Sega Genesis Look - Risky Woods

The nicest thing that I can say about Risky Woods is that it's a sick joke. 

You've likely been following this blog enough to tell when I have especially negative feelings about a particular game. I skip past the halfhearted introduction, the explanation of gameplay systems, all the other rigmarole. Whatever breathed life into this piece of trash couldn't have been of this planet. Actually, I take that back. Seeing the depths of mankind's cruelty over the course of several millennia is evidence enough. A person, or perhaps even an entire team created something that only they can derive pleasure from. The letters received from players expressing intense anger, sadness, and regret after purchasing their game likely tasted as sweet as the blood of an aristocrat would to a vampire. 

The goal of each stage is to either rescue all of the sealed wisemen or destroy a boss. This is accomplished via a series of mechanics more annoying than the last, all the while getting hounded by an endless deluge of fiends. Destroying the walking or flying jerks will drop coins, which might as well not serve any purpose because the hero has to crouch just to collect them. This is intentional, as there are a handful of items you won't to pick up. Thing is, why must this apply to something as common as the coin? They're everywhere, but nobody is going to stop what they're doing to collect them, especially with the clock ticking away. Adding to the annoyance is that all coins are dropped on death, which happens far more often than you'd think. 

Risky Wood's idea of health sounds like it should be cool, but the implementation is butt. Basically, your health doesn't have a max. If you obtain enough restoratives, you'll be awarded an extra life. The catch is that you might only have 1 or 2 blocks of health on that new life. If you take a couple of hits, you don't merely go back to your previous life but with a full bar of health. You just die and accept all the penalties that come with shuffling off the mortal coil. That means not only do you lose a bunch of useless coins, but also your weapon loses some of its power, and you're pushed back to a previous checkpoint. This "previous checkpoint" can mean restarting a boss if you died during the fight. However, dying doesn't restart the clock, which creates even more problems for your miserable ass.

Running out of time doesn't mean death. Instead, you get kicked back to the beginning of the stage, minus some of your health. Well, it can also mean death if your health is low, but whatever. Anyone who manages to get this far is already neck deep in the shit. The typical stage allows players 4 minutes to complete their task. Quite a lot can go wrong. You could waste time on the "Simon Says" puzzles, eat an apple that puts the hero to sleep, forget to grab a key and get sent flying backwards, or any number of little dumb situations. Basically, this game is explicitly designed to punish you for playing it. Everything you do feels like a mistake, destroying your confidence as well as any hope for a better tomorrow. 

It should come as no surprise that this thing isn't any fun to play. Our hero has a criminally large hurtbox. He can't go anywhere without getting bombarded. Attempting to evade anything feels fruitless. Also, the sad sack is cursed to live in a realm where platforms are ever so slightly narrower than they appear to be. Don't ever blame yourself when he walks over a ledge to the Grim Reaper's embrace. He made his bed. He can fall of it. Perhaps most disturbing is that Risky Woods has an insidious side to it. There will be those rare times where the dots actually connect, you get some decent power-ups, and you might even start to feel like you're playing a functional game. I'm telling you this, because I fell for it. Then when things went right back to being terrible, I thought it was all my fault. Swear on my everything, it's starting to feel like I'm describing a sociopath. 

Now here's some bullshit. One of the statues contains a wiseman. The other? A fire spell that wrecks our loser dumbass protagonist. It's impossible to tell them apart. The game eventually requires you to shatter fake statues to find keys anyway, so.... I don't even know what to say. It's stupid. I hate it. I don't want to talk about it for another second.

Fuck Risky Woods. It's nothing more than Ghouls 'n Ghosts meets a bag full of middle fingers and kicks to the groin. Apologies to anyone who could ever be a fan of such filth, 

Sega Genesis Look - Golden Axe 2

Looking back with a more critical eye, Golden Axe 2 is one of those sequels that probably shouldn't have happened. My reasoning is simple, put both this and its predecessor side-by-side; point out everything that they have in common. I'm not trying to be rude here, but let's break it down a little. The first Golden Axe took place in a fantastical world with giant turtles and hawks, but the enemies were mere humans who thrived on the suffering of the innocent. Drakes and Chicken Legs were tools used to serve their horrific purpose. Death=Adder being the descendant of titans, a hundred snakes taking the form of a human, or the restless embodiment of evil is really just a smokescreen. Ultimately, he's a man with no empathy who obtained endless power. 

I don't want to assign too much gravitas to a game that ends with its villains breaking out of an arcade and wreaking havoc on the real world, but it's clear that the developers got the appeal of Conan the Barbarian, something that so many fantasy movies failed to capture even a fraction of. As much as I'd prefer to avoid comparing Golden Axe 2 to Conan the Destroyer, it's hard to ignore all the ways it feels like a cheap cash-in designed to reach a younger audience. The Strongmen were replaced by Minotaurs. Instead of heavily armored guys with swords & shields, you face headless suits of armor. You'll square off with a couple dozen Lizardmen. The villain this time around is Emperor Guld. He might be a necromancer, but unlike Death=Adder, he doesn't have a fetish for murdering the families of random people in the hopes that they'll seek revenge upon him.

Sad sight. Some people just can't hold their soda.

Look directly above and tell me you don't see a man who's passed out after partying a little too hard the night before. Seriously though, I have an unserious theory that Sega wanted to sell Golden Axe again, but with less references to Conan the Barbarian. Let's call it "futureproofing", a means to ensure their fantasy hack & slashers don't eventually get them into legal trouble. Perhaps these fears were unfounded, or maybe Sega actually didn't give a damn. I mean, around the same time they were lifting samples from Prince songs for some obscure beatemup. This was not a game company that ever seemed worried about litigation (especially considering how poorly their employees were treated in the 80s & 90s).

I know I just spent like three paragraphs shitting on Golden Axe 2, but the honest truth is that I think it kicks ass. The developer took everything that worked in the original and made some tweaks. This refined take on the formula is just as easy to pick up yet feels more satisfying to play. A lot of the refinement is in the mechanical sense. Attacks lead into each other with more fluidity. One surprisingly common incident in the original game - or at least the Mega Drive port - is that pommel attacks will sometimes strike thin air instead of someone's skull, leaving the heroes open to a pummeling. This nuisance was fixed. Stunned enemies can not only be picked up and tossed, but their bodies will collide with other foes, adding depth where there was originally none. Actually, let me amend that by saying it's possible to throw an enemy who isn't stunned, provided they're close enough to whomever is. It's fun and gives players extra frame advantage, so I have no complaints. Strikes are faster in general, feeling less like everyone is swinging while underwater.

Enemies have also become noticeably more adept at fighting. Almost all of them have the advantage when it comes to range, so you can't stand idly and hope they'll walk into your outstretched blade. Maybe this was always the case before, but it feels more pronounced here. Extra care must be taken when trying to distance yourself from adversaries, because they'll immediately respond with a dash-attack when you're far enough away. Dash-attacks are still powerful but don't rely too heavily on them. Someone will punish the heroes while they're recovering; it's just a matter of when. Still, there's a ton of value in spacing and positioning. Case in point, when facing two Minotaurs, I find that it's best to keep them on opposite sides of the screen while keeping the main character closer to one or the other. This makes it easier to keep both fiends down with repeat dashes. If one tries this while standing in the center, eventually they'll get knocked down by the Minotaur's running shoulder bash. 

Also, while the bad guys tend to be quicker and more aggressive, they're also not as cheap. I recall an instance in the first game where a Strongman could knock someone to the ground, then kick them the instant they got up. I'm fairly sure there's a way out of this loop, but it isn't immediately obvious. Now, enemies don't immediately attack the instant the hero gets up after a knockdown. Players are given just enough time to land a couple of hits or retreat and reassess. More importantly, they don't feel cheated out of a life because they got caught in a trap. It's also worth mentioning that unlike Death=Adder, Emperor Guld isn't constantly flanked by allies and spamming inescapable spells. That miserable fight - and the platforming sections - are things that I never look forward to when replaying Golden Axe.

What really brings everything in this sequel together is how entertaining it is to use a warrior's entire repertoire. Every move has value to it, and being able to commit to the attack or employ hit & run tactics contributes a lot to every encounter. There is this swell of pride that comes from watching the enemy swing at air while my chosen champion is about to end them with a powerful down-stab. I never get tired of that. Destroying four foes in a single encounter without ever taking damage is also an incredible rush, even when it's exponentially less flashy than something from the modern era. 

I could chide Golden Axe 2 endlessly for being a repeat of the first game, but that'd mean ignoring all of the changes that make it such a well-rounded and enjoyable hack & slash. 

2026 Special - Blades of Vengeance

Manax has to be stopped! If her dastardly machinations are allowed to continue, the Kingdom will be devastated by despair and war forever. Mannax's evil must be obliterated, but the Master's magic is too weak. It's up to the Huntress, the Warrior, or the Sorcerer to slay Manax, restore the Master's power, and eliminate all traces of evil from the Kingdom. I'll admit to being that guy who complains about too much world-building, but Blades of Vengeance could've named its Kingdom at least. Mannax's name changes depending on whether you're reading the manual or playing the game. Don't even get me started on the complete lack of vengeance. Where are all the dead parents, siblings, spouses, neighbors, roommates, and total strangers? I'm not feeling particularly vengeful at the moment. On the plus side, the game kicks enough butt for me to ignore this fill-in-the-blank nonsense. 

Seeing as how it's still (depressingly) 2026, my attention for the bulk of this review will be focused on the Huntress. Let me just say... Damn!? Was "Screw Golden Axe! Our red bikini is tinier!" part of Electronic Arts' marketing campaign for this sidescrolling hack & slasher? Anyway, the Huntress - who I'm just going to call Maneater Mildred from now on - has a sword as well as the ability to block. Mastering them is a large part of staying alive. If a monster is holding a weapon, they're going to swing at whomever is closest. In most cases, all you have to do is crouch, wait for the opening between their swings, and punish. Blocking isn't entirely infallible. You can't block the rocks that might fall on your head or whatever manages to get behind you, but it's still really damn good. Mildred starts with one other useful ability: an overhead slash that can strike enemies low to the ground. Use it to squash spiders. 

The instant you glanced at Blades of Vengeance, you likely assumed that it plays similarly to Cadash, Pirates of Dark Water, Galahad, etcetera. I'm here to tell you that assumption is right on the money. The controls are as natural as breathing, turning one's palm, a heartbeat. Everyone walks with purpose, and their ability to easily make 99% of jumps makes up for the inclusion of fall-damage. I don't know why anyone designs games with fall-damage, but that's just me veering off-topic. Anyway, the platforming segments are intentionally mild so that two players aren't forcing each other into lava while trying to get around. It's level-design that fits the intended purpose. Not always exciting, but never frustrating.

Each of the eight realms is broken up into stages, all of which are packed an assortment of monsters, obstacles, and treasure. I emphasize the latter because if a large part of staying alive is blocking, the rest is in grabbing anything that falls from a corpse or out of a chest. Items cover every possible need and then some, making them immensely powerful. If you need a potion to restore life, then there are plenty to go around. Care for a Midas ring that turns all enemies into cash? Just keep those eyes peeled and you'll stumble onto a few. Transform elite adversaries into pathetic goons with a scroll of transformation. Erase a boss quickly with a strength buff or ignore all their attacks with an invincibility potion. Take the time to poke into every remotely suspicious wall and you'll likely stumble into a hidden room. Depending on your playstyle and the thoroughness of your explorations, this game can get pretty easy. The Maneater waltzed into Manax's lair with 20 invincibility potions... she only needed a couple of them. 

Each realm has a specific theme such as forest, tower, or catacombs. The catacombs are notable for having the most pitfalls, as well as a couple of puzzles to solve. They're supposed to be puzzles because they require a little more thought than "go this way" or "kill monsters", but it's only like 5% more thought. Besides knowing when and where to use items, this is not a game for fans of riddles, and that's good for me! The de-emphasis on problem-solving helps to make the catacombs stand out, while also giving players who tire of it a sense of relief when they move on to the next realm. However, some environments get repetitive. The Kingdom having two towers - both with the same boss - is straight-up padding. I shouldn't complain though, because it's an opportunity to collect more stuff. 

Farming evil to earn extra money.

Even if there isn't a lot of depth in the combat, this game still has some mechanical richness that helps it stand out. Earlier I mentioned a ring that turns enemies into cash. Clever usage can lead to some big earnings. Some areas have a lot of fodder enemies that respawn. Since they don't have melee weapons, blocking just makes them turn around and walk away. With some clever manipulating, you can herd several of them into the same screen, creating a nice bundle once you flash that Midas ring. Besides items and extra lives, the best purchase you can make is a new set of equipment for your chosen character. Ditching the bikini and sword for something resembling armor and a crossbow does a lot to make Milly the Manax-eater's job even easier. Well, losing the ability to easily squish spiders is a nuisance, but I also forgot about the stack of screen-clearing staves in her inventory, so that's on me. 

The initial playthrough is a pretty damn good time, and there's more than enough flexibility for players who want more of a challenge. Maniacs are welcome to try and save the Kingdom without ever sniffing a potion. However, I can't imagine myself doing that even if I had the skills to pull it off. Having an inventory that isn't subject to overly restrictive limitations is part of what makes Blades of Vengeance work. The fact that every item is valuable creates a real incentive to explore. I'm certain this feature is even more integral to 2 Player mode. A couple of friends having each other's backs and divvying up the rewards is a beautiful thing.

All in all, this is an easy recommendation for Sega Genesis and/or dark fantasy fans.  

Sega Genesis Look - Dick Tracy

For one brief beautiful moment, mobsters were all the rage. Brian De Palma's The Untouchables and Warren Beatty's Dick Tracy showed that there was some money to be made off of gangsters getting mowed down in a hail of bullets. Sadly, the era of trenchcoats and tommy guns didn't last. A ridiculous movie about a robot that turns into a puddle made a bazillion dollars and changed everything. On the gaming front, all we got was Dead Connection and- oh wait. Dead Connection rules! Talk about an absolute banger of an arcade shootemup. Taito really outdid themselves with the brilliant set-pieces and intense action. 

...Is it too late to change the subject of today's review?

I'm kidding! Kidding...

Dick Tracy on the Genesis is one of those movie-ins that we didn't see enough of back in the day. All too often, I'm forced to set the bar all the way to the ground, settling for any product that's functional. I can't even get annoyed when the developer half-asses a licensed game, because the alternative is zero-ass. Considering that Sega Technical Institute only had 5 months to get something out the door, the fact that they went above and beyond has to be commended. Yeah, I said fact, because nobody else was making a shooter that played like a cross between Crime City and NAM-1975. Taking control of the comic book legend, you'll have to battle crooks attacking from the left, right, and side. Tracy has a pistol to take down anyone who gets in his face or tries to sneak up behind him. More often than not though, there are going to be some goons taking potshots at him from across the street or the other side of a warehouse. Teach them a lesson with a tommy gun.

The one thing you have to keep in mind throughout is that these technicolor criminals are smarter than they look. Sure, you'll always have the shmucks who brought a fist to a gun fight, but most everyone else is packing heat, and they ain't about to play fair. What usually happens is that Tracy will be walking down the street and then (wham!) he's surrounded by goons. They're popping out of doors, stepping out of the shadows, and not a single one of them is waiting for their turn to fire. In other words, every encounter is a dilemma. What's the plan of attack? Who do you target first? How do you avoid their retaliation? You've got a second to come up with some answers before a little ketchup gets added to that mustard coat. 

You're no doubt familiar with the run & gun genre, but how many walk & guns have you played? Because that's what Dick Tracy is all about. The man knows he can't outrun a bullet and he's not even going to try. He's no sitting duck either, provided you duck or jump whatever's flying his way. Mainly, the inability to run is a safeguard to prevent players from rushing too far ahead and getting overwhelmed. You're obligated to take your time - or at least as much as the time limit will allow - to pick apart the frequent ambushes. This is a methodical shooter that requires reading the enemy and exploiting any openings. If there's a guy with a pistol, then you know he can fire three shots before having to reload. If he crouches while firing, then you have to time your jumps while waiting for opportunities to get closer. 

Stages tend to be light on the gimmicks; instead relying on fundamentals and building upon them to create difficulty for the player. As such, the earliest stages serve as an introduction. Familiarize yourself with the mechanics, get attuned to the pros & cons of both weapons, and understand your limitations. Naturally, the later stages feature new enemies and more obstacles. Dilemmas become increasingly prevalent as well. There will be occasions where Tracy has to go without his gun, but the bad guys get to keep theirs. Every situation has to be handled with great care, and you might have to retreat or choose a different approach. The ticking clock adds to the tension, and the absence of health pick-ups ensures that every mistake is costly. It's a lot like an arcade game, except not quite as polished.

If you're looking for something tough that won't think twice about putting the screws on its player, then Dick Tracy is definitely it. This operates on the idea that every step could literally be your last. You could be pursuing someone hiding behind a crate. The instant you leap onto that crate, two more goons will roll in and start shooting. By the way, I got a little "Pro Tip" for you. Get ready to jump bullets anytime you see a guy in tan suit somersault from the foreground. Don't get cute and try to out-shoot him. You'll eat lead every time. Reaching the end and taking down Big Boy is going to require some memorization. Unless you have a sixth sense, you'll inevitably have to fall back on trial & error to get by. I've sometimes mentioned that arcade games have "walls" that only dedicated players can get past. The walls here aren't quite brick, but they're definitely not paper. You'll eventually walk into situations that skirt the line between "This is a serious challenge!" and "Now that's just cheap."

One nuisance that comes to mind is the boss-fight with Flattop. I didn't mention it before, but the boss-fights in this game are pretty clever. They remind me a bit of Time Crisis in that Dick pursues the villain through the stage, dealing damage to them while eliminating any allies that pop in. These especially bad guys usually have some alternative weaponry like molotovs or explosives. Flattop prefers to keep it simple with his tommy gun. At the end of his stage, the lights go out and you can only see him when he's shooting. Maybe there's a tell that I haven't noticed, but this just felt like a fight that requires a little luck to survive. He pales in comparison to Big Boy, an already tough fight that's made ridiculous by the strict time limit. For reasons that can only be described with expletives, the last couple of bosses get a big defense buff for their final phase. I hate it.

While I applaud STI* for developing a competent game with creative ideas in a comically short amount of time, I also think that it could've used at least another month of tweaks. Yeah, I know that's a huge ask given what they had to work with, but the difficulty really does go too far in a few places. Having a final stage that spawns a small army every time Tracy takes a step might work on the Hard or even Normal difficulty setting, but everything I described up to now was on Easy. The credits didn't mention any testers, which leads me to assume the programmers just pulled double duty. Creating a fair challenge often requires a person who doesn't already know the game inside and out. Still, what the developers accomplished here is quite interesting. Time just wasn't on their side. Give it a try sometime. Experience the grueling Stage 6-B for yourself.

*Talk about an unfortunate acronym.

Sega Genesis Look - Road Rash 3

Road Rash is back and it's taking the world by storm! Grip that crotch rocket like your life depends on it as you race through seven deathtraps across the globe. Wield all manner of weapons to maim and humiliate opposing racers. Watch your back though, because their thirst for blood is at an all-time high. The cops are even less interested in seeing psychos tear ass through their streets at 289 km/h. They've got trucks, roadblocks, helicopters, and will bring the full weight of them down on unsuspecting rashers. With stakes higher than ever and the entire world against you, do you have what it takes to climb the broken bodies of your rivals and claim the championship?

Released during the Sega Mega Drive's twilight years, Road Rash 3 takes racing combat to a new level. I'd even go so far as to refer to it as a beatemup on bikes. Though winning the game still requires placing in the top three of every race, you're not getting anywhere near there unless you can deal with all 14 rivals. It isn't quite so obvious early on, as races on the first couple difficulty levels play out in a manner similar to the earlier games in the series. Upon reaching level 3 however, the harsh realization sets in that the opposition wants to turn you into a mangled mess of flesh & machinery. It's tough out there, tougher than anything you've dealt with before.

Previously, weapons were a cute little extra. Now? Everyone's carrying, and they won't think twice about double-teaming some poor outsider. If it wasn't obvious, that poor outsider is you, never mind that you've been running with most of these guys and gals for years. Anyway, there are more weapons than ever. Clubs, crowbars, and nunchaku represent the three tiers of "bash this against someone's head until they fall over". Some slickster named Lucky Luc has a can of oil. You'll slide into oblivion if you don't watch your driving (or swipe his can). Besides inflicting pain, cattle prods and mace have the added effect of stunning rashers for a few seconds, enough time to get in a horrifying wreck. While bouts hardly evolve beyond battering everyone who gets close, the different weapons inject a lot of variety into them. You're incentivized to watch every angle, prioritize the most dangerous rivals, and keep your eyes on the road!

It can't be stated enough that the highways are more cluttered than ever. I'm almost wondering if it's safe for the people who actually obey speed limits to drive on some of them. Chickens - and animals much larger than chickens - are crossing the road at semi-regular intervals. Pedestrians are mere speed bumps in the Road Rash universe, but losing control for an instant could have disastrous consequences. The tracks themselves are less windy, but the trade-off is a massive increase in objects to crash into. Also, since rivals are on you like glue, losing your place while trying to recover from a collision is guaranteed. On the plus side, rubberbanding seems to work both ways. Opposition you've passed previously in the race become easier to catch up to. Granted, you could drive perfectly and still lose because of a freak accident at the last moment, but... actually no that just plain sucks. Arcade racers tend to be geared toward perfectionists who never scrape a wall let alone crash, but variables are kept to a minimum, so players don't feel cheated. Road Rash 3 has a ton of variables, so many that the game can barely handle them all, and they'll make the player's racing career a lot harder than it has to be.

Quick aside: I played this game using the Improvement Hack. Among numerous other additions and fixes, this hack increases the framerate a little. It's an appreciated increase, especially since frames drop as low as the single digits when several rivals are onscreen at once. I shouldn't have to tell you this but trying to navigate a nightmare road while brawling five bikers at 8-10 FPS gets extremely messy. Reacting to myriad circumstances with only a thimble full of frames isn't out of the question... Or so I'd like to believe. Opinion of the matter is that when I get blindsided by a car that practically didn't exist two seconds ago, I have to call bullshit. Bad things happen, and sometimes they might as well be impossible to react to. 

Having way too many objects to smack into and never enough time to avoid them is exasperated by the police presence. If a cop is nearby, then your next collision will cost you the race and some cash. There might be some rare cases of leniency, but don't get too hopeful. Police trucks* tend to be the most destructive. They'll actively home in on players, running them down if they don't get out of the way. This can knock rivals out, which is always fun to see. Still, it's a ton of risk for very little reward. Cops also pilot copters, and they'll try to squish you Super Mario style if you're underneath them. Helicopters can be used as launchpads if you're already in midair, which is something else that's always fun to see. However, since rivals tend to not care too much about how fast you're going, the reward is nonexistent.

This leads me to what might be my biggest problem with Road Rash 3. The sense of progression feels muted and unsatisfying. Higher levels lead to longer races. The dangers have increased, but so has the cash payouts for a successful finish. Also, high level players are allowed access to better bikes. What should be a neat feature falls flat for me, because the AI reacts to my $40,000 bike - that I spent another $15,000 upgrading - as if it was still my $4,000 bike. All a burst of nitrous buys me is a brief respite from a beating, or faster recovery from a wreck. I'm sure life would only be that much harder if I didn't buy the superbike, but I didn't expect the fastest thing on two wheels to lose its luster a minute into its first outing. Oh, and it's really hard to get any sense of speed out of a framerate that needs a miracle to escape the teens.

I get the feeling that I'm going to have to try one of the Road Rash games that released on the Playstation or Saturn, since most of these entry's faults are due to technical limitations. I don't mean this as a knock against the Mega Drive. It's 1988 hardware that was still capable of astonishing showstoppers like Alien Soldier and The Adventures of Batman & Robin. Scaling tech just wasn't its forte, and the most impressive works (Panorama Cotton!) required black magic. This game also blew my mind on multiple occasions. Getting into midair jousts with multiple rivals at a time is awesome. There's a lot of fun to be had when things click into place. It's just a little too ambitious for the hardware.

*I think they're trucks. The visuals are a little rough.

Sega Genesis Look - Forgotten Worlds

I shouldn't be too harsh on the Sega Genesis port on Forgotten Worlds. Two players having unlimited continues as long as they don't die at the same time is a really cool feature. Also, it was one of the first Capcom titles to be programmed by Sega in an initiative to get third-party games on the console. Considering the state of the Mega Drive's library in the console's early days, a quarter-decent port of an arcade classic was still world's better than Osomatsu-kun Hachamecha Gekijou. However, if I'm using nonsense like "quarter-decent" to describe this, then you can safely skip the rest of the review, because there's no way it'll end on an especially positive note.

What sets this shmup apart from the competition is not something I can easily summarize. Instead of a rickety ship that's one bullet away from annihilation, you're piloting a beefy dude who eats bullets like twinkies... because they're bad for him if he eats too many(?). Using a rotary joystick - or analog controller - you can spin him around to take down enemy forces that attack from every direction. Within each of the game's nine stages is a shop that heroes can spend their hard-earned zenny on new weapons, increased firepower, or medkits & armor. Basically, Forgotten Worlds pulled elements from Capcom's other titles, then rearranged them to create something quite special. It's easy to get into, has a lot of replayability, and features striking art-direction. Great game.

A three-button Genesis pad is naturally ill-suited for a twin-stick shmup, but Sega still did a fine job of adapting it. Buttons A & C rotate the heroes while holding down the B button fires. In the option menu, you can adjust rotation speed as well as whether or not to enable autofire. This saves you to the trouble of pressing B, with the catch being that it also automates the satellite's movement. Veteran players might prefer having full control over the bullet-catching device, but it's mostly just personal preference. The nameless heroes move well, and the default rotation speed is enough to handle practically everything that's thrown their way. 

What follows is a version of the game that's noticeably scaled back. On average, you're going to be dealing with 1/3rd to 1/4th of the enemy forces that populated the arcade game. A few types of enemies were omitted entirely, no doubt a casualty of trying to fit a monstrous game on a tiny cart. Also, knowing Sega at the time, the poor developers only had a couple months to get this port out the door. The cuts aren't going to bother anyone who isn't too familiar with the original. In fact, they might even appreciate the relative lenient usage of dangerous projectiles. I'm pretty sure that the hero's hurtbox has been shrunk as well. This is one change that I wish was retroactively added to the arcade game. Getting shot in the foot happens a little often there. 

In an effort to shift the difficulty balance, zenny isn't nearly as common. It still drops from some defeated enemies or is hidden in suspicious places, but not as often as you'd expect. It's a sound idea, as less zenny means being more careful with purchases. A good weapon is pretty essential to survival. If buying one means skipping the life-saving resurrection potion, then that's just how it is. However, this port's many cuts include two entire stages. Since there are less zenny-earning opportunities in the stages themselves, the bonuses for defeating bosses are necessary to make up the difference. That's a little hard to do with two less bosses. I will say though that the rebound shot, which can be bought midway through the game, is sufficient to finishing the game. It seems the final boss can be wiped out pretty quickly if you just point-blank him for 20 seconds. Dodging his lasers isn't happening anyway, so might as well try for a quick kill. 

Since currency is much harder to come by, several weapons were downgraded from "not optimal" to "outright useless". I won't say it'll be comfortable, but you'll have better luck surviving if you stick to a weapon path that consists of homing missile -> bombs -> laser -> rebound shot. If you somehow luck into enough cash for the homing laser, then go for it, but the game's already close to over by then. Whatever the case, don't make the mistake of purchasing other weapons. The "super laser", which costs 80,000 zenny, might as well be a prank. It's totally useless against the 6th boss. 

The biggest waste of 80,000 zenny since 'obscure Breath of Fire or Megaman Legends reference'.

Also, while the port is generally easier than the arcade game, it still has a nasty habit of dishing out tons of seemingly unavoidable damage. During certain routes in the "Egyptian" stages, high-speed projectiles will hammer the heroes, shredding their health less than a minute after they just recovered at the shop. While they are undoubtedly worse to deal with in the arcade version, here they're a difficulty spike that just comes off as mean-spirited. 

Forgotten Worlds on the Sega Genesis is playable but has aged the worst of the Capcom ports. I can't even fathom how hellacious it must've been such a massive game into a tiny cartridge. For what it's worth, I believe the programmers did everything they could. However, it's hard to look past the two missing stages and the effect they have on the zenny economy. This port could've waited another year, or at least until 8-megabit carts were more affordable to produce. Hindsight isn't benefitting a console that's suffering a dearth of third-party games though. Besides, it's like I said a minute ago, this is still world's better than Osomatsu-kun Hachamecha Gekijou.

Oh, but don't get any funny ideas about that being my next review. I am never touching that piece of fucking shit ever again.

Sega Genesis Look - QuackShot Starring Donald Duck

If you're hankering for a little something on your Sega Genesis, but can't decide what to play, then why not go with one of the safest games imaginable? QuackShot is always a good time. Hit the start button, give it an hour to an hour and a half, make your day a little more bearable. This is one of those rare moments when I'm comfortable admitting that I've played a particular game for 35 years. It's a timeless adventure that deserves to be revisited and enjoyed until the universe folds like a piece of paper and collapses.

It's been a rough week for the guy writing this piece. You know how I get when life brings me down. I pick a random game to bully. Picking on one of the few things on this planet that doesn't deserve it isn't the right way to live, but that's just how my poisoned brain works. Maybe if I turn QuackShot over enough times, I'll unearth some fatal flaw buried within that'll score me points with a gaming community that hasn't ever given a shit about my work. Like I said, poisoned brain. Imagine my disappointment when the only flaw I could find was a potential game-halting bug if I timed a press of the start button to match the exact moment an NPC initiates dialogue with Donald. It's a bug that might have even gotten caught in a later revision. You don't have to tell me that if I'm reaching too hard to take the shine off of a gem.

Okay, so enough nonsense. What makes this game work can be summed up in a single generic word: playability. Controlling Donald the treasure-hunter is both seamless and deep. It's like... well... whatever swimming in the Scrooge McDuck money bin feels like; endlessly rewarding. Walking, running, jumping and/or shooting. All the dots connect with a subtle brilliance. I don't ever have to think about what I'm doing, and that counts for a ton in a platformer. Somehow the duck leaps with the grace of a swan. Donald has a knack for death-defying leaps like he was putting it all on the line every moment of his life. He is so good at this, and it makes playing his game a treat every single time. 

Oh, and goddamn! That fucking slide is needles straight-in-the-vein fantastic. I don't spend enough time championing great slides in video games, because this is definitely one of them. Besides being smooth as heck, it's got enough functionality to apply to every situation. You can turn around mid-slide, jump out of it if you're about to slide off of a ledge, or just slide whenever you want a little magic in your life. Also important is that this technique is performed by holding down and pressing the jump button. Not down-forward or down-back, just down. This erases any possibility of an accidental slide ruining Donald's life and your day. 

I also have to mention the value of the A button, because Donald's ability to dash isn't something that should be casually ignored. Though, in fairness, I'd never blame someone if they said they did. The button-placement on a typical Sega Genesis controller does make dashing a little awkward. If you're using an emulator to play, then consider mapping the A button to R1 or L1. Any dash usage is going to give this adventure a more robust flavor. Besides the speed boost it provides while waddling around, dashing affects how far Donald's jump travels. Even if all you do is hold the dash button while jumping, that's still adding momentum. It's not required for most jumps, but the extra distance could save a potentially bad one. Dashing is flexible, works just about everywhere, and enhances a game that already has strong movement.

Alongside a series of platforming challenges that increase in difficulty with progress, QuackShot is great at provided a wide range of varied environments to hop & shoot through. There are ancient tombs filled with all manner of traps, a haunted castle with an obligatory underwater section, the door maze from Revenge of Shinobi, and quite a bit more. Everything here works wonderfully. Time isn't wasted on areas that run for too long or don't provide any clever ideas. You get a full globe-trotting adventure that's never boring. 

Way back when I played this game for the first time, I recall being a little perplexed that Donald's default weapon was made for stunning and not killing. Like everything else though, it becomes second-nature. A plunger to the face - or whatever the enemy's weak point is - will put them out of commission for long enough. If anything, it provides another opportunity to use the wonderful slide. A little detail, but I also really like how some enemies are tall enough that Donald can hit them the instant he jumps. He doesn't have to sacrifice momentum to land a shot. The baddies do their part by being diverse, but not excessively so. A few might require multiple plungers or others have some unique gimmick. No matter the case, it never hurts the pacing. 

Naturally, I don't have any complaints about the bosses. Even after all this time and however many playthroughs, some of them still put up a decent fight. The final boss in particular can be a mean one. During a playthrough I recorded some years back, I realized just how valuable it is that Donald is able to land multiple plungers each time The Duck Knight throws his sword. For what is essentially a game designed with kids in mind, a lot of attention was paid towards spacing, timing, execution, and other concepts that one isn't liable to immediately understand. In case I haven't already said it enough, QuackShot is a deep game. It packs a ton of tech into a brisk adventure, but in a manner so subtle that it took me practically a lifetime to ever consider it. 

If you're tired of the endless praise, then I have good news for you. The review is finished. Until next time!