Nintendo Look - The Battle of Olympus

Talking about today's game without a mention of Zelda II is out of the question. No disrespect intended towards Infinity Co., Ltd. After all, this was one of their earliest games. We all had to start somewhere. Besides, I wouldn't be surprised if Yukio Horimoto or his wife Reiko were interviewed and a Zelda II-like steeped in Greek mythology was their intention all along. The so-called black sheep of Nintendo's action-adventure series sold over 4 million copies, but I don't think the developers wanted to cash-in with a mere clone. Anyone who has spent any amount of time with both games will see a pile of similarities tall enough to reach Mytikas. However, I'm not going to waste my time pointing out the obvious. My argument is that The Battle of Olympus deeply admires its inspiration. It upends traditional values with purposeful design choices, creating an experience that's equal parts familiar and twisted. 

Let's get started by talking about the very first enemy that Orpheus encounters: worms. Small, blue, and a bit gooey; these creatures set the stage for atypical combat. Worms can't be struck while inching across the ground. Instead, players must hit them while they're falling from the tree; or they must wait for the moment when the worm leaps off the ground. This game employs a philosophy I just made up called limited opportunities. Oftentimes, a battle is over the instant a player recognizes the threat in front of them. There's an orc standing in the way. Walk up. Stab. The threat is gone. There's a slime sitting in the way. Walk up. Crouch. Stab. The threat is gone. One could reasonably argue that the threat disappeared the instant they were seen by the player. When a monster has no agency, there's only one way a battle can go. Zelda II recognized this problem by giving spears to its moblins (orcs) and allowing bots (slimes) to behave erratically. The Battle of Olympus takes a lateral step by having its bestiary punish "walk-up-and-stab" strategies. 

The Satyr in Attica could easily be mistaken for Wosu. Both fiends run towards the hero with plenty of spring in their step. What sets Satyr apart is their ability to occasionally leap over Orpheus's club or sword, dealing more damage than a Wosu could ever hope to. Bats in Argolis and Peloponnesus can swoop down at one of two different speeds. Trying to predict which is a fruitless exercise. Players must wait for their opportunity to attack or run. A substantial amount of thought was put into seemingly generic encounters, which can trip up someone - like me - who was expecting something more straightforward. Oh, but there is one expectation that hasn't been subverted. Monsters love to push would-be heroes into bottomless pits. Next to Ryu Hayabusa and the Belmonts, Orpheus has the worst luck with chasm-crossing. 

What are we supposed to be doing besides squishing worms and falling in holes? Well, it's another girlfriend rescue mission. Saving Helene from the clutches of Hades will require players to seek favors from the remaining Gods. As is the case in Greek myths, the Gods are all a bunch of dicks. You're expected to keep a large offering of olives on hand for whomever asks. There are two problems with this setup. Olives only ever drop one at a time, so grinding monsters is required to get anywhere near enough. Also, dying erases half of the hero's olive stock. The Battle of Olympus, even with its unlimited continues & passwords, is still pretty damn tough. Redoing the grind because of a slight mistake stings way too much. You can bet your last toga that I used a romhack to alleviate this mess. Explorer Edition ups the olive drops by 16 times their usual amount. It's not as if currency is used for anything else. The closest thing to a healing potion is a flask that only appears after striking a certain pillar in Laconia. How did I find out about that? Obviously not through the game itself.

Far be it from me to suggest that The Tower of Druaga's influence on game-design is a bad thing, but I sincerely wonder why so many games had to hide stuff. The Battle of Olympus handles its secrets a bit more intelligently than most titles. Unlike Simon's Quest, every NPC has valuable information. The only catch is that sometimes it can be a little vague. An old lady in Peloponnesus heard from the crows that there's something special hidden in a tree. The only issue here is that... we're in a forest. Even a small forest has a lot of trees. I shouldn't complain so much, especially about a secret item whose location I've been aware of since the advent of Nintendo Power. It's just that like other NES games; nothing ever looks out-of-place. The tree that hides life-extending ambrosia doesn't have a distinctive mark. The Eye of Graeae opens hidden doors. Their locations are hinted at. That's it. I feel bad using guides for all of these classic games, but it's not as if there's a reliable alternative. The days of sharing notes at the playground are long over. 

Anyway, let's get back to part of the game that actually inspired this blog post. Like I said earlier, combat revolves around limited opportunities. What I didn't add though is that it's not always purposeful. Zelda II's undying legacy is that its movement is amazingly tight for a melee-based sidescroller. Managing space and closing distance is effortless thanks to great controls. This game though. It's a bit clumsy and doesn't seem fully aware of its limits. It's fair to point out that my muscle memory is currently engaged in a tug-of-war between two games: one of which I've played off & on for over thirty years, and the other I've played off & on for the past few days. However, I figure the instant anyone spends some time with The Battle of Olympus, the "Oh. Ohh. I see..." is going to hit hard. Performing a common leaping attack is made tricky due to Orpheus having an odd jump-arc. Jumping forward and striking an enemy doesn't work as well as it could. Most of the damage I take is just from landing on enemies while trying to strike them. It's pretty rough.

Link also has a fantastic shield that deserves a youtube essay or twelve. What Orpheus is lugging around barely fits the description. I wouldn't call his shield useless, but the instances where it benefitted me can be counted on one hand. Enemy projectiles usually end up striking the hero's enormous head. It took me three tries to get past Lamia without a face full of arrows. The fire-breathing serpents of Phrygia are a good candidate for that fire-deflecting shield I spent a few minutes harvesting skins for, but I still have to stand in the perfect spot and time my jumps perfectly to survive. 

Since so much of this write-up has been spent drawing comparisons, I might as well mention that a sizable chunk of The Battle of Olympus reminds me of Castlevania. Phthia is home to rock-dropping birds, fleamen-like monkeys, and stairs! Trying to climb a flight or two while getting harassed by wildlife is a nightmare. Orpheus is very slow on the steps, and he doesn't have subweapons to defend himself. This region also a ton of bottom-less pits. I respect what the developer was going for, and I hate it. What is it with birds, anyway? Contact with this feathered fiend or its rock does a whopping four points of damage. Video games just love their overpowered birds for some reason.

I'd say that the Zelda II and Castlevania parallels reach their respective peaks in Crete and Hades' Temple. Crete is a maze of doors where the hero is hounded by Iron Knuckles. The most consistent strategy I have for dealing with them is to shoot lightning with the divine sword, then immediately crouching and slashing so the enemy moves their shield away from the bolt. The final area is snakes, pits, and gargoyles. Gargoyles are special because they fly like medusa heads and chase Orpheus around. Yikes! At least the checkpoints remain frequent well into the finale. My attitude had shifted to "This fuckin' game." after getting shoved into an obscure hole for the 117th time. 

Overall, The Battle of Olympus is exactly what I expected from a cult classic. A world of Greek myths and legends is always interesting to explore. I'm also impressed by how each region links to one another. The game is derivative, but in ways that are endearing. It has some ideas that it likes to play around with. Still, I can't stop the feeling that I just bumbled through everything. Maybe that's how first playthroughs are supposed to go, but getting hit 10 times in order to hit a boss 7 times never feels good. 

Getting knocked in a hole I just climbed out of and dying is real shit.

 

Steam Look - Lurruna: The Island of Towering Automatons

While the rest of the planet sizzles like pork fat on a greasy skillet, Verlegrove sits at the front door of the next Ice Age. What could've brought a once-in-an-eternity blizzard to this Florida city? It has to be the Bermuda Triangle! Why, just the other day somebody reported a heat swell emanating from an uncharted isle located somewhere in that dastardly region. Intrepid explorer, pilot, and demolitions expert Dafne has answered the call for a hero. Wearing the scarf that grants unlimited bombs, he embarks on a journey to The Island of Towering Automatons. This must be Lurruna, the latest game by PD_CGT. 

Huh. What a weird feeling. Once, not too long ago, rewriting story introductions for my professional game reviews was almost as natural as breathing. Now, it's like putting on a skin that hasn't been worn in years, and unusual places are starting to itch*. I spent a few years writing for an outlet where I couldn't even say the word I, so my critiques often started with a bland rewording of the plot. It's business as usual afterwards, except I'd write "The controls are bad." instead of "I think the controls are bad." Figures I'd veer off topic this quickly in a review of a brand-new game but- Oh! Of course! Covering something that was released not just this year or this month, but this week has caused a long-lost spirit to possess me. The ghosts never really go away it seems.

Now, you're probably not wondering why I'm about to discuss a new game, but I'll tell you anyway. The developer gave me a review code. I'm not sure what me and my dead-end blog did to receive such an honor, but what the hell, right? Anyway, he figured that a fan of classic games would hopefully appreciate this lovingly crafted tribute to the era of fixed jumps and hellish enemy placement. To cut the tension early, I'll go ahead and say that yeah, I definitely appreciate what he was going for. Lurruna shows a remarkable understanding of what made games like Castlevania & Ghouls 'n Ghosts tick. The latter is something I want to focus on because... I'm not exactly a GnG fan. 

I've already bored you enough, so I'll cut to the chase by pointing out that I've made several nasty statements about Capcom's hop & toss series. However, there is something I see in Lurruna that's familiar, yet not to the point where I can feel the tickle of bile percolating in my throat. These comparisons aren't idle. Lefna and Sir Arthur have a lot in common besides being a couple of dudes throwing deadly objects at anything that moves. They live in an unapologetic world that delights in their suffering. You might recall stage 2 of Ghouls 'n Ghosts, and how it starts with an endless parade of turtles. Some walk, others bounce, and they don't stop coming. PD_CGT's game understands the assignment. Every step is earned through grit and determination. Being cautious isn't always enough. One must be willing to challenge the kind of relentless evil that'd drive them to insanity if the opportunity ever arose. 

Practice mode is very convenient.

Since we're about to enter a Hell that is equal parts familiar and unfamiliar, it's a good time to get accustomed to our protagonist. Besides the standard momentum-preserving leap, this pilot can perform a high jump, a long jump for crossing wide chasms with low ceilings, and back-flip to get a little extra height or escape danger. Bombs, his trademark weapon, can be thrown in three directions (four if he's in mid-air). However, keep those expectations in check. Dafne can only throw one bomb while leaping. This is a very important limitation to be aware of. No matter what the game throws at you, your moves have to be calculated. Jumping and mashing just ain't happening. Take some time to get acquainted with the controls, and they'll never fail you.

I've never really thought about it before, but there is magic in having a good arc. Dafne's bombs fly in an arc as graceful as a swan's neck. There is never any worry that an explosive will sail over the intended target. The blast radius is also really good at deterring the enemies that would attempt to do harm from certain angles. This element of the hero's repertoire is really thoughtful. It gives players a defensive tool, allowing them agency in nefarious situations, such as when they're in mid-air and only have that one bomb to save them. Bombs can also be charged with batteries to produce special explosions. One spent battery will create a wave-blast that fires left & right simultaneously, two produces a huge blast. Whomever is willing to invest a whopping five batteries can produce a powerful sustained explosion, great for the hardiest foes. Unspent batteries are cashed in at the end of each stage for extra lives. It's a little something for the pros to think about. 

After finishing the customary tutorial, you're presented with a choice: Practice or Professional. Take my advice and do at least one practice run. Each of this game's six stages are divided into several sections. Once a stage is completed, it as well as all of its residing sections can be revisited. This is a feature you'll want to take advantage of, as there are going to be a lot of trouble-spots to practice. I'm not doubting your abilities, merely pointing out the game is very intentional about when and where it pushes its players. Not only will new stages house new challenges, but the sections within feature all manner of devious tests. Also, they're designed with the expectation that you'll be fighting for every shred of progress. If an automaton is capable of respawning, then it will do so, and it will be at an attention-demanding rate. Oh, and fair warning to those who think they can escape; it's not likely. Trying to run past enemies increases the probability of a bitten posterior. Much like Ghouls n' Ghosts, you have to be patient while acting with urgency. It's a tricky balance that Lurruna gets right.

A large part of this game's tasty flavor is in how its weapon can be used in unique ways. For example, one way to deal with a robot approaching from behind is to jump and throw a bomb onto the ground below. Its blast will cut the pursuer down, saving Dafne the trouble of turning around and trying to fight on the enemy's terms. Creative battery usage can deal with a swarm of foes, damage a boss while erasing the rocks its throwing, and prevent headaches from materializing. I can't stress enough just how perfect the bomb's radius is. It's large enough to provide players a lucky break but also requires plenty of skill to effectively utilize. 

Lurruna is going to be tough. Besides the not uncommon threat of getting thrown off a cliff by an errant projectile, Lefna's health meter isn't easily replenished. While there are plenty of healing capsules lying around when you need them, they recover one block of health. The average attack takes away three blocks. In order for the math to remain in your favor, multiple sections are going to require pinpoint execution. This is easier said than done. Some sections involve trial & error. One small but notable portion of stage 3 is a short series of moving platforms that must be handled with specificity, and the simplest mistake carries the heaviest cost. Also, though you can never really predict it, do be aware of the one random enemy that could show up at the worst time. 

One curious aspect of the game's difficulty, at least as far as concerns my experience, is that mid-bosses tend to be surprisingly mean. I think it's because they take advantage of their surroundings, dividing my attention between multiple fronts. Stage 2's mid-boss has hands that'll pull the nearby walls in an attempt to crush Dafne. They provide just enough of a distraction for the main baddie to do some real damage with its lasers. Directly above, you can see me getting wrecked by Stage 3's mid-boss. A common element here is water, which turns bombs into oversized rocks. I have to account for the rising tide when I throw while getting pelted with projectiles. The end-stage bosses are often straightforward duels, which makes them a little easier to handle. I'd wager that this is intentional, since the hero will be at less than 100% by the time they reach the boss. Pro players might have a consistent boss-killing strategies that saves their bombs for 1ups, too. Consistency isn't so consistent when hazards are in play. Still, it does feel peculiar going through several lives just to defeat the stage 5 mid-boss only to then beat the final boss on the second attempt. 

All I have left to say is that Lurruna is a very impressive throwback to the things that have brought us turmoil over the years. This isn't a classicvania that added the fixed jumps and figured that's enough. It goes above and beyond with a series of limit-pushing encounters, all of which take full advantage of the hero's creative weaponry. I don't think I've seen a game this committed to the bit in quite some time. The first attempts at a new section rarely go well, but I was thrilled to see just how much a little practice and foreknowledge can improve every subsequent attempt. Getting through these trials with health & resources intact is divine. 

*Don't ask why I didn't just say "a coat" or something normal like that.

PC Engine Look - Override

About a year and several months ago, I dug through the PC Engine's shmup library looking for something to chew on for an hour. Eventually, I came across Override, a title that caught my attention because it was developed by Sting. You probably know them from such classics as Psycho Chaser, Melfand Stories, and The Jetsons: Invasion of the Planet Pirates. After a couple playthroughs, I came away impressed by their understanding of the genre's fundamentals and willingness to play with established mechanics. At the time, however, yours truly was still living a lie, acting as if he'd never write about a video game again. Override was set adrift on the river of pleasant memories. 

Fast forward to a couple of few days ago, I went looking for another PC Engine shmup to nibble on. Sure enough, Override had somehow returned. After giving it another go, I felt that there was something missing. Bosses were taking too long to destroy. Upon reaching the final boss, a sliver of a thought drifted across my mind. Last time I fought this thing, I cheesed the fuck out it. My ship, possessed by the faintest recollection, drifted to the corner of the screen. Sadly, the cheese strategy was lost in the ether. It wasn't until after that attempt I realized "Oh, my dumb idiot ass forgot about the charge-shot." With this reacquired knowledge, the next attempt went much smoother. I mean, it isn't often that I get a 2-loop clear with 22 lives to spare. 

There are two ways to play this game, and I've done them both. Ignore the charge-shot, and you'll be treated to a STG experience that's in-line with what most everyone else was doing on the PC Engine. The ship has a standard cannon that's strengthened via P accumulation. Four flavors of orbs serve as the secondary weapon. Purple is the side-shot, green is the- just use red or blue. Red's homing shot is actually quite good for most situations. Blue's laser is great against bosses and other heavy-duty baddies. While the ship can take four hits before exploding, it isn't uncommon to fly into the wrong situation and get struck four times in seconds. Recovering from a death isn't nearly as nasty as in some games, but it might take players a second or even third life to get their groove back. Don't worry though! I died a ton of times and still eked out a 3-life 1CC on my "Forgot-the-charge-shot" clear. Just be aware that bosses are going to take forever + five minutes if fought without secondary weapons.

In case I wasn't being obvious enough: the charge-shot blows Override wide open. Learn when to use it, and you'll cruise through the most frightening scenarios. This beastly weapon requires the player to let go of the fire button for a few seconds. They must also take great care to avoid enemies and their bullets, because a single hit will interrupt the charge. Once the ship starts flashing, a screen-filling, bullet-canceling, barrage of destruction will occur the instant that fire button is pressed. Use it to crush mini-bosses, erase bullet-spreads you'd rather not try to dodge, and cheese the absolute fuck out of the final boss. Sting made a shmup that was destined to be bullied, and you don't even have to be pro to do it. 

I didn't stick around to see if the third loop had any surprises. The differences between loops one & two were already negligible. Enemy bullets fly slightly faster, which compromises one or two safe spots, but nothing extraneous happened. Anyone seeking a revenge-bullet fix will have to seek elsewhere. This is an almost too easy game. The only way its difficulty can grow with the player is if they purposefully make things harder on themselves by ignoring the charge-shot and decent secondaries. Well, someone could attempt a no-hit run, but the ship is a little too chunky for such a challenge. There's a surprising lack of finesse to this shmup, though I can't be surprised considering its all-or-nothing weaponry. 

All in all, Override is solidly put-together. I just don't feel like playing it ever again. Do give it a go if you need a confidence-booster though. 

Loop 3, stage 2 with full health and 21 lives. This is where we part... forever.

2026 Special - Curse Crackers: For Whom the Belle Toils

Today's game is another mouthful. Curse Crackers: For Whom the Belle Toils follows the adventures of Belle, an acrobat living in a world of fantasy and mystery. This is a hop & bop-platformer with 25 stages, but anyone even dreaming about 100% completion will have to contend with 50. For the unaware, Colorgrave games start with a simple quest. In this case, Belle must rescue her boyfriend from Bonnie. Players who take the time to explore the world around them will discover just how rich with culture and history it is. Prior to the boyfriend-napping, there's an introduction that talks about the creation of the world and the battle that nearly ended it. Various characters throughout the town and elsewhere will bring up topics such as Knights, Mages, Titled and Subtitled. If one is willing to take the plunge, they'll discover that the lore runs extremely deep. To put it into perspective; the main story only takes up about 30% of the game. Without a doubt, this is a total win for anyone trying to make the most of their limited funds. However, the chance that they'll commit to finding the bottom of the rabbit hole depends on if they can stomach a wildly ambitious and lovely-looking adventure that's also a bit flawed.

Let's start off by discussing Belle. She's as a stunning talent in the world of acrobatics, and naturally the game gifts her with fantastic controls. Before anything else, be sure to enable the "sprint" command. It's just one keystroke or button-press away. This doubles her running speed, which takes a little getting used to but makes an enormous difference in all the platforming that follows. Now then, there are three jumps. The normal leap is the most common. Cross gaps and crack skulls with splendid maneuverability. High jumps offer extra verticality. Hard-to-reach ledges and oversized baddies are easy to deal with. Least common yet most satisfying is the sliding jump. Use it to cover long distances at high speeds, or to get across gaps where there are low ceilings. By the by, sliding is also good at bashing skellies. Enemies are liable to wear helmets or carry shields, so keep that offense mixed up. Movement is incredibly good. The varying jumps and ease in which they're all performed create a harmonious balance. Revisiting cleared stages to find secrets or collect medals is a great excuse to show off the full repertoire and dazzle through the danger. 

Belle's bestie is Chime; an enigmatic creature made of self-repairing metal. Yes, he's the perfect friend to throw at bad guys. Hurling is just as seamless as jumping, and Chime will cover long distances or rebound off of walls with ease. Belle can also bounce off of her bud to get some added height. Stylish players can pull off some neat tricks, but I figure everyone else can get by with the basics. It only takes one hit to smash a skull, which keeps the pacing nice and light. Chime is also required to solve button-pressing puzzles and bust through destructible objects. Speed is emphasized above all else though. Problems never take more than a second to solve. Curse Crackers is a very seamless game, never once betraying its Game Boy Color aesthetics with overcomplicated situations. 

A typical stage is divided into several sections, each a gauntlet that contains any combination of platforms, skellies, and obstacles. Checkpoints are quite frequent, so save the fretting over Belle's meager hit-points for the 100% completion route. Speaking of, there are a lot of secrets contained in the walls. Anyone with a tendency to press against anything suspicious will find quite a few valuables. The most devious collectibles often require edibles. By those, I mean the treats Chimes can munch on to change his form. All four are unlocked by progressing the story. If you need one for an otherwise unreachable secret, then you'll have to visit the bakery... often. 

Get used to visiting the bakery.

One of the game's more nitpicky qualities is that Chime's treats are only good for one use, and Belle can't fit more than one item in her pocket. I get that from a game-design perspective, having a large supply of goodies that enable flight or temporary invulnerability would break things, but there's always a middle-ground. If Belle uses a treat, but loses her life before grabbing the secret item, then she'll have to leave the stage and go back to the bakery. To their credit, stages almost never exceed two minutes, but all the same; time finds a way to add up. Also, even the guide-reliant players will find themselves replaying stages more often than they'd probably care to. There's so much to acquire, and the game ensures that it can never happen in a single trip. This is just me nitpicking though. Revisiting stages to grab a missing book or oath-sword isn't a huge ordeal. The books can be read for extra lore, and I bet something cool happens after enough swords are collected.

Treasure hunters bathe regularly.

My fondness for Curse Crackers doesn't really start to wane until the medal collecting. Several are tied to uncovering semi-secret areas or throwing Chime an exceptionally long distance, nothing strenuous. Time-medals, on the other hand, tend to be strict. A single death is usually enough to force a restart. Where it starts to get arduous is during boss battles, as the medal requirement will change to "no-damage". I think the bosses are fine when fought in a casual environment; not so much when Belle is an iffy hitbox away from another restart. The remixed bosses with their tougher patterns and obstacle-filled arenas could sear themselves to my soul if I allowed them the chance, but I won't. All-medals just isn't worth the cost to enjoyment.  

Replaying stages for speed and a modicum of perfection exposes the game's biggest fault: its propensity towards offscreen danger and death. Though the camera tries, it can't quite show all of Belle's surroundings nor keep up with her sudden bursts of speed. For most of the adventure, this actually isn't a huge problem. The path forward often provides acrobats plenty of room to strut their stuff. Level-design isn't intricate, but there's a lovely flow to it that's bolstered by the aforementioned movement. However, the optional stages really pile on the enemies and traps, creating problematic clutter. Fire-sneezing skellies and baseball cannons fire from outside the camera's view, but at least they're easy to predict. The most egregious of all are the spray-paint cans and crushing blocks. Cans bounce and fall, creating a projectile that can easily clip Belle from above. Depending on the structure of the current section, a crushing block could be sitting just out of sight, before making its presence known in a manner most horrific. One example that immediately comes to mind is found in the optional stage 4-5. Yeah, most of Curse Crackers struggles are tied to optional content. 

Colorgrave loves large and enigmatic ladies.

Altogether, I think this game sits in a rather strange place. A standard playthrough makes for a lovely little adventure. Taking the time to seek out a large portion of secrets and side-quests elevates the game quite a lot. Grinding out all the medals? Hunting down the most elusive collectibles? Attempting these tasks just brings the game down. I enjoyed Curse Crackers enough to give it two playthroughs: one at 51% completion and the other at 65%. I might've stopped short of the peak, but I'm also confident that anything past 75% is downhill. Still, this is an easy recommendation simply because it plays so darn well.

Nintendo Look - Faxanadu

Nowadays, it seems as if all action-adventures are expected to abide by certain rules. Interactions between the avatar and the enemies that accost them mustn't deviate from established norms, otherwise the game could get buried in endless criticism or fail to reach its intended audience. Even in the indie scene, there's this ideal that developers apparently strive for. If a monster is struck by a sword, then it should react in such-and-such a manner. If the protag is tagged by a projectile, then a mathematical formula that has been refined for the past four decades will determine what direction (if any) they're flung in. I'm not trying to say the games of today play the same, but it does seem as if they're too respectful of the classics, and quick to emulate what works. Of course, I say all this after muddying the waters with constant preaching about what good games should avoid doing. You and I both know that most of the words that land on this blog are 5:45 am ramblings. Games are imperfect creations, and that what makes them beautiful. Also, if being "perfect" means giving up a sliver of its identity, then what's the point? When I complain about a game doing something unexpected, know that it's out of love (or me just trying to bore myself back to sleep). 

The product that sparked today's diatribe is none other than Faxanadu, the 1987 Famicom adventure about a young man's quest to save The World Tree. It was struck by a meteor, causing all of the nearby dwarves to be transformed into crazed monsters. As most fans are aware, this game is a spin-off of Falcom's Xanadu series, but it's developed by Hudson Soft. I'm sure it was a partnership of convenience, because of the latter's familiarity with console hardware, but I have to say this: Hudson did a great job of capturing the spirit of Falcom. The World Tree is a remarkable menagerie of odd ladders, quirky jumps, and monsters in slightly obnoxious places. I love the wonderful eccentricities, like how the hero's speed increases when he's moving horizontally across ladders. Also, its curious decisions have aged surprisingly well. Gamers willing to take the plunge on older titles will find a lot to like.

Just so that we're all on the same page, let me talk a bit about how the game works. For the sake of convenience, today's protagonist is named Gabe. This playthrough was done with a romhack called Faxanadu Restoration. It allows players to name their hero, offers battery backup instead of passwords, and fixes a handful of bugs. That's right pendant fans! Now you can acquire an item that actually adds the 25% bonus to physical attacks instead of taking it away. Anyway, Gabe arrives at the Elves' ransacked kingdom. After receiving customary spending money from the King, our hero buys everything he needs: a weapon, a spell, potions, and keys. This game keeps it simple. All spells are damage-dealing projectiles, and potions restore their imbiber to full health. Thankfully, Hudson avoids Falcom's key fetishism. You won't need hundreds of keys to get anywhere. You will, however, need to make note of which doors require which keys. It's not a huge deal altogether, especially since the average playthrough is rather brisk. The World Tree is divvied into four areas, and even the most convoluted of them can be summed up as: go this way for the objective, go that way for something optional. 

Gabe has some quirks that will be important to grasp. First off, he picks up speed after walking a short distance. This has a slight yet noticeable effect on the distance of his jump, and the game is rather fond of its semi-precise platforming. Don't worry about spike beds or huge losses of progress though. Falling is usually a mild inconvenience. His dagger also can't hit the gooey spikey creatures that are low to the ground. I'm pretty sure this was done to teach players the importance of magic, as they won't fly over the heads(?) of the spiny slug thingies. Every monster in Faxanadu has an actual name, and they're all too complicated for me to remember. Hope you like vague descriptions instead! Anyway, Gabe has a decent amount of HP & MP, but these statistics remain static for the game's entirety. Doing and taking more damage will require better swords and armor. Shields can also be purchased. They serve to minimize the damage of enemy fireballs but aren't much use if the hero is positioned wrong or in a state of mid-stab. Spend time getting acclimated to the controls, as well as when to jump projectiles and when to block them. 

The intricacies of combat are what drove me to take a deeper look at this classic. Any fiend that walks or crawls will inch its way towards the nearest do-gooder. Some have actions that occur every couple of steps, others will perform a specific function when their target gets close. It won't take long to figure out a monster's capabilities, and there are never more than 3 onscreen at a time. However, their placement is rarely convenient. Flat, unobstructed hallways can be counted on one hand. Though the environment isn't outwardly hostile, it's often designed to benefit the enemy. There'll be plenty of situations where you have to navigate some walls and platforms to reach your target. Oh, and definitely be mindful of the fact that enemies love to stand near screen transitions and doors. There are these little guys with swords who wait outside homes or towers, ready to stab the unsuspecting. Keep a stock of four potions. Always. 

When an enemy is struck by the sword, it reels back and blinks, but there's no period of invulnerability. This is interesting since it creates options for the player. They can push forward and continue the assault, step back and wait for a counter, retreat, etc. The enemy's reaction can also differ. There are these largeish faceless guys who throw fireballs. Strike them at the right instant, and they'll spin around, lobbing their flame the other way. Creatures that are close to walls can be "bounced" against them with repeated stabs for a quick kill. Everything respawns when you move between screens, so take a moment to practice against troublesome foes. Bosses do tons of damage, but their set patterns make for some satisfying exploits. Crushing dragons with a series of well-timed jumping attacks feels really good, even by 2026 standards. If learning and picking apart every foe sounds a bit too stressful, then go for magic. The first two areas house a powerful (and expensive) death spell. A few shots will erase the most troublesome beasts, allowing Gabe to grab what he needs and escape.

Instead of stat-improving level-ups, accumulated experience leads to titles. Basically, the hero's title determines how much gold they start with after dying or loading a save game. This is a really neat idea, especially when you take into account when Faxanadu was released. There are few things more discouraging than dying in a tough dungeon and then having to grind just to afford a new stock of healing potions. Provided that you're visiting priests at semi-regular intervals, your title should award more than enough cash to replenish the essentials. It's a startingly convenient method for keeping players in the game, especially when placed to the likes of Metroid. Very different game sure, but I know at least one of you readers has felt the pain of sitting next to an alien-spawning pipe to farm energy pellets. Amazing how much has changed from 1986 to 1987. 

Don't bother with hospitals. Meat is cheaper.

Another fun aspect of Faxanadu is the inclusion of temporary items. Their usage varies from sparingly to never, but they add to the game's adventurous qualities, and even provide some clever routing strategies for professionals. You only need wing boots on two occasions, but anyone willing to hunt down a third pair is going to have a potentially incredible weapon for the final battle. Ointments provide temporary invincibility and are placed in really beneficial locations (like within a few screens of the final boss). Heh... Maybe I shouldn't be so obvious. Seriously though, clearing the room of monsters to uncover a secret item is a neat touch. There's not a ton to explore, but the rewards are plentiful enough to keep adventurers happy. 

The last time I played through this game had to have been... Actually, I won't bother thinking about. I get enough sad reminders of my age every time I bend my knees. Point is, Hudson Soft delivered an experience that manages to feel just like Falcom's classic era. Sometimes goofy, sometimes annoying, and not once did I ever think that my time was better spent elsewhere. There's an almost surrealness to the actions of the hero and the denizens that wish him harm. Learning how to survive in this crazy tree adds a richness that can't be easily replicated. Of course, if there's ever a Faxanadu-like, don't expect me to just automatically love it. The entire point of this whole write-up is to appreciate what makes a game special. It's not about doing things the right way, it's about doing them your way.

Nintendo Look - Gun-Nac

On the default settings, Gun-Nac a super-engaging blastemup that plays fast and loose. Shoot through eight areas, contend with an endless army of oddities, break out of dangerous situations with a variety of bombs. This is great stuff! An easy recommendation for NES fans. Also, there's a shop where players can stock up on necessities. Very cute. Very nice. I like buying things, especially in genres where currency is uncommon. It feels a little like cheating the system, even though 99 times out of 90 it's a necessity to survive. Since this is a Compile game, a thought crept into my skull, asking me what happens the instant I leave Easy & Normal's warm embrace. 

As it turns out, Gun-Nac on anything above Normal becomes a creature of chaos, an overwhelming entity that separates souls from bodies. Figures. In an attempt to distract myself from the hopeless Terranigma review, I tried hunting for something a little less draining. This shmup about flying cigarettes and murder-rabbits seemed like the right call. I probably could've gotten away with ignoring the other difficulties if I just slathered a bunch of generic praise. People tend to think very highly of this game, and they're not going a question a review they agree with. Instead, I couldn't stop digging, and now there's dirt everywhere. 

After covering three of their other works in the past couple of weeks, you'd almost believe that I knew a thing about Compile. Please, I'm nowhere close to pinpointing what drives them, but I'm foolish enough to try anyway. The general idea behind their 1990 effort is that everything is a threat. It's as if the development team looked around the office and thought how neat it'd be if mundane objects could fly around and shoot bullets. Then when the game is released, kids at school would talk about the time they got exploded by a Maneki-Neko. Also, I'm trying to avoid being too facetious. Something as simple as a clay pot can be harbinger of destruction. Tiny enemies don't seem like a problem at first. Shoot them 1-3 times and they're gone. That all changes when you realize that they were designed small so they could fill the screen. Blink too many times and get overwhelmed by a dozen different enemies sending a taste of Hell in Mage's direction.

Ah right, introductions. I'm so forgetful. Say hi to Mage. She's a shrine maiden who got tossed into the pilot seat of a starfighter after summoning mankind's last hope. This time around, there are five weapons to choose from. #1 is the basic shot that upgrades into multiple flavors of spread, hitting various angles at once when fully powered. #2 spits giant balls that fling needles to the sides. Feels like the precursor to Space Megaforce's #8, just nowhere near as good. Homing shot is #3. A good starter weapon, except it does the thing where it circles enemies it can't reach (such as anything underwater). The last two weapons are the flamethrower and laser. I figure most players will stick to the former, since it's a no-nonsense flame that doesn't leave much to chance. Lasers are cool, but their damage output and learning curve don't line up. 

A mid-boss to watch out for.

What sets the starfighter apart from the rest of the Compile squadron is its advanced bombing capabilities. Don't go in expecting big bullet-clearing explosions. Instead, find something that appeals to your tastes and stick with it. Bomb drops are identified by letter: F, T, B, and W. Up to 20 can be carried at a time, and they can be powered up by grabbing the same type twice in a row. The drawback is that improved bombs cost more. Also, you can't really afford skip any. Depending on the difficulty, you'll be spending them as often as you're picking them up. I know, it sucks having to rely on F bombs for anything, but that's life. Definitely keep a lookout for anything that resembles a pair of wings. These provide a huge boost to firepower and allow star-fighter to take an additional hit. It does make the ship a slightly larger target, so good luck hanging onto it.

In Gun-Nac, the familiarity of shooting down lines of enemy ships quickly gives way to mecha-bunnies, carrots exploding into smaller carrots, and other oddities. This sets the tone for all eight areas. Expect the unexpected, and don't leave survivors if you can help it. If something fires a homing missile, you can bet that missile will follow for an eternity. Most fiends tend to be native to the area. After destroying a moon's worth of rabbits, you'll enter the Fire Star zone. Obligatory fire stage? Yes and no. It is filled with objects that light up. Once the armada of matchsticks, lighters, and candles are wiped out; then it's on to the sea stage to cool off. I don't recall many shmups where fish and battleships team up. Future themed areas include wood, clay, coin, and fire (more fire?). Whatever you can think of is going to hunt you down.

The longer an enemy stays alive, the more likely you'll notice that it exhibits behaviors that are... let's just say uncommon. Typically, baddies move in predictable formations. That could go out the window depending on what you're dealing with. Area 1 has these spheroids that spit bits of rock towards starfighter. Inconsequential on Easy & Normal, but... this is becoming a pattern, isn't it? I'm going to have to skip around a bit, so bear with me. The spheroids that crumbled so easily before are devious and deadly on Crazy difficulty. Turns out the difference-maker was a couple points added to their speed and durability. You see, not only are they vomiting rocks, but the N-shaped pattern they move in has a tendency to corner players. Besides increasing their firepower, difficulty affects how much time an enemy has to act. Whatever that act is depends on them, and obviously you don't want to see it. Let's be real though, this is just the kind of madness that shmup fans live for.

If I'm spending nearly an entire paragraph describing one enemy, then think of how many different kinds there are in the game. Next, consider how their numbers and combined efforts could affect one's survivability. A lot of fish in area 3 won't leave the safety of the water until a ship gets close. Expect them to be paired with cruisers that cloud the sky with homing missiles. I've said it at least once before, but someone being good at dodging bullets doesn't mean they're good at STGs. It's a lesson I've bumbled into countless times. Enemies in Gun-Nac don't need a DaiOuJou washing machine's number of bullets to take anyone down. They have specialties, varying characteristics, and a talent for putting themselves exactly where players don't want them to be.

You know what's really crazy? This is a parody shmup, but not in the sense that penguins are manning the cannons or anything like that. The jokes run deeper, as if they're poking fun at game mechanics. Let's go back to the cute little shop that Mage visits in-between areas. Seems useful enough, right? Purchase rapid-fire upgrades, get a new weapon, order bombs to be delivered in future stages. Now, think about how the shop becomes exponentially less relevant as time goes on and the difficulty increases. Money has a habit of disappearing as quickly as Mage's starfighter eats a bullet. Pick up every bag of cash that floats onscreen if you want. None of it matters the instant a life is lost, even if the next arrives a second later. They don't even award points when picked up! 

Frankly, I think Compile is too good to leave a half-baked feature in one of their games. The shop becoming almost entirely useless after the second area was a choice. It gave the developer an excuse to continue throwing bags of cash at poor players. When someone needs a power-up, a bomb, or a new set of wings, getting money they won't live long enough to spend is literally a prank. I'm in the final area trying to do something that isn't dying horribly, and dollars are still flying my way. Basically, a third of all item drops are worthless. This would be a serious problem in a serious game, but here? Just a laugh at the player's expense. No big deal. Also, Gun-Nac is already generous with the extra lives. Giving players exactly what they need at all times would crash the difficulty balance.

With the right weapon setup, you could take a smoke break during area 3's midboss and get all the spare lives you need.

For the sickos out there, one of the options that can be ticked on is "Ricochet". This turns every destroyed enemy into a revenge bullet. Since it's a separate from difficulty settings, this modifier can be tacked on to create new challenges. Keep in mind though that the game defines "enemy" as anything that can be destroyed with basic weaponry. If a large object splits into several smaller objects, than that's several revenge pellets heading your way.

No matter how you decide to approach Gun-Nac, know that you'll be treated to Compile's typical high-level quality and replay-value. I talked a lot about the insanity packed within, but really, you could stick to the default settings and never notice. This is a lovely shmup that just happens to have an extreme side. Definitely give it some time if you're a maniac, a maniac-in-training, or just looking for 8-bits of fun. 

Super Nintendo Look - Terranigma

Fair warning, this look at Quintet's biggest Super Nintendo game is going to be rife with unmarked spoilers. If you haven't already played Terranigma, then drop everything and do so. Seriously, don't even humor the idea of skipping out on a masterpiece. Anyone not already well-familiar with the product I'm about to discuss should leave right now, unless they want their first experience to be tainted. Still, and this is being said with all sincerity, even a cynical bastard such as I can't get through this game's ending without a face drenched in tears. It's so beautiful. 

Since I'm being honest, this is not a review I wanted to write. Terranigma is a grandoise epic about Earth's resurrection. Note the word; the creation of Earth and all its inhabitants already happened. However, the planet is trapped in a cycle controlled by Light and Darkness. Every, oh I don't know, 4.6 billion years; there's an apocalypse that wipes out everything. My estimates could be way off, but the point is that the world is governed by endless death and rebirth. A young man by the name of Ark inadvertently opens Pandora's Box, setting off the latest round of planetwide destruction. Now he can't go back to his home in the underworld until resurrection duties are finished. Bringing a dead planet back to life, uncovering a diabolical plot, and breaking the cycle shouldn't take more than 15 hours. Nevertheless, there is a gravitas to the adventure that makes it extremely difficult to discuss. I keep getting held back by this belief that whatever is said has to be significant. Every line must provoke thoughts, every paragraph a whirlwind of complex analysis. 

This is about the time the cynicism takes over. Being a cynic is easy, especially these days. How am I supposed to believe in the dream that's being sold to me? Terranigma, for all its ideal visions of the future, failed to consider our complete inability to learn from the past. With every passing day, we drift further from the society that actually seeks to better each other's lives. Imagine how easy modern life could be if we didn't have a Dr. Beruga to deal with. Instead, we have dozens. The saddest part is that these madmen that hold all the wealth and power can't even be mistaken for geniuses. I can't look at a game that believes so hard in a bright future without wanting to see it crushed to bits. We had our chance, and we blew it. Stop with the reminders of what could've been, it just comes off as hokey self-indulgent schlock. 

Granted, the Earth depicted in this game is nowhere near a utopia. Apparently, the frequent cycles have done little to avoid the atrocities humans have inflicted upon each other. Everyone caught in the time loop might play a different role, but the events that shaped the world (as horrific as they've been) remain unaffected. Still, there's an undercurrent of hope and a belief in humanity that makes me want to wretch. If Ark can break the cycle, then surely a new age will begin. There's a part of me that sees it all play out and thinks that his dreams aren't dead yet. Holding onto inspiration is hard, because simply trying to live does so much to rip it out of my hands. Nevertheless, Ark sacrificed everything to share his dream, and I can't just wallow in self-pity until the remaining years tick away.

Or maybe I can? Terranigma is a work of fiction after all. What if the Earth it depicts isn't ours? Maybe we're just a hundred or so years away from the big reset, one of many Earths that got lost in the cycle. I say this because, even with all the tragedy that had occurred in the "perfect" world, there's still a sense that everyone has a place in it. People have fulfilling careers, take care of each other, and there certainly isn't child slavery like in Illusion of Gaia, or you know, the real world. It's just my interpretation, and it wouldn't be surprising if Quintet seriously believed in us but only had so much development time to work with. Corners were cut, and the undesirable aspects of society were reduced to a handful of scenes. I noticed that the painter at the height of his success no longer paints and instead stares wistfully out his window. Sucks for him. Still, I'd be lying if I said I didn't care about the unhappy artist. That's one of the themes uniting the ideal world we'll never be able to live in. Things shouldn't exist to be commodified. Yet, again, we're so far from away such idealistic thinking that I don't even know why I brought it up.

As for the game itself, there's simultaneously a lot and very little to talk about. Here and now, I'm going to suggest the Redux romhack. Along with a much-improved translation and numerous tweaks, the hack fixes two of the original game's biggest problems: Bloody Mary and Dark Gaia. Instead of being the two outliers that are somehow a hundred times tankier than anything else in the game, these bosses represent noticeable yet manageable jumps in difficulty. Players no longer have to rely on specific magic ring setups and/or over-leveling to finish the game. A lot of work was put into balancing the combat difficulty. Monsters hit harder, status effects are more common, and these are all great changes. Level-ups and equipment upgrades are still valuable, but mastering the spear and knowing enemy behavior goes a lot further. 

In terms of movement and combat mechanics, going from Soulblazer & Illusion of Gaia to Terranigma is a revelation. The amount of freedom Ark has in his steps is astonishing. Enemies also move with a level of finesse that makes the previous titles almost rigid. Interactions shared among the hero and his adversaries might be a bit lacking compared to the best action-adventure titles, but they're still really impressive. Tactically diving through foes with the dash attack always feels great. Adversity staying on the squishier side makes battles flow really well. I just really like how there's this constant motion. Actions lead into other actions, and there's almost never a reason to stop and wait. Running and jumping, especially in the 16-bit age, has rarely been this good.

By this point, Quintet has mastered the art of the dungeon. Each demon-infested locale is extraordinarily paced. The goal is almost always to reach the end and defeat the boss, but the way there is often broken up by a variety of great encounters and puzzles. At no point does the game lean too heavily into fighting or problem-solving. Bloody Mary's Castle is still amazing, but I also have to recognize the merits of The Great Lakes' Cave, Louran, Zue, and numerous other dungeons. They all do quite a lot to differentiate themselves, ensuring that repeat playthroughs never get dull. 

And really, it's like I said way back; there's a lot of magic to experience. I complained a lot about the state of the world, but its beauty is undeniable. The resurrection scenes still blow me away. The characters, even if some are underutilized and disappear for large chunks of the narrative, are convincingly realized. Seeing a city develop is also really interesting. Maybe not as interesting these days, but eh... it has charm. I'd say the only parts of the game that really feel dated are Columbus being one of the good guys and the citizens of Yunkou speaking semi-broken English. 

There's probably a lot more I should say about Terranigma, but I've scoured the four corners of this wasteland of a brain and turned up very little. Wonderful game, truly, but there's always going to be a disconnect. It's a vision of a world I'll never be a part of. Sucks for me.