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.

PC Engine CD Look - Sylphia

Sylphia is your everyday tale of a hardened warrior fighting to protect the innocent, getting struck down by a surprise attack, only to be reborn as a winged demi-goddess with a mastery of the four elements. Well, maybe it's a every other day tale. I had originally planned on letting this shmup disappear like so many other vague yet pleasant memories, until I read that it was developed by Compile. Almost immediately, other reviews were tossed on the backburner as I revisited a world of fantasy and tiny arrows. Call me shallow, because I will gravitate towards recognizable names.

Whereas Seirei Senshi Spriggan had a learning curve and various complexities to explore, this title opts to cast its net wide, attempting to snag a fanbase that doesn't cut their teeth on Caravan Shooters. The most noticeable feature is the inclusion of a health meter. It'll take three hits to knock Silphia out of the sky, and I'm not talking Darius hits either. Getting shot by a giant laser doesn't count as five. Eat something harmful, enjoy a temporary reprieve from damage, and repeat two more times to achieve a loss of life. That's pretty generous. At least a couple of times per stage, a heart will float in the heroine's general direction. Collecting it fully restores her. Alright, that's kind-of overkill. Extends are awarded every 70,000 points. Sheesh! Talk about ridiculous! Forget the teeth-cutting, because this shmup might as well be cotton candy.

Am I fine with this? Oh, it's not even a question. I don't need my semi-daily dose of regurgitated projectile vomit to hit harder than a sack of hammers. An easy STG that has its shit together is always nice to have. Sylphia is a marriage of solid fundamentals and varied encounters. Robust, filling, and still sharp enough so that I can't sleepwalk through it on any difficulty setting above Easy. Plus, there's a bit of a raw thrill to actually feeling powerful. Sitting in the cockpit of the most advanced warfighter means so little to me when I'm a thumbtack away from obliteration. Being a demi-goddess with appropriately destructive capabilities and having anywhere from 9 to 39 "lives" to expend is like sweet ambrosia... or Golden Graham cereal bars. I'm sure I'll feel differently tomorrow, pretending as if shmups with health meters are illegitimate, but for now... let's sip from the cup of immortality.

Further straying from the madness of the previous Compile works I've covered is the selection of weapons. There are only four this time, and none are designed for niche circumstances. Wind is the easiest to use. Great coverage, solid damage. Water is divided into primary and secondary shots. The secondary fires opposite of the direction Sil is moving. Fun and rewarding to master. For raw power, nothing beats Rock. It crushes bosses with the quickness. Takes awhile to get used to do though, since it requires staying at mid-range. Also, enemies that fire a lot of destructible objects render it almost useless. Totally useless is Fire. Homing fireballs sound useful, but the damage from both primary and secondary is laughable. Use it if you've already no-damaged Super Hard mode, want a greater challenge, but don't want to move on from Sylphia. The heroine also has a giant laser. Seconds of invulnerability, huge damage, requires several gems to charge. It's cool.

This game's strongest asset is its variety. Each stage has its own series of problems that need solving. Granted, there's only so much that can done with shooting and/or dodging, but the developers made it work. There's something new to look forward to, and the newness isn't worn out by becoming some overbearing mechanic that drags on for five minutes. There's a consistent, fresh cycle that doesn't reach exhaustion nor boredom. The Tower stage keeps it cute with rock-throwing titans and a chimera mini-boss that leaps to keep up with Sil. At no point do the titans line up in rows to create mini-meteor shower. Gimmicks stay gimmicky in order to keep the player's attention on what matters. Also, at least as far as I've noticed, it's the little guys with the little bullets that do the most damage. Gear-heaving statues, giant-tongued clouds, and many other oddities give the world texture. It's not always about threatening players or trying to steal their (many) lives away. Though the difficulty isn't appropriate, it still feels like our heroine is battling the underworld in its entirety. That's the secret to a fulfilling adventure.

A mid-boss that's just begging to be milked (for points).

Sylphia is also quite good as a teaching shmup. Its weapons, stages, and bosses all dip into concepts common to the genre. They're presented to players without uttering a single word, training them for a potential future in an unforgiving warzone. As early as the first boss, the value of using the entirety of the screen to avoid danger is effectively communicated. Spatial management, positioning, all of those subtle yet essential qualities become more pronounced as players move onto the harder difficulties. I don't know how much value a professional would see in this kind of game, but I appreciate what it's doing. There's plenty to learn, and I don't feel like an infant platypus when I make a mistake. The enemies getting tankier on Hard & above is a questionable decision. Most bosses won't survive for more than a minute regardless, but it does affect certain enemies. The grey blobs in particular have a better chance of landing a hit before they're destroyed. Well, adapting is learning, so I guess I can't question too much.

If you need a generic conclusive paragraph, then I'm afraid you'll have to make one up. There's not a lot else for me to say. I like the game.

Super Nintendo look - Skyblazer

Today's look is at a game that's sat outside my radar for over thirty years. When Skyblazer was the newest game on the Super Nintendo, I took one look, thought "This is by the Hook team, isn't it?" and never paid it a second thought. By Hook team, I'm referring to the 16-bit game that was published by Sony Imagesoft, and not the Irem beatemup. The fact that I had to make the distinction goes to show how ubiquitous the licensed brawler was in the 90s. Anyway, Hook was an extremely "there" game. It existed, I played it but couldn't feel one way or the other about it. Not being disliked - let alone hated - isn't the worst thing to happen to a video game, but I guess I feel differently. When I have a complete non-opinion on a game, there's no incentive to check out its follow-up. None of the "Alright! I'm excited for this!" or "Well... Maybe this will better." to drive me towards giving it a go. 

This is, of course, an exceedingly unfair treatment of Skyblazer. For one, it definitely improves upon Hook. There's ambition, flavor, and a creative spark. Secondly, I like that the development team took a few risks but held back enough so that players didn't have to suffer for them. If I had actually bothered to rent this game back in the day, I would've realized that it sits under the "Perfect Rental" umbrella my millennial ass always mumbles about. Having a world map, stages that can be played (and replayed) in any order, and an almost continuous supply of 1ups massage those delicate parts of the brain. Kararu being just a few wrong moves away from death never bothered me in the least. I still finished my first ever playthrough with nearly two Konami Codes worth of spare lives.

Before we continue, a plot summary is in order. Ready for it? Here:

Okay, let's get on with discussing the game. 17 stages of action-platforming stand between Karura and Ashura. Your job is to navigate his somewhat large hurtbox around all manner of demons and obstacles. I have to get the obvious out of the way early. While the man certainly isn't lacking for talent, practically his entire body is at risk of getting poking by the extremities of everything that has ever wished harm upon him. A lot of the damage he takes is due to incidental contact. This isn't helped by his standing attack - the button most players gravitate to - being less-than-amazing. I don't want to harp on the subject too much, since Karura's jumping attack is the better option for most encounters, but the most straightforward move being the easiest to flub is a strange look. Watching in horror as my skyblazing man whiffs the jab and eats a potentially fatal response is not an experience I can ignore. Still, it's an invaluable move in the right circumstances. Punching enemy projectiles out of the air never goes out of style.

This probably isn't accurate, but still.

Karura's movement is interesting in the sense that it feels very loose, almost to the point of slippery, yet not once (in my playthrough) did he ever unintentionally run off of a ledge. I think I might've even had to be a little more forceful than usual when trying to push him over edges. He's also sometimes not 101% cooperative when climbing onto ledges, but there's only so much I can hold against him. What I'm trying to say here is that platforming is really solid. Moving briskly through a multitude of scenarios feels good. The description "like the wind" keeps bouncing around my skull. Actual flight is limited to a few specific stages, but Kararu has so much float and control in his jumps that I rarely noticed a difference. It's that Hook influence, probably. All this maneuverability pairs nicely with the air-attack. Enemies tend to be squishy too, which gives combat a nice flow. 

Skyblazer's level-design is generally forgiving. Though deaths are sometimes more frequent than in similar games, I can't imagine anyone hurting for extra lives. To add to this, checkpoints are very common, which is good for those rare occasions when it isn't totally clear why a particular action led to death. I bring this up because one of the stages is a basically a series of wind currents over a massive pit. Something that I didn't immediately catch on to is that the gusty corridors that push Karasu left or right don't prevent him from falling. It's one of those trial & error deaths that's easy to write off because it resulted in less than 30 seconds of lost progress. The one section that cost me the most lives was an elevator that's promptly filled with armored foes, notable for being able to deal four points of damage in one strike. Karasu starts every fresh life with four points of health, so... yeah. I'll take the blame for this scenario, since I tried multiple strategies that failed spectacularly, when all that's really necessary is smart usage of the invincibility spell.

Wait, there are spells in this game? Oh, shoot. I'm always writing these damned reviews out of order. Defeated bosses often cough up a new spell for Karasu to make use of. MP restoratives are extremely common, so it's worth experimenting to see how they make the hero's life a little easier. However, since potions aren't liable to drop during a boss battle, I'd often stick to what's practical. There is nothing more practical than the almighty healing spell. Just be mindful that using it immediately after taking damage means giving up the short period of invulnerability. Challenge-seeking players might want to consider ignoring the most practical application of their MP, but that will push the large hurtbox issues to the forefront.

I must point out that Skyblazer tends to prioritize problem-solving over tests of skill. This is most evident in the boss battles, as it's often to the player's benefit to reassess their strategy. Telling yourself, "I'll just dodge harder this time!" isn't going to work. The thoughtful approach to defeating an arch-nemesis varies between requiring multiple stages of setup to just kicking the damn thing and running away. You'll stumble onto these solutions even when you aren't actively trying, and they'll work every time afterwards. By the way, these are observations, not complaints. Considering the fragility of Karasu's existence, I prefer boss battles that test ingenuity over reflexes.

To sum it all up, this is a game that I think every Super Nintendo fan should play. Yeah, definitely an ironic thing for me to say considering I went the past three decades playing every game besides it, but eh... I'll stand by my statement. The adventure is fun, the music is great, and the fact that the dev-team opted for Hindu mythology instead of something tired like Shinto has to be applauded. I won't go as far to say that this game is S or even high A-tier, but surely anyone with an hour-and-a-half to spare deserves to treat themselves. 

2026 Special - Rabi-Ribi

Don't be like me and hop into Rabi-Ribi expecting just another weekend fling. Not to sell other games short, but I'm on a tight schedule! Experience a world filled with ladies in small outfits populating the screen with tiny projectiles, complete a few mildly challenging exercises, and then toss together several paragraphs that'll go unread. That's supposed to be enough for me, and yet... I'm staring into the void again. Oh, it's carrot-shaped this time. Very nice. Seriously though, how could a bullet-hell metroidvania about a hammer swinging bunny-girl lead me to the brink of insanity? It's quite simple, really. A 15-hour playthrough with 90% completion still leaves me feeling hollow. There's a whole ocean out there, yet I'm still standing in the ankle-deep water. 

Part of why I feel the way I do is because of the difficulty setting I chose: Novice. The game calls it a good choice for newcomers, but I can't even say the word aloud without my tongue feeling like it got stabbed by a thousand needles. Novice is like, one difficulty above the "infant monkey" setting in home ports of Psikyo shmups. If I was a sensible person, I would treat novice as just another word, rightfully ignoring any criticism for choosing Rabi-Ribi's second-easiest setting. Well, considering I'm about to fight myself over whether or not we should do another playthrough, sensible is just another nonexistent word. 

Apologies, but this is a subject that I must dwell on for an inordinate number of paragraphs. Challenge, and how we approach it, is not a line that goes up. Every life experience, the current mood, and multiple other factors contribute to our decision to start with the easier or harder difficulty. Speaking for myself; it's been a rough year. Financial and Mental stressors are piling on like the worst game of Puyo Puyo I've ever played. Normally, I wouldn't hesitate to tackle a barrage of firepower, but the worrying possibility that I'd be pounded by a single boss for 10 hours straight got under my skin. Contributing to the decision were reviews from other players, lamenting how the level-scaling kept them feeling slightly underpowered. Seems weird for Metroidvania, right? Couldn't they just find a bunch of upgrades and then smash the boss that was troubling them? I guess not. 

The hardest part about relaying a game's difficulty to others is that everything is relative. What might be a herculean task to me is hardly a sweat to you. Yet, we basically ignore all of the possibilities to conclude that either I'm bad at the game, or you're good at it. Also, this being the internet, the answer defaults to "I'm bad at the game." I know I've mentioned it before, but we've created a culture that eschews nuance. Defining difficulty feels like a subject that the community doesn't actually explore. Instead, we take the general opinion and swing it wildly, bashing anyone who is bad at a game and/or chooses the easier settings. The world is not one-dimensional. We don't arrive at the same cliff at once and then shame whoever isn't willing to climb. In the end, everyone is on a journey of self-actualization. Whether that means experiencing everything or being the best at something is entirely up to them. 

Even with all of this in mind, it's still hard for me to definitively state which of Rabi-Ribi's difficulty settings will provide the most fun. Fun is a nebulous word anyway. Some people get a lot of entertainment out of running into a brick wall of a boss for days at a time. Since I'm already behind schedule, I'll just go ahead and say that I didn't find Novice mode to be too easy or too hard. Does that mean it's just right? Not really. The point that I've done a fine job of avoiding up until now is that this is a very particular game. It demands a level of commitment that sets it apart from other... bullet-hell metroidvanias. A true example of the niche within the niche. 

Erina is a bunny-girl on a mission to unite the 20+ wayward souls of Rabi Rabi Island. There are a lot of mysterious and magical ladies in this strange world, and it's impossible to talk to any of them without starting a fight. These gals hang out in all sorts of weird places, so expect to do lots of exploring and traversal-power gathering. Each place is remarkably large by genre standards. Though they aren't complicated labyrinths to get around, there's quite a bit of stuff to collect. Also, most locations are open-ended enough to be tackled in non-linear fashion. Defeated bosses as well as upgrades are factored into the game's level. Higher levels mean tougher minions and boss-battles. I think the difficulty setting affects the cap. For novice players, it's 49. The highest setting is probably in the realm of 500, but that's just what I've gathered from reading community posts about EX ultimate superbosses. This is a dense game! Additional modes, post-game challenges out the wazoo, unlockable difficulties with horrifying names like "Bunny Extinction"; it's a lot. Even if one were to skip out on the DLC, they'd still have enough to do for possibly hundreds of hours.

Of course, this all depends on if they're able to gel with the game's unique mechanics. Every woman Erina confronts is a master in the art of screen-filling chaos. The catch is that while our heroine has a tiny hurtbox, her maneuverability is very grounded. She moves like this were a hop & bop SNES platformer. Evasion options do grow over time, and there's plenty of bullet-dodging tech like jump-cancelling. In most cases though, the best you can do is watch, look for an opening, and hop through. Since we're nowhere near the Lunatic settings, those openings are pretty big. Before we continue, a bit of knowledge you might want to keep in your back-pocket is that there's an NPC who can lower or increase the difficulty. Visit them if you're sweating too much or not enough. Also, even if the game starts fairly easy, do not under any circumstances expect it to stay that way. A lot can happen in the 10-15 hours a typical playthrough will take. Even Novice's post-game is no joke. 

Erina's weapon of choice is also uniquely limited. Smashing opponents with a hammer sounds good, until they remind you that they counterattack with Touhou spell cards. Since the bunny-girl can't mount a prolonged assault, she'll have to make the most of every opportunity she gets. The hammer has a variety of moves that can be linked into each other, and will stun opponents long enough to get a full combo in. Button-mashers tend to be bullet-eaters, so don't go overboard. Another detail to be mindful of is the SP meter. Erina can't attack once it's drained. Upgrades and certain badge combinations mitigate this. If it helps any, go into boss battles with an almost turn-based mindset. Land your combo, then step away to dodge the counterattack. I think it's possible to "steal turns" with some well-timed carrot bomb & hammer combinations, but the game makes it quite clear that every battle is a marathon. 

To keep fights from being too lopsided, Erina has a fairy assistant named ribbon. This magician is quite skilled at pelting faraway foes with ranged attacks. Holding down the requisite button will charge up increasingly powerful blasts. While the hammer is still the difference-maker in most fights, magic damage definitely adds up. Some players might also appreciate the tertiary effects that are tied to certain wands. The healing wand is great to start with, since its homing shots are easy to land and replenish a tiny bit of HP. Managing MP also isn't as demanding as SP, but that can depend on one's playstyle. Eventually, Ribbon gains access to the Boost power, and its effects differ depending on the equipped wand. This is just one of those "learn as you progress" mechanics. A handful of consumables and Erina's bunny amulet - which grants nearly 2 seconds of invulnerability - round out the duo's arsenal. 

In order to get a better a better sense of the level-scaling complaints, I had to give the Normal level of difficulty a try. Fights on Novice do last awhile, but there's usually a lot of back & forth, and Erina is pretty durable herself. That's not the case here. Mistakes add up quickly. One early boss that comes to mind is Ashuri. She's a witch with a charging broom attack that'll easily clip the unaware. That's around 25 damage on someone who has maybe 200 HP to work with. Ashuri will also fling a few projectiles around midflight, which serve the secondary purpose of placing Erina in a bad position to dodge the next charging attack. Most devious of all is the fact that when the witch comes in for a landing, she actually moves in a small crescent. Getting struck by this little flourish happens a lot. There's so much to every boss fight, and it's going to be grueling when their HP totals swell up, and the toughest of the bunch get additional phases. 

Furthermore, while the Novice mode's level-scaling cap is pretty low, I never got the sense that I was overpowered. It's weird. Rabi-Ribi threw so many upgrades at me. Some of the badges offer amazing benefits like poison damage or immunity to debuffs. All this, and not once did I ever think "This is too much. I need to bump the difficulty up." At the same time, though, the only occasions I died on bosses were due to the ultra-rare instant death attacks. I could've, probably should've stepped it up, but I didn't. The reason why is simple: I've already spent plenty of my gaming life retrying. Butting heads with the same boss over and over while midnight turns to 4:00 am is something I've dealt with too many times before. You could look elsewhere on this blog and find several examples of me fuming about some bullshit that took dozens of attempts and left me without an iota of satisfaction. Believe me, I appreciate everything this game is doing. It's dense and complex and has tons of replayability, but I can see why other players hit their limit and walked away. 

This all leads to why I try to avoid judging others when they don't succeed at a game, no matter how easy it's perceived by others. Difficulty matters only as much as we're able to give. When the fun ends and the frustration is overwhelming, what else should one do but move on? Let me be real with ya'll. I'm not aiming any higher. In fact, I'm going to take this Novice mode clear of a mildly horny hop & dodge to my grave. No regrets.  

PC Engine CD Look - Seirei Senshi Spriggan

Shmups are fascinating in that not only do they create unreasonable situations for the player to overcome; they encourage that same player to test their agency, see how much of themselves they're willing to risk just attain a hi-score. You see it all the time when enjoying your favorites. Just when you've found a bit of comfort underneath the enemy's torrential bullet storm, you give it up for a multiplier bonus, a loose medal nearing the screen's edge. In Seirei Senshi Spriggan's case: chasing extra points means adapting to incalculable variables. Don't let your choice of weapon become your identity. Flow like an unassailable river through the armada. Burn away the rigidity, dive into the chaos, and learn to live with the hell you've created.

Admittedly, my expectations going into this MUSHA successor were much too high. I went in expecting a mecha masterpiece that'd blow doors off hinges. That didn't happen. Slight feelings of disappointment crept in as I tried to navigate the confusing weapon system. Even after multiple runs, I still haven't caught a high comparable to some of Compile's other works. What they did here is very good but requires a specific state of mind to fully appreciate. There's a lot to learn, and anyone unwilling to adapt will have a bad time.

Let's jump right into that confusing weapon system, shall we? It's integral to the game's flow after all. Every few seconds, something carrying an orb will make its way onto the battlefield. The contents are going to be one of four colored orbs. Red, yellow, green, and blue. Don't be too concerned about assigning them elemental affinities, because whatever traits they have are subject to the current orb combo. Indeed, the Spriggan can hold three orbs at a time. When a fourth orb is obtained, it pushes the rest, kicking out the rightmost orb. There are a ton of weapon combinations to work with, and I mean really work with. Most of the possibilities don't provide a dependable forward cannon that chews through anything directly ahead. Take GYR (Green, Yellow, Red) for example. Most of its power is in the fireballs shooting from the sides. The wave shot that fires out the front is barely enough to handle popcorn enemies. This is a situational weapon, but it's so easy to pick up three different-color orbs that you'll end up with it for large stretches of the game. Another common one is YGB; a decent homing shot for hitting bosses from obtuse angles, but woefully useless elsewhere. You can see why I'd have friction with the weapon system, because there's a very good chance of getting stuck with something dysfunctional. 

In Seirei Senshi Spriggan, there's no point in favoring a specific weapon. I know some combinations can be troublesome to handle, but it's not as if I was ever forced to hold onto them. Pressing button II sacrifices the rightmost orb, creating a large bullet-clearing explosion. Replacement orbs are just a few seconds away, so don't expect to be underpowered for long. Also, while GYR & YGB aren't ideal for most scenarios, GY is a lovely little fallback with its combo of cannons and wave shots. Just don't go wild with bombings. The mech isn't surviving anything with its miserable peashooter. 

Another reason to keep cycling through weapons is because every orb is worth a thousand points. That's the equivalent of about a dozen enemies, not something a score-chaser can simply ignore. If you're the score-chaser, then get used to situations where the current weapon could be anything. Unlike MUSHA, with its awesome weaponry stacked on top of awesome weaponry, you'll have to be constantly mindful of positioning and momentum, especially since shields are limited to the flashing orbs. They're not rare but still spaced out enough to leave orb-less players feeling incredibly vulnerable. Annoyingly, the invulnerability period after a death is rather short. Compile loves its momentum-based shmups where you can potentially lose multiple lives before managing any sort of recovery. Bomb management and constant adaptation are the central tenets of survival. You're never going to have the optimal solution for a problem, so practice learning stage layouts and enemy spawns. Knowing where to go takes practice, and higher difficulties pile on the unreasonable situations. It's a deep game, no question.

I could give you tips on when to drop bombs, but even newcomers shouldn't have much trouble picking out the best times. Stage 5 turns the tables on orb-lovers out there with its generous supply of mech-crushing purple orbs. These spheroids tend to pop out of destructible tunnels. You'll know exactly what to do when you see four of them lined up next to each other. Other "just bomb this" sections aren't quite as obvious and will depend on the player's style and weapons. Some shot-types are good at erasing projectiles, so try to strategize around them. If you can clear sections without bombs, then you're defying expectations and achieving another level of skill. Isn't that just the most satisfying feeling?

Seirei Senshi Spriggan's level-design takes full advantage of the player's impractical weapon setup. I already mentioned stage 5's orbs, and every other stage has one or multiple obstacles that make it unique. Stage 2's first half is packed with killer fish that leap out of the water at seemingly random points. More organized and even deadlier are the mech-eating planets that adorn the second half's sides. Their bodies are durable and their bite is quick, so don't underestimate either. Fans of giant worm-like creatures will love the following stage. These gruesome things fly in set patterns, often using the narrow corridors as a means to apply pressure. Oh, and try not to get blindsided by falling rocks. The level of difficulty is a clear step above MUSHA. The myriad unique enemies and obstacles are less "Huh, pretty neat." and more "Well, I'm gonna die." Still, from my limited experience, it's fair. Reacting to a scenario gone sour and surviving happens on a semi-regular basis. We haven't reached the mania that is Robo Aleste. Don't hold your breath expecting me to look at that Sega CD shmup. 

I already mentioned it in my Space Megaforce review, but Compile loves its difficulty settings that erase the player's confidence and forces them to start from scratch. Hard is a noticeable step above Normal, and Super Hard is when the wolves descend. It's not just the bullet density that gets you; it's the speed at which they move. Whatever I knew from playing the first two settings flew out the window when I was blindsided by one of the first enemies in stage 1. It's starting to sound like I'm just padding reviews out by mentioning that the harder difficulties are indeed hard, but I'm just trying to stress how valuable it is that the developers take time to really push the limits of their game. Naxat Soft used to hold an event called the Summer Carnival. Much like Hudson Soft's Caravan Festival, this was the time when they'd introduce their latest STGs to mostly pro players. Thus, the developer knew the exact audience they were catering to. Giving them anything less than a considerable challenge would have been disappointing, I'm sure. 

Ultimately, Seirei Senshi Spriggan does more than enough to stand out from under its predecessor's shadow, it just requires a little extra time to warm up. Mastering a weapon system that's in a constant state of flux is bound to flummox newcomers who are still trying not to die horribly. Give it patience, and one just might unearth a deeply enjoyable adventure. Just don't expect to ever turn your brain off and revel in the destruction. Think ahead, and adapt, always. 

Be sure to check out the score-attack & time-attack modes!