2026 Special - Valis (Sega Genesis)

I can't claim any knowledge of the anime subgenre known as isekai, but that doesn't mean a piece of my soul didn't vanish into nothingness the one time I tried a Sword Art Online game for the Playstation Vita. The concept of a virtual reality MMO that kills its players is what sold me. I didn't expect to be introduced to the main character's twenty-dozen girlfriends, wives, husbands, adopted children, etc. not even ten minutes into the actual game. Sure, it's human nature to make the best of a bad situation, but becoming "Mr. Two Swords: The most important and desirable man" just sounds like escapist drek. Yeah, I'm being unfair to a series that may or may not deserve it. These are the avenues I have to take in order to avoid being trapped with the dreaded blinking cursor on an empty page for hours.

For real though, I've always imagined isekai as being transported to some distant world that's completely divorced from reality. Picture a mundane life turned upside down and inside out until you're gazillions of light years away in another dimension conversing with aliens in a language that can only be spoken by folding your tongue 13 times. I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I want escapist drek that appeals to me. If it turned out that the afterlife was actually a planet out in the middle of nowhere, and I was the only human there, then it'd probably kick ass. Then again, I might feel differently after an eternity spent there, but that's a bridge that has to be crossed before- Oh, right! I'm supposed to be talking about Valis for the Sega Genesis... I think?

Valia: "Welcome to the Fantasy World. Rogles has broken Yin & Yang. Go kill him."

Yuko: "This is bullshit. Fuck you."

Valia: "Oh yeah? Eat this bikini armor laser."

Yuko: "...!"

What you've just seen is an accurate summation of Valis: The Fantasm Soldier's intro. Jokes aside, one of the key aspects to the series is its presentation. All of the cutscenes in this entry look good. The remainder of the audiovisual experience is fine. A couple of stages suffer from an especially repetitive song, but most players should survive it. Backdrops, enemies, and bosses also look okay. However, I've got this feeling that Valis 3 - which actually released on the Genesis before this port - looked and sounded much better. Perhaps my memory is faulty. Whatever the case, I can't really file this as a complaint. It's more of an observation used to pad out the portion of the review that I'm not 100% invested in.

The game itself is what you'd expect from an action-platformer. Yuko runs from left to right slicing up fiends with a sword while hopping or sliding over deadly pits. From the outset, it's clear that the properties of the sword itself are practically an afterthought. Hitting a baddie with it is made a tad more complicated than it should be. Blame it on the iffy hitboxes, which are a semi-common occurrence throughout the adventure. Thankfully, crystals situated in the air contain a variety of power-ups, including the first projectile weapon. 

Projectiles are your main means of dealing damage in Valis. Each weapon you can acquire can be powered up a couple extra times, increasing its strength or coverage. There's no strategy in choosing one projectile over the other. In fact, you should think of each new one you find as an upgrade. The sole exception is the homing arrow. Avoid it unless you're trying to make the game harder. Follow this simple rule and you'll have no trouble destroying all that dares to cross your path. Well, you'll likely have no trouble regardless, because 95% of this game is incredibly easy. Enemies don't respawn and are unlikely to make a dent in Yuko's beefy health meter before she nonchalantly slays them. I can't say I've ever considered the viability of a "pacifist run", but you'd probably have to bump into every single monster at least a couple of times to create the resemblance of a life-threatening situation. 

One of the admirable quirks of this series is the slide. A single tap of the A button causes Yuko to slide across the- well, she can slide across anything she wants apparently. What gives this technique its flavor is that the heroine completely ignores gravity while sliding. Indeed, you're better off sliding across holes instead of trying to leap over them. Slides also offer a much-appreciated boost of speed. Running tends to be a dreary way of getting around, especially in the forest stage after you've already slaughtered everything and just want to grab a couple missed power-ups. Sliding is also useful for the boss battles. I doubt it'll ever mean the difference between life or death, but it has to be worth some style points. 

If you ever find yourself struggling with Valis, then say no more, because I already know why. The boss of the forest stage is Reiko, Yuko's classmate. She's something of a special case because of her full-screen attack. This can't be dodged and takes away an inexplicable 46% of Yuko's health. No wait. If TV Tropes is a reputable source, then it's actually 48%. Point is, Reiko has this absurd move and isn't afraid to spam it. This is where I mention the singular purpose of this game's spell system. The "Flame Ring" spell gifts the heroine a couple seconds of invulnerability. Fire it up, get close, and mash that attack button. Your MP and especially HP should survive the battle. This spell is useful against the final boss as well, so don't forget about it. Do forget about every other spell though.

Ultimately, Valis manages to skirt just outside of the bad realm. Like I've mentioned multiple times in the past, if you've got a piece of interactive entertainment with questionable mechanics, balance issues, lackadaisical level-design, and a host of other faults, then consider keeping the difficulty as low as possible. I might treat it like Valis and let it slide with a rating of in-offensive. In my eyes, a heavily flawed video game will always benefit from being ridiculously easy to finish. Perhaps the lack of difficulty should be considered a flaw, but that's just not how I function. If I'm being challenged and that challenge is coming from the game's suckage, then that's no good. 

*Now that I think about it, in that Vita Sword Art Online game, I actually played the role of Mr. Two Swords' friend. Whatever. Nobody cares.

Game Boy look - Mega Man III - Roll-chan's World 3

Minakuchi Engineering is back with the third installment in the handheld Mega Man series. The previous game was... fine but clearly lacking the fresh spices that made Dr. Wily's Revenge such a cl... well, I personally wouldn't use the word classic, but maybe there's someone out there that feels differently. In any case, this entry is Mega Man 3 + 4 but twisted. Not TwIStEd twisted, but anyone expecting a smooth robot-stomping adventure is in for a rude awakening. 

For this go-around, you'll absolutely want to master the charge shot. Especially if you're like me and keep forgetting which Robot Masters are weak to which weapons. A charged blast is a respectable damage dealer no matter the situation and is required for defeating this entry's exclusive bosses. Otherwise, your most effective tools will be the Shadow Blade and maybe the Dust Crusher. Everything else is a pitiful waste of space. I'm not going to say that useless weapons is an uncommon sentiment in Mega Man games, but I was hoping the developer would use this second edition to dole out some buffs. 

With the main nitpick out of the way, let's jump right into what makes this game work: its level design. I thought that Dr. Wily's Revenge went too far in a few places. The last stage was especially gruesome with its multiple instances of disappearing blocks. Nothing nearly as excessive makes an appearance here. Instead, Minakuchi Engineering opted for stages that are about 1.3 times longer than usual. In Dive Man's stage, for example, there's a new section that takes place entirely underwater. There are spikes all over the ceilings, so measured jumps are essential. Some segments that were too uneventful or too taxing on the hardware were replaced. The end result is that you can't underestimate anything. Every obstacle has a purpose. Damage adds up quickly. Don't be ashamed if you find yourself hesitating at every jump, because an enemy can and likely will spawn at every jump. 

Still, I believe all of it works. The difficulty is consistent, and never sadistic. Oh, hold the front door, did I just say "never"? Yeah, poor word choice on my part. There are no evers, nevers, or forevers when it comes to video games. One important aspect that I should've immediately pointed out a second ago is Mega Man III loves its pixel-perfect jumps. If both of the hero's feet aren't hanging over the ledge, then that next leap might be their last. Either there's a low ceiling to bump one's head against, or the chasm is slightly wider than expected. I say this, but I'm still waffling on whether excessive applies. That's mainly because if the player is having a tense moment, like the platforms they're hopping across could disappear underneath them, then there are little to no precise jumps. I know it goes without saying, but a little patience goes somewhere. If you have time to plan your next move, then the game will act accordingly.

Dustman's stage is absolutely a showcase for ME's attitude. The slightest mistakes are often punished severely. First off, you'll want to pay attention to every semi-wide chasm. The enemy robots that pop out of them attack in pairs, blindsiding anyone whose timing is a little off. Several of the jumps have to be immaculate. It'll also get to be rather grueling, with a series of encounters specifically designed to chip away at health meters. Like I said before, every stage runs longer than usual, so getting kicked pack to a prior checkpoint or even the beginning hurts significantly. 

At least you're mostly in the clear if you can reach a boss with spare lives. The fights are extremely doable, and IMO at least, more reasonable than in other instalments. When I revisited Mega Man 3 (the NES game) not too long ago, I realized that some of the fights rely on a 50/50 guesses. Shadowman jumps three times then either slides or throws his shuriken. The slide is too fast to react to, but the shuriken is slightly delayed. I'm terrible at guessing, so trying to win this fight with just the buster was a headache. The charged shot and slightly decreased speed do an amazing job at taking some of the guesswork out of this troublesome fight. The same applies to every Robot Master, giving players more agency when deciding which one to tackle first. I also mentioned the exclusive fights that have to be done with just the buster. They're tough but doable. In spite of its intimidating size and penchant for crushing, Dr. Wily's final robot has a pretty simple pattern to exploit. 

Oh, and I have one other nitpick that I want to mention. There are platforms that explode three seconds after Mega Man or Roll steps on them. Keep in mind that the instant either of them land on the platform, they'll actually fall for a couple of frames due to the trigger being depressed. It's in these frames that your next press of the jump button is almost guaranteed to get eaten, resulting in a robot running off of the platform and into the loving embrace of a spike-bed. It's hard to call anything that results in instant death a minor quirk, but I suppose that's all it really is.

No matter how you go about playing it, Mega Man III is a damn solid entry from an underrated developer. Minakuchi Engineering eased up on the absurdity while still delivering an adventure that refuses to pull its punches. I didn't even have to bring up the controls because there's nothing out of the ordinary about them. This is an all-around great entry point for anyone curious about Mega Man's Game Boy era. 

Playstation 2 Look - Castlevania: Curse of Darkness

If I hadn't already made it clear, let it be etched in stone that I would follow Koji Igarashi to the ends of the Earth. However, after finishing Castlevania: Curse of Darkness many moons ago, I wished I could've caught up to him and said, "With all due respect Igarashi-san, what the hell was this?" He'd respond with a bow, a wry smirk, and then draw a croissant-shaped portal with his pinky finger. Before I could even stammer another word, he'd disappear. Honestly though, if that ever actually happened, I'd probably buy five copies of his next game instead of just three. I can't get enough of these systems-driven Action RPGs with their rare drops, voluminous bestiaries, and quirky mechanics that may or may not appear in future games. Even with all this in mind, there's no way that I'd ever revisit his 2005 monstrosity. No way in hell... 

Admittedly, the blood of a sicko maniac runs through my veins, which creates a thirst that isn't easily sated. You've already gotten a glimpse into its effects. I've just recently played and written about a string of Igavanias for platforms of all sizes. It isn't enough. As the wait for Bloodstained: The Scarlet Engagement continues, the thirst becomes uncontrollable. Seconds later, I black out. After a moment of what feels like swimming in the abyss, I awaken to the voice of Russel Watson. The instant my vision recovers, I recognize the Logitech F310 in my hands, and (to my horror) the credits rolling on Castlevania: Curse of Darkness. What I believed was a moment was actually somewhere between 15 and 20 hours. That was when the realization struck me: Either I write something about this damn game, or Dracula's curse follows me into the grave.

The year is 1479. Though Dracula was destroyed by Trevor Belmont and his allies, the dark lord's curse ravages the surrounding countryside still. Seemingly all of Europe has been plunged into an age of endless pestilence and chaos. It is here that we find Hector. Consumed by revenge, he returns to the realm of darkness he once called home in the hopes of finding the man that orchestrated his fiancée's murder. However, not everything is as it seems. Mysterious individuals stalk his every move, all hinting at a grand scheme that could lead to mankind's destruction. If Hector is to solve this mess, then he's going to need your help. Pick up a controller, fire up that PS2 or PCSX2, and lead him down the path of the Devil Forgemaster. Crush the undead evils, obtain powers beyond comprehension, suffer like I have suffered. 

On paper, Castlevania: Curse of Darkness is everything I could've wanted from a follow-up to Lament of Innocence. The RPG elements that were once abandoned are now at the forefront. Hector doesn't just level-up. He recruits and evolves Innocent Devils (or familiars), all with the ability to level-up and learn new powers. There's now a crafting system where weapons and armor are smashed together from materials that are dropped or stolen from enemies. Stealing is an entire mechanic on its own. Instead of just running up to the nearest fiend and hoping for an RNG blessing, players have to figure out what causes the stealing window to appear and position Hector so he can successfully swipe the goods. It's in my opinion one of the most thoughtful systems to grace the genre. Along with all this, players will explore a larger game-world, fight more bosses, and every moment is accompanied by some of Michiru Yamane's finest work. 

You know exactly what happens every time the words on paper are used. I proceed to go on a massive diatribe about how all the cool stuff is actually totally uncool and contributes to a disastrous game. The only difference this time around is I've nearly forgotten to slide in the other overused word pairing in practice. In all seriousness, my feelings on this product are a mishmash of highs and lows. A lot of what's on paper actually works in practice. Everything surrounding the process of character-building is terrifyingly addictive. It's got that Shin Megami Tensei loop wherein every new area is an opportunity to craft a bunch of new stuff, only this time around I've got a real demon watching my back. 

The Innocent Devil system is an incredibly unique take on Metroidvania and I'd gladly check out any game that attempts something similar. The basic conceit is that besides a double-jump, Hector completely lacks traversal powers. His abilities remain unchanged no matter how many hours you invest. In order for him to reach normally inaccessible locations, he has to rely on his demonic allies. These friendly fiends are divided in six types, though only five are necessary to complete his quest. Fairies unlock treasure chests, battlers open heavy doors, Mages cast puzzle-solving spells, Birds carry their master across chasms, and Devils allow one to slip underneath small crevices. The Innocent Devils are organized into your "deck" and function as both a persistent ally in battle and a means of opening a path forward. The limited deck size and variety of IDs add up to what is essentially your build. You can personalize it however you like with demons whose skills suit your playstyle.

Evolving an Innocent Devil is as simple as feeding it gems that are tied to whichever type of weapon you're using to slay monsters. These evolved forms obtain new abilities that better serve the Forgemaster in combat or unlock even more of the game-world. There's something oddly satisfying about creating an ID specifically to destroy blood skeletons, which rely on their immunity to conventional weapons to keep Hector locked out of a secret room. Iyeti is rather useless in battle, but he's friend-shaped and Hector can ride upon his shoulders. I could describe the other myriad ways this unconventional progression system influences Curse of Darkness, but in the interest of brevity, I have to call it what it is: a missed opportunity. Obtaining the gems needed to achieve certain forms isn't a natural process. Most players are going to spend an inordinate amount of time in a certain late-game room farming skeletons until they've gotten the IDs to a point where they can access the rest of the hidden treasures and clear the optional combat challenges. 

In the end, I suppose it's all just philosophical differences. The ID system was designed first and foremost for combat; traversal skills are just a bonus. More to the point, these are not the mostly inconsequential familiars that inhabit the likes of SOTN, Sorrow, or Bloodstained. Build an Innocent Devil up and it'll annihilate whatever gets in your way. Every type of demon has access to some incredibly powerful skills, and they're often beefy or evasive enough to fend for themselves. Having a mage that can drop a screen-wiping star or a demonic samurai that slices up bosses is positively lovely. It almost makes me forget that the moment-to-moment combat is a step down from the previous game... almost. 

Lament of Innocence didn't have the deepest combat, largely due to its pitiful enemy variety. However, it was convincing and satisfying to engage in. Learning the intricacies and utilizing advanced techniques such as perfect guard led to encounters that were consistently fun. Curse of Darkness got the enemy variety, but everything else was compromised. No matter what he's wielding, Hectors attacks are stiff and lack gratification. Instead of short yet consistently executable combos, he has a long attack string with a plethora of finishers, but nothing stays alive along enough for any of them to matter. Even while "locked-on" it's painfully easy to whiff a lot of moves, limiting the viability of any weapon that's neither fast nor has a horizontal slash. This game's constant desire for more came at a pretty huge cost.

Besides utterly disappointing, there's not much else I can say about the combat. Hang on, there are still bosses to discuss, and they're all quite decent. I'd refrain from giving them too much praise, and that's mostly due to how much they vary in difficulty. Before continuing, I'd say it's well-established that delivering strong boss battles is particularly difficult in a subgenre where players are always finding new ways to break everything in seconds. Both Harmony of Dissonance and Portrait of Ruin have a technique called "damage-stacking". Once you master it, almost every boss devolves into a speed bump. I'll give credit to this game for designing bosses that have unique traits and abilities. If you're trying to steal their rare treasure, then that leads to more opportunities for them to show off their large repertoire of attacks. Mainly, I believe my issue with them is simply a matter of numbers. The mid to late-game features a series of surprisingly tough battles against archfiends that hit like a truck. Players, believing that the end-game battles will be even harder, spend extra time building up Hector's stats and IDs. What happens next is that the final bosses are quickly slaughtered. I can't get too hung up on this. It's a tricky balance to get right. Also, I could try playing on the "Crazy" difficulty for what is sure to be a real challenge, but we both know that's never going to happen.

This leads to the part of the game that buries all its other qualities, both the fantastic and the middling. Do you remember how I gave Lament of Innocence a bunch of shit for its constant deluge of hallways & rooms? Curse of Darkness takes that number and modifies it exponentially. The entire game is just corridors leading into hallways leading into... corridors leading... into... more hallways. Those instances where I'm expected to do anything besides run forward are as rare as Crissageims. Even the previous game tried doing things besides locking its protagonist in a room and filling it full of monsters. There were jumping puzzles, using the whip to reach platforms, and... it all feels so far away now. 

Leon Belmont's method for moving at any speed besides sloth involved duping glitches and axe-charge spam. Hector doesn't even have that going for him. If this man had a car, he'd be driving 10 kph on a 45 kph street. He's so consumed by revenge that it has taken the form of a giant boulder and chained itself around his neck. It's invisible at first, but after a dozen hours you too will see it plain as day and it will crush your spirit. I can't understand it. Would the game be broken if this guy ran like he gave a damn about anything? The same applies to unlockable vampire killer Trevor. Just the thought of watching him jog through countless tubes of rock and dirt for hours sickens me.

The excruciatingly slow running speed is abetted by every hallway being nearly infinite in length. Again, I don't know what this accomplishes. Whatever constitutes good pacing died the second Hector took his first step. Stretching that into infinity does nothing besides break my brain. Worse still, it's not like there's much to look at. This game's abundance of flat lighting and boring backdrops creates an experience that can only be described as dull enough to kill. 

Imagine trekking through nearly eight floors of this shit.

At one point in Dracula's Castle, I wanted to hunt to steal some Sun Tears from Efreets so I could make the weapon necessary to unlock the hidden ID Pumpkin-type. Now this castle is big, but like every other location, it's big in every which way except good. Also, as you've no doubt noticed, its layout is halls and rooms shift + inserted ad nauseum. Efreets are located somewhere in the middle floors. Not exactly a convenient farming location, but I figured I could make do. Embarrassingly, I somehow got turned around and ended up heading right back where I started. Once the realization hit me, my mind went straight to "Fuck this. I'd better just finish the game." 

There's a lot in Castlevania: Curse of Darkness that makes me tolerate what should've been intolerable. It's because I know that there's a kindred spirit within. Whatever this being is, it knows exactly what I want to see in a video game. Having so personalized an experience is like having a hole in the wall that was made for me. Finally, a place where I fit in, or so I thought. If this game hadn't decided to double down on all of its predecessor's flaws, it's possible that my entire outlook on gaming could've been shaped into something that my pitiful vocabulary wouldn't have dared to put words to. Who knows? Maybe The Scarlet Engagement will combine absurdist mechanics with non-glacial pacing, sending my soul away to a world of endless bliss, or at least that place in the wall where I can finally know comfort.

Turbografx-16 Look - New Adventure Island

Master Higgins just can't catch a break. Evil forces crashed his wedding and kidnapped his entire family. Rightly pissed off and ready to rock, he embarks on another trip around the isles to crush a scourge unlike any he's faced before. Funny thing is, I can't put too much emphasis on the word unlike, because this game is designed to be reminiscent of the 1986 classic that started it all. Our hero won't be riding dinosaurs or solving puzzles or doing anything that could be identified as non-linear. At the same time however, I can't call this the "back-to-basics" instalment. There are numerous changes, upgrades, surprises, and... well... plenty of new to go around. Basically, if you tried the first Adventure Island but couldn't get into it, then you absolutely must give New Adventure Island a shot. I was always sort-of disinterested in the original, but this lit my fire and convinced me that the series is worth digging into.

This adventure takes place over the course of six islands, each containing four stages. Throw in the obligatory final battle with the big bad that started this BS and you've got a quest that almost feels svelte compared to what came before. Judging games by the amount of content is most definitely a no-no, but I can understand anyone side-eyeing the fact that the Turbografx-16 entry is orders of magnitude smaller than the two NES instalments that sandwich it. Thankfully, Now Production wisely focused on making a set of refined and replayable stages. They emphasize speed as well as a masterful understanding of Master Higgins strengths and weaknesses. They're also efficient in their design, often rewarding players with a strong grasp on the fundamentals. Platforms of the moving or falling variety are commonplace, while any gimmicks are designed with grace. You know how it is; what's learned in stage 1 still applies 20 stages later. Mainly the execution gets tighter, and more is demanded from the player. 

The central idea is that Master Higgins is a man in constant motion. He's seriously unable to stand still. This is further reinforced by the constantly draining food gauge. It's that green bar in the upper-left corner. Adventure Island 3 would get pretty stingy with the fruits, which are essential to keeping the gauge topped off. This entry reverses it. There's more than enough food, but it disappears 3 or 5 seconds after materializing. Naturally, players are obligated to apply precise bursts of speed to obtain the fruit and get around any obstacles. In another departure from series norms, it's actually possible to backtrack for a little bit. A convenient feature that's best used to a set up a difficult series of jumps, better avoid a creature's onslaught, or grab that egg you just missed.

Every isle is populated with the wildlife that has lost their ever-loving minds. All of your old foes are here: bats, birds, skulls, frogs, pigs, more frogs, snakes. They're series staples and doing whatever's necessary to slow your progress or outright murder you. Depending on your chosen weapon, it's fairly simple to eliminate most hazards before they become hazardous. Get into the routine of jumping and tossing axes when you're not certain of what's next. While sneak-attacks are practically nonexistent, New Adventure Island will play with expectations. Wolves normally run in from behind, prompting players to jump on reaction. Blue wolves however will jump, punishing those who have settled into routine.

A key aspect that should dissuade you from frequently tossing weapons is how they halt Higgins' momentum. Several chasms are designed so that the hero running at full speed can just barely clear it with a jump. Tossing an axe or an arrow means the finger must leave the run button for fraction of a second. It's more than enough time to eat away at that momentum and cause an untimely death. A quirk of the jumping controls, but one you'll have to respect. Enemies typically aren't placed near long jumps, so it's not like the game purposefully attempts to cheat lives away.

I like what they did with the bosses here. Yeah, they're large and non-descript dudes (aside from their heads) but they all have a unique attack that must be handled with extra care. I say extra care because boss stages don't have checkpoints, so every mistake results in another trip through a nasty obstacle course. Speaking of boss stages, they tend to be the most consistent (or repetitive) of anything else in the game. I'm guessing the idea here is that since the entirety of it must be completed at once, the level-designer didn't want to commit to anything that would distract players who are struggling to learn the boss's pattern. The sentiment is appreciated, but it is odd that this series chooses anything besides having checkpoints before a boss. 

Overall, I really like what New Adventure Island's approach to level-design. There is a gradual yet noticeable uptick in difficulty when reaching a new island, and that's coupled with the subtle introduction of new obstacles. I never feel blindsided by something that comes from out of nowhere, but at the same time there is this creeping tensity in going from the overly familiar to the completely unknown. The focus on core essentials was also the right call. While I enjoy finding dinosaurs and secret bonuses in the other games, there is something very real in using nothing but finesse and acquired knowledge to complete stages. With every playthrough, I gain more confidence in my abilities and make riskier plays - like running under purple frogs - because I know that they'll work. 

The prevalence of large point rewards and score-based extends also do a fine job of fueling the all-important serotonin gauge. Netting a cool 5,000 points if Higgins can hang onto his skateboard for the entire stage is a good reward and a really entertaining challenge. I want to give a special mention to stage 3-2, because it's a phenomenal showcase of everything that makes this entry work. Playing well isn't clearing the screen of baddies; it's swiftly moving around them and maintaining that momentum. Weaving through a relentless deluge of obstacles, all the while dealing with the physics of riding a skateboard on ice, and reaching the goal without so much as a scratch? It's a beautiful thing.

Granted, a scratch is all it takes to eliminate Higgins, but you get my meaning.

I believe there's nothing else to talk about here.

So, until the next review... Try to set aside time for this extremely solid entry in the Adventure Island saga. Or just play whatever you like. It doesn't matter that much to me as long as you're playing something.

Sega Genesis Look - Atomic Runner

Chelnov, you can't keep running in and out of my life. A review of your game has to be written, right now. In the summer of 1992, Data East remade their popular run & gun for the Sega Genesis. Yes, I'm using the word remade instead of ported, because they did not have to go all out like they did. You know something though? I'm here for it. Atomic Runner is one of the most visually interesting games on the platform. Every stage is packed with astonishing details, evoking a world steeped in culture being twisted by malevolent forces that border on incomprehensible. Also yes, I've decided that this game falls under the category of run & gun. That's literally all the hero does for 35 minutes, provided of course you don't steer him into an early grave. 

If you want to be pedantic - and who doesn't? - then feel free to classify this game as an auto-scrolling platformer shooter. The rules are basic, and the nuances are plentiful. It's exactly what everyone wants out of entertainment software that debuted in arcades. From the beginning of the stage to until he reaches the boss, Chelnov is in a constant state of movement. You can move him forward or backwards. He'll only fire in the direction he's facing, so keep an eye on his back at all times, pressing C to turn around when necessary. The jump is a fixed height and increases in power whenever you grab a "J". Holding forward and hitting jump will perform a sweet flip, allowing the hero to fire up to eight directions in quick succession. Pressing down will crouch. Firing while crouched is one of the ways you can get an increased rate of fire. However, since the game almost never stops moving, Chelnov will be dragged towards the left end of the screen. You'll want to stay semi-close to the center as often as possible. Whether they walk across the ground or fly through the air, enemies attack from both sides. 

Oh, and if pressing a button to change directions is a little awkward for you, then run to the options and try out some other control schemes. One of them maps "fire left" and "fire right" to different buttons on the game pad. Huh. I didn't expect to be reminded of Deathsmiles. Oh well.

While I could describe all of the obtainable weapons, list their pros & cons, and do what I can to pad this review out; I've decided to save all parties a lot of trouble. Pick up the boomerang and hold it close like the two of you are lovers. This is for all intents and purposes, the most useful weapon in the game. Boomerangs erase bosses in seconds. Their range is also quite good. Striking down adversity before it gets the opportunity to break your stride is an essential part of survival after all. Perhaps the coverage isn't amazing, but I've yet to run into situations where an enemy was able to weave in-between boomerangs and land a hit. 

You're welcome to try the other weapons, and perhaps you might settle on one that suits a particular playstyle. I'd say that the spiked spread-shot is a solid choice for more aggressive players. Its range is short, but the trade-off is that it kills everything just a little bit faster. Besides, you should be constantly moving anyway... Wait. uhh... I mean that you should be constantly moving while you're constantly moving. Agency is extremely important here. What doesn't kill Chelnov could push him towards a disadvantageous position. I already insinuated that the corners are the worst places to be, and you'll likely need additional time to react to danger. Unlike the average shmup, dodging a projectile is often not as "simple" as moving to the left or right. Still, I can't imagine most experienced gamers struggling in the early stages, unless they decided to go straight to the hard difficulty with the rapid-fire turned off.

In Atomic Runner, bullets are just one of the many forms that death takes. Large walking insectoids fling their shields the instant they're killed. Mecha rabbits love hopping onto the unwary from just offscreen. The most average grunt can still cause problems thanks to the fact that they run, jump, and fire a gun. While all this is going on, you're expected to do some platforming as well as avoid or destroy obstacles. The limitations of Chelnov's movement also become apparent, though not in a way I'd consider detrimental. A lot of what makes this game so memorable is its unique controls and mechanics. 

Something else that I haven't even touched on yet is that the hero can destroy enemies simply by jumping on them. Giving evil a stomp like some turtle-smashing plumber is a valid strategy. I can't even begin to explain just how much I appreciate this, but I'll give it a shot anyway. Besides firing while somersaulting, jumping on them is the only consistent method for dealing with enemies below Chelnov. This creates a level of dynamism not often seen in the genre. Trying to spend equal amounts of time in the air and on the ground to ensure everything dies results in a series of contrasting situations. Having a technique that's so out there yet also integral bridges together the two halves in a fun way. The game learns into this fun mechanic later on with sections where he must bound from foe to foe to avoid falling in a pit. One other detail worth mentioning is that the safest way to defeat a shield-carrying insectoid is to jump on its head, guaranteeing that their last-ditch attack will miss entirely. 

Since this is a checkpoint-based runner, deaths tend to be extra costly. Along with getting thrown back a short distance, Chelnov is stuck with his basic peashooter. Recovery usually isn't a huge ordeal, but occasionally the cause of death can be a little suspect. This brings me to a particularly annoying moment in stage 4. There will be times where the hero has to fall from a ledge into the area below. However, during this short period, it's impossible to move. If this sounds like a potentially fatal issue, then that's because it is. 

It's just like you could've imagined: A helpless protagonist falling onto a bullet during one of the extremely few instances where his agency is taken away from him. Don't do what I did merely run off of the ledge. Take a big leap so that you'll land in-between this pillar and a second that's just offscreen. Alternatively, there's a gap just before all this that Chelnov can fall down, allowing him to get rid of this pillar before it creates trouble. Atomic Runner doesn't give me a lot to nitpick about, which makes the oversights like this situation in stage 4 honestly shocking.

One debacle isn't enough for me to categorize the game as anything resembling unfair. Players are allowed to give themselves a few extra lives and enough continues to choke a... a large continue-eating animal, I guess. Probably should've thought that last bit out better. Basically, anyone hopping into this for the first time has plenty of attempts to overcome whatever is keeping them from reaching the next stage, or at least the next checkpoint. The bosses are sometimes tricky to deal with but are melted down in seconds. Players might not vibe with the lack of protracted battles. Personally speaking, this game is at its best when Chelnov is actively running. 

Considering that one of its recent appearances was on the Sega Mega Drive Mini 2, it's clear to me that there are many out there who hold Atomic Runner in high regard. I can certainly understand why. Even if you take away the incredible art-direction and great soundtrack, you'll still have a wonderful blend of running & shooting action. Very few games dare to be this different and fewer still make it look as natural as a Sunday morning jog. 

They did a hell of a job on the Statue of Liberty too.

Playstation 2 look - Castlevania: Lament of Innocence

Today's look is at a perfectly adequate game that I'd be happy with never playing again. 2003's Castlevania: Lament of Innocence isn't bad in the slightest. If anything, it's aged remarkably well for a 3D action-adventure. The combat has strong fundamentals, offering both i-frames and a perfect guard system. Allowing players to tackle the first five dungeons in any order is wonderfully old-school. The real-time inventory system is Dark Souls before Demon's Souls was ever a thing. I even like that the secrets are more esoteric than usual, although it meant spending the latter half of my playthrough flipping through a guide while loudly alternating between "Seriously!?" and "How could I have ever found this myself?" Unreal... To be outsmarted by a game with such Shakespearean dialogue as "I'll kill you AND the night!" Either I appreciate the humility, or I have a humiliation fetish.

Point is, there's a lot that this game does right, but I'm trying to get as far away from it as possible, because I know that I'd hate ever having to replay it. For starters, there are an unrealistic number of hallways to run through. Complaints about an Igavania with too many hallways mean as much as complaints that the water is too wet but hear me out for a little longer. The hallways here require a commitment. They take an unusually substantial amount of time to run through. Necessitating a button-press to enter the door on the other side is a minor inconvenience that eventually transforms into a railroad spike that's continually pounded into my cerebral cortex. I'm annoyed by empty hallways, yet I'm also annoyed when there are monsters wandering through them. 

Part of the blame lies with Leon Belmont and his pitiful speed. The man runs like a Vampire kidnapped somebody else's bride-to-be. This issue would be mitigated by the wolf's foot relic and the axe + green orb skill, if either were tied to easily replenishable resources instead of MP or hearts. Now I could utilize the dupe glitch to give myself an endless fount of whatever's needed to make treks through infinite hallways easier to stomach. I could... but you already know that I won't. Also, I'm very sorry that this review couldn't survive three paragraphs without getting lost in the fog. The discussion has jumped from corridors to mid-game abilities to duping an endless supply of jewels that'll break an otherwise solid game into tiny pieces. 

Where I think all these words are leading me is that the secret to making Castlevania: Lament of Innocence a tolerable replay flies in the face of my beliefs. If I want to zip through the most mind-numbing obstacles, then I have to rely on exploits that trivialize the game. Either I don't cheat and suffer Leon jogging through the castle, or I end up with an infinite supply of everything. Couldn't there have been some sweet movement tech instead? Like maybe a backflip-cancel? All I want is some weird inputs to perform that'd make getting around faster and more interesting. 

At least a portion of this review should be devoted to everything that happens between the halls, so let's change the subject. Rooms are essentially an excuse to shove a bunch of monsters into an enclosed space, prompting Leon to whip their undead carcasses until the music changes and the doors unlock. Before I sidetracked myself, I admitted that the combat fundamentals here are strong, a statement that I'll gladly take to the grave. The vampire hunter learns new attack skills at a consistent pace, and unlike... say... God of War, he'll actually make use of them all. There's a satisfying amount of feedback, especially when certain foes explode into a mess of blood. The bosses are all pretty great as well. They're probably the most I've ever enjoyed a "Castlevania in 3D" fight. Besides looking great, each archfiend has a unique move-set and tends to require a particular strategy. Their moves change as the fight progresses, which is always lovely to see. 

Also impressive is the wide assortment of subweapon skills. Axe + green orb is of course essential for traversal, but it's also a great charge attack for smashing crowds. Abilities such as axe tornados, triple throwing-daggers, or cross-shaped shockwaves are all tied to the player's current subweapon & orb combination. I couldn't begin to suggest a tier list or anything of that sort, but there was rarely a skill that I thought needed a buff or nerf. Also, since orbs are dropped from defeated bosses, the order you tackle each dungeon will affect what skills you have to work with. It's a subtle yet welcome way to inject replay-value. 

Variety however is a weakness that this game can't overcome. Change the color of their bones or give them a helmet, but skeletons will always be skeletons, prone to performing the same functions whether it's minute 1 or hour 6. Besides them, players can expect to find evil dogs of multiple flavors, large-armored knights, and maybe four or so other enemy types that become increasingly uninteresting. Considering the always-hellish nature of game development, I should be more forgiving of poor enemy variety. I should be...but maybe another day. Perhaps this feeling would've changed if fights took place in locales besides flat empty rooms. There are, of course, exceptions, but not enough to matter. 

If you can believe it, somewhere underneath these criticisms is a very real love for Castlevania: Lament of Innocence. I just don't think I'd have the patience to sit through it again. This is entirely due to the repetitive series of hallways and rooms that make up the sheer bulk of it. Everything else lands in the realm of damn good, and that's not even accounting for the excellent audiovisual aspects. I'll say that this game deserves at least one full playthrough.   

NES Look - Power Blade

Today, I'm looking at one of the several "Action Dude Man" games that were released for the Nintendo Entertainment System. Fans of the 8-bit console are bound to have played at least one of the titles belonging to this made-up subgenre, but for everyone else, let me give you a quick primer: Imagine your favorite 80s action movie hero starring in a video game that didn't suck. The dude of today goes by the name Nova. He wears a tank-top to show off his impressive physique, and sunglasses because he's emotionally vulnerable they kick ass. Also, I'm not 100% certain, but I think he also goes by NOVA. Is his name an acronym? It probably stands for something totally rad like Norton Omega Variable Assault or Nitro Oxen Ventilator Aaron.

Nova is the lord of the ancient Power Blade, one of the finest examples of a boomerang in video game history. It does everything except fly through walls and pick up faraway power-ups. You'll be relying on this immaculate curved piece of awesomeness as well as Nova's gifts for jumping, ducking, and ladder-climbing. While you're exploring the stage for the necessary ID card to open the boss door, keep a second or third eye out for any power armor that's lying around. Until he takes three hits, Armored Dude Man cuts through everything with wall-piercing blasts. Healing rations and screen-clearing grenades are also found throughout, so stock up whenever you can. Grenades are particularly useful since all it takes is a little timing and they'll destroy most bosses before they have a chance to appear. I mean, not that you'd need to rely on a glitch to win. Unlike the Castlevanias, Mega Mans, and (maybe) Ninja Gaidens this game was inspired by, a normal playthrough is hardly what I'd consider a struggle.

As much as they'd like to pretend otherwise, Natsume knew exactly what buttered their bread. Play this side-scrolling platformer for long enough and you'll start seeing a lot of familiar faces. The skeletons of abandoned androids will crumble the second you bash them, only to re-assemble themselves a few seconds later. Smaller bots will home in on the nearest human or try to confuse them by flying in a wave-like pattern. Invincible mechs that scoot across the ground will only leave themselves open to attack if they sense someone within range of their cannons. Visuals aside, the only difference between these robots and what you've faced in similar games is the fact that the Power Blade cuts through them like house-brand tissue paper. To put it another way, this is exactly what would happen in a Castlevania game if Simon's cross could fly in eight directions, didn't cost any hearts, and was inexplicably more overpowered.

The seven boss battles that you'll contend with are very unlikely to induce stress, and that's if you haven't already erased them with the grenade glitch mentioned earlier. Most are done in with repeat boomerangs to their hard-to-miss frames. The only possible chance they have of being a threat is if you arrived at their lair with half or less health and no rations. I'm sorry, but that's a statistical impossibility. Even when accounting for the oddly short invulnerability period, the frequency of hamburgers is an assurance that you're never leaving an area without maximum health. 

I've talked about perfect rentals before, but this right here is what I'd consider to be the dream rental. It has all the ingredients necessary to make a fun weekend. The level of difficulty is as close to comfy as the genre will allow, with its hardest bits often involving death-defying leaps. Tasking the player with finding a contact is a very clever idea. It teaches the values of exploration and creating routes. The variety of alternate paths adds a tinge of replay-value as well. Above all that, I believe the most important aspect of this game is how it's designed to make players feel good. There is a remarkable amount of positive feedback whenever they accomplish a goal. No doubt being a dream rental would affect the game's bottom-line, which is all the more reason I commend everyone involved for not removing continues, having enemies do 1/4th of Nova's health in a single hit, or some other cynical nonsense. A video game, at least one made during the height of the NES's popularity, has to be enjoyable. Tampering with that most essential quality isn't going to win over anyone. 

For those out there desperate for some extra spice, there is the Expert Mode. Before you ask, this is not the 1-hit kill maniacs-only setting. It's actually milder than expected, as there are only two noticeable changes. The clock has been cut from 999 seconds to 300-350. This is a pretty significant change, especially for those out there who haven't memorized the locations of contacts and/or boss doors. Semi-optimal play is going to eat up about 100 to 150 of those seconds, which leaves some room for errors. However, if you're getting turned around often or continuously farming hamburgers to top Nova's health off, then time won't be on your side. Routing a path to the contact and then the boss, while allowing a detour or two to grab some power armor, lends Power Blade some much-appreciated depth. The other change is knockback. You already know what that is but look below if you need a refresher.

Nova getting knocked out of the air and into the abyss.

The closest this game could get to a Maniac Mode is if you decided (for some unholy reason) to refrain from picking up power-ups entirely. That means sticking with a powerless Power Blade for the entirety of the adventure. Isn't that how it was in Power Blazer, the Famicom game that this is based on? Yeesh! No wonder so many people hate it. Actually, I take that back. The original didn't have eight-way directional throwing either. What Randy Struddard* did to turn this game around and make into a classic is nothing less than miraculous. 

Power Blade is one of many NES games that I consider to be a required play. It's nowhere near the deepest or toughest, but it excels at everything it sets out to do. Nova is the perennial example of Action Dude Man. It's not just the look, but also the way he carries himself. Outside of very specific circumstances, he can't be easily defeated. The weapon he expertly wields is top-of-the-line mecha-slashing greatness. Also, since I'm 67 out of 100 on assumptions, I'm going to say that he isn't the toxic type who has dreadful opinions about any subject that isn't boomerangs. I say this because he grew up in a colony without war, and since wars are always started by men being utter shits... It's a not uneducated assumption!

*In his review of Power Blade, Twentieth Century Gamer attributed its exceptional quality to the efforts of Randy Struddard, a former Nintendo employee who was working at Taito's U.S. branch. Give this review a read the next time you have a moment. It's quite superb. 

2026 Special - Tina's Adventure Island 3

Wait. This is Spirited Away, isn't it?

Master Higgins has been kidnapped by invaders from another world! Taking control of his girlfriend Tina, players will have to face their toughest island adventure yet. No seriously, this threequel doesn't mess around, offering up more intense hop & throw action than ever. Now Production - makers of Adventure Island 2 - has refined their formula quite a bit. While I'd argue their previous game never felt like it was 80+ stages long, the developer thought otherwise. Each of the eight areas now has around six stages to contend with instead of nine or more. Ultimately, this was the right call. Besides the eerily similar water stages, there are far fewer repeats than before. Running out of lives and having to continue is also much less punishing.

I'm not going to get into the gameplay basics, because... well... they haven't changed in the slightest. Tina runs from left to right and jumps with the greatest of ease. The pick-up & playability is near-instantaneous, which is always important in games where the protagonist loses their life from something as inconsequential as a thrown pillow. The newest addition to Tina's repertoire is the duck. Yep, it took her three games to master the art of crouching to avoid projectiles or bash enemies low to the ground. I shouldn't be so rude to her. She's practically valedictorian compared to the likes of Mega Man. How many of his games were released until he finally realized that making himself a smaller target might result in easier robot-hunting? Fifteen!? 

Oops! There I go getting side-tracked once again. Let's just move on to the rest of the added features. The most interesting of them all is the boomerang. This is an entirely new weapon that serves as a quasi-upgrade to the hammer. "Quasi"... huh. Well, it was either this or upgrade*, because mastering the art of curved stick requires a game-long effort. At first, it sounds like nothing but advantages. Unlike hammers, boomerangs can destroy rocks. Their ability to be thrown in two different directions makes it easier to handle airborne threats. They also do double the damage. However, only one boomerang can be onscreen at a time, and waiting for it to return creates a sizable opportunity for a creature to sneak in and take the heroine's life. 

Taking into consideration its strengths and weaknesses, I believe that the boomerang is intended for use by advanced players who have already conquered the game and are looking for a new way to challenge themselves. This weapon is actually quite solid at helping its thrower maintain their momentum. Hammers are generally reserved for the cautious types who want to clear away adversaries the second they appear onscreen. Maniacs are still welcome to ignore weapons altogether and run straight for the goal. Such a task has been made even more difficult than before, so uh... good luck with it.

The dinosaurs are back! Not that I expected they'd go anywhere, but it's lovely to see them anyway. Besides allowing Tina one extra hit before disappearing, these slightly overgrown lizards have unique talents to hopefully make adventures a little easier. Some even aid with traversal, like the fire-breathing dinosaur that survives in lava and toxic marshes. However, in case anyone has already forgotten, Tina getting kicked off of her ride doesn't allow her a second of invulnerability to recover. Losing both ride and life at practically the same time is just something to be mindful of. Anyhoo, the new dinosaur has a rolling spin-attack that is performed in midair or on the ground. Hmm... there's something familiar about it... meh whatever. This dino is fine for regular stages, but its inability to bounce off of a boss after a successful rolling attack all but guarantees its extinction.

Tempting as it may be to hoard dinosaurs like so many elixirs and first-aid sprays, my suggestion is to take advantage of their abilities whenever you can. Adventure Island 3 has been balanced with the expectation that its players will be riding a dinosaur of their choosing. This can work against someone looking for a carefree time. Trying to fly a pterodactyl over very obstacle could lead to being swarmed by lightning-bolt spitting clouds. In every other case, they'll appreciate an extra set of claws. Additional dinos are more common and frequently awarded to anyone thorough enough in their search for secret eggs. Being allowed an extra hit, even with the potential drawbacks it brings with, is a massive boon. 

Like I mentioned a long, long time ago, this entry is the toughest yet. Some of the most ridiculous enemies have been toned down, and volcanoes are placed in the background instead of underfoot. This eliminates what I'd consider to be the cheaper deaths. To counter what could've been a drop in difficulty, the developers have designed stages that are tighter, more demanding, and lacking in sustenance. The food gauge / time limit is a constant factor, more than ever really. Oftentimes, you can't afford to waste a second or miss a piece of fruit. 

The meanest stages are often a series of chasms, volcanoes raining hellfire from above, and frogs. I think frogs might be the most vicious of all the creatures in this game. They always manage to be in the worst place at the worst time, waiting for their chance to strike. Seeing them in the final stage is what led me to understand that they are in fact the destroyers of worlds and shouldn't ever be underestimated.  

Boss battles have also seen a significant uptick. Gone are the large targets that merely spit a few bullets at predetermined points. Now there are patterns to learn, strategies to form, and multiple types of attacks to avoid. Just below, you'll see a giant crab with a swinging flail for a claw. This is a much more involved fight than simply "avoid that spiked ball-looking thing". Whenever it strikes, the crab will also cause iced stalactites to fall from above. If your positioning and movement isn't ideal, you could end up getting trapped by falling objects or clipped by the spinning flail. Ice physics are absolutely a factor as well. However, if you're something of a professional with the pterodactyl, you can fly in a circle and pelt the crab from above. With enough practice, you can destroy the fiend without even seeing a stalactite. 

The key point that I want to hammer home is that although this is a particularly hard entry in an already challenging series, you are never without agency. Your options are not limited to hop & throw. Dinosaur friends are plentiful, which provides numerous options for every stage and boss. The enemy pool is limited enough that it's easy to memorize what is most likely to appear in each stage. You're never blindsided by creatures appearing out of thin air. Once they're onscreen, you have choices. Bosses also have set patterns, and they become a lot easier once you notice them. Spoiler alert! Take the final boss for example. At first, he seems pretty imposing with the two fakes that he shares the arena with. The trick is that there is no trick. The real alien moves between locations in a clockwise pattern: right, left, up, repeat. 

Tina's Adventure Island 3 is exactly what you want out of a sequel. You get more of what you loved about the previous game, but without any of the bloat. The extraneous or unworkable elements were erased entirely, leaving behind a fantastic action-platformer that's packed with depth and replay-value. It expects a lot out of its players yet is also very generous with rewards. If you've got the patience, then you're going to have a great time.

Nintendo DS look - Castlevania: Dawn of Sorrow

I'm just going to come out and say it: I treat Castlevania: Dawn of Sorrow as if I was playing a Shin Megami Tensei game. Whenever I reach a new area of the Dark Lord's Castle, I start hunting all of the monsters in the vicinity for their souls. Maybe there's some light exploration involved, but I don't commit to a direction until I've exhausted the screen of anything worth collecting. Some of these souls are taken to Yoko, so that she'll fuse synthesize them into weapons. Eventually, I reach a point where I'm satisfied with my current setup and proceed to seek out the boss. This predictable yet addictive cycle continues until the credits roll.

There is a feeling of over-familiarity that pervades this entry in the Nintendo DS trilogy. After so much time and so many playthroughs, I have lost sight of what compels me to repeat the adventure. Its form has changed so dramatically over the years that I no longer see the Metroidvania. What I'm seeing instead is an amorphous creature. I shape it to fit my whims, and in return it nestles within the nethermost region of my skull, feeding upon the time I continuously fail to do anything productive with. After the credits roll, the creature is expelled, and almost immediately I question what it was that I actually saw in our creation. 

Disgust is too harsh a word, but I must be frank that I strongly dislike this game's flavor. Other descriptions that I'd consider too harsh are banal, or the product of a committee, yet the fact that they cross my mind is not something I can ignore. It starts with the music, particularly the first few notes that play in the opening area. They feel like heavily saturated grime dribbled into my ears. The rest of the soundtrack fares only slightly better. Compositionally, it's fine; serviceable synths strung together into adequate arrangements. Underneath however, there is nothing. I've listened countless times over numerous playthroughs for a melody that sang to me. Did I ever hear it? Of course not. Instead, I get these earworms (derogatory) that are frustratingly dull, but never to the point where I want to mute the game and find some actual music to accompany the soul-farming. 

Visually, it's all whatever to me. Everything looks fine, nothing stands out. The most interesting portions of the game are in the very beginning and very end. Snow-capped vans situated next to extremely rustic houses hint at what could've been. I also appreciate the surrealistic nightmare realm with the freakin' sweet knives embedded in the walls. All of the castle in-between occupies a dread space where there's neither enough gothic nor modern aesthetics to capture my imagination. It's the interactions with monsters and toying around with their souls that breathe life into each screen. 

Yes, here's the part where I start paying Castlevania: Dawn of Sorrow some actual compliments. Its attention to creature details is so deep that I'm still making random discoveries. Skeleton Apes, whose sole contribution is tossing their barrel at Soma, will elbow him in the solar plexus when he attempts to sneak up behind them. Every soul that the protagonist makes use of has personality. The mini-Soma that rides Quetzalcoatl is cute as heck. Calling upon Persephone and her vacuum to suck projectiles and HP totally rules. Summoning homunculi, cats, or even Gaibon to crush adversity? Fantastic stuff. I can't forget about Dmitrii Blinov and his ability to copy any soul that's thrown at him. In my most recent playthrough, I tossed a Yorick's skull at him, then proceeded to stab the smug jerk repeatedly as he spammed a fruitless counterattack. It's all these little touches that help make the farming process manageable. 

Although the back of the box typically describes Disgaea as an SRPG, I've always thought of it as a cross between a puzzle game and a logistics simulator. To put it another way, I'm always looking for a more efficient grinding method. Arranging the troops to perform a specific set of commands, eliminating several monsters in an instant, and keeping turns to a minimum. This... this is exactly what I see in Dawn of Sorrow. Whenever there's a specific soul or rare drop that I want to farm, I don't just hunt down the enemy that carries it, I hunt them down with efficiency. Everything from the location to the soul-set to the number of moves Soma makes is pared down to the barest of minimums, ensuring that I attain the maximum number of kills in the time I allot myself. It's honestly surprising just how addictive finding these perfect farming routes can get. Cutting away the excess maneuvers until there's nothing left but a lean & clean grind. 

When it comes to discussing Dawn of Sorrow's controls, I admit that objectively there's nothing wrong with them. Soma runs, turns, ducks, and jumps with as much grace as a Swan with a dex build. His basic abilities are perfectly natural, demanding a nonexistent level of effort from the player. I say all this, but you already know exactly how I feel. Anything perfectly natural might as well be boredom incarnate. I need an aggressive series of seemingly arcane inputs to keep Soma moving. This game absolutely delivers with multiple flavors of back-dash cancels. By utilizing a constant series of back-dashes and the tiniest of hops, the hero can move noticeably faster. Executing this with any amount of consistency will take a lot of practice. Since I'm being honest though, I'll admit that I'm not a big fan of this movement-tech either. Getting those microscopic hops requires a feather's worth of pressure on the jump button. I prefer the simplicity of getting around in Harmony of Dissonance or even Order of Ecclesia. 

All that said, making any effort to learn the absurd movement tech definitely pays off in combat. Let's take the katana for example, which is the most entertaining weapon in this entry. Normally, the katana has a ton of recovery, since Soma sheathes it after every strike. This animation can be canceled by pressing back-dash + crouch. Part of what makes this technique so enjoyable to learn is the penalty for messing up. There's no canceling out of a crouching attack, so alternating between attack and back-dash + crouch has to be done with precision. Altogether, there's an entire layer of depth that I've never even considered pawing at in spite of the seemingly infinite playthroughs I've sunk into this damnable game. 

Over the years, much has been said about the boss sealing mechanic. I'm of several minds about it myself and have jumped between all of them depending on the time of day. First off, I won't deny that there is - or at least was - a very real thrill in trying to draw a seal with shaking hands after a tough fight. I also appreciate the system M2 came up with for the Dominus Collection, which linked the seal drawing to a series of button-presses. Nowadays however, I just skip the entire thing with Definitive Edition +. This romhack also fixes the luck-stat so that it influences drop-rates and makes several other QOL changes. In my eyes, it's essential. 

With that out of the way, allow me a moment to praise the great boss-fights in this entry. Their unique talents and variety of attacks ensure that they're much more than just a moving target with a lot of HP. I also love how I can use everything available to me to stomp them out quickly or limit my options to create an engaging battle. Maybe next playthrough I'll try to kill the bosses with nothing more than bats and zombies. That'd also give me an opportunity to refine my bat & zombie soul farming strategies. Wow! Castlevania: Dawn of Sorrow is just the game that keeps on giving. Well, maybe it could've given a less-crappy final boss, but I can't get too hung up on that filth. 

Ultimately, I'd say that my relationship with this game is a complicated one. I hate how cloyingly safe it gets. The acid threatens to erupt from my lips every second I spend listening to its music. So much of what I expect to see in a Castlevania is lost in this whirlwind of suffocating blandness. You saw it yourself, didn't you? The part of me that wants to escape this game so badly that I start to imagine I'm playing something else entirely. Yet in spite of everything, I can never start a new file without seeing it through to the end. There is so much mechanical density that I want to engage with it on a molecular level. I love the ridiculous amounts of movement & combat tech, even if the former threatens to worsen my carpal tunnel. I adore the vast array of abilities. Depending on how my day is going, I can choose to try them all or go straight for the SSS overpowered Guillotiner. I am both fascinated and repulsed by everything this product has to offer. 

You should try it sometime if you haven't already.