2026 Special - Rabi-Ribi

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PC Engine CD Look - Seirei Senshi Spriggan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sega Genesis Look - Phantasy Star 3

Palma's destruction marked a dramatic turning point for the Phantasy Star universe. Dark Force, no longer confined to the Algo System, could spread its evil influence through every corner of the galaxy. Just the slightest hint of its presence was enough to spark conflicts that'd last centuries. Not long after the Palmaians escaped their annihilated planet, Dark Force had managed to infiltrate their ships, destroying them from within. Aboard the Alisa III, a couple of great heroes managed to defeat the embodiment of darkness, sealing it in a sunken temple with a sword that only their descendants were capable of lifting. Yet, as it's been drilled into our heads for many an RPG, all seals were made to be broken. A war between the Layans and Orakioans had decimated not just society but almost all knowledge of Alisa III and Dark Force. A thousand years have passed, and all that remains is the bitter hatred. Would you be at all surprised if I told you that a mysterious woman's appearance and subsequent kidnapping was part of a carefully orchestrated series of events that'd lead to Dark Force's revival? Well, maybe a little. Trying to cram a millennium's worth of lore into a game that received neither time nor resources is bound to cause confusion. 

Even after all these years, I'm still caught in the space between respecting Phantasy Star 3's unrealized ambition and wanting to poke fun at its incomparable weirdness. The development team swung for the fences with a foam bat. The Alisa III makes an admirable attempt of resembling a habitable colony ship. It's composed of seven regions, all with their own implied history. Aquatica and Frigidia's freezing climates are the result of climate stations falling into disrepair. Multiple airstrips indicate that air travel was once common, likely via Wren-type androids. Of course, the Wren you take in as a companion is the only one that survived the wars. Much of the spaceship is dilapidated; its connecting corridors on the verge of crumbling to pieces. Royalty dresses in abundance, but that's only because the fancy clothes are some of the only pre-war stuffs that survived. Houses are made of wood or stone, and everyone locks their doors with plain metal keys. At one time, Palma's technology was so advanced that it could successfully evacuate millions of its inhabitants in minutes. Nowadays, people can't even get paint for their homes. There are plenty of beds at least. 

To Sword of Vermilion's credit, quite a bit of work was put towards making towns feel like actual livable places. Unless the plot called for it, homes were never left abandoned, and businesses were sometimes occupied by more than just merchants. I've never gotten the urge to do a headcount, but I wouldn't be surprised if one restaurant in this game housed more people than three generations' worth of Phantasy Star 3. More to the point, if it isn't Dark Force or a collision course with the sun, Alisa III is doomed by its complete inability to repopulate. After the initial somewhat-populated set of towns, don't be surprised to find 2 to 0 citizens wandering about. Luckily for players, the single non-shopkeeper milling about usually says exactly what needs to be done to further the story. Good thing too, because I can't imagine anyone would chance retracing their steps just to find another NPC to get information from. Pretty much everything I mentioned in the first paragraph is related to players in the game's final hours by the five old men of exposition.

There is not a single dungeon in Phantasy Star 3 that's larger than two floors. Perhaps it makes sense that the Alisa III would have its functions placed in convenient locations. Nobody is climbing 10 flights of stairs and walking through countless mazes to adjust the weather. Still, I figure most experienced RPG goers are going to notice just how artificial these labyrinths can get. The late game especially plays home to some copy-pasted layouts with a few broken floor tiles. The developers had time to do the bare minimum, which is to prevent the player from walking straight to their destination, and little else. The most "complex" dungeon is where Laia obtains her teleportation pendant. It's a series of small rooms connected by many staircases, almost like a teleporter dungeon. The only problem is that it has maybe one fork. I've been through that damn place four times and always guessed right, so it might not be a fork at all. Well, whatever. 

The simplistic dungeons are paired with strategically nonexistent battles. In my very first playthrough, I spent more time trying to figure out why combat wouldn't start than ever issuing orders. Yeah, I probably should've guessed that the thing that looks like a turnkey would begin a turn. Once that obstacle was finally hurdled, all I had to for the vast majority of the adventure was tell everyone to fight. Grinding is required to get anywhere, yet it's also enough to overcome everything just shy of Dark Force. The final boss has a couple of gimmicks. Destroy his hands to reduce damage output and healing capability. Afterwards, all he does is spam an ice tech that hits everyone. Counteract it with the party-wide heal tech. That's it. None of the other bosses put up much of a fight. Oddly enough, the most stress-inducing random encounter is a dinosaur that occasionally appears in Aridia during the third generation. It has an instant death attack: the only one in the entire game. 

I ran into a pair of these dinosaurs, and they killed 3 of my 4 characters in two rounds. WTF

If you're intent on cramming most of the Phantasy Star 3 experience into a single playthrough, then I suggest marrying Maia. Ayn's story is the closest the game gets to being interesting, as his family is forced to escape their kingdom after a robot invasion. Nial, on the other hand, proceeds directly to Elysium to collect the sub-parts for Wren, setting up the "recruit Laia and obtain her pendant" section. I'm pretty sure that neither Nial nor his offspring ever have a reason to visit Draconia. At least with Ayn you'll have something to do in all seven worlds. None of the possible routes diverge as heavily, leaving the generation system very half-baked. Having multiple main characters is neat, but hammering through several hours of random encounters to see slightly different endings is ridiculous. 

Also, there's no reasonable explanation for Terminus, the game's final world. Clearly, the developers had plans. Terminus is a whole mass of land, sea, forest, and mountains. However, there's nothing to do except the final dungeon. Well, I did see a cave in my last playthrough, but I was already past the "I just want to be done with this mess." mark. The finale is almost hilariously truncated when compared to the likes of Phantasy Star 2. Collecting the Nei weapons required surviving some of the toughest dungeons of the 16-bit RPG era. How can I possibly sum up the PS3's Nei weapon hunt? Oh, I can just use a picture.

In spite of everything working against it, I can't hate this game. It's so ambitious, unfinished, and weird that I feel like it's a goal I have to strive for. Leaving behind a legacy of unanswerable questions sounds pretty awesome. Also, uninteresting as it tends to be, I still kind-of appreciate that it has none of PS2's pain. Plus... I'm kind of Mieu fanboy. Besides creating a WWE 2k20 tag team with her and Miun, I must've spent a great many hours playing a Mieu in Phantasy Star Online 2. Toyo Ozaki - the character designed for PS3 - also created a lot of artwork that fleshed out the cast. It's non-canon, but still fun to check out. 

I think that's everything... hopefully. 

Super Nintendo Look - Space Megaforce

For as long as I've breathed Central Florida's miserable air, I've claimed that playing shmups is like undertaking the 36 Chambers of Shaolin. Only once the mightiest challenges are overcome can one discover Zen, finding their place among the stars (and neon-colored kill-globules). Well, probably, I can't remember exactly what was said. Sometimes I wonder if these words just spring from my fingertips in a vain effort to connect with the hardcore STG community- wait! It was The Zone, not Zen! No idea how those two got mixed up. You see, The Zone is great because it doesn't require years of training or thrusting hands into hot coals, it is a feeling that erupts from within the soul and envelops both player and game. You've no doubt experienced it many times before, where your every move is perfect, and the dance with death turns from a slow waltz to the steamiest bump & grind. Part of the reason I never got good at shmups was because I was always chasing that zone high. If I'm Earth's last hope at stopping an alien invasion, then that's just how I'm going to play. That means don't practice, ignore the strategies, and hope for the best. It goes without saying that my biggest successes are often flukes, like a Dodonpachi 1-ALL that I stumbled into eons back. That's The Zone working as intended; turning zeroes into heroes for a brief moment.

Super Aleste, or Space MegaForce if you prefer the NA title, is one shmup that I'm still struggling to connect with. It has an odd rhythm to it, a wavelength that's almost hostile to someone who treats shmups as just another whim. On the surface, this Super Famicom blaster is exponentially more approachable than the genre often allows. Extends are common, any contact isn't instant death as long as the ship is sufficiently powered up, and a number of weapons eliminate enemy bullets. However, for reasons that only make sense to sickos, I attempted to jump straight to the aptly named "Hyper" and "Insane" difficulties. They don't lead to the Zone. There is only pain, torment, suffering, yadda yadda and so on. 

So, let's for now move back to the beginning: the default level of difficulty. Don't worry about getting a "lesser" experience here. You're not getting locked out of any content for starting on Easy. Anyway, grab a comfy chair, because this is going to be a fairly long ride. Most of the 12 areas are six-minute-long epics that are packed to bursting with ideas, all of them great. Compile, whose track record is already impeccable, really outdid themselves here. Alongside the astonishing variety of locales to shoot through is a huge selection of weapons, all with alternate firing modes. Don't bother looking for slowdown either, as this is one of like... two (?) Super Famicom shmups that never so much as coughs when the screen becomes flooded with intensity. It's easy to see why Space MegaForce is highly regarded.

Still, with eight weapons to choose from, I imagine there's someone who'll be overcome with decision paralysis. New weapons are flying in every few seconds, tempting anyone who hasn't yet adjusted to their newfound toy. If it's any help, I tend to value weapons that provide both offense and defense. The default cannon can spit bullets in any number of angles, but it doesn't have any bullet-canceling properties. Weapon 3 provides orbiting spheres that catch enemy fire. It's certainly useful, but players hoping to tackle the harder settings will need something more specialized. The charged shot (#6) fires up to four screen-clearing lasers, provided one lives long enough to charge it. I suppose it isn't too surprising that the most powerful weapon has the highest learning curve. If you can master it, then perhaps you can conquer the Hyper & Insane difficulties.

The first few areas set the stage for what's to come. Super Aleste is uniquely claustrophobic. Walls are everywhere, creating a sense of containment akin to the likes of R-Type. However, what sets this apart is that touching a wall is never death. Press against it all you like, get a feel for its surface, adjust to how the ship reacts. It's a rare boon, so enjoy it while you can. Practice using weapons that can get into all those nooks and crannies, because Compile will fit enemies wherever they please. Popcorn ships, particularly those that fly in a line formation, tend to ignore walls. Try to eliminate their source as soon as possible. Area 2, besides being a Mode 7 showcase, is known for introducing one of the other scenarios by which it challenges players. As your ship gets close to the ship, its turrets attack from multiple angles, and they don't fire mere bullets either. Pick a direction or location, and danger is guaranteed to spew forth from it. It won't be long before the realization takes hold that memorization is necessity for survival.

Area 5 is when the walls start closing in, and players are forced to contend with unreasonable circumstances. It also provides ample evidence that the smallest enemy can create the most trouble. Little rolling guys take a surprising amount of damage, rain down from above, and pelt the screen with projectiles. They're always where you don't want them to be, and they have friends. Navigating rooms full of death will dispel any illusions that the Easy setting is actually... well... easy. This game is pretty generous with the screen-clearing bombs, and players are still likely to exhaust most of their stock. There's hardly a second of downtime in these six-minute epics. Like I said, each stage is packed to bursting with ideas, and several of them are designed to induce terror.

Just because you can't crash into walls doesn't mean you can't get crushed by them.

I won't lie. On my "Normal" difficulty playthrough, I spent parts of areas 8 & 10 huddled into a corner and hoping for a microsecond's respite. Both my momentum and mojo had evaporated. What makes Area 8 such a nightmare is that the walls tend to explode when shot. This causes ship-shredding shrapnel to fly every which way. This is Compile teaching players, in its own special way, that choosing the wrong weapon might as well be pressing the self-destruct button. Seriously though, why they do wait until someone is 3/4ths of the way through their game before saying "This is how you're supposed to play it."? Revamping one's entire strategy during a pitched battle isn't always feasible. New weapons are always flying in. If it's something you don't need, then it's just another object to dodge. Throw it on the pile with the lasers, shrapnel, enemies flying in from multiple angles, etc. This is likely one of the reasons why I struggle to connect with the game on a deeper level. It's hard to get into the flow when a bad decision causes potentially irreparable damage. Pick up the wrong weapon, lose a ship, and suddenly you're in a hell that not even the tallest ladder could help you climb out of.

Besides the three bonus areas, boss battles might be the closest Super Aleste gets to giving players a break. They're all clever, intense, and short. The final boss in particular had me thinking that the game was something of a tribute to Gradius. I will say however that these vultures will pick apart weakened ships. Without the weaponry to block its endless triangles, the Area 8 boss becomes quite grueling. A few bombs are usually enough to outright erase bosses, but there's another factor to consider. Lives are indicated by gold ships or blue ships. Lose a gold ship and you respawn right where you left off. Blue ships, however, are tossed back to the last checkpoint. The only way to turn a ship from blue to gold is by shooting a green weapon power-up until it becomes floating orbs of light. That's an awfully specific scenario since it hinges on the player being in a good enough condition to give up their choice of weapon. Naturally, anyone struggling is going to be stuck with a (small) squadron of blue ships, potentially eliminating any hope of bombing through the next big encounter. This loss of momentum all but guarantees a Game Over in the immediate future.

If it ever sounds like I'm overselling just how hard this game can get, then let me remind you that there are five levels of difficulty. Aside from the default / lowest setting, they're all designed to break players down until they're nothing more than a molecule. Only after they've built themselves back up and regained a semblance of confidence can they move onto the next setting, and that's when the cycle repeats. Hard starts showing its claws as early as Area 2. The few remaining survivors are then treated to Hyper & Insane: the duplex in revenge bullets central. It's not enough that every destroyed enemy can leave behind a bullet. Imagine several bullets flying out of what was once a wall. Picture a large ship releasing a spiral of pain after exploding. It's a lot to deal with, likely too much for anyone who hasn't already mastered the charged shot and its huge bullet-erasing lasers. 

Space Megaforce has a depth to it that only the world's greatest players may ever see the bottom of, and that's impressive as hell. Somehow, in-between multiple other games on other platforms, Compile dropped one of the best shmups the Super Nintendo has ever seen. The sheer boldness and creativity found in every area is something special to behold. They threw everything at this game, and everything works. Be aware though that the consequences of a single mistake can set off a chain reaction; a comedy of errors. I never found my "Dodonpachi 1-ALL" moment. The only zone I ever found myself in was the one that turns heroes to zeroes.

2026 Special - Astalon: Tears of the Earth

Astalon: Tears of the Earth is yet another story in my strange relationship with video games. I heard the rave recommendations, read the glowing reviews, saw the game was heavily discounted, and gave it a purchase. "Wow! This seems pretty neat." I'd mutter to myself while acclimating to the controls. After that, let's just say that my whims got the better of me. The new game I just bought was immediately abandoned and forgotten. It'll be years before those whims that led me away from LABS Works Metroidvania would bring me back again. Well, better years than decades, right? At least there's still the illusion of a functioning society that might be interested in hearing about why this is a great game. Let's get on with the discussion before I get distracted by a spot on my bedroom wall that's less off-white than the rest.

In the year 21XX, a devastated planet Earth and its few survivors witnessed a bizarre calamity. Ancient ruins housing incomparable evils rose from the wastes. It didn't take long for more problems to occur. One of the few remaining sources of fresh water has been poisoned. Three heroes have taken it upon themselves to explore a nearby tower, intent on stopping the scourge that threatens to wipe out their village. One of them, a wizard named Algus, holds a secret. Due to his pact with Epimetheus, the Titan of Death, dying is little more than an inconvenience. If Algus falls on too many beds of spikes, or one of his allies eats too much fire, then they're merely kicked back to the Tower's entrance. Think of it as a split in the timeline and not the reversal of time itself. In terms of game mechanics, it means that all progress is retained when you die. 

Believe me, I'm not knocking your gaming skills. It's just that even if I ignored the death that's forced upon the heroes in the first five minutes of the game, there's no escaping the crushing jaws of inevitability. One of the gutsy design decisions that Astalon: Tears of the Earth makes is forgoing practically every traditional method of recovering health. There are no healing fountains or comfy beds. Unless it comes with a hot meal, a warm fire isn't going to do anything. Oh, and before you ask, Algus only cooks after specific events, so gorging is out of the question. If you want to feel the loving embrace of maximum HP, then... you have to die. That's just the way it is.

You might not be comfortable with such an arrangement, and that's fair. Video games have a tendency to create this "anything less than 100% HP is unforgivable" mindset. Speaking for myself, I'm the kind of gamer that would spend 4 MP to heal 3 HP. Perhaps it's because maintaining perfect health in a game is one of the only things I seem to have any control over in my life. This game exists, it's taken away something that brings me comfort, yet I'm okay. Algus and his friends have entered an entirely new area with less than 10 HP between them, but I'm managing. Now they've just entered a room that's filled with spikes and mini-bosses, and I'm feeling a little comfy. Let me say it right now: it's brilliant game design.

A lot of what makes Astalon: Tears of the Earth's approach to health work is found in the mechanics surrounding it. Inside the Tower are many fiendish creatures, all of which drop souls when they're slain. Epimetheus has a great interest in souls, almost as if they were currency. What if these souls could be exchanged for boons such as upgraded stats or new abilities? Makes sense, right? There is a slight catch, and its death. This is not a store you can just walk into. First, you die, then you shop. Think of it more as break, an opportunity to reflect on everything that led to yet another untimely demise. If Algus, Kyuli the archer, or Agrias the knight died to a boss, then perhaps they need more defense or attack power. Maybe it's a problem that doesn't have a clear solution, like the party entered a place that was overwhelming in its architecture, had too many locked doors, whatever. Sometimes, all you can do is rest, regroup, and go someplace else.

Level-design might be one of the toughest elements of a game to get right, but the pay-off is astounding. The Tower is a complex but never bewildering labyrinth. There aren't brick walls or convoluted puzzles, just the constant sensation of progress. Every room has value, because every room feels earned. Going the single-screen route works wonderfully because it creates a self-contained series of obstacles that's bolstered by the whatever condition the heroes are in. Each area is connected by a wealth of shortcuts, and discovering an elevator is like swapping saliva with an angel. Everything works in concert to take all of the sting out of death. I mean, I can't guarantee everyone'll feel the same, but not once did I ever grumble "Goddammit. Now I gotta do that part again! Goddamned son of a fucker shit ass-" after getting kicked back to the Tower's entrance. The fact that all of the rewards are useful shouldn't be overlooked either. Everyone can use a +1 attack, a +5 health, or a bell that switches heroes with the press of a button.

Oh, ohhh... Yeah, that's another potential sticking point I could've discussed sooner. The heroes all have strengths, weaknesses, and specialized talents. You weigh the strengths and weaknesses before confronting enemies, but you need the talents in order to overcome particular obstacles. Astalon makes it clear that you'll be spending a significant portion of the adventure without a convenient means of switching the player-character. If there's a location that Algus can't reach, then run to the nearest camp and switch with Kyuli or Agrias. At least a third of the game's runtime is played under this limitation. It just works. Dead serious. Mainly it's because each hero has a different playstyle, but not to the point that it feels like relearning how to play. Agrias swings his sword like he's Adol in Ys III and Kyuli is a demon at long-range. They're designed to fit specific playstyles in combat, but the rigors of running and jumping remain the same. Their similarities in movement make getting around a breeze. Of course, that all changes when most of the traversal powers have been unlocked, but you've (hopefully) found the bell by then. 

I will say however that most players are going to lean on Algus for boss-slaying duties. Each hero is more than capable of handling themselves in a climactic battle. However, the wizard, already devastating at mid-range, will discover a "main character" buff that gives him an edge over his compatriots. It might just be easier for him to realize his full potential, and replays would unearth some boss-obliterating tech available only to knights or archers. Testing that theory probably won't happen until at least New Game+ though. Maxing out stats requires a ton of souls, and the best grinding location is found after almost every big bad is big dead. I'm not even going to bother discussing the other two characters. They aren't weak, but they are late. Still, it's definitely worth the trouble to seek them out, and not just because it's required to finish the game. Exploring the tower is so much fun that I welcomed everything and everyone that allowed me to see more of it. 

Above all though, I'll say that the way Astalon: Tears of the Earth approaches death is something worth studying. Death is... freeing in a way. When opportunities to recover are practically nonexistent, what can one do except embrace inevitability. Now I'm not saying dying is good. It's more about making the most of the remaining life. Maybe I'll get a little bit further: Unlock a shortcut. Collect a valuable item. I might even shock myself by defeating a boss! Well, a mini boss, at least. I can't work miracles. By taking away what has comforted me through so many other games, this has given me reason to rely on myself. Sometimes I forget that I'm capable of doing a lot with very little... as long as it involves playing video games. 

Arcade Appreciation - Metamorphic Force

Metamorphic Force chronicles the story of four brave men who inherited an ancient power that allows them to unleash the furry within. Choose whichever guy who stokes your coals and get ready for six stages of hack & bash action. Forgive me, but this is going to be a bit of a weird belt-scroller to describe. The impression I get is that Konami just wanted to make another X-men but couldn't secure the license. Seriously, put both games together and you'll notice dozens of similarities. Everything from the late 80s comic book character-designs to how everyone walks or punches feels like the X-sequel that never got a chance to grace the arcades. I probably shouldn't use the word sequel though, because there isn't nearly enough here to warrant the usage of the word. Strictly speaking, there's less content here than in the previous game. The cast also suffers from unrealized potential. There's personality in everyone's basic attacks, but super moves are just the Nightcrawler-esque "flies around the screen destroying everything". Still, there's some fun moments, like the guy with the log who uses his bear form to sit on opponents. *

I should probably explain the central mechanic. At first, each of the playable characters start off as humans, relying on their fists or weapons to battle anthropomorphic aggressors. After a short time, they'll stumble over the first of many gold statues. By grabbing this power-up, their forms will be altered, becoming more beast than man. Bestial warriors benefit from enhanced strength and agility, but in truth, it's not something that significantly affects how to play the game. To put it another way, the human form in Metamorphic Force is roughly equivalent to the ghost form in Avenging Spirit. Sorry, let me put it another 'nother way: if you're not covered in fur, then you're probably close to dying. Both the health meter and power meter replenish or deplete at roughly the same rate. Also, a fellow with puppy dog eyes appears frequently, and he almost always has a golden statue in his sack. 

Bear in mind that there isn't some enormous power gap between the human and beast forms. Even without claws, the heroes can waste their opponents in as little as three hits. This is a clever move on Konami's part, as it ensures that bad circumstances can still be recovered from. However, I can't imagine anyone aside from maniacs ever skipping out on the beast form, simply because that's what makes the combat sing. Instead of raw power, a lot of the beasts' strengths come from having enhanced range, as well as a greater degree of mobility in both their ground and air attacks. The hit feedback and animations are also extremely good. There's less impact than genre titans like Final Fight, and that's fine. Instead of focusing on singular hits, the developer opted for short strings and quick flurries. It's designed to emulate the ferocity of a wild animal as it ravages its prey.

While Metamorphic Force does suffer a little from having less-developed characters than its predecessors, I appreciate the refinements it brings to the core game design. Controlling someone and attacking whatever opposes them feels uniquely unnatural. Yes, this is a positive opinion. What I mean is that certain aspects of the combat are very loose, almost as if Konami wanted a beatemup where attacks have a statistically higher probability of landing than any other beatemup out there. If your proximity to an enemy is anything approaching reasonable, then the next press of that attack button is going to do some damage. Grappling is also very simple. You don't even have to push the d-pad / stick towards the manimal you want to grab. The simple act of throwing creates a generous hitbox, so you don't have to worry about a nearby enemy getting a hit in after you just sent his buddy on a one-way trip. 

Even with all of their advantages, I still must advise players to never underestimate the opposition. The lowliest (and greenest) lizardmen don't do much besides laugh at misfortune, but they are deadly with weapons. A few guys with spears will erase a life meter. The difficulty never reaches the absurdist heights of Turtles in Time Arcade, but with every passing stage, enemies increase in number as resources dwindle. Survival eventually comes down to managing large crowds and neutralizing threats with immediacy. As for the bosses... You can probably get away with underestimating a few of them. 

A topic that often comes up in beatemup discussion is the presence of "adds" during boss battles. A lot of these guys (or gals), impressive looking as they tend to be, are at least aware that one-on-one fights are never in their favor. How does the saying go? Never fight alone? That's not a saying. Whatever. The point is that unless the boss is an incredible talent, then they should never fight the player on equal terms. Bring a couple of friends to distract, annoy, and eventually destroy. The guys (and gal) of Metamorphic Force aren't anywhere near skilled enough to compete with the player who can just walk up and grab them. They're not inept. The 4th boss has a grab range that'd make Street Fighter 2 era Zangief jealous. Boss #5 has an ass that kills in three hits. They are outmatched though. This rift creates a difficulty imbalance that's noticeable, but not a huge deal otherwise. Newcomers are still going to see a lot of their virtual coins get eaten.

If my "originally an X-men sequel" theory has any basis in reality, then it's a miracle that Metamorphic Force was #1 finished and #2 damn good. Stomping on multiple beast-folk while listening to banger tunes is a lovely way to spend multiple afternoons. The long-term depth might be a little lacking, but there's still enough of a difference between all four characters to warrant multiple playthroughs. The ease in which one move flows to the next, allowing players to solve several problems at once; this serves as proof that simple yet satisfying combat still goes a long way. Plus, it's not like I can complain about cheap bosses eating all the credits, right?

*Gross. I must've used "there" a gazillion times in that first paragraph.

Stomping in this game rules. 

Steam look - Rocketron

Metnal 28 is under attack by the Congregation of Gogoh! Rocketron corps are fighting valiantly, but even they can't stop the cultists' onslaught. In order to quell this insurrection, Argo Express has sent in the ultimate cybernetic warrior. His name? Rocket Musket.

... Actually wait. That's the name of his gun, which can also be classified as ultimate! Boasting unlimited ammo and weapon-switching capabilities on par with a small army of MCRs, Rocket Musket is the future of warfare. With gun in hands and jetpack on back, the cyborg B.L.A.M. will explore six areas, battle Gogoh's endless hordes, and avoid some sawblades.

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There it is again, the damned blinking cursor. Of all the reviews I could've written, this is the one I wanted to sidetrack the least. ASTRO PORT is known for making consistent quality games that incorporate elements that are too-often overlooked. Gigantic Army is one of the few shooters to carry the torch for classics like Cybernator and Front Mission: Gun Hazard. All of their products include a wide range of difficulty settings that do more than just shift damage values around. This review was supposed to be just another look at a very good Contravania, but- oh, hang on. I have to explain another dumb term I just made up. Rocketron is a run & gun with search-action elements. Hallways full of dangerous mechs, unlimited ammunition, and some non-linearity to facilitate exploration. Sounds neat, right? 

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You don't have to answer that. There are times when I'm so down that I have to fabricate a kindred spirit, so they'll encourage me to keep writing. These past however many years, it feels like the only regular contact I've had with anyone are insurers, mortgagers, and mechanics. Part of the reason I became a critic was the mistaken belief it'd help me meet more people; developers, other critics, etc. Instead, it's been nothing but silence. Close to a decade of voluntary work burned me out, yet I returned; knowing full well that nothing is going to change. I'm an automaton with a lifetime of customer service experiences and a voice that's as loud as the lone flea on a St. Bernard. My purpose has always been to give. I'll get squished if I protest, and who'll be left to write these nonsensical reviews?

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This game is effortless in both controls and execution. B.L.A.M. has an almost floaty mobility that contrasts nicely with his jetpack. It takes some getting used to but really adds to the game's flair. This cyber human is no doubt constructed with heavy armor, giving him weightiness and momentum not found in beings of flesh and bone. I figure that most players will be able to adapt within minutes, and they'll have to. A common obstacle is beds of spikes, and irresponsible jetpack usage will send the protag flying into them. Still, there's a sincere belief in my heart that having the controls work this way adds an extra level of satisfaction to every dodge. Avoiding bullets by measurements too small to be described is a constant joy. 

However, just because the Rocket Musket has an eternity's worth of ammo and a wide of gamut of shot-types doesn't make it immune to limitations. One of the more interesting limitations is durability. If the player takes too much damage while the shotgun module is enabled, then it becomes unusable until enough healing items are recovered. In other words, those who favor certain playstyles are expected to play extra carefully. Depending on its durability, a module can be lost in two hits or less. This can lead to situations where boss strategies change mid-fight. Adaptation is a constant, because there's no perfect weapon.

The drill does come kind of close though. At first, B.L.A.M. uses this to carve through clearly marked walls, but he'll soon discover that it obliterates enemies. Of course, the tricky part is having to get close enough to risk eating several flavors of projectiles. Its durability is infinite though, and the game wisely strays from contact damage (the exception being the tiniest bots that explode on impact). There's what could be described as a DOOM-like essence to how weapons work. Drilling is one of the quickest ways to destroy something, but it requires knowing the full extent of an enemy's capabilities. The difficulty setting affects how often they fire, so micro-adjustments to one's approach are a constant part of the game. However, relying heavily on powerful projectile weapons that can be undone with one bad move is also a risk. I can imagine not every player liking this mechanic, but I think it helps keep Rocketron from being just another "hold the fire button while dodging stuff" escapade. 

Another interesting feature is how upgrades are handled. Weapons, as well as health and running speed, are all upgraded with crystals. These are placed in numerous locations; yet only occasionally in the player-character's path. Choosing where to apply crystals - or use them at all - can add further dimension to a playthrough. It helps to keep those 100% runs from being too easy, since one can just opt to ignore their rewards while still overcoming the challenges necessary to reach them. \

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I can't think of much else to say about the game. It's quite well done. The level-design consisting mostly of long enemy-filled hallways works much better than it normally would. This might be because of the emphasis on running & gunning. Rushing through adversity as it explodes in a fiery blaze is in itself a thrill, and there's a decent variety of both mecha and traps to keep one's attention. The level-design is consistently straightforward and plays to ASTRO PORT's strengths. There's a slightly annoying amount of backtracking though. Comes with the territory I suppose.

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That's all I've got. Until next review!