PC - Knife in the Park

Haiku-Review:

I feel the knife's soul
envelope my whole being
as I slash ninjas

Additional Comments:

Knife in the Park - what a fantastic title! I don't care what this game's on about, I throw my overwhelming support for such poetry itself. I culled this game from the darkest depths of the internet's forgotten void, where yesterday's websites, hosted files, and opinionated tirades go to die. In fact, Knife in the Park is so deeply suppressed in the archival ether that for the first time in Beat All Games' history, I had to take a screenshot of the game because even the vast ubiquity of the intrawebz failed to provide one. Like most of the unwanted fodder that floods the abyss of abandoned intellectual property, it's probable Knife in the Park's been left rotting with good cause. The likelihood that anyone will dare follow my footsteps and resurrect this five minute time killer from its digital grave is laughable. I can only chuckle at myself for doing that very thing, but then, how can you pass up something with a title like that?

In all honesty, I feel I could write a short essay on the title alone and what images manifested themselves within my mind - certainly not the quaint city park pictured above - as I contemplated learning more about this unusual suspect. I could only hope for the perfect imagery to compliment the title - the perfect gameplay. It stirred memories on a personal level regarding theme. Please, understand, I don't mean personal as in personal experience with knives and parks or any sort of twisted assemblage of the two, but in a manner of intellectual property striking mood or eerily unnerving gravitas. Consider it all TMI if you must.

But alas, much like its little brother, the incorrigible flash game, of which Knife in the Park may be better suited, my hopes were dashed by the menial task to slay my own boredom as I lazily washed my mouse back and forth over the mouse pad spilling the guts of every Tom, Dick, and Harry out to assassinate our immobile hero. That's not to say it's bad. It's...interesting. I'll give it that. But it's interesting for about two minutes and then it's time to move onto something else - again, much like 99% of the flash-based gaming world. However, at times, these games serve their purpose as does Knife in the Park. Got five minutes to kill while waiting for that troublesome download to finish; only three minutes to Wapner? Double click that pesky executable and slay some nettlesome ninjas with your sentient kitchen knife while you wait. Why the hell not?

What other options do I have? Stare blankly at the screen counting the seconds? I could always tackle Minesweeper for the nth time. Eh...tough call as they both exude about the same amount of quickly fading fun and excitement. Scratch that! Knife in the Park is a welcome alternative. In some respects, it reminds me of the old Adult Swim flash game, Five Minutes to Kill Yourself - just enough charm to hold your attention long enough to fully appreciate the game, which thankfully is quick and to the point. And from most games of this caliber, that's all I ask. So in all fairness, Knife in the Park succeeded.

But that doesn't mean it can just skate on by without the usual wag of the finger. There are issues. Well, it's hard to bolster such claims since there's so little to actually criticize, but there is one particular fault that's hard to overlook. Without lambasting the graphics in anyway, as I feel it would be unfair to a point, I have to question some of the aesthetic decisions concerning the blood splatters. After butchering a couple dozen ninja foes, the streets, the park, even the buildings become so caked in a gooey murder death scene that it begins to become difficult to pick out the latest wave of enemies. If only the splatters remained true to cliché gaming bloody goodness - that is splotches of red and only red instead of incorporating the ninja's blue clothing. Do those pixels of blue represent the living or the dead? Oh shit! They belonged to my accursed foes! I'm dead, and my honor, disgraced. The only thing left is ritual suicide. Or better yet; another common mechanic found across many games, why can't the blood function on a timer and disappear over time? Ah...who am I kidding? Should I really have expected polish from an archaic little time killer crafted a decade ago in Game Maker? What foolish expectations I hold.

Still, with a few improvements, Knife in the Park could have been far more tantalizing. And I'm talking simple improvements. For starters, let me see my score as I play instead of waiting around for a tragic end. Secondly, some sort of tier or level functionality would have done the game wonders as opposed to an incessant will to slaughter our lone hero in broken waves of ninja warriors - which seemed very random in its implementation. Some times only one or two ninjas would trickle out from the shadows and then I'd be left waiting for an eternity for the next wave of one or two lackeys. Other times, a mass barrage would pummel me from all directions, but it was never properly scaled over time. My highest scoring game, which led me to calling the game complete as it seems the game is endless, dragged on mercilessly as only a few stragglers came out to face the music at a time.

Ah, well. The game succeeded in its mission at least in that its functional and pulled me out of my rut for a good five or ten minutes. That's more than most flash games can manage, and even small victories like that account for something...I suppose. Maybe?

Rating: 2 audiovideo stores out of 5*

*Be aware, nearly 80% of that rating is thanks to the title. Ha!

SNES - F-Zero

Haiku-Review:

phenomenal speeds
high above the world's surface-
all will end in death!

Additional Comments:

It's taken a long time to finally put the beat down on F-Zero, but at long last it is done. And by long time, I literally mean a long time as F-Zero was, if memory serves, one of the earliest games enlisted for Beat All Games. I quickly pushed through Beginner and Standard and then just hit a wall on Expert's Queen League - damn those White Land menaces. King League only made matters worse and then...Master mode. Holy freakin' cow!! This shit is for real!

Before I go any further, I graciously admit to tool reliance on Master. No shame here, as I'd fear to even shake the hands of those who have the otherworldly gaming skills required to defeat Master. Now, it's possible I backed myself in a corner by relying on the wrong machine. I'm sorry but for the entirety of F-Zero's lifespan - take note, I originally got the game when it came out all those years ago in the bygone age of 1991; thank you, xmas - I have loathed Samurai Goroh and his pig of an anti-gravity racer. I'm aware it's the best car of the four. I'm just as aware of that today as I was some twenty years ago. And frankly, I don't care. Am I suffering Master needlessly because of my stubbornness? Perhaps, but again, I don't give a damn.

Despite battling F-Zero for what seems an eternity, I sadly have very little to say. Is that a bad thing? Not necessarily since I consider F-Zero one of the best SNES game there is, one of the best arcade racers ever, and a damn near perfect game period; even if the upper echelon difficulty would prove the death of me long before I ever manage it toolless. There's little, if anything, to complain about. Playing it again after so many years away from the game, and having filled that void with a mountain of other racing titles, I will admit that I'm disheartened there's no rear view mirror. Seriously, that's likely my biggest and only honest to god complaint that isn't tainted by my own voluntary ineptitude. But that's a product of gaming advancement and becoming spoiled by the norm more than anything. I recall as a kid never feeling frustration because I couldn't properly check my rears. The check warning was more than enough to let me know where my arch rival loomed. Funny how little things like that can change with time. Still, so many times I attempted to press down, or X, or something for a quick glance behind. Oops! Follow that up with a quick slap to the head, you foolhardy idiot. It may no longer be 1991-'92, but F-Zero says "Bah!" to your 2014.

Believe it or not, my fondest memories of F-Zero was playing the game not as a hardcore arcade racer but as a time-killing playground adventure. It became my go to game whenever boredom struck, much like Grand Theft Auto III in later years. Mindless romps, I call these. I'd spend hours racing in the wrong direction, allowing excessive headstarts - how long could I sit on the start line before I had to run balls out to ensure I made the cut each lap - or simply trolling the other racers, punting whoever I could into the wild blue yonder when and if the anti-gravity system allowed. This left little concern for fastest laps or best overall race times or the fact that I never unlocked Master mode. Heck, whether or not I even knew there was a Master mode is beyond memory. During my progression for Beat All Games, I learned about Master mode and fell to my knees and cried. Expert is enough. I'm sorry, but it's enough. The desire to torture gamers with such rash difficulty is one of several reasons why I disliked F-Zero GX. There a time and place for ungodly difficulty and I'm of the opinion that F-Zero's Master mode is nothing more than a ridiculous ass hat laughing in my face.

But there's so much Nintendo did right with this game - namely everything else. The tracks are cleverly designed and a joy to race. Okay, maybe Death Wind II and Fire Field leave much to be desired, but for the most part even the most horrendous corners on many of the other tracks can be accepted with open arms. And the music...(enter zombie-like drooling here). Yet another soundtrack that is golden from beginning to end. Tracks like Red Canyon, Port Town, Finish, and my personal favorite: Silence, the game's worth fighting through for the aural explosion alone. It's soundtracks like this that provide sound reasoning behind arguments concerning the pinnacle of video game music existing in the earlier generations. Of course, I could argue both for and against the common perception, but I just can't argue F-Zero's monumental listening experience.

Overall, the game is a pure gem demanding any self-titled gamer's attention. I've only my own bullheadedness to blame - most likely - for attempting Master sans Goroh and come out crying, but stubbornness will always, and sadly, prevail. For those interested, my car of choice has always been Pico and the Wild Goose. Yea, I know next to the Blue Falcon, it's probably the worst choice out there so my contempt for the game's unrivaled difficulty is essentially baseless, but like many others out there, sometimes you just find something that works for you and stick by it...for damn near eternity. In Super Mario Bros. 2, I will always and only ever use Mario. In Super Mario Kart, I will forever swear by Koopa Troopa's unmatched cornering physics, and in F-Zero, well...Pico is my pilot of choice. I remember enjoying Dr. Stuart's Golden Fox as well in my youth, but frankly, it's a risk - its fragility far outweighing anything it can bring to the table. The Blue Falcon? Meh... And I've already made my peace with the Fire Stingray. Maybe peace isn't the best way to put it, but I shall consider it as such and as far as I'm concerned, the debate's no longer in the cards. Besides, I'm off track. Point is, F-Zero is arcade racing at its finest.

Nano-Win:

Over the past decade, it's saddened me that manuals have more or less gone the way of the dodo. Quickly thumbing through my copy of the manual as I type this post up, I'm reminded of one of the many reasons why manuals were so great and such an interesting and integral part to the whole "game experience." F-Zero's manual has a short comic that presents a sort of build up - pre-race ceremonies if you will - to the climactic role that the actual gameplay delivers. Nowadays, we get a single sheet of paper in which were lucky if it even has anything remotely game related. Ah, nostalgia.... Why are you so fondly remembered? F-Zero has the answer in every conceivable manner.

Rating: 5 magnetic field block coats out of 5*

*Good grief. That's a mouthful for what's essentially an ice patch.

GBA - Hello Kitty: Happy Party Pals

Haiku-Review:

cakes, shopping, dress up:
keys to a perfect party;
also - recycling?

Additional Comments:

A momentous occasion is upon us! With Hello Kitty turning 40 on November 1st, it seems only proper to prattle on about some childish filler staring the now certifiable cougar. Are you fucking kidding me!?

Er, confession time. My playing and beating such a ridiculous game has absolutely nothing to do with Miss Kitty White's coincidentally landmark birthday. Instead, my desire to play Happy Party Pals - a Hello Kitty title picked completely at random mind you - was first kicked about as a potential Beat All Games addition as a joke after an amusing name drop in one of Sven's old posts - Enslaved if I'm not mistaken. Hmm, Sven. Whatever happened to him? Anyway, he said something along the lines of Enslaved possibly not garnering the attention it should have which in turn may have affected numerous critical reviews negatively due to various other big hitters that came out at the same time sopping up all the acclaim. One particular title, which he facetiously slipped into the vast array of blockbusters, was Hello Kitty Party. Don't know anything about the game; don't care to, but I couldn't resist plugging the game's potential laurels yet further. And the more I thought about how ridiculous a hypothesis that Hello Kitty Party may have helped to nudge Enslaved from critics' top picks, the more a brilliantly foolish scheme began to blossom within my head.

From a fledgling little seed, I could only see pure lunacy in attempting such a game in the flesh as opposed to just making a hollow claim. Well, lunacy along with absolute boredom, embarrassment, and quite possibly the butt of all well-deserved heckling. Sounds worthy of the risk just to take a stupid, meaningless quip to the next level. Only, we're talking Hello Kitty and there was no way I could bring myself to actually purchase this drivel. Next best option, and a free one at that - time to comb various ROM dumps to see what I can dig up. And voilà: Hello Kitty: Happy Party Pals for the Game Boy Advance. Ugh. Am I really going to play this thing?

I'm willing to play just about any game. Sometimes, the crappier the game, the more I enjoy it. I've never been big for AAA titles, at least in the last decade. Doesn't mean I don't play them - I do. They're just usually not my first port of call. Instead, I tend to navigate towards neglected games or those that have been deemed unworthy by most, if not all, of the celebrated reviewers out there. I love perusing YouTube, forums, or various other sites looking for those games. There's just something about the uncelebrated that cries out, "Play me! They may not understand, but you'll understand." Often times, they were right. These games are given the cold shoulder for good reason. But then, I've come across some real gems this way. Could Happy Party Pals turn out to be one of those rare gems?

No. It's not a gem - not even close. Should that be any surprise though? Not at all. But believe it or not, it's not exactly a bottom feeder either. Sure, I dragged my feet for months as I invited Kitty's family and friends to a plethora of parties handing out gifts, making small talk, and spinning the latest tune on my little kitty-shaped boombox. This game is so mundane, so repetitious, so...pointless. I imagine Happy Party Pals to me is a horrifically watered down version of the barest essentials of social interaction that might be found on something like the Sims - though it's only a guess as I've never played a Sims title. Chat with Kitty's schoolyard chums, talk a stroll through the park or out along the beach, or take in the local arcade or some modest shopping. Can never have enough party balloons, I suppose.

The core of the game becomes a chore, especially once you finish the primary party objectives and move onto the bonus parties where the goal is to achieve 100% on what I assume is three different settings to obtain all of the bonus items. I can only assume this as I had to complete bonus parties inviting six guests, seven guests, and eight guests before I got my hands on what I believe is all the bonus items on offer. With little to no information floating around the web, I had to make a judgement call that the game contained eight bonus items. Fortunately, I at least found a site that verified the eight items I unlocked and saw no mention of any more. In my book, that's enough to consider the game complete. And given the tedious, unwavering nature of the game - hallelujah!

What's curious about Happy Party Pals' patterned gameplay however is that while it's apparent from the start that there's not much variety in terms of accomplishing the required goals - disregarding mini-games and Kitty's bountiful haul of presents to be - you're at least having to learn the ropes when it comes to Kitty's friends' likes and dislikes. For the first few parties, unless you're prepared to lug around several metric tons worth of treats, party favors, and gifts - from pretzels to seaweed salad, science books to golf balls, or even trampled aluminum cans - oh wait, I was meant to toss those in the nearest litter bin - the likelihood of scoring a perfect party is nil to none. Therefore, it's time to initiate conversation around town and learn about the perfect gift or invest in numerous rounds of memory; hoping the matched pairs will give some insight into what will turn Kitty into the hostess with the mostest. You can't always be the town darling serving Kitty cakes in the playroom while listening to down tempo oldies.

It wasn't until I finished my primary objectives and reached the bonus parties that I realized how painfully dull this game really is. Forget talking to anyone, recycling the town's garbage, memorizing preferred gifts, or really any aspect of the game. Other than all the required decorations, there's only one key item Kitty needs to obtain to throw a perfect party - the guitar. And best of all, we need to venture no further than the party store; an already required errand. Well, that's not entirely true because for some unknown reason, the party store doesn't carry the tablecloth. Instead, Kitty will have to bounce back and forth between the park and town hoping the goddamn tablecloth will magically spawn. Therefore, I present Happy Party Pals in six easy steps:

• Step 1: Send invitations - tedious part the first.
• Step 2: Obtain balloons, banner, and enough guitars equal to the number of invited guests by playing several rounds of Shop Hop - tedious part the second.
• Step 3: Force spawn the tablecloth in order to collect the last required decoration - tedious part the third.
• Step 4: Start the party and immediately chat everyone up to boost their happiness as high as possible. Thankfully, this is the least tedious portion of the run.
• Step 5: However, it's time to follow that with the most monotonous, laborious bullshit in the game. Play the stupid Guitar Hero imitation mini-game for each guest. Be sure to pop one of the victory discs into the boombox before time runs out to ensure total party immersion. Even grandpa will get down to that latest techno record. Who knew?
• Step 6: Congratulations!!! 100% party!!!

Fuck that stupid Guitar Hero game. It pretty much guarantees you a 50% happiness boost, but my god is it ever boring. If the mini-game at least offered a slight challenge or, you know, had a sense of syncopation between the song's rhythm and the required button presses. Worst of all, the scoring makes no fucking sense whatsoever. After two minutes of accurate taps, I misjudge the timing and suddenly I'm sitting at 71%? The math just doesn't add up. Considering I played this stupid music game at least a couple dozen times, I was never able to make heads or tails of the blatantly broken scoring system. Whatever. Doesn't matter. Thankfully, the accompanying music is halfway decent. Short, bouncy, and tolerable enough to listen to over and over, especially the techno tune which reminded me of something from an old Commodore 64 or Amiga game.

All that being said, I reiterate my original stand that Happy Party Pals is not a terrible game. There is some merit in there. However, it's all to be found in the mini-games. The core game is just...so...pointless. Even from the perspective of a pre-teen girl, I'd have a hard time imagining this game to be truly enjoyable on any level. But then, I found meager satisfaction in Gift Grab - a simple color match mini-game that feels like a mix between Puyo Pop and Candy Crush Saga. Additionally, I found some enjoyment in Bouncing Balloons, a simple Bust a Move style clone. Of course, all of the mini-games were clones or imitations in the simplest form and if I truly wanted to enjoy these games, then I'd just play the original games. However, these mini-games added a much needed boost of actual gameplay into a game that otherwise makes little coherent sense of the words "game" or "play."

But I have to give Happy Party Pals kudos for managing to keep my attention span long enough to finish the game; even if it was done in intermittent spurts over several months. Still, that's better than some honest to god games have managed to do - games like Morrowind that have been sitting on my unfinished list for what seems like years now. But then, maybe I just wanted to wipe anything Hello Kitty related from my list, ashamed for introducing it to my ledger of worthy titles to begin with. What ever was I thinking?

Truth be told, I'm sure I could run down a laundry list of issues with Happy Party Pals. But why bother? Outside of gamers with an unquenchable curiosity for the ludicrously stupid, like myself, I doubt anyone would ever willingly pick this game up and say to themselves, "Now here's a game worth playing." Only other sensible scenario would perhaps be some Hello Kitty zealot  in which case it doesn't matter what I think. Consider it fanboyism at its purest just like those with Zelda, Sonic, or any other top franchise that just can't do any wrong. In case you're wondering, they can. Perhaps if I had a further hankering for Hello Kitty entertainment, I'd find that Happy Party Pals totally delivered. I doubt it, but I understand what the game was attempting and I can envision the idea working quite well. Otherwise, I'm sorry Kitty, but even your darling, kawaii nature can't save you here.

Nano-Rant:

Can someone please explain why Kitty's subject to sanitation duty? To what end does garbage collection have anything to do with anything? I think there's far better ways to teach children that littering is frowned upon in the real world than by shoehorning some pointless mechanic into a video game.

But it makes the townspeople sad and Kitty's out to lift everyone's spirits.

No. Fuck all that. If roadside trash is such a weight on everyone's mind to the point that they walk around in a depressed stupor lest Kitty enliven their disposition through a bevy of gifts there's something seriously wrong. Kitty's generosity is being markedly abused as well as her eagerness to please by being the only one willing to lend a hand in community cleanup. She's just a fucking child, people! Clean up your own goddamn messes! No, wait. Better yet, quit cluttering the town with your filthy refuse and make use of the proper receptacle yourself. Quit relying on Kitty's good will to do everything for you. And you dare call her out on throwing a mediocre party? For shame, on all of you.

Maybe next time, Kitty should hock up a few hairballs and pass those out as gifts, you bunch of ungrateful sods.

Rating: 2 Stephen Hawking factoids out of 5