MUSHA is one of those games. You know what I mean; the kind of games that are so awesome and beloved by all that it's impossible to come up with anything significant to say about them. How am I just going to say "Oh hey guys! Any of ya'll heard of this MUSHA game? It's really neat!" without utterly demeaning myself. Next week I'll post a Playstation Hidden Gems video, and the first game in it will be Final Fantasy 7. Point is, everyone knows that this 1990 Compile shmup rules, so I'd have to come up with something extremely thought-provoking that'd make readers see one of their favorites in a new light.
So... yeah... it looks like I'll be sitting here mindlessly tapping my desk and rustling nonexistent papers for quite some time. Mentally, I'm not where I need to be to take on the herculean effort of saying something nice about a game that hasn't already been said a hundred gazillion times over. Last night was... rough... slightly more-so than usual. While working the same pizza delivery job I've had for too long, somebody ran a red light. I was about a whole second away from getting struck, driver-side, and spending this morning dealing with whatever inconveniences that would've arisen from it. A lifetime of Florida-living has produced more near-misses than Dodonpachi and ESP Ra.De mashed together, so all I can do is brush this incident away. Nothing happened; that's something that I have to hold onto, even though it also means carrying the guilt.
Several real-world minutes have passed since I typed out that last paragraph. My thoughts are currently overwhelmed by the many neighbors, co-workers, and acquaintances who have perished in car accidents. An unshakeable image of a fatal accident I had personally witnessed over fifteen years ago just resurfaced, as well. Right at this moment, my mind is replaying every horrid detail and I can't stop it. Apologies to everyone who just wanted a MUSHA review, but I think (hypothetical) long-time readers have gotten used to the fact that I treat games-writing as an excuse to offload some accumulated depression. My free-trial therapist ended last month and there's not enough in the budget to justify a subscription.
Anyway, this is the part where I ugly transition into describing how the game works and what the controls do. Players take on the role of Terri, the sole survivor of a squad obliterated by offscreen lasers. She pilots the Metallic Uniframe Super Hybrid Armor, an incredibly advanced and highly sophisticated piece of machinery that doesn't explode in a single hit, provided that she's carrying a sub-weapon. This mobile suit's main method of attack is a cannon that spits out energized shuriken. Grabbing enough power-ups will strengthen it multiple times over. Those same power-ups also add to the option stock. Options fire star-shaped bullets in whatever direction you need them to. It's a lot like Battle Garegga, though not nearly as surgical.
If you're not already well-aware, then I'm going to tell you right now that MUSHA is not a complicated STG. It's a power-fantasy through and through. Enemies do not serve some broader function, wherein you chain them together or utilize some mechanic to turn their bullets into priceless jewelry. Their purpose is to be blasted into dust a second or two after they appear onscreen. This game is designed around instant action, the kind where all players have to do is hold the fire buttons down and react to whatever happens next.
Something that I've often said about this game is that it's the perfect pick for anyone curious about shmups, but doesn't have any idea on what to start with. It's a statement I still stand by, well... sort-of. Hell of a time to get a case of the wishy-washies, huh? Seriously though, I'm a bit more hesitant to wholeheartedly recommend this to potential newcomers than I used to be. Mainly, it's because there's so much here that players might end up taking for granted. Being able to take a hit while carrying a sub-weapon, as if it's Sonic the Hedgehog's last ring, is already huge in a genre defined by the one-hit-kill. Shockingly, there's more. Terri's mecha is also special in that it has small hurtbox. I'm not just talking "small by 1990 standards" either, because this thing is tiny!
 |
| Forgive the poor editing. |
That... that right there almost feels illegal. Having a miniscule hurtbox means that players will be able to get away with a lot. Memorization isn't nearly as important as in other shmups, simply because reacting is enough to guarantee survival. Actually, I have to take that back. There are a handful of instances that can be considered "memorization-checks". Enemy homing missiles come in two flavors: white vanilla and black licorice. Vanilla is curvy, fluffy, and easy to get rid of. Licorice however must always be treated with respect. One of the sub-bosses in the final stage alternates between both flavors, creating what is probably one of the most important teaching moments in the entire game.
Still, having to get that far just for a teachable experience is going to create expectations that clash with the norm. Consoles tend to house shmups that are far more forgiving than what's in the arcades, but MUSHA is one that I'd consider on another level. Back in the day, my ten-year-old self flew through it with relatively little trouble, and he was the type of gamer that couldn't get past stage five in Life Force with the 30-lives code! The way I'm speaking right now, you'd almost get the impression that I'm teetering on the edge of not wholeheartedly recommending this game... and God no... I'm sorry for even suggesting such blasphemy.
I sincerely believe MUSHA is one of the best Mega Drive games ever made. It's the essence of effortlessly playable. Compile was one of those developers that could capture lightning in a bottle, then smash that bottle and recapture that lightning just to prove a point. They had an innate knack for piecing together all of the necessities to make a great shooter. I think this is one of those times where they did exactly what they needed to do, then made the right call to step away and move on. It's the restraint that brings everything together, making for a shmup that even the most hardened of hardened veterans can find joy in. Being the gold-standard in terms of presentation certainly doesn't hurt. The action is bolstered by an immense soundtrack and a visual direction that hasn't aged a bit.
Sadly, and not the least bit shockingly, I don't have anything else to add. This STG is one of those rare cases where the developer made it look so easy that false ideas start to formulate. "Why isn't everyone making games this good?" said I from another time, completely ignoring the thousands of moving parts and at-times otherworldly influences that make a product more than just avoiding bullets and blowing shit up. In their toying with a genre built on friction, Compile created what I can only describe as a lightning unicorn. It's so smooth, so breezy, so reassuring, so many things that I'm not supposed to love, and yet... Damn. Like I said, there's nothing I can say.
No comments:
Post a Comment