Steam Look - Metro Quester

Today's look is at another "comfy" game. For real, wandering the post-apocalyptic subways of Tokyo while fending off mutant beasts is like a warm blanket and cold pillow. Metro Quester takes the dungeon-crawler formula and then strips away the extraneities. Its uniquely minimalist visuals are paired with a streamlined UI. Anyone out there who likes to cast healing spells or sip revival potions after a battle might be disappointed, because those features are among the many that are automated. Your party also decides which monsters to target, so all you have to do is outfit them and issue commands. It's a system that doesn't require undivided attention but is still just as compelling than any other great RPG. Also, it's perfect for someone who has a lot of music or podcasts they'd like to listen to, but is still obligated to get some game-time in. Hm... I think I might've written myself into a corner with this single-paragraph review. Where could I possibly go from here?

Part of what makes Metro Quester work is its suddenness. With barely a starburst wrapper's worth of story to hold onto, players are thrust into a world that's surrounded by "death". I threw in the quotes because there's not a hint of permadeath to be found. Dead parties are transported back to the base and given another chance. I'm aware there's a somewhat more significant punishment if they fail to bring in enough food after 10 days of adventuring, but it would require a tremendous effort on the player's part to make that happen. But yeah, the immediate goal is to scrounge up some food and try not to die too often. It might not sound like a big deal, but keep in mind that you didn't get the opportunity to decide on a party, let alone get them any decent gear. The general idea behind Quester is that you make do with what you're given. Besides life and death, there aren't any guarantees, so all you can do is adapt to whatever you find.

With that in mind, let me tell you a little about my party. Over on the far left is Gotz. He's mobile police, a job that specializes in carrying shields and managing hate. In this game, hate is arguably more important than hit points. Battles are going to fall apart if the weakest party members keep getting targeted. You'll need someone like Gotz drawing the monsters' attention and protecting the party from noxious gases or other ill effects. Next up is Haruka the detonator. I'd call her a pure DPS machine, but DPS doesn't make sense in a turn-based battle, does it? Anyway, load her up with swords or heavy weapons. Dob-Rock is a Buddhist, though I'm sure that means he treats it as much more than a mere occupation. His skills are in healing, but he'll crack some skulls if you give him a large enough hammer. Scientists like Tsuya use drones to rain bombs, napalm, or poison on their enemies. Careful though, because they're hate-magnets and predictably squishy. Finally, there's officer Ekko. Give her a couple katanas and watch the decapitated heads pile up. I'd say that almost everyone who starts a new game will be given a similar crowd of misfits to lead. Bases located throughout the abandoned metros could be housing other recruits, so the starting party is never set in stone. 

Some other jobs you might want to look for include stealers. Besides being good at hurling a shuriken the size of a manhole at monsters, these young opportunists have a better chance at breaking into safes than anyone else. Don't sleep on their talent for hiding. They'll duck behind the nearest mobile police, giving them the bonus hate required to keep most creatures from targeting the adventurers who aren't dual-wielding shields. Rangers are top-tier killers if you can find the right equipment for them. I knew a lady who had an anti-tank rifle for each hand. By the way, all but the largest bosses are vulnerable to instant-death. What can't be killed in one shot can still be severely weakened by paralysis, debuffs, and much more. If you have a specific build in mind, and the equipment to facilitate it, then you can expect some fantastic results. 

Like I said though, this isn't the dungeon-crawler for micro-managers. Once you've found a strategy that eliminates the enemy with ease and without casualties, then feel free to stick with it until it stops working. Eventually, there'll be a monster party that requires a shift in tactics, just not so often that it'll interrupt that podcast or the 12,000-hour lo-fi hip hop playlist. Although, I'll go ahead and *spoiler warning* mention that the final boss will most likely require a significant amount of extra work. That can mean changing characters or farming the single gold safe that has a very small chance of containing legendary five-star equipment.

New Game+ is implemented in a very clever way. Players are allowed to carry over 60 of their most treasured items. The catch is that they'll be hidden in random patches of mud, sometimes awarded via progress, and generally spaced out so that the party isn't crushing everything in an instant. Additionally, enemies receive boosts to their attributes, so foolproof strategies of the past will likely require some tweaks. Defeating the final boss again isn't the end either, as players are offered to challenge NG +2, 3, and... I want to say it goes all the way to +6, but I never got that deep. Functionally, it's still the same map with the same monstrous inhabitants, which will tire out all but the most dedicated. 

All future space is reserved for whenever I get around to finishing another playthrough of Metro Quester | Osaka.

2026 Special - Realms of Chaos

Endrick and Elandra, siblings who have mastered the arts of sword and sorcery, embark on a quest to restore order to the realms. This is Realms of Chaos, an action-platformer that was originally released during the heydays of shareware. I have fond memories of that time, even though I could never afford to play past the first episode of any game. Decades later, I've somehow obtained almost the entirety of Apogee's classic library. I say somehow because the games were most definitely purchased, but I can't remember when or how. Managing a Steam library with nearly 1,800 titles is a bit troublesome. 

Anyway, I had to stretch the rules quite a lot to fit this throwback into the 2026 Special. The deuteragonists are sword-swinging Endrick and fireball-flinging Elandra. Swapping between hero and heroine is a mere button press away. This is important, because neither character can save the realms on their own. Elandra's magic is essential to defeating the final boss, but every casting costs gems. The hunk of metal that Endrick wields isn't powered by floating collectibles and is better for spongier foes. However, there's stiffness and delay in every slash. You're better off roasting agile monsters. Altogether, I'd say that character usage is a 55/45 split. Endrick gets a slight edge because of his larger health meter. Just keep in mind that the game is over when either sibling dies.

The chaotic realms that you'll be exploring are filled with all-things typical of the genre. Leap from moving platforms to cross beds of spikes. Climb ropes and search suspicious walls for secrets. Spend gems on power-ups that vary wildly in effectiveness. Yeah, this is one design-decision I have questions about. Part of it is because I don't value some power-ups as much as the development team. The magic shield sounds nice, but it sits too close to the player-character to be reliable protection. Buy it if you want an occasional bat-swatter. Temporary invincibility could be cool if the screen wasn't enveloped in an eyeball-searing effect. Really, all you need are the weapon power-ups, because they gift damage increases that last for the remainder of the episode. Find them or suffer to bosses (and some enemies) that have too much HP.

Like just about every other PC game of the era, players are allowed to save whenever they please. For Realms of Chaos' first episode, I treated this feature as a lovely convenience. That changes significantly in the second episode. I'm not sure what happened, but level-design goes from decent to dreadful towards the back half. The second-to-last stage is several mind-numbing hallways populated by monsters of exceptional tankiness. About 2/3rds of it consists of dead-ends and useless power-ups. Bizarrely, one of the exits is false and will send you back to the beginning of the stage. Past that is a vertical corridor with moving walls designed to smoosh adventurers. The one instance that really highlights how frequently players are expected to save is presented as a choice. If the player goes left, then they fall in a death trap. There isn't any indication that left is the wrong way. 

I suppose I shouldn't complain so much, because cheap deaths in short stages where players make their own checkpoints is far from the worst thing I've dealt with today. However, I absolutely have to mention the Stone Golem. Episode 2's end-boss drops rocks that fall quickly and randomly. His boiling saliva is overly tricky to jump over. I actually had to create mid-fight saves when I lucked into a pattern that didn't chew through my duo's already meager health-bar. For a game likely made by fans of NES platformers, they really dropped the ball here. This pile of stones is aggressively overtuned for the game it appeared in.

After the mess I was just subjected to, I went into Episode 3 fearing the worst. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that it was mostly pleasant. Sure, there were annoying jumps. One of the final challenges is a snake-like moving platform (think Super Mario World or Battletoads) that could've gone a lot worse than it actually did. I cruised through the last episode and its bosses with ease. Well, relative ease. Instant-death spikes and knockback-inducing enemies are still as potent as ever. I'm still very perplexed as to why Episode 2 turned out the way it did. Normally, I'd write it off as just me adjusting to the game over an extended period of time, but the truly obnoxious aspects of episode 2 aren't seen anywhere else.

Realms of Chaos is a fine little adventure, or at least it would be if half an episode wasn't perplexingly awful. Still, if it means anything, having the worst part of the game be towards the middle instead of the very end is pretty chaotic.

"Omigosh!"

Steam Look - Disillusion

Disillusion is a first-person dungeon crawler. Taking the role of Golem, you must climb three towers and confront whatever awaits at the top. Expect plenty of surprises as you navigate the twisting passages. Interact with numerous NPCs; be mindful of your words, as they can affect the story's conclusion. The battle system is standard RPG Maker fare, with the difference between surviving and dying being as simple as knowing when to fight and when to heal. I'd nitpick Golem's low accuracy if it wasn't balanced out by his enemies being mostly ineffective at fighting. The game would've fallen apart if anyone used their turns to cast damaging spells instead of pointless buffs. That said, there is a semblance of resource management. Experience and money are finite, but the possibility that you'll put yourself in an unwinnable situation is devastatingly low. If you have a few dollars and six hours to spare, then consider giving this unique experience a shot.

Alright, now that we've gotten the perfunctory review out of the way, I'm going to run with the assumption that you're still here and wondering if I have anything of substance to say. Calling Disillusion a unique experience is a massive understatement, but I can only say so much without diving headfirst into spoiler territory. In other words, this is your first and final warning. Not only am I liable to give away some of the events that transpire, but my interpretation of the story and the world could potentially have a lingering effect that'll dampen your eventual playthrough. In case the flurry of one sentence reviews on the Steam page didn't give it away, you're expected to know as little as possible. Play this for yourself. Whatever interpretations you'll have are correct. That's just how good art works. 

Still here? Alright then...

I talk about dreams, far more than I reasonably should. The nether regions of the subconscious tend to be about as interesting as drywall. Dreams always end. There isn't a point to dwelling on what happens when there aren't any real-world consequences. Nevertheless, it's nice to dream. As the barriers to travel grow higher and our purchasing power continually dwindles, escapism via a night's worth of sleep is all we'll have left. What happens when that's taken away from us? Wait. I'm asking the wrong question. Ignore what I said seconds ago and let me talk about my dreams. In most of them, I see my grandfather alive and well, as if he hadn't already left this world back in 2008. What if, when my time comes, I don't see him again? The afterlife could just be a prison that takes away our dreams, and with them, the single connection to everyone we ever loved. Instead, for committing the sin of existence, our forever sleep was turned into a sleepless eternity. 

Disillusion is a story of fear and acceptance in the afterlife. We can't undo the pain we inflicted during our mortal years, but maybe we can understand. Of course, that depends on if we're able to figure out who we are and what we've done. At the heart of this D-RPG is Samsara, a purgatory that an unimaginable number of lost souls are trapped in. Some are thrown back into the cycle of life and death, though without anything resembling karma. If your first life was one of poverty and anguish, then that will be your next life, and every life thereafter. Those who aren't returned to the world of the living become increasingly isolated and prone to madness. If you'd like to avoid going insane over the course of several millennia, then you can climb the towers. You might fail, lose your sense of self, and become just another obstacle in somebody else's climb, but whatever's at the top must be worth the cost.

I should probably explain who or what you are. Your name is Golem, but everything else that defines you as a person is scattered into hundreds of fragments. Talk to everyone, repeatedly if it helps, because they all hold a piece of what could be conceived as your identity. I'm not trying to be vague, but the truth is, I finished the game and I still don't know Golem. However, I get the sense that they committed multiple heinous acts. The word Golem implies the possibility that he's not a being of flesh, rather an incomplete homunculus that absorbs the thoughts and memories of whomever it converses with. About the only concrete detail I recall about this creature is that it once told someone they struck their son while driving. Sickening, but that really doesn't explain Golem's identity. It probably just relayed a memory received from someone else. This might just be one of those blanks that you have to fill in yourself. Don't worry though, because whatever you believe will be the right answer.

You won't go on this journey alone. Melpomene is a Muse, a sort-of guide through Samsara. She is one of nine sisters who control the fates of the world. Her job is to ensure that there's always enough tragedy in one's life, but I don't think Disillusion fans mind that at all. Even if you can't ever figure out Golem, you'll eventually understand why "Mel" is accompanying them. Plus, I mean, it's nice that there's a guiding presence. One of the likely reasons why so many fail to reach the top of the tower is because they lost their purpose. That's likely the intent, because holding onto an identity means fighting the cycle of death and rebirth. Imagine if someone succeeded where hundreds of billions have failed. The purgatorial establishment would be overthrown, putting the afterlife at risk of being wiped out. If Mel is willing to help someone who could rend chaos on an incalculable scale, then she's a friend worth hanging onto. 

The towers of Samsara are like trying to run from a dream. Maybe we've seen it before and know how it ends, or maybe we're just tired of never having good dreams. Normally, these would be better described as nightmares, but I see more than that. I see the disorganization, the lack of texture, the total incoherency, and yet it gives me comfort. If a dream always ends, and a nightmare can be escaped, then each floor of the tower represents the in-between. It could be neither, it could be both, but whatever it is, it's home. Yeah, it's not much to look at, but the garish walls and peculiar soundtrack bring a sense of comfort. This game was created with an older version of RPG Maker, so playing in full screen will force your monitor into a funky resolution. I chose to play in a small window. A tiny viewing space surrounded by the rest of my world. Bit sad, really. Maybe they were right that one day I'd be living in a computer.

A complete playthrough of Disillusion will most likely require a guide, especially if you have an interest in seeing the true ending and completing all of the side-quests. I wasn't thorough enough and missed out on what might've been some crucial pieces to the puzzle. Samsara is home to many crows. The means to learning their language is hidden somewhere, but I might've given away too much by saying that. For at least my entire playthrough, I believed that the meaning behind every crow saying "CAWCAWCAW!" was just something that I had to figure out on my own. Knowing that an actual translation for their words exists, I... honestly don't care to know what was said. Their tendency to be in the right place at the right time says just as much as words.

My time with this remarkable game has led to multiple conclusions, but I'm not sure if I can share any of them. I've been thinking about the afterlife more than not at all lately and have come across the worry that I may never see my loved ones again. Whatever happens is just going to happen. If that means I and anyone I've ever cared about will disappear from existence, then... I don't know. I guess, when I come to face-to-face with the all-encompassing void, all I'll be able to do is shrug. 

It could always be worse.

Xbox Series Look - Final Fantasy 12: The Zodiac Age

What should've been a half-decent eight hours of sleep was cut short by the realization that I'm going to have to talk about Final Fantasy XII again. Yeah, it's going to be another wasted morning at my desk, eyes feeling like two fried eggs. I'm paying for the sin of revisiting a game I had already written about ages ago. This probably isn't the right attitude to have about game criticism, since as we all know, the possibility that any reviewer would take a second look is astonishingly low, like a dodo howling at the blue moon low. Re-reviews are unequivocably a good thing, but they're not often feasible. Professional critics have insane schedules and are often juggling multiple 50-hour projects at a time. Life's too short and painful to spend time on masturbatory think-pieces that nobody is going to read. 

Seriously though, this is one of those instances when my envy for movie critics reaches critical mass. In the time it takes me to play through one "modest-length" game, they can watch a movie ten times, come away with several different conclusions, and deliver some truly brilliant analysis. I have to settle for a dozen paragraphs of barely coherent schlock; explaining game mechanics, feel, and maybe even the story if I hate myself that much. Hate... Oh, that reminds me. A long, long time ago, I played Final Fantasy 12 for 180 hours and hated it. Now, I've just spent an additional 50 hours and wrapped up a third playthrough. Does this mean I actually found love for this game? Well, I definitely like the Zodiac Age version; which combines the International Zodiac Job System with a remastered audiovisual presentation, and an absolute deluge of QOL features (such as fixing Vaan's weird Skeletor abs). 

Before proceeding, I have to point out that this piece is not intended to be a retread. If for whatever ungodly reason you need me to tell you how the game works, then my original FF12 review is right here. Mainly, I'm looking at why Zodiac Age is far and away the definitive edition, as well as providing my thoughts on what had better be the last playthrough I'll ever do of this monster of an RPG. Any discussion of mechanics is made with the belief that you're already well-familiar with the gambit system, pausing the game at any time to switch armaments around to prevent status ailments or reduce spell damage, and using summons or awakenings. Actually, scratch that last part. I used one summon to get into Giruvegan and zero awakenings. Maybe they could've helped with a boss, but considering how many of them have immunities or instant esper-killing powers, I never even thought to bother.

My feelings on the combat are still in a fog. Much like previous games in the series, this operates on the notion that every boss, every mark has a specific set of actions and attributes to work around. It's not nearly as open-ended as FF5, or at least, that's not the way I saw it. While looking up job-class guides, I saw someone mention that Oil & Firaga is a potent combination, especially since there's no damage cap. Of course, the instant I try to put the suggestion to work, I discover that just about everything is immune to Oil. That was enough to dissuade from using black magic for almost the entirety of the playthrough. The Monk/Black Mage Penelo was casting bravery and bonking monsters with a stick. Shameful really, because if I had just thought to give her a Cloud Staff, she'd have blown everything away in an instant. Black Magic is extremely strong, but the game is so quick to punish me for trying it that I never considered a workaround. 

Part of the issue is that FF12's emphasis on freedom can be punishing for players who aren't managing their inventory. The Opal Ring adds a piercing effect to spells so that they can't be reflected. I could slip it on Penelo while she's flinging spells around, then switch it for the Ribbon when the boss is preparing to launch a barrage of status ailments. However, the instant I enter the accessory menu, I know I'm going to have to scroll through dozens of junky trinkets to get to what I actually need. With the urge to menu lost, I resign myself to having Penelo keep the ribbon and stick to bonking. This RPG is in a perpetual state of logistical combat. Instead of finding the right balance between real world menuing time and game world gambit time, I chose the most inefficient path, all because I didn't think to sell off the useless equipment. Granted, a lot of this is rendered moot by the game running anywhere from 2x to 4x its original speed. Lousy setups and poor decisions fly by at lightning speed. 

Sidenote: I think Square-Enix deserves all the flowers for their contributions towards making fast-forward a valid way to play RPGs. 

Another aspect of combat that highlights my substandard approach to the genre is Paling. For the unaware, Paling is a temporary immunity to all physical and magical damage. This shows up a lot in the late game, especially if you're hunting marks and super-bosses. I never liked it, yet only now am I beginning to understand why. Paling is the game attempting to re-establish a rhythm to the boss battle. It's actually not that dissimilar to the stagger mechanics that would define FF13. To put it another way, it's a reminder that I'm playing on terms that are not my own and should adjust my gameplan until that phase of the battle has ended. Also, I suppose it's only fair that the enemy gets a turn. I think I just get really salty when I'm forced to play defense, as if I hadn't given myself enough of an advantage with the two Wyrmhero Blades and two Ribbons I've been carrying around.

Trial Mode is a fantastic addition in many ways. Its battles are shorter, yet often more complex and difficult. Stage 17 immediately comes to mind with its three Mindflayers. Facing multiple marks or bosses at a time requires a lot more planning and specialized setups. Although, being honest, I played this mode because it provides a less time-consuming way to obtain incredible gear. The Wyrmhero Blade is normally awarded after killing almost everything in the entire game. In Trial Mode, it's a stage 50 steal. Even if this isn't the most balanced way to approach FF12, I still think it's the most enjoyable. If I want all the cool stuff while maintaining a legitimate story-only run, then it'll require dealing with a ton of side-quests. Many of these optional excursions are the kind that contributed towards my hatred of the vanilla game.

It must be said that my last (hopefully ever) playthrough of this game wasn't a 100% completion run. There are a number of places that I flat-out didn't explore. I still get lost in Vagrant Story's Snowfly Forest. Why would I ever bother with Great Crystal? One optional dungeon I did finish was the depths below Pharos, and that was big fucking mistake. The reward for stumbling through the dark while farming orbs was an annoying boss and a couple megalixirs I never used. I never talked to those hunters out in the Phon Coast, because I didn't want to get wrapped up in their mind-exploding trophy hunt. Yiazmat probably could've been doable, especially at 4x speed, but I settled for just Hellwyrm. The reason I bring all this up is because I have an adversarial relationship with a lot of S-E's post-game content. Fighting reskins with inflated stats and immunities out the wazoo just isn't that appealing. Getting party-wiped in FF5 Advance because some random monster fatal counters X-Fight is some shit that I'd rather just stay away from.

There's plenty of non-combat stuff I really liked. Putting spells and other powerful abilities in chests was an excellent change. Exploration on the whole is more rewarding than before, and that comes entirely down to giving players something to look forward to. One could argue that it's about the journey and not the destination, but this is a Remaster of an Arrangement, the journey's been made. Square-Enix taking the time to make the destination worthwhile lifts the entire experience. Some nice - but not essential - equipment is still subject to chance, but otherwise there's plenty to obtain just from playing normally. The story still isn't amazing, but I've grown to appreciate the character-work a ton. As with Vagrant Story, a lot of the best acting is done with the eyes. The slightest most subtle changes in facial expressions speak volumes. There's a scene in Nalbina Fortress where Fran gives this kinda awkward yet immensely endearing smile and it's just... Damn. Absolute genius work there, cramming years of backstory and characterization into a single moment.

Sadly, I can't think of much else that I want to say. Spending over 280 hours on a single game hasn't given me any deeper insight. If my battle strategies are any indication, I might've even regressed a little. Critiquing a game requires this "always-on" mentality, which is hard to keep up as the years drag on and the injuries accumulate. Still, I had to say something, because otherwise this broken body & mind wouldn't let me rest. 

2026 Special - The Wing of Madoola

Lucia's prince has been captured by an evil dragon! Now she must fight through 16 stages of forests, caverns, and fortresses to rescue him. Bear the infinite hordes as they run havoc through the kingdom. Seek powerful artifacts that increase the armored princesses' attributes or gift powerful spells. Seek the legendary Wing of Madoola to brave the dragon's fire. Lest all hope is set ablaze and the dreams of a brighter tomorrow become dust. 

There we are! A nice succinct intro that gets across what this 1986 action-adventure by Sunsoft is all about. Sure, I probably could've mentioned that the name of the kingdom is Badham, the titular Wing of Madoola is a statue that had been coveted by warring nations for centuries, and some guy named Darutos used it to summon a demon-spewing fortress. I'm too lazy and uncaring to check if the prince has a name. Hell, I didn't even know one was part of the equation until the ending; which leads to an invasive thought I can't help but consider. Does the ruling power over Badham belong to the King or Queen? Seems like a raw deal to save someone only to be subservient to him. If I was Lucia, I would've held an emergency session with my advisors, worked out some provisions, and then rescued the prince. The way I see it, if he's going to spend however long it takes for Lucia to save the world lying face-first in the dirt, then he'd better be willing to accept all of his savior's terms. It may sound rude, but we don't know this guy's name! What if he turned out to be Henry the VIII?!? 

Alright, that's enough with the pointless aside. Let's move on to the even more pointless review. 

Get this nucleus thingie stuck on a wall for an easy win.

As it was spelled out earlier, the goal of the game is to navigate several stages - both straightforward and maze-like - whilst hunting for permanent upgrades and an orb that allows passage to the next stage. Orbs are guarded by bosses, almost all of which will be demoted for failing to stop the princess. Don't be surprised by how often a once formidable boss becomes just another infinitely spawning goon. Actually, forgive me. I'm giving way too much credit to most of these fiendish fools (many of which are only capable of rushing into Lucia's blade). The Wing of Madoola is notorious for its high level of difficulty, but it's not the fair and balanced kind that leads players to blame themselves for losing. My opinion is that this game is several small tweaks away from being something that I can confidently recommend. It doesn't benefit from having monsters that can do anywhere from 30 to 800 points of damage. Being trapped in one spot and bombarded with baddies isn't quality entertainment. Oh, and there's certainly no satisfaction let alone enjoyment in trying to go without continues.

I'm sure it's a point of contention for some, but if continuing a game is as simple as holding one button and then hitting start, then I'll roll with the assumption that it's a feature intended for all players and not a cheat. Furthermore, its thoughtful implementation is kind of shocking for a 1986 game. After holding select and hitting start, the player is brought to a screen where they can select the stage they died at, or any of the other previously completed stages. Depending on where you go, items you might've forgotten, or some end-game glitch; soft-locks are very possible. This alleviates a ton of frustration, though there's still plenty to go around.

In a move that's quite surreal, the first thing The Wing of Madoola teaches its players is to avoid enemies. Lucia's level 1 sword is a joke, and the monsters never stop piling onto the screen. Even after the weak weapon situation is handled, avoiding unnecessary fights is still crucial to progress. The Nyuru, or Sue as I like to call them, are purple ghosts that home in on Lucia, unceasing in their assault and dealing a cruel 200 points of damage with every touch. An interesting aspect of these fiends is that they can be almost entirely avoided by crouching. They'll sit and hover over the princess, making it look as if she is heading to a Halloween party as a Ms. Pacman villainess, but they won't inflict pain until she stands up. Though you can - and obviously will - slice through the ghosts, their replacements tend to be less-than-a-second behind. The best strategy is usually leaving the immediate area and/or "herding" the ghasts so they aren't attacking from every possible direction. Most other small enemies don't require nearly as much effort to evade, which is good. If everything else was even half as aggressive as Sue, my tolerance for this game would've evaporated in an instant.

What kept me playing was the level-design. It's a surprisingly intriguing mix of labyrinthian paths, progress-hindering platforming, and outright "We put tough enemies in a dead-end corridor just to fuck with you." brutality. I had to retry stages, but the continue system being so generous that it tracks collected items and defeated bosses is a massive boon. There's still plenty of nastiness though. The Sue-laden towers of the final stages are irksome. One of the caverns features some falls that'll put cracks in your soul. I don't even want to picture what the game would be like if there weren't any healing fountains. Trying to keep Lucia healthy with potions that only seem to appear once for every 40 dead enemies isn't an efficient use of one's time. Maybe it's because they're both Sunsoft games, but I'm reminded of my ill-fated attempts to farm hearts before a boss battle in Batman. I'd finally get one heart after punching however many foes, only to screw up and undo it all. 

Though I'm not showing it often enough, I actually have very little reason to dislike The Wing of Madoola. My harrowing experience with Athena on the NES must've created an opening, a hole in the armor that could be easily exploited by a game that does more than fall on its face. There are multiple issues worth covering, but I don't see the value in bothering. Besides the fire sword, none of the magic items are usable in any practical capacity. The hardest-hitting monsters are never more than a few hits away from their own death. So-called climactic encounters are decided by whomever lands the first strike. After finally escaping its deluge of fire, I figured out the final boss's pattern in half a minute. Yet despite all those issues, I have a fondness for thi- Wait a minute! 

Damn! Is that really all it takes? Am I so superficial that I'll forgive everything as long as the final boss is a pushover? Oh my god. All those poor Valis games. They tried so hard, and yet all I did was lambast them for their obnoxious ludicrous final bosses. I probably would've given Megaman 7 a pass if its Dr. Wily confrontation wasn't some bullshit. Or maybe, I'm not superficial and one of my few consistent traits as a critic is that I can't forgive a game when its final minutes leave a penetrating stench that clouds both the end as well as all subsequent thoughts of ever replaying it.

In short, I have a fondness for this game but can't give it a wholehearted recommendation. No harm in sating a little curiosity though...

2026 Special - Athena (NES)

If you're here to read my nuanced (or nonsense) thoughts about the SNK arcade classic Athena, then you'll be waiting a bit longer. The topic of the day is the Famicom port by Micronics. It is, as you probably already know, a shithouse full of shit sandwiches. Look, I'm not going to complain too much, because I went into this with negative expectations. Athena NES is one of the most infamous games on the venerable 8-bit platform, and it doesn't take more than a few seconds of playing to understand why. The music is tortuous ear-splitting mayhem. Controlling the Goddess of Wisdom is an experience so inscrutable that it feels like a meta-commentary. Oh, and the whole fucking thing runs like it's about to melt and explode at the same time. I've cussed three times in a single paragraph! That is the state I am in right now!

I don't believe a normal review with paragraphs or whatever can do justice to this monstrosity. Instead, I'm going to post pictures, then explain what's going on and why it sucks. I've never considered myself much of a wordsmith anyway; more an idiot who wastes his time chasing jet-powered unicorns. Besides, if I thought there was anything here worth defending, I'd put a little effort towards weaving an enchanting narrative. There really truly sincerely isn't a single iota of value here. A good story requires suspense; a task made impossible when I've already given everything away. 

Ready? Let's get on with this bullshit.

In a display of incompetence most stunning, Micronics botched the jump. The first time you press the jump button, Athena does a short hop. The next two button presses, provided they occur a second apart from each other at most, cause the heroine to leap high into the air. Her next jump, regardless of when you press the button, is always going to be a short hop. Was this supposed to be arcade accurate, and if so, then how the hell did SNK make any money from it? Don't answer that. Assume all questions are rhetorical. To sum it up, if you want to leap across a pit or reach a high ledge, then you have to either "prime the pump" with the first button press or make sure that your two previous jumps within the past couple seconds weren't also high jumps. I can't remember the last time I played such a deranged action-platformer.

The fantasy world that Athena inhabits is governed by laws that are unfathomable to mere mortals. Here, we see the heroine grab a bag of money. The game implies that bag is worth 500 points, but if you check the score, you'll see that's clearly not the case. Also, there isn't an invisible digit like in that one kusoge Famicom RPG. 100-point bags of yen are also worth 50. For a game that awards 1ups when certain score thresholds are reached, this is kind of a problem. Then again, I can't imagine anyone spending enough serious time with the port for it to matter. But hey, we'll throw it on the pile.

Anyone who dares to attempt the game is going to eventually hit the roadblock that is the fifth boss. How do you defeat it? Not with a huge sword that's coated in flames, apparently. It doesn't matter if Athena is swinging a sword, a hammer, a ball & chain, or anything else, because none of those weapons are going to work. She needs the bow & arrow. How could you, the player, ever guess? It's not as if there was a single hint. Swear on my everything, it's as if this game tried to mash together Tower of Druaga and Ghosts n' Goblins, ethics be damned. Forcing the player to give up a life, and possibly start from the beginning, over something so inane is extremely rude game-design. It certainly doesn't help that the bow is entirely useless outside of the fifth boss. Picking it up any other time is consigning our hapless heroine to the grim reaper.

Since Ghosts n' Goblins has been brought up, I have to mention that there exists at least one person in the entire universe who thought that having useless weapons drop in the player's path was a good idea. Who knows why they were allowed to get into game programming, but maybe there's an actual reason and I just don't care to find out. In all seriousness. Athena NES's penchant for attempting to drown its players in useless weaponry has to be pointed out, because it leads to situations like the above. Athena's blue sword isn't capable of destroying bricks. It's impossible to walk back and locate a hammer or a stronger sword. Given the circumstances, all one can do is wait for the timer to run out and give the stage another shot. I'm going to assume anyone who got this far decided enough was enough and dropped the game entirely. Even in 1987 there were tons of better choices out there. 

Here's a fun glitch. When Athena is struck by an enemy or projectile, she's thrown backwards a little bit. There isn't any sort of invulnerability period after taking damage, but it's supposed to be balanced out by a lengthy health meter and armor. I say supposed to because there's always a possibility of getting juggled into oblivion by a flying head or some projectiles. Venomous creatures can also cause poison, which is not easily cured when antidotes are only found in the walls. Point is, it's easy to die. If, for reasons that are best left unexplained, you want to see Athena die even faster, then hold down. Crouch, eat an arrow, and watch that health meter go from nearly full to totally dead in less than two seconds. If you're quick enough, you can let go of the d-pad and only lose a portion of health. No doubt there's a technical explanation, and I'd like to hear about it.

Here's another issue that might actually be in the arcade game. I can't imagine why though because it's fucking terrible. Stages tend to have multiple paths, and reaching the boss isn't always just a matter of running from left to right for long enough. That's all well and good, but what isn't good is that there are some holes that dump Athena back to the beginning of the stage, sans her weapon and armor. This particular instance - stage 2 for crying out loud - is outrageous because falling in-between those platforms is surprisingly easy. You have to bash those blocks above Athena before making the jump, or else she bumps her head and OOPS! This feels like one of those joke games where every gag is directed at the player. One other thing: If Athena is carrying a "K", then she doesn't lose her equipment after dying or falling into the wrong pit. I can't understand why something that doesn't kill her would have such a high cost attached to it.

Since the fifth boss is immune to everything except the bow, you'd think the developer would be courteous enough to place one near the boss. Instead, pretty much all of the bows drop in the first half of the stage. Also, there's a rock wall 2/3rds of the way through prevents the player from carrying anything except a good sword or hammer. In a move that's just plain despicable, the only bow that can be obtained is indicated by the red circle. However! If I grab the bow right now, then I can't break through this wall to reach the boss! What I should've done is break the block underneath first, creating a hole for both bow and goddess to fall through. Since I didn't do that, there's a pretty good chance the bow will disappear before I can collect it. Mercifully (?), there's an easy 1up a few screens back, which makes up for the forced loss of life. The stage still has to be replayed, and if Athena dies again because she has no armor, then oh well. That's the price for playing a Micronics game.

World of Hell is exactly what you'd expect. I didn't mention it earlier, but swimming stages have these fishmen that drop magic wands when they die. Wands fire projectiles and don't have any melee capabilities whatsoever. In other words, Athena can have three monsters right on top of her and- okay those are not the other words I should've used. Let me just say that fishmen drop weapons that are implicitly designed to screw the player over. Funnily enough, just being down here means they're shit out of luck. All that happens if someone manages to reach the end of the swimming section is they get to try the stage again, because they were never supposed to fall into a pit in the first place! World of Hell is first and foremost a platforming stage. Feel free to ponder how that could work in a game that's already miserable to play.

I'm at the point now where nothing should surprise me, but this teleporting boss is trying their best. The circle in the first screen indicates that the boss - or at least its hitbox - has appeared, so for a split-second or so, Athena is taking damage from an invisible enemy. Yeesh. 

If there's anything else, I'll be sure to show it to ya'll.

Until then, take it away, Yuko. 

"Oh my God."

Steam Look - Astrolancer

As I type up this review on software that demands more CPU power than the entirety of the 16-bit generation combined, I can't help but be on-my-knees grateful that games like Astrolancer are still being made. Whoa! Slow down! It's a little too early to heap on the praise, isn't it? I guess there's just something strangely wonderful about playing a game while not having any nostalgia tied to the NES classic it's inspired by. Normally, these throwbacks are plain as day about their inspiration, and the inevitable comparisons end up burying the lede. The Guardian Legend is one of very NES games that I didn't get around to finishing until last year. I'm older than dirt and obsess over cult titles, yet I never got around to one of Compile's all-timers. I didn't have 30 years to build my identity around a single piece of media, causing me to launch into a tirade whenever the new game isn't like the old game. For once, I can look at the flourishes when Lancer Two transforms or her damage animation and just think, "Cool references!" 

More to the point, Astrolancer is a tribute to the days when two entirely different developers could release Adventure/Shmup hybrids in the same year. Studio Hexeye shows a lot of love for both the past as well as the present through this remarkable game. Whether intentional or not, the lack of achievements is a lowkey appreciable feature. It allows players to decide the terms and not be judged because they opted for modernized controls or even cheats. Let's be real for a minute, everyone back in the day was using guides & codes to get through games. It was, at least publicly, an acceptable practice. Nowadays though, you can't do that sort of thing because it'll disable the achievements. Try to ignore it and next thing you know, your Steam profile has some weird completion percentage. They're all meaningless stats yet also designed to be inescapable, as if every second spent on a game must be tracked, documented, and scrutinized forever. Social media exasperates the problem by cultivating an endless parade of freakmonsters that'll shout "skill issue" from the rooftops, ruining what's supposed to be a personal journey about creating challenges and overcoming them. I know I'm way off topic, but escapism doesn't feel like escapism anymore. We've gotten so wrapped up in developer's intent or whatever that we've forgotten that there's no wrong way to play a video game*. 

Now that I've dug a fine hole to bury this review in, let's move on to actually talking Astrolancer.

The Galactic Council has tasked Lancer Two with eliminating the Formatroid menace. Out in the furthest reaches of space, these shapeshifting bots have taken over a mining colony. To ensure a successful mission, Lancer Two's internal Black Hole Bomb is primed to detonate the instant she falls in battle. The blast will eliminate the Formatroids as well as the planet they're occupying. Exploding a planet sounds like an extreme measure, but whoever said that the Galactic Council had to be concerned about preserving the galaxy? As sketchy as it all sounds, our heroine must survive seven stages of overhead-shooting-action to save the planet and herself. 

Very unlike its inspiration, this game opts for a straightforward adventure. The first half of the stage - the on-foot portion - has the protagonist walk from point A to point B, whilst occasionally seeking hidden rooms and the E.C.s contained within. Most of the time however, she'll be accosted by enemy robots. As threatening as they are practical, the shape of a Formatroid provides a subtle hint about their capabilities. If one is shaped like a cross / plus sign, then it's going to fire in four different directions. Cone-shaped bots drill their way to the surface and throw projectiles. If you see a robot that has a humanoid form with a big gun in their hands, then it should be pretty obvious what they're going to do next. The one constant shared by robots of all shapes and sizes is the desire to shoot bullets. Their capabilities range from shots aimed directly at Lancer Two all the way to huge patterns designed to cause a beautiful death. I hate making assumptions, but anyone that develops a Touhou farming sim must be a big fan of bullet-hells.

Now, let's pretend for a moment that I was worried about how an overhead-shooter with danmaku-tendencies would turn out. I mean *cough* there's potentially so much that could go wrong when the player has to micro-dodge around an arena that's salted & peppered with bullets. Furthermore, unless modern controls are chosen, Lancer Two doesn't have any strafing functionality. Players would have to constantly reorient themselves to ensure the boss is being targeted. I say all this, knowing full well that Astrolancer 100% nailed what they were aiming for. Fighting bosses is a seamless and pleasurable feat. Their patterns are appropriately spaced out, giving players more than enough time to aim and shoot. Also, on normal difficult at least, there are enough moments where the heroine can stand in betwixt the chaos, pummeling her opponent all the while. The sooner you understand the pattern, the faster you can get to the safe spots. It's natural, gratifying, and quite fun. 

Lancer Two can strike mine carts with her sword to send them rolling through enemies. Also, this might be one of the only times I like seeing a mine cart in a video game.

The second half of each stage is a full-on shmup; pure as a mountain breeze. Lancer Two pursues the boss she had just fought on the ground, blasting any approaching formatroids into space-dust. I have no complaints whatsoever. Each STG stage moves quickly, plays fair, and ends with a very nice boss battle. These multi-phase fights are all well-executed. Bullet-patterns are diverse, interesting, and appropriate for the difficulty setting I went with. Actually, now that I think about it, there are over 25 bosses in the game. I can't think of a single one that made me go "Hm... I don't know..." That's awfully impressive! Although, I suppose if I wanted to get really nitpicky, I'd point out the three or four boss phases that go for 10 or 15 seconds longer than they should. This is nowhere near enough to warrant the docking of points from my review-score, but it is a nitpicky thought that somehow survived long enough to appear in this write-up. Before you scroll ahead thinking that I've finally gotten with the times. No, there isn't going to be a review-score. All scores remained locked in the vault until the heat death of the universe. 

Alongside its plethora of kick-butt bosses, Astrolancer features a very nice selection of weapons and abilities to try out. Lancer Two is equipped with a cannon that fires straight ahead. It's good enough for any situation, and the alternate firing mode is great for close-quarter-encounters (though ECs are required to unlock it). Her secondary weapon can be anything from a shotgun to a bazooka to homing rockets. Depending on one's playstyle they can be niche, or more dependable than even the main cannon. Whichever secondary she decides to use is up to the player, and they can swap it out at checkpoints or prior to a shmup stage. If the Lancer is feeling boxed-in by a surplus of bullets, they can break out of immediate danger with the dash attack. It's also handy for flying through crowded corridors. One neat aspect is that its recharge time is dependent on whether the player taps the button or holds it down. 

Rounding out Lancer Two's arsenal is a wide assortment of auxiliary weapons. She starts with a sword, and depending on the player's loadout, can either be just another weapon or the core of one's gameplan. With enough upgrades, the sword will siphon energy from formatroids and add it L2's reserves. Auxiliaries won't function without energy, so choose weapons that suit the range you're most comfortable in and make every shot count. While I'm on the subject, choice is a big part of the game. Located in almost every stage is an armory, wherein the player can choose one of three auxiliaries. The other two can be purchased in-between stages, but ECs are hard to come by and thus should be spent on permanent upgrades. Honestly, there isn't a wrong way to play the game. Weapons - secondary and auxiliary alike - are designed with purpose and value, yet none aside from the default are required to save the planet. Since they can't have it all, the player's choices make each playthrough unique. If you're still intent on having it all, then don't fret, because there's a New Game+ option.

I don't know how else to say it; this is just a good-ass game. I like the speed at which the protagonist walks. I love that the harder difficulty settings don't increase the enemy's damage output. Bullets are faster, more plentiful, and non-boss encounters up the intensity. These are all great ways to make a game harder to win instead of easier to lose. Aesthetics are all on point. Charming character-designs with a good usage of color and a creative UI really uplift the experience. Astrolancer is exactly what I want to see in a throwback. I admire how this future cult-classic respects its inspiration and has the confidence to try fresh ideas. Instant recommendation.

*Yes, I know there are exceptions, but did you want me to get to the actual game review or not?