XB1 - Guacamelee! Super Turbo Championship Edition

Haiku-Review:

¡Ser un Luchador!
Bust Chozo(s) and venture on,
Mr. Bawkbagawk

Additional Comments:

What an incredible game! It's been some time since a game has been so frustratingly agonizing yet so gripping and entertaining to play. VVVVVV maybe? Even during the most nail-biting, hair-pulling moments of gaming pain, I couldn't find the will to put the controller down. I had to try again and again...and again...and again - so was the case especially in a few particular trials in El Infierno.

Again, thanks to Games with Gold, I could trial Guacamelee!, which if it weren't for Microsoft's free games program, I wouldn't have even bothered with this game. Between the box art, the name, and the allusion to Capcom's tendency to add ludicrous taglines meant to represent a newer, fancier version of essentially the same exact game - I don't care what anyone says, no matter how many Hyper Alpha Championship Turbo EX Remixes they tack on, Street Fighter II is Street Fighter II - I envisioned it to be just another fighting game, a genre of which I've never been a fan. Even after looking at a few snapshots showcasing some of the platforming elements, I wasn't exactly sold on the idea. I still suspected it to be nothing more than a fighter, but perhaps with some large arenas that incorporated platforming like construction - similar to some of the larger stages in the Super Smash Bros. series. Eh, I am a fan of the Smash Bros. series, and that was enough incentive to further investigate Guacamelee!'s true experience.

Coming off of Dust: An Elysian Tail, I was pleased to see another game that followed suit: Metroidvania level design with emphasis on brawler or fighting game style combos. I find it interesting that it should pique my interest despite my general dislike for both Metroidvania gameplay and combo insistence. After playing Dust and now having finished Guacamelee!, and thoroughly enjoying both, I have to admit, I don't take issue with Metroidvania design. I thought I did, but really it's the inference that all Metroidvania games are half-assed replicas of either the Metroid or Castlevania series, both of which I've never liked. It's only natural that my bias towards both of those franchises would carry over to any game that would dare carry a design style steeped in the aforementioned games. Yet, unlike the originators that lent their namesakes to the so-called style of free-roaming platforming, Guacamelee! is actually a thrill to play. I know to most if not all gamers this reeks of blasphemy, but you know what? It's my opinion and frankly, I don't give a damn what anyone else thinks.

While Dust introduced me to the gaming excitement to be had from this unique brawler/platformer mashup, Guacamelee! took the idea and ran with it. Not only does Guacamelee! focus on diabolical platforming requiring some serious finger legerdemain at times, but it utilizes a proper combo system that feels completely natural even with all the platforming chicanery mixed in. Using combos, throws, and other means of fighting strategy actually had purpose. On the whole, the fighting system never felt clunky, forced, or unnecessarily prioritized. It remained a perfect balance to the equally important platforming even as the game swayed from one end of the spectrum to the other either through closed arenas overflowing with a variety of skeletal builds to perilous autoscrolling deathtraps relying on quick reactions. This was best emphasized via El Infierno's numerous trials - equal parts fighting challenges and platforming challenges.

Coming from a gaming background where platforming has always reigned king, I found the platforming challenges for the most part, easy. Dodging the moving thorns for some reason got the better of me far more than it should have, especially considering I managed gold within two tries in Hard Mode. But the real kicker was the stupid chicken assist challenge. I hated that challenge. Surprisingly, it wasn't one of my more difficult challenges to accomplish, though still nasty, but I think it's the one that infuriated me the most. On the fighting side, I struggled with a number of challenges. It took me a good dozen or so times to properly memorize the patterns and best judge what moves should be used when for best effect. The no throws room proved to be my most difficult challenge. The room itself was fair and it was easy enough to make it through to the end without taking a hit to ensure I maximized my hit combo as much as possible, but I just couldn't muster the proper techniques to acquire 130 hits. Unlike all of the other rooms, where you were offered a margin of error, the no throws room offered no margin of error. In fact, without using some sneaky course of action, the room had a negative margin of error. If only gold required a 120 hit combo like the other two specialized fight rooms instead of the curiously amplified amount. I probably ran through that room a good 50 times or so before I started resorting to some really out of the box strategies. But after doing so, I think I managed somewhere in the vicinity of 150-160? Holy guacamole!

But that's part of the magic of Guacamelee!. Any other game, and I'd likely leave the room in frustration. It reminds me of a couple of the special challenges on VVVVVV. Despite my total adulation for the game, I just couldn't bring myself to playthrough the no death challenge for the nth time or other such nonsense. Currently, I'm struggling with exactly that in Limbo. But here, in Guacamelee!, the gameplay excited me, even after the 50th time attempting the no throws room and escaping with a mere 129 hit combo on a damage free run. What the hell am I missing? Yes, there was some controller rage, but the game had me by its claws. No matter how frustrating, I tasted victory; knew I could best it, and enjoyed every single second of it.

Guacamelee! refuses to let up. It's out to challenge the player tooth and nail. Normal Mode's not exactly a walk in the park, but my god, Hard Mode really pushes the boundaries on some of the closed arenas. I could no longer half-ass my fighting expertise. It was time to get serious on precise combo usage and the dexterity required by some of the platforming areas definitely helped in that regard. Speaking of platforming dexterity, the top of the Tule Tree may very well take top honors for high agility demands. In a way, I was saddened I picked up my first sphere care of the Tule Tree as I expected the other entrances to Chac Mool to be all the more difficult, if not at least equal in sheer gaming frustration. I suppose I can at least commend the variety of trials meant to be overcome, but goddamn, Tule Tree's ordeal is exactly that: an ordeal.

The platforming is what really makes this game shine though. Sure, some of the platforming elements are basic or even nonexistent at times, but overall, it's challenging and makes terrific use of all your skills as hand. Now, I'm well aware the game, much like Dust alludes to its spiritual hero, Castlevania, time and time again, alludes to its own spiritual hero, Metroid - right down to acquiring new powers from old Chozo statues. Funny, I don't recall the Chozo ever being a part of Mesoamerican folklore. Must of missed that one. Then again, I was unfamiliar with Chac Mool's real life sculpture counterpart - at least by name - so I suppose it's only possible Metroid has its roots in ancient Olmec tradition. Anyway, back on point, what impresses most me about the platforming is how well it integrates every possible ability at any given moment. In a way, it reminds me of The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past, in that it never takes a single ability for granted. Everything has a purpose and the game sees to it that each ability is put to use seamlessly. Not only that, much like the fighting, the addition of each ability progresses comfortably enough so that the player never feels overwhelmed. On occasion, I found myself fumbling with controls, but it was more out of sudden lapse of concentration or attempting to overcome an obstacle in a way counter to its intended solution. I'm sure some may question why I'd even do that to begin with, but it typically happened out of exploration on my quest to 100% each area.

If there's anything I'd consider a fault, it'd probably be the default audio mix. But with the option to set the audio to your liking, it's a moot point. Still, why does the default setting have the sound effects so deafeningly loud compared to the background music? While I could hear short musical interludes fade in and out every now and then, it does make me wonder if there was much of a soundtrack at all. Often times, the sound effects were so loud that I had the TV set to low volume and as a result couldn't hear much as far as background ambience. Hmm, perhaps I should have taken advantage of those audio settings. Interesting useless fact about me: I try and fiddle with optional settings as little as possible in pretty much any game I play. Don't know why - just an odd little quirk of mine. Seems to have soured my overall listening experience with Guacamelee! though.

Unfortunately, I've never played the original Guacamelee! or even Guacamelee! Gold Edition, so I don't have first hand knowledge of what sort of updates are brought to the table. For all I know, DrinkBox followed Capcom's lead and pointlessly affixed additional hyped-up taglines into tricking consumers that Super Turbo Championship Edition is a whole new game. Although, from what little I've read online, it's not a whole new game, but did overhaul story, bosses, optional elements and the like. So whether it's an improvement or not, I cannot say, but honestly, I don't care because this game brought it as is. Perhaps one day I'll have a chance to play the original version and either feel disenchanted with it or perhaps unnecessary "fixes" performed by STCE, but somehow, I doubt it either way. Based on my experience with this game, all I can say is DrinkBox knows what the hell they're doing and I look forward to seeing more work from them. Additionally, while I thank Games with Gold for allowing me a free chance to play this game, looking back on it and seeing how much fun it exuded, I would have gladly paid for the game.

Rating: 5 DerpDerps out of 5

Flash - Hood Episode 1

Haiku-Review:

quick game recipe:
one part rabbit, one part witch;
drunks and foul language

Additional Comments:

Flash games have never been my cup of tea, as it's rare to find a fully fleshed game that has inherent play value. As such, my experiences with Flash games are few and far between, usually trying out bizarre titles recommended by friends for a mere 30 seconds and walking away colored unimpressed. Even those Flash titles I've decided to slog through for the sake of this blog, while unique and beholden of a certain charm, be it Super Press Space to Win's ironic spin on simplicity or Don't Shit Your Pant's reliance on crude humor and stupidity, rarely hold a candle to "true" gaming experiences. But then there's often brilliance mired among all the mediocrity such as VVVVVV which started its life in the Flash medium. To this day, it's still one of my all-time favorite games and to think it came from such humble roots. For this reason, I'd say it's worth perusing the usual Flash choke holds such as Kongregate or Newgrounds; only the chance of finding that one game worthy of play among all the undesirables is slim to none. Of course, there's more than enough routes to lead you towards the well praised: rating systems, reviews etc., but I rarely ever buy into any of that hogwash as my particular tastes never quite coincide with mainstream thinking - Shenmue being a prime example. Apart from a few friendly recommendations, I tend to leave my Flash experiences to fate - serendipitous finds sparked by certain qualities that catch my eye while casually rummaging through the web with zero intention of seeking out the next great game to marvel over.

I came across Hood after scouring the depths of YouTube listening to obscure video game tracks. Eventually, I came across Hood's Music Box Waltz which instantly grabbed my attention with its macabre, almost lullaby like ambiance. This one tune intrigued me enough to seek out from whence it came - a serial point and click Flash game spread out over several episodes.

Ooh...the whole episodes structure fettered my interest in the game immediately. I've never been big on singular stories broken down into what can rightfully be considered half a game, or even less in this case. Breaking a game into episodes feels like nothing more than a cheap marketing tool. It artificially accentuates story by promoting unnatural suspense. In Hood's case, this seems unnecessary since it appears it may have a story that can stand on its own merits. My belief in this is somewhat biased by the point and click genre in general since story usually plays a major role compared to other games types. Why the need to further inflate it? In contrast, emphasis on gameplay feels slightly diminished as pacing is broken. It becomes somewhat of an afterthought as game immersion loses out to a mechanic devised solely to drive curious readers. In that respect, the game takes on more of a visual novel approach, though it's not readily apparent until you reach the ending.

Based on the existence of this commentary, it's obvious my initial interest was enough to warrant a playthrough despite any reservations I may have had. What little story there is so far is indeed enthralling, but upon reaching the episode's end, everything becomes unraveled. Up until that point, I found the game enjoyable. The play itself is by no means amazing. In fact, it feels rather lackluster for point and click standards, but everything that framed it compelled me enough to push forward. The gameplay was merely a means to an end as I strove to learn more about the strange mythos of Hood and the sorrowful fate of the girl. All the while, I found myself thoroughly captivated by the ominous mood enriching the game world which was cleverly aided by a welcomed film reel presentation utilizing cue marks at set intervals. However, come the end of the episode, it was all for naught. Never have I felt so dejected.

Relying on suspense to reel the player in; wanting more, Hood attempts to make the episode format work by pushing even the tiniest grains of tension into off-putting cliffhangers. Except, the end of Episode 1 is barely worthy of the charge. The episode's end felt so unnatural - so out of left field. I'll concede that the developer succeeded in the sense that he left us wanting more - the episode's minimal length can attest to that, but I won't concede that he left me wanting more. The ending blindsided me, leaving me so aghast that any and all investment in the game took a sudden nosedive. In my opinion, the episode structure backfires because the episode is too short. Never mind the minimal gameplay, which I'll get to in a moment, but I was presented with barely enough material to tide my interest. There was enough material to slowly mold an unusual folklore, but not enough to warrant a 'to be continued' without thinking its all gone to waste. I found myself apathetic towards what may lay ahead for the hunter and the girl because I wasn't given enough time to immerse myself into the story proper and/or care about their endeavors.

Granted, Hood is a Flash title, and limited game time can and should be expected, so it seems wrong to harp on that. However, after finishing the episode, my reflection on the game was akin to that of Shenmue's first disc. What exactly did I accomplish? I sobered up some idiot weather mage. That's it! That alone makes we leery of continuing on with the series. Is each episode going to consist of nothing more than a single, solitary task? Ok, there's more to the episode than just sobering up some inebriated buffoon, but if I were to outline the major talking points, it doesn't really feel like it.

If all of Hood's episodes could be played as a singular game, I'd likely be fussing over stupid, meaningless flaws. I could continue on my merry way, enjoying the game properly. Allowing for a more natural flow for both the story and gameplay would likely mask some of the failings that are much more apparent when the game is broken down into short ten to fifteen minute segments. And most importantly, I wouldn't feel swindled by interacting with next to nothing despite fancying itself an opening story arc. Somehow, I felt as though I accomplished less than I did in Myst and there's literally nothing going on in that game. But alas, it's all wishful thinking and instead, the developer offered me an out a mere ten minutes in.

Failings may be too strong a word, as the gameplay, while lacking compared to other point and click titles, is intuitive enough to keep the player from pulling their hair out over stupid item puzzles. There are a couple moments where I think the background could have benefited from a few minor graphical tweaks in regards to item finds, but otherwise, the "puzzles" were fairly straightforward and equally polished. I'd like to have seen better use made of the inventory, but perhaps that's down to the episode itself. It may even be possible I overlooked something, though I'm certain I clicked every possible graphical representation boasted within the game in every possible combination. I'm disheartened I couldn't finagle the locked door with the knife, but again, product of the episode's parameters or simply overlooking something.

I can't help but feel that I'm unfairly criticizing Hood because of my own preoccupations with some asinine storytelling device superseding the overall experience. But the developer made a choice to present the game in episodes. Whether that was a conscious choice or one made out of necessity thanks to Flash, it completely ruined the game for me. Only because he succeeded so well in mood, I'm willing to move forward with the series, or at least convince myself of this belief. Then again, I feel so apathetic towards the story after such an underwhelming attempt to bait my continued interest and such disdain towards the game's now seemingly jerky progression I feel I can only feign that interest to forge ahead for so long. I just don't see the point. As long as every episode is an ineffectual little tease like the first, I can only feel indifference towards it all. I'm well aware that the game's been out for a while and as such, four episodes are currently playable if I'm not mistaken. Is that all the episodes? That same indifference prevents me from willingly researching the facts. It would be as easy as a few quick mouse clicks to call up the next episode, but...well, my ramblings have circled and the point is made.

Perhaps... Perhaps I'll give the second one a go; to at least see if there's any improvement. Ah! But perhaps that was his plan all along. A crafty one, he is.

Rating: 2 disgustingly comfy chairs out of 5

SNES - The 7th Annual 'Vanilla' Level Design Contest

Haiku-Review:

again: adventure...
through individualized
interpretations

Additional Comments:

Unlike most of my commentaries, I have a sneaky suspicion this one may fall on the short end of the spectrum. Why, you may ask? Well, this game, er...hack of Super Mario World is more a collection of 80-some odd levels designed by 80-some odd individuals for the purpose to be judged in an annual contest held on SMWC. Ah! But there's a unique difference between this contest, and the six that proceeded it; that difference also being the reason why my first and only entry in the Vanilla Level Design Contest series is lucky number seven. SMWC's 7th Annual Vanilla Level Design Contest was proposed as a contest in which the entries can be combined together to create a single collaborative hack - or perhaps compilation hack is a better term. For the first time, instead of fishing through a sea of .ips files and patching countless .smc's, every single entry can be played as a single ROM under the guise of a completed game.

Still, it seems to be a rather silly entry for Beat All Games, but then again, the credo for Beat All Games is to beat all games, and it's hard to deny this particular title's credibility as a game. But unlike every contest in the past, I had a keen interest in playing this hack. For one, I enjoy collaboration hacks, especially more of the compilation style hacks such as the VIPs where there is a wide selection of level design philosophies present: from the brilliant, interesting, and out of the box ideas, to the horrible, boring, and dickish. Everything imaginable, but more so, the unthinkable, has the potential of making an appearance. And for me, that's the joy. It's like taking a ride on the wild side; playing rebel to all of the conventional gaming ideologies.

But there's more to my own VLDC playthrough wishes. For the first time, levels offered by a number of SMWC's esteemed designers could be found on a single ROM. In some respects, the hack could be treated as a sampling of a fair cross-section of competent level designers within the SMWC community without having to play an equivalent number of hacks. Not to say that's a bad thing, but I don't exactly have the desire to play nothing but SMW hacks. Been there, done that.

And finally, perhaps for a more sinister, albeit personal, reason, I can enjoy a game in which I had a tiny hand in helping create by being a designer of one of the 82 (not counting Switch Palaces) levels. Consider it thinly veiled self promotion. Eh, call it opaquely coated, as I'll purposefully neglect to mention which level is mine - we'll say for intrigue's sake.

To comment on the game though is difficult as best. It's a fabulously put together hack, and despite the game being completely open from the beginning, feels like a cohesive product. For obvious reasons, the difficulty scaling is absurd, but that can be and should be overlooked. Otherwise, the game comes together nicely, as though it truly is a grand adventure through some mysterious land that would easily ring familiar with our audacious hero, Mario. Be it an inviting forest, a mystical desert, or a perilous climb into the sky, there's more than enough of the usual fare to keep the more absurd level ideas grounded without discouraging the player. Yet, there's just enough levels seeded in madness to keep the player on their toes - from a cave that's inside-out to an epileptic's worst nightmare.

Depicting a long list of arbitrary levels thrown together in a hodgepodge of organized chaos seems hardly a case to call this a proper game though. But then you have the icing on the cake: a beautifully designed overworld and a fantastic soundtrack consisting largely of remixes on original Super Mario World themes created especially for the hack by some of SMWC's top composers. A couple favorites include the Here We Go! (Abstract Remix) (it's so non-Mario-esque, yet carries enough of the original melody to alleviate any fears that the game's deviated too much from the norm) and the Athletic Remix (somehow, this version conveys the intention of the original song better than the original song). Meanwhile, original compositions such as the Mountain Map and the Worst Map (believe it or not, I find this to be the best piece in the game as it accomplishes its desired mood perfectly) bring the game to further astonishing heights. It's wonderful details like this that helps blur the line between design potpourri and conscientious work, yet still maintaining its roots as a platform for showcasing entries intended solely for a contest. If it weren't for a few of those one levels and an open world, you'd swear the hack fulfilled aspirations originally intended from the very beginning as a proper Mario adventure. Then again, in a way, it did exactly that.

Rating: 4 unscrupulous number jokes out of 5*

*Hmm...another SMW hack with yet another pointless marijuana reference. Should I be surprised? I don't know. I'd think a simple 404 or BRK equivalent would be more appropriate. Though BRK's hex of 00 would be lost on all but the very few. Fuck it! Sex and drugs? Why not?

CPC - Sorcery

Haiku-Review:

a labyrinth of doors:
should I use a key? No, Wait!
I'll use a bottle

Additional Comments:

And now for something completely different.

Different indeed! While toying around with various Intellivision emulators in my attempt to finish up Advanced Dungeons & Dragons since my actual Intellivision and TV don't care to communicate, I found myself looking through some of the more obscure emulators I've managed to collect over the years. I had gotten a hold of a couple emulators for the Amstrad CPC computer system and have been eager to try some games out but I've never had luck getting any of them to work. Much like the games offered on the Commodore 64, I was both mesmerized by the primitive graphics and the incredible soundtracks that graced any number of CPC games as seen in a variety of YouTube videos I perused out of curiosity.

Sorcery just so happened to be a game I picked out of pure happenstance to test out some CPC emulators. Turns out, after poking around on the net for information on the game, that its highly praised by fans of CPC gaming. Lucky pick, I suppose. Perhaps I should take up the lottery. The copy I found had a few POKEs, essentially cheats for us console laymen, pre-installed. Not knowing what the questions were in reference to, since they were in either Spanish or Portuguese - it escapes me at the moment - I randomly hit yes or no. Though, truth be told, I feel a bit silly admitting as such since I realized after the fact, and once I got a few minutes of gameplay under my belt, that the questions weren't all that difficult to translate. This is, of course, flagrantly disregarding any use of Google Translate I could have taken advantage of should it be of such concern.

While simple enough, Sorcery is a confusing blend of puzzles and level navigation. Haphazardly turning certain POKEs on only makes matters worse. The true purpose of well over half the items escaped me while I finagled my way past creepy denizens with unintended invincibility. Only the vast array of locked doors and hatches curbed my magical adventure. The thing is, I wasn't exactly aware that I had cheats set up, which only intensified my confusion over what I saw on screen. The idea of integrated POKEs was completely foreign to me and I never imagined I had the ability to turn on full cheats at the drop of a hat. But after some further research and full translation of the POKEs menu, I finally had a grip on reality - or at least the reality of what Sorcery's all about.

A few weeks later and armed with a better understanding of its mechanics, I stepped back into the CPC arena. POKEs eliminated, I plunged ahead looking forward to experiencing the game for what it really is. After all, though my initial foray was mired in epic confusion, I enjoyed my miniature adventure piloting the lone sorcerer around a magical kingdom filled with strange retro computer wonders. I saw hope in this game and had every desire to return for a full playthrough. And though I may be ignorant or inexperienced in the ways of computer gaming from yesteryear - or any year for that matter - I could see why Sorcery was held in high regard. Despite its primitiveness, the game immediately grabbed me as a fun, yet quirky, little puzzle platformer.

But alas, even with my newfound knowledge, Sorcery is a bewildering door maze that calls for run after hopeless run of trial and error. Other than a couple obvious clues, it's a total crapshoot as far as how and where a majority of the items are used. So, it wasn't just the unbeknownst cheats that affected this convoluted labyrinth of doors and keys. Do I use a key or a bottle? Ok, keys are for doors and bottles are for hatches. No, wait. Keys are for hatches and bottles are for doors? No. Sometimes keys are for both doors and hatches, but so are bottles? What the fuck is going on!? After multiple, and I mean multiple, attempts, I still don't know what locked apertures use keys and which use bottles. Who the heck opens a door with a bottle anyway?

Honestly, I expected to suffer through numerous runs as I slowly learned what magical items were required to unlock my imprisoned wizard brethren, but the whole keys/bottles ordeal actually proved to be my bane. Unlocking the wizards, though suffering from umpteen runs of trial and error in and of itself, were at least easy to eventually memorize. Ah! I use the chalice in the chateau, the goblet in the wastelands, and so on. But I'll be damned if I can memorize all of those mundane portals spread throughout the lands. Sheesh. I found myself wasting an incalculable amount of time traversing the kingdom in search for keys or bottles because apparently my initial intuition was wrong.

Confusion aside, Sorcery is still a brilliant game. And let's be honest: modern gaming has spoiled us with unnecessary hand holding to the point where we expect the answer to be as plain as day. It's difficult to look at a lot of these old games with the required detachment from modern philosophies. While toying around with CPC emulators as well as a few other old computer emus, I stumbled across a copy of Zork, one of the very first computer games I remember playing that wasn't Oregon Trail or Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? The old text adventures are a perfect example of the old school philosophy of throwing you out to the wolves. Can you survive? Here's a hint book that contains literally no hints - good luck! Sorcery raises the same old school gaming survivalist tactics that we all once loved and accepted but now abhor and punish with slanderous commentary. Yikes! That's me! Damn you, modern gaming industry!

But I find it wrong to disparage Sorcery for its required investigative workload. After all, that's what the entire game is built around. I just wish I had confidence in my key ring. Hate to be a jailer in that kingdom. I'd have to lug around a crate of bottles, shields, and a fleur de lys. Try hanging all of that around your belt loop. No wonder the player can only haul around a single object at any given time.

There is one minor detail that agitated me on each and every attempt - besides the whole key/bottle debacle. I'm well aware that every rescued sorcerer stands waiting within the final room, but I really wish they had placed a counter somewhere on the HUD showing either how many compatriots have been rescued or remain imprisoned. Along with wasting precious book eating moments finding the appropriate device to unlock a door, I often found myself wasting time running back and forth between the Sanctuary and some obscure corner of the kingdom because I realized I miscounted how many prison breaks I successfully orchestrated until it was too late. The final words of the great tome of life would crumble away and I'd find myself wallowing in my own failings.

It may be short and simple, but Sorcery requires a good deal of memorization - be it the required unlocking devices at any given moment, how many fellow wizards I've freed, or whether or not I've unlocked that one trap door before venturing out to the great stone henge. Yep, memorization...memorization and a steady hand to ensure our magical hero doesn't drown in the icy depths of every lake in the kingdom. Boy howdy, did some of those lakes ever infuriate me. Keep hovering, you stupid magical twat. Is it really that difficult? Apparently for me, yes, it is.

Nevertheless, I loved Sorcery, and I've read the sequel only improved the already great gameplay. Sorcery also introduced me to the wonderful world of Amstrad, and I'm looking forward to unearthing other marvels penned for such archaic machinery. And since I'm on the subject, I know I've always ragged on or belittled PC games in general, but I do have a warm appreciation for the various old dinosaurs. In some respects, I think I have my old Apple II to thank for that. A bit depressing to think what may have come of it - scrap most likely. But with gems like Sorcery, I'm all the more eager to try out some of the old, forgotten games little known by those of us who were steeped in console gaming.

Rating: 4 sorcerers with mundane, workaday names out of 5

GB - Super Mario Land 2: 6 Golden Coins

Haiku-Review:

erase what we know-
no princess rescuer here;
time to save your home

Additional Comments:

Whether or not it's actually the case, it's always seemed to me that the Game Boy Mario titles got a bit of a bad rap as either straying too far from canon or simply being perceived as kiddie games thanks to their simplistic play and ease of difficulty. But, to be fair, aren't all Mario games guilty of difficulty erring on the side of leisure as opposed to edge of your seat turmoil? Well, at least the 2D titles. I can't exactly speak for any of the 3D stuff, because frankly, I just don't care for them.

I love the Game Boy Mario titles, though I've never played beyond 2. Of course, they're really no longer Mario titles as they are Wario titles by that point. Super Mario Land was a delightful departure from the original Mario games, yet somehow felt familiar enough to prove, in my eyes, a better sequel than Super Mario Panic...er, 2 on the NES. And Super Mario Land 2 was a fantastic reinvention of Super Mario World for the small screen - at least, that's how I always viewed the game thanks to its basic layout. Not unlike Super Mario Land, Super Mario Land 2 was a dramatic deviation from Mario's console titles. Sure, he still jumped his way through fantastic landscapes filled with a myriad of beasts of all shapes and sizes either meeting their fate by Mario's own foot or a fiery flower-induced sphere of pain. Again, there's a certain familiarity to everything, despite exploring the insides of a whale, a giant house - or at least it appears giant to our now miniaturized hero - the moon, or even a nearby star. Surely, these are unknown landscapes for our intrepid plumber, but seeing how Mario games have come to follow a very distinct formula: grasslands, deserts, ice lands, mountains, forests, and volcanic wastelands, I welcome these unique domains with open arms. Even if it is a tad disturbing, I'll gladly navigate the interior workings of a giant whale.

There's still more than enough similarities, even if we aren't on the usual princess rescue mission for the nth time, to merit Super Mario Land 2 as a true to heart Mario game. We're still popping mushrooms out of conveniently placed question blocks and kicking koopa troopas to an untimely demise - though markedly fewer in population it appears. But then, there's the irregularities that sets the game apart as an inside tip for quirkiness and blatant disregard for well known Mario dogma. From Mario's humble beginnings as simple plumber magically warped into the strange Mushroom Kingdom out to liberate the ever so unlucky Princess Toadstool, we've been indoctrinated that 100 coins equates to a 1-up. Ok, ok, Super Doki Bros. Panic already turned our mindsets upside-down by introducing a health system and other such nonsense, but I've never considered that game a proper Mario platformer anyway. Blame laziness on the parts of Nintendo for creating a vast pool of uncertain vagaries muddling up what should be proper Mario mechanics. But that's not the point. Here, the developers chose to drastically change everything we've ever known about Mario's resurrection system. Just because you fancy yourself a coin collector doesn't mean they're going to give out backup lives willy-nilly. No. Instead, life's an investment. You need to save that hard earned cash and gamble it all away much like any poor schmuck throws away a quick hundred on twenty. Then again, you proffer 99 lives for a mere 999 coins - any other Mario game would delegate 9 measly lives for such wealth. So, what's wrong with gambling now?

But truth be told, despite life's riches in comparison to a typical Mario game, the gambling hall feels awkward. Even the poor man's casino offering fire flowers and carrots seems inappropriate, especially considering Super Mario World's start+select feature is carried over. Not only that, on the whole, lives are very easy to come by; surprising considering the 100 coin / life conversion ratio is lacking. Following in the footsteps of the original Super Mario Land, Super Mario Land 2 carried over the bonus game, now tradition, upon level victory. You've got to ring a bell to guarantee eligibility, but that's the least of Mario's worries when it comes to any sort of difficulty. Nearly half of the bonus game bells are practically in Mario's preferred trajectory. Play a few bonus games, obtain a few hearts, and before you know it, Mario is hauling around a sizable trunk of donor hearts should he ever fall victim to a wee beastie or an ill-fated leap to his doom. In some respects, with perhaps the exception of Super Mario World itself, or the New Super Mario Bros. series, Super Mario Land 2 is one of the easiest games to farm lives without even trying.

Another interesting quirk includes altered physics. Perhaps this isn't that phenomenal when you consider something like, say the Frog Suit in Super Mario Bros. 3 which suddenly negates Mario's swim physics, but then again, that's alteration by powerup. Super Mario Land 2, with its epic journey taking Mario into the dark unknown depths of space, alters Mario's ability without the use of aids. But is it really that odd, or unsuspected? After all, science tells us that gravity is lessened on the moon, therefore it only makes sense that Mario bounds without care across the cratered surface. It's the attention to detail that I love, but it's Mario's weird floaty behavior in The Star that makes one question the mechanic. I suppose it's not so much the general floatiness, but how it's controlled. I can't help but feel something more akin to SMB3's frog suit mechanics would have worked better. Instead, the controls lack confidence. It works when Mario is trapped in the hippo's bubble, but it just feels off in the far reaches of space.

Overall, though, the game is a blast. I loved the game as a kid when it first came out, and I still find it to be one of my favorite Mario games. Sure, the game errs on the easier end of the difficulty spectrum, but interestingly enough, for the purpose of Beat All Games, this is the first time I've ever beaten the game. Despite long car trips allowing me to soldier on through this mysterious new world, I time and again faltered upon reaching Wario's castle. For one reason or another, that level got the better of me. I think Mario's wonky jump physics and general slipperiness is to blame for the most part. I know for a fact that the fourth propeller lift on the second floor ended a majority of my attempts. Others - most likely short-lived out of stupidity. Even now, that one sprite bested me a few times, but it turned out the crushable skull platforms proved to be my bane this round. Dubious jumping be damned and carrots a godsend. Sadly, the third floor was an anticlimactic run to victory guarded by what appeared to be a rather threatening boss but turned out to be a three phase letdown when you consider those who preceded him, namely Tatanga and the Three Little Pigheads - neither of which are worthy of the term difficult; perhaps more so annoying. I think though, knowing what has come to be Wario's bag of dirty tricks, I expected more from his battle. I know it's his first appearance, but I didn't expect obesity to be the only trait traced back to his origins. Oh well.

One last note I must make. I never knew the game had an alternate Easy Mode. The game's already easy enough. Was this really necessary? I find this to be one of the most bizarre departures taken by the developers. Of course, there isn't exactly a sizable list of comparisons to draw upon - Super Mario Bros. and Super Mario Land both offered B Modes once the game was completed which equated to an extra generous helping of evil denizens for Mario's stomping pleasure. With Super Mario Land 2's Easy Mode, however, the levels become near vacuums devoid of all life. The amount of sprites stripped from the game is simply astounding, to the point where I felt foolish playing it. Stranger still, there's no options prompt letting you know such a mode exist. This can be normal in regards to harder difficulties, especially on older games where those in the know were privy to the truly challenging, but to hide away a less challenging variant is just...perplexing.

Nano-Win:

Star Maze. That is all.

Rating: 4.5 J Sons out of 5

GEN - Sonic the Hedgehog 2

Haiku-Review:

heroes need sidekicks
but is Tails worthy the name?
heroes don't need dicks

Additional Comments:

Yet another fond Genesis memory from yesteryear, my earliest recollections consist of battling through the two player mode at a friend's house for hours on end. Between navigating Mystic Cave, taking leisure in Casino Night, or simply balls to the wall head to head action on the half pipe, my earliest experiences with Sonic the Hedgehog 2 were bursting with thrills and excitement. Sadly, I recall little if any single player antics from those early days, but then, that was a long time ago - Christmas of '92 / early '93 or thereabouts I suspect.

Several years later, I found myself with my own copy of the game and while any hopes at a two player effort may have gone out the window, I was able to dive into the single player head first. Right from the start, and I can trace my opinions on the matter to those days in the early 90s, the levels exploded with creativity, speed, and outright grandeur over Sonic's initial foray on the Genesis hardware. Levels such as Chemical Plant, the aforementioned Casino Night and Mystic Cave, Metropolis, and Wing Fortress proved the game's superiority, yet I somehow always found myself returning to Sonic's roots. For me, Green Hill trumped Emerald Hill - always had, and likely always will. Maybe it's just the nostalgia, or maybe it's the music. But then there's greats like Marble Zone and Starlight. Ok, Aquatic Ruins is definitely the preferable water level, but...but.... Why am I so drawn to the original when there are so many advancements in platforming trickery present in the blue hedgehog's second 16-bit outing? I'll admit that Sonic the Hedgehog 3 and Sonic & Knuckles haven't exactly paid favors to Sonic the Hedgehog 2, but that's a story for another time and for the purpose of the here and now, I'm choosing to neglect such hearsay.

Whether I'm a victim of nostalgia glasses or not regarding the better game, I can't deny what Sonic the Hedghog 2 brought to the table. Unlike his first adventure, Sonic can now spin dash - a massive improvement in game mechanics and honestly, after playing a Sonic game that includes said feature then returning to the original game; it's a wonder how you ever functioned without it. Ugh, those unbearable hill climbs where you had to backtrack and make appropriate use of distance whereas in Sonic 2 we can easily zip up and over any obstacle with ease. It's akin to Mega Man's slide. I love Mega Man 2, but good god, without his slide I always feel like I'm playing half a game. And if that's the case, wouldn't Sonic the Hedgehog suffer the same? How dare I imply the possibility that Sonic 2 is an inferior game. Maybe I'm just choosing my words poorly.

Sonic the Hedgehog 2 is by no means inferior to the first game. If anything, it's knocked it out with a quick one-two punch: enhanced mechanics including a semi co-op component, and a vast cross section of creative level settings. And even though by the numbers Sonic 2 only has two more levels, if I'm not mistaken, it almost feels like there's close to a dozen more. By dumping the three acts per zone format in favor of two acts, with a couple of exceptions, Sonic 2 suddenly became a grand adventure through some truly interesting and somewhat bizarre locals - Oil Ocean anyone? Seriously, what other game would pit their hero on a complicated network of oil rigs? I love it! Well, I love the idea of it - Oil Ocean has never been one of my favorite zones to play through. Goddamn Aquis has an uncanny ability to nail me no matter how I approach the situation. Though I don't know what's worse, Aquis or Slicer. Slicer may take top honors only because he seems to interrupt the game's pace more than any other enemy lest you're willing to tank a hit. But it seems I've found myself astray of my original point.

Sonic 2's so-called co-op feature was...interesting to say the least. While it technically allowed a second player into the single player game, it actually played poster boy to the equivalency of a slap in the face. Oh sure, you can play two players...for approximately three seconds every fifteen seconds or so if you're lucky. The idea that Tails equates to co-op mode is mysterious at best, in that it makes you wonder if Sega was making a serious attempt at such a mechanic here or not. I've never understood who would willingly play second fiddle knowing full and well it's nowhere near an actual gaming experience. It's such a bizarre integration of this so-called co-op. On the bright side, at least Sega realized this faux multiplayer would fool no one and integrated a fully playable two player aspect via split screen stage races. And though it's a shame only three zones are utilized, I commend them for their picks; not to mention the ability to run the Special Stage, which in my opinion is where the half pipe truly shines.

Ah yes, the Special Stage's half pipe - so much fun, yet so much frustration rolled into one neat little package. Attempting to get the Chaos Emeralds in single player mode is an unmitigated disaster, especially if Tails is along for the ride. But the real issue is the coin barriers leave little to no room for error. Compared to Sonic the Hedgehog's Special Stage, or heck, even Sonic 3's Special Stage, Sonic 2's asks too much of the player. Whereas the other two games present areas that do offer a challenge, they're not unforgiving. In fact, they're rather easy going. Maybe I'm just bitter over Tails' ineptitude to properly mimic Sonic when it matters most. Stupid fox!

The one upside to Sonic 2's mechanics regarding the Special Stage is the opportunity to gain all of the Chaos Emeralds by the end of Chemical Plant Zone Act 1; even earlier is you do some cheaty menu manipulations apparently. However, Super Sonic is an annoyance like no other, and other than perhaps wanting to 100% the game by getting the good ending, it's not worth chasing the emeralds down. Super Sonic is a complete uncontrollable bastard. I'd rather make one block jumps using Mario's ice physics from Super Mario World than play with this overzealous idiot.

Despite these shortcomings, Sonic the Hedgehog 2 should still be a clear victor over the original. It's just...it doesn't quite come together for me, but where it does come together it does so beautifully. Another of those beautiful moments, like all of the early Sonic games, is the music. Whether it's Chemical Plant Zone, Metropolis Zone, or the relaxing Sky Chase Zone, the songs are simply fantastic. But can anything trump those fat synths rolling along in Mystic Cave Zone? I think not.

Overall, a fantastic game for any Sonic fan, or heck, any fan of platformers in general. For the everyday man, yes, Sonic the Hedgehog 2 outshines Sonic the Hedgehog without contention, but for me it's going to have to put up a fight. But I'm not exactly your average gamer, so go and enjoy this incredible gem of a game and a milestone in Sonic's early career.

Nano-Rant:

But I can't possibly end it there without talking about what a true rapscallion Tails is. Fuck that, he's a grade A asshole! There's a certain enjoyment about playing the game on Sonic & Tails mode. It feels right, seeing Tails, the carefree sidekick trying his best to keep up with his hero. But my god, how many times I fell victim to his mischievous ways or his general disregard for Sonic's well being. Hill Top's version of Robotnik is the best example of this - Tails sneaking in an extra hit only to initiate Robotnik's brief invincibility so I can fall to my doom in the pool of lava. Fuck off, Tails! You are not helping! Other examples include Tails preemptively activating various lifts or platforms as I fall to my death. I never liked you anywaaaaaaaaaaaaa.......

What a jerk.

Rating: 4.5 biplanes out of 5

XBLA - Dust: An Elysian Tail

Haiku-Review:

a wise invention-
tool of clout; of protection.
lo! a hittin' stick!

Additional Comments:

I love this game! Love, love, love...

Wait! What's this? A fresh game - something that hasn't been stinking up my backlog like a sack of old potatoes. Hot damn!

Thanks to Microsoft's Games with Gold, I was introduced to this gem of a game, though I wasn't exactly gung ho from the start. I was pleased to see an adventure/platformer mishmash, but I've often found myself leery of newer games befitting of the genre. All too often, these types of games come off as generic. Rarely do they ever introduce anything of note. Honestly, Dust is no different, yet I found myself strangely addicted to its vast amalgamation of game styles. However, it took some time before Dust grabbed me by its claws - or perhaps, his claws.

My initial observations of the game nearly soured my experience beyond the point of no return. Between the pop-up character scenes used to progress the story or for some quick witted banter - reminiscent of the cheesy storytelling tools found in some of the various RPG Maker's - and the game's emphasis on Metroidvania style design - a style I've never been the biggest fan of, though most of that likely stems from my general distaste for the two series that eventually spawned the portmanteau moniker - my expectations took an immediate dive. Add to that, the voice acting came off as juvenile, or perhaps it was just the script. Heck, the whole presentation felt rather puerile.

The game kept conjuring images of MapleStory or any other Korean made adventure/RPG bullshit saturating the web with its free to play atrocities. For much of the game, I was convinced Dust was conceived somewhere within the borders of South Korea. With its cutesy, anthropomorphic Disney-esque artwork, its cringing dialogue making me feel embarrassed lest I'm a tween, and even its adorable twin heart logo, I had a hard time imagining the game was anything but Korean. I was surprised to find out Dust was more or less a one man project dished out from the States. Maybe all my gaming facts have been given a good knock and I'm just confused over the whole matter. Anywho....

Despite my initial grumbling, I gave the game a whirl. By the time I got three screens in, the artwork completely won me over with those adorable deer prancing through the forest. Again, I feel a lick of embarrassment being lured in by such darling imagery, but it's so utterly captivating - the world, the characters, the details, the resplendent beauty of it all. Cutesy, anthropomorphic Disney-esque artwork? Sure, bring it on! Then again, I've always liked the early era Disney art style. It's true mastery of illustration.

When I learned about the Dust Storm and Fidget's ability to throw projectiles, I was sold on Fidget's annoying pre-teen banter. Her high hopes of impressing Dust with her three measly charged particles reminded me of one of my all-time favorite Calvin and Hobbes strips where Calvin hoped to belt Susie with a snowball only to see it fall inches from his feet thanks to gravity's abnormally strong presence on that particular day; also explaining his earlier breakfast mishap. Ah, imagination. Typically, adding characters purely for comic relief accomplishes nothing better than a plethora of bad puns and endless eye-rolling. I expected as much from Fidget in the beginning, but by the time I reached Aurora, I appreciated Fidget's worth in full, from her incredible attack potential to her childish sense of humor using modern sensibilities. Her uncanny ability to cull up the ridiculous: sleep combo, evil knife hands, stupid hat club etc left me chuckling with glee for most of the game. Her dialogue constantly teeters on the cusp of juvenile stupidity, yet entertains heartily.

For that matter, the dialogue in general was a nice escape from the typical heavy-handed drama found in most games. As a result, most games tend to suffer from overacting - Vay comes immediately to mind. Dust, feels far more natural in the dialogue department, though at times it may still feel forced, namely those dramatic scenes enacted by Dust himself.

Circling back to Fidget's comic relief and the general humor weaved throughout the game, it reminded me of The Bard's Tale. It's blatantly sophomoric at times, but careful not to overstep its bounds unlike the base attempts at laughs in, for instance, Fable. Additionally, much akin to The Bard's Tale, Dust was self aware, or insomuch that Fidget was self aware that she was nothing more than a character in a video game. I love when games do this, though obviously it has to be carefully done or it can go horribly awry. The Bard's Tale successfully "broke the fourth wall" so to say, and here, Dust managed similar effects with gusto, especially Fidget's astonishment when Dust manages to pocket one of Gappy's sheep. Besides Fidget's awe, Dust's response, or lack thereof, is priceless. After all, doesn't everyone have an unlimited inventory that can hold all manner of objects? Hmm, sudden memories of D&D's Bag of Holding are stirred.

It can be said that the fighting in this game errs towards monotony. Attempting to draw inspiration from beat 'em ups or fighting games, Dust offers up a handful of combos in your fighting arsenal, but sadly they're all pretty useless. Beyond feverishly mashing the X button or making strategic use of the Dust Storm, I found little to no need for any of the combos. Still, there's something to be said for mindless button mashing. Sometimes, it just works - think any quality hack 'n slash such as Gauntlet or the Dark Alliance series. While I sensed the game was trying to reach out to its brawler roots, its pacing placed too much emphasis on quicker action sequences - quick enough to blur the line from strategic battle sequences to mindlessly murder everyone and everything. However, if the game's reliance on brawler tactics succeeded, my enjoyment for the game would have definitely waned. I enjoy a good beat 'em up but Dust is neither the time nor place. In my opinion the fighting works as is, and though it may be repetitive, I thoroughly enjoyed it - enough to willingly play all four modes to 117% completion back to back to back in rapid succession.

There is one gripe I have, and if you know me, it should be predictable: unnecessary retailers flooding the land. Other than the one or two keys you need to purchase in order to achieve 117%, I never bought anything from the shopkeep on all four playthroughs. There's no reason to - no reason to buy curative creations, weaponry, materials, anything. First off, the monsters dump more than enough items to satisfy even the most intent hoarder. Add to that a blacksmith that can craft any given item at a moment's notice, granted you have enough materials, which even if you only fight a bare minimum of evil denizens there's a good chance you do, and soon enough your inventory will be overflowing with a vast cornucopia of items. And if you choose to sell any of the excess items - which honestly, I see no point - you'll only add to your already overabundant wealth. At no time, other than perhaps trekking through The Glade for an initial blind run, is it necessary to visit the shops for anything. Oh, the shops do have one purpose I suppose: to catalogue all the newfound materials gathered along your journey which I think is necessary for 117% completion. I'm not entirely certain to that claim however as I defaulted to registering every material out of habit.

A related complaint can be made about any and all of the healing items. They're all useless, especially once you acquire an item with regenerative properties. The only time I relied on food usage was during the final boss on Tough and that's only because I treated Tough more as a speedrun and by the time I reached the endgame, my various attributes were on the weak end of the spectrum. Every other difficulty I maxed out my attributes, but on Tough I definitely felt the affects of marginalizing my abilities. Perhaps that's the key to experiencing difficulty - sandbag your abilities, or heck, just use the Ugly Pendant. No, that's just the key to needlessly dragging out each battle scene. Boring.

But if the shop is the only thing I can genuinely complain about, than this game is golden. And it is. I thoroughly enjoyed Dust despite my initial apprehensions that I was about to play some shitty Korean grindfest. Everything I initially brooded turned out to be the very reasons why I loved the game. The artwork is gorgeous, especially Cirromon Caverns - yes, Fidget, it is beautiful. The voice acting is enjoyable, and overall the scripting is fairly well done. It takes a little getting used to at first, especially Fidget's campy teenage nonsense, but it's far easier to forgive, appreciate, and eventually adore than any of the over dramatic abominations typically found running rampant in video games. The overall gameplay certainly isn't top notch or groundbreaking, but the controls are tight, the game's intuitive and there's more than enough fun factor to go around. And then there's the music. Ok, some of the music accomplishes the basic requirements of game music: decent quality BGM's. But then you have tunes like Cirromon Caverns. I often found myself revisiting Cirromon Caverns above and beyond what was necessary just to listen to this song. It's one of those perfect mood setting pieces and fits beautifully with the otherworldly scenery.

Nano-Rant:

Ah! But I can't let the game off that easily. In Hardcore mode the game decided to become a bit of a dick by removing invincibility frames after being hit. Removing invincibility itself is not the issue, and definitely no reason to complain, but there's a particular area in lower Cirromon Caverns where the lack of invincibility proves that even a lighthearted game like Dust can be a real asshole at times. Because of the lack of invincibility frames, environmental hazards can become serious deathtraps as you're no longer allowed the privilege of escape under temporary invincibility. Add to that the unpredictability of bubble sprouts and some serious knockback and you've got a formula for all sorts of evil. Uphill spike jumps, bubble sprouts, knockback, and lack of invincibility - hoo boy, did I ever face evil straight in the eye. My deaths were far too numerous to count just to try and pass this one area - far exceeding all the rest of my deaths combined not only throughout the rest of the game, but across the other difficulties as well. And, yes, I truly wish I was exaggerating this point but I'm not. The one time I passed it successfully without error, I succumbed to an ignorant death later on down the road before I came across the next save temple. In the end, I had to manipulate my knockback in hopes the bubble sprouts would help me cross the evil spikes of evil as opposed to further impeding any progress.

Nano-Win:

I can't possibly ignore the brilliance of Mysterious Wall Chicken, an obvious nod to Castlevania and/or everyone's favorite Castlevania II moment of stupidity: the secret red gem whirlwind. Huzzah!

Rating: 5 demon blacksmith's out of 5*

*The worst kind of blacksmith.

GB - Kirby's Block Ball

Haiku-Review:

a test of patience;
trigonometric study-
blast my fucking luck!

Additional Comments:

Yep. Backlogs and such...

True, Kirby's Block Ball has been on the same backlog that's occupied much of 2014's victories, but I've also been playing the game off and on for quite some time. Why so long? Between the sheer test of luck, hopefully bestowed by the gaming gods, and the unforgiving Border Lines in the latter stages, this game is one agonizing take on everybody's favorite block buster, Breakout. Get it? Blockbuster? Oy vey, twas such a bad pun...

It appears Kirby has befallen the same curious quandary that has stricken the Pokémon franchise. That is to say, both series have been introduced into the world of Beat All Games with one of their odd spin-offs. Although, I will attest that I had the fortune of being formally introduced to each representative party in video game format via Super Smash Bros. Melee. Still, it's odd to complete a spin-off before one of the franchise's primary titles, though it must be said my first encounter with Kirby outside of SSBM was playing through a few levels in Kirby's Dream Land 3 some years back on an emulator. Sadly, my experience was negatively impacted by ZSNES's shitty coding and it's inability to properly render the translucent effects on layer 3. Yet my first Pokémon experience outside of SSBM? Pokémon Snap. o_O

I can't really explain why I've overlooked the Kirby franchise for so long - and still have. It's a brilliant platformer series. But there you have it. So what's so special about Kirby's Block Ball that it managed to break my mold of neglect? To be honest, it's an odd story stemming from my SMW hacking days. When the ability to add custom music was first introduced, one of SMW's hacking elite, FPI, ported some of the first custom tracks available and one of the tracks was a delightful port of Kirby's Block Ball's Stage 1 Theme. It's so jaunty - the song immediately grabbed me and from that point forward I always wanted to play the game from which it was sourced. Very rarely has a song led me to the desire of tracking down the original game. Then again, most video game tracks I wholeheartedly enjoy come from games I'm familiar with. Kirby's Block Ball, other than being yet another entrant in the Kirby universe, was pure conjecture on my part regarding game style. For the longest time, I kept confusing it with Kirby's Dream Course and was rather surprised when I found out it was a Breakout clone - and not pleasantly at that as I'm not a huge fan of the ball and paddle block buster.

Finally tracked down a copy of the game in a local store only to have my hopes dashed when I found out the battery was dead. Ugh! Why does it seem that battery replacement has become a common theme as of late? A short soldering session later, and away I go. Like I said, I'm not the biggest fan of Breakout - it's ok, but it's a little too steeped in luck for my liking. Fortunately, Kirby's Block Ball adds a number of interesting gimmicks and strategic nuances. Utilizing certain abilities, such as stone or needle, the gameplay is greatly enhanced and strategy easily overcomes luck as a mechanical priority, especially when trying to achieve some of those deviously high Border Lines in the latter stages. Still, luck plays a major role when attempting to clear a swathe of through blocks in hopes of acquiring maximum bonus potential, hopefully pushing the point's total withing 50k before squaring off with a stage's given boss.

On my initial run, I gave little to no heed to the Border Lines; thinking them to be nothing more than bragging rights. Little did I realize they were required achievements in order to meet Dedede in a final showdown. This information came after a few weeks of on and off play. A shame really, though in the past couple of years I've been pretty adamant about making sure I get manuals with any purchased games of yesteryear. Therefore, since I lacked the appropriate information on my original playthough, I enjoyed the game for what it is: a delightful re-imagining of Breakout. The overall experience felt so casual - in a way mirroring my interpretation of Kirby games in general. I took my time with the game, allowing myself to soak in the abundant gaiety throughout. Even the boss fights rang of cheerful exuberance as Kirby bounced from one side of the arena to the other. And I was given free reign to experiment with Kirby's various abilities at my leisure, impacting by appreciation for this new mechanical twist melding the world of Kirby and...er, brightly colored blocks, or as the Game Boy would present it: four shades of green. Sigh.

But wait, I must clear those contemptible Border Lines if I'm to open up Stage 11 and finish the game properly. It was time to shelve my casual play. Maybe I'm putting too much emphasis on devilish tricks when it comes to outshining the required scores as the first five or six stages played fairly equivalent to my original run. While the early stages necessitated bonus rounds à la through block accumulation just as much as the latter stages, there was minimal reliance on pure luck. I felt relatively in control of Kirby's trajectories through the early stages, especially if I had the stone ability. The latter stages, even with needle's ability to more or less reset Kirby's point of origin, caused rampant hair pulling as luck became more invasive in my game play tactics. Stage 9 proved to be a nightmare as its lone bonus chance fell on deaf ears, er, hands. Whereas the early stages offered appropriate amounts of wiggle room, Stage 9 pulled the net from under you. Then again, we're talking about one of the final stages so it should only be expected, but it felt like there was a dramatic shift from Stage 8 whereas prior there was a gradual increase in difficulty requiring Kirby's various abilities to garner as many points as possible before facing the boss. Still, it wouldn't be a point of focus if Stage 11 wasn't so easy to attain Border Line status in comparison. On my first run through Stage 11, I managed to come up just shy of the Border Line by a measly thousand points. Stage 9, however, took a fair share of attempts to masterfully complete thanks to its dreadfully annoying bonus run, of which there was only one and was damn near impossible to muster a halfway decent score on - rather similar to the shitstorm disguised as a cleverly designed bonus round in Stage 3-2. At least they had the courtesy to offer multiple options for obtaining some of those much needed points elsewhere throughout Stage 3.

Overall, I found the game enjoyable, but not exactly entertaining enough to ever return. Perhaps in my younger days while playing Game Boy on long car trips, as I did, I'd probably have the will to return, but in today's world of gaming, Kirby's Block Ball has its own certain unique charm, but that's about it. Sure, the game further develops the basic Pong-like block busting relay into a vast assortment of interesting, and at times, frustrating arenas, but now that I'm done; looking at the game as a whole...? Well, it's Breakout, but so much more, yet...somehow muddled as though the core fundamentals of the original game got swept up in the ether. In fact, even the paddle physics seem to have gotten lost in translation as the ability to judge a desired angle is purely speculative. Every time I thought I understood that frustrating bar of trigonometric evil, it suddenly defied all logic. Essentially, what it all comes down to is that I had very little confidence in the game's physics. I'd blame my lack of confidence on the controls, as they were a bit dodgy themselves, but I really think the misunderstanding of basic angular theorem is at fault. And the only reason I bring it up is on the few versions of Breakout that I have played over the years, I've always felt confident with the ball's rebound direction - at least far more confident than I felt here. Perhaps if the game better instilled a sense of confidence in its workings, I'd have no reason to fault anything - even when the game was at its worst regarding its luck-based endeavors.

Still, Kirby's Block Ball is a decent time waster and offers enough enjoyment as a casual play. Anything more, however, just isn't worth the trouble. Great music though!

Nano-Rant:

I've already mentioned Stage 3-2 and its ridiculous bonus setup, though the whole stage is of horrid design. Already having to rely on capricious angle physics, trying to get Kirby inside either of the two shelving units is a test of patience - and a lot of it. But worse still is Stage 11-5. Who designed this bullshit stage!? I may have spent upwards of twenty or thirty minutes both times I played the area because of those stupid crevices off to either side that are damn near impossible to enter thanks to the long overhangs of solid blocks. If there was ever an act of futility, this is it.  11-5 exemplifies Kirby's Block Ball's wish to be nothing more than a game of chance. Strategy? What strategy? It's not a frustrating stage like 3-2 or 9-3 - two stages whose difficulty is culled mostly from their respective bonus games - but instead is a trial by utter boredom.

Rating: 2.5 apples out of 5*

*How do ya like them apples?

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.