PC - Abobo's Big Adventure

Haiku-Review:

why praise Nintendo
when you can blast Nintendo?
death to all mascots!

Additional Comments:

(Be forewarned: if you wish to appreciate Abobo's Big Adventure on your own time, perhaps through a blind run, take leave now as I will likely spoil everything and anything that appears in this game.)

But seriously, Abobo's Big Adventure is a beautiful tribute to the heralded 8-bit era of the NES. Apt? Maybe not, but beautiful for sure. And while it may not contain jabs at everyone's most beloved titles, it showcases a fair cross section of Nintendo's Entertainment System history including popular titles such as the obvious origins of our muscled protagonist, Abobo, Double Dragon, as well as Contra or Super Mario Bros., to some unexpected nods including Joust, Xevious or even Yo! Noid. Yo! Noid? That's certainly pulling some material from left field.

It's not all rainbows and unicorns though. Abobo's Big Adventure has a few hills to climb first, and I'll admit while looking for an arguably well designed Flash game, I held low expectations while scouting the field. Abobo's Big Adventure, in a way, voluntarily threw itself into a pretty deep hole from which it had to climb out. Considering it's a Flash game, a fan game, and not to mention a mashup of officially released IPs, essentially rendering it void of originality, it was obvious the game was going to have to come out of the gate swinging or face bitter embarrassment for all eternity. As far as Flash games go, there are quality games out there; not many, but enough to give unknown Flash titles the benefit of the doubt. When it comes to fan games and mashups, however, things can get a bit sketchier. Very few, if any fan games are honestly worth anyone's time. That's not to belittle the creators, but they're usually products of learning coding, a shortcut to quickly pop out a game, a lack of artistic talent causing the developer to fall back on ripping graphics from other IPs, or general lack of creativity on the developer's part. That being said, there are some decent fan games out there. SMBX: The Invasion 2 comes to mind, though it's not without its flaws, as does I Wanna Be the Guy - although IWBTG being a fan game is clearly debatable since the amount of original content far outweighs the derivative content. Point is, casting all fan games into the categorical pit of hell without a shred of regret is a bit harsh. It's intriguing the two aforementioned games were chosen for comparison since both of them tie in with the third area of concern: mashups. Consider it serendipitous. Obviously, I Wanna Be the Guy plays this up more so than The Invasion 2, but in either case, I found it works.

Abobo's Big Adventure in many respects reminds me of I Wanna Be the Guy, but there's obvious disconnect between the two games on a multitude of levels. To compare them apples to apples is pointless because mechanically and stylistically they couldn't be further apart. Therefore, outside of its mashup utilization quality any sort of comparison is pretty much for naught. But that's the key: pulling resources from a bevy of games and tossing them all into the pot, except Abobo's Big Adventure likely used a witch's cauldron to fit all of its borrowed materials. The fear with this approach, however, is chaos and quickly reading up on the game, chaos loomed as a serious potential threat. Just looking at the splash screen on the game's website, it's easy to pick out Piranha Plants, as well as a Cheep Cheep and Trouter from the Mario franchise, but there's more: Kirby, Bub from Bubble Bobble, a Blue Virus from Dr. Mario, and a Big Fish and Penpen Maker from Mega Man 2 and 3 respectively. That's just to name a few. There's far more sprites tossed into that pile of Abobo's rampant genocide, but that's enough to gauge a base line as far as limits, or lack thereof, when it comes to IP inclusion.

Perhaps one can look at the above list and imagine a prospective platformer. It's possible. While Bub and a Blue Virus may hamper the idea slightly, it's still theoretically possible. And that's the magic of Abobo's Big Adventure. The game not only took these sprites, but took so much more: backgrounds, music, play mechanics and somehow conjured a well crafted hash of everything Nintendo in all its 80s glory. Whether you're punching the daylights out of White Spy in Double Dragon's Mission I, spitting Cheep Cheeps at a Lantern Fish in Super Mario Bros.'s funky underwater physics, defeating the Grim Reaper in a lovable twin-ballooned romp, or cutting Ryu down to size as you climb the Waterfall, it somehow all works. Unlike the expected, and almost certain chaos, the developer's meticulous planning of where, when, and how is easily sensed and appreciated. Even when something appears to be wildly out of place, for example the Goombas slowly ambling across Mission I, little Excitebike riders plummeting to their doom, but not before attempting to burst Abobo's balloons, or gunning down a hovering SOPHIA in Quick Man's stage, the context can be rationalized given how the gameplay mechanics differ from one stage to the next. Would this work in a beat 'em up stage or in a run 'n gun environment? Every sprite is carefully adapted into their new environs and as such nothing ever detracts from the given mechanic for that stage which I applaud because, yes, there are a number of weird choices given their natural habitats in terms of original mechanics.

However, while most stages worked, especially the Zelda and Balloon Fight parodies, the Mario stage felt clumsy. Abobo's marriage with SMB-styled water physics and Yoshi's tongue really marred what was otherwise a well made mashup. It's very possible the controls are to blame for this level's wonky execution since the controls seemed backwards for this one stage compared to the rest of the game. In fact, I kept going back and forth regarding where I wanted my "A" and "S" buttons mapped on my controller. Every other stage felt natural - just with fidgety control issues common to most Flash and/or fan games that can be easily overlooked considering - but for this one stage I was desperately fighting the controls no matter how I mapped them. As such, any potential enjoyment out of a Bubble Man and SMB water pairing fell flat. I loved the premise of the pair as it may have been one of the most accessible in the entire game, but frustration of the controls ruined the experience for me.

Other instances of dubiousness included the Pro Wrestling stage but that's only because I'm unfamiliar with the original title. Fortunately, I'm familiar with WWF Wrestlemania and the two games appear to be extremely similar. Still, most of my issues with this stage likely stemmed from a lack of fore knowledge, at least enough to ascertain quirks between the original and Abobo's reinterpretation and whether or not my struggles with the mechanics were simply down to bad reinvention. Albeit, once I started replaying levels in hopes of churning out any of the missing achievements, or medals as they're called here, I grew accustomed to Pro Wrestling's stiff and somewhat latent controls.

My biggest bout of frustration came from the final stage, but only because, like Pro Wrestling, I've never played Mike Tyson's Punch Out!! The game has just never appealed to me despite the praise it receives from nearly every retro gamer under the sun. I got all the boxing excitement I've ever needed from a video game from either Boxing on the 2600 or Boxing on the Intellivision to last me a lifetime. Sure, those may both be cringe-worthy titles to be throwing about, but I enjoyed them for the short amount of time I played them and they handled all my boxing needs. Street cred, which I believe is what Mike Tyson's Punch Out!! thrives on more than anything, isn't enough to warrant casual perusal. Nevertheless, my lack of familiarity with the game proved to be my downfall. Again, much like Pro Wrestling, I'm uncertain how faithful the controls are as I have no benchmark. And, once again, like Pro Wrestling, the controls felt incredibly stiff and overridden with a ridiculous amount of latency. But somehow, despite heavily emphasizing reflexes, I imagine the controls in the original game being just as slow and stubborn as they are here. Because of this, I felt like I truly had nothing to blame save my own skill, and boy did it take a beating.

Thanks to Contra's push to enter the Konami code to survive the hells of the Jungle and the Waterfall, I had more than enough lives to go around by the time I had to face off againt Little Mac. But all the lives in the world couldn't spare me the embarrassment of being K.O.d before the end of the first round. I think once I made it to the second round by mere survival, but failed to ever take Little Mac down even a single time. My dodges were slow, my punches ill-timed, and my overall method sloppy. My reliance on reflexes were daftly traded for button mashing after several rounds of ire, which only made things worse since Mike Tyson's Punch Out!! doesn't even remotely rely on any sort of button mashing. But that's the magic of frustration - pitting us into a hopeless downward spiral from which we'll never recover...until you walk away and take a breather that is. Down to my final life, that's exactly what I did. If there was a way to skip all the cutscene garbage before the final level, like you can in the entire rest of the game, a game over would have mattered naught to me; otherwise, I wasn't going down without a fight.

In a final act of desperation, when a hero is in their darkest hour, that tiny spark of hope and determination blossomed as it always does if every story ever is to be believed and I'll be damned but I buried that son of bitch as I looked death in the eye. I was out of my chair screaming in excitement that I bested that motherfucker when up to this point I was lucky if I landed more than a couple spectacular punches. I'm not just talking about phase one either. I somehow plowed through both phases with enough grit and determination to make even the most hard bitten cowboy proud. I'd liken the level of victory to that when I finally beat the clock in Fable's stupid card sorting debacle. It's interesting to think what sort of challenges manage to exude such celebration. Though, to be fair, Abobo's Big Adventure duly deserves it seeing how it awarded my efforts with a beautiful yet tragically depressing end sequence. Oh, Abobo. How can you be so cruel?

It'd be hard to pin down the best parts of the game. For sure, as I mentioned earlier, the Zelda and Balloon Fight segments would rank up there, though bias might play into that. Although, to credit bias for the Balloon Fight stage isn't actually possible considering my first real experience with the game is NES Remix. I've always been aware of the game. I've just never had a chance to play it, and based on initial reactions after buying Astro Robo Sasa for the Famicom a couple years back, which has very similar physics, I had a feeling I'd enjoy it should the chance ever arise. It just took a couple of quirky titles for that chance to finally rear its head. Then of course there's stages based on Mega Man 2, Double Dragon, and even Urban Champion, which is not without its charm. But the highlight has got to be the Contra levels. Everything meshes together so perfectly and the Kirby battles are well done. The first battle can be slightly bemoaned for having some blind spots, but given the awesomeness of the battle, I don't even care, nor should anyone else.

Again, maybe it's nostalgia for Contra, a game I haven't played in god knows how many years, but these two stages is where the overall game just comes together and seamlessly fits like a glove. Yet out of all the levels, there's probably more kooky cameos going on than anywhere else in the game: Rambo, RoboCop, Jason Voorhees, the Toxic Avenger - it's like all of Nintendo's IPs original based on movies found their home in the jungles of Galuga. Surprised the likes of the Terminator, Bill & Ted, John McClane, Max Rockatansky, Wayne Campbell, Conan, and Willow, among many others, failed to make appearances here, though I suppose Jaws broke the mold by appearing elsewhere. To be fair, some of the other stages have outlandish cameos as well, but none of them seem to be as focused as Contra's in the variety of oddballs that somehow seem to belong together.

Despite taking issue with the controls at times, the game is brilliant and considering it hits up all three of gaming's black marks, it pulls through victoriously. I'd only ever recommend a Flash game solely for a good laugh or its poignant representation of gaming irony - Super Press Space to Win Adventure RPG 2009, anyone? - but Abobo's Big Adventure is so much more than a simple Flash game. It's more than a simple fan game for that matter. The game has far exceeded my expectations, considering its roots in gaming mediocrity. Hell, even disregarding its connection with the blasé, the game has impressed me immensely. As such, I can't help but imagine what the game could have been had it been coded outside of the Flash medium. Perhaps it would be no different. After all Flash can be a powerful tool in the right hands as this game certainly proved. Still....

Verdict? I would gladly recommend Abobo's Big Adventure to any avid gamer, in fact I already have, and especially name it a must play to any die hard NES enthusiast. Kudos to the developers for proving that not all Flash/fan/or mashups have to be detestable garbage clogging up the internet for the sole purpose of YouTube poops or bored Let's Players. And kudos for taking the time to make a quality piece of work out of what could have easily been a tragically, chaotic hodgepodge of 8-bit memories.

Nano-Win:

Bonus content starring Falcor!? Are you fucking kidding me!? Why has this never been a thing until now!?

Seriously, how has such a game, no matter the genre - though Falcor's Fast Food style antics found here are just epic - never been made? It should have been a lock. What the hell, Konamis and Capcoms, Sunsofts and Taitos, Bandais and FCIs of the 80s? What the hell LJN? You saw too it that every other movie was made into a game by one of your many marionette developers. Why not something that actually would have made for a brilliant game for once? Why'd it take nearly 30 years before a group of guys making a fan game finally decided to make this happen? I suppose the difference in years can be to blame although movie games existed on the 2600 as well - Porky's....what? But come on, the Blue Brothers got a game and that came out in 1980, so...no excuse.

Rating: 4 sharks with frickin' laser beams attached to their heads out of 5*

*Ok, a bit outside NES fare, but given the context of the situation, it's just so fitting.

GEN - Ecco the Dolphin

Haiku-Review:

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

Additional Comments:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nano-Rant:

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

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

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

N64 - Paper Mario

Haiku-Review:

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

Additional Comments:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nano-Rant(s):

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

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

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

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

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

Rating: 3 giant tuna out of 5*

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

PSP - Me & My Katamari

Haiku-Review:

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

Additional Comments:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nano-Win:

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

Rating: 3.5 intelligences out of 5

NES - Mega Man 3

Haiku-Review:

new robots, new slide
with hopes to defeat Wily -
bow before Top Spin

Additional Comments:

Time to start the year off right. Besides, I can't believe it's been as long as it has since I dusted off Mega Man 2.

Without a doubt, Mega Man 3 is my all time favorite game in the proper 8-bit Mega Man franchise. In fact, I still consider it my second favorite NES game of all time. Most Mega Man fans may look at me with a crook eye - how could I ever award Mega Man 3 with such accolades when Mega Man 2 is the obvious crown of the series? In my opinion, it's not, though it's great nonetheless. For me, the third installment just did everything right. Mechanics, creativity, and modest improvements without deviating too far from what made the first two games brilliant - well, at least the second game brilliant. And while the fourth installment followed suit...well, let's not get ahead of ourselves.

The funny thing about the Mega Man series, more so than any other series, is that I've always felt innovation is unwarranted. The series struck gold with its initial idea, refined it with it's sequel, and creamed it out of the park with part three, all while staying relatively true to it's original formula. Six titles - eight if you include Mega Man 9 and 10 (nine if you also include Street Fighter x Mega Man, though it's a stretch on principle), and they're pretty much all the same recycled, hard as balls platforming madness to take down a variety of robot masters and then trek through Wily's Skull Castle making use of all your new found items and power-ups. Yet, unlike any other series, there's something about rehashing the same old stuff over and over again that feels right. I've played very few if any Mega Man games beyond the 8-bit originals because I just can't accept any of the change that has taken place. The games feel off whenever I attempt them. RockMan and Forte may be the only non-8-bit Mega Man game I've ever had confidence in since it attempts to cling to its roots while still branching out into the wild blue yonder with hopeful individuality. Interesting, considering both 7 and 8's obvious voluntary aloofness from the original six while still trying to claim to be "just one of the guys." You're not fooling anyone SNES and/or PlayStation advancements. Point is, unlike most games out there, Mega Man feels so at home recycling the same 8-bit platforming hell over and over again. It's what us old school gamers wanted back in the day and it was only further justified by Capcom's release of Mega Man 9 and 10 years, and I mean years, later.

Looking back, I have two unique memories of Mega Man 3. The first being when I was first introduced to the game, alongside Mega Man 2 and Bad Dudes. I was instantly hooked on all three, but Mega Man 3 is the one that impacted me the most. While differences between Mega Man 2 and 3 are nominal - one could argue Mega Man 2 is far easier, and I for one would make that argument or Mega Man 3's slide brought forth a whole new dynamic to our hero's relatively rigid physics - the driving force behind Mega Man 3's fast lane to fame is the Doc Robot stages. Those stages blew my fucking mind the first time I played them. Not only did they add additional content between the eight robot masters and Dr. Wily's fortress of pain, but they did something that I've always been a fan of: restructuring a level that offers a whole new experience while still maintaining the original intention of the given design to the point where deviations are clearly noticeable, but warranted. Yet, despite any amount of architectural hocus pocus, the original layout can still be seen every step of the way. Better yet, the use of foreshadowing, unbeknownst at the time, is the bees knees. Case in point: the Giant Metalls enclosed in Needle Man's stage eventually become a very real threat later on down the road. The integration of the giant Mets, as decoration in Needle Man's stage and as enemies in Doc Robot's revisited stage cemented my love for the Doc Robot stages. In some respects, they were Mega Man 3's hard mode - reinterpreting what we've already seen but now throwing everything they can forcing us to make full use of Rush and if need be, the various powers we've acquired up to this point. After all, Heat Man is no longer the pushover he used to be. Somebody seriously upgraded their aiming capabilities since our last encounter. Sheesh.

But I've wandered and I've yet to hit on my second intriguing recollection of Mega Man 3 from some 20-odd years ago: the game's inclusion on Video Power. There's very little I remember of the show  nowadays (I vaguely recall seeing DuckTales and Paperboy being represented as well; any others and it's a seriously foggy blur), but I remember watching kids struggle through Top Man's stage on multiple occasions, and they all sucked at it. I loved it because one of my newly found favorite NES games was being represented, but I'd always find myself cringing out of frustration as these kids clumsily worked their way through what is easily the most accessible stage in the game. Hmm, no wonder Top Man was always the stage to represent the game. If anything, Mega Man 3, vis-à-vis Top Man, is the sole reason why I even have the slightest memory of Video Power. Otherwise, it'd disappear into a fog of 90s youth.

With that, I've yet to discuss my latest playthough, but then again, there's little to talk about. That is, there's little to say that I haven't said before, either for Mega Man 2, or already remarked here. My latest playthrough neither affected my perceptions of the game negatively nor positively. Seriously? Not even positively? Some may suspect this to be the beginning of Mega Man 3's undoing but I beg to differ. After all, Mega Man 3 is my second favorite NES game of all time; only to be outshone by SMB3. In my view, there's little room for improvement, and to be frank, I doubt I'll ever chance across a game that can dare topple the preeminence of Mario and the mystery of Kuribo's shoe. For me, Mega Man 3 has nothing to prove, so if anything, it can only falter from here on out. And from my latest experience, the game has shown no signs of slowing down. Unlike other faves of yesteryear - games like Dark Cloud and Faxanadu - Mega Man 3 has kept up its end of the bargain all these years later. It's still a tough as nails platformer and still retains all the excitement and pizzazz that it established so long ago. Akin to SMB3 or the Genesis-era Sonic games, it's a game in which I have an unwavering trust knowing that no matter how much time passes, it will still be just as exhilarating as the first time I played it.

My only true takeaway from my latest run is that I've definitely fallen out of practice with the game. Being that it's been roughly 10-12 years since I last played the game seriously, my ability to face each of the robot masters has sadly waned. Unlike Mega Man and Mega Man 2, I failed to tackle each with just the P Buster. Believe me, I tried, and tried, and eventually after so many deaths; seeing their health bars a mere one or two bars away from victory over and over again, I caved. And like I said, even the Doc Robot Mega Man 2 clones upped the ante, or so it seemed. Though I managed all of them much easier than the robot master newcomers. Ah well.

With so little too say other than incessant accolades, I suppose it's only time to move on to the next game, but before I do, it's only proper to give credit to yet another captivating soundtrack from Capcom. It's possible to consider it yet another notch on the belt as to why I feel Mega Man 3 is the pinnacle of the series. Though it's hard to say which game has the truly superior soundtrack: 2 or 3. I believe a worthy case can be made for either, however, the series never retained the sense of aural magnificence thereafter. The following games have some incredible tunes, no doubt about it, but they never had the full package so to say. Instead of memorable melody after memorable melody, the latter games began to suffer from filler. Maybe I'm just not as familiar with them. I doubt it. But on the other hand, classics like Gemini Man Stage, Needle Man Stage (dat bass riff is win!), Snake Man Stage, Wily Fortress 2, and Ending Theme (one of the greatest ending themes mixing solid accomplishment with a sense of relief - the perfect medicine after facing such an incredible challenge) prove the merit of Mega Man 3's incredible soundtrack. Honestly, there isn't a track I could purposely sweep under the rug to help accentuate my claims. Every single track is pure listening gold.

For those looking for an introduction into the world of 8-bit Mega Man, like most people, I'd probably suggest Mega Man 2 mainly because it's the easiest to acclimate a new player into the highly technological world of the Blue Bomber. However, I'd likely do so with a warning saying the Mega Man will properly introduce you into the franchise, but to get the best out of the series, play Mega Man 3. I know many would wholeheartedly disagree with me, seeing that Mega Man 2 continues to be the perennial favorite among gamers, but I've always found it to be merely the perfect predecessor to the title that forces you to put your game face on, and love Capcom for making you do it - even while you try and fake a smile while having to use Hard Knuckle ad nauseum to take out Wily's hardiest of machinery. Could be worse. Could be countless reliance on Top Spin - Mega Man's lamest accoutrement since Time Stopper...or possibly ever.

Nano-Relief:

I'll be damned. That's what Gamma is. For the twenty plus years that I've owned this game, I've unfortunately only ever owned the cartridge and very well may have missed out on any clues from the accompanying manual. As a result, I've been scratching my head over the specifics of Gamma ever since. Thank you, Mega Man Knowledge Base, for finally clearing that up after all these years.

Rating: 5 Junk Golems out of 5*

*Quite possibly the strangest looking creation to ever grace a Mega Man title.

Yearly End Thing

The plan is to make this short and sweet, but I can't do so without first acknowledging my downward trend has at long last been overturned. 25 games completed; up from a miserable 11. I'll take it. And with that, I can return to the web-wide cliché of ten for my year end listing. Huzzah!

10. Sorcery
-An impressive little gem from the Amstrad CPC that has decided to rebel against all known door/key logic. *Shakes fist in a fit of fury*

9. F-Zero
-A classic and absolute must own for any game enthusiast. With perhaps the exception of Super Mario Kart, F-Zero is the definitive racing game of the SNES, and quite possibly the whole 16-bit era.

8. Destruction Derby 2
-From one racing game to another, the Destruction Derby series rewrote the rules when it came to automobile mayhem and Destruction Derby 2 refined that chaos into pure beauty. Bumping and grinding now resulted in dire consequences, or often is the case here: wrecking points.

7. Max: The Curse of Brotherhood
-I found out a predecessor existed for this game on Wii Ware just yesterday called Max and the Magic Marker. The Curse of Brotherhood suddenly makes so much more sense to me now.

6. Super Mario Land 2: 6 Golden Coins
-Similar to Link's Awakening offering more Link to the Past styled goodness, SML2 offered more SMW styled goodness for those of us who wanted it - at least more so than Yoshi's Island or Super Mario 64 ever dared to.

5. Sonic the Hedgehog 2
-If I need to explain myself, I feel sorry for you, the reader. If anything, I should be explaining why it isn't higher than 5th, but I played a bevy of great games this year.

4. Super Mario World 2: Yoshi's Island
-What's always amazed me about this game is the sheer leap in platforming dynamics from Super Mario World to this. Too bad Yoshi played protagonist, but fortunately it all worked out in the end. Although, it would have worked even better if the game was simply titled, Yoshi's Island without the nod to SMW. Meh.

3.Baldur' s Gate: Dark Alliance II
-I finished this in 2014? Sheesh... It feels as though years have passed since I knocked this out. However, my memories of the game are nothing but hack n' slash goodness; so much so that I'm damn near tempted to play it again.

2. Dust: An Elysian Tail
-Every now and then, a game comes along and changes my perception on a given genre. Much like the Touhou series taught me the joys of STGs, Dust taught me that Metroidvania games are actually pretty damn enjoyable when done right.

1. Guacamelee! Super Turbo Championship Edition
-Another indie title takes top spot. Should it be any surprise by now? Guacamelee is pure platforming bliss with the perfect dose of aggravating difficulty. ¡Olé!

SNES - Super Mario World 2: Yoshi's Island

Haiku-Review:

stars, coins, and flowers:
mustn't forget to keep tabs
damn! I missed a coin!

Additional Comments:

A novel post for several reason I suspect. Recollections of my post on Super Mario World, I found myself troubled over where to go considering the Mario timeline was completely blown open at this point. Yoshi's Island claims to be representative of the Super Mario World nomenclature, which in turn claims to be the Super Mario Bros. named follow-up if the beta and Japanese variants are to be trusted. So does that make Yoshi's Island Super Mario Bros. 5? Hmm... But then, the protagonist is that stupid horse introduced in the first "World" title and all his multicolored friends. Bleagh. A more appropriate follow up would surely be Super Mario 64...but wait! I don't care what anyone says or believes; I'll be damned if I ever consent to that 3-D "revolution" bullshit to dare ingratiate itself as a proper Mario platformer alongside 2-D Mario royalty. However, canon-wise, it's far more fitting than the tale of wee little Mario and the stork, or how Kamek nearly shattered the Mario family before they even had a chance to be.

As an interesting aside, at long last we are given a quick and interesting glimpse into the history of the Marios. And here I always thought the Mario brothers originally hail from Brooklyn, New York only to be whisked away to the fantasy realm of sentient fungi, yet it seems in childhood they lived in the Mushroom Kingdom. So...at some point they were inadvertently transported to the Big Apple only to eventually be swept back into the furor of their so-called old country? It's all a sizable pill to swallow, but ok, sure. Why not? And as an additional aside, I've always found it odd that they're the Mario brothers yet Mario's name is Mario which means his name is Mario Mario? Again, why not?

Point is, even while side-stepping typical Mario fare, Yoshi's Island won the opportunity to continue what should now be dubbed, Christmas with the Plumbers - or in this case, Plumbers-to-be. Despite it's obvious departure in format, it's clearly labeled as Super Mario World 2, although Nintendo did pull the same idiotic name format with Super Mario Land 3: Wario Land only to continue the series as the Wario Land series. But I digress, Additionally, Yoshi's Island can be considered a bit of a hallmark post as it's the first game to be examined twice here on Beat All Games; briefly critiqued by Sven a few years back. I wouldn't consider it a trend, however, as I doubt I'll venture into any of the other games he remarked upon during his tenure here.

Yoshi's Island, to me, stirs up memories of Zelda II. Clearly these are games that belong in their respective franchises, however having deviated so much from the known format, it feels off-putting to consider it as such when rating them as failures or successes. Instead, their achievements have to be carefully weighed within their respective genre. Following proper canon and abiding by the expected is clearly thrown out the window. Yoshi's Island, however, rewrote the book on 2-D Mario preconceptions. If anything, it's a spin-off. That's the simplest way of describing the game. Mario takes a backseat while his old, but new, er...unknown dinosaur pal takes the spotlight.

When I first learned of Yoshi's Island - another game that cleverly eluded my knowledge of the SNES library for so many years - I was floored just knowing its existence was a thing, My jubilation over the matter was unmatched. If memory serves, I got the game, along with several others, when I picked up a replacement Super Nintendo - something Sven and I have joked about over the years as I essentially bought it from a friend in exchange for breakfast. Now that's a sweet deal! Other than Mario Kart, which also came in the video game-breakfast trade, Yoshi's Island was the first game I threw in. Besides the relief and joy of finally clicking over the power button on an SNES again - something I hadn't enjoyed for several years since my previous one bit the dust - I was filled with ecstatic mysterious waiting to behold the sequel to Super Mario World.

What is this? I don't even..... Super Mario World 2 my ass!

Sure, there's Yoshi and Shy Guys (a welcomed resurrection from another questionable Mario title) and Magikoopas...oop! I mean Kamek. But good god, this is less Mario than Super Mario 2 was Mario, and that game was a clear detraction of canon. Waves of disappointment swept over me as I had to accept that Super Mario World would never see a true sequel outside of Super Mario 64. Ugh. Except, something funny happened. I realized, while misrepresenting its predecessors, Yoshi's Island was a brilliant platformer - possibly the best platformer on the Super Nintendo. Without a doubt, it's one of the most technically advanced games on the Super Nintendo, but the platforming mechanics are nearly unsurpassed, and that's including some of the stupid moves peculiarly inherited by the local fauna like that goddamn flutter jump that's since become a staple move of Mario's reptilian friend. It serves it's purpose, be it here, Super Smash Bros., or elsewhere, but boy do I hate it.

This explains the common bond between Yoshi's Island and Zelda II. They're both games that seemingly failed within their respective franchise, but succeeded with flying colors as something unique to their respective genres as a whole. Looking back at Sven's post, his initial experience appeared to parallel mine. There's a certain expectation that comes with a name, especially a name that had a solid foundation in four games; five if you include the original Japanese Super Mario Bros. 2. To take such incredible liberties with the name is almost blasphemous and I'm certain many other gamers befell the same disillusionment as Sven and I. If the game was solely called Yoshi's Island, I doubt I'd have even raised an eyebrow. It would be clearly defined as an unique platforming title that shares similarities with a popular franchise. Such a move was taken with games like Mario is Missing or Mario's Time Machine so why not here as well? Perhaps Nintendo didn't want consumers to be confused by associating an obvious spin-off title as crap considering the other Mario spin-offs. In that case, I'll consider it marketing brilliance.

Taking a step back, Yoshi's Island nailed it. I may be playing a weak Mario game, but boy howdy, I'm experiencing platforming excellence. Some of the design gadgetry is simply mouth watering, especially some of the enormous layer three shenanigans. However, there are some glaring issues that have proved their annoyance tenfold time and time again. The largest drag affecting my gaming bliss is baby Mario's grating cries for help. I like the premise of why it's there, or at least I'd like to pretend I do, but why is it so fucking loud? The sense of alarm is appreciated, but his sharp, almost caustic bawling detracts all immediate focus to which I usually start fumbling around like the village idiot out of frightened anxiety. Just tone it down. But he's a baby in distress and high end decibels are to be expected. Except it's a game and a certain breakdown of convention is to also be expected.

The next little chigger in my pants is the collection mechanic. I enjoy a good collection mechanic when properly used and there's an obvious investment in collection appreciation. Banjo-Kazooie comes to mind - what I consider one of the best collection-based games. Somehow, I feel, Yoshi's Island relied on the mechanic a little too heavily, even if it's wholly optional. Looking at other Mario titles, for platforming perspective, Super Mario World has five Yoshi Coins or the NSMB series has three star coins in each level. As a result, you never feel like the collection aspect is overpowering the beauty of engaging platforming. Not saying that Yoshi's Island should only have three red coins, but at times, twenty felt too overwhelming. However, the argument can be made that Yoshi's Island is meant to be enjoyed as a 2-D exploration adventure as opposed to a straightforward point A-to-point B adventure, and that's true. Only, it becomes muddled at times and you start to lose focus on why you should be enjoying the game. I think the real root of my issue is the thirty stars since they blur the lines of the collection mechanic. A dynamic collectible, which additionally operates as a health timer, feels horribly wrong. I can easily accept five flowers and twenty red coins and the overall essence of exploration over a run-and-gun mentality but why am I having to ensure what's essentially a health bar be maximized by level's end? It's a lot of mixed signals.

And finally, the inconsistencies with collision boxes bothers me at time. Although, I'll admit that when I first played the game years ago, I doubt I ever took notice of the disparity throughout. Instead, this is a recent complaint that reared its head after taking a crack at YI hacking for a collab hack over at SMWC - which, by the way, is the real reason Yoshi's Island was gifted my holiday post over titles like SM64 or SMB2j. As I became more intimate with the game on a technical level as opposed to a casual level, I became more aware of strange anomalies throughout. I was immediately perturbed by the various oddities among hitboxes, especially the monkeys. Monkey hitboxes are pure anarchy. So, I can't be hurt, but Mario can be nabbed, but wait...the swinging monkeys can hurt me, but I can't swallow them, that is unless I break them apart by being hurt at which point they'll no longer hurt me. Make up your mind you stupid monkeys!

Grievances aside,I doubt there's anything that can make me reconsider my standing on the game. A Mario game it is not, as I've stated multiple times already. However, it's one of the greatest platformers out there and it's a shame the game wasn't heavily pushed when it came out. Like I said, I had no idea such a game existed till years later.

The greatest improvement in Yoshi's Island, if we are to consider it a sequel to SMW, is the boss fights. Twelve unique battles - thirteen if you count both phases of Bowser - and they're all fantastic. Unlike SMW's, which after all these years feel uninspired, YI's bosses have a real sense of purpose and imagination. There's a reason why they behave in such a way, why they're subject to their specific weaknesses, and why their methods of defeat are not the same across the board. There's ingenuity in each boss, and each one offers the player to exploit a unique mechanic of either Yoshi or the game itself instead of simply relying on pounding their adversaries' heads into the ground, or in Yoshi's case, tossing eggs at every living thing. My personal favorite battle has always been Raphael the Raven's. Eh, let me reword that. I've never really enjoyed the actual play of the battle, but the premise and mechanics of the entire sequence is just magical. The same could be said for Bowser's second phase. I don't particularly enjoy playing it, but the whole concept of the battle is fantastic and it comes across as Nintendo pulling out all the stops - from the scenery, to the music, to the battle itself. It all comes together and forms the perfect, epic, end-all beat-all extravaganza.

So what of the music elsewhere in the game? I love the music in the game. It's lighthearted and joyous except when it needs to emote mood or tension, which it does so with flying colors. My personal favorite is Ending, although Room Before Boss, Athletic, and Yoshi's Island are all close contenders. There's just something about that end theme though - a certain quaint relief with a hint of sentimentality that's unfortunately poorly expressed in most of the sappier game music out there. Can only pin that down to the sheer captivation of Kondo's musical prowess.

Nano-Rant:

Sven wasn't kidding. World 2's extra level is balls hard. What's weird though is that it's the most difficult of the six extra levels. Heck, Extra 6 was a walk in the park compared to Extra 2. The amount of deaths suffered in Extra 2 were greater than the entire rest of the game combined and that's before trying to 100% the son of a bitch. The slightest hesitation between the jump-duck section of the rail spelled doom; maybe not immediately, but by the next switch - hello infinite emptiness below! Also, it wasn't until after I finished the game completely and went back and watched a video of the level that I realized there's a pipe to the left of the start. What bullshit is that!? I was so pissed the first time I managed to get all the red coins and flowers only to find out I had completely forgotten about stars. Stars? Where the hell do you get stars in this near-kaizo atrocity? I honestly believed you had to rely on bonus star items in this level which I felt was an additional slap in the face just because, why not? The frustration I felt during the course of the level was high enough, but barely matched the unquenchable rage that coursed through my veins when I learned there was a secret room after the fact. Fuck you, Extra 2!!!

Rating: 5 non-Italian "Italian" plumbers out of 5

ARC - Saint Dragon

Haiku-Review:

steel dragon in space,
unleashes a bullet spread
and fights congestion

Additional Comments:

I've been wanting to hit up another arcade game for some time but always found my attention drawn elsewhere, or simply never found a title that excited me. Maybe apathy just got the better of me every time I'd dare a venture in arcade territory. I love arcade games, but at the same time I feel like there's a certain air of condescension surrounding them - kind of like PC games. PC games are for the "true" gamers, arcade games are, or were, for the "hardcore" gamers, and us console gamers, well, we're just the unwanted runts on the family tree - the huddled masses, if you will. As such, I always feel like I'm wading out into the forbidden zone or like I need to successfully pass through some ridiculous hazing before I can accept the pure gaming bliss of the arcade menagerie. But then, once I buckle down and play one of these arrogant pricks, I question why I originally believed my will crumbled under the might of cabinetry, even if it's emulated cabinetry.

To date, including Saint Dragon, I've only completed four arcade titles for Beat All Games, however, I've yet to be proven the might of these titles, albeit I will concede that a majority of my arcade experiences are not for the faint of heart, especially Saint Dragon. Since my love for STGs has blossomed, I've played some ungodly difficult games. What is it about shmups and hardcore action that goes so easily hand in hand. When it comes to difficulty, Saint Dragon is no slouch. The first half of the game is more than doable, though the bosses up the ante a bit, but the second half of the game comes out swinging. But they seem to come out swinging with a suitcase full of dirty tricks - looking at you level six.

Before I berate level six's close quarter's claustrophobic action, let me see if I can scale up to the issue targeting several key areas along the way. Upon diving into the game headfirst, that is after diving headfirst into the dizzying options and help logs surrounding MAME since it's been a couple years since I've used it and I've forgotten a number of ins and outs concerning the emulator, I found Saint Dragon surprisingly...easy. In fact, the first level seemed sickeningly easy. What's the catch? For being labeled as a tough as nails shmup, based on my minimal internet research, something felt off. Even after I inadvertently smacked the ground, thus killing myself, or foolishly ran headlong into a stray bullet, I was shocked by the good graces of the game to dump me further afield. Seriously, I don't have to start from the beginning again and I get to keep all my weapons. Are you kidding me - even continuing after a loss of credit I get to reap the fortunes of such generosity? Challenge averted it seems. Oh, how naïve could I be?

I was quickly put in in my place as I studied the first boss's movements, as I awkwardly suffered a thousand deaths. The fear further intensified as I struggled to understand the third level's boss, or lack thereof. As I've stated before (ahem, Baldur's Gate: Dark Alliance anyone?), long corridors of calm relaxation following heart pounding action always creates an eerie unease. But wait.... Was that..? Is that..? Was that the boss? That's a rather odd turn of events, especially after level two's boss which stood up against an incredible volley of firepower. Sadly, no. I've read there is a boss to level three, but for reasons unknown, he can be coerced into not triggering. Um, ok. Just because he chickened out, it's not my problem. Too bad some of the latter jerk-offs didn't feel like taking a holiday as well.

Of all the levels, four stuck out as an anomaly, playing rebel to typical theory regarding casual difficulty flow. It was strangely unbalanced placing extreme emphasis on the level while half-assing the boss, to the point where I genuinely questioned whether the boss was indeed the boss or not. However, given level three's mysterious, boss-less run through a pride of laser-emitting tram cars, hunkering behind a blockade of damn near invulnerable space junkards seemed like nothing more than another aloof boss replacement. This hypothesis was further reinforced by how little room was left for proper maneuverability as well as the sheer amount of time spent navigating around those insufferable behemoths. After fighting tooth and nail through wave after wave of enemy fire while being constricted to such tight quarters, I was shocked to see a proper boss appear. Seriously, the end gauntlet was equal to any other level in length easily, or perhaps it only seemed so considering how many theoretical quarters I had to feed the machine to finally get through the area. But then, the boss was such a pushover. What the hell!? Considering the atrocities I faced just getting there, I suppose I should only feel an overwhelming sense of alleviation, but come on.

Level five fell into a similar trap - a level, while certainly unique, pushed the player through some seriously tough areas but then fell short when it came to the boss. However, I will admit that most of level five's difficulty may have been artificially created since I couldn't enjoy the game using a true arcade style joystick. I only bring this up because the key specialty weapon for level five can be aimed using the main directional controls, which is great, but I feel comes off a little spongy using a simple d-pad on my usb controller. Ah well.

And with that, we come full circle to Saint Dragon's final level - a balls hard trek through space age Armageddon. What really grates my nerves about this level is the various walls you need to shoot your way through in order to advance. Unless you're packed with an appropriate special weapon, which isn't exactly difficult to bungle, the task is nothing more than a study in futility. Unfortunately, unless you purposefully go out of your way to avoid the special weapon that can be manually aimed, you're in no better shape when it comes to necessary demolition. Trying to avoid all of the extraneous homing missiles invariable leads to meticulous maneuvers that will reroute all of your desired aiming - i.e. I found myself performing embarrassing face plants more than anything. One particular grouping of walls proved to be the most diabolical area in the whole game where I may have easily lodged over a hundred deaths, and I swear, obtaining that stupid ass special weapon which was placed ever so conveniently right in the fucking way caused more deaths than anything. With the close proximity of each door to each other, I knew I was finished if my good old reliable fire breath was suddenly repudiated by supposedly superior weaponry. Fuck it! Throw in a few hundred more theoretical quarters. What's the harm. Thankfully it no longer impacts my wallet like it would have back in the golden age of arcades. Truth be told, I would have just walked away and instead fed my small bounty of coins on either Virtua Racing or Turtles in Time.

Still, Saint Dragon was a fun little side-scrolling STG - when I wasn't pulling my hair out over ridiculously unfair areas that is. But for the most part, the heinous difficulty is part of the fun, and for the most part I enjoyed it. In all honesty, the final level is the only level I probably could have done without. I had the same thoughts about the final boss at first, but once I got past his initial pattern, I really have no problems with him...er, it? Not sure.Whatever the case, it suffered from some of the same claustrophobia that most, if not all, of the final level suffered from, but only for the first few seconds of battle. Again, far too many projectiles with little to no room to hide. I suppose it's the final boss, but still, that's no reason for potential leniency. There's a distinct difference between difficult but fair and difficult and unfair. Cramped spaces and maximum firepower unfortunately leans on the latter.

And finally, for good measure, some music. I didn't find the soundtrack memorable, and this particular example: Metal Planet, can attest to that. If it wasn't for the fact that the video reads Saint Dragon (Arcade), I'd never guess this theme was in the game, despite playing through the final third of the first level multiple times because I kept dying on the boss. Unmemorable music is unmemorable, but then, shooters have always had an uncanny ability to mask a lot of the background music with an incredible sound explosion of incessant firepower.

Nano-Rant:

Why is the auto-fire so unbearably slow? Considering how glacial the auto-fire is, one has to question why it was even implemented in the first place. Under no circumstances would anyone rely on such nonsense given how manic the levels become. Useless!!

Rating: 3 metal tigers out of 5

PS1 - Destruction Derby 2

Haiku-Review:

all those pile-ups...
but Ultimate Destruction,
where's the destruction?

Additional Comments:

Everything I can possibly say about this game, I pretty much summed up for the original Destruction Derby, even this game's superiority. Well, perhaps I didn't exactly go into detail, or did I in a rather backhanded way against the original title. Hmm...

Then where to begin? I'll go with tracks as I find this particular area of the game to be the most prominent and apparent change for the better. Unlike Destruction Derby's bland, geometric, cookie-cutter snore fests, Destruction Derby offered up a variety of locales that not only feel unique but organic. In some capacity or another, most of the tracks here feel completely plausible whereas those in the original game feel like they were quickly scrawled on a piece of graph paper - 90° corners here followed by more 90° corners there and voilà: a horrible right angled mess overrun with constrictive straights and a serious lack of imagination. But for a first attempt, I can accept it...to a point.

Now, however, the tracks have inherited flowing corners, proper contours, and the ability to hold the entire field without forcing unwanted congestion unless the design specifically calls for it, as is the case with Chalk Canyon. Constriction is completely permissible, and welcomed, in Chalk Canyon's bottleneck because it's an inherent part of the track's design - a clusterfuck of stunts, jumps, and thrill rides to cause as much mayhem as possible. Sadly, Ultimate Destruction attempted to follow suit but failed in every imaginable way.

While I applaud Destruction Derby 2's tracks, I'm left scratching my head over Ultimate Destruction. Every other track is great. Yes, even Pine Hills Raceway despite it being nothing more than a boring old tri-oval where even the slightest mistake draws massive consequences. But that's the breaks when it comes to momentum tracks. Very rarely could I even manage to crack a top 12, and typically I'd just consider it a throwaway race; even when it comes to Wrecking mode, but more on that later. Getting back to Ultimate Destruction, the track is a menace, and not in the inviting smash 'em, crash 'em action we're promised. Despite having a ghastly layout comprised of tight turns, narrow straights, crossovers, and a couple serious jumps, this track is garbage. Never mind it being horrible to drive, especially if you accidentally take the left fork at the first split - good luck getting through those narrow twists unscathed and at speed - the track is remarkably existing under false pretenses. For as many times as I've played this game, both now for Beat All Games, and way back when it first came out and it found its way into my PlayStation possibly more than any other game save perhaps Formula 1 and Sim City 2000, I have never seen more than one, maybe two cars drop out of this race that weren't affected by my own forced ruthlessness. That's equivalent to Pine Hills Raceway, but the small attrition rate is to be expected there - it's a tri-oval. Ultimate Destruction, by namesake alone, is expected to be automobile carnage. I'd expect it to be Red Pike Arena incarnate in racing form, that is, all and all out racing melee. Instead, suddenly everyone becomes recipients of Allstate's safe driver program while I'm left to ricochet from barrier to barrier because the track is so fucking impossible to drive. Of course, I exaggerate. I can make clean laps from Rookie to Pro, but I doubt I'll ever manage a clean race, which I can do anywhere else - yes, even Chalk Canyon.

But it's not racing Ultimate Destruction in Stock Car mode that aggravates me the most. Between Black Sail Valley and Liberty City, it's more than easy enough to pick up the necessary points to just tank Ultimate Destruction if warranted. Ultimate Destruction is the true throwaway race. Congratulations, Pine Hills Raceway, you're actually a better track than what should have been the pinnacle of racing mayhem. In a way, Ultimate Destruction is akin to any of the Rainbow Roads in the various Mario Kart games. They're always overrated layouts that are nothing but a chore to drive yet they're supposed to be the end all beat all climatic joyride of the game. And so it is with Ultimate Destruction in Wrecking mode, or heck, even Death Bowl. What a miserable, asinine layout that thing is. Wrecking mode on Ultimate Destruction - what's the point? Thanks to Wrecking mode's magical, and predictable outcomes and a guarantee that I'll struggle just to skate by with a mere 50 points on this track, it's no wonder I find this track a grave misnomer. Destruction my ass. I'm guaranteed even less points in the final arena because chances are I'm going to be prematurely punted into oblivion. Thank god it's relatively easy to rack up the points in the first three races of the series.

I'm essentially beating a dead horse by this point, so moving on. Since I brought up Wrecking mode's mysterious maths concerning scoring, seems the perfect mechanic to transition to. Much like the first game, I love Stock Car mode, mostly because it's unpredictable. Anyone and everyone has an equal chance of winning any given race except for Learner Driver who is simply a failure at life. Although I vaguely recall years ago whilst playing the game, I actually saw him advance from Division 4 to Division 3. It must have been a result of divine intervention because I swear, given his driving, the programming must have a fail-safe to ensure Learner Driver sucks in every way possible. But that's not the point.

Point is, Stock Car racing is so much more enjoyable to play through because Wrecking mode's easily calculable from the get go. Points appear to be magically pulled from thin air and awarded based on Division as opposed to actual bumping and grinding out on the track. I can only figure this to be a necessary evil because the game can't correctly process all twenty cars at any given notice. Problem is, even if Psycho or The Skum is flipped in the first turn on the first lap with minimal interaction with anybody to cause such an accident, they're still going to miraculously rack up on average 225 points. On the other end of the spectrum, given Learner Driver's inability to steer, brake, or anything remotely driving related, should be bagging all sorts of points because he's doing nothing but running into everything that moves. Instead, he'll be lucky to score 35 points. The system is so broken and as such forces you to play the mode in a rather undesired way. For Division 3 and Division 4, it's easy to just circle the track and with a few easy grazes to outscore the competition, but in Division 1 and Division 2, you need to rethink your approach to the game, especially in Division 1 where you need to average 250 to 300 points in order to outclass everyone. Any sense of racing flies out the window at this point which is, frankly, depressing. Where exactly is the fun in parking the car; hopefully causing a twenty car pileup while the rest of the field gets to race the track knowing full well they're going to be awarded automatic points by race end? There's a definite imbalance in gameplay here. Maybe I'm just missing the point.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy performing head-on collisions, purposefully T-boning my rivals or simply imitating Learner Driver's stupidity but I feel like I'm missing out on the real fun as I watch everyone else zip by, spinning each other out at speed. That's the way Wrecking mode should function if the resulting accolades weren't so predetermined and were more factual to the racing that just occurred. Still, Wrecking mode is a blast to play since it instills a bit more madness in the AI over Stock Car mode. I think one reason the predictable outcomes infuriate me so is that there's a certain increased enjoyment in outpacing the other crumbums when the fight to stay on track becomes a serious point of contention. Too bad I only get a measly 50 point for a win. Might as well stick to my original plan and just park the car either on a sweeping apex or after a nefarious jump - essentially anywhere the AI may unfortunately break loose, tag my car and spin into a furious 720°.

What of the other improvements though? Somehow, I've found myself well off track disparaging an otherwise magnificent game. Besides the much loved and needed track upgrades, another welcome addition is modifying the division count from five to four. This is a massive, and in my opinion, vital change. Five divisions was not only unnecessary overkill, but slightly stripped a heightened sense of competition that becomes very apparent in Destruction Derby 2's increased division pools, even if that increase is only a single driver. Still, racing against four drivers as opposed to three feels far more nerve-wracking. Those podium positions are all the more important if the art of probability comes into play. Not only that, but it cuts down on the tedium of play tenfold. Four seasons, give or take a few seasons depending on promotion or rather, lack thereof, is perfect for a single spurt of gameplay. Destruction Derby's minimum of five seasons, however, dragged the game down - akin to slogging through thick, viscous mud in heavy denim. The misery.

Another welcome change - well, welcome may not be the best may to describe it. Expected? I'd call it questionable considering its replacement, but nonetheless gracious at least some sort of change was enacted. The pointless Destruction Derby mode from the first game has been replaced with the more heart-attack inducing Total Destruction. The obvious benefit: no longer do I have to sit through an entire season of single arena devastation. Instead, I can suffer through thirty seconds of all-out warfare upon the player. Holy shit! The AI have been reprogrammed with seek and destroy directives against me, and only me. What's the fun in that? I get that it's pure survivalist mode in all its glory, but it emphasizes survival over destruction. I find that it discredits the intent of the game. A better alternative, now that four arenas exist, that is if you choose to call Death Bowl worthy of the name, arena, they could have kept the original Destruction Derby mode model. Key difference is this time it would have worked because there's a quality of individuality among each arena instead of using the same boring circle over and over.

All in all, Destruction Derby 2 is a fantastic game and one of my favorite titles from the original PlayStation era. The graphics are well outdated, as is anything from that era, but I think they hold up for what they are. The physics and mechanics for the most part are flawless, save the aforementioned black magic math, and every now and then you're subject to some faulty collisions. Consider it a saving grace, but a number of times when collisions mysteriously turned off was ok by me. And then, the soundtrack: a direct followup to the original's adrenalin pumping thrash metal goodness. I find it strange to say "thrash metal" and "goodness" in the same sentence, as I'm not the biggest fan of the genre, but the music's so fitting for the car crunching action of Destruction Derby 2. However, take the game away, and I have a sneaky suspicion I'd rather detest the songs of Jug and Tuscan. Let's experiment: Dead Happy, How Do You Know, Pushed Away, Joyrider, Direction, and one of the greatest victory songs ever, Jade. Respect! Jug can really bring it and they proved me wrong. Even without the game, the soundtrack is killer.

Rating: 4.5 overzealous announcers out of 5