Sega Genesis Look - Road Rash 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sega Genesis Look - Forgotten Worlds

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sega Genesis Look - QuackShot Starring Donald Duck

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sega Genesis Look - Road Rash

Road Rash is still pretty fucking good!

I mean, shit. The year is 2026 and there's probably a hundred dozen games where I could ride a motorcycle and punch people. Maybe they have ragdoll physics, explosions, and decapitations. They could even run at a framerate above 14. I'm not interested in any of them. Road Rash though, I'll fire that up whenever the whim strikes me. Before going any further, I'd like to give a quick shout to the Road Rash Improvement hack. The slight increase in frames actually makes a big difference, allowing me to better appreciate the remarkable handling and satisfying combat. 

What makes this game work? For starters, I don't think it'll ever get enough credit for how easy it is to pick up and play. B accelerates, A brakes, and C attacks. Everything else is learned through experience. The learning curve is generous enough that you earn money as long as you finish a race, and undoing any losses from hospital bills or lawyer fees is as simple as inputting a password. Okay, that part isn't so simple. Still, it's an instant action racer. The closest it gets to having any simulation elements is new bike purchases, and that still operates under the "more expensive = better" rule. 

What really gives it replayability is that it's not afraid to have variables. Normally, variables are something that I'd be opposed to in a racer. Losing a race because some large object managed to sneak its way onto the track at the worst possible moment is ridiculous. It works in Road Rash because you and over a dozen other bikers are doing 160 on roads where the limit is 35. Whatever happens, happens. If you can walk away from it with the trophy (or walk at all), then congrats, maniac. Besides, these variables aren't designed specifically to punish the player. Even if you're not personally swinging on them, the opposition can still crash, lose a staring contest to an automobile, etc. Stick close to your rivals, and you might just get to 1st place while their bikes and bodies tumble on the asphalt. Their imperfect AI is part of what keeps races exciting.

What's up with these Ronald McDonald-looking rivals?

None of this would really matter if players weren't able to escape oblivion themselves. Thankfully, that's not the case here. It might be hard to believe, but in my most recent playthrough, I finally understood the importance of braking. Back in the day, I thought winning was just holding B and hoping for the best, but there's far more to it than that. Turns in this game are dangerous, particularly on tracks like Redwood Forest, where its constant S-curves can send racers through a tree in an instant. Letting off the gas and applying a little brake makes a huge difference. Since tracks run between 5 and 15 miles in length, memorizing layouts is out of the question. However, the player is given plenty of room in order to react to whatever is happening. Given enough time, they'll learn to predict what's coming, and move with just enough restraint to avoid a crash.

Endurance and careful driving become increasingly valuable as progress is made through level. I wasn't quite clear in the last paragraph, but endgame races take over 15 miles to complete. With the best bike, that's just over 6 minutes. Considering all the things that can and will go wrong, this might as well be a century. What keeps the game balanced is that while the rivals get better bikes, they don't get much smarter. If you can get the lead, then you can hold onto it, just don't take unnecessary risks. Freak accidents aren't the end of the race either. I've gotten into massive accidents that sent Flandre flying half a mile and she still didn't lose her lead. Mistakes happen. You get blind-sided by a deer, whatever. They can be recovered from. 

Also, Road Rash is just one of those games that's designed to flick "hell yeah!" switches. There's always joy when you pass by a car and catch a glimpse of them smashing your rival in the rearview mirror. Taking someone down with a well-timed kick is difficult, but that just makes it extra rewarding. Weaving in-between two cars at once is a massive risk for little gain, but the fact that it's doable at all is awesome. Getting launched from a collision and flying through the finish line? It's such a wonderful feeling. 

I can't guarantee a game this old will have the same effect when you play it, but I had to say something about how it still remains enjoyable in the face of countless titles that might run smoother and have more content. Road Rash is a special little slice of heaven that still kicks ass.

Sega Genesis Look - Twin Hawk

Back in 1985, Toaplan put out Tiger-Heli, one of the exceedingly rare shmups that doesn't feature any flying enemies whatsoever. No planes, no jets, nothing that soars or hovers. If it doesn't have treads, floats in water, or is bolted to the ground, then you're not shooting at it. Was a STG with no airborne adversity supposed to be avant-garde or something? Probably not. I mean, Toaplan would eventually become a giant in the shooter genre, but Tiger-Heli was still their first effort. Having tanks AND planes right out the gate was probably too much trouble. Look at Konami. There'd be no Gradius without Scramble. Even the greats started from nothing. From a dream to a program to a product that revolutionizes entertainment. Video games are pretty magical.

Needless to say, it's awfully surprising to discover that Toaplan made another "no-plane" shmup in 1989. Twin Hawk takes place shortly after World War 2. Gorongo, a fictional country named after a Mazinger monster of the week, is under attack by General Giovanni. Though his military lacks an air force, he's got the land and sea superiority to conquer Europe. As commander of the Daisenpuu squadron, it's your job to hop in a A6M Zero flying fortress and infiltrate Giovanni's base. Failure to stop him will mean the end of Europe, World War 3, destruction of the entire planet, and maybe even an alien invasion. 

Basically, the goal is to survive for as long as possible. There are four areas packed with tanks, gunboats, and artillery. Shortly after destroying Giovanni's superweapon, you'll start again on the next loop, where the bullets get faster and the chances of death increase exponentially. The closest you'll get to a satisfactory conclusion is beating your high score. To put it another way, this is a serious back-to-basics STG. There aren't any scoring tricks to memorize. You don't get cool weapons like homing lasers or napalm that fires in seven directions. Hell. Speed-ups don't even exist. Potential variables that might've lent this any randomness were stripped out. Work within the confines or get overwhelmed and shot down. 

A lot can be said about the almighty tank and the pain they inflict upon fans of shmups. Tanks move slowly but are at least 1% hardier than the popcorn enemies that usually cross your path. What makes them deadly is their accuracy. Their turrets actively seek you out, firing once they've got you sighted. It probably doesn't need to be said, but if you're not moving, you're dying. Tanks work in tandem with their allied planes or artillery, creating walls of bullets to trap the unaware. Their ability to fire the instant they appear onscreen is outright devilish. As long as there is land - or sea in the case of gunships - then a tank could attack from any angle, even if, and especially when the player is at their most vulnerable. Naturally, Twin Hawk is a game for tank-lovers and is confident enough to throw every possible combination of them at players until all the spare lives are depleted. 

Besides power-ups that increase the width of your main weapon, your only other tool is the ability to summon a squadron. Flying in formation, these six planes with fire straight ahead, cutting down most anything in their path. The catch is that they're taken out of the fight just as easily as you are. When one of your allies is struck by a bullet, they crash into the nearest enemy to do a just a little more damage. Alternatively, you can double tap the squad button, trading the assist for a bomb with a lot of destructive power. It's worth noting that you can actually keep allied ships relatively safe for quite some time. The tanks only ever aim at you, so it's possible to lure bullets away. 

Beyond that however, all you really have is your desire to not to get lit up into a flaming ball of shrapnel. The A6M Zero moves only slightly faster than Simon Belmont. Flying from one side to the next, wiping out every tank hiding in opposite corners? That's simply not happening. This is one of those games where you really have to choose what to engage. Yes, leaving some tanks untouched while they make pot shots is just one of those circumstances that you'll have to deal with. Adding to your troubles is the fact that tanks can still snipe your plane from behind, even when they've been scrolled offscreen. I'm pretty sure this is a crime against shmups, but I respect it. The plane's hurtbox is decently small, and checkpoints are generous to the point that they push you ahead a little bit, so you're not just endlessly repeating the part you're stuck at.

Twin Hawk is really good about teaching its players the value of controlling space. Tempting as it may to sit at the bottom of the screen and react to whatever gets tossed your direction, that tactic won't get you very far. Learn to embrace to the upper half of the screen, especially since being close to the top increases your rate-of-fire. Even if it's impossible to hit everything at once, aggressive play can swiftly eliminate larger tanks. Also, simply moving around the entirety of the screen creates a lot of potential evasive options. You're much less likely to get trapped if you move in a quarter-circle instead of a straight line. 

While this is a short game, the multitude of potential loops does offer an incentive to keep trying. Enemy bullets increase in speed when you reach areas 5, 9, 13, and so on. When the bullets get to be a little too quick for your default plane, then you'll trade it for a helicopter. Manage to get even further, and that helicopter is tossed out and replaced with a jet fighter. It's a neat way of keeping the difficulty um... probable? I guess that's the word I'd use. Also, the Mega Drive version is a bit more forgiving than the Arcade original. Players can appreciate Toaplan's vision without hammering at a brick wall for hours. 

Compared to the wealth of all-timers in the 16-bit STG library, Twin Hawk can feel a bit limiting. I assure you however that those limitations are beneficial to the game. Everything that you'd expect from a good throwback is accounted for. Solid fundamentals, easy to understand, rewarding to master. Having a heaping helping of tanks to shoot through is just plain neat.

Sega Genesis Look - Rolo to the Rescue

Apologies in advance for kicking off another review with an elderly rant, but I'm not getting any younger. The grey hairs have started arriving in force. You've heard of wing tips, right? Currently, I'm rocking the one-winged tip. My advancing age has brought about this compulsion to tell kids about gaming back in the day. We didn't have Roblox and the infinite hours of child labor entertainment it provides. The few of us who could afford game systems were rarely able to own any games. Every weekend was spent hoping the rental store had something worthwhile. Otherwise, I was stuck with Sonic the Hedgehog, Kid Chameleon, or James Pond for the zillionth time. Goddamned James Pond. Can you believe that lousy piece of junk didn't even have a final boss? No epic confrontation with the villainous Dr. Maybe? Gaming in the past was a sadness parade.

You're probably wondering where Rolo to the Rescue fits into this nonsense story. Originally, I was planning to work in the line "We didn't have Roblox! We had Rolo!" but couldn't bring myself to publish something that brilliant. No, my memories of this 1993 puzzle-platformer by Vectordean are a little more pleasant than one might expect. Back then, I had such a high opinion of it that I rented it twice! The music was okay, the graphics weren't eye-searing, and there were secrets. Give my younger self a game packed with hidden levels, and I'd probably ignore all of its problems (Sorry James Pond 3, but you flew way too close to the sun). What can I say about Rolo after 30 yea... uh... after 3 decad... umm... after some time has passed? Well, it's a weird little adventure; dated in ways even I can't appreciate, but I don't regret my time spent with it... that much. 

Rolo is an elephant who jumps, runs exceptionally fast, and shrinks in the wash. Give him some fizzy drinks and he'll fire spritzes of seltzer at the evil circus troupe that captured his friends. Toss him a vacuum and his trunk can suck in certain objects. He's basically Ellie from Donkey Kong Country 3, except worse. Something that players will quickly learn the hard way is that this platformer has no concept of coyote time. Get accustomed to hitting the jump button (B) at least a few frames before Rolo reaches the edge of a ledge. Oh, and don't even use the run button (hold A) unless you're absolutely certain it's required. Here's one of those rare 16-bit games I'd describe as dash-unfriendly. Rolo's woefully large hurtbox and wet-paper durability are more than sufficient reasons to take it slow. When all else fails, head to whichever stage has extra lives that are easiest to reach and stock up. 

Throughout most levels are the friends that Rolo has to rescue. They're locked in cages, so first you'll have to hunt down some jerk in large hat to get the key. Friends come in multiple shapes and have their own powers. Mostly though, it's an excuse to shake up the monotony by having a squirrel climb a wall or a beaver cross a lake. Puzzles usually aren't too complex, and the hardest levels almost always involve excessive platforming or boss battling. Speaking of, I hope you like - or at least tolerate - blind jumps, because there will be a few. Mainly, what keeps even the worst level from becoming frustrating is their short length. On the oft chance that a level runs longer than usual, then you're liable to have at least a couple friends who'll take a hit for Rolo. 

A detail that I've noticed during my recent playthrough is the game's fondness for specific actions. There's plenty of moments where Rolo has to stand in an expect spot or jump at the right moment to avoid death. A level that immediately comes to mind involves biting traps. These toothy abominations leap at anything that gets close. Running, ducking, or attempting to jump over them is a guaranteed death. Anyone trying to survive must hop as they approach the sharp-toothed fiend, hopefully fooling them into leaping overhead. This technique is used a few times - all in the same level - and never again. These and other instances point to a game that isn't afraid to experiment, but not in a way that feels playful. Either you figure out what's expected of you, or a baby elephant dies. It's a little harsh.

If this was intended to be a kid's game, then I have to question the existence of its final boss. He's the Evil Circus Master, and he does not mess around. His very first attack is a massive jolt of lightning that bounces all over the screen. Hide in the corner or die and start over. Next up is an easy-to-avoid spread of flying heads. Finally, he sends homing balls that'll take a few or a dozen lives before their pattern can be figured out. Let me remind you that Rolo is a big target, so there's no such thing as a near-miss. Players who finally destroy their captor but don't rescue every friend are treated to a dark ending where they're never truly happy again. Hmm... Well, I suppose Rolo to the Rescue is as much a kid's game as Watership Down is a kid's movie.  

Considering its annoying controls and uneven difficulty, I needed some time to think about what my younger self saw in this two-rental game. My conclusion is that Rolo's adventure offers enough failure and success to make its players feel like they've accomplished something. It has the satisfaction of discovery without demanding a guidebook to find everything. Then again, it's not as if my rental shop had a stellar Genesis selection. With there being countless better choices available today, it's hardly any wonder why it took 30 ye... 3 dec... a little while before I decided to give this game another play.

2026 Special - Valkyrie Profile

There's always some part of me who doesn't want to write reviews. Undoubtedly, this part is concerned about my persistently dwindling sanity. I don't want to make assumptions, but writing for decades and having nothing to show for it might have a negative effect on a person. Quitting would be nice, but it's not as if I have anywhere else to go. Like the rest of ya'll, I'm stuck on a planet controlled by the worst scumbags imaginable. All I've got is a mountain of debt and responsibilities, neither of which really matter in the long run. Seems like both the world I live in and the "world" I cultivated are both drowning in shit. Whatever you might read in-between the lines of these video game reviews is the only outlet I have.

What really sucks about all this is that it feels destined. Everything has been predetermined. I can push until my shoulders explode, but the walls won't move. Even though I've never believed in it for a second, fate and "God's will" have placed me in a coffin. Don't get me wrong, it's a large coffin, about ten square miles, but I'm never getting out of it. Either I'm exceptionally poor at making decisions, or the values instilled within me were specifically crafted so that I'd never escape my destiny. What I believed was the right thing was nothing more than a construct designed to keep me from escaping these binds and creating an actual meaningful life for myself. 

...Just thinking about this is exhausting. I'd better discuss Valkyrie Profile before lying down for another decade. Anyone familiar with the game will attest that they see a lot of themselves in Lenneth. Their purpose, whether they realize it or not, has already been decided for them. Until they find it within themselves to question the role that was given to them, then the game ends just like it began; ordained by destiny. Destiny, in this case, is stopping Ragnarok from destroying Valhalla. Lenneth the Valkyrie's immediate purpose is recruiting the recently deceased to serve as Einharjar's. She trains them in dungeons scattered throughout Midgard, then sends them to Odin to fight his war with Surt. Though the heroine is blessed with otherworldly powers, those alone won't help her uncover the truth. It's something of a sticking point for those who have played this game. Its requirements to obtain the best possible ending are a little obtuse, requiring a level of dedication not often seen in an RPG, or a guide. I, of course, chose the latter. 

Tri-Ace games have always been slow to start. They love their long introductions and extended tutorials. Such is the case for the first two Einharjar you recruit: Arngrim and Jelanda. Every soul in Midgard has a tragic story to tell, and theirs happens to take the longest to play out. Well, perhaps second longest. A young lady by the name of Mystina and her fri- associate Lezard Valeth discuss an assortment of topics, none of which are any use to a Valkyrie that is 100% committed to her purpose. Pardon me! I'm getting ahead of myself, as I always do. Point is, you listen to your tutor Freya, follow her directions to the letter, and Ragnarok will be over before you know it. Lenneth will go back to sleep for an eternity, never knowing that there's more to life than what was predetermined.

Valkyrie Profile is everything except traditional. The quickest description I'd give it is action-platformer with a turn-based battle system, but that'd be ignoring the sim elements. Each dungeon is side-scroller, and they all contain problems that must be solved before Lenneth can confront the end-boss. Controlling the Valkyrie might take a moment to get used to. Her jumps aren't Classicvania stiff, but still fairly limiting. At least, it's something I had to get re-accustomed to after decades spent away from the game. It'll require a bit of finesse to acquire the many treasures that litter each dungeon, without getting snared by their traps. Actually, eating a few arrows or explosions isn't a big deal. The game is forgiving towards players who accidentally bump into all things sharp and hot. However, it also expects its players to learn the intricacies of Valkyrie's ability to create crystals. This leads to a lot of platforming scenarios that range from interesting to annoying. The most diabolical of them all is Celestial Castle. At one point, you'll have to navigate under the floating stronghold. If the heroine falls, then she'll have to start the dungeon over, which costs valuable time... or you could just reload a save. Mistakes are only as punishing as you want them to be.

I'm sure imitators exist, but there is certain magic to this game's battle system that isn't so easily replicated. This is due to how Tri-Ace values party compositions and equipment. Basically, the Valkyrie and her Einherjar can put on a Hel of a show, but it's raw numbers that seal the fate of the fell beasts and restless undead they contend with. Undoubtedly, it's very rewarding to know everyone's attack patterns and chain together combos. It's important to point out though that you're probably not slaying a dragon without a dragon slayer. This is, of course, a reminder to thoroughly explore each dungeon. What you do outside of battle matters, more than you can even imagine, but it might not be obvious on the first playthrough.

Before continuing onward, let me make one thing clear. The easy difficulty shouldn't exist. It's too truncated to make for an enjoyable adventure. I'd even go so far as to recommend starting on the hard setting and just checking out normal if you're interested in visited its exclusive dungeons. Besides having access to a couple of tools that might affect certain battles, there's no discernible difference between either setting. This isn't like most RPG hard modes that give enemies a juicy multiplier. That said, the hard setting does feature several dungeons that are... hm. Well, let me just say that I have mixed feelings about a few of them. The Tombs of Amenti is enormous and packed with just about every gimmick a puzzle platformer can have. On the plus side, it's also fairly straightforward. Clockwork Mansion's central gimmick is a maze. A map is provided, but navigating the damn thing still doesn't make much sense. Still, I appreciate that so many ideas are being thrown around, even if I can't connect with some of them.

What makes Valkyrie Profile special isn't the sideview exploration and fun battle system. This is, above all, a simulation. Actually, I could be lying, and the simulation is really just a smokescreen the game misdirects its players with. Lenneth is trapped. Her loyalty is to Valhalla, but her heart is somewhere in Midgard. Life for this Goddess is defined by two numbers. In the "camp" menu is her evaluation. Sending valuable Einherjar to Odin increases it, while ignoring her duties and stealing artifacts will decrease it. Buried in Lenneth's "status" screen is the seal rating. It's the seal placed on her memories, and you aren't seeing the best ending as long as it stays high. Nowadays, most players run straight for the nearest guide, but I get a sense of what Tri-Ace was going for here. The expectation is that players would spend their first playthrough never doubting the cause. However, those second, third, and all future playthroughs would be spent ignoring orders, taking the ultra-powerful artifacts to make their battles easier, and eventually realizing there's a lot more to life than the end of the world. 

All of this is further complicated by the time limit. It's not a ticking clock, but rather a set of periods that are allowed for each chapter. Witnessing events and visiting dungeons cost periods. This is not nearly as punishing a system as one would expect. You'll always have a surplus of time, more than enough to revisit a few dungeons for additional experience or to collect a missing treasure. However, you have to be mindful of the fact that each chapter ends after 28 periods. In-between chapters, Freya will explain how the war is progressing, praising or punishing Lenneth for her efforts. The most interesting aspect of these intermissions is that a lot of effort was placed on something that's practically inconsequential. Ultimately, there are two ways the war will end. I won't discount the catastrophic possibilities that could occur if Lenneth sends over weak or ill-suited Einherjar, but most of the time it's just talk of exploits and accolades. Either you're paying attention because you're fully invested in the war, or your mind is elsewhere because of something Brahms or Lucian had said. 

This game has aged in ways that are almost unavoidable. In order to support every possible party composition, the majority of battles involve trash mobs. The instant you're able to craft a staff from a Unicorn Horn, the instant every other fight devolves into "use great magic and win". Tough fights are often because of some ability that's specific to a certain class of monsters. If you ever see 2 or more Beholders, then it's guaranteed you'll have to kill both in the same round to prevent them from reviving one another. The toughest fights are almost always gear and skill checks. Seeing the entire party struck for tens of thousands of damage eventually becomes the norm. In fairness, this starts happening after players have discovered an easily replenished source of full-heals. 

I believe Valkyrie Profile is one of the strongest, most well-realized RPGs on the Playstation. Tri-Ace wasn't afraid to take one of the most unique and expressive battle systems of the era and give players all of the tools to break it into dust. The catch is that these tools come at a price that some aren't comfortable with paying, and that's fine! Going against orders is something we've been taught since birth to avoid. I spent all my life doing what I was told and look at where it got me... 44 going on 45 years wasted in the same goddamned town. If only I knew my destiny was eating canned ravioli and ramen bricks just to afford a mortgage.