with bad dialogue
a studly teen conquers death;
loves a butterfly
Additional Comments:
A somewhat recent acquisition, it sort of fell into my hands on a whim as well as a recommendation based purely on personal interest; not necessarily quality of gameplay. I really had no idea what Astyanax was on about other than being told it was a fantasy-based platformer. And if it wasn't for that smidgen of information, I'd still be under the belief that it was just another generic, deep space STG (realize that I was completely unfamiliar with any sort of artwork at the time) and likely forego the chance to give it the old college try. After all, macrocosmic shooters bear the weirdest names of all so it seemed a perfectly sound hypothesis.
After popping the game in for some quick testing, my initial reaction found the game more than satisfactory. Despite a clunky Castlevania-esque gameplay motif, the larger-than-life sprites gave the game a unique edge - not necessarily for the better, but enough to plant a seed of intrigue. However, when I finally got around to sitting down with this game and started pushing for overall victory, the intrigue melted away and was replaced with the dim reality that is Astyanax.
This is one of those games where I believe the ideas worked on paper and then somehow...what? What happened? There's something about the game that feels sloppy, but I can't exactly pinpoint it. Maybe it's the atrocious dialogue, maybe it's the unimaginative feel, or maybe it's the shoddy hitbox dimensions. I'd say it's my old nemesis, knockback, but that's a whole other can of worms that I'll get to shortly. Besides, it doesn't really compound the issue at hand. Actually, the amorphous hitbox is a pretty diabolical problem, but I think it's all the cutscenes that are so offputting. First off, the story is contrived and drags on ad nauseum. Secondly, the game is run amok with pedestrian names. At first, I figured the game was playing off the banality of The Princess Bride à la Rosebud is to Astyanax as Buttercup is to _______, until I realized the total lack of creative naming across the board. Blackhorn? Thorndog? Sheesh, this stuff is making Brooks' look like a fantasy naming genius. At least some of the place names make up for it with the likes of Remlia, Telugamn, or even Marshy - which despite its obvious "add Y" cop out, it does have a nice little ring to it. Already, the game feels cheapened. But then there's the gut wrenching dialogue.
Before I berate the script, I suppose I should look at it realistically. The median age of Nintendo's customers during the 80s/90s was likely 10. Space is always at a premium on cartridges of old, so any way to condense anything and everything into as little space as possible is always a priority. And last but not least, the likelihood that any gaming company would actually use an author of even meager status to pen a tale, especially something that's 100 lines long, if you're lucky, was nil to none. I picture Joe Schmo from accounting as the author of choice. And that's how it is in most games, but Astyanax reeks of puerile fan fiction at its worst. It really hit rock bottom when Astyanax confronts Thorndog, with the following dialogue spurred by Cutie's inquiry to the princess's whereabouts:
Thorndog: "Ha ha ha..... You are a noisy fly. She will be a slave to Blackhorn soon."
Astyanax: "Wrong ugly! First I'll destroy you, then I'll rescue her."
Thorndog: "Tough talk, insect! Can you back it up?"
There's a lot of eye-rolling material out there in the early days of cutscenes - hell, even today. But having to read something this awful is an insult to writers everywhere. This is the type of stuff that I just have to walk away from, and for a while, I did. I suppose we can only count our lucky stars that voice-over wasn't a viable option at the time. I feel I should chastise the plot as well (thbbt), but I can't point all my fingers at something that can be considered wholly optional to the core gameplay (in a way).
Getting down to the mechanics, the hitbox is misleading - not overly, but enough to aggravate. This is most noticeable in Marshy (which is my least favorite level by the way), where Astyanax's "ethereal aura" appears to extend beyond his physical means in a forward facing direction. No matter how much distance I tried to keep, those spear-wielding muck monsters could always land a hit even when it was blatantly obvious that there was air between the spearhead and our intrepid hero. And thanks to knockback and thin ledges, well it's no wonder Marshy made my shitlist. Additionally, I lacked confidence in Astyanax's jumping. I often felt shortchanged, but not sure if was down to jump pressure or bad luck. This often resulted in near misses on my end, but guaranteed contact by others. Inazumi also played far more difficult than it really was because of this, but I think I can also attribute that to some faulty object clipping. Nevertheless, this appears to be a common theme: faulty and/or sloppy programming that ended up hurting what could have easily been a fun little romp through fantasy land. What really aggravates me though is that all, or nearly all of the game's difficulty was directly attributed to these programming infractions. Surprisingly, the game's pretty easy once you realize that patience is the key - again, very Castlevania-esque. Actually, the game reminds me a lot of Legendary Axe. But neither of those titles relied on shoddy gameplay as a means of difficulty.
However, something that both this game and Castlevania fell back on as a means of difficulty: knockback. I fucking hate knockback. In certain games, knockback works, for instance the Golden Axe series. But here, knockback is nothing but a brutal bitch where it's conveniently coupled with nasty little groupings of short ledges and edge-hugging enemies. Under normal circumstances, this is a highly antagonizing, yet totally fair setup with systematic difficulty. Add knockback to the equation and it's nothing but bad level design, especially when you're dealing with a slipshod hitbox. Yes, the difficulty isn't that much harder as long as you traverse with total composure and utilize pixel-perfect landings, but difficulty shouldn't stem from a rather adverse aftereffect either. The argument can be made for or against the effect based on the initial hit - if you're hit, you're hit - but it's the total lack of control versus severity of punishment. And it's most frustrating when being tormented by a hail of fiery pollen from the various insidious flora that inhabit the lands. No matter how carefully you position yourself, the pollen will always knock you in the opposite direction from the one expected.
Overall, the game turned out to be a disappointment. It had its moments, but the ease and predictability as I pushed further into the game only added to my pain. Realizing the trend of magic weakness possessed by every boss negated any sense of accomplishment. As a result, I never felt like the game climaxed, even with Thorndog's seal of evil forcing sacrifice and/or the final confrontation with Blackhorn. The game played as a mediocre pill from beginning to end and that's exactly what it was. And it's a shame too, because as I said, my initial reaction proved a worthy purchase.
Even the music was a letdown. More appropriately, the music was monotonous and grating. Well, maybe not all of it - Prologue has a nice mysterious ring to it, and Remlia has a distinctively bouncy feel to it. But most of the remaining soundtrack urged me to mute the TV.
Nano-Rant:
I played through this entire game without knowing that Astyanax had additional spells at his disposal. Heck, I don't even know what the other spells do.
Rating: 2.5 noisy flies out of 5
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