metroid

What does a genius need with pants?

  • Reading time:10 mins read

The Metroid 2 score really gets a bad rap. Actually, Metroid 2 seems to be the whipping child of the series in general.

I think it’s worth pointing out that when the music is good, it’s really good in this game. The main tunnel theme, the Metroid battle theme, the revamped Samus and Item themes.

Where it begins to get a little controversial is in the various ruins. Once the player wanders out of the central tunnel and into any of the larger playfields, the music switches to an atmospheric pattern of bleeps. Not a lot of melody. Not a lot of rhythm in particular.

If you’re looking for Hip Tanaka’s tuneful power-ballads, I can see how it should be easy to feel let down. But the music serves a different purpose here.

Metroid 2 is by far the creepiest, most clautrophobic game in the series. It’s lonely, unnerving, frustrating, almost trance-inducing. It has a tangible atmosphere which I think is wholly fitting to the game’s setting and general purpose. (This atmosphere is most obvious when the game is played in full black-and-white, as originally intended, rather than with the upgraded Gameboy Color palette.)

The music is an important element of that formula. It exists to create and sustain a particular mood. I feel it was composed very deliberately; Ryohji Yoshitomi could have written anything, after all. But he chose to go the avant garde route.

There is a method to the music, as you can tell if you listen closely enough. It’s not random, and it’s not careless. It’s an attempt at an unsettling ambient soundscape.

The problem that Yoshitomi faces in this instance is the limited sound capacity of the original Gameboy. Melodic fare is easy. More experimental music is a bit tricker to pull off convincingly with only a few triangle and square waves at a person’s disposal.

Whether Yoshitomi succeeds in his goal or not is up to the listener. But for what it is, I think his score works very well.

Combined with the excellent quality of the more melodic portions of the soundtrack, I’d easily rank the Metroid 2 score up there amongst my favourite original Gameboy soundtracks — somewhere in the neighborhood of Gargoyle’s Quest.

On the other hand, it’s worth noting that Yoshitomi was never asked back for the future games.

The music in Prime does something odd to my head.

It all began with the theme which plays behind the game-select screen. For whatever reason it might be, that theme moves me pretty strongly.

The last time I felt this way about a videogame theme was in 1986, when I first slotted my copy of Legend of Zelda into my NES. At the time, I was struck with a profound awe and wonder. I knew that I was seeing and hearing something important. And my whole body reacted.

The Metroid Prime theme (from it’s use later in the game, I’m assuming that this is intended as the main theme to the game) has a similar, if somewhat more muted, effect on me. And the deeper I crawl into the game proper, the more impressed I am with the music in general.

In the case of the main theme, I think a large part of it is the uncommonly synchopated rhythmic pattern. Short-long, short-long, long, long, long. Another part of it is the weird, theramin-like lead instrument. But it’s just the overall weight of decisions made in the tune’s composition, arrangement, and production that make it so strange and so captivating to me.

The rest of the score seems a bit more tame — although there are more touches of experimentation, the deeper I crawl.

In my view, Kenji Yamamoto makes some very tasteful and wise decisions in terms of references to earlier themes. I particularly like his restructured Metroid and Brinstar themes.

Some of the earlier, more traditional soundtrack fare (particularly during the pre-Tallon introduction sequence) isn’t altogether interesting. And the planet-side music does take a while to build up to anything. But I’m beginning to sense a sort of a method behind the score’s evolution.

If it keeps going where it looks to me like it’s headed, this is going to be a pretty darned sensitive and impressive work. I don’t really know that it has much comparison in terms of what else is out there at the moment.

The Prime soundtrack is, so far, perhaps the most original and generally satisfying one for my tastes.

However: as for the soundtrack which I find the most memorable, well-written for its time, and which I personally enjoy the most — I’d have to go with Hip Tanaka’s original Metroid soundtrack.

There’s not a dud in the bunch. It consists of some of the best themes ever written for any videogame. And it made the game far more interesting to play than it really should have been.

I do quite like the Metroid 2 score, for what it is. Super Metroid’s music was… functional, to my mind. It was very Metroidy. To my mind Yamamoto has improved greatly since 1994, however. I don’t have much comment on the Fusion score. It, too, was Metroidy — though in a way which fit Fusion.

Return of Samus is really what comes to mind when I think of Metroid.

The first game was a bit of a fluke; the elements which make up the game don’t really cohere as well as they might. There doesn’t seem to be much of an overall vision. It was done on a pretty low budget. It seems rather random to me that it turned out to be as memorable as it was.

Metroid II was the first game where all of the elements really came together. Samus was retooled to look more or less as she does now. Her ship was introduced. The game upped the creepiness level several notches, along with a deep sense of disorientation and paranoia.

It’s perhaps the loneliest game in the series. The grainiest. And also the most wonderful.

More so than in any of the recent games, there is a sense of nigh-unlimited possibility in Return of Samus. You just don’t know what’s out there. Anything could be important. Anything could be a threat or a relief. You just don’t know where a new item will turn up. Or where the end is. Or where you’ll unexpectedly blunder into another Metroid.

I think the most important factor in so establishing RoS in my mind has to be the spider ball. The way it’s been retooled in Prime is interesting, but the item was far more flexible in RoS. (It was also probably a nightmare for the level designers, so I can see why it’s mostly been left out since then.) The way it was implemented in that game opened up a wealth of possibilities for exploration.

Super Metroid was certainly enjoyable. But it was a bit over-polished and conservative for my tastes. It was engineered to please as wide an audience as possible, while feeding fans exactly what they wanted (rather than what they didn’t *know* they wanted). Sort of like Phantasy Star: End of the Millennium. It didn’t really do very much new; all it did was take the best of the first two games and make it all a lot more palatable.

Basically — the first game establishes the concept of Metroid. The second game begins with that template, and then goes on an introspective search for identity. The third game takes most of the new ground blazed in the second game, combines it with the charm and trappings of the first game, and puts as much shine on it as the SNES can muster.

Fusion tries to be a very different kind of a game, and I respect it for that. What’s more, I think it succeeds quite well in its attempts to reinvent Metroid as a tense action-oriented game. I feel the level design is severely lacking, though; I’m not all that fond of some of its lazy logistical constructs. The game comes off almost feeling like Super Mario World in terms of how special moves and blocks are used.

Prime, I really like a lot so far. I didn’t honestly expect it to be as good as it is. I can’t comment very well on it until I’ve finished the game, though — as it seems there’s still a lot of odd stuff coming up that could effect my evaluation.

I think it could be interesting if the next game were set somewhere after Fusion. That game sets up a ton of change for the Metroid universe, and it would be intersting to see how Retro might follow through on it.

On the other hand, I tend to see the main linear series as Intelligent Systems’ duty. If there’s to be an out-and-out Metroid 5, it would make more sense to me if it came from the original Metroid team.

What seems to be Retro’s duty is to fill in the cracks and to attempt to explain all of the peculiarities introduced in the main series. To dig deeper into the groundwork set by Intelligent Systems.

And on that note, I think a Metroid Zero of sorts (as someone mentioned above) would make a lot of sense.

In early interviews, it was suggested that Prime was going to be set before the original Metroid. I think they chose wisely, in their decision to instead make it a direct follow-up to the first game — but that still leaves the backstory concept to fulfill.

In terms of bonuses, I agree that it would be keen to include Super Metroid — and for exactly this reason:

That way, every single Metroid game would be playable on the Gamecube.

Metroid 1 is included with Prime.
Metroid 2, you can play with the Gamecube Gameboy Player.
Metroid 3 would be included with this sequel to Prime.
Metroid 4 would again work with the Gameboy Player.

Kind of keen to have everything in one place, y’know?

I would also like to see the ability to turn power-ups on and off, as in Super Metroid.

Honestly, I’d just like to be able to take the Varia suit off every now and then. Those oversized shoulderpads just keey getting more ridiculous with every game; I much prefer how her raw Power Suit looks.

Also, it would be nice to be able to combine the various beam weapons (as in the third and fourth games).

I’d like to see young Samus, somehow. As a child, in a flashback, perhaps.

I want those Chozo statues back again, for holding power-ups.

And I want Retro to feel free to try out some more radical, experimental ideas that I would probably never think of on my own. I want to be surprised, above all else.

* * *

Regarding the spiky, butch hairdo from the concept art: Yes. That impressed the hell out of me. And it seems to match my interpretation of Samus’ personality, really well.

And honestly, doesn’t it make a lot more sense to have short hair if you’re going to be wearing a suit like that? Imagine it getting caught in the helmet. Yowtch.

Storytelling as a craft

  • Reading time:6 mins read

Wind Waker just came today.

Jesus. I had no idea how right I was about the whole legend/storybook aspect. That’s precisely what this game is. The introduction sequence lays it all out.

Link has a lobster on his shirt!

In terms of gameplay and general structure, Wind Waker is almost identical to OoT. The controls are much more polished, mroe responsive, and generally nicer-feeling than in OoT. We’ve still got the god-damned fetch quests. (In fact, I think we’ve got more than in OoT.) Dungeons and towns and shops are generally laid out in the same way as before.

So, yeah. Basically imagine a really buttery OoT, with just about all of the interface problems removed, and you’ve got a good starting point.

At least in the first few hours, the game seems oddly linear. The player is given a boat right near the outset, and free roam of the ocean (which now covers almost the entire world) — but if the player decides to head off on his own whims, the boat begins to complain.

Yes, I know I’m not going in the right direction. Thank you. I don’t care if I’m not ready for that island yet; I want to visit it anyway.

There are more natural contraints for the player than simply not allowing him to go where he pleases.

Honestly, I’m starting to get tired of the post-Adventure of Link Zelda gameplay style. I wasn’t fond of most of the changes in Link to The Past, but one of the things which most irritated me was the way that items came to be used.

I’m not going to elaborate right now on exactly what the distinction is, but OoT backpeddled a bit in this regard; its item system — the items available; the manner in which they, the player, the environment, and enemies interacted; the manner, timing, and order with which the items were acquired — reminds me far more of the way things worked in the NES games than in LttP.

Wind Waker feels more like LttP, as far as items go.

Take that as you will.

Actually, given how integral the whole item collection system is to the game structure (as in Metroid), this has a pretty big effect on the general tone of the game.

In Wind Waker, I feel like I’m just collecting random doodads. Some of them are useful; some aren’t. But the only reason the game is giving them to me is to enable me to progress. At the point I’m at now — around five hours into the game — I’m ceasing to be thrilled when I find a new inventory item.

What’s worse is that about half of the items in the game so far seem to serve no purpose other than as keys in fetch quests. Argh. I don’t care! This is an adventure game convention which needs to die. Soon.

Further, even the interesting items — such as the grappling hook — are often hindered a bit by needless irritation. Every single time the grapple wraps around a post, for instance, the game halts to show me a four-second cutscene. I don’t need this more than once ever, thank you.

The good parts so far: the atmosphere and general graphic design are just fantastic, now that I’ve got some context for all of their elements. Link actually has a lot of personality; his facial expressions add a bunch to the game. Almost every object in the environemnt is interactive in some vague way or another. The water and fire and smoke and heat effects are very well-executed.

There’s this one kid on the first island who has a perpetual, enormous drip of snot hanging from his nose. I don’t know if that was really necessary.

I have a feeling I know who Zelda is. I’ve had this feeling since about half an hour into the game.

Where the atmosphere is original, it’s great. Where it’s not, it’s tiring — at least for me. All of the forced OoT-ish trappings quickly began to wear on me — but in the cases where the game takes a full left turn into its own universe, there’s a ton of life to be found. These moments tend to evidence themselves when the player is either left free to explore and bond with the environment, or when the game locks the player into a tightly-scripted plot sequence. Where I begin to lose patience is where the game tries to yank me around and force me to do things for it for no other reason than the fact that it’s a videogame.

I’m not fond of manipulation. I don’t mind wasting time of my own accord, but I don’t like my time to be wasted for me.

To be fair, I’m still only a few hours into the game. The plot hasn’t fully picked up yet, and I’m not yet as free to wander — so perhaps things will become less annoying in the future.

As far as sailing goes — it’s a mildly interesting mechanic, for a few minutes. The problem is that it takes so long to get anywhere. And once you set your coordinates, you don’t… really do anything. If you try, you’ll probably end up stopping the boat. The best thing to do when travelling is just to put the controller down and get a sandwich.

Again — maybe something else happens with this later. Right now, though, I’m perplexed. There are a lot of really good ideas in this system — so why did they combine them in such an obviously tedious manner?

I hope there’s more use for the telescope in the near future. About an hour in, I found a camera of sorts which has exactly the same functionality, except with the added benefit of enabling me to take pictures. I don’t see what I need the telescope for, if I’ve got this other item sitting around. I hope this isn’t just an oversight. We’ll see.

So — to boil it down:

The good — the graphical style; the atmosphere; the expressiveness of the characters (similar to Skies of Arcadia in this respect (among many)); the smooth controls; the non-annoying menu system; some interesting potential with a few of the new items; the self-reflective sense of humor of the dialogue; the Koji Kondo score; the introductory sequence.

The bad — how manipulative and needlessly annoying the actual game tends to be so far; THE FUCKING FETCH QUESTS; the overall structure of the item system so far.

Again — in its best places, this game has a different atmosphere from any previous Zelda game. I hope the game takes more advantage of its advantages than it seems content to thus far. It feels like a real shame to me that with all of these great new ideas, Eiji Aonuma felt compelled to make a Zelda game out of the pieces.

So. We’ll see, we’ll see…

I’ve yet to pay for a Gamecube game.

  • Reading time:6 mins read

I’ve got the OoT disc now. It’s… a decent port.

At the point I’m at now, I just beat Gohma and hit Hyrule Field again. Golly, it was a lot quicker this time around. The first time I played this portion of the game, I think it took me several hours to get as far as this. Now it’s taken me only around half an hour. Of course I did poke around quite a lot, before.

There are a lot of ads included for Wind Waker (both on the disc and in the packaging), which seems superfluous considering that the only way to get this disc is as a pre-order bonus with that game.

This compilation disc is apparently labeled, officially, as The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. Master Quest is called “The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time: Master Quest” Which… makes sense. It’s not really a novel game in its own right so much as it is a second quest of OoT. (The instruction booklet doesn’t even bother to distinguish between the games.)

So collectively this disc kind forms the complete version of OoT. OoT DX, as it were.

The actual presentation of this package, I’m not sure about. It was thrown together pretty quickly.

The game disc is printed with the logo and the game title in red and black. The side of the case again simply lists the game as OoT. The back of the case actually goes into a fair amount of detail, considering that this isn’t intended for direct sale. The front is graced with a disappointing excuse for cover art (even more so than usual for Gamecube games). heh. It’s just the two logos against a gradiant background, with a few blurbs.

Just the logos would have been fine, if they were presented elegantly. Not so here. It’s not terrible; it’s just not… amazing.

When you boot up the system, tou’re presented with a screen that’s got an ocarina in the background and then logos (with corresponding pictures of link) in the upper-left and upper-right, for each of the two quests. Then down at the bottom is an option to allow you to view trailers to several other Gamecube and GBA games.

A new mix of Hyrule Field/the original Zelda theme plays in the background.

Below the logos, some… rather loud, overly large text explains the current selection in greater detail; a one-sentence synopsis which honestly seems a little condescending to me.

When you choose either quest, it gives you a splash screen that illustrates the controls for you and asks you if you want to use the rumble feature. Seems again kind of superfluous; they could have just thrown that into the options menu. And the game already teaches you how to play, and the instruction booklet is quite thorough.

The game takes a good while to load once you select one of the two quests. I understand why, of course. But you just get a black screen with a progress bar and a bit of related clip-art pasted above. That could have been more seamless.

The only changes are that it’s in a higher resolution now (and there’s no more of that palette dithering), and the issues with the controls. Any text and icons in the game have been altered to reflect the Gamecube pad a little more closely. The button colors at the top of the screen, for instance.

It’s strange. Not even the frame rate has been brought up. It’s just as choppy as on the N64. Draw distance seems the same.

It’s basically a perfect port. It emulates the positive and the negative of the original game. Including all of the text that you can’t skip and Navi’s over…Naviness. Even the small issues which could have been repaired, generally aren’t. Or they don’t seem to be; all of the graphical and camera engine peculiaries.

The controls are fine. They feel as natural as possible considering the differences between the N64 and Gamecube pads. I think the L trigger, being analog, is a little mushier than what we had before with the Z trigger.

The secondary items work okay. Right now I have slingshot on Y (the missile button in Metroid). Deku nut is X. And I’ve the ocarina set to Z.

It’s a little annoying to have to reach for the C-stick every time Navi starts to whine, though. And I’m not sure yet how it’s going to work once one has to start playing melodies on the ocarina (that’s the only place to access one of the notes).

So that should be… interesting.

The music stutters slightly when one brings up the menu screen.

The game takes a lot of memory for saving — fifteen blocks, to compare to Metroid’s two. This accounts for both the normal game and Master Quest, though.

It also takes a while to save. And as with the loading sequence, the method isn’t as polished as it could be. The screen just goes black, and a clumsy message appears to instruct you NOT to touch the memory card or the power button. Then it says the game has saved, and requires the player to hit “okay” to continue. And it drops back into the game.

Again, that could have been more seamless.

I also… Hmm.

The demo movies are interesting, but I think they’re kind of out-of-place here. They take down the tone of the disc in general. If it were just the two quests, with an elegant selection interface, I think that would take up the respectability several notches. As it is, this feels like… a free bonus disc.

Oddly, Sega’s name doesn’t appear anywhere on the F-Zero trailers. Nor does that of Amusement Vision. I’m not as surprised that Treasure isn’t mentioned in relation to Wario World.

In a big, edited sequence that shows off most of the big games which have been released since the Gamecube’s launch (all the way back to SSBM), PSOep1&2 and Super Monkey Ball 2 are amongst the last two or three items shown.

And there are some odd ones in there. A random James Bond game from EA. Timesplitters 2. Some other things which have little specifically to do with the Gamecube.

It’s more like “we’ve got this too!” than “look at what we’ve got that no one else does!”.

There’s nothing really wrong with the disc, and it’s certainly worth having around. It’s just — I’m surprised that it wasn’t handled with more care than it was. It wouldn’t have been at all difficult to have made things feel a little less cheap.

The games themselves are basically fine, from what I’ve seen so far. It just feels like an N64 perfectly emulated on my Gamecube.

Things To Do!

Theramin power!

  • Reading time:2 mins read

I’ve concluded that a large part of the power of Metroid Prime’s main theme comes from its use of its time signature. It took a while for me to lock into what it was doing, rhythmically, as it works perfectly well when jammed into a 2/4 meter.

For those of you who’re following me out there, you probably know where I’m going next with this.

That’s right. In reality, it’s set to 6/8. This explains a large part of everything, as far as I’m concerned.

Allow me to illustrate.

Time signatures of a multiple of three (waltz time) are inherently circular. Unlike even beats (2/2, 4/4), which can be considered “square”, there is a constant, swirly, forward motion to threes. (You can ponder the logistics as to why, on your own. It can get pretty deep.)

The thing is about 6/8 — which, incidentally, is not one of the most common signatures out there (although it’s not all that odd either; it’s just underused) — is that it’s a hybrid of sorts. You’ve got the circular motion from its 3/4 element, and you’ve got an even-sided, comprehensible measure with its 2/4 qualities.

It’s the best of both worlds, to a certain extent — and if it’s used well.

The inherent possibilities of this meter are as follows.

You have a square measure which is split down the middle, into two round halves. Intuitively, in order to create forward motion, you need the halves to roll into each other in a balanced way.

One roll to set up; one roll to conclude. And it goes on like this. Pressure, release, pressure, release. Like an inchworm, or a heartbeat. The music seems to live. And it yanks the listener forward in an unusually powerful way.

And what’s more — because of the circular nature of the music, it has the potential to loop pretty seamlessly. Heh.

I have to go.

Cell division

  • Reading time:6 mins read

Legally, I must comment that Metroid Prime has the best music in the world.

Something weird comes over me, just sitting and listening to the theme which plays behind the game options menu (one button-press past the title screen).

Game music has done odd things with my emotions on numerous previous occasions. It has ever since the original Legend of Zelda, where the first time I placed the game into my NES I simply stared at the TV for what might have been half an hour for all I know, listening to Kondo’s lilting title theme and watching the item scroll. It does when I watch the opening FMV to the first Sonic Adventure. The Phantasy Star II score has done mountains for me.

But even in the best game scores — Jet Set Radio, Streets of Rage, Ninja Gaiden II — generally the best that happens is that they impress the hell out of me and then that’s that. And even in the cases where I’ve been struck more deeply (for one reason or another), generally it’s been a single blow — often a manipulative one — in an otherwise so-so score.

Frankly, the reason the intro to Sonic Adventure does a weird job with my chest lies more in the direction of the intro sequence and my own personal share of nostalgia than anything about the music on its own. Heck, I’m not even very fond of half of the music in that game for its own merit. What music I do like well is mostly from Kumatani Fumie’s end of the stick rather than that of Jun Senoue.

Kenji Yamamoto has done something different here. I can’t explain it rationally. But it fucks with my head. The more I listen to it, the more this becomes true.

I’m afraid I’m going to develop a nervous condition, playing this game.

A bigger one, I mean.

I find this interesting, as I’ve honestly never been as impressed with the Super Metroid score as just about everyone else on the planet. It didn’t come near to Hip Tanaka’s original vision, or even the chirpy B-ambience of Return of Samus (a soundtrack which I still contend has never gotten its proper due). Super Metroid‘s music was appropriate, well-written, and… there. It suited the game, and sounded Metroidy.

But this? Ye god.

…

Again, I feel more or less exactly as I felt when I was eight and Zelda was new. And this fact is all the more peculiar just because I’m no longer eight years old. Zelda isn’t new. Metroid isn’t new. I’ve played so many games. I’ve seen so many conventions. Cleverness and skill and joy and wonder are about the best I can expect. That anyone can expect who has been around as long as I have.

There just isn’t a lot out there which feels new anymore. There aren’t any more revelations. There’s no new life to discover.

But perhaps there is.

And perhaps it’s not in Japan?

Who would have thought.

It’s not that this game is anything so totally original that it should — taken as a mass of parts — be as much of a breakthrough as Zelda. We’ve seen most of the elements here in at least some form before, for years on end. Some of the incarnations perhaps aren’t even all that different.

Half-Life was a step away from its FPS roots, and toward a more evolved gaming sensibility — and look at where that got it. Metroid Prime, I suppose, a person could consider the next logical step in this direction. Except that when you pull its laces, this is something else entirely.

I guess the way one could put it is that what this game feels like is something close to a culmination of what we’ve learned over the past thirty years of game design. Someone managed to boil it down and make The Game — or something like it. After all of the struggling since the last checkpoint, suddenly we’ve got progress. And we’re allowed to move on.

I’ve not played Eternal Darkness yet, but it’s worth noting again that this game was developed by an American studio, with aid from Nintendo. I imagine it’s got its flaws, but it still sounds like that game did a hell of a lot more right than most games have been doing lately. And like it had a solid vision to it.

Edit:

Nintendo has been doing a lot for the industry lately. They’ve gone through some pretty huge changes in attitude since the glory days of the NES, and now seem to be pretty much content to be Nintendo. I keep harping on that Q-fund thing of Yamauchi’s, but I feel it’s a lot more important than it looks. It fits right in with the recent “apprenticeship” system of game design that Miyamoto’s been pioneering, and what Nintendo’s been doing with second and third parties.

They’ve got the money and the expertise, so they’re investing it in the next generation. They won’t have it forever. Miyamoto won’t be around forever. Nintendo won’t be. But the art will remain, the skills will flourish. And maybe someone else will march on to victory, birthed from the seeds of that knowledge and support.

Sure, Nintendo is acting in Nintendo’s best interest — but they don’t have to do it in such an enlightened way. The fact that they are, says mountains to me and sets a tremendous example for the rest of the industry.

I think we’re closing in on a new era here. And it’s not going to come from where we expect. The old guard is starting to break down. The entire old infrastructure.

Just look at all of the shit happening in the industry right now. If you’re clinging to the old ways, it’s bad news. And it’s pretty scary. But there’s a new wind in the air, and just about everyone is clueless about it so far. If there’s any time to block one’s sails, I think this is it.

And dammit, I want a copy of this soundtrack.

Brinstone, you say?

  • Reading time:2 mins read

So my GameCube came today, with its complementary copy of Metroid Prime.

My comments so far:

  1. Whoa. Damn.
  2. … I need a memory card.

Is it just me, or do Nintendo really pack their stuff well? Opening each of my GBA and my Gamecube for the first time (in their respective moments), I got a rush of nostalgia. When was the last new device I opened which seemed so lovingly, sturdily boxed? I can’t remember. My Genesis?

Opening this thing, I got the distinct impression that I was unveiling to myself something uncommonly important. Something which would stick with me and last for years.

Not a feeling one gets much from electronic devices these days.

Particularly not Sony devices.

Odd, that.

Wow, that remixed music sounds good.

Why does it make me giggle, the first time I hear Samus’s theme in any new Metroid game?

Or the item power-up theme, for that matter?

Wow, there’s a lot of text in this game. I wonder who thought up all of this background info. Does it say in the credits? I don’t want to walk downstairs for my game case. I’ll look later. Was it someone from Retro? Would NCL have given them such free license? The game does a better join tying together and explaining the Metroid universe in the first half hour than the other four do, put together.

Intelligent Systems, my hindquarters!

Yes.

You just don’t know, I tell you.

I think this is an example of how the third dimension can be used to add more than just spatial depth to a game. It’s a similar phenomenon to what I saw in Sonic Adventure, only… much more so. Much more seamless.

To mention:

This game doesn’t seem to come from anywhere. It doesn’t feel Western. It doesn’t feel distinctly Japanese. It… feels like the love child of Metroid and Myst. Only more so.

Oh god. Oh god. The nose. Must do something.

Juice me up!

Adventure theory

  • Reading time:8 mins read

I love all of these pop-up ads. “Is PORNOGRAPHY saved on your PC? Stop wondering and check now!”

Like I really need help to figure out where my porn is.

Here’s the value of the impression of near-infinite possibilities in a game world or system (“world” being a generalized term from here on out) — they give the impression that there is more to the world at hand than what the player is directly being fed; that something exists outside of whatever specific tasks lie in the player’s path. This creates a sense of place, and of being within that place.

As a result, the player becomes more involved and atached to his or her actions — and those actions become more enjoyable and interesting. The game becomes more personal due to this sense of being; you can say that the game world has a deeper personality — that it is greater than a simple reach of understanding. Just as a character becomes more interesting and “real” as his or her personality becomes more complex. Just as either complexity or near complete mystery make a character more fascinating. Either way, it’s difficult to entirely pigeonhole the character.

Next topic.

Is it just me, or are Nintendo’s major games starting to all feel very similar? I got this when playing Metroid. I realized at some point that it feels like Super Mario World, or Zelda 3. They’re starting to mush together now. Distinct and interesting characters and slightly different mechanics are about all that separate them. Same concept almost exactly; made out of the same elements. Super Bomb and Speed Boost blocks are exactly the same as bricks and Question Mark Blocks and Exclamation Blocks and… it goes on. Castlevania, although it lately tries hard to mimic the Nintendo style of design, still manages to feel a little different. Not necessarily better, but at least it still kind of works on its own rule set. It ends up at about the same place, but through a slightly different combination of elements.

To step on a tangent here: the recent games are obviously inspired by Nintendo’s style as much as they are by the earlier action-based Castlevania. The games are a little less refined and focused, however. There is a wide variety of items which serve no really useful and special purpose (even for the sake of collection, which is itself becoming a tiresome goal). The level design is good, but disorganized. New weapons and abilities are often neglected outside of a few specialized situations. There’s a lot of clutter, put to little use. And yet, they are competent (Igarashi’s more so than those of They Who One Were Kobe). In the case of HoD, even somewhat organic.

I don’t think I’m going to include many more items than will be actually be useful, in my own game.

Next topic.

PC-style adventure games work on more or less the same set of concepts as the console-style adventure, only the setbacks are of a different nature. Less action-oriented problem solving. In the Lucasfilm/Sierra games, puzzles tend to be item- and riddle-based. In the Myst style, they tend to be wholly environmental and logical in nature. There is no real inventory, as in the other styles of game. One’s tools are all in one’s own mind, and in what mental devices one is able to cobble together from the enironment at hand.

The Lucas-type, character-based adventures are a little more clumsy and less pure, in a sense; they rely on physical items as the machines, or often merely as the keys to other machines. They lay everything out for the player, and all one is expected to do is figure out what goes where, and how (logically or not). Bring item x to locatino y in order to open door z. The more interesting mechanics tend to be a little more sophisticated; they involve deciphering the use of certain machines, either within the inventory or the environment.

Occasionally there is the element of deciding what action to take with these machines, upping the player’s involvement, but also the potential frustration if the game isn’t designed well enough to deal with its own system. This is a carry-over from the Infocom and Zork days.

The console-style adventure has more of a tendency to be action-based. Environmental and mechanical logic puzzles are rare, although inventory-based “key” puzzles are not uncommon. Often, however, the “keys” are integrated into the character. Rather than existing as random icons, they become facets of the character or additions to its moveset.

The “doors” which are opened (machines operated) with these keys often — at least in the Nintendo system — are in the obvious default shape of blocks. All manner of blocks! A relatively pure example of this mechanic is Mario. A combination of this concept with an inventory would be Zelda. A halfway point is Metroid — where items are gradually accumulated, but add directly to the character mechanics rather than an inventory.

Biohazard is an incoherent amalgam of the inventory-based Lucasfism-style game with a second mechanism, that links resource management with an awkward battle system. Where this becomes frustrating is in the combination of action and scarcity. The game does not control very well, and is based around surprising the player with difficult-to-manage situations. Due to much earlier errors and indiscretions, it is not at all uncommon to become stuck in a stalmate of sorts where the player has no recourse but failure. The player can become trapped in a very real way, causing all of his or her dedication and patience to come to nothing.

This is poor design. There should always be a mechanism for escape and eventual progress. This is similar to the flaws in a powerup-based shooter like Gradius; one mistake, and it can be next to impossible to recovr. The difference is, in Gradius it is usually possible — if incredibly difficult — to build one’s self back up to where one used to be. In a well-balanced fighting game, a player with little remaining health should still be capable of winning, given enough skill. This isn’t always the case with Biohazard.

What makes a game like Mario or Zelda or Metroid so satisfying, conceptually, is the variety in its callenges, and in how ineffably they blend togeter as pieces of a larger coherent whole. That is, the integral elements of each system all tie into a common scope of reference, making each independent system merely one aspect of interaction with the game world given.

If simple exploration on its own isn’t enough in Metroid, one has a gradually-expanding set of character based “keys” to use, and one knows that related “doors” might potentially be anywhere. If none of these abilities are enough, there is an implicit trust between the player and the game that a later ability will solve the problem. If there are no more abilities to be gotten, then the solution must be something that the player has overlooked.

Where Metroid Fusion failsm ir at least pushes its luck, is by either breaking or stretching that trust which has been built up through three previous games as well as by the inherent makeup of Fusion itself. The player is often trapped through the course of the game, occasionally in a precarious situation, with only one unobvious, difficult-to-detect, means of escape — either to safety or simply to further progress. The game is somewhat redeemed by allowing that escape, but such frustration is trying on the player. After a few situations like this, it becomes obvious that something is just not right with what the game is asking of the player. It’s abusive.

Ultimately, the game can be beaten by anyone with the perseverence, and every item can be obtained — a crucial point of Metroid’s appeal — however the game doesn’t always play fair.

Beyond this, the puzzles have become terribly overt and incongruous. They’re clever, sure, but obviously contrived to fill a formula. The entire body of the game carries this mark of contrivance. Fusion feels like Nintendo By Numbers; pieced together by a design team either rushed, lazy, inexperienced with a game of this sort (and yet observant of its obvious qualities).

The game is clever; not creative. The surrounding elements and the game concept are creative (in terms of the new elements introduced, and the elegant reinvention that they necessitated). This is part of what makes the game so confusing, for me.

And I’m tired. And my copy of Phantasy Star Collection has actually moved from its resting spot in New Orleans, where its’ been for over a week. Now it’s been sitting in Portland since last night. They didn’t bother to bring it over today, for whatever reason. Hm.

Metroid Fusion (GBA/Nintendo)

  • Reading time:1 mins read

by [name redacted]

So, a new Metroid then. How is it this game took eight years to make? You’d almost think it was designed by Nintendo.

Though I have digested only a sample of the system’s bountiful and no doubt noble bounty, I feel it safe to conclude that Metroid Fusion is so far the best game to be set loose on the Game Boy Advance.

Which is not to suggest the game is flawless. Because, well. The game is flawed.

( Continue reading at Insert Credit )

Oh GOD, is that Samus’s…

  • Reading time:9 mins read

Something weird about Metroid Fusion… it doesn’t let you get all of the items the first time through. The last powerup you get in the game is the screw attack (obtained through a very strange source) , and about 40% of the breakable walls in the game require said screw attack. And yet, once you get said screw attack, the plot leashes you into exactly one path and locks all other doors which might be a distraction to you. So all you can do is go forward and beat the game, essentially.

And so I wasted all of this time prowling around, flaunting my curiosity against the linear paths along which I was directed, expecting to be able to at least find all or most of the items if I wasn’t going to finish the game quickly enough. No, though. I take forever to finish and I’m only allowed to collect just over 60% of the items in the game. Hrmn.

One thing which might balance this out is that I now have a “complete” save that apparently unlocks all of the doors which should have already been that way and allows me to play from my last save point. Now my only problem is all of the blocks which are supposed to be broken with a dash attack yet which aren’t surrounded by nearly enough space to allow said dashing to occur. Not sure what to do about that.

But yeah. I’ve finished the game. I got the “Hi, I’m Samus. Admire my armour.” ending, as expected — but it does appear that the game leaves open the possibility for more.

The last portion of the game seemed somewhat unfulfilling to me. Things were just starting to get interesting, when the game merely… ended. There weren’t any really interesting showdowns or anything — at least in terms of boss mechanics. I’m not sure how thrilled I am by the choices for final bosses either, though. I mean, they were all either pretty much expected or… well. The last boss really fell pretty flat. It’s obviously intended as an homage to Metroid II, to which this game tries to be a sequel as much as it does to the third game. But… hum.

The endgame just feels rushed to me; a last-minute shuffle of Metroid elements from the past (there was almost literally nothing new here), plus the forced linear path. The plot was just beginning to pick up some steam. The tension was just starting to build. Things were just starting to get really difficult. The level design was just starting to fall together. And then that was it.

That said, the series now seems to have been kicked off again on a new path. Where Super Metroid did its part in ending things, Fusion finishes the job and then opens up some new threads for the future. This is… well, a decent bridge game. I guess. It had all of the elements to be something really momentous, but in the end this is just Chapter Four. It’s King of Fighters ’99. (Okay, ’99 was chapter five — but that’s also including ’94, which was more a prologue than a plot chapter.)

Hey, KoF began the same year that the last Metroid game was made. And now that it’s gone through two plot arcs, Metroid’s come back for what looks like it’s intended to be the beginning of its second arc. Hmm.

Fusion, for me, does more to raise questions about the next Metroid than it satisfies as a game on its own. Sure, it’s by leaps and bounds the best game on the GBA so far (since mine is still in the design phase). It’s captivating for as long as it lasts. There’s a lot of great stuff introduced here, and there’s more plot than in the other three Metroids combined (and probably Prime as well). But very little of that stuff is really exploited as well as it could be.

There’s not enough game here — and I don’t just mean that the thing is short, which it certainly is (albeit longer than Harmony of Dissonance). It feels more like a test run for a New-Style Metroid, to see how well it works out. It works just great! But… I’d like more than just a demo, y’know?

All three of the previous games felt satisfactory. If nothing else, there was a bunch more to explore, and they’d let you explore it rather than blocking off entranceways and locking doors whenever they felt the need to confine you for reasons of the plot. Once you got a new ability, you had a chance to use it for a while. I mean. What the hell is the use of the screw attack in this game? And why does… he give it to you?

Fusion is an experiment at making a linear Metroid. And… it succeeds to some extent, but it takes things too far. The level design is not constructed around exploration; it’s constructed as a cleverly-intertwined series of more or less direct paths from point A to B to C to D. There are some detours allowed, and a few confined bits of mandatory tile-searching thrown in attempt to appease the audience — but they’re all more or less scripted events within that linear framework. It’s got an interesting plot which falls into cliche near the end and then is abruptly cut short at what feels like the three-quarter mark (without really capitalizing on some of the tension and the setup established through the earlier portions of the game).

So. Hrm. How do I feel about this game? To be entirely honest, I think it thrills me the least of the four main Metroids so far. (Prime is another story, as I don’t even have a GameCube yet.) Some of this I know is just due to my expectations for what a Metroid game is supposed to be — as not all of them are met to my utmost satisfaction here. I came in anticipating one thing and then I was constantly pulled in other directions the entire way through, no matter how much I attempted to force the issue and to play the game like, well, Metroid. I didn’t want to rush through, and in the end this reluctance got me nothing. The game essentially gives you no good reason not to blow through it as quickly as you can manage. Then later it gives you the opportnuity to poke around for whatever you might have missed, after-the-fact.

So okay, let’s take it as a linear, plot-based action/adventure game. The plot is intriguing, but it doesn’t follow through on some of the major themes and tensions that it spends hours building up. The end doesn’t do much except serve as an ending by default of it being at the end. I really like the addition of plot sequences to Metroid, and the new action-based mechanics are terrific. But the bosses in the middle are astoundingly, overwhelmingly difficult while the last few bosses only took me a few tries in total to get past. That one boss requires nothing more than to stay away from him and to shoot missiles as quickly as possible. Compared to some of the earlier bosses in the game, this is just silly. As a linear game, Fusion feels incomplete. It feels like the beginning of the soap opera era of Metroid. Stay tuned for Metroid 5, where we might actually do something with all of these neat new ideas with which we’ve taunted you for the last ten hours or so.

And yet, aside from all of these complaints, it’s still Metroid. And it’s enjoyable, for what it is. And again, there’s a bunch of great stuff in here — including some pretty daring experiments with what Metroid can be.

Is Metroid falling into one of those odd/even sequences, like Star Trek and Final Fantasy? Metroids 1 and 3 are the “standard” games in the series. 2 and 4 are both experiments with the formula, and both introduced a bunch of plot elements, experiments with the game mechanics, and a redesign for Samus. Maybe Metroid 5 will do with what’s been created in Fusion what Super Metroid did with what was introduced in Return of Samus, sifting through for the best of the new elements and then threading them back into the traditional Metroid framework?

I guess that’s not a bad way to go. Make a safe game, then experiment. Use those experiments to make another safe game. Then experiment. And so on.

Maybe Fusion will grow on me if I spend more time with it. The only problem is that every time through the game, I’ll have to deal with the whole linear aspect again. When I replay the earlier Metroids, I’m left alone to do whatever I’m able and to explore in peace. I don’t feel like selecting “restart” without finding the rest of the items in my complete save, so I can’t test out how much the game will meddle with me the second time through or if it’ll leave everything unlocked (as it’s done for the moment).

One other thing — you get to see Samus’ eyes once in the course of the game.

So.

I guess I should write that review, now. Then maybe get started on that Sonic thing. But then I’ve got both homework to do and a test to study for in Physics. (I figure the one should suffice for the other, given that the test will be over the very same material that’s in the homework.) I also need to ask for help from a guy who doesn’t particularly like me. And there’s a bunch of stuff I’ve been putting off in concerns with the game.

Note to Intelligent Systems

  • Reading time:4 mins read

Turning off Save Points — for any length of time — IS A PAIN IN THE ASS. Especially in the vicinity of the toughest boss yet so far. Especially when you follow it up almost directly with another appearance of the SA-X. Now, I don’t mind replaying a section a few times. I think I’ve pretty much learned this boss’ patterns by now. But come ON! This isn’t freakin’ MDK2. Is the tension you’re trying to build really worth the annoyance factor? I appreciate the attempt to use the environment in unexpected ways, but… GOD.

Okay, I’m a little more than halfway through with this thing. I just took a six-hour nap or so, following an important telephone call that I actually made — clearly, directly, with no matter of stammering and no blanking-out. Take THAT, Nynex. Or whatever your name is now.

Also, I got a great image in my just-waking head, of Fay holding the brim of her tricorn as she scampers quickly forward, her poise broken. There’s a lot which can be done with the animations when it comes down to it.

Samus’ new suit and replacement powerups are starting to make the old Samus feel clunky and outdated by comparison. Having to toggle missiles on and off, ice beam instead of ice missiles. Having to choose between one missile type and another. A slower, less precise jumping mechanic. Having to go after separate (and random) refills for each type of weapon, as well as one’s energy — rather than just absorbing bacteria after every enemy killed.

I want my spider ball. I realize what hell this addition must be for the level designers, but dammit. That’s one of the big reasons why (unlike nearly everyone else in the universe) Metroid II strikes me as my favourite game in the series. There’s just so much more to explore in that game than anywhere else, and it’s so mysterious. Plus, it introduced to us the newer and updated version of Samus (as well as her mega-shouldered Varia suit), the way her arm cannon opens and closes in order to shoot missiles, the ability to duck and to shoot downward, a whole bunch of quirky new upgrades (only the most obvious of which have made a return appearance so far), Samus’ ship, and an interesting break from form. (Fmor! Romf!)

Super Metroid is the Super Mario Bros. 3 to Metroid II‘s Wrath of Khan Metroid II did almost everything better than the first game, despite the limitations of the Gameboy hardware. And the inventions that the team used to get around the inherent problems of the platform were hugely important refinements to the building Metroid aesthetic. The only problems are that most of the music generally isn’t as melodious and memorable as Hip Tanaka’s score from the original (though I dig what there is), and that the control is a little floatier than in any of the other Metroid games. Okay, and perhaps the backgrounds lack a lot of variety. But hey, again — this it the original Gameboy. What do you want? If the game comes off feeling like a B-picture as a result, then all the better.

The third game is the ultimate refinement, really, revisiting and polishing the original game’s format while borrowing most of the interesting suggestions from the sequel. A few moments are a bit too traditionally SNES-like for me (you know, the blatant hardware abuse more for the sake of making things look cool for the players who can’t see through the gimmicks than because it adds anything to the game experience), but all in all it’s unquestionably one of the best-designed and best-executed games ever made. The thing is, I tend to retreat from that kind of polish. There’s just not a lot to say. Yes, it’s a great game. Moving on.

Where does Fusion fit in? Where, indeed. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.

Sam I Am

  • Reading time:4 mins read

So I was staring at my order at ebgames (I refuse to provide a link). I spent most of the weekend and yesterday wondering why it hadn’t shipped yet. I was on the verge of becoming extremely agitated when I woke this morning, noting that they apparently had still yet to ship the darned thing. But then she appeared, completely unannounced. I have Samus, and I’m not letting go.

It didn’t take long to whiz through the short bit that I’d already played through wholly illegitimate means a week or two ago. Since then I’ve been slowly poking around, doing my best to do my thing.

Metroid is exactly the kind of game made for a person like me — someone who isn’t content not to poke every single inch of the scenery fifteen times, just in case he might’ve missed something interesting. I flat-out refuse to try to play through the games quickly, even the second or third time through — it’s a matter of principle, bikini or no bikini.

I just today realized how useful the “sleep” mode is that the GBA has. Must make note to institute this in my own game.

The music in this game — so far it’s a mix of Metroid, Strider, and Little Nemo: The Dream Master. And it sounds like the new Samus intro theme (a bit more understated than the traditional one) skips a little. I can’t tell if this is a bug or if it’s meant to sound that way. I assumed it was a mistake in the emulation earlier, but no; the game really is like that. I can’t figure out why. It sounds strange.

There’s a headphones option… Hmm.

And I was wrong. Sammie doesn’t breathe — she PULSATES.

Hmm…

The pace of the game seems intentionally briskened up; Samus runs, jumps, stops, flips, does everything about twice as quickly and precisely as she used to. It was hard to tell on the emulator, but the game is a hell of a lot more action-oriented than the past Metroid games have been. And usually the only areas really left open for a lot of exploration are the huge (and frequent) sections where Samus is trapped — often without anything helpful like a recharge room nearby — and must run around in circles for ten or twenty minutes, looking for the one obscure block that the player has missed, which is her ticket to freedom.

Overall, I’m not so sure I like the way the levels are designed in this game, compared to any of the previous three Metroids. The level design is certainly better than in almost any other game out there, but it’s a bit too gimmicky and forced for me. Intelligent Systems could’ve worked the exploration into the game a lot more seamlessly — and less annoyingly — than this.

Beyond Samus’ newfound speed and athleticism (I guess that’s what you get when you become a Metroid), the control is a bit weird in a couple of respects — especially coming off of the past games. For one, Samus doesn’t bounce as much from her own bomb blasts anymore. It’s harder to climb through the air with explosions, as one can in every other version of Metroid. Two, often changing direction in mid-air will cause her to cut her jump short. This is probably me hitting “up” or “down” unintentionally, but the game can get kind of hectic at times (considering the new focus on speed, as well as HOW MUCH damage Samus takes in comparison to how much she gets back) and it’s annoying to suddenly find that Samus doesn’t want to finish the jump she was making when she’s hovering right over, say, an electrified pool or a huge boss monster.

Anyway. I’ve things to read and reply to. Things to scan. Things to write. Things to eat.

I found out how to hook up a Casio keyboard to the patch bay, today. Hooray.

Edit:

Aderack: You can see Samus’ butt cheeks now.
Smiley: Eee!
Smiley: Like in Super Metroid, when you use the special healing technique?
Aderack: Well, they’re covered. But… very tightly, for some reason.
Aderack: WITH her armour on. Her… pulsating Metroid armour.
Smiley: Well. Butt cheeks on a female are immune.
Smiley: To all attacks and weather.
Aderack: It’s kind of weird. The rest of her new suit (much more organic than her old one) is sort of skeletal-looking. Especially from the back. But there, right on the butt, the more armory part opens up to show the spandexy part. Specially.
Smiley: Buttastic!

Watch for falling spoilers (not too many, and nothing huge)

  • Reading time:6 mins read

Wow. Only thing is… Harmony of Dissonance is damned short. It was a fortuitous decision, in this light, for Igarashi to have jammed so many secrets into the game. I accidentally ended up finishing the game, getting what I think must be a luke-bad ending, in less than ten hours, with nearly 200% map completion, all but two items for Juste’s room (one of which I’ve since found), somehow without two of the magic books (again, one of which I’ve since got — it’s the one I put off getting for a while, since it was kind of stressful to race the marble (you’ll… see what I mean)), and without two of the relics (one of which I believe must be Dracula’s eye).

Circle of the Moon, to mention, I’m probably well over fifty hours into — and I’m still missing the Black Dog card. (It’s in the battle arena.) I beat the game it at around thirty hours or so (though I took my tubular time, as I tend to), but since then I’ve still been wandering around, collecting things, and generally powering Nathan up far more than necessary. In comparison to this nigh-pointless time vacuum, HoD is amazingly self-contained.

There are only two isolated map squares which I can’t seem to access, one in each of the two castles. One of them’s behind a big lump of rock (which isn’t there in the other castle), and the other one is in the marble-racing room. It’s just that there doesn’t appear to be any obvious entrance in the A castle.

I’m guessing if I’ve got all of Dracula’s parts and have the maps completely filled-in I’ll get a better ending than the one I received — not that it was really too bad, mind. And during the ending credits I was treated to one of the two high-res bits of music in the game. Might as well not spoil which one, but it was what I thought one of the better themes anyway. If audio was working properly on Edgar here, I’d probably have dubbed the tune off a while ago for referencing in my post the other day.

I’ve toyed around a bit with Maxim, and it seems like his game has been completely reformulated from Juste’s. While playing through the first time I noticed that HoD had a very classic, almost action-oriented layout to its stage design. Although there was a lot of wandering, whenever I needed to go somewhere it tended to be along a pretty straight route and usually through some new territory. What happens in Maxim’s game is that nearly all of the adventure elements have been removed. You can save, but that’s about it. Otherwise, it’s more or less become a classic Castlevania game. What’ve been mixed up are the paths available to you and the order in which you play through the castle. So far (though I’ve barely played into Maxim’s game at all) it looks like you’re constrained to a somewhat linear path.

Also, Maxim plays like a ninja. That’s about the best description I can give. He’s got Juste’s dashes, but on top of that his running, jumping, and attacking speeds are all about fifty percent greater. He’s got a triple-jump, a slide kick, and a normal ducking kick from the outset, and his normal attack is a quick sword swipe. He only has one special weapon, which is a strange and elaborate cross-like contraption. Maxim is just a speedy, strong character. His game ends up playing something like a cross between Strider and Ninja Gaiden (though without the wall-crawling). Considering that Ninja Gaiden and classic Castlevania play almost exactly the same, this seems appropriate.

The boss mode is actually fairly interesting, and the widely-reported secret contained therein, really is firing up my jones for a GBA compilation or remake of the original NES trilogy. (I mean, it’s perfect down to the sound effects. Even the irreplacable “whoop!” sample.)

Muh. So. There that is. I guess it’s better to have a condensed hunk of gaming goodness than a sprawling fifty-hour affair stuffed with needless filler and busywork. (God, why are so many games full of tedious chores these days, just in order to increase playtime? Who started this trend? Wasting my time is not the key to my heart, people. Let me finish the fool game already, so I can move onto something else!) There was barely a moment in HoD which felt superfluous, with the exception of some nasty backtracking in the last third or so. Once the teleporters are all located this isn’t as much of a problem, but — oy. And y’know, people always make what seems to me to be way too big of a deal about backtracking in adventure games. So far as I’m concerned, it’s all part of the exploration aspect in a game like Metroid or Zelda.

But remember what I said about the castle’s layout in this game? There are two sides to everything. The first time through, it’s great and really focused-feeling. The problem is, whenever you want to go back to someplace, you usually have to go far out of your way to return. Much of the time I just put off some smaller tasks which I knew I could finish in another part of the castle because I didn’t want to put in the effort to slog all the way back there through ten minutes of rooms and corridors. The game’s pretty good at directing you back to each part of the castle in turn, though. So generally you don’t have to do a ton of backtracking if you’re patient enough to wait until you’re back in the neighborhood. But the thing is, there are a ton of shortcuts that are present from the beginning but which are locked until very late in the game. The “skull doors”, for instance, exist mostly to keep the player from being able to revisit earlier sections of the castle without putting a ton of effort into winding his way back through his own footsteps. I don’t see why this is in many cases, except perhaps to keep the player from being distracted from the tasks at hand. This is fine in retrospect, but at the time it was kind of frustrating.

And yet this kind of a limitation has its interesting effects. Indeed, it kept me from bothering to revisit the start of the game until about eight or nine hours in. And there’s something… well not exactly poignant, but at least interesting, about finding one’s self preparing for the end by going back to where one began. Everything just went full circle, in a sense.

And come to think of it, isn’t this kind of the point of the series?

And yes, it’s even got the Konami code.

  • Reading time:9 mins read

Ken Burns’ Civil War series is showing on PBS this week, two episodes every night. I watched another chapter a few moments ago, but I just don’t have the patience to stick around for the second one. It’s interesting stuff, but this miniseries has perhaps the most soporific presentation I’ve ever seen. Must escape before I lapse into a coma. Sorry, Grant.

Onto other things.

Castlevania: Harmony of Dissonance has a very nice tone to it. It’s… a little harder to immediately get into and enjoy than was Circle of the Moon. It’s not as instantly agreeable, and it feels kind of… cold. But now that I’ve played a little bit, it’s opened up a lot and it’s become clear how much more well-made this game is in general than KCEK’s last effort. The control is much tighter. The level design is more interesting. And the entire thing is much more Castlevania-ey than CotM ever managed to be. It’s got that same slightly… uneasy tone that most of the main chapters have had, and which I’ve not felt for quite a while. All of the edges of the screen are crammed full of minute and curious gothic detail.

The game also has a constant sense of forward motion that was lacking in CotM. It feels like I’m going somewhere when I’m playing — like there’s a goal — rather than like I’m just puttering around randomly in an adventure game world. CotM was fun, but that was about it. A fun, Metroid-style platformer with Castlevania trimmings. HoD feels like Castlevania. You know how that map popped up between levels in the first game? You know how in level three you could see the final tower in the background as a goal? It always felt like you were making progress. And that sensation is back.

What’s more, and what is interesting — something I’ve not felt for a very long time with this series is that… old movie sensation. The first few games in the series were spattered with spoke holes in all of the title screens and menus, as if you were playing through a silent horror movie. And the games had an aesthetic and an atmosphere to match. HoD seems to bring this general feeling back. It’s not just going through the motions, it’s doing its best to do things right. Igarashi seems to really understand the heart of the series, in a way that KCEK just can’t handle.

As for the music: you’ve heard how awful it’s supposed to be. This is both entirely true and false.

To be sure, compared to what KCEK achieved with CotM just a year ago, the sound quality is a obviously lacking. A few months ago I spent an hour, one night, simply lying in bed and listening to the Catacombs theme from Circle of the Moon in a pair of headphones. Much of the music in CotM was borrowed and remixed from other games (mostly Bloodlines and Dracula’s Curse), but the music quality was higher than anything I’d heard on a handheld system before. And indeed, it was some of the best Castlevania music I’d ever heard. What’s more, the original compositions were absolutely perfect and memorable additions to the growing roster of Castlevania anthems.

This comparison is, I think, the greatest factor which initially makes the music in Hod so very startling, and for a while even a little grating. Although it might be interesting on its own right, the music is not of the same almost unreasonably high standard set both by CotM and by Castlevania in general. This just doesn’t sound like what you inevitably going to expect. Beyond its mere quality, the composition is also a bit odd.

That said, it’s not as bad as people say, and it has its own odd personality. Try to picture Darkstalkers music played on an NES. Now mix in the occasional motive from Simon’s Quest, and top it off with a few tunes from the original Gameboy games. That’s the HoD score, in a nutshell. It sounds like NES music, basically. But like Castlevania music. Only… a more recent kind of Castlevania music, played on an NES. It’s atmospheric and sprawling. As opposed to NES Castlevania music, which is more melodic and clever. Got it?

The thing is, the music here manages to set its own sort of retro tone. If you’ve played the NES games and the original Gameboy trilogy, I think it’s a lot easier to appreciate what’s been done. Try to take the music as a low-fi experiment, rather than a result of ROM budgeting. On its own level, especially in contrast to the high-budget presentation of every other aspect of the game, the music has its own interesting tone going on. If anything, I think it helps just a bit in adding to the “grainy” emotional texture of the game that I was getting at before. If there’s anything that Castlevania needs in order to retain its unsettling ambiance, it’s a certain offputting creakyness — and the music in HoD seems to do a very good job in maintaining this sensation.

Controversial? Certainly. But I think the music succeeds in its own strange way. Perhaps I’m being too forgiving, but I dig.

All of the other sound effects are great, though (further adding to the perplexing aural quality of the game). Something that strikes me: there’s a strange, startled “nAnI?!” whenever Juste is poisoned or cursed. I’m not sure if this is supposed to be Juste’s own squeak — as it doesn’t sound like the same voice who does all of the item crash screaming and the hopping grunts and so forth — or if it’s intended to come out of the monsters which are whapping him. I suppose the latter wouldn’t make much sense, so I suppose it’s kind of amusing to see a Belmont (especially as arrogant a one as Juste) lose his cool when things don’t go as he plans.

The control, again, is so much better and tighter and more… full-seeming than in CotM. Don’t get me wrong; I loved how Nathan felt in that game. But the control was generally pretty loose, and while Nathan always did exactly what he was told to, he didn’t seem to have much… substance to him. The entire game had that weird sort of a sensation for me, so it’s not just the control. But there was no heft. What flexibility he had felt both kind of messy and strangely contrived. Why did he suddenly get certain abilities when he did, for instance? Why was being able to push crates a special power? What the heck is that “rocket jump” special move? Where does it come from? Whenever I learned a new move with him, it felt more like it had merely been arbitrarily unlocked for me so as to allow me to progress.

Juste, in contrast, starts off feeling much more… rigid than Nathan. His dash ability is indescribably helpful, and it’s neat that he’s able to swing his whip around as in Super Castlevania IV. But he’s less of a jumping bean, he doesn’t start with a slide move, he initially can’t automatically twirl his whip as Nathan could. He’s certainly animated a hell of a lot better than Nathan, and his sprite is larger and more visible — but he’s… well, he feels more like a Belmont than a random platforming character with a whip. Just as floaty ol’ Nathan was great for soaring aimlessly around the open structures in his game, Juste has a much more satisfying kind of focus to him. What he loses in out-and-out freedom he gains in precision and, frankly, respectability.

Nothing seems to be wasted on Juste, and nothing seems to be arbitrary. His starting abilities make sense, and (at least so far) every time I’ve gotten a new one it’s been a pretty logical (and balanced) addition. Plus, if you’re missing a particular move from nearly any other Castlevania game — it’s apparently in here somewhere. Now that I’ve got a slide move and can automatically spin my whip around as Nathan did (although I could manually approximate this effect before), I feel like I’ve earned the abilities and like they’re natural extensions to what I started off with. They’re not just there.

I also like how carefully Igarashi has been to make clear the time period in which the game takes place, and exactly who the characters are in relation to the universe we know so far — from the box to the instructions to the game itself, there’s no mystery at all. It’s stated right out that fifty years have passed since Simon’s Quest and that Juste is Simon Belmont’s grandson. It says what he’s doing, what the relation of this task is to the previous game (chronologically speaking), and how uncommonly gifted he is even for a Belmont. And in the (commendably well-made) instructions, it quickly mentions that his magical abilities come from the Fernandez (Belnades) family.

I’m only about two hours in, but — as you’ve likely gathered — my impression is good so far. The game feels — again — more like a true Castlevania game than any I’ve played in a while. And there are elements I’ve seen from a bunch of other Castlevanias, here. The refereces are particularly heavy to the first two Gameboy games, to the NES trilogy, to the Dracula X series (which makes sense, seeing as how HoD can sort of be considered the third game in that subseries), to Bloodlines, even to CotM and Super Castlevania IV. And heck, the N64 games are even referenced slightly (what with the Fernandez name).

I think a few more things probably could have been done with the game, but in general I’m impressed up to this point. And I’m more confident than ever that Igarashi is the guy who should be heading this series; no one else at Konami seems to really get it the way he does. And even if the game does have its flaws, it feels real. It’s not hard to tell how much effort went into the game, and how devoted the man is both to the legacy of the series and to its fans. This isn’t something you get a whole lot in any form of art or entertainment, seemingly least of all videogames and film. And it’s exactly what was missing from Circle of the Moon. He’s got my trust for the future.

A short note: Is Ayami Kojima (Igarashi’s chosen artist since Symphony of the Night) of any relation to Hideo? They both work at Konami, after all.

Hmm…

The $10,000,000 Commando

  • Reading time:2 mins read

I keep typing these things off to random people as I sort them out in my head. It seems to make more sense, though, to dump them somewhere I can more easily dig for them later. So here this is.

Of course, Bionic Commando is a spin-off of Commando. We know this much.

It seems that the arcade version of Bionic Commando comes first. I saw it once in a LaVerdiers, years ago. I’m not sure if I ever got to play it, though. It’s super-deformed and action-oriented, but familiar. Apparently, Super Joe (from Commando) is the main character.

(As a note, Super Joe also is in a game I’d never seen before by the name of Speed Rumbler. He’s in a car this time, and someone kidnapped his family. It looks like Commando, only… with cars.)

The second game in the series is Bionic Commando for the NES. The main character is Ladd, and he’s out to defeat Hitler and save Super Joe. It’s an action-adventure sort of in the vein of Blaster Master or Metroid, with occasional overhead-view segments to hark back to the original Commando.

The Gameboy version of Bionic Commando (still the same title, yes) comes third. Super Joe has disappeared again while looking for a secret weapon known as “Albatross”. The main character is now Rad Spencer. It appears to play very similarly to the NES version.

Finally we get the Gameboy Color edition, Bionic Commando: Elite Forces. Super Joe’s gone yet again — only now he’s moved up to the title of Commander Joe. Maybe they figured a desk job would keep him from getting taken hostage all the time. No luck, though. Now there are two main characters — a nameless male and a female Bionic Commando, each of whom gets referred to throughout the game by whatever the player dubs them. The female one, with her purple pony-tail, seems to be the one given more focus. Also, the overhead-view throwbacks to the first Commando seem much more elaborate than before.

So:

[Commando]
[Speed Rumbler (?)]

  1. Bionic Commando (arcade)
  2. Bionic Commando (NES)
  3. Bionic Commando (Gameboy)
  4. Bionic Commando: Elite Forces (GBC)

…

Yes, I’m back from Otakon.

Pink Circle

  • Reading time:2 mins read

I now have a copy of Castlevania: Circle of the Moon for my HELLO KITTY PINK Gameboy Advance. This is the first real, legity-type GBA game I’ve gotten, and it’s… fabulous. I mean, it doesn’t do anything new; it doesn’t even particularly try. But it’s extremely solid.

If anything, it reminds me a lot of Bloodlines. Bloodlines was pretty, and very well-made, but it didn’t really do anything particularly new; it was just a good game that followed the standard Castlevania formula more or less precisely. Circle of the Moon is exactly the same idea — only it’s based on the modern, elegant, explorative, Igarashi-influenced image of Castlevania rather than the “classic”, action-based version of the game. So, it’s a terrific game; one of the best in the series. A great showcase for the system. But it’s nothing intrinsically special; just enjoyable and well-made and entirely appropriate.

That’s the only bad thing I can say about it: All it is, is a terrific game. No more. It doesn’t even try; all the effort was in making the game solid, playable, and entertaining. Not that there’s really anything wrong with that. If only more games had such a fault. Harmony of Dissonance, however — that looks to be something more. So I’m looking forward to it.

I’m really getting to like my GBA a lot, now. I’ve been going over eBay, looking for copies of the remaining original Gameboy games which I had, and were stolen long ago. Most of them, aside from Metroid II, I’ve been able to track down at no more than around five dollars (plus shipping). A couple are so obscure and strange that I’ll probably not find them anytime soon. But now that I’ve a system on which to play them again, it’d be nice for my collection to be restored to as it used to be.