INT - Advanced Dungeons & Dragons

Haiku-Review:

intrepid heroes,
quest to mend the Crown of Kings-
a grand adventure

Additional Comments:

The continuation of the saga which I've come to brand: 2014. Lay waste to the games left undone by defeating them whole in the quest to Beat All Games. Advanced Dungeons & Dragons for the dear old Mattel Intellivision is the next unfinished victim to finally say goodbye to my list of shame. But alas, this game is brilliantly designed and fun to play, so wherefore would I ever dust this title aside for considerable time likened to a beauteous maiden behind lock and key in some long forgotten dungeon?

The answer, somewhat akin to that of Shenmue's initial woes: technical issues. However, unlike my Dreamcast issue erring on the side of laziness, my sudden issue with the Intellivision was a bit more of an actual problem, and still is. Shortly after playing Advanced Dungeons & Dragons and breezing through Easy, I upgraded my television. This became a problem for some of my older systems, namely my Famicom, 2600, and Intellivision. After some time fighting with the 2600 and procuring a new switchbox, I was able to make the 2600 compatible. I've yet to manage anything out of the Intellivision, although I have had a few moments of hope here and there. In the long run though, just haven't been able to make a promising connection.

As a result, I found myself having to rely on emulation for the time being - well, at least long enough to knock this game off the list. However, using, or attempting to use, an Intellivision emulator is no easy feat in itself. I'm fairly familiar with a large scope of emulators for all sorts of gaming devices, and rarely have I ever struggled to set an emulator up for usage. Certain standouts include Project 64 when I had to overhaul a bunch of settings for one game in particular, but still an easy job. The various PlayStation emulators are a bit of a pain in the ass, but usable. I've pulled my hair out over a few Spectrum and Amstrad emulators but eventually got stuff running - although mysteriously my Spectrum emulator no longer wants to play nice. Don't know what's going on there. And then there's the assorted Intellivision emulators. I would have never imagined that this would be the system to give me the most grief in emulated form. I think I read up on about four or five different emus and tried out at least three of them before I got something working. But then comes the real issue with emulating the Intellivision: how to best emulate that funky 80s carphone controller. There is no easy way, and I absolutely refuse to play any sort of game with a keyboard. So...how do I make my PS2 style Logitech function as an Intellivision 12-key? Crap.

So perhaps it's best to recall my initial playthrough on Easy mode back before the game ended up on my snub list. Unfortunately, it's been a while so I don't have the best recollection. Best memories I can call up are fighting with the Intellivision's clunky controller. How did anyone successfully navigate any sort of game with those things. It's not that there's an ungodly number of buttons, but that it's so awkward to hold; more so than a Nintendo 64 controller...by a long shot. Having to use two hands, I never found an appropriate grip for ease of play. I'll admit I could get by on Easy, but after ramping up to the second difficulty where speed became more of a factor, I found myself fumbling with the keypad.

However, I have to wonder if some of the game's clunky control is down to the decision of using the entire keypad as firing directions. In more modern consoles, i.e. anything post-1984, direction of fire would be solely based on the direction the character faces. I feel developers felt like they had to make use of the console's many buttons just because they could. Perhaps they chalked it up as realism. Whatever the case, it only adds to the already clumsy design of the controller and as you progress through the game and speed continues to build as a dominant factor in game difficulty, you've got to seriously question the decision. Though I have to think if the controller was designed in such a way that I could properly hold it with both hands, the whole issue would be moot. Data suggest this to be a sound hypothesis based on my latter difficulty runs via emulator using a PS2 style controller. I must state, however, that using a PS2 style controller is neither easier nor harder than the original Intellivision brick. Having the ability to hold the controller within both hands definitely made a world of difference though.

Enough about emulators, controllers, and other eccentricities that have little to do about the game in hand. Advanced Dungeons & Dragons is a marvelous game and in my opinion, quite advanced for its time. Upon initial play I was impressed, but I didn't readily pick up on the details of why exactly this game deserves high marks. I simply saw it as an adventurous romp, imagining it to be a sort of spiritual predecessor to the likes of Legend of Zelda. Sure, it's basic, but for me far more engaging than other early console adventure games, for example the Swordquest series on the 2600. I like the Swordquest series, but every time I've played one of them, I just lose interest. Perhaps it's the total web of confusion that the series hoists upon its shoulders whereas Advanced Dungeons & Dragons is intuitive; very clear and concise regarding its goals. That's not to say that Swordquest may be as well if I gave it the old college try, but I've always found my mind wandering to other 2600 titles within twenty or thirty minutes of play. Here, however, I just wanted to keep going while other Intellivision titles were relegated to indefinite shelf time. Sadly, the time to complete the game is minimal once you understand the strategies required - which brings me to my next point.

Initially, I misunderstood the game in regards to strategy. Unaware that strategy was key and that a plethora of clues were scattered across each dungeon, I tackled each dungeon in a reckless burst of speed. Strange, considering I play nearly every game I come across as a carefully calculating protagonist. Rarely do I ever rush into a situation guns a blazing. In fact, if there's ever a chance to avoid confrontation, I'll make it so, which unfortunately lends to me taking far longer to complete games than it should. But when it came to this game: to hell with personal gaming instincts. Fortunately, I could afford my imprudent behavior on Easy and even Medium, but once I reached Medium-Hard, enemy speed and lack of ammunition showed me the errors of my ways.

I'm one of those rare gamers that reads manuals - which I should mention, it saddens me to no end that manuals have gone the way of the dodo. But that's a whole other mess that I could rant on about. Anyway, it's been some time since I started Advanced Dungeons & Dragons until now when I finally got around to finishing it off. I recall reading through the manual when I first started but chose to forego a refresher. As a result, I completely forgot those random sets of black pixels represented paw prints. At the same time, I was aware the other set of prints were prints, but neglected to realize the importance behind them. Oh, you mean there's a demon in the next room? Idiot here. Don't mind me. Just doing some casual spelunking with a total disregard for certain death. Aloof much? Sheesh...

Between tracking prints and listening for a lone monster's roar, a strategic hunt is born. And once I fully realized this I viewed the game anew as a beautifully conceived quest dependent on fastidious combat maneuvers - insomuch as can be performed on the primitive Intellivision. I already loved the game by this point, but suddenly my praise and adoration increased exponentially. Advanced Dungeons & Dragons definitely deserves merit for encouraging the player to focus on sound, and considering the game came out in 1982, that just seems like such a ballsy move. After all, the extent of game audio in the day consisted of noises equivalent to a dot matrix printer having a stroke. Still, it works, and not only that, it works well. The sounds used easily evoke the proper imagery thus making this one of the earliest examples of immersive gameplay that I've come across...and succeeding!

For any fan of the Intellivision, I can only recommend this game with great acclaim. A must play in my opinion. It's only downfall, as I mentioned, would be its length, or lack thereof - though that depends on what map you're on or what route you shoot for I suppose. Still... However, given that we're dealing with a time period that predates the capability for saves or password functionality, or heck, ability to complete a game considering a vast majority of titles resorted to arcade style high score runs, I can accept the length for what it is. A single sitting for anything longer could be considered asking a lot from the player, but then, I find myself thinking about that pesky Swordquest series again.

Rating: 4.5 purple mountain majesties out of 5*

*Unlike America's purple mountain majesties, Advanced Dungeons & Dragons' are demon infested deathtraps. Yikes!

DC - Shenmue

Haiku-Review:

'tis best to follow
a game about warehousing
with more warehousing

Additional Comments:

To speak of Shenmue, I feel I must begin with a wholly controversial; borderline, er...perhaps over the line blasphemous remark. Simply put, I am flabbergasted beyond words that this game is held in such high accord among the gaming community. Maybe dumbstruck's a better word, because that's exactly how I felt the entire playthrough - stricken dumb by the idea that Shenmue dares call itself a game.

Well, to continue the tale of 2014, Shenmue is yet another game that's been collecting dust on my backlog of unfinished games, although extraneous circumstances also came into play here. I've been meaning to perform a battery swap on my Dreamcast ever since I bought it a couple years back and just failed to do so out of laziness. Of course, blaming "technical" issues is farcical at best as the system is still playable. But my obsessive compulsive behavior got the best of me every time I powered the system on and had to re-enter the date and time, eventually growing tiresome of the task. Luckily, Shenmue's such a pile that my apathetic predisposition solved the apparent problem at hand. Only drawback is that all my other Dreamcast games found themselves tucked away in the recesses of my collection until the required repairs were made.

I finally got around to making the appropriate repair and as such decided to wipe another game from the unfinished slate. Dropped in the disc and turned the game on. Crap! I haven't the foggiest idea what's going on in this game anymore; never mind how to even do anything. At this point, I felt the best course of action was to simply start over again. I had no clue where I left off, what I was supposed to be doing, or why I should care and given how much emphasis is placed on conversation in this game, attempting to continue after a two year lapse was not only hopeless, but stupid.

Ok then! Shenmue! From the beginning! Let's see what it's all about. And might I add, I'm attempting to go into this playthrough with more of an open mind, hoping to put aside my previous bellyaching. Oh my god, it's all coming back to me. I suddenly remember why I condemned this game and lambasted it with a snide meme a couple years back in one of my anniversary posts. But before I fall headfirst into a laundry list of complaints, I want to try and remark on those few redeeming values found within.

The overhead music heard within Dobuita's Tomato Convenience Store is the catchiest piece of elevator music I've ever heard and I'd purposefully put aside the troubles of tunnel-visioned vengeance just for a quick earful of its delights.

And...and...that's it. Seriously, that's it! Ok, maybe there's a few more positives than that, but I'll be damned if I know what they are. I'm really wracking my head trying to think of commendable qualities and every time I think I have one, it's riddled with failure. Even Tomato's BGM is a peculiarity given how the rest of the music is sappy drivel or humdrum atmospherics. No. Both "sappy" and "atmospherics" are too descriptive and enlightening to describe the unemotional, drawn out boredom that is the soundtrack of Shenmue. I'd be happy if it was at least cliché, but it's not even that. It's certainly not painful or distracting to listen to, but it adds absolutely nothing to an already boring game. For collection purposes, I bought as many cassettes as I could, but couldn't bring myself to listen to any of them. I tried, but it's all just so...awful. So awful. What a waste of yen and time. But honestly, the music is the least of my grievances.

Where should I start? The controls? The plot? The voice acting? Or any of the various elements that come together hoping to mesh into a cohesive game and achieve realism as it has never been seen before? I need to stop right there. I'll admit that for the time, considering when the game came out, Shenmue managed some pretty impressive innovations in game design and presentation. I think a lot of what's going on in the game can easily be taken for granted when compared to games today. Shenmue managed a certain beauty and depth that was all but absent in most games before its time, but it also botched it all up with primitive game play elements that's barely a step above an interactive storybook.

I suppose I'll get the easy stuff out of the way first. Controls. I can't really blame the game for the controls as the Dreamcast's controller is complete bollocks, but I think they could have done a better job using the tools at hand. Movement should have been applied to the joystick. I can't understand why the camera got precedence over movement when it came to control application, especially since the camera is so useless outside of a few first person explorations, and even then it's shitty at best because of the camera lock. Since the d-pad and joystick both occupy the left side of the controller, you will pretty much never use both at the same time. They could have easily applied both to the joystick having the camera only function while zoomed into first person view. One of the main reasons why I would have liked to seen movement set to the joystick is to allow for better overall turning and to get rid of that awful down equals quick turn garbage. Also, the d-pad makes the movement feel spongy. Heck, all of the controls feel rather spongy. If it wasn't for the fact that my controller is brand new, I'd put it down to the controller itself, but the controls in this game are just so unresponsive except when it comes to the fighting.

Actually, the fighting mechanic turned out to be one of the better elements in the game. Unfortunately, I'm not a big fan of fighting games, mostly because I despise thumb-twisting button combos used to perform enough moves to fill an almanac. To me, these types of games just end up being button mashers. Same proved true here. In the beginning, I tried to adhere to various button combos. Since the controls managed to be spot on for this part of the game, I was able to perform the required protocol for each move-set quite handily. However, as the game wore on and various "teachers" continued to teach me additional moves, I became disinterested in move-set memorization. This resulted in regressing back to classic button mashing. Just throw a bunch of kicks and move on. I don't think I even used the move Master Chen offers before the final battle as I had a hard enough time fumbling with it during its mastering. Kick and wait, and then kick again - that's all you need. Mad Angels defeated.

Before I move on, since I'll find myself circling back around to the fighting mechanic, I have to wonder about the QTE segments. For a game that's attempting realism and fully immersive play, the QTE segments are like that of an asshole suddenly running up and throwing mud in your eye. They're nothing but a dickish memorization mechanic quickly ruining any sense of immersion. Yu managed to create a living, breathing community within Shenmue, and as I said, given the time, is a spectacular achievement. As such, it's one of the earliest games where I think the player can make a genuine bond with Ryo or any other element within the game because there's a certain warmth of environment. Er, I use the term "warmth" loosely here, as the game is anything but warm, but more on that later. But then you have these QTE segments that suddenly reminds us how cold and mechanical a video game really is. Perhaps if choice on the player's part came into play, these scenes would actually add something to the game. Instead, they're practices in memorization and nothing more. Other than two scenes, if you fail you have to redo the whole scene. Why? Why aren't these just cutscenes if that's the case!? There's no reason for any of the QTE segments if there's no chance for optional outcomes. If I wanted to memorize a sequence of buttons presses, I'd play any number of present day music games, or hell, Battletoads.

Or...or, here's a brilliant idea. Since a majority of the QTE segments are based on scripted fighting, why couldn't they have taken advantage of the already implemented fighting engine and let the player determine their own fate? The fighting engine sees so little use as it is. Outside of practice or sparring with Fukuhara, fighting is a rarity. I spent more time driving a fucking forklift than I did fighting! Yea, that's what kids want in their games: forklift simulation. But, we'll offer them a fighting mechanic as a tease by minimizing the amount of playable fighting by storyboarding most of the fighting into constrictive "interactive" cutscenes that rely on quick reflexes and memorization. What the fuck!?

Ah yes, the forklifts. Ok, it's not so much that I loathe Shenmue's sudden urge to become a dockside simulator - although I do - but more how the game seems to give the player a diminishing sense of freedom by the time you reach the third disc. Ryo's day job as a forklift operator already eats up so much of your day. You'd think once the whistle blows full control of Ryo's will would fall back into the player's hand. Well, technically it does, but only if you have the same desires to stay within the confines of Yokosuka Harbor that the game demands. I understand that at this point of the game, everything needed to progress the story is in the harbor, but I'm not a fan of the sudden hand-holding approach the game takes to keep you there. I thought the game was built around this idea of world freedom. If I want to leave the harbor before 9:00pm, or whatever time Shenmue finally concedes to Ryo's wishes to return to the comforts of home, then let me.

Then there's the forced sleeping. Itself, it's not really an issue, but by the time you reach the third disc and take on a job , the two compulsory elements combined strip the player of all real freedoms. Hey, I guess it is like real life after all. Wait. Why would I want to play a game like real life? Games are supposed to be entertainment and a way to escape real life. You can't even make decent use of the money you earn because that two hour window between being allowed to leave Yokosuka Harbor and having to return home for a night's sleep is just barely enough to take advantage of anything on offer in Dobuita, which is limited itself since half the town is shut down by that point. Suppose I can pick up a few cassettes at Tomato and catch a quick listen of its captivating Siren song.

What was I initially jabbering on about? Ah yes, the forklifts - another "If I" moment. If I wanted to play a game that's all about moving boxes, I'll go back to playing Shove It!, and believe me, that game was a hell of a lot more fun.

Moving on to the story. First, I want to hit up the voice acting. Granted the voice acting obviously doesn't fit the characterization, but that's not my issue. My issue is that they could have done a better job. A few particular characters have decent voices: Nozomi and Fukuhara come to mind, as do some of the various elderlies, notably Ine. Their voices seem to fit their personas. Then there's others where the voices are either too strongly Amercanized or even have some odd accent attached. I swore I heard someone with an ever so slight Aussie inflection. What? And then there's Ryo. It wasn't so much his voice but his way of speaking. Why is his speaking so slow and carefully articulated. It's so unnatural compared to everyone else, or anyone else. He sounds akin to a first grader who can only use monosyllabic words. Combined with his constant hounding: "On that day, did you see a black car? What can you tell me about that black car? Do you know anyone who may know about Chinese people? Do you know where I can find any sailors? Do you know about the Mad Angels? Do you know where I can get a job? Do you know of any travel agencies?..."

Hold on. That last question I literally asked someone directly in front of the door to the travel agency. Is Ryo that fucking dense? Does he have any clue of what's going on in the world or is he so preoccupied with revenge that he's got blinders on when it comes to everything else. Given how obtuse he is when it comes to Nozomi, should it really be of any surprise? Even Eri's constant nagging, hoping to snap him out of his fog is no use - although her frustration over the matter was of an even more discerning nature. Actually, when it came to the subplot between Ryo and Nozomi, this was another part of the game where I wish the player had more input allowing for multiple outcomes. Otherwise, just leave me to my clichéd ploy of vengeance and let me get on with my life.

Then again, the way Ryo and Nozomi's subplot is handled speaks volumes in regards to the rest of the game, much like the QTE segments. The player serves no real purpose in this game. Yu Suzuki should have realized what he was really trying to accomplish here is a movie. Instead, trying to shoehorn a game into Shenmue, we're stuck with a mix between Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?, a point and click failure, and some sort of harbor simulator. Sure there's a few other mechanics thrown in there, but they're all so worthless or negligible to the overall oeuvre - what's the point?

As a final slap in the face, the game ends on such a miserable moment. I suppose I shouldn't have expected much figuring the first disc pushed me through a total of four or five inquiries; same with the second, and finishing off with the third disc's demand for manual labor. Still, I had hoped the story would have moved along more than it did. I was shocked when a pop-up informed me to insert the second disc. I barely did anything. It felt as though everything I accomplished on the first disc would have merely been the intro on some other game. Then again, you need to factor in when the game was released and all that. But no. When you condense everything on the first disc down to its core, there's literally no gameplay there, yet a third of the game is finished. Wow! If it is gameplay, than I'm correct in my assertion that the first disc is nothing but a Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? clone.

Another quick point to bring up while speaking of plot is the notebook. By the time I reached the end of the game, I couldn't believe how many blank entries, or even pages I still had. I was pretty thorough with whom I talked to at any given moment in the game, yet I somehow missed out on over half the information or clues in the game. Not that any of it was conducive to overall outcome, but I found it bewildering that I managed to skip so much material involuntarily. I remember one specific part of the game where I came out of the tattoo parlor and Nozomi was waiting there to speak with me and I somehow missed a piece of information between those two moments even though there was literally nothing else I could have done. Yet there was a very obvious gap in my notes. Was the fucking staircase going to give me a clue? Perhaps I could have gleaned other methods of travel to Hong Kong from the neighbor's hyosatsu. What the hell, man!?

I expected so much more from this game. Considering how widely acclaimed Shenmue is, I expected sooo much more. Everywhere you look, people heap boatloads of unending praise on this game, and it flat out baffles me. For instance, I don't consider Ocarina of Time a 10 out of 10 game, but I can fully understand why so many others would. But Shenmue - fuck... Shenmue is also considered a 10 out of 10 and has even topped lists as one of the best games ever made, and I just can't see it. For the life of me, I can't see it. And I'm trying my absolute best to look at it through the glasses of 1999 (well, 2000 for those of us in the west) when the game was released. Shenmue is one of the worst games I've ever played. I think the only reason I kept going, besides wanting to wipe it from my list of unfinished games, was hoping Ryo's faculties would ignite and something would become of Ryo and Nozomi's "relationship" instead of an emotionless, "Yeah." But Ryo's lack of emotion outside of his drive for vengeance is a mirror of the game as a whole - a cold, flat, soulless world with music and characters to match. Even the player can ingrain himself in this detached cinema through the mechanical QTE segments. Huzzah!

There's so much more I could go on about, but this post is far too long as it is, and...that's just sad.

Rating: 2 alluring florists out of 5*

*Actually, a 1.5 is more of a proper rating in my eyes, but then 1.5 florists would have made no sense. Consider that a free pass, Shenmue.

GEN - Shove It!: The Warehouse Game

Haiku-Review:

workplace policies
a là Loverboy's design?
work for new romance

Additional Comments:

It wasn't until my struggle through the last dozen or so rooms that I learned this game - contender for most ridiculous title of all time - is based on an early Japanese puzzle game called Sokoban. Oddly enough, I was well aware of Sokoban for a number of years and knew it to be a puzzle game of sorts but never knew that the basis of Shove It! and Sokoban were one in the same. Really puts a dent in my assumed gaming trivia knowledge. Ouch.

On an unrelated note: whereas 2014 appears to be the year of running through my backlog of uncompleted games, Shove It! is the first game that didn't come from said list.

Unfortunately, there isn't very much to speak of when it comes to Shove It!. It's a simple - in appearance - puzzle game that can become frustratingly difficult in the higher echelons of abstract warehousing. Essentially, move a set number of boxes into a marked area. The catch: you can only push one box at a time; keyword is push. No pulling allowed - which will help prevent back pain at least.

There is an amazing adherence to a proper difficulty curve throughout it's 160 levels, which I have to applaud. Most puzzle games like to throw out a few freebies as training material and then immediately turn it up to eleven; staying there for the remainder of the game. Shove It! kept a nice, linear progression. Sure, a few head-scratchers were thrown in the mix here and there, but the truly brain-warping puzzles didn't appear until the last dozen rooms or so.

Was it coincidence that I learned of Shove It's! (wait, how exactly is a possessive shown when an exclamation mark is part of the phrase in question?) heritage around the same time? Nay. Twas a search for an opening move after staring inquisitively at the TV screen for nigh on a hour or more. But I will say, out of 160 puzzles, I only had to seek an opening move on five rooms, and they were all rooms that required a ton of setup work before you could even begin to attempt putting any boxes away. Perhaps it's shameful to admit that, but turning to the evils of guidance for roughly only 3% of the game - not too shabby considering how evil some of those final setups were. And honestly, I'm sure I would have figured out that one move that brought my work to a grinding halt if I didn't have to suffer ten rooms before the next password was doled out. In the latter levels where I was averaging thirty minutes or more to solve a puzzle, ten rooms quickly ate up a good chunk of time.

Puzzles that required hefty amounts of setup work killed a lot of the fun. For me, the smaller, more difficult puzzles is where the game shines. I loved all of the small, simple setups, or at least what appeared simple upon first glance but proved diabolical in the end. Several of these rooms left me thumping my brain for a good while as well. However, the frustration within these rooms didn't irk me the way some of the larger rooms did. Rooms that contained over a couple dozen boxes; requiring you to maneuver each one through long sections of cramped, twisting corridors just ended up being tedious. The idea that I was solving a puzzle felt lost within these rooms. Instead, the manual labor connotation of the game's title became far more apparent. Less a puzzle than actual work. Bleagh!! Luckily, these rooms were few and far between.

Still, Shove It! occupies a genre of games I enjoy. I'm always up for a good brainteaser and this game delivers, although I should likely thank Imabayashi's Sokoban as Shove It! is essentially a clone. I think Shove It! brought a few original levels to the table, based on some of my research, but I wouldn't quote me on that. It did, however, offer up a worthless soundtrack. Actually, as lame as the soundtrack is, I never found it to be grating. I found myself letting the background music run its course without bother, though it would have been nice if they had at least offered up one or two alternatives to help mix it up a bit.

Nano-What?

Every now and then, you learn useless but fascinating information thanks to video games. My initial intent of this section was to admonish the protagonist's name, Stevedore. What a ridiculous name, I laughed. But then I thought to myself, it must have been chosen by design. Sure enough, my criticisms are moot as there is sound reasoning behind the name. Synonymous with dockworker or longshoreman, Stevedore would be right at home moving boxes.

Now if only the warehouses where he works weren't of such ridiculous design. I have a feeling the architect that designed the impossibilities in Dark Alliance II may have drawn up these organizational abominations as well. I feel for the guy, I really do.

Rating: 4 L.A.-centric passwords out of 5

SMS - Aztec Adventure

Haiku-Review:

are you friend or foe?
chance my wealth will jog your mind?
ah! a friend i see

Additional Comments:

Not long before a Sega Master System found its way into my collection, I briefly toyed with Aztec Adventure in emulated form whilst trying to familiarize myself with some of the console's little known library - well, little known to me at least. At the time, other than Sonic the Hedgehog and Sonic 2, I was pretty clueless as to what the system offered. I found the game interesting, to say the least, but really it was nothing more than just another bizarre title among many. Still, for the sake of Beat All Games, I put in the old college try and...failed, miserably at that. This is one challenging game, even when running it on an emulator and having tools at your disposal. Ironically, I've found games on the Master System to be far harder than games on the NES despite the common term thrown around regarding old 8-bit difficulty as "NES difficulty" or "Nintendo difficult." Bullshit! While I'll consent to the existence of NES difficulty, mostly in the form of elliptical and/or sine wave projectile patterns, Sega was the real bully on the block, turning happy-go-lucky kids into unbalanced lunatics lost in the grips of masochistic insanity. Of course, the Master System's stupid joystick slash d-pad hybrid had something to do with it as well. Between Alien Syndrome and Aztec Adventure, I have endlessly gone back and forth trying to figure out if the controller's easier to use with or without the thumbstick. I hate that stupid, plastic protrusion, yet the d-pad feels so useless, so flippant, so...dammit! Guess I'll screw the thumbstick back on.

So yea, since acquiring a Master System, I have also acquired Aztec Adventure. Actually, when a friend of mine had bought the system for me, I gave him some extra money and told him to surprise me as far as games go. Surprise! Aztec Adventure! But seriously, since acquiring the game and playing it on a real system, I've really come to love the game. It's such a quirky mess of difficulty and weirdness. Plus, I've come to understand the game so much more compared to my half-assed emulated attempt. For instance, while I'm certainly not over-exaggerating the difficulty within the game, I was finding the game agonizing for all the wrong reasons. After playing levels over and over, I came to realize the importance of items. That's one of the downfalls of emulated play. Tools are the Devil's playthings when it comes to gaming and causes lapses of basic gaming theory such as "items are important." Duh...ya think? And what do you know, after embracing the item system, the levels became so much easier. It's like there was a purpose to them all along. Or maybe I'm just being an idiot. Yea, that one - I'm just being an idiot.

Another realization I faced was having to play the game's annoyances to your advantage such as enemy respawn. I'm not too certain when "grinding" or "farming" became the agonizing norm, although many early RPG's shoveled hours of grinding down our throats, but somehow I feel these terms were nothing more than work-a-day references to the toils of certain blue-collared laborers. The idea of farming spears and money bags seems so foreign in such an early game. But alas, it's there. I'm certain this was yet another reason why Aztec Adventure got the better of me in my early attempts. Never mind using spears, you mean I need to keep a full quiver...er, bag...er.... What the heck do you keep multiple sets of spears in anyway? Who carries around eight spears? That's got to be both daunting and awkward.

In addition to grinding out kills for spears, or other necessary weaponry, by taking advantage of boarder proximity respawns, the need for hauling several large bags of money through the dense forests and burning deserts fast becomes apparent as well. Multi-scrolling a screen to consistently respawn a group of kanego - timid little frogs whom I can only suspect are poisonous based on their coloring - often proves itself a top priority upon every level start. It's always worth having a billfold full of cash available so you can bribe some of the locals. What a weird concept when you think about it. But at the same time, a very cool and innovative feature of its time, especially since you can take on two local warriors who will battle to the death to ensure your safe passage through their monster infested homelands. Although, given their initial demeanor towards my intrusion, and their general composure around the indigenous fauna, I sort of understand the need to bribe them. After all, I seem to be the real enemy to these people; not those cute little frogs. And well, those magical Nazca Lines don't seem to be interfering with the lives of anyone other than myself. So much death and destruction - and all just for my own personal greed. So it goes. Otherwise, there'd be no game. Right? Right!? But I digress.

Despite my general lack of enthusiasm towards computer controlled teammates, the concept is very cool and interesting here. Perhaps it's because it plays more of a centralized role but at the same time the game isn't dependent on the feature, or maybe because they're so easily expendable - oh Papi, how easily you concede death - that I can get behind this particular mechanic with gusto, unlike any other game ever that uses the same idea. Sure, the AI is incredibly lacking - in fact, they may be the most harebrained imbeciles I've ever come across. They are so clueless to their surroundings. Instead of relying on collision detection and general pathing, they seem to respond solely to d-pad control and therefore can easily get stuck or left behind. In a way, regarding them as computer controlled pals seems technically incorrect. The player has far more control over them than any fair share of coding would hope to dare. But no matter how stupid or worthless they may be, I can appreciate and enjoy the mechanic because it isn't being forced from the word go. In fact, you can do the whole game without the help of anyone if you so desire, and with the proper items and strategies in place is more than easy to do. They're just an added benefit - consider them bonus attacks in your favor.

There's really nothing else to speak of regarding Aztec Adventure. It's a bouncy, chipper little game with abominable difficulty that can easily be tamed once the right strats are put into play. A couple of the bosses, namely the Bat and Rock Lion, gave me a headache throughout my various attempts. While spears could easily make mincemeat of the Bat, patience proved to be a virtue. However, the Rock Lion took me ages to figure out. Eventually, I grasped his pattern, but even then it was a brutal affair. Not even the Bird Spirit of Nazca came close to matching the ire raised by the Rock Lion, although the boss rush style gauntlet of the final level embittered me enough to care less when the game was finally beaten.

The music didn't exactly impress me when I first attempted the game, but on my run for Beat All Games the soundtrack slowly grew on me. Now, I find the soundtrack playful and endearing - I love it!. At times, it makes the game feel far more lighthearted than expected, but like most early 8-bit games, it just feels right. Tunes like The Forest and The Swamp add an overly whimsical quality to an already silly game and helps embrace a wonderfully enjoyable, yet difficult, adventure.

Rating: 3 floating menorahs out of 5*

*I'm well aware Ranbaike's not a menorah, but that's all I could ever think of every time he appeared. So, sue me.