videogames

The Five Point Shuffle

  • Reading time:3 mins read

Why did I try to shovel snow while wearing sandals?

So I’ve got my copy of KoF2001. The control is crisper and more responsive than I rememnber. The soundtrack, though otherwise unchanged, seems to contain higher-quality samples than the Neo-Geo version. Somehow it doesn’t annoy me as much as it used to. Maybe I’m just used to it by now? I used to loathe the soundtrack to this game, but now I barely even hear it even if I’m trying to pay attention.

There’s a movelist included, although — for whatever reason — it’s been tied to the taunt button. And it’s only available in practice mode, it seems. And there are not only a large handful of backgrounds from each of the earlier games (’94-2000 — particularly 2000; I think all of the stages are available), but all of the original, crummy 2001 backdrops? They’ve been remixed. They’re not as washed-out. Many layers of scrolling have been added, as has a bunch of extra animation. The painful racetrack level has simply been redone from the ground up. It’s still ugly, but it doesn’t make me feel ill anymore.

Problem is, none of the new backgrounds are available in the actual game. In practice and versus modes you can access any level you like — but in-game? It doesn’t even use the improved backgrounds. You just get the flat, drab, original versions. I don’t get it.

Haven’t touched the puzzle mode yet, as I’d have to unlock it. Not quite together enough to play a fighting game very well tonight, although I surprised myself by getting off a couple of K9999’s tougher DMs (exactly once, each — though on the first try, for the one).

Generally, seems like a decent port. It doesn’t taste the same as the DC version of 2000, though. I find this odd. 2000 seemed a lot like the ports of MotW and Last Blade 2. 2001… I’m not sure. Everything about this game is just a little off. It always has been. But the port follows this trend. Can’t quite place this feeling, yet. Not sure if it’s positive, negative, or neutral.

Is it just me, or does KoF2001 feel really… Korean? I never noticed it before. Neither can I exactly quantify why I say this. Something about the layout, and the design of the new characters, and the general overtone. Something about the exact kind of brightness combined with graininess and… almost disturbing oddness. Not a Japanese oddness, though. This comes from a different psychological place entirely.

Gangs of New York: It was. The Leonardo DiCaprio character was about the only uninteresting one in the movie, and (as the hero) he wasn’t really intended to stand out. Still seemed a little awkward, but I’ll ignore that under the weight of some of the achievements here. A ton of research went into the most throwaway details for this movie. And I was surprised by how large a part Boss Tweed ended up playing.

And now I’ve a better context for the burning of Barnum’s museum.

Kind of too tired to go into more detail at the moment. Lots of good stuff in here, though. Not quite sure about certain decisions and certain choices in editing, but there wasn’t anything which really harmed the effect.

Sometimes exaggeration — as in this case — is needed in order to get the point across. And I think this movie had an interesting and worthwhile point to make clear, in terms of the conceptions we’ve been handed about our history.

Phantasy Star Collection (GBA/THQ)

  • Reading time:1 mins read

by [name redacted]

Phantasy Star II, on a Game Boy. How surreal.

Here we’ve got one of the most important videogames of all time, prohibitively expensive at release for the then-new Sega Genesis. Now the game rests on a 1-1/2″ x 2-1/4″ silicon wafer, shouldered by both its predecessor and its successor. Together, the three games now go for less than thirty dollars, and are accessible anywhere you can tote your Hello-Kitty-pink Gameboy Advance.

( Continue reading at Insert Credit )

At the end of the time which can never be returned to…

  • Reading time:2 mins read

Without a doubt, the most meaningful moment of Phantasy Star: End of the Millennium, in my eyes: the opening sequence.

Wow. I mean, just… the power. The timing. The music. The choice of words (translation aside). The frankness, and yet the subtlety.

Especially after coming off of Phantasy Star II, and knowing what happened in that game, and the note on which it ended. We were… really left in a cliffhanger there. And now it’s shown what the results were of the catastrophes we all witnessed five years earlier.

Just… shit, quite frankly. How lucid and matter-of-fact it all is.

Every time I watch that intro, I get a chill up and down my spine. Sometimes my eyes begin to get a little bleary.

The game itself, I feel is in some respects the least interesting out of the entire series. It’s certainly the best made, but there’s almost nothing new in it. It’s not about new things; it’s about old ones; about reframing, about bringing everything together, and about closure on the most satisfying note possible. The game definitely has charm to it, and I don’t think there’s ever been a better gift given to a series’ fans than EotM — but in some ways it feels so much like every other RPG out there that it loses my attention rather quickly.

Also, in terms of the story and surrounding details, EotM has so much to say that it never really gives the player time to rest and to get to know the world again. It’s too busy throwing things out, one after the other. Twenty to thirty hours straight of exposition, in comparison to only brief glimpses at overt explanation or reference in the previous games. Maybe for someone with the energy, and who doesn’t mind being yanked around by the arm for an entire game, it’s a little more enjoyable.

Of course, I’m just being a sourpuss here. There’s really nothing wrong with EotM that I can see. But maybe that’s another part of why it bores me so much.

Still, it has its moments…

gah.

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.

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!

UDLR, Chu Chu Chu

  • Reading time:2 mins read

Oy. Anyway, I finally — after far too long — got a copy of ChuChu Rocket! Advance. I played around with it a bit back around the system’s launch last year, so I knew what to expect. And yeah, it’s ChuChu Rocket!. It’s… a little creepy, and generally gives me an oddly wistful sensation, to notice how precisely the game captures its original Dreamcast flavour. I mean, this game still feels like a Dreamcast game. It’s got the same atmosphrere to it that I’ve always associated with the system. Heck, for some reason Sonicteam even tried to emulate the original game’s web page content in the GBA version. If the GBA had only four face buttons rather than the mere two, there’d be almost nothing wrong with this version.

Odd that the GBA suffers from the same problem for which the Dreamcast was always criticized: too few buttons.

As much as I’m glad to finally have a copy around (especially for under ten dollars, as it was), I feel almost a little uncomfortable with the game. It’s hard to place the sensation exactly, and it’s certainly not the game’s fault. Maybe a bit of it is a lingering sadness over the Dreamcast situation which normally manages to stay more or less repressed. But there are some other factors in there as well. Something to do with Sega content on a non-Sega machine? Associations which I’m not willing to bring completely into consciousness? I don’t know.

Arr.

  • Reading time:3 mins read

It occurred to me just now that I approach games like a designer. Every game is a learning experience for me, and is judged in terms of the quality of its construction and its original content. It’s as if I’m giving the final okay on every game I encounter. Yes, this design came together well. Yes, I’m proud of this one. No, go away, Acclaim. I almost never even think to examine a game from the outside. I generally need to get inside the heads of the design team in order to appreciate the work. I absorb developer interviews. Every detail about the design process which can be revealed. I revel in picking apart. For ultimately, I guess that I want to understand the essence of the medium.

… I just find this revelation to have its subtle twist of irony, at the moment. Maybe it is about time. Heck, it was about time for something. And this is something. Further, it’s something I’ve wanted to do for most of my life. From my first experiences with videogames, my thought has been “I can do that” — and further, that I probably could do it better. I didn’t want to just play these things; I wanted to be a part of the process.

I’ve never been an outsider, in terms of videogames. It’s one of the few realms in which I can say this with no hint of equivocation. They’re one of the few things I get, inside and out — probably more so than a large segment of the people actually producing the things today. So why haven’t I been doing anything about that? And I don’t just mean blabbering my views, which I do endlessly anyway (albeit never in any official form). Hell, this is an art like any other. It’s obvious I’ve been itching to flex my muse, and it’s obvious that I’m never going to be satisfied until I at least try my hand at something bigger than Crullo: Adventures of a Donut.

… Although, hey…

I think I’m needed. And I think I’ve got something to say. And I know I’m good enough to do something about that, if I just keep true to myself.

I was saying that next year was going to rock, and I’ve been saying it for a while. And now I know the reason. I might be taking a bit of a stand here, but I do believe I’ve found my calling. It’s hard not to feel enthusiastic about that.

This is going to work. It’s as simple as that. I’ve never been so sure about anything.

A short note…

  • Reading time:1 mins read

Oh, heck. KoF2002 is released today.

Six years flew by from the excitement…

  • Reading time:3 mins read

Phew. Finally got KoF’96 working on my Saturn. For a while there I thought the gameshark’s RAM element wasn’t compatible with the game for whatever reason. I’ve heard that KoF’95 was one of the few cart-and-disc combo games which was put out for the system, and that would certainly be a nightmare to deal with. I was hoping that ’96 was a bit more standard, but the first couple of attempts led nowhere.

I guess persistence is the key. And the result? Not half bad. It’s nowhere up to the level of the Dreamcast ports in most respects, but aside from the (incredible amount of) load time, it’s pretty darned close to the original Neo-Geo version. Here are some observations:

  • MY GOD, the load times.
  • The sound quality is mixed. Many of the standard grunts are of a high enough quality, and yet the special move calls will sound like they were recorded through a pillow. Iori is a great example of this syndrome: “Hah! Huaah! Mrrfsobi uua Rroore da! Hwah! Hoh!”
  • As with Dream Match 1999 for the Dreamcast, the music stops and starts again between rounds. Unlike the DC game, there’s a reason for it: the ten-second load time between every two rounds. Also unlike DM1999, the music doesn’t just restart from the beginning. Rather, there’s a set point mid-theme for each tune to kick back in. This was pretty decent planning, I thought.
  • At least there’s interesting character art during all of the loading that’s going on. Amongst the more interesting shots is one of Ralf in his original Ikari Warriors garb.
  • Since the music is all in redbook (making for easy ripping), it’s of a very high quality. The full-vocal rendition of the Psycho Soldier theme is particularly impressive, as are Esaka Forever and the bit of Wagner that Krauser has going. However you also get the usual setbacks from direct-spooled music — particularly seek lag. There’s a lot of misalignment between the music and visual clues in instances such as the game introduction.
  • It might just be me, but I think the sound is in mono. Maybe I have my Saturn arranged peculiarly, though. I’ll have to check on this.
  • There isn’t as much flexibility as I’d like in rearranging the game controls.
  • Being from 1996, there is unfortunately no practice mode.
  • I haven’t seen any particular extras, but then neither did I expect any.

I’m now kind of curious about how ’97 fares on the system. I’m certainly not about to go out and look for it at the moment, but still.

All right. I’ve got other things to do right now.

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…

PROJECT RS-2

  • Reading time:1 mins read

Ikaruga, Ikaruga, Ikaruga!

Geh. I haven’t yet slept. I’ve been staying up all night playing Space Channel 5 Part 2 and… the above. The games are blurring together in my mind now… which might not be that bad a thing, considering how much dancing Ikaruga requires. They’re both similarly dynamic. And they both make my heart flutter as few things do.

And right before I bed I flip one last browser window open, to check if PA has yet updated. I begin to think: “Y’know, they should’ve mentioned Ikaruga by now…”

For my next demonstration, I shall change George W. Bush into a semi-dehydrated rutabaga. Just you watch.

Normal Mode

  • Reading time:1 mins read

Ikaruga is keen.