2026 Special - Ikki Tousen: Xross Impact

Instead of spending November laser-focused on Queen's Domain, the indie sensation that deserves a gazillion GOTY awards, I've been combing the depths of shameless degeneracy. Ikki Tousen chronicles the misadventures of high school students who've inherited the souls of legendary 3rd century heroes. It's as if the Three Kingdoms never ended as school rivalries lead to ultraviolence. Of course, this being an ecchi series, the majority of the cast are buxom ladies whose clothes rarely survive a fight. I can't even begin to be surprised that Tamsoft, known for both Onechanbara and Senran Kagura, had developed a pair of Ikki Tousen games for the PSP.

I'm just going to say it: Xross Impact is a fun game. Yeah, it's an outright radioactive blend of sexploitative nonsense. At least a third of the animation frames include panty shots and the breasting boobily dial was turned all the way to the right. Rivals defeated with special moves are shown in compromising positions with their clothes all in tatters. While I believe myself to be on the right side of women's rights and make every effort to be aware of sexualization in media, I'm also a filthy motherfucker who spent way too many formative years on late-night Cinemax and bikini armor video games. The only reason I'm not offended is because that ship sailed many, many years ago. Dig deep enough and you'll discover that ** NSFW ALERT ** this isn't the first or even one of the first hundred trashy games that I've written about. Distressingly, my foremost concerns are often just whether the gameplay is good, which is why we're here today. 

After pressing the start button, players are given a choice of three modes, though the differences between the first two are rather minimal. In Story Mode, they choose one of three schools and then lead some of its students through 10 stages of side-scrolling beatemup action. There's a map screen, so they can decide where to go next, or revisit a previously cleared stage to earn some level-ups. In Arcade Mode, every unlocked character (and a partner) can be used to challenge those same ten stages. The map has been tossed out and replaced with a few bonus rounds. In either case, players are allowed to save their progress whenever they complete a stage. This is important not just because a typical playthrough can take multiple hours, but having a backup incase the heroines lose all of their spare lives will prevent headaches. Challenge Mode offers a slew of mini-stages with their own clear requirements. Besides being the best source for ability-unlocking battle points, sufficient progress raises the maximum number of available lives. 

If you've played a Tamsoft game before, then you're all too aware of how hard it is to start from the beginning. Besides the obvious lack of attack power and health, level 1 heroines are only able to use a small fraction of their move-set. Performing the same meager combo for an inordinate period of time makes the earliest portions of the game an annoying slog. I suggest starting with Arcade mode, preferably on the normal or hard difficulty setting. Unlike most brawlers with RPG elements, experience is awarded when an enemy is hit, not defeated. Naturally, sturdier enemies provide better leveling opportunities. Heroines capable of landing several hits in a short time also benefit from this system. I can't say I like having to grind about a dozen levels just to unlock someone's full potential, but eh... it's not really a huge deal. I'm already playing as Guan Yu's successor in what could be considered a 2D Dynasty Warriors; the grind is expected.

To be clear, this is an atypical beatemup. Hitboxes are comically large, so just about anything the gals do will hit somebody. However, only a long series of strikes, a power move, or super is going to stun someone, let alone knock them down. Interrupting an attack with a single button press is most likely not happening, which makes sense once you spend more than a minute with the game. These gals all fight like the descendants of ancient China's most powerful warriors. Crushing adversity underneath a parade of combos is simply a matter of hammering square and triangle at a 4:1 ratio. In Xross Impact, limitations don't exist. An enemy lying flat on their back is just one move away from being lifted back into the air and juggled to infinite oblivions. Burst mechanics or combo breaks don't exist, so even bosses can be corner carried and effortlessly dispatched. "Playing with your food" is very much the norm here. Keep in mind though that the difficulty setting does affect the enemy's attack power. Women in gas masks and tight leather can get lucky with devastating rapid punch combinations. Otherwise, I'd only worry about a game over if I'm attempting hard mode with a low-level character.  

Seriously, the brokenness is what makes the game sing. Pick a character out of a hat, and they've got tech that'll make the opposition look like an army of training dummies. Shimei Ryomou has the almighty piledriver button, a feature I would love to see in more beatemups. The best part though is her grab-range, which is content with checking that the enemy exists, never mind if they're close enough or in a state that would commonly be considered grabbable. Unchou Kan-u and Youjou Bashoku regularly lock their opponents in an infinite vortex. One of the lowkey best ideas this game has is the double jump-attack. You know how Haggar in Final Fight could switch from his drop-kick to body press in a single jump? Picture that, but astoundingly overpowered. Outside of very rare cases, living enemies can't be knocked offscreen, so all it takes is a jumping square and/or triangle to juggle them until boredom sets in. Other characters like the bow-toting Teni provide a different flavor of overpowered. Shred foes with arrow spam or spam the power move that combos into itself. There are over 20 characters to mess around with, and they all seem capable of atomizing an entire continent. It's insane.

Since combat encounters are shattered with hardly a modicum of effort, that just leaves the rest of game, which is a cacophony of loud-noises and panty-shots. Somehow, that also makes it a fine game for those nights when I'm 15% awake and uninterested in facing the immediate future. Absorbed in unbalanced gratuitous schlock, I revel in my many vices, then sleep through tomorrow as if I had literally given the day away. Sure, I'll grumble to myself about overlong and repetitive stages; but given my unwillingness to play a different game (let alone do something productive), these and other complaints are just words that flutter like butterflies lost in the fog. 

In short, I really shouldn't be playing this shit.

PlayStation Portable Look - Dungeon Maker: Hunting Grounds

Have you ever played a game that had an interesting concept that wore out its welcome after a couple of hours, but you continue to stick with it because you think something special will happen later, except it never does, so with a heart full of spite, you spend another 10 hours just trying to reach the end, only to completely fall apart and spend the next week wallowing in self-pity?

Dungeon Maker: Hunting Grounds asks way too much while offering nothing in return. If I'm spending all of my free time constructing a dungeon, then the monsters that populate it could do me a solid by actually dropping some decent goods. Wolves. Goddamned wolves. Their fangs can be used to strengthen this attack-booster called a root. I've slaughtered hundreds of packs and never saw a single tooth. What the fuck am I doing here?

Constructing a dungeon is an unbelievable investment. In order to achieve a high rating - which is apparently decided by literal monsters - its corridors must be sufficiently twisty. It makes sense. Adventurers have a better chance of getting lost and ambushed if they can't see what's ahead of them. However, as time goes on, I realized that building a monster haven is creating the underground equivalent of Four Seasons, only arranged to look like somebody's intestines. Marble walls, lavish bedrooms, grand libraries, and countless other luxuries dot what was supposed to the dankest ten-floor hellhole just outside of a defenseless village. In return for all of my time and gold, I'm treated to gobs of the most annoying creatures under the earth. What the f- nevermind. Ending every sentence with question is already annoying the piss out of me.

I'll get the one positive of combat out of my system; friendly fire is very neat. Large groups of monsters will decimate each other if one fires off a massive spell or swings their sword recklessly. This can be used to great advantage during the ninja boss fight. This so-called chief can't keep his own shadow clones from eviscerating him. I'd laugh at him if I wasn't already the bigger embarrassment for giving Dungeon Maker 23 hours of my life. When they aren't accidentally destroying each other, monsters are brought down with a relentless series of circle, triangle button combinations. Each weapon-type has unique moves, though most players are liable to get by with the sword and its AOE-like circular swing. The damage stinks, but that's because the game is far too stingy with meaningful upgrades. A new sword or axe can take hours to materialize, and the other character-building methods are exorbitant timewasters. In lieu of traditional experience points, permanent stat increases are limited to daily meals (with the ingredients provided by monsters). I'll spend an entire in-game day hacking through one floor of my dungeon while constructing the next, then go home to a whopping +1 strength and enough hit-points to fill a thimble. What a selfish fucking game. 

The worst part is that Dungeon Maker regularly undermines itself by providing portals to "Unknown dungeons". These were created by some mystery entity and are semi-randomly generated. It doesn't take long to memorize layouts and rush straight for the one consistent source of treasure in the entire game. Yeah, something I didn't mention earlier is that treasure rooms have to be built. They're expensive, must be placed in the deepest corners of the labyrinth, and obtaining the keys could require slaughtering every beastie on the entire floor. Unknown dungeons skip all of that nonsense and tend to provide better (but still shitty) gear. The irony that I'm getting more out of the dungeon that I didn't create is going to bury me.

Also, there are like three fucking songs in the entire thing, and this ain't a Cleopatra's Fortune where one track is an all-timer that's listenable for years.

I'm done.  

PlayStation Portable Look - Gladiator Begins

Inside my bathroom is a book by Roger Ebert; Four-Star Reviews 1967-2007, the perfect accompaniment to usual toilet practices. Usually, I'll read a couple reviews, acquire a molecule's worth of inspiration, and then watch it go down the drain as I shower. Though I credit (blame?) Ebert's work for convincing me to take on video game reviews, the truth is that I crave a purpose. These past couple years have exposed my work for what it is: self-serving, aggressively wordy drivel, with a meager explanation of the mechanics. I do not sell games, I sell pieces of myself, with the hope that they'll latch onto some unsuspecting reader, granting me a comfort that I might die as something more than just another pizza delivery guy. Huh. Perhaps the last website I wrote for had a point when they said to never use the word "I" in a review. 

Part of this obsession with the self is reflected in the hobby that is gaming. It's isolationist in ways that we as a society don't confront often enough. In a movie, we're witnesses to humans - or animals with human voices - experiencing emotions and coming up with ideas. Games, or at least the ones I regularly write about, make us the sole participant. There's little room for interpretation when we're the catalyst of every possible event. Even narrative-driven games hinge on our decisions and are left incomplete if we lose interest in playing them. This is not to say that interactive works are in anyway lesser than passive works, but I contend that something is eventually lost when a lot of time is spent with games. We begin to lose sight of a person's worth; like an RPG character that isn't worth investing in because we know they'll die after 10 or 15 hours. Ultimately, the game mechanics usurp whatever else the game was trying to do, and we're just mashing objects together until the numbers stop rising. 

That essence is what has carried me through Gladiator Begins for the better part of a week. In the colosseum, where the air reeks of blood, combatants vie for glory and freedom. Bodies collide until the flesh rends, bones break, and organs cease to function. After a night's rest, they do it all again. Once you've decided on your player-character's name, build, and stats; they'll be sold off to Magerius. He runs a ludi gladiatorii where slaves are trained to become combatants, though most of the "training" amounts to being told which end of the sword is the pointy one. Still, it's not a terrible tutorial, since the sessions are staggered over the course of a few days. You'll be taught the button-pressing basics, participate in a single show at the nearby colosseum, then head back to school to learn something slightly more advanced. 

One aspect of the combat that stood out to me is that while gladiators can strike at the head, legs, and either the right or left arm; the dedicated "attack torso" button doesn't exist. Also, the specific body part you're aiming for is not often the one that'll actually get struck. This is important because the torso is the only part of the body that can't be covered by armor. Much like a certain Taito arcade game - which you've already guessed the name of - the results of a battle are determined by who finds or creates an opening, then continually slashes at it until their opponent can't fight any longer. An unhelmeted head is the most vulnerable, but the chances of landing a direct hit upon it are left up to a multitude of factors. Two warriors in constant movement are far more liable to hit an outstretched limb or the weapon it's carrying. Damage done to the torso is often incidental, a side-effect of blades dancing through the air as bodies constantly twist and contort. If your intention is winning, then all of your focus must be on the opponent. Watch how they move, pay attention to the position they're in after every attack, and vary your offense until a weakness is discovered. A heavily armored adversary might have a weak grip. Another could be an axe-twirling whirlwind but forget to protect his legs. 

Success in the Colosseum also depends on your fighting style. At first, the choices seem pretty limited, and it's difficult to get excited about two variations of sword & board, dual-wielding, or fisticuffs. As the gladiator levels up their styles, new techniques are unlocked. These go a long way towards defining one's identity, provided they have enough endurance to make use of them. Challenging unique opponents can also lead to the acquisition of new basic attacks. Medeia has a rather eclectic array of moves for dual wielders. In time, I settled on a style that combines multiple spinning moves with a double-slash that looks like hedge-clippers. My dueling strategy is to push the opponent against the fence, bully them with a series of limb-targeting attacks, then alternate between the legs and neck. Once their helmet is knocked off, scissor-strikes will eliminate hapless warriors in seconds. Range is sometimes an issue, but I found that if I time my attacks as they're recovering from hitting the fence, then their live is forfeit. However, if I get parried, surrounded, or beaten to that first strike, then I'm probably in for a bad time. 

Learning how to play defense just might be the hardest part of the game. It starts simple. Holding the R button puts the player-character in a defensive state, allowing them to block or dodge attacks with a high frequency. Parrying is performed by holding R and tapping L. The window is generous enough, multiple attacks can be parried at once, and it doesn't seem to matter if the player is even facing them. The troubles start when enemies regularly perform strong attacks. They're slow, but also impossible to parry. Multiple techniques - some of which are also unparryable - vary in speed, so have fun trying to react to them. On the slim possibility that a dedicated player will memorize every move, they can still get blindsided by a long string of uninterruptable techniques, courtesy of the AI putting their thumb on the scale. Normally, infinite endurance is a special ability that's only available to gladiators who have won over the crowd with a series of spectacular attacks and kills. It's also available only once a match. I can deal with cheating AI, but parries existing in a weird space where they're both required and a burden is really messing with me. Worst of all is when I successfully parry but then perform a second one that devours my counterattack chances. 

If the thought of playing optimally just to see another day of enslavement fills you with dread, then you'll be happy to learn that Gladiator Begins is more a numbers game than anything else. Among the spoils of your last victory is the opposition's leftover equipment. If there's a specific weapon or armor piece that you've fallen in love with, then take it the nearby blacksmith and start tinkering. Explain how this system works would bore us both into an early grave, so my advice is to accumulate junk until it piles into a mountain, then bash them together until those +1s, +2s, and +3s create a beautiful work of art. The purpose of this entire bloody ordeal is to craft a piece that boasts incredible attack and defense yet is still weighty enough that it won't slide off of your body or out of your hand, when the pendulum swings the enemy's way. Also, that ideal armament of destruction should have several dozen points in strength, endurance, or vitality. One last essential detail is that equipment can't be too heavy. The gladiator's speed decreases as their weight limit approaches. 

Some guy in the back just asked if this is all just a big fucking time sink. Yes, it is. Unlike life, tinkerers aren't cheap. Players who are serious about creating a half-decent sword or spear will spend millions, and that's just one part of a seven-piece set. Magerius also takes a substantial cut of the winnings, and it'll take more than a month (in-game time) to pay off his debt. I, a person accustomed to serving masters who don't actually exist, have already spent ludicrous hours sifting through menus in the hopes of causing a head-on collision between two unicorns. By unicorns, I'm referring to rare pieces of equipment that share the same set of glyphs and attribute-boosts, making them incredible crafting material, but you might've already figured that out. The thrill of battle and desire to see blood spill onto the sand have long disappeared. All my emotions - even the most twisted - are replaced with numbers, numbers that'll cease to exist the instant I publish this review. 

Pictured: Two unicorns

There is still more to Gladiator Begins that I've glossed over. As the days pass, various patricians will take an interest in the player-character. Completing special matches for them deepens bonds and leads to one of the four storylines. Once the bonding story is concluded, players are directed towards a meeting with Commodus. This is the endgame. Stay by Commodus' side and contribute to Rome's downfall, leave to go hang with the bestie you made a storyline ago, or finish paying off that debt and get as far away from the Colosseum as possible. First-time players may want to postpone that meeting to ensure their equipment and attributes are reasonable, as a few of the final battles are oddly over-tuned. In any case, these stories - while interesting - make up a shrinking portion of Gladiator Begins. Thanks to the start button, skipping previously viewed scenes is instantaneous. Sometimes I like to mash X through them. Characters usually just say "Oh" "Ah" or "Oy" when they speak. Mashing through their dialogue causes them to sound like something out of Banjo Kazooie. It's a small treat I give to myself. 

Oh, and don't give too much thought on how many days the gladiator will spend as a slave. Hard mode does limit the number of days to 40, but that as well as all subsequent difficulties must adhere by New Game+ rules. In other words, if you're something between a maniac and an absolute sicko, you'll enter Hard Mode with godlike equipment that trivializes most everything. I've read that Despair Mode is where the real challenge lies, but I'm not so enamored by this game that I'd actually consider it. 

Truly, there is quite a bit I enjoy about Gladiator Begins. It's clunky in all ways delicious. Battles have an inherent clumsiness to them, as combatants regularly stumble over armaments scattered across the sand. Each duel is a series of interactions that are simultaneously precise and unlucky. This, like so many of Acquire's other games, captures what I loved the most about the PlayStation 2 era. The Grand Theft Auto trilogy as well as Metal Gear Solid 2 & 3 were fine AAA distractions, but what really stoked my coals were all the games that hover in Metacritic's 50-60 sphere. At its best, this game is a mess of mangled bodies and dizzying numbers. That's my shit!

In the end though, it seems like all I've done is retreat further into the abyss. This is not what I would call a sharable experience. The typically ruddy PSP visuals and framerate won't impress anyone who doesn't already treat the 6th generation like a second home. There's nothing pretty about staring at menus with half-glazed eyes for several hours either. I might have even cheapened the experience of life a little by giving so much of my time of this thing, but... oh well. I chose the path of a games-writer, knowing full well it ends in failure, just to give myself legitimacy. 

Shit. It's all pretty shit.

I should've learned how to draw a nice pair of breasts instead.

Playstation 2 Look - Ultraman

Not too long ago, I covered Hissatsu! on the Sega Saturn, a side-scroller that resides in "licensed game hell". Okay, maybe it's not curdling in the lava-filled bowels alongside the worst of the worst, but it's still in a place I'd prefer to avoid. Anyway, I'm dedicating this article to three titles that deserve a place in licensed game heaven. Going by the header image, you'd assume that at least one of them is Ultraman, and you'd be right. Released in 2004, this cinematic brawler revisits the series that started it all. Taking control of the very first Ultras, players relive classic moments from the 1966 TV series. Challenge Bemular, Alien Boltan, and twenty other Kaiju in vicious 1v1 (or 1v2) battles. More fighting action awaits in Ultraman Fighting Evolution 3. Legendary heroes and villains from across the Ultra universe battle it out across the standard array of arcade, versus, and mission modes. Last but not least is Ultraman Nexus, the customary tie-in with the 2004 TV series. It's another fighter, one with a different style and feel to it than either of its compatriots, but still very ultra.

What does it mean to be ultra? That's a question I had never considered before. Ultraman video games have been around since the MSX and Famicom Disk System, yet none save Towards the Future (SNES) ever reached the west. When I played TTF and wrote it off as a bad Street Fighter 2 knockoff, the thought that it wasn't trying to be SF2 never crossed my mind. The Ultraman franchise is nothing if not committed to its own ethos. Its games embrace absurdity by adapting all the parts that "cooler" video games would try to hide. If a fight looks it's just two actors in rubber costumes throwing goofy punches and rolling around, then it's exactly what the developers were going for. An Ultraman game that played like a Tekken or Virtua Fighter might sound neat, but it wouldn't be authentic. The authenticity is what matters most. The games I'm about to spend the day discussed are lifted to heaven by not just being quality products, but also by being true to themselves.  

Ultraman (2004)

Upon starting this, you'll quickly notice that most of the game modes are hidden behind a wall of question marks, leaving just Story, 2P Versus, and Options available from the outset. Before trying out the Story mode, you might want to change the difficulty, as the default setting is the hardest. The Story combines still-frames from the TV series, in-game cinematics, and ends with climactic kaiju encounter. Besides a couple sequences that feature the Jet VTOL blasting kaiju with missiles or Hayata firing a laser pistol, this mode is all about Ultraman. You have three minutes to wear down the opponent while building up power for legendary techniques, such as the Ultra Beam or Ultra Slash. 

While there's no tutorial, controlling Ultraman isn't difficult at all. Rapidly tap the square button to perform a punch & chop combo. Kicks are performed with the X button. While there isn't a wide array of combinations, following up a series of jabs with a powerful drop-kick is always fun. Circle is the all-purpose button that provides defensive and offensive functions. For example, if the Kaiju is about to perform a breath or laser attack and the player hits the button fast enough, then our hero will create a barrier that blocks the blast. Well-timed circle presses can also grab adversaries out of their melee attacks, leaving them disoriented or sprawled out on the ground. Actions tend to be context-sensitive and are extremely rewarding if Ultraman is in the right position. Grab a kaiju by their tail to unleash a tremendous giant swing. 

Like a good pro-wrestling match, drama is the most important part of Ultraman. It's not enough to rush straight at the enemy and attempt to slap them to death. Ultra's techniques are governed by a power meter. Any counters or special actions (like the giant swing) will fill the meter much faster than basic strikes. This means that kaiju must be allowed opportunities to attack. Obviously, taking damage is going to make things harder on the player. Successful hits drain time, and the game ends after three minutes are depleted. There is a comeback mechanic though. When Ultraman's timer is in the red, the tech meter fills at a faster rate. True to the TV series, a lot of fights will come down to the wire. Effectively balancing offense and defense is essential, as it puts the player in a better position to eke out a victory, no matter how dire the straits may be. This game's fighting system is extremely solid. It makes the most of a limited move-set by keeping each encounter close and dynamic. The swings in momentum will take time to adjust to, but it's hard not to love that rush when everything clicks into place.

The game also does a great job of giving each kaiju its own identity. Antlar spends most of the fight burrowing through the ground in the hopes of landing a sneaky attack. Overly aggressive players might get punished by Alien Boltan II's tendency to split into tinier versions of itself. The feathers of Geronimon are a constant nuisance, so pulling them straight from the monster's back could save Ultraman some trouble. Then there's Zetton, the "final boss" of Story Mode, whose talent for teleportation leads to a very unique encounter. Some foes have unique death animations depending on the tech used to finish them, which is always a treat to see. 

A successful run through Story Mode will unlock Monster World. Here, players choose one of the unlocked kaiju and attempt to win a short series of fights, culminating in an encounter with the Man himself. This is very much the equivalent of smashing action figures against one another, with the winner often being whomever has the best, most spammable attack. The extent of the strategy involves meter management, and learning the best times to perform a meter-replenishing taunt (X button). Just one playthrough is enough to unlock the next mode, but I still revisit occasionally to try out different kaiju. This isn't deep nor balanced, but it's fun.

You can even be Pigmon (it dies in a single hit).

The next couple modes are mostly just cute extras. Monster Grave allows players to check out the stats of various kaiju, but only after they've been defeated in Story Mode. Violence Rock is a bit like shot put. Red King, the rock expert, must hurl a large stone as far as possible. There's a "sweet spot" that'll take several attempts to discover, but doing so is necessary to achieve the world record. You'll play this to unlock the next set of features, and potentially never return. Still, the failure animations are fun to see.

Eventually, the main menu will make mention of the NEW Story Mode. This alternative route features several new Kaiju battles, including one with the aptly named Pester. I don't get this weird bulky bat-thing, but whatever. More battles are always nice to have. Also, this might be a good time to try for the non-canon ending. Beating Zetton without the Ultra Beam is one of the requirements for "Ultraman Returns" mode. If you can't seem to unlock it even after doing everything else, then you might have to quit the game and "return" to it later (that's seriously how it worked for me). This leads to even more Kaiju, with the added caveat that players will have to start from the beginning if Ultraman is defeated by any of them. 

Survival Mode is the final unlock. Here, players can choose from four Ultramen. Then they're given the usual three minutes to defeat as many monsters as possible. Consider this the final test. Meter is very easy to come by, but getting hurt will drain it. The basic idea is to land just enough attacks on a Kaiju so that the Ultra Beam will finish it off, conserving precious seconds for the next bout. Spacing and positioning matter a lot here, so there's plenty of optimization for the professional Ultras out there. 

All in all, this is just a wonderful tribute game. I love how weighty every action feels, and the fights still look fantastic over 20 years later. High impact moves are always thrilling to land. This just might be the ultimate evolution of earlier titles like Towards the Future; a cinematic action-packed extravaganza with just the right amount of depth. A must-play for tokusatsu fans.

Game Boy Color Look - Kid Icarus: Of Myths and Monsters DX

Kid Icarus: Of Myths and Monsters has an introduction so simple that every attempt at putting it to words has caused intense mental anguish. Angel Land needs a hero. Pit answered the call. Palutena is all like "Okay, cool. Let's start with a simple training exercise." She then orders the kid to seek out the three legendary treasures. What follows is typical hero-in-training stuff. Pit hops and sometimes hovers through a series of stages. Hounding his every other step is a multitude of creeps that crawl, fly, or spit some manner of projectile. Each land's 4th and final stage is a labyrinth that's explored Zelda 1-style. While all of this is happening, Pit must build up his strength. Collect hearts to buy essential items. Defeat foes to increase maximum health. Follow clues and investigate suspicious walls to uncover valuable weapon upgrades.

There's a pretty good chance that you've already played this game, and I'm not just saying that because it's 35 years old. The handheld edition of Kid Icarus was formed from the same clay as the NES original. However, this is not a replica. Labyrinths, for example, no longer house warriors who'll help Pit with the next boss if he frees them from their stone prison. The layouts of each stage, as well as the bosses themselves, are quite different. Another aspect worth mentioning is the aspect ratio. The Game Boy's smaller screen size means there's quite a bit more scrolling, even in the vertical stages that "wraparound", as if the kid was circling an invisible tower. I know it's done merely to compensate for the limited hardware, but I actually really like this change. The additional scrolling creates a more adventurous spirit, as secrets are less liable to be out in semi-plain sight.  

What really sets the Game Boy title apart from its predecessor is that it isn't a piece of shit. Okay, that's rude, I apologize.... psych! Kid Icarus on the NES can swim in a dumpster fire. Nothing good has ever come from spending nearly 2/3rds of a game in vertical stages where everything below the protag is a bottomless abyss. Pit also moves like he embraced inevitability ages ago. I mean, sure. Bad controls weren't exactly uncommon in 1986, but combining them with a fail-state that follows like a shadow? Sheesh. Alright. I think the moment has passed. Way back in the day, I rented Kid Icarus NES only to never see past the second stage. Outright removing the chance of instant death turns Kid Icarus GB into an enjoyable romp. I also really appreciate the crisp controls and ability to hover. It's extremely limited, but quite optional, so every successful use creates a sense of satisfaction. 

If you're the sort of gamer who prefers being on the edge of controller-cracking mania, then I'm afraid you'll have to pass on Myths and Monsters. There's one instance of potential frustration; a surprisingly tanky first boss. Otherwise, staying healthy and happy isn't too hard. If you still want a taste of suffering, there's always the option to refrain from saving your progress. Dying causes Pit to give up one of his two credits. If you're saving after every completed stage, then getting kicked back to the title screen is no big thing. If you prefer setbacks, then hey... have fun. These and a handful of other self-imposed challenges help give the game some replay value, though I'd sincerely question anyone who attempts a pacifist run. Unlocking even a microbe of Pit's full potential requires some killing. Bosses are only going to get exponentially tankier if one forgoes the weapon upgrades.

Oh, I guess a word needs to be said about this DX port. It's a romhack that adds a splash of color as well as a small suite of features. Pretty nice, I think. Give it a look, stick to the unaltered original, whichever you prefer; just as long as you make time for the game. Kid Icarus: Of Myths and Monsters makes good on the ideas present in the original. Solid stuff from Nintendo R&D 1.

Playstation 2 - Look at Silent Hill 3

Today's look is at...nothing really.

I've decided against a Silent Hill 3 review. Writing anything half-decent about it is far beyond my pay grade. I did upload a bunch of screenshots to my other blog. You're welcome to check them out (just be aware of spoilers).

Saturn Look - Cyber Doll

In the early 21st century, a scientist by the name of Maria Rylius created a cure for AIDS. Almost as if it was personally insulted, the planet responded with a new disease. MLD, or Muscle Loosening Disease, causes a person's muscles to rapidly deteriorate until there's nothing left of them. This catastrophe, surely a sign that the human experiment was coming to an end, was averted by Maria. By replacing infected flesh and organs with cybernetic implants, one's life could be prolonged for... the rest of time. That Rylius, I tell you what. In just a few short years, she managed to cure AIDS, MLD, and death. Of course, throwing out nature's lifecycle like a proverbial baby with the bathwater has created new problems. World Leaders were deposed for even suggesting that a patient's cybernetic implants - their immortality - should be replaced with flesh once they've recovered from MLD. As for Maria, she passed away shortly after ushering in the cyborg revolution, though her brain would live on in the supercomputer MARIA. 

In the years that followed, nearly half of Earth's population had become cyborgs. MARIA was placed in Heaven's Tower, a spire in the heart of ZERO-City that essentially became the new world's government. Not long after, a new catastrophic had struck, this time affecting those outfitted with cybernetics. Something infected their mechanical bodies, turning them into "Dark Visitors". This new epidemic was the most violent yet, as DVs were essentially psycho killers with indestructible bodies. Honestly, I'm not at all surprised by this turn of events. A cyborg's heart is actually a sentient creature, the result of countless bio-engineering experiments. Think about it. In order to avert mankind's destruction, Rylius created a living organism that would have to spend an eternity imprisoned inside of a human body. Oh, and this prisoner is responsible for all of the body's functions. I'm not well-versed in themes, metaphors, and the like, but it isn't too hard to see that our tendency to subjugate others in order to maintain the illusion of society would lead to this. If a creature that was forced to be my beating heart decided to revolt and take control, then who am I to say, "Wait that can't be right."? 

Pictured: Your heart. Take good care of it!

Nevertheless, something had to be done about Dark Visitors. This is where you come in, Debugger. You represent the de facto police force of Heaven's Tower. Hunt down the DVs, deal with anyone that would threaten MARIA's dominance, and make a token effort to protect the innocent. No doubt the corporations sponsoring your advanced cyborg body would benefit from good PR. 

Nearly 30 years after its original Japan-only release, Cyber Doll for the Sega Saturn received a fan-translation. This is a game that has fascinated me for quite some time. I've owned a copy since 2004. In fact, next to Riglord Saga 2 and Wachenröder, it's one of the few Saturn games I still have a physical copy of. Fingers crossed those two get fan-translated eventually. Anyway, since my first attempt at a playthrough didn't make it past the third mission, I've spent the past couple weeks settling unfinished business. Now that it's all over, I'm left feeling somewhat dissatisfied. Yes, this game occupying some corner of my mind for over two decades has likely contributed to a level of hype that'd be impossible to satiate, but there's more to it than that. Of course, this being a review, I can't just tell you what it is right now. Stew in the suspense for a bit while I rattle on about what makes this RPG an RPG.

After deciding on the Debugger's name and viewing a couple story scenes, you'll be teleported into a district of ZERO-City called the Pleasure-AREA, known for its many bars and clubs. Your mission is to investigate a series of killings and hunt down the DV responsible. It might not seem like it at the moment, but each AREA of Cyber Doll is a dungeon. The first and most important thing to do is find the man with wires in his head having a smoke. He saves progress. Next, look for the nearby building with a neon sign that says Medic. Recovering from life-threatening injuries requires slightly more than a nap. Afterwards, head southeast to reach the weapon and item shops. Get used to seeing the proprietors within each of these three buildings, as they'll show up in every area/dungeon for the remainder of your cyberpunk adventure, plying their services even when random encounters are just a few steps away.

Combat is handled similarly to a scaled-back Front Mission. On the left side is the protagonist. His opposition, of which there is never more than two, is on the right. Battles are turn-based, and yours is often spent firing at the enemy with one of three types of guns. Pistols, semi-automatic rifles, and laser cannons can be aimed at any of the enemy's five body parts. Aim for the arms to reduce their offensive capabilities. Target legs to prevent them from moving. In fact, if you know which limbs to destroy, you can leave an enemy without the means to attack, rendering them helpless for the remainder of the battle. Keep in mind however that some cyborgs have weapons attached their heads or bodies, so they might be able to maintain an offensive, just as long as they're within the range that they're weaponry is suited for. In any case, destroying their heads or bodies will end the battle. 

Flamethrowers, SMGs, and rockets deal what can be consider random damage. Once fired, they'll hit various parts of the cyborg. With any luck, the same part will be hit multiple times at once, instantly destroying it. Unfortunate Debuggers might just miss their opposition entirely. To further dissuade players from relying too heavily on randomized damage, Cyber Doll ties stat-building to the acquisition of enemy parts. When a battle has ended, any body parts left undestroyed have a chance to drop. Players can then visit the medic to swap these parts out or sell them like unwanted junk. During battle, the Search command details every part an enemy cyborg is capable of dropping. It's simultaneously a treat and a nuisance meeting an unknown enemy and discovering they have a full suite of new parts to acquire. It'll take several fights to obtain every part, and it's not guaranteed that what they drop will be better than what's already equipped. Still, I love the rush of endorphins whenever I come across a new part that improves every stat (even if it's just a +1).

Shotguns, miniguns, and missiles trade away surgical strikes for all-encompassing destruction. Along with hitting every part at once, these weapons tend to do the most damage. By the mid-to-endgame, you're liable to realize that a good minigun will simplify just about every random encounter. Combat is the most prevalent element of Cyber Doll, but it's not very deep. There is, especially at first, a real danger that enemies will target the Debugger's squishy head, ending his career in an instant. That starts to go away after you've swapped that worthless default brain out for something better. Also, money is never hard to come by, so there's little preventing you from buying a complete stock of repair-kits and other essentials. Juggling what looks like five healthbars sounds complicated, until you open up the inventory to grab one of your 99 AllRepair50s. Also, don't forget to try the S-ARMs on tough enemies. These often-purchasable items can inflict heavy debuffs.   

This is also one of those RPGs where speed rules everything. The way stats are distributed gives one the impression that they should emphasize attack over defense or - No. You'll definitely want HP and defense at the beginning of the game, but speed will soon overtake both as the most important stat. Speed effects the Debugger's chances of getting multiple turns in a row. It also increases evasion. Avoided damage means that turns aren't spent on recovery items. Most convenient of all is the fact that speed determines whether or not you need to fight a random encounter. Invest in that stat for long enough, and you'll be running through dungeons completely unbothered by slowpoke cyborgs. This is also a huge boon if you're trying to farm high-level enemies, as the chaff can be ignored with a single button-press. 

Particularly troublesome foes are either fought under specific circumstances or require the use of S-ARMs. I'd call them bosses, but I'm not sure if Cyber Doll wants me to treat them as such. Missions in this RPG function as episodes of a TV series. There is a set location where the events of the story take place, as well as multiple recurring characters. More to the point, villains tend to show up as "unwinnable" battles. I have to use quotes here, because while some unwinnables are straight-up beatdowns from an invincible foe, others have both sides trading attacks for a number of rounds. It's all part of the story I suppose but in gameplay terms, it often leads to anticlimactic encounters. There are set pieces that work extremely well at creating tension and drama. In an abandoned shopping mall, the protagonist is stalked by a killer cyborg who shoots at him with a high-powered sniper rifle before rushing in with the finishing blow. Catching glimpses of this guy shrouded in darkness while exploring the mall is scary as hell. This is one of the best parts of the game. Its atmosphere, storytelling, and game mechanics all working as one to deliver something unforgettable. I wish there were more events like this towards the end of the game. Instead, there's a second Debugger who ends up carrying the protag through numerous fights. It begins to feel like nothing I'm doing actually matters. That... that might be intentional, and acceptance is the hardest part.

I'll also point out that far too much of the game is spent in the Pleasure and Downtown AREAs. Asset use is expected in an RPG, but revisiting the same dungeons causes several missions to blur together. It isn't until the 12th mission that something interesting happens, and it's a timed mission where the protag has 25 minutes to dispose of 25 bombs located throughout the district. This was, and I almost hate to say it, one of the other highlights of the game. Gathering clues, hunting down the bombers, engaging in some simplistic hot & cold exploration; these were all -ings that I appreciated. Without this and a handful of other reprieves, Cyber Doll wouldn't be much more than exchanging body parts for stat-increases. I'm not shallow enough to enjoy that for 25 hours. Maybe 20 hours. 

In the end, this was still a worthwhile experience. Yasushi Nirasawa's designs are always a treat to see. Though it has its problems, the battle system functions quite well. Picking apart an enemy cyborg's weaponry from a distance or getting in close to shred them to scrap is pretty fun. I shouldn't say this aloud, but finishing helpless cyborgs off with a series of punches (usually a last resort weapon) feels deliciously sadistic. Plus, it's just nice to see what an alternate cyberpunk future would be like. Getting my heart replaced with a xenomorph is pretty messed up, but still cooler than data centers that produce pictures of zombified breakfast burritos.