Arcade Appreciation - Life Force

The year is 1987, and Konami has released Life Force in game centers all over Japan. This version leans harder into the bio-horror themes by changing various graphics. There are more mutants, violent antibiotics, and the kidney stones are pink. Pink! A couple of the stages received different backgrounds, and... that's about the extent of it. The most interesting changes involve the gameplay. First off, the power-up system is Gradius again, which actually works well. Secondly, you can earn extra ships by reaching certain score thresholds. Finally, a number of small tweaks were made. Some of them, like the 4th boss being less absurd, are appreciated. Otherwise, it's almost a replica of Salamander, an arcade shmup we've already seen.

Look, would anyone mind if this review was hijacked by the NES version of Life Force? Otherwise, there's nothing else to talk about. Thanks much.

Life Force NES is a crisp 25-minute shmup, eschewing the relentless pacing of its arcade predecessors for something a little more methodical and occasionally just as punishing. The additional run-time gives the 6 stages additional time to breathe. Obstacles are spaced out a little more, giving players a preview of what to expect, only to then squeeze them until ship and spirit are crushed. This is not a shmup to be underestimated. The Gradius power-up system is utilized here, and opportunities to successfully max out your ship are surprisingly difficult to come by. Power-ups are sparse, and the enemies carrying them can quite easily slip past you. To add to this, a ship at maximum power is still extremely susceptible to collisions. Enemies don't often attempt to fill the screen with bullets. It seems they've realizing that smashing into unsuspecting pilots is a more effective strategy.

This game was one of the first to feature the Konami code. Perform it at the title screen and you'll be gifted a sweet stack of 30 lives. That should be more than enough to save the day. I mean, that's over one life per minute. There's no way that the game could, yeah... it absolutely could. Losing that first ship - especially if it's maxed out - is a lot like getting pushed into a hole. Players prioritize getting out of the hole over everything else, and that leads to more ships getting obliterated. Let's be real here, the game that pushed you into the hole is going to do everything in its power to keep you there, and that's when those 30 lives evaporate. 

Making actual sustainable progress requires a committed player, one willing to memorize the more nuanced details. That includes the seemingly innocuous moments like when & where fireballs spawn in stage 3. Their placement as well as their frequency places them among the deadlier enemies in Life Force. A max-power ship can handle them fairly easily, but as I mentioned earlier, reaching that point is something of a luxury. Aside from occasional dips, the level of difficulty is fairly consistent in its escalation. Whether or not the player is in a hole presents a significant variable. The only way to consistently handle anything that happens is practice. But hey, it's rewarding when you can keep a cool head and survive the worst possible situations.

I also have to show appreciation for the aesthetic direction Konami took this entry. The first three stages are familiar enough, but then the 4th rolls around and re-establishes the bio-horror theme with oddities such as killer cells. The boss being a kickass skull is pretty damn sweet. The 5th stage feels like it was pulled straight out of Gradius, but then leads to Ra's mysterious space temple. There are a lot of welcome surprises here, which lend this port an identity entirely its own.

There is a longevity to Life Force NES that I know isn't lost among the retrogaming community. 8-bit enthusiasts continue to sing its praises even today. All I have to say is that they're right. This shmup has aged like wine. Rather than attempt a straight port, Konami took some chances and ended up with a different but still great take on the Salamander formula. Well, it's not so much a formula as it is a hodgepodge of everything that didn't make it into Gradius, but you know what I mean.

I think?

Arcade Appreciation - Salamander

Today, I'm looking at one of the earliest examples of a "set-piece shmup". Maybe that term actually exists and I didn't just make it up on a whim, but I'm too lazy to check. Basically, it has all of the bullet-dodging and enemy blasting you'd expect. It's just structured so that players are funneled from one set-piece to the next. If you'd ever imagine what it'd be like to fly through an endless field of flames, survive an asteroid field, launch a desperate attack on an alien's home base, then this is... What? You mean you've already experienced these events hundreds of times over? Alright, alright! Give me a break here! It was 1986, way back when such ideas were still novel. Anyway, Salamander tasks its players with surviving six stages of horizontal and vertical scrolling action. 

It's worth noting that this shmup packs a full space adventure into a crisp 15 minutes. Konami designed this game to deliver instant action. The Gradius-system where power-ups are spent to equip various armaments was excised for standard weapon pick-ups. The second you destroy an item-carrying enemy, the most electronic voice you've ever heard says "Pick it up for Multiple." or "Pick it up for Laser." You'll definitely want a full set of multiples (or options), a laser or ripple cannon, and at least one speed-up. If you're shot down, lost multiples can be re-acquired before they fly offscreen, but otherwise deaths are tough to recover from. There aren't any checkpoints, but since the game is always moving at a fast pace, the chances that you'll get blasted while scrambling are fairly high.

Besides the works of Akiragoya, bio-horror is a theme that's rarely explored in shmups, so I was really stoked to see a first stage filled with intestines, sharp bones, and a giant brain for a boss. Everything afterwards isn't quite as impactful, but Salamander still managed a few images that have imprinted themselves permanently upon my psyche. The most notable of which are the huge arcs of fire in stage 3. I never get tired of seeing them, even when they turn my Vic Viper to ash. Stages 2 & 5 are full of asteroids to avoid and ships to shoot. Stage 4 has active volcanos as well as several targets in the air and on the ground. Yes, there's a Xevious-styled bombing system that makes a couple appearances. A bit odd, but I guess that ties back into this being a "set-piece shmup". The final stage features everything from Gradius 1 bosses to a thrilling escape as the walls close in. Semi-random aside, but if you decide to check out the PC Engine port of Salamander, be ready for a potentially nightmarish encounter with jumping Moai heads. Unlike the arcade original, this port has checkpoints, and trying to survive those hopping jokers with default weaponry is an absolute trial.

The one constant in all of these different scenarios is that being in the right spot at the right moment is the key to winning. That's expected of the shmup genre, but I'd argue it goes further than that. The 4th boss can be nearly impossible or impossible to lose, it all depends on where your Vic Viper is positioned at the beginning of the fight. A battalion of bullet-spewing ships will mount a prolonged assault near the end of stage 5, but if you and your multiples are situated just so, then it's nothing to stress over. There is some trial and error at work here, which greatly extends the amount of time needed to finish this 15-minute game. I imagine everyone was a Tower of Druaga fan in 1986, so maybe a little of that game's design philosophy crept into Salamander. 

Anyone who manages to complete the game. First off, congrats are in order, this can be a tough cookie. Secondly, it's time to grit those teeth for the next loop. Interestingly, the second loop isn't just a case of "have some more bullets". Stage 1 features more regenerating walls, and the boss fight takes place in a smaller arena. More surprises await the few players who manage to get further than that. By the way, there aren't any ways to earn extra lives. Maybe this was Konami's method for keeping all the Gradius maniacs out there from practically owning the machine. 

Salamander was brought to the west as Life Force, receiving a slew of cosmetic changes in the process. Now the Vic Viper is entering a gigantic space alien and attempting to destroy its brain. Mr. Speak & Spell now mentions where in the body you're currently at, and to watch out for - among other things - kidney stones. Yeah, so uh... stage 2 is packed to the brim with kidney stones. Stage 4 takes place in the liver, where there are more kidney stones. Then you get to stage 5 and there are kidney stones in the lungs! Wow. Absolutely cursed! You have to appreciate the deep lore here. This gigantic space alien is passing hundreds of stones a minute. These indestructible rocks eventually make their way to random planets, wiping out entire civilizations like a meteor shower. 

Moving on...

Salamander is fine. Totally fine. I'd be a lot less forgiving of this STG's quirks if it came out anytime past 1986. The 4th boss being a total ass unless you know "that one weird trick" is just rude game-design. Everything else? Perfectly solid, as expected of Konami's arcade endeavors. Do make an effort to try the superb PC Engine port. It's a little more forgiving, but not at the expense of a good stiff challenge.

Arcade Appreciation - Gradius

When it comes to shmups, it's always the little things that cause the most trouble. Case in point, the bullet. All it takes is one bullet to send a hyper-advanced prototype spaceship, a psychic teenager, or a poverty-stricken shrine maiden into the afterlife. These tiny orbs of destruction are undoubtedly cause for many gamers to lose their minds. However, they are just one part of the equation. After all, bullets don't simply appear from the ether, unless of course you're playing ESP Galuda 2 for score, but that's another story entirely. What I mean is all the cannons, tanks, planes, and everything else that's capable of firing projectiles. Their mere presence is enough to strike fear in anyone, because the longer they stay onscreen, the higher the tension builds. If these enemies aren't immediately dealt with, they can and will create impossible situations that players can't survive. 

Gradius 1 presents one of the earliest examples of this phenomenon. Every enemy poses a threat. They are capable, resourceful, relentless, and all they need to achieve victory is for one of their bullets to hit your Vic Viper. Take note of the screenshot above. Those walking tanks can and will pursue you for a surprisingly long time, all the while firing bullets. Also, just above is a hopping enemy that fires a large spread-shot. Whether or not it's easy to dodge is beside the point. The spread is designed to force you into a perilous position. If you're in the wrong spot, then your weapons can't reach that one enemy in time to prevent them from making life just that much harder. Basically, it's not the first, second, or tenth bullet that kills you. It's going to be a seemingly endless barrage that pushes you into the corner and smothers you. A bit disturbing, if I'm being honest.

It's situations such as these that give Konami's 1985 classic its teeth, but they're still just a part of the overall experience. Each of the seven stages is short and direct. They present an idea and give you a little taste of how it works. That's it. We're accustomed to the games that introduce a new stage mechanic, then proceed to iterate upon it for a possibly unreasonable amount of time. That is absolutely not the case here. Stage 3 is the trademark Moai stage, but if you can get past the initial onslaught of ring-spewing statues, then you're in the clear. Honestly, it's refreshing, almost like sampling an array of appetizers. 

The one stage that hasn't aged particularly well is the 5th. It consists entirely of battles with flesh-sack creatures and their bullet-spitting arms. Slowdown is prevalent due to whatever monstrous calculations were required to give these things sentience. While the arms toss around a lot of bullets, their angle of attack is straightforward and predictable. Perhaps the fights are more dangerous on the second loop and beyond. Since this is the "complaint paragraph", I may as well mention that five of the bosses being repeats isn't exciting. In fairness, it's not a huge deal, and Konami more than addressed the issue in subsequent entries. 

I should also mention Nemesis, which is the version released in North America. Numerous changes were made, and none of them were for the better. I probably should've mentioned this earlier, but Gradius 1 has rank. Numerous actions increase it, and the only way to decrease it is by dying. Enemies at higher ranks fire more bullets and at faster speeds. It's actually not too bad of a system, particularly since the rank decrease helps players recover after losing a fully powered Vic Viper. In Nemesis however, it only takes a little effort for the rank to skyrocket. Making matters worse is the fact that you can only acquire one additional life. This when combined with the newly added continue feature just comes off as skeevy. Players might opt to continue on the harder stages, only to get quickly wiped out. All that happens is that they spend their quarters at a faster rate than if they just started from the beginning every time. Pretty insidious.

It's never too late to give Gradius 1 a try. While its level design isn't nearly as creative or complex as in future titles, there is a gritty appeal to it that'll get under your skin. A single enemy can wreak havoc if left alone for too long, and the game isn't afraid to throw several of them at its players. Your survival is dependent on your ability to act. Having good reactions is fine, but the Vic Viper isn't built for threading a needle through an onslaught of bullets. Take the initiative, get aggressive, and push yourself far beyond human constraints.

2025 Special - The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past

In-between fistfuls of cough-drops & Nyquil, I played through a Super Nintendo classic that we all know and adore. Well, maybe not *all*, because I can't ignore the contingent of gamers who say that The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past isn't as good as later installments. There is a part of me that envies them and their ability to still maintain a critical eye, in spite of whatever history they have had with the game. It's something I'm still coming to grips with, since this entry in the vaunted series was practically all I had for over a year. Hang on, there was also Super Mario World. Imagine playing through both of those games repeatedly until completing them 100% became as natural and automatic as breathing. Going further, I believed that there was never any reason to revisit the game, let alone re-examine it. Unfortunately, 2025 happened, so once again the abyss is staring back at me, demanding that I pretend to say something significant. 

For starters, this review will run with the assumption that you have a passing familiarity of how a Legend of Zelda game works. Take control of Link has he explores both Hyrule and the Dark World in a quest to rescue seven maidens of magic and defeat Ganon. Well, maybe that's skipping a little too far ahead. Link's first task is to obtain the three pendants and the Master Sword. This could be considered an extended tutorial, wherein the player gains an understanding of the world, the mechanics of combat, and how to utilize the mirror for when the "real adventure" begins. It's a format we'd see again in Ocarina of Time, Twilight Princess, and... I don't know. My knowledge of the 3D games isn't that extensive. Still, the general gist is there. Find three macguffins, world opens up, now find several more. I like the way this game is structured. There is that initial investment, and once the game knows I'm hooked, it reels me in and doesn't let go until the credits roll.

I also have to talk about the A' button. A button of many tasks. A button of massive importance. Having a button dedicated to Link's sword is already great, but A covers everything from picking up objects to dashing across the screen. Having this action button is an immense deal since not only does it mean less time visiting the inventory screen; it also feels great to use. There isn't any overlap with the other commands, so Link doesn't just stop swinging his sword and attempt to pick up a stone he's standing in front of. The usefulness of the A button would be expanded upon in the 3D games. A context-sensitive go-to solution for any problem that can't be solved with a sword or tool. 

The overworld deserves a ton of credit for its varied environments and ease of exploration. It's not tremendous in size, but there are tons of secrets to uncover. Similarly to the first entry in the series, you'll traverse much of the world with Link's own two legs and a few bombs. In most cases, you can still see what you can't reach, so you'll know exactly where to go after obtaining the necessary equipment. Going from Zelda 1's screen-by-screen transitions to large areas can't be understated either. It really helps to sell the diversity in landmasses and elevations. To think, it only gets better when the Dark World is introduced. Traveling between overworlds adds a ton of depth to navigation and problem-solving. It's a novel concept that Nintendo absolutely nailed on the first try. 

Discussing the dungeons of this game is quite a bit more complicated. I certainly can't shower them with praise like I did the overworld, because they're just not that consistently brilliant. There are going to be highs and lows, peaks and valleys, and so on. Dungeons are typically reminiscent of the first game; a series of rooms packed with enemies and obstacles to contend with. Some locations are arranged so that keys serve to unlock shortcuts rather than as a means of progression, and that's fine. Since a dungeon's item can only be acquired after finding the Big Key, there often aren't a lot of puzzles that rely exclusively on that particular item. In my mind, this isn't really an issue, just something of note. In fact, a couple of Dark World dungeons can be done out of order, which lends flavor to subsequent play-throughs.

Dungeons in LTTP are often spawned by big ideas, but there's a distinct lack of follow-through. In Hyrule, the Tower of Hera looks imposing. It also introduces switch orbs and star tiles. Then, just like that, it's over. A couple of its floors are practically empty, save for a gimmick or two. This was something I didn't pay any mind over countless play-throughs in the past, but now there's a distinct "That's it?" feeling. I mean, I get it. Game development is hell. Perhaps the team decided to introduce the new mechanics early on, then expand upon them in future dungeons. That said, I must admit that I'm not a big fan of the switch orb's implementation in this entry. There are clever instances, but mostly when they take place in the same room. When I have to go several rooms back just to tap an orb switch, such as in the Dark World's sewer dungeon, all I see is an inconvenience. 

Some of the other big ideas that don't quite work for me include a sizable chunk of Turtle Rock. Most of this place is spent riding floating platforms or getting sucked through tubes. The most notable puzzle is one of those timed fire rod rooms that the game is oddly fond of. You know, the ones where you have to light all the things then rush for the door. They're not the worst in the world, but that's the nicest thing I'll say about them. Skull Woods is another odd dungeon. It's possible to skip half of it without even trying. Clearly, they were trying a scenario where Link explored both an overworld and an underworld to rescue the third Maiden, but it didn't quite work out. Thieves' Town starts off promising with a large open area, but they give away the big key so early that everything afterwards is by the numbers. Leading the evil sorcerer Blind to a source of light was pretty clever though. Points for that. Despite my complaints, I appreciate that this game made so many creative attempts. Future entries had a foundation to build upon, which would lead to some truly excellent dungeons.   

On another note, I'd be lying if I didn't say that there was a part of me that appreciated there weren't a ton of puzzles revolving around the usage of a particular tool. Even in Ganon's Tower, the final dungeon of the game, most rooms can be completed without using items. The challenge is in navigating all of the obstacles that are piled on top of each other. Everything here is mechanically rich and just deeply satisfying. It really showcases the talent of a development team when they can get away with packing rooms full of icy floors and spikes. The tower's basement housing the big key and red tunic was also a great idea. It allows players to take a break without losing much progress. 

Boss battles are a little repetitive. I just have to come out and say it. Two of the first three fights being with worm-like creatures is not great. The variety doesn't improve much in the Dark World, where three more monsters are giant eyeball thingies. That one fiend which is like a turtle/hydra abomination is pretty cool, but then it devolves into Link being chased by a giant serpent. While I don't hate any of the bosses, I am disappointed by several of them. Future installments would feature better fights, but I know you already know that. 

Between the uneven dungeons and poor boss battles, I start to wonder if I'm being too generous when I rank A Link to the Past just below Link's Awakening and above the Oracle duology. I suppose this is where the almighty reviewer's tilt comes into play. My preference towards the SNES outing is due to ease of replay-ability. This is just a smooth game. Easy to pick up, easy to finish, but with enough spice to remain engaging the entire way. The Oracle games have higher highs, but they also feature inventory management, a convoluted overworld (in Seasons case) and sometimes obnoxious minigames (in Ages case). 

Even with a slightly more discerning eye, I still believe that this entry deserves its place in the upper echelons of the Legend of Zelda franchise. It does a ton right, and I can forgive every instance where it falters. The overworld is excellent, controls are superb, and the dungeons are just a few nitpicks short of great. It's a reliable adventure, the kind that I can come back to after years or decades, whether I'm feeling 100% or 0%.  

2025 Special - Sylvan Tale

Here we have another game that won't outsay it's wel- STOP! Please! Do not finish that sentence for the love of all that is... *sigh* ...Fine! Just get it over with already. Sylvan Tale is one video game that will absolutely, positively, unequivocally not... outstay... it's... welcome! Gah! Every syllable of that predictable cliche stings like a thousand bees wrapped in barbed wire. Clearly, I have to seek out new phrases to run into the ground, because this one just won't work anymore. It hurts too much. Okay, well how about this; Sylvan Tale is a palette-cleanser. Slide it in-between the 40-to-60-hour RPGs and open-world epics you're used to, and you're guaranteed to have a lovely time. 

Released for the Sega Game Gear back in 1995, this action-adventure places you in the shoes of Zetts. Ordinary to a fault, this young man spent many years not putting his life in danger for shiny macguffins. That changes today, as he is drawn into another world where no less than six droplets must be acquired. By doing so, perhaps he has a chance of saving Sylvalant from the forces of darkness. The usual menagerie of monsters, traps, and archfiends stand in his way. I mean, what else is there to say? You've heard one story; you've heard them a- oh... sorry, I accidentally swallowed a little bit of my own vomit. Let's just move on to discussing the gameplay. 

At first, our hero is only capable of the basics, which include swinging a sword, pushing blocks, and pulling blocks? Wait. Let me make sure I have this right. Zetts is capable of pushing and pulling various objects. Wow! I knew that kid was destined for great things, but damn I didn't expect that! He's a genius compared to most of these other sword boys. Oh, and he can also run when you double-tap the d-pad in any direction. It's another handy talent. By utilizing all of these skills, Zetts will obtain the first droplet, which will bestow the power of 100 slashes. Mashing the attack button performs a rapid-fire series of attacks, eviscerating monsters and opening paths to new dungeons. 

Before long, the protagonist will obtain the first of five transformations: the almighty turtle. You see, this isn't like most other action-adventures that tie traversal abilities to an array of tools. At first, Turtle-Zetts can't do much aside from getting pushed by blasts of fire to higher ground, but eventually he can jet through breakable objects and rows of spikes. Before long, players will obtain Mole-Zetts, Merman-Zetts, Mouse-Zetts, and Bird-Zetts. As you can imagine, each animal's talents are self-explanatory. Every form sees at least some usage, though you'll probably find being a mouse the most reliable due to the small size and quick maneuverability. Strangely, there's hardly any reason to fly in this game. Honestly though, I'm all right with that. It's kind of nice knowing that I don't have to revisit every area just to see if I can soar into a secret room or something. 

The pacing of this game is lightning quick. Each dungeon is a handful of rooms, maybe a few floors, and rarely takes up much of your time. The ironically named Ann's Labyrinth, to give an example, is literally just a hallway. There are obstacles and a giant slime that gives chase, but still just a hallway... literally. Some puzzles are solved merely by pushing (or pulling!) a block onto a switch, but you can also expect to see a few twists on the formula. No matter what, there's never a feeling of "this is getting excessive..." The adventure has an almost constant state of freshness to it, where you're bound to see something interesting every ten or so minutes. If you're unsure of where to go next, there's at least one NPC in a nearby village who will drop a hint of where to go next. This is a handheld game on a platform notorious for devouring batteries, so keeping the player invested is definitely the right idea.

It's also worth noting that the game can be saved anywhere, provided you're not in the middle of a boss battle. Speaking of bosses, these fights are thoroughly solid with very little in terms of gimmicks. Once you get an idea of how an archfiend moves and attacks, then you can seek out opening and land some hits. Standard stuff, but well-designed, and I really can't ask for much more than that. 

Sylvan Tale is one of those games where you won't mind that it can be 100% completed in a few short hours. That's because time is never wasted. Everything from new abilities to vicious boss encounters occurs at a shockingly fast rate. By the time it's over, you'll have witnessed firsthand a lovingly crafted adventure that has provided at least one pleasant memory. You really can't ask for much more tha- *snap* ow! Huh. That's odd. Somehow a rubber band slid itself onto my wrist and snapped. 

Well, whatever. Just be sure to give this charming little quest a play-through. 

No regrets.

2025 Special - The Legend of Oasis

Aquaria is in dire need of a Spirit King, a fierce yet compassionate warrior whose mastery over the six spirits will lead the world into a new age. However, the cruel sorcerer Agito stands in the way, wielding the frightening power of the Silver Armlet. You are Leon, a young man destined to become the Spirit King. Bearing the Golden Armlet, you'll face a series of trials that challenge both body and mind. This is The Legend of Oasis, the 1996 follow-up to one of my all-time favorite Genesis games. To put it plainly, Ancient created an excellent sequel, one that does not seek to supplant its predecessor, but to complement it. Both games succeed in everything they set out to do, and it's been a pleasure revisiting them.

Once again, I've gotten ahead of myself. Let's turn that dial on the way-back machine just a tad and dig into what makes this game shine. It starts with the controls, which have evolved a fair amount. The basics of moving around are still second-nature for anyone who'll ever pick up a controller. New are the variety of movement techniques. Crouching and then double tapping a direction will cause Leon to roll. Also, while crouching, he can lie flat on the ground. A great last-ditch move for when players aren't quite sure how to dodge an enemy's incoming attack. Leon's general fighting style has some added flair to it, as well. His jump-kick is stylish and can land several hits on a single enemy. Bombs have their own dedicated button, allowing players a little more versatility in how they handle combat encounters. 

While the limited-use weapons lent Beyond Oasis some creative resource-management, this game goes with a more standardized system. Once Leon picks up a weapon, it can be used as many times as he likes (bombs excluded). Instead, weapons have more pronounced strengths and weaknesses. The powerful sword sometimes leaves openings wide enough for an enemy to exploit. The rod has a purification skill that erases undead, but its utility suffers outside of that particular scenario. Then there's the bow, which is most effective on aerial or faraway foes. Your dagger is still as reliable as ever, but don't sell the other weapons short. The combat system is designed so that in the right hands, the protagonist is always a threat. 

The sequel also greatly expands the verticality that the hero is capable of. With every ledge, there is always some means to reach it, even unintentionally. First, let's consider that Leon is just as much a part of the world as any bush or pillar or monster. He is a being of matter and mass, capable of climbing onto anything (or anyone) he can reach. If you're the type of player that enjoyed jumping onto NPCs in Landstalker or Light Crusader, then this is going to be a real treat. No doubt first-timers will stay on the straight and narrow, only taking the intended paths to reach the goal. However, even as early as the first dungeon, it's possible to save a little time here or there by - let's say - jumping from the back of a rat to reach a valuable treasure. Through knowledge of the environment and its inhabitants, you can do a little sequence bending. There's room for player expression, lending individuality to a play-through. It's a beautiful thing.

Quite unlike most other Action-Adventure games, Aquaria is the antithesis of sprawling. It's tight, compact, and almost claustrophobic in how close-knit everything is. Entrances to dungeons are never more than a couple screens apart from each other. It's not a small game by any means. The first play-through can take anywhere from 6 to 10 hours. Think of it as more of a conscious design-decision. It's a world constructed in layers, wherein purpose lies on the surface, as well as all things above and below. To prove a point, the Wind Shrine is located in the sky and stretches out to every corner of the world. If you fall, you're going to end up somewhere back in the overworld. In essence, it's almost a prototype of what we'd eventually see in The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom. Another shrine, where Leon can recruit the earth spirit Bawu, consists of both forests and underground lairs. Just when you've climbed out of some dank ghoul-filled cavern, it won't be long until you're purposefully tossing yourself into another hole to progress. There is a sense of dynamism and liveliness to exploration, like the world isn't just a series of rooms that spontaneously lock themselves then prevent you from leaving until you've killed x number of monsters and/or pushed the most suspicious-looking block.

Aiding your exploratory efforts are six spirits. Once recruited, they can be summoned from manifold sources. The aforementioned Bawu, who can swallow most anything, is found in all of the plants that dot each location. Dytto's specialties are in the elimination of fire, the freezing of water, and healing. Conversely, Efreet's talents are in creating fire and melting ice. Shade - the darkness that protects - is anywhere that has a reflective surface, including crystals and even the hint-divulging obelisks that dot the world. Brass and Airl offer their own set of talents, such as the creation of sound waves or robot-powering electricity. Leon's toolset grows with the completion of every shrine, and like before, his invaluable allies can be strengthened through the acquisition of hidden gems. 

If all that wasn't enough, Leon's weapons can be enhanced to perform other tasks, such as firing arrows through solid objects, gifting the rod with an anti-undead projectile, or smashing pillars with the sword. Once the requisite scrolls are obtained, nearby orbs (or the spirits themselves) provide these beneficial abilities. Outside of certain circumstances, there is very little backtracking. Also, with a spirit at your side and an enhanced weapon, it's like you're carrying two tools at once. Best of all, outside of weapon-switching, this is all accomplished without pausing the action. There is this seamlessness to all actions that keeps the player engaged. What's needed for a given situation is clearly conveyed, and often the puzzle is simply meeting those needs. The more standardized puzzles that involve switch-flipping and object-pushing are still around. Thankfully, they never come off as excessive, let alone detrimental to the pacing.

Doubtlessly, your efforts to conquer the shrines will be harried by monsters of all shapes and sizes. Their numbers seem greater than before, but in most cases, you'll have some means of neutralizing them quickly. I mean, sure, you can still pummel them with a wicked assortment of moves like this were a top-down Streets of Rage, or you could simply freeze them with Dytto. The slightest contact with fire turns zombies to dust. Don't forget about Bawu, who can swallow just about anything. Bear in mind however that it's not always so easy. Enemies have become more versatile since the last game, employing anti-air techniques as well as aggressive tactics. Soldiers who carry bombs are often capable of kicking them towards Leon, or back-dashing to escape his counterattack. 

It's fair to say that The Legend of Oasis is a more difficult game than its predecessor. There's never a lack of healing opportunities, and because of that, enemies hit harder and attack with greater frequency. The rate at which Leon's HP can deplete is sometimes surprising. I've been taken to near-death more than a couple times by just one particularly ambitious soldier. Even the rats are a threat! Late in the game, they perform leaping attacks that'll tear heroes apart. Since food can no longer be stored, Dytto's effectiveness as a heal-bot is greatly diminished. Learning the mechanics of combat and when to employ the other spirits are a much more effective means of survival. Being 1v1, the boss-fights are a little more predictable, but are no less of a threat. They have multiple phases, growing in intensity as their health decreases. Since save-points are always just before a boss, it's not a bad idea to experiment with different spirits or weapons. Combat as a whole is different, maybe even a little chaotic if you rely solely on the dagger or sword. I get the feeling that Ancient wanted the puzzle-solving to extend beyond just figuring out how to open the nearest door, and devised fights where the solution isn't just to mash the attack button.

Over the years, my feelings on the rank system have wavered constantly. Instead of picking up HP-increasing hearts, Leon's maximum health now has a chance of increasing whenever his health is healed... to the max. These "rank-ups" are a system built to be exploited, since the player can just walk into spikes repeatedly while healing to boost it. For the longest time, I've always felt that perhaps the system is a little too punishing for players attempting to get as low a rank as possible, since it'd involve constant save-scumming or a perfectionist's level of skill. Now, I guess I just don't take it as seriously as before. It's basically just a less time-consuming way for players to increase the maximum life available to them, if they need it. That said, the ranking system from Beyond Oasis returns, so anyone seeking bragging rights should make an effort to be as fast and as thorough as possible. 

Indeed, this game has just as much replay-ability as its 16-bit counterpart. The dense level-design and overall closeness of every location means there is absolutely no downtime. Idle runs to the next destination simply don't exist. There's always a shortcut to take, a route to adjust, or an alternative means to progress. One trick to keep in mind is the bomb-jump. It's as simple as placing a bomb, waiting for it to flash yellow, and then jumping. The explosion will catapult Leon onto otherwise not-easy-to-reach cliffs. Blowing yourself up is obviously not without cost, but it's still a lovely skip. It's techniques like these, as well as the weapons & spirits, that create a mechanically rich and fulfilling game. There is so much here that's a joy to interact with. 

The Legend of Oasis is an innovative action-adventure classic... or at least it would be if more people actually played the game. Dammit! I'll admit to being part of the problem here, as for the longest time I saw it as the lesser entry compared to Beyond Oasis. What's here is thoroughly fantastic. All of the dungeons are great. The protagonist has tremendous mobility and an answer for every possible situation. Perhaps most importantly, there is a richness to its mechanics that rewards knowledge and creativity, making for a game worth revisiting multiple times over. 

2025 Special - Light Crusader

"You're done with Light Crusader! Done! Never again!"

"You even recorded a play-through and posted it on Youtube. That's like... throwing dirt on top of the casket, scattering ashes in the wind, leaving flowers at the grave, whatever! Point is, it's over. It's finally-"

It's never over. All that ended up getting buried was the voice telling me that my time with Light Crusader had ended. If I can be brutally honest; he doesn't know shit about shit anyway. There was a time eons ago that I absolutely abhorred Final Fight. At one point, I even hated Mushimesama. Opinions and feelings are prone to change. The fact that I've revisited this particular game time after time, despite my supposed "done with this forever" attitude about it, clearly means something.

I think?

Well, let's go over the basics. Light Crusader is Treasure's first (and last, I guess) foray into the world of Action-Adventure. After a tiring journey, Sir David arrives at The Kingdom only to find out that there have been kidnappings, shadows creeping around the cemetery, and a host of other bad omens. With sword in hand, our hero delves into a massive labyrinth, ready to face the foul monsters and confounding riddles that lie within. Compared to the likes of Alien Soldier & Radiant Silvergun, this might be the most bog-standard plot ever seen in a game by Treasure. Oh no! An evil wizard is about to summon a demon! That's seriously the extent of the story. No twists, no absurd lore, not even a little bit of time traveling. Well, there was one instance of Sir David visiting different worlds to fight ninjas and cowboys. The developer had to slide at least a little absurdity in, and I appreciate it.

As you'll soon see, the game adopts an isometric perspective, but Sir David and the fiends that accost him can freely move in all eight directions. However, most objects will only move diagonally. I actually really like that characters and objects operate by different rulesets. To reiterate, there is just as much adventure that there is action, and objects include everything from moving platforms to exploding barrels. Learning how they work is key to solving the myriad puzzles that await. Sometime ago, I would've likened this game to Landstalker, but the approach here is quite different. Going further, I've started to glimpse the appeal of how the protagonist and the world around him works. There is a lot of fluidity and maneuverability when moving around. This makes the precision required to push objects around really satisfying to pull off. Now, I won't claim it's perfectly handled, since there are rare moments where David will brush up against a boulder, unintentionally causing it to roll away. 99 times out of 100 though, this is a game world that feels good to move around in.

However, even with all of my replays, my feelings on the swordplay are still in the realm of iffy. When fighting the many flavors of adversity, Dave has a habit of auto-targeting whomever he is closest to. It's most apparent when attacking from midair, as he'll perform a diving strike on a nearby target. There will be an adjustment period for players new to Light Crusader, and either they'll get the hang of it after a while, or it will gnaw at them for decades. Oh! Excuse me, I was talking about myself there. Maybe it's because this is one of the shockingly rare instances where the combat system in a Treasure game works 95 out of 100 times instead of the usual 100 out of 100, and my entire being struggles with that.

The same holds true for the boss battles. They all look great but often don't have a strategy past 'walk up and hit it with a sword several times'. There are, of course, exceptions. One late-game boss summons an odd 3D triangle. Bumping into it will drain Davey's health, restoring the boss' in the process. Destroying a literal tank with a sword is also pretty cool. Again, however, this is a game by Treasure, and the sky-high standards they set for bosses isn't met here. Still, there is a part of me, a part I tried to suffocate for decades. That part doesn't believe the mediocre fights are a big deal, and for once I'm starting to understand what he's saying. This is probably a side-effect of the many Action-Adventure games I've played in 2025. I've tussled and tangled with so many bosses. Some were good, several others just okay, and a few made me question my love for video games. I'm fine with just okay. Just okay keeps the quest interesting. Just okay gives life, creativity, and flavor to the world. As much as I would've loved to have seen good or even great battles, I'm far too familiar with the godawful few. In short, good on the developers for exercising restraint and settling for just okay. Whether or not it was intentional doesn't matter.

Another reason I'm willing to forgive the just okay bosses is because... well... it's flat-out impossible to die in this game. Okay, I'm being facetious here. Surely there is evidence out there of Sir David eating one too many clubs to the face, or getting burnt to a crisp by endless fireballs. The possibility that ever happens is less than zero. For one, unless the player decides otherwise, Dave the Brave will instantly chow down on any food that'll bring him out of an injured state. Fish, steak, chicken, anything edible. If the person holding the controller makes the slightest effort to defeat bad guys, their inventory will be stocked with heaping helpings of healing. Obviously, it's in one's best interest to avoid taking damage, but there's practically no harm in tanking damage either. I imagine there's replay value in tackling the game without food stuffs, relying only on the occasional fountains to stay healthy. Hmm... Probably should have tried that myself, especially considering the number of play-throughs I've done. 

OOPS!

There's one other aspect of Light Crusader that's well-thought out, but also surprisingly easy to forget about. Anyone familiar with the game already knows that it's the spell system. Each of the four elements are accounted for, and they can be combined in multiple ways to create a wide array of effects. Thing is, it's a difficult feature to discuss in detail because in all these years, I never really took advantage of it. The sword - even with its "pitiful" 95 out of 100 efficiency - is still incredibly effective at handling everything the game throws at me. That said, anyone trying this game for the first time should make an effort to explore magic. What else can I say? It's neat.

More important than anything else, this game has perfect pacing. Ashamedly, this isn't something I've paid attention to before, even though it's the #1 reason why I've replayed it so many times. I mean, there are games out there that I will claim to love with every ounce of my soul, but they've seen less play-throughs than Light Crusader. This is a three-hour adventure, a very lean one at that. Outside of one extremely minor instance of backtracking, you're spending the entire game in the dungeon. Moments where control is taken away are nonexistent. Each of the six floors has a hook that draws you in, and there's no filler that gets in the way. For instance, on the third floor, you'll acquire a Goblin costume, perfect for mingling with the Goblins and getting into places where no human is allowed. It's a novelty that doesn't wear out its welcome. Once you reach the 4th floor, you can safely forget about the costume. Sometimes, retaining player engagement is simply a matter of knowing when something has served its purpose and must be discarded. 

While I'm at it, David's walking speed is amazing. He's got a stride that covers the right amount of distance in the right amount of time. I've never felt like he needed a run button, or a dash-cancel, or some manner of spammable bunny hop that decreases travel time by .02 decameters. Maybe it's a small thing in actuality, but it feels grand when directly compared to some of the other games I'm playing right now. Shining Wisdom, I am thinking about you this very second, and the fact that I have to mash and hold the C button just to reach beyond a snail's pace. Speaking of; that auto-eating system I mentioned earlier drastically cuts down on inventory time. Absolutely brilliant idea.

I feel like I owe Light Crusader more than just begrudging respect. Just because Treasure didn't blow the roof off like they did with Alien Soldier, Guardian Heroes, Radiant Silvergun, Sin & Punishment, Sin & Punishment: Star Successor, Gunstar- a... anyway... just because they didn't blow the roof off doesn't mean that they didn't deliver a damn solid game. It has remarkable ideas yet doesn't trip over itself trying to convince the player to invest in them. For a genre that was outside of their comfort zone, they nailed everything that matters.