Super Nintendo Look - Q*bert 3

Some 40 years after its earliest incarnation hit the arcades, I've accepted that Q*bert might not be for me. Its concept is instantly approachable and the controls are solid, but I don't think we'll ever be on the same page. This is likely due to a core mechanic that's introduced after a few stages are cleared. At first, clearing a stage is as simple as hopping onto every cube at least once. Once becomes twice a little later, but it's still fun. My interest starts fading when the cube's color repeatedly changes no matter how many times Q*bert stomps on it. This causes stages to take much longer to clear. Not only does every misstep have to be corrected, but the same must be done for every step taken to reach that misstep. 

Classic arcade games tend to have "walls" that prevent all but the most dedicated players from tying up a machine for more than a few minutes. The issue I have with Q*bert's wall is that it creates tedium. Call it a philosophical difference, but if I'm playing what is essentially the same stage over and over, then I need some permeance. If Pac-Man eats a dot, then that dot stays eaten for the remainder of the stage. Having to constantly retrace steps makes me feel like I'm in a temporal anomaly. I've lost sight of my goal, yet everything still wants me dead. Maybe it's not that deep, and I just think forcing extraneous steps on players is dead-end game design.

Anyway, my plan for September is to play and write about 27 SNES games. That's one for each letter of the alphabet. Super is a letter onto itself just because it's so damn prevalent. If you're wondering why you're reading a Q*bert 3 write-up from a non-fan of the original, then it's because there are no other games in the system's library that start with the letter Q. Before digging into the game proper, I have to give props to Realtime Associates for the control schemes they've devised. As fans are probably aware, the arcade game had a joystick that could only move diagonally. To emulate this, the developers implemented a default setting that allows players to hold the SNES controller... diagonally. That's pretty neat, but I think there's an even better setting. The one I chose maps the four directions to the four face buttons. It's flawless! Not once did I ever accidentally leap into the abyss. For the most part, my deaths were the result of poor playing.

While it's not the first entry to do so, Q*bert 3 sets itself apart from the original by featuring stages that vary in size and shape. There are 100 in all. While the gameplay remains the same, the diverse layouts create new challenges. Q*bert still has to contend with all of his old foes, and now they're joined by froggies and derbies. Frogs are slower to act than their reptilian allies, but they never leap off of the stage. When the paths narrow, getting around them gets quite difficult. Derbies (and perhaps other hats) move in fixed patterns, usually in areas that get a lot of traffic. Pipe cannons spit dangerous red balls, but only after turning twice. If there's one onscreen, expect to keep a mental count of when they'll fire next, or suffer. 

Each stage has at least one or two qualities that help it stand out. Some of them are composed of small islands, and Q*bert uses the floating discs to travel between them. Although, this does remind me of the time when it jumped off a disc after arriving at an island and was immediately killed by a waiting frog. I think that particular stage (5-2) wasn't tested enough. I appreciate the willingness to try new ideas. The early-game pacing is also quite nice. Stages move quickly, and skillful play feels very rewarding. Why, this could have been an ideal game in the series if it hadn't stayed so true to its arcade roots.

After the 16th stage in Q*bert 3, the cubes change color every time they're landed on. I disliked this mechanic in the arcades, and it's even worse here. The only reason it worked before was because every stage had the same open layout. There was room to maneuver. This entry often features claustrophobic stages with very few routes. A lot of times, a retreat is necessary to avoid death, but that creates more cubes that'll have to be fixed. Hopping back & forth repeatedly to clean up every single misstep gets tiring. 

Speaking personally, this game stretched itself past the breaking point by combining arcade mechanics with home-port content. Attempting to complete 100 stages in what one sitting, let alone in pursuit of a high score, is just not feasible when 84% of them are susceptible to problems that fall outside of the player's control. Yes, it's ultimately the player who decides where Q*bert goes, but nearly every step creates disorder. In the corner of one stage, there was a short scuffle as the player navigated their way around a frog or snake. They'll have to come back to that corner eventually, because its colors are all wrong. Again, every step taken to clean up that mess will create another. The issue is exasperated n narrow corridors where there's only one way through. 

In the end, I may be a non-fan who probably should've kept his mouth shut and his hands off of the keyboard, but that can't prevent me from questioning Q*bert 3's logic. There are a ton of stages, and most of them grind to a halt the instant a less-than-perfect player has to deal with an unexpected situation. A lot of work went into creating all the new content, yet the game adheres to a core mechanic that's explicitly designed to keep it from being seen. 

I don't get it.

2026 Special - Kaizou Choujin Shubibinman Zero

The B.B. Corps have invaded the city! It's up to Raita and Azuki, Resident Cyborg Shockmen, to crush their evil schemes and restore order. This basic premise sets up eight stages of side-scrolling action. In the hopes of putting together an intro that wasn't just the two previous sentences, I came across an interesting bit of speculation. As you know, Kaizou Choujin Shubibinman Zero was a Satellaview exclusive from 1997 to 1998. During the eleven months this downloadable game was available, its publishers held a contest. Players would compete to reach the top of the in-game scoreboard. Apparently, prizes were involved, but that's not why I brought this up. What I'm curious about is the competitive scene. There has to have been a time when players were working with and against each other to achieve the highest possible score in this game.

Playing non-fighters competitively has been a part of video games since forever ago. Besides the incredible amounts of skill and practice involved, achieving the highest score or the fastest time required knowledge. That means every secret bonus or shortcut had to be discovered. I played through this game and had a good time, but curiosity didn't take hold until I saw my low ranking. A typical playthrough without a lot of mistakes wasn't good enough to crack the top 25. It's no wonder the difficulty felt a little light. I was actually expected to play using a perfectionist's mindset. Not only was I supposed to win; I had to do it without taking damage or missing an ounce of treasure. 

I don't believe that Kaizou Choujin Shubibinman Zero has hidden scoring mechanics. Instead, it places an emphasis on discovering the perfect route. Each encounter must be handled with care. If Azuki gets hurt, then the next healing item she obtains will replenish her health. Staying alive is nice and all, but the stings from missing an extra 500 to 2000 points add up. Defeating B.B. Corps goons is effortless thanks to the great mechanics and controls. However, the player has to be sure that they're always in position to recover the treasures that deceased goons leave behind. Knocking someone into a pit is the fastest way to get rid of them, but also the costliest. It's these elements that give the game staying power.

Since this is the 2026 Special, Raita will stay ignored and unloved for the remainder of the review. Sorry dude, but I'm here for the dudettes with weapons. At first, Azuki's sword is slightly off-putting. Its reach is a smidge smaller than the blade would indicate. Adjusting takes no time at all thanks to the fact that enemies aren't capable of contact damage. The lowliest goons will throw a bunch if they're close enough, so always be ready to cut them off. Along with a short combo that can eliminate most anything in a few hits, holding down the attack button primes the "Shubibi-beam". The game smartly allows players to prime this projectile the instant after an attack is performed. After a jump-kick, a crouching slash, whenever. Its ability to be performed at-will gives combat a nice energy. Definitely don't forget about her jumping slash either. Pressing the attack button twice in mid-air causes the cyborg to perform a speedy sword technique that does immense damage to anything that flies or is just really tall. With this burst of boss wrecking momentum, it's hardly any wonder why Azuki is the go-to gal for speedruns. 

The level-design is kept straightforward and semi-simple. Each stage usually has one or two unique elements like a different enemy or some different traps to avoid. Focusing on the basics was the right call, as none of the stages set themselves apart in ways that are detrimental to the score-centric adventure. There aren't any elevators or vehicle sections, and the moving platform segments are appropriately sparse. Enemy placement is also well done. Since pick-ups can't be collected from environmental objects like crates or barrels, goons and other foes are distributed more heavily. Fighting is always emphasized, and it suits the game well.

Since most of the bosses are a jumping slash or three away from dying laughably, I don't have a lot to say about them. The most difficult fights tend to be cyborg vs cyborg battles with Kagemaru. He's a mercenary who gets a few upgrades before finally accepting defeat. Use his arena's layout and AI against him, or risk dealing with the moves he learned from too much HnK & DBZ. Perhaps the most challenging aspect of some fights is that the heroine might not reach them with full health. Although, I figure players won't even notice. This could just as well be a non-event that I'm dressing up because there literally isn't anything else to say. 

Kaizou Choujin Shubibinman Zero keeps the frills and spectacle to a minimum, as they'd merely distract from the arcade-like experience Masaya was going for. Much of the game's appeal is in mastering each stage and smashing B.B. Corps with flawless precision. Players who aren't about that score-attack life should still give this a playthrough, as it is solid to the core. Enjoying it doesn't require a taste for often middling action-platformers with obtuse jumping controls and instant-death pits. Give it a go if you haven't already. 

SHEEH!

Super Nintendo Look - Flying Hero

Flying Hero: Bugyuru no Daibouken tells the tale of a little round fellow on a quest to save his best friend. Said quest plays out across eight acts, each of which contain 2 or 3 bosses that need a good blasting. Let me just go ahead and say, wow. Sting created a unicorn. A Super Famicom shmup that doesn't skimp on stages or bosses, has no slowdown, and can be comfortably finished in less than 40 minutes? I didn't even have to play the game to recognize that it's something special. The visuals are also quite impressive. I was legitimately shocked to discover that this was a late 1992 release. It looks at least a couple years ahead of its time. Every instance of Mode 7 is perfect. Since you already clicked on this article, I wouldn't mind if you left right now to check the game out for yourself.

If you're still here, then I'll let you on a secret. By inputting a special code at the title screen, you are guaranteed the best possible experience. Ready for it? Okay then. When the title screen appears, press the start button once. That's it. You might've visited GameFAQs and read about an option m- just ignore it. There are three difficulty settings, but Normal is the best. Don't try easy unless you're new to the genre. Don't pick Hard unless you're a critic looking for negatives to help pad out a review. Just hit that start button and get moving. 

Now, I don't know what exactly Bugyuru is doing that's causing baddie-bashing projectiles to appear. He could be spitting them from his mouth or creating them out of thin air with psychic powers. Shoot, he might be throwing bullets with his invisible hands. Either way, numerous problems are solved by holding down the fire button. Bombs can be dropped when the situation gets too hectic, but don't expect much of a breather. The area they clear is unexpectedly small. Practice flying the hero at level 2 or 3 speed, as survival depends quite a lot on maneuverability, as well as crushing enemies before they get a chance to act. Above all, make use of the L & R buttons whenever possible. Pressing them while firing causes Bug's shots to tilt in the indicated direction. L + R fires behind the ball. It'll see a lot of use, and for once I don't have reason to complain.

How this game implements the L & R buttons is brilliant. It's a lovely feature not just because it makes full use of the SNES controller, but also because it makes side and rear-shots seamless. Having weapons that fire to the sides or behind a ship isn't new, but typically they're a toggle or power-up of some sort. Players either press a button multiple times to cycle through their arsenal, or they give up a practical weapon in favor of something that has very little actual use. It gets to the point that one wishes shmup developers would stop having enemies spawn in from behind. Flying Hero made the right call by mapping everything to commonly pressed buttons. Switching angles is made easy, allowing players to remain focused on the action. They also have options besides a direct assault, because flying through the tiny space in-between every multiple spread could get a bit tiring.

While the starting shot is good enough to survive Bugyuru's adventure, there are two other weapons to try. Get ready, because this game loves its rule of 3. Three main weapons, three levels of power, a secondary that can be strengthened up to the three times, and a main weapon levels up when three cakes (or one triple cake) are collected. Stick to the default gun until you're comfortable, since its power also ties into the hero's life. Contact with an enemy or their attack drops the weapon level by one. If they keep taking damage, level one ball-guys start losing their secondaries. It's only after one has lost everything do they become vulnerable to death. It seems like a lot, but Bugyuru doesn't yelp! or anything when he gets hit, and the invincibility period that follows is pretty short. Still, since weapon-level isn't shared between mains, you could theoretically grab a different weapon, and gain another couple of hits, but only if you maxed out the weapon earlier. Sheesh! All this repetitive weapons and levels talk has me feeling nauseous. It's still worth pointing out though, as it's showing Sting's growth as a developer. They're starting to realize their individuality and thus their potential. Being unique - even if it means being semi-convoluted - is important and great.

Flying Hero's eight acts take place in a wide variety of environments. From land to sea to space, there is no place that our winged friend isn't pelting with bullets. It's a necessity too, because everything that has ever felt the essence of life in their soul wants to kill the hero. Waiting in the midst of the chaos are three witches. You'll meet the first in act 1's opening, summoning bats like a vampire. From then on, the screen is filled with all manner of beasts, each having trait or visual flair that makes them stand out. Enemy design is really good here. There's plenty to look forward to in each stage. Bosses are all unexpected, interesting, and look really cool. The expertly crafted pacing brings it all together. Action flows with calmness and determination. Encounters with large groups of baddies are suitably hectic. The moments of calm are appropriate signals that a new obstacle or mid-boss will arrive soon. I've said it before, but Sting knows their stuff. 

However, there will come a point when the adventure ends, and the player - you or someone else - will be wondering what's next. It's fair to wonder, especially since this is one of the easier STGs on the Super Famicom. This is normally the time one would move onto the Hard difficulty setting, but you've already read that I don't recommend it. Consider attempting a 1CC or no-death or a no-damage run first. Squeeze as much entertainment as you can out of Normal, because Hard is when the fun stops.

The most noticeable change on the Hard setting is that any enemy that takes more than one hit to destroy has received a substantial boost to defense. This not only results in longer boss battles, but destructible objects are also affected, making the enemies that use them far more dangerous. Sometimes this is welcome, as there are attacks and animations bosses that can't be seen when they die too quickly. One of the act 5 mid-bosses will throw pieces of its "brain" at the Hero. Once they're gone, all he can do is panic. Unfortunately, there are also bosses that really shouldn't be allowed to live for more than a few moments. On act 7, there's a two-headed mid-boss that swings around. They'll corner Flying Hero at a near instantaneous speed. If there's a trick to this battle, it won't be figured out in the first handful of attempts. Basically, it's guaranteed damage, and kind of unfair. I get that the difficulty setting is aimed at experts, but that particular fight is opaque. 

Another issue caused by increased enemy durability is that there's even less of an incentive to use weapons besides the default. The laser is a decent boss-killer as long as it's at full power, but the piercing shot just isn't enough for anything. Seemingly uncontested, the baddies will pile onto the screen, introducing flicker that gets in the way of one's bullet-dodging attempts. It turns a fluffy yet enjoyable shooter into a series of annoyances. Instead of a defense buff, I would've suggested increasing the enemy's response time; have them fire more frequently. Although, that just leads back to the issue of bosses not getting enough time to show off their entire repertoire. Maybe do a bit of both? I don't know. I'm just throwing out suggestions.

All in all, Flying Hero is further evidence that Sting Entertainment is finding their place in the sun. It's a unique cute 'em up that's confidently designed. There are enough good ideas and fun battles to create an unforgettable experience. I will recommend that you keep any and all memories of the game pleasant by ignoring the harder difficulty setting. Anyone thirsting for a challenge has plenty of choices, and at least one of them doesn't involve fighting a first boss for three straight minutes because they're built like ten tanks taped together.

I think you're amazing, but I don't want to spend all day fighting you.

Super Nintendo Look - Iron Commando

After an hour of bashing my head against this game, I felt drained, both mentally and physically. Gamers familiar with Iron Commando are about to say that isn't even enough time to complete one playthrough, but they should just talk to a hole, because I'm not here. Wait. That's not exactly true. Have you ever had one of those moments where you feel totally disconnected from the consensus? Everyone on Youtube says this game is just like The Punisher and it kicks butt. I mean, I can't say they're wrong about either statement. Both games feature a heavy emphasis on weapons. Just about anything that walks on two legs is carrying a knife or gun. Driving the point home is that grenades are dropped from above to clear the immediate area. Some animations might've been swiped as well. I certainly can't argue against an opinion's validity, unless it's my own. Seeing as how so many people like the game, then I must be in the wrong, and a reevaluation is necessary. 

Here's the problem though. I'm not interested in arguing whether or not this is a good game. That doesn't matter to me. Iron Commando is vigorously unfun, and I don't want to play it anymore. What this beatemup does is take the simplest part - punching someone - and turns it into an inconvenience. Less than half the punches thrown by the heroes actually land. In a genre where players are regularly contending with hundreds of bad guys, a 40% success rate with punches doesn't make any sense. Yet here I am, missing jaws by centimeters because both playable characters have subpar reach. Actually, there's more to it than that. Every bad guy is carrying a weapon, and they know exactly where to stand in order to maximize its potential. Standing outside of the good guy's reach just comes naturally. 

Does everyone need to carry a weapon? That question is one I keep circling back to. Yes, I can also pick up and use weapons, but they crumble to pieces or run out of ammo in three seconds. The lowest of the lowly goon has an unbreakable knife or infinite bullets. Their aggression is also tuned very high, so every moment feels like Julius Caeser's last. Being surrounded and overwhelmed is the default state of being here. Though I try, it seems as if there's little that can be done to improve my situation. Encounters are designed to be relentless and steal my agency. Before long, I start feeling less significant than the nearest bad guy. Performing jump-kicks helps a little, but not enough to make a real difference. I'm trapped, made to feel worthless in a genre that only works when the player-character is stronger and more skilled than a hundred men. Yep. Just stab and shoot the shit out of me while I fumble most of my attacks. I love action games that treat me like an ineffective lump. 

Some enemies don't carry weapons, and it's only because they have something even worse. There are these guys called Eriks. They charge across the screen and it's such a hassle to deal with. Dogs and snakes have the advantage of being very difficult to hit, and- I really don't like harming animals. It'd be one thing if they were mutant snakes or robot dogs, but nope. Obviously, the game knew my morale was bottoming out and threw some guilt on top. The point I'm trying to dance around is that there should've been at least one henchman without a weapon or a special talent. Let them punch or kick, but otherwise their existence is to serve the flow of combat. Iron Commando wanted every encounter to be a hurdle, and they got it. However, how can I be expected to get over the hurdles when my feet don't get a chance to touch the ground? 

I believe my biggest issue with this game isn't that it's too hard. Rather, it's too limiting. When the simplest and quickest action is more-than-likely the wrong one, it's as if the structure instantaneously collapses. I can't get past the fact that if I want to see the end of a stage without using five lives, then walking up to someone and hitting them is the worst idea imaginable. No, I have to grab and throw the enemies, as often as it takes. There's no satisfaction in throwing someone and seeing only a pixel of their health slide away, but the alternative is a miserable death. 

Also, this fucking thing did not need to be an hour and fifteen minutes, and that's assuming a near-perfect run without continues. Just the thought of ten longwinded stages that wear repetition and monotony like a two-piece swimsuit is squeezing all of the blood from my heart. Iron Commando borrowed everything from The Punisher, except for its svelte 45-minute runtime... and the fun. Again, I can't or at least shouldn't try to make definitive statements about a game I've already walked away from. That's just it though, I'm gone. This wasn't what I'd consider to be a fair review, but I'm not subjecting myself to a brawler that hasn't given me one iota of entertainment value. Maybe it's actually a good game, but I didn't have a good time with it.

Of course, the little that I did play still managed to include a vehicle section. Fucking Hell. 

Super Nintendo Look - Edono Kiba

Edono Kiba wants and I give. Edo no Kiba takes and I allow. Like any other symbiotic relationship, I begin to question if I'll ever receive something in return. This is an arcade game, after all. Playing it is supposed to be fun. Overcoming its tests should create feelings of exhilaration and catharsis. Instead, after the battles had ended, all we did was sit across from each other, and stare. Though the words gnawed at me with increasing ferocity, I couldn't allow any of them to escape. I knew that if I said anything, the game would instantly fire back with a "What the hell did you expect?" 

It's a little bit funny how Riot and I keep getting in these head-on collisions. Psycho Dream, Beast Wrestler, and Exile are just a few of the many games they're brought into this world, and I barely have anything nice to say about them. Today's review is for one of their other Super Famicom offerings, an autoscroller where a samurai cop battles cyber-terrorist group known as ZEER. I could be wrong, but ZEER sounds so much like ZEED from Shinobi that it has to be an intentional nod. Anyway, they have armored soldiers, giant mechs, bio-monsters, and even a battleship. Samurai cop has a sword. This isn't one of those kick-ass swords either. I'd even go so far to throw it in the same tier as Lagoon. Attempting to rely on it for anything will lead to pain and death. In order to complete this game, you'll have to use the charge attack, always. Hold the attack button down and then release it while pressing forward. There isn't a single good reason why the "pressing forward" part is necessary. 

Look. I'm just going to say it, because I mean it with all sincerity: Edono Kiba insists upon itself. 

The instant I started the game; I was treated to a crosshatch test (see header image). Apparently, my first thought was supposed to be "I'm about to get some Konami-quality arcade goodness on the Super Famicom!" No. No, my first thought was just oh. Perhaps taking offense at a crosshatch says more about me than it does about the game, but seriously; how often are they seen when a console game is booting up? Riot wanted me to see it. In spite of their track record, an attempt was made to set expectations. I would've respected their audaciousness if it led to a fun game, but... 

I've already mentioned the neigh-useless sword, so allow me to discuss Samurai cop himself. He is an unfortunate soul whose armor doesn't do nearly enough to protect him from harm. In fact, the slightest touch from a terrorist drains his health. Since he has to get extremely close to an enemy to slash them, incidental damage occurs at a feverish rate. Most of these bad guys aren't doing anything either. They're jogging along with hardly a care. There isn't even a point to fighting. As in, no points or awarded, no power-ups are acquired. I can't even revel in the violence because the violence is weak. Deftly shifting between lanes while striking down baddies never gets enjoyable. As I alluded to with the charge-and-hold-forward-to-release special attack, the controls have this intentional clunkiness that feels terribly out of place. This cop moves like a tank, but he gets so hurt so easily. It doesn't make sense.

This game is divided into six inconsistent acts. Acts 1 & 2 are straightforward run & slashers, but Act 3 is a Battleship stage. The variety could be neat, except all anyone will remember from Act 3 is trying to destroy homing missiles with that damned sword. Surprising no-one, the cop is a huge target, so a missile grazing his heel inflicts pain just as easily as if it hit him square in the chest. After that mess is Act 4, an infiltration mission where the player picks whichever door looks the most interesting. Next up is Act 5: a boss-refight. Riot took the second boss, gave it a new coat of paint and a couple additional attacks, then drew a big checkmark. This game is blatantly unfinished. The final act is at least conceptually cool, since it involves a Samurai riding an ICBM while destroying other ICBMs. However, it also falls apart thanks to its lousy final boss.

I shouldn't blame Riot for everything that went wrong with Edono Kiba. They had maybe a few months to get a workable product out the door. No doubt there were some talented visionaries who never got a chance to soar because they were trapped under Telenet's thumb. However, it's impossible for me to appreciate such an empty yet demanding game. 30 minutes of using the most-convoluted method to dispatch enemies because it's the only one that actually works is a waste of time. The appeal of being a cyber-samurai is lost and buried due the protag being a hopeless target who's in constant danger of being scratched by a falling leaf. I can't take any of this seriously.

Super Nintendo Look - Jerry Boy

Back when the SNES section of the local rental store was the most depressing spot in town, anything that didn't play like concentrated misery was good enough to trade away a weekend for. My younger self's criteria for a "good" game consisted of the following: stages that could be replayed without starting a new game, 1ups that are easy to collect, and some decent music. Enter Smart Ball, a charming platformer about a blob who squishes his way through land, space, and sea. In retrospect, I don't recall what convinced me to give this a rent. The less-than-interesting box-art and slimy main character certainly weren't enough. Maybe the only other available games were Spanky's Quest, Xardion, and Lagoon. Whatever the case, I do remember playing through it a couple of times, and even discovering some of the cool powers that Jerry is capable of.

Some decades later, I finished Jerry Boy, the game that would become Smart Ball after Sony Imagesoft finished stripping out every bit of the story. The action-stages remain untampered, some work was done to tighten the controls, but almost every NPC was tossed in a void. Bit of a shame really. Without towns and their residents, the world feels empty and a bit too surreal. Hell, the fact that Jerry is a prince was unknown to me until just recently. I also didn't know that the guy who gets turned into a larger villainous blob is actually Jerry's brother, Tom (also a prince). The whole reason this mess occurred is because Tom made a deal with an evil magician to screw over Jerry and steal his bride-to-be. Why am I suddenly reminded of Area 88? Never mind. 

Before I continue, there is one minor detail I shouldn't overlook. While the in-game story is nonexistent, Smart Ball's manual introduced both the characters and plot. It also featured full color artwork! Of course, all of this was lost to me because rentals never came with manuals.

Jerry Boy was the second game designed by Game Freak. If Ken Sugimori's art didn't give it away, the quirky mechanics and light puzzle-solving certainly would have. At first, being a blob isn't much different than being a plumber. Press B or A to jump, hold down Y or X to speed-up, and tap the L or R buttons to expunge any objects residing within the goo. Leaping onto a baddie doesn't immediately end their life. Instead, Jerry sits atop them SMB2 USA style. In time, manual-less players will discover that pressing down flattens the hero (and anything close-by) while pressing up does a bird-bashing stretch. Besides increasing his speed, Y or X causes the blob to stick to walls or ceilings he makes contact with. Each level provides numerous orbs that can be held inside of Jerry's body. Most exist to be thrown at the nearest enemy, but seeds, iron balls, and high-jump orbs have different uses.

Seeing as how blobs don't have a lot of traction, adjusting to the controls will take some time. As the endgame approached, I was still messing up on the basics. If you're the type of platformer fan who always holds down the run-button, then I seriously suggest holding off. Save the "running" for a replay or when it's needed to make a big jump. Use precise movements whenever there are small platforms or spikes nearby. This game gives a lot of opportunities to make mistakes, but not a lot of room. Short version: lives are plentiful, life is not. Unless his max health was raised with a heart container or two, Jerry starts every life just two hits away from death. There will be times where he dies horribly and you'll swear it wasn't your fault, and you'll be right. Not that it matters to the game, but... let me explain.

The hitboxes in Jerry Boy are not good. I'm sure there's at least one person in the world who is sick to death of hearing about hitboxes. In a way, I agree. Cutting down a retro title because of intangible objects does sometimes feel like a shortcut. It's like a free pass to avoid discussing level-design, bosses, or the other elements that form a game. Just say the hitboxes are not good and write everything else off. Review done. I don't want to be like that because I think the level-design is really solid. There are cute ideas interspersed throughout, all of which take advantage of the blob's unique characteristics. I like sliding through tunnels and doubling back if I'm about to bump into an enemy. Using other foes as if they were stepping stools is also handled very well. However, the most miniscule of missteps is enough to put Jerry in a life-threatening state or straight into the grave, and I won't accept the blame for all of his pain.

A spike extending from the wall deals damage when Jerry collides with nearby space. The blob can be split by a swinging blade that wasn't even close. I might also have to consider the possibility that the evil magician cast some sort of harm-attracting aura on our protagoonist. In a world of bad hitboxes, having a large hurtbox sounds like overkill, but I don't have any other conclusions to draw. At times, I had to play annoyingly safe in order to survive. Mashing down while waiting for enemies to approach is so inelegant. This is an assumption, but I figure the developer was aware of the issue, as most stages have five checkpoints, and bosses can be killed in seconds. Of course, that doesn't explain why Jerry never starts with a full health bar, but murmur murmur, yadda yadda, bleah.

In short, Jerry Boy doesn't reach its full potential. Thrilling battles had to be cut short. Complex obstacle courses were circumvented. This platformer is cute and creative, but it punishes every invasion of personal space with grievous harm. Maybe that shouldn't matter in a game where spare lives pile up to the ceiling, but it does affect my enjoyment. The music holds up pretty well at least.

Super Nintendo Look - Cacoma Knight in Bizyland

Once upon a time, there were three unlikely heroes who escaped disaster out of sheer laziness. Now the king - who is also a lazy shit - has tasked them with saving both princess and country. With magical chalk in hand, Jack and his fellow layabouts Jean & RB93 must stand against Queen Wagamama's misfits. Surviving 21 stages of line-drawing madness will take a steady hand as well as tons of memorization. Cacoma Knight in Bizyland is somewhere between undercooked and half-baked. Qix-likes are always rare and pleasant to see, but I just can't connect with this one. 

Qix is an arcade classic about drawing lines to fill space. Simple to grasp, hard to master, and ripe for countless iteratives. DaTaM Polystar's take on the formula involves having multiple enemy types as well as hidden power-ups to uncover. Basically, your chosen hero is never safe. Staying on completed lines or the surrounding wall puts them at risk of getting bashed by small goons. While drawing, they're hounded by larger foes capable of flight. Maybe they also have some dangerous objects to hurl about. Whatever the case, a life is lost if a projectile or flying enemy collides with the unfinished line. Each stage has 1-4 treasure chests. Their locations are fixed, and the power-ups they contain are a huge help. However, a chest can't be opened until one of the heroes draws a block around them. 

I'd ask why the game deemed it necessary to hide the treasure, but it's a question I might already know the answer to. Cacoma Knight expects players to memorize the chest locations, otherwise the game wouldn't have much depth. If there was a shiny sparkle, a clue hidden in the background, or anything that aroused suspicion, then players would quickly figure out the perfect drawing route. Also, stages are easy to clear with the right power-up. The bicep grants temporary invincibility, boots provide super speed, and 1ups do exactly what 1ups do. Since extra lives can't be obtained with points, there's even more of an incentive to just grab the chests.

While there are three playable characters to choose from, they suffer from having either strengths or weaknesses. Jean's drawing speed is ridiculous. She can zip across the field and clear huge chunks of the stage in a fraction of the time it'd take Jack. Her maneuverability in mid-draw isn't good, but she almost never has to worry about her line getting struck by a foe. Jack is the balanced choice. He's better at drawing, but so much slower. Finesse doesn't mean much in a game where the only good stuff is hidden treasure. One of the interesting but also irrelevant mechanics is that a few enemies can be destroyed if they're caught inside a space that has just been filled. This is something that Jack might be able to get some use out of, if destroying enemies served any real purpose. They respawn in less than three seconds, and it's impossible to get rid of anything noteworthy. Still, at least Jack isn't RB93. Talk about a sad joke. What this criminally slow piece of junk needed was a unique feature. Maybe he doesn't get killed when an enemy touches his unfinished line, something like that. Nope. It's just a trash-ass robot for the psychopaths who drag themselves across rivers of lava and thumbtacks. 

Cacoma Knight in Bizyland never finds the perfect difficulty balance either. Setting aside the fact that one's chances of reaching the end are strongly influenced by the number of 1ups they luck into, most stages can be cleared without much effort. It isn't until the final three stages where the deaths have a serious chance of piling up. Those goons that walk across lines start moving awfully fast. Getting blindsided by them becomes an overly frequent occurrence. Next thing that happens is a giant slime controls half the screen with its death-globs. Predictably, the final stage is harder than the rest of the game. Much like the hidden treasure, it's just a cheap method to extend playtime. 

Ultimately, this Qix-like isn't for me. It plays fine and has some whimsical charm, but the game feels like it's liable to punish me for trying to learn its intricacies. Pick the fastest character. Grab a stack of cheat sheets. Knock the entire thing out in 20 minutes. 

Bit odd that I have to pause the game to see how many lives are remaining.