sweet and I love them. But that's not even the best part of the case. No, this case graces us with my favorite character in the trilogy: Godot. His design and mannerisms are top-notch and the mystery behind his character is both immediately intriguing and immensely satisfying (but more on that later).
Recipe for Turnabout: ...Okay, nobody's perfect. I consider this the second-weakest case in the trilogy, just behind Big Top. I know a lot of stupid shit happens in Ace Attorney, but the Sonic Adventure 2 plotline with Don Tigre is where I draw the line. Also, I don't like Kudo or Armstrong. It's not all bad, though. Maggie's still a fun character and I like the arc with her and Gumshoe. And despite my complaints about his mysterious shapeshifting abilities, I think Don Tigre's a good villain. Also, I like how we get more time to learn about Godot as a prosecutor and the foreshadowing about how he can't see red. That's cool.
Turnabout Beginnings: Speaking of Godot, OH NO HE'S HOT. With that out of the way, this case is great. I love its use of dramatic irony and twists on the AA formula to set up the tragedy of Terry Fawles: You're gonna lose this case, and you know it. You just don't know how. It manages to build up Mia, Godot, Edgeworth, and Dahlia as characters in an interesting way. It's effectively half a case that exists as setup, but it's really good setup that leads to an even better payoff.
Bridge to the Turnabout: Talk about saving the best for last. Bridge to the Turnabout is, without question, my favorite case in the trilogy. True, the setup may seem convoluted and require a little suspension of disbelief, but those are minor nitpicks in the face of everything this case does right. It immediately sets up the mystery of a girl who looks mysteriously like Dahlia, set against the backdrop of a serene temple in the mountains. Then it raises the stakes, placing both Nick and Maya in mortal peril, leaving Edgeworth to step in and defend Iris. Franziska finally gets the conclusion to her arc in a fantastic twist on the series' signature courtroom battles. And it only gets better: Upon Nick's revival, everything involving DL-6, the Fey family, and Godot's past comes to a head, using everything the trilogy has built to craft an intricate web for the murder of Maya's mother. Immediately after, we get what is easily the best use of spirit channeling in the series: a cross-examination of a ghost revealing a plan to keep Maya safe, ending in Phoenix banishing Dahlia's soul to Hell (I am not joking).
But that's not even the best part. The reveal of the true killer finally gives Phoenix the conclusion to his arc, proving his capability as a lawyer to the man who doubted him the most. And of course, Godot's backstory and motivations are an expertly crafted combination of compelling and tragic. This is the only case in the original trilogy where I cried, and it's all thanks to him. Overall, Bridge to the Turnabout, like the game that bears it, is a perfect finale.
This game came out in 2006 and remains the gold standard for turn-based JRPG's. Every game should have Allen Ridgeley in it.
This review contains spoilers
Rather than talking about the full game here, I figured I might as well use these reviews to talk about the individual cases in each AA game.
The First Turnabout: It's a good first case. It does a good job introducing the main character and the basic mechanics. Not much else to say here.
Turnabout Sisters: I love how quickly the game raises the stakes here. Mia's dead and you have to prove her sister innocent of murder. Then, when things are finally looking up, suddenly Phoenix is accused of murder. Then Mia gets brought back to life and bails his ass out which I will probably talk more about at a later date. Great case. Also, I don't know why Edgeworth updating the autopsy report became such a meme when it only happens in this one case.
Turnabout Samurai: The best third case in the original trilogy. It does go on a bit too long for my liking and I do not like Sal Manella, but the other characters are great and the central mystery is actually really well-done. Also, it gave us Unnecessary Feelings so that automatically makes it good.
Turnabout Goodbyes: The best case in the game, and my third-favorite from the trilogy. It establishes the DL-6 incident as the basis for the rest of the series, adds a ton to Phoenix and Edgeworth, and has so many memorable moments: Larry showing up at the last second, cross-examining the parrot, pulling out the metal detector on Von Karma. A near-perfect send-off and set-up. Also what was Grossberg doing at the boathouse
Rise From the Ashes: It's the longest and most complicated case in the original trilogy. I haven't played Apollo Justice so I can't say how well it sets up those characters, but within the context of the case they're great. Ema is really fun, even if she is just "we have Maya at home" for the time being, Angel Starr and Jake Marshall are fun witnesses, and Damon Gant is a fantastic villain. There's some great stuff with Edgeworth and Gumshoe, too. The case can drag on quite a bit, and the mechanics can be really annoying at times (especially the Blue Badger stuff), but for the most part they're really good. It definitely elevates the game quite a bit imo.
The First Turnabout: It's a good first case. It does a good job introducing the main character and the basic mechanics. Not much else to say here.
Turnabout Sisters: I love how quickly the game raises the stakes here. Mia's dead and you have to prove her sister innocent of murder. Then, when things are finally looking up, suddenly Phoenix is accused of murder. Then Mia gets brought back to life and bails his ass out which I will probably talk more about at a later date. Great case. Also, I don't know why Edgeworth updating the autopsy report became such a meme when it only happens in this one case.
Turnabout Samurai: The best third case in the original trilogy. It does go on a bit too long for my liking and I do not like Sal Manella, but the other characters are great and the central mystery is actually really well-done. Also, it gave us Unnecessary Feelings so that automatically makes it good.
Turnabout Goodbyes: The best case in the game, and my third-favorite from the trilogy. It establishes the DL-6 incident as the basis for the rest of the series, adds a ton to Phoenix and Edgeworth, and has so many memorable moments: Larry showing up at the last second, cross-examining the parrot, pulling out the metal detector on Von Karma. A near-perfect send-off and set-up. Also what was Grossberg doing at the boathouse
Rise From the Ashes: It's the longest and most complicated case in the original trilogy. I haven't played Apollo Justice so I can't say how well it sets up those characters, but within the context of the case they're great. Ema is really fun, even if she is just "we have Maya at home" for the time being, Angel Starr and Jake Marshall are fun witnesses, and Damon Gant is a fantastic villain. There's some great stuff with Edgeworth and Gumshoe, too. The case can drag on quite a bit, and the mechanics can be really annoying at times (especially the Blue Badger stuff), but for the most part they're really good. It definitely elevates the game quite a bit imo.
2018
I've never been one for this kind of platformer, but it's definitely neat to see one that uses its difficulty to empower the player rather than trying to enrage them. Always nice when games actually care.
Hmmm I wonder what's for dinner
Initially, I questioned whether it was worth buying this game during the Steam Spring Sale. "It's just Tetris", I thought, "You can play it online for free."
Not only is this by far my favorite version of Tetris, it's an experience unlike any other game I've played. The visuals and sound design are breathtaking on their own, but combined with the tense gameplay of Tetris, they instantly put you in a zen-like state of dropping pieces, lining them up, and planning out your next moves. Honestly, I think it's a concept that can only work as a Tetris game; since the game is so easy to understand and so widely known, the game can focus entirely on creating a sensory experience and tapping into what makes the game so much fun in the first place.
Also, it just feels amazing to play, with responsive controls, all the QOL features from past iterations of Tetris, and a plethora of modes to test the limits of your skills. And even if you're not into that, there's a completely faithful recreation of NES Tetris available from the get-go, showcasing a further understanding of the game's legacy. It is absolutely worth the 20 dollars I spent on it, and I would recommend anyone who remotely likes Tetris to do the same.
Not only is this by far my favorite version of Tetris, it's an experience unlike any other game I've played. The visuals and sound design are breathtaking on their own, but combined with the tense gameplay of Tetris, they instantly put you in a zen-like state of dropping pieces, lining them up, and planning out your next moves. Honestly, I think it's a concept that can only work as a Tetris game; since the game is so easy to understand and so widely known, the game can focus entirely on creating a sensory experience and tapping into what makes the game so much fun in the first place.
Also, it just feels amazing to play, with responsive controls, all the QOL features from past iterations of Tetris, and a plethora of modes to test the limits of your skills. And even if you're not into that, there's a completely faithful recreation of NES Tetris available from the get-go, showcasing a further understanding of the game's legacy. It is absolutely worth the 20 dollars I spent on it, and I would recommend anyone who remotely likes Tetris to do the same.
Mah boi this peace is what all true warriors strive for