GEN - Ecco the Dolphin

Haiku-Review:

joyful in Home Bay
until a twister disrupts;
hate-filled ocean preys

Additional Comments:

Ecco the Dolphin may be the first game to brandish the award of being both equally loved and hated all at the same time. I have a sneaky suspicion I'm not alone on that sentiment either. Across the internet, people appear to both love and hate this game, but what's interesting is the enduring passion breathed into each polar opposite. Much like myself, people don't appear to casually love/hate Ecco, but do so with a beaming heart or a furious belly. How can this be?

For me, the tale goes back a number of years to that magical time known as the 90s. One year, while visiting family, I got to spend a couple days playing a Genesis where I played a couple games rather unfamiliar to me. One was some helicopter game which for the life of me I have no recollection of its name, but I recall enjoying it. My suspicions over the past few years is Urban Strike, but I'm not too certain. Anyway, the other game was Ecco: The Tides of Time. Tides of Time blew my mind. Everything about it was unlike anything I had ever played before and I relished every moment of it.

Skip forward to the early 2000s when I started my first round of game collecting. Immediately, Ecco: Tides of Time was named a must have as was its predecessor, Ecco the Dolphin. Logic dictated if Tides of Time was the brilliant masterpiece I remembered it being, the original must have at least been blessed with obvious merit. It should be noted that this is terrible logic, if my exercise in Beat All Games has taught me anything, but alas, I was naïve then.

After getting my hands on Ecco the Dolphin, I popped it in my Genesis, fought my way valiantly through all of two levels and was left sucking my thumb in the corner of the room scarred from such vicious and perplexing difficulty. I'm not even joking - two levels, and that includes Home Bay which is essentially a free lesson in swimming techniques while learning some very basic background. That means I struggled through a single level where after I collapsed in total consternation. But...but against all instinct based on this horrific turn of events, I absolutely loved the game. As such, I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and returned for more...only to throw furious F-bombs at the torrid insanity passed off as challenge.

And so, over the years, my love for the game has been such that I'll go out of my way to pick up any of the various ports of the game because the game is simply genius. However, my hatred has been such that after my early attempts, I shelved the game; never to return again. Fuck that game! It's fucking ridiculous!

Eventually, I returned to Ecco, as it's swan song of beauty and grace couldn't keep me away forever. At some point, when most of my collection resided in boxes, I made a feeble attempt on an emulator. Recollections of yore soon triggered and I carried on to some other title. History repeats, it seems, until now. With a daunting pledge of victory, I attempted to tackle Ecco the Dolphin for what would hopefully be the final time, in regards to seeing it through to the end. This was two, maybe three years ago and once again I hit that brick wall of unforgiving difficulty. Since then, Ecco has sat on the back burner where I maybe knocked out one or two levels per years. Finally, in the past recent weeks, I decided enough is enough and pounded out the rest of the game. Holy mother of god! This game is intense. But it's not all intense.

One of the strangest quirks about Ecco the Dolphin is the irrational difficulty curve throughout the course of the game. It's all over the place which really unbalances the overall feel. Right from the beginning the game is relentless but may be considered acceptable to a degree - though I believe that degree to be the thinnest of margins. Eventually you face the ice levels where the difficulty suddenly ramps, or rather it shoots straight up like a rocket. The moving ice blocks in Hard Water has got to be some of the cheapest difficulty I've ever come across in a video game. In fact, that's not difficulty, that's just the developer being a total dick. Then suddenly, the game relaxes into some sort of Zen state. Despite some of the crazy ass jumps demanding Ecco to manage some incredible record-breaking height, the Atlantis stages as well as the preceding island stages, are surprisingly a joy to play. The difficulty for once seemed appropriate allowing a fair chance for proper exploration and general enjoyment of Ecco's abilities. But don't be fooled by the sudden charity because once Ecco travels back in time, all bets are off. I'm only going to say it once - fuck the Jurassic stages. They are a gamer's nightmare, especially Trilobite Circle, but especially Dark Water. Wow! That's all I can say. I'd rather fail endlessly at F-Zero's Master mode or continue to be self-delusional that any of the various Touhous are actually fun north of Normal.

All that being said, let it be known that I am a total idiot - a senseless nitwit if you will and likely have no reason to chastise the game's difficulty as harshly as I have. Although, it can still stand for a proper thrashing nonetheless. Only after beating the game and subsequently doing some mild research on it, I learned Ecco obtains a special sonic attack after rescuing three dolphins. Whether it was told through dialogue or not I somehow completely missed what was obviously a very helpful and necessary upgrade. I even read through the manual a few weeks back before I decided to make my final push but don't recall seeing anything along those lines, and just to make sure I didn't voluntarily omit some possible passage regarding said power-up, I revisited the manual again after completing the game. There's a brief italicized statement mentioning abilities after rescuing three lost pod members, but it's vagueness would never lead me to believe Ecco's subject to a sudden sonar death ray. That's a serious fucking game changer if that's the case and considering the controls are a bit wacky to use it, I'd think something more than an ambiguous disclaimer would be warranted. But I only have my own stupidity to blame I suppose - if, and only if, the lost dolphins laid everything out on the table. Otherwise, just another log to throw on the developer's fire of asinine bullshit.

It can be said, there may be enough wiggle room to argue the true difficulty of the game. Though, even with some debilitating echo location talent, I still imagine the game to be akin to nails on a chalkboard - harsh, disorienting, and enough to make you run screaming into the night. But honestly, for sake of argument, it's all moot for there is no measure of upgrades that can even minutely minimize the arduous challenge and flippant stupidity of Welcome to the Machine. With perhaps the exception of every level following Wookie Hole in Battletoads, Welcome to the Machine has to be one of the most unfairly designed atrocities to ever grace the video game universe. Using a mechanic most familiar to platformers and shmups, Welcome to the Machine, as well as the preceding level, The Tube, uses autoscroll. Ah, the dreaded autoscroll. Truth be told, I don't mind autoscroll. In platformers, it's a unique device that can easily instill intense anxiety into the gamer...when done right. When slapped on as an afterthought or poorly executed, however, than yes, autoscroll is the bane of quality design.

As far as The Tube is concerned, the attached autoscrolling feels natural, even if there are a dozen deadly barriers forcing you to weave your way through using the power of memorization because, yes, you will die. But compared to the ridiculous weaving of Battletoads' Turbo Tunnel, The Tube is a walk in the park. However, Welcome to the Machine quickly reminds you why autoscrolling is so universally panned. Between the clunky level design and the seemingly indecisive scrolling, it is so easy to get trapped multiple times. Just like The Tube's need for quick memorization skills, Welcome to the Machine demands incredible retention for approximately six minutes of disoriented scrolling hell. Most occasions, it's easy to guess where the screen will scroll next - which shifts in one of the eight cardinal directions roughly every 2-8 seconds - but every so often the level architecture can easily lead you astray. For these instances, I usually fell victim to the unfortunate ruse believing the next shift would go in X direction, based on the lay of the land, only to find my forecasting an oracle of doom. By the time I could react to the actual shift, it was too little too late and I found myself crushed to death. Mental note: remember the scroll shifts to the left at that point. Wait. Where was that again? After several dozen shifts, am I really going to remember that? Fuck me. And for anyone mental enough to play through this insanity, be sure you kill the Vortex Queen on your first attempt or else you'll get to enjoy that marvelous mechanized mayhem all over again. Spoiler alert: you won't because it's very likely she'll suck you into her voracious mouth at least once from whence there is no escape. Although, once you get the hang of her, she's not that bad. Unfortunately, you have to continually parade through six minutes of torture just to face her again. At least you essentially have unlimited health for the Vortex's nefarious machine, so...yeah!

I've read where Ed Annunziata, the game's developer, stated that he purposefully made the game hard to deter children from beating it in a single weekend. That's all fine and good, but there's a fine line between challenging and outright unfair, and at times, Ecco the Dolphin struts over that line for no good reason. I thoroughly enjoyed the challenges, when they were proper challenges. However, given some of the design choices in the last few levels, notably Dark Water and Welcome to the Machine, I fail to see the challenge there. I just see poorly executed mechanics and fiendishly evil level design. It's the type of design in which I fail to see anyone experience anything other than rage and frustration. Well, congratulations, Ed. I didn't beat it in a single weekend. It took me a minimum of two years - granted most of that time it was shelved because of my own personal frustrations. If there's a lesson to be learned, it's that a good challenge can be highly entertaining, but frustration is never entertaining, and if I'm not mistaken, the general consensus is that a video game's primary value is that of entertainment. Sadly, Ecco the Dolphin doesn't appear to entirely grasp that notion. Yet still, I inexplicably love the game. Maybe not as much as I once did, but there's still a considerable fondness. Funny, that.

If it's not for the adoration of Ecco himself and his playful antics as he leaps out of the sea in amazing aerial somersaults, or the mystical setting of the ocean depths, the strangely enticing story of sudden vanishment, or the general eeriness of time-travel supplemented by the sunken mysteries of Atlantis, then it must be the music that makes me love this game. With that raw Genesis crunch and growl, the music helps push the overall ominous mood of loneliness to the forefront. With pieces like Opening Theme, Medusa Bay, and Ice Zone, you can't help but empathize with Ecco's sudden isolation from the world he once knew; left with only memories from before the Vortex came; of simpler, happier times. Only, it's funny how the Vortex is really the least of Ecco's worries. The sea is a far more dangerous place.

Nano-Rant:

The least of Ecco's worries, that is, except for the Asterite. What a ridiculous boss. No, ridiculous is too benevolent of a word for that twisted double helix of pain and demoralizing confusion. Not counting all the actual time spent traversing Dark Water's cretinous design, I probably spent upwards of an hour on the Asterite alone trying to figure out what the hell to do. Sadly, this led to death after death after death. Eventually, I turned to GameFAQs, and honestly, I only did so because I thought I was overlooking something in the level itself - a glyph perhaps - and perhaps this DNA replicant was merely "broken" until proposed trigger was flipped. My only argument against that theory was that the final barrier glyph closes once you pass it effectively trapping Ecco which is poor game design. However, if I knew the insanity expected in Welcome to the Machine, I wouldn't put it past the developers to create such an evil trap. Turns out I just completely misunderstood how the Asterite functioned. I don't remember if the present (future?) Asterite told me how to defeat his past self - again, something I likely missed - but I doubt I would have ever figured it out. I have a feeling if I did defeat it without looking up the solution, I would have done so without knowing how exactly I managed it. And in my opinion, that's poor execution on the developers part. But again, I likely skipped over a message, and if that's the case, I have no one to blame except myself.

Rating: 3 dangerous denizens of the sea out of 5*

I had a really hard time rating this game due to my love/hate relationship with it. As such, a fairly balanced score seems best, but perhaps tipped in a favorable light only because my love for the game still ever so slightly trumps the wicked cruelty found within.

N64 - Paper Mario

Haiku-Review:

'shrooms are so old hat,
the key is exotic fruits
and rave recipes

Additional Comments:

Long before Banjo-Kazooie proved to me that Nintendo's gawky teenager wasn't the heinous atrocity I once thought there existed a game that likely would have reversed my whole perception of the Nintendo 64 far earlier if only I had a chance to play it. Oddly enough, it took the magic of the GameCube to show me this truth. But not with The Legend Of Zelda Collection, despite owning it and enjoying Ocarina of Time, but with another title - a title that blew me away: Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door. I love this game and as a result had a strong urge to play its predecessor. Whatever my grumbles concerning the system or its games, based on my experience with TTYD, I imagined Paper Mario to be free of any N64 related idiocy. Unfortunately, years passed before Paper Mario ever found its way into my collection. Doesn't make for a telling story, but it makes for interesting speculation. Could Paper Mario have been my N64 knight in shining armor? Perhaps, but I'm perfectly comfortable singing the praises of Banjo-Kazooie instead. Alas! Too little, too late....

Nevertheless, Paper Mario would still have its chance to sing its hymns of beauty. That is if I remember that I own the game, which I do, but somehow forgot. While looking through my N64 carts for a game to play, I was rather surprised to find Paper Mario tucked in there. When did I buy this, I thought. Whatever. Obvious choice is obvious - Paper Mario to the console.

It's been a number of years since I played Thousand-Year door, so while the premise of the Paper universe was known, much of the detail had eroded with time. As I said, I loved Thousand-Year door and enjoyed its more adventurous, action-based elements over the more straightforward RPG quirks of the series' founding father, Super Mario RPG. Although from an RPG perspective, Paper Mario is severely lacking. But that's okay, because although the series can be considered SMRPG's spiritual successor, the series is also vastly different. It got rid of a lot of the stuff that bothered me in regards to the Square approach, but maintained just the right amount of innovations originally conceived at the same time.

In many respects, I'd question calling Paper Mario an RPG. Yes, it has turn-based fighting, experience, perks in the form of badges, and a leveling system, but it almost seems as though these elements are used as a compliment to what appears to be an action/adventure game at heart. However, of the various RPG elements being thrown about, turn-based fighting is a hard one to get away from. This is the one mechanic that really throws the game over the tipping point for me since the game falls into the rut of horrendously slow gameplay found in a large number of RPGs. That's not to say it's bad, but I do think it can use some tweaking. Turn-based fighting by default is slow. I use to despise turn-based fighting but over the years grew to...embrace it. I certainly won't endorse it, but I've come to accept it as a necessary evil within RPGs. Of course, games like Chrono Trigger brilliantly improved the turn-based system by adding some real time counters to help speed battles along. I don't find this to be a paramount fix for all RPGs. In fact, games like Final Fantasy, 7th Saga, or Vay are perfectly fine as they are. Even Super Mario RPG works with a true turn-based system. But Paper Mario....

I understand, or at least imagine I understand, why Paper Mario uses a true turn-based system. On the whole, Paper Mario is a relatively simple game. A true turn-based system fits the simplicity without unnecessarily mucking about with any real time counters and allows the player total freedom in setting battle strategies. The downside is that the battles play out ridiculously slow. To help add to the sluggish feeling, there's all sorts of unique actions that can be played out to help add a boost to your delivered damage. Some might argue that this helps break the monotony of turn-based fighting, but I find that it further drags down an already slow mechanic. For the most part, I like the micro-game style action system used to garner bonuses, but some of them are simply tedious or far too time consuming in the grand scheme of things. Yes, it's only an extra two, three, four seconds, but after a couple hundred battles, those few extra seconds become nothing but ceaseless aggravation. Maybe if the game used more of a Chrono Trigger style battle system the time sapping wouldn't be anywhere near as evident. As it stands though, it's layers upon layers of needless mechanics specifically tooled to pad the game out as far as the clock is concerned. As such, the game begins to wear out its welcome. This felt especially true in Shy Guy's Toy Box and Flower Fields.

Shy Guy's Toy Box is likely my least favorite area in the game only because it gave me this nauseating sensation of eternal gameplay. It felt as though very little headway was being made, to the point where boredom began to set in and I had to set the game aside for a couple of weeks. Up until that point, despite minor grievances over the relative slowness of the game, I couldn't imagine Paper Mario would develop enough of an issue causing me to shelve it for a while. Then again, I never did finish Thousand-Year Door and if I recall, it was due to a relatively similar situation. Hmm, worrying signs for the Paper franchise are suddenly making their presence known. As the years passed, I always wondered why I put Thousand-Year Door down despite loving it. Who knew the real answer would show itself year's later?

Another element that really slows the pace of the game to a crawl is the various side quests, be it collecting Star Pieces or Badges, taking the reins of the Pony...er, Koopa Express, or playing errand boy to Tayce T.'s fantabulous recipes, or so she claims. For being a so-called master chef, she sure doled out a number of embarrassing mistakes. Also, how does Tayce T. manage to make a cake with a single ingredient, yet Peach needs a proper list of ingredients? No wonder she's cooking up so many critical failures. She's attempting to shortcut everything. Peach, on the other hand, even for the gluttonous Gourmet Guy who's working for the other team, managed to bake her cake with a touch of princessey love. But I digress. Slowness is the topic and there's so much additional garbage really hampering Mario's progress.

Is it right to harp on optional side quests though? Forget that they're optional, side quests, especially those revolving around collectibles, have become the norm in video games - not just in RPG's but in all games. So how can I warrant crying over what's essentially become a gaming institution? Under the right circumstances, I enjoy needless deviations from the main quest. Anything to stretch out the game, as long as there's an inherent value to it, I'm all in. However, most games insert optional diversions along the route of progression. Paper Mario throws caution to the wind and insists on improperly padding the game by having Mario traipse all around the diorama-like Mushroom Kingdom in search for bullshit.

There's no real need to collect the Star Pieces unless your looking to obtain all the badges on offer from Merlow, most of which are useless thus making the whole cross-country treasure hunt counterproductive. Badge hunting, well, there is purpose to the badges. However, only a fraction of them possess any real merit. Just find what you need and move on. Only, for those gamers like me, it's easier said than done because that looming 100% gratification is constantly slapping the back of our heads saying, "Hey, jackass! You missed a cleverly hidden Star Piece in Flower Fields." And so it is, prepare for heavy backtracking and consistent criss-crossing of the world. Oh! Did I forget to mention that coins are somehow at a premium in this game? What's that about? A Mario game where coins are not exactly easy to come by? When it came time to collecting the last few badges from Rowf, I had to make a two hour detour under Mario's new guise, Panhandlin' Pete.

But the true culprit of tedium is Tayce T. and her stupid recipe scavenger hunt. It's not so much the recipes, the lack of knowledge when it comes to acceptable ingredient mixtures, or the constant globetrotting for ingredients...oh wait. It's totally about the constant globetrotting. Why? Because Paper Mario, much like its predecessor, Super Mario RPG, insists on using one of the dumbest features of all: an incredibly limited inventory. For completion's sake, I decided to knock out all the recipes after completing Shiver Mountain. Surprise, surprise, I had to jump on GameFAQs as there was no way I was going to blindly guess 50 recipes. With guide in hand and off to the market to dump my inventory I spent nearly four hours straight doing nothing but recipe questing. That's fucking stupid! I'm sorry, but that's completely ridiculous. The amount of time spent jumping into Shy Guy's Toy Box just to collect a hearty helping of cake mix was enough to make me want to blow my brains out.

If there was more incentive to perform some of these optional tasks or the game made a attempt to have some of the side quests properly parallel the main quest so that everything can progress at a relatively steady rate, I wouldn't mind. Yes, the Star Pieces and Badges sort of manage that, but I still felt like I was performing a lot of needless backtracking.

Despite such egregious mechanics and fully expecting the player to enjoy the view within Toad Town's sewer system for the umpteenth time, Paper Mario is a great game, It kept my attention full stop, except for the slight Toy Box debacle mentioned earlier, and I relished it to the very end. Sure there's other nitpicky bits here and there but most everything else can be overlooked for the greater good. Granted, I don't find the game to be on par with Thousand-Year Door, even with an uncanny amount of similarities between the two, but I can chalk that up to Alex Kidd syndrome all over again.

As a Paper Mario game, there's a certain beauty and charm lacking in other Mario titles. Be it Peach's hyperbolic daintiness, Bowser's likeness to Moose's brawn-but-no-brains archetype, or Luigi playing the role of the self-pitied runt...wait, I don't care for Luigi's newly found idiosyncrasies whatsoever. Sure, Luigi's played second fiddle to his brother since he was first introduced, but he's been stomping Goombas and aiding Mario on his numerous quests ever since, and now, suddenly, he's too weak and incapable? Understand, my gripe has nothing to do with "wanting a two-player mode" as that would be completely absurd, but his character direction in this game is disparaging to say the least. Thankfully, they sent him on a "quest" in Thousand-Year Door, though I can only imagine out of guilt for how they disrespected him here.

Sheesh... It's difficult to sing my praises when everything somehow relates to some sort of faux pas in the game. Surprised I haven't brought up the uselessness of the Li'l Oinks, the stupid luck-based Jump Attack found within The Playroom, or Koopa Koot's fetch quests of everlasting sadness. But thankfully, they're even more tangential to the main story than some of the previously mentioned optional garbage, so...whatever.

To get back on point, and it may not sound like it, Paper Mario's a fantastic game. Just ignore the optional bullshit and it's easy to see why the game is heralded as one of the Nintendo 64's finest. As far as RPG's go, it's not the best, but it's unique, fun, and introduces a variety of interesting concepts not often seen elsewhere - for instance, the action commands. True, Super Mario RPG had an action bonus as well, but Paper Mario enhances the concept through its use of micro-game like creativity. Still think they hamper the overall speed of battle, but like I said earlier, I really like the idea. Additionally, the areas are interesting and well varied - yes, even Shy Guy's Toy Box. Honestly, I love the idea behind that area; it's just a shame how it played out for me. Same can be said for Flower Fields - in fact, that may be my favorite area from a conceptual standpoint. Another element concerning the world is that it's nicely populated giving it a well-deserved, lived-in feeling which really helps with story depth and overall bringing the paper thin world to life. This is something a lot of RPG's fall short on, in my opinion, and I think Paper Mario definitely set the bar regarding believable populations.

And finally, music. There's a wealth of great music, so much so that it's tough to decide on just a few notable tunes. There were a couple standout pieces, although I have a feeling my first two picks are likely too ambient for the common man: Shooting Star Summit and Over Shiver Mountain. But my absolute favorite piece in the game has got to be Angry Bowser. There's just something about that twangy sitar that makes me smile.

Nano-Rant(s):

It can't be. It just can't be. Despite claiming my adoration for the game, there's still more that pisses me off.

1. Chuck Quizmo. Fuck this guy and his never ending quiz show. I'd complain that 64 questions is a bit over the top, but that's not really the issue. The issue is that in the scope of natural play, only having the chance to answer one question at a time is bullshit. By the time I completed Shiver Mountain, I had answered a whopping ten questions. Ten questions...out of sixty-four. And it's not like I kept ignoring Chuck Quizmo. On the contrary, I hit him up every time I saw him, and no, I wasn't incorrectly answering any of his questions. That's fucking pathetic. Needless to say, in my hunt to tie up all my loose ends before moving on to Bowser's Castle, I spent a good two hours hopping back and forth between Koopa Village and Dry Dry Outpost seeking his one act quiz show. Why does it seem like there's a pattern of irritating monotony emerging? I'm sorry, but this game completely failed at making side quests even meagerly enjoyable.

2. I outright despise the experience system in this game, or more precisely, the lack of Star Points gained from certain enemies once you reach a certain level. I understand it's designed to prevent the player from grinding endless levels of experience, but I think there's a better way they could have gone about it. I'm of the opinion that every enemy should dole out at least a single Star Point no matter the case. Otherwise, there's zero incentive to go into battle with lesser creatures. I know what you're thinking: don't battle lesser creatures. Case closed. Except when you have to constantly trek across the same patch of real estate to grab some cake mix or settle in for a long bout of coin-spawning fisticuffs it becomes an issue. Thankfully, in the off chance where you're avidly trying to avoid battle, there's a few different badges that can help the cause. Of course, every once in a while things just don't work out at which point you have two options. You can either run - not the preferred scenario since coins are already at a premium - or you can slog your way through a meaningless battle with little to no reward. Maybe I'm over thinking lesser grade battles versus reward and rather missed the point the developers were trying to make. However, I found it to be yet another element further slowing down an already atrociously slow game.

So yea, Paper Mario for the motherfuckin' win.... Amirite?

Ugh. The more I dissect the game, the more I wonder why I have any love for it.

Rating: 3 giant tuna out of 5*

*I wanted to give it a 3.5, but with all its flaws, I just couldn't do it in good faith.

PSP - Me & My Katamari

Haiku-Review:

more Prince, more rolling;
demise of a continent,
and King's new swimsuit

Additional Comments:

It's always a joy when a new platform is added to my list. For one, it keeps me bouncing from one system to another instead of stagnating on one or two favored choices such as the NES or Genesis. Though, I'll admit, after the PS2, Sony has failed to wow me with their offerings and I've always had little to no incentive to continue on with their products. Not really sure why. Perhaps the PS2 was such a powerhouse that it seemed difficult to live up to its standards of a nearly infinite lineup of incredible games. Although, to wit, No Man's Sky may be the first title to genuinely change my perception of Sony's merit. Or, in the PSP's regrettable case, Sony decided to enter the handheld market. I hate handhelds. I loved the idea as a kid because they're great for long trips or any other situation that starts to gnaw away at a child's short attention span, but as an adult, it's a useless, unwieldy, eye-straining medium that further affirms what video games have already shamefully proven - myself and every other gamer out there who grew up in the pre-3D revolution are nothing more than children trapped in adult bodies. Why would I want to encourage such a stereotype all the more? But then, considering how iPhones, Galaxys, and what have you have brainwashed the greater masses with mobile gaming, it's quite likely unfair to slander handhelds that at least stay true to the notion of gaming console.

Nowadays, if I can't play a handheld console on a TV, I consider it a lost cause. Though I admit, handheld consoles have come a long way from the Game Boys, and Game Gears of my youth. They're still eye-straining nightmares, but at least with the latter generations we can see everything no matter the quality of light we may be afforded at a moment's notice. Still, it saddens me when there's a game I know I'd love to play only to find out it's a DS release, or a PSP release - games that will sadly never see a home console release of any kind. Mario Kart DS and Mario Kart 7 are prime examples of this. Would love to play them, but doubt I ever will. I have no desire to buy a 3DS, and as far as an older DS model, while I do have one, I unfortunately fried it after performing a screen swap and haven't bothered attempting to bridge the fuse. A shame, but in some respects, no real loss since it's a handheld - a device concept that I have no real admiration for to begin with. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if the gaming community at large viewed this as fair evidence to patronize me in my own considerations as a gamer. As if that's going to instantly alter my stance.

All that being said, it's obvious I repudiated my own terms. Clearly, a handheld title has been tackled, and unless I heavily modded my PSP to play on a TV (I didn't), I was forced to navigate the thrills of handheld gaming. I've Katamari's lovely franchise to thank for that. In fact, after finishing We ♥ Katamari, I even stated my eagerness to continue the series would likely lead to me finally buying a PSP. That it did, though it took me approximately a year to finally track down a copy of Me & My Katamari. In the meantime, numerous other PSP games came into my hands, but for Beat All Games, my plan was to knock Katamari's third installment out as the first PSP title. And, huzzah! So it is done. Maybe handheld gaming isn't the shameful crime I made it out to be after all. Hmm, I do have that WonderSwan Color sitting on the shelf. Should I...?

But enough about handhelds; time to read through the lengthy proceedings of more ball-rolling excitement - literally. Admittedly, I wasn't sure what to expect. Given both We ♥ Katamari's improvements and shortfalls, I was worried that Me & My Katamari would follow suit; sort of meandering off on level ground instead of raising the bar. Although, even casting my personal opinions regarding any innovation, or lack thereof, between the first two titles aside, I was especially distraught over the obvious lack of analog sticks on the PSP - the key element, nay, the only element to Katamari's tried and true control scheme.

Would the controls translate over to the d-pad and organic shapes button layout with relative ease? Sure, the controls essentially relate to cardinal directions, but I envisioned a real lack of overall smoothness that the analog sticks offered. Upon entering the tutorial stage - which was a carbon copy of We ♥ Katamari's tutorial stage; an uneasy grimace immediately surfaced - I fumbled with the funky controls. They're exactly the same as the analog controls, but somehow feel miles apart. No joke, I struggled like a fool just to get on the podium in the center of the stage, This was not a good sign for things to come, never mind Namco's lazy recycling of the tutorial stage - right down to June's important Prince tackling maneuvers for those of us who must collect everything on Sunflower Continent. However, after ambling about like a drunken jackass for a couple of stages, the controls became just as fluid as their analog counterparts. Other than performing a quick flip, which seemed to work roughly 30% of the time on the first attempt, I no longer found the control scheme clumsy or unresponsive. Still, I can definitely sense a certain disconnect in confidence between the traditional analog controls and the more smudgy, smear your thumbs all over the buttons layout of the PSP. Though I clearly had control of the katamari, the general responsive nature still felt relatively spongy at times. Using the Prince's special moves, however...eh, they just don't translate as well. Double tapping left and circle, as I said, failed far too often, and while trying to get a quick burst of speed was less of a gamble, it never felt as seamlessly intuitive as the original analog design.

Here's the interesting thing about struggling for speed bursts or flips. For the most part, they've been rendered unnecessary. Me & My Katamari took a giant step backwards in regard to difficulty. Other than trying to successfully nail 100 points in the Canary stage, this game is far too easy compared to its predecessors. Once you move on from the three town stages, you can literally roll with your eyes closed and probably sweep the stages clean racking up enough strange everyday objects to score 100 points on your first attempt. Ok, in all fairness, that may be a bloated exaggeration, but once I hit the state stages, it really isn't. I not only wiped the slate clean and managed to rustle up 100 point finishes for whatever animal who selfishly wanted an extravagant, tropical island all to themselves, but I managed to 100% all three states on my first go. And no, that's not an exaggeration. Knowing that I fully picked off three stages just like that left me grief-stricken. Considering the long list of items in the game, and the fiendishly cruel location of a few of them in the three town stages, how can the latter stages be so easy to clean up? Hell, it only took me two rolls to fully knock out the final stage; racking up 100 points on my first try. By the way, this additionally irritates me as I had no reason to re-roll the final stage outside of Eternal and as such failed to unlock the final song until everything was said and done and had to go scrounging around the darkest depths of the internet to try and find out how to get Katamari of Love days later after the frustration of a missing song truly grated at my obsessive compulsive nature. Contrary to this game, in Katamari Damacy, I think it took me a good ten to twenty rolls before I picked up that last stupid piece of advertising that I somehow kept missing in the Moon stage. A lot of this game's ease I pinned down, and possibly foolishly, to the PSP itself. Then again, the three town stages managed to push my required rolls to fully complete their item lists into the double digits, so who knows.

But, no. I truly believe the PSP is at fault here. I haven't looked at the numbers, and honestly, I don't care, but I have a sneaky suspicion the PSP's specs, or lack thereof compared to the PS2 are to blame for much of the game's misshapen difficulty. Loading zones unfortunately kill off far too many items and processing power must be the reason. Otherwise, I can't understand why items that are only a few centimeters shy of the barrier's required height are suddenly erased from existence. There are a few items I kept missing time and time again because you have such a small window of opportunity to pick them up. These are items that should still be present after you  load into the next zone - not stage, but zone. What makes the matter even more confusing is when an Animal Book, which is 35cm, is present, but a Clay Stove, which is just over 5cm shy of the 75cm barrier isn't. Why? Why is the Clay Stove suddenly removed from existence? By the time the Katamari reaches 70cm, 5cm is diddly squat. Needless to say, the Clay Stove was like the second to last item I picked up on my way to a completed overall item list. That's just bollocks! In the previous games, item negation scaling never seemed to err on the side of stupidity, at least that I recall. Items that stumped me in those games were because they were well hidden among the visible world as opposed to this game where most of my head scratchers appeared to be the fault of overcoming processing gremlins. Well, that and shit hidden in trees.

A note about about hidden items. Most, if not all of them are one off collectibles. However, they aren't necessarily tagged as rares. If that's the case, then what's Namco's definition of rare? Honestly, I wouldn't question it if certain rares weren't more abundant than certain non-rare items like the Lamp Ghost. Then you have items, rare or not, that are hidden that additionally fall victim to zone loading disappearance, such as the Lantern. I believe the Lantern was the final item I picked up in the game; first off because it was a tough item to find, but more importantly, it was typically negated after bulking up into the next zone before I ever had a chance to find it. The Lantern ended up being one of five items that I had to end up looking up to find their whereabouts. However, even after "cheating," I still kept missing it because it had already popped out of existence. Dammit! Even more incredible, four of those five items that continually outfoxed me ended up being in the town stages.

Not to be showed up by loading based shenanigans, slightly spongy controls, and general blasé when it comes to difficulty, Me & My Katamari continued the trend of general laziness by building a soundtrack of recycled songs. Fortunately, most Katamari music is gold, but I find it disappointing that I'm listening to the same stuff all over again. Roughly 80% of the soundtrack comes from the previous two titles. In fact, I think there's only one new song used within the stages proper. Otherwise, all of the new music is relegated to Prince Island and the surrounding archipelago. However, as much as I want to stamp "lame" all over Namco's can't-be-bothered attitude with this game, Yū Miyake knocked it out of the park with Katamari on the Funk. What a killer track!

Another element I enjoyed was how each stage consisted of three variants and eventually they were all tied in to the single mega stage, Sunflower Continent. Albeit, I wish there was a bit more variety in topographical design among the variants. There was little snippets of variety here and there: a dip in a frozen pond, a strange, magic mystery tour through Japan's mythical underbelly, or...uh.... Well, everything else sort of blended together. At least the camel allowed me to access a desert oasis, but given the sum total of all the stages, it equated to a whole lot of dreary uniformity.

Of the three titles conquered thus far, Me & My Katamari is easily the weakest, but again, I believe a lot of the issue is the medium on which it's played. Even with the few meager innovations, I find that the PSP hurt the title more than anything. However, I'm okay with that because I can accept the game as a handheld interpretation of a wondrous classic. It'd be foolish to expect the flawlessness of the original title and more. If the game had seen a home console release (PS2/PS3) instead, then yes, I'd hold the game to a much higher standard. I suppose it affords a free pass in that sense; after all, I still enjoyed the game despite its rough edges. I just don't think I could properly recommend the game, even to a Katamari lover, since it lacks the passion and oomph of the first two.

Even the King has loosened up, apparently leaving his humorously acidic tongue at home. He's still a little condescending, but he's lost his generally caustic appeal. Like that's possible. Well, apparently it is and it's diminished the beloved juxtaposition of royal vitriol and the sickeningly sweet and adorable world of Katamari Damacy. If anything, I feel as though I'm more of the ass now as I immediately bound through the world disregarding the King's rather unexpected compliments. I've no time for you. Consider it payback for your haughtiness in games past.

Nano-Win:

Likely expected considering I've yet to bring up the one truly peculiar feature in this game. The 2D platforming crossover levels are a delight. Again, like much of the game, they're rough around the edges - namely the physics which I feel are a tad flighty. However, it's a clever concept that I'd love to see further developed into a full game. From my understanding, based on various conflicting accounts on the interwebz, a 2D Katamari game existed on mobile devices, however, it is exactly the same as what's found in Me & My Katamari. Hmm, that's a shame. Well, here's hoping for the future....

Rating: 3.5 intelligences out of 5