Outland - Thoughts

Ikaruga is a fantastic game—it introduced an engaging polarity system that's easy to understand but brutal to master, especially in the heat of combat. It's short, massively repayable, highly difficult, and really creative with its level design. So in that sense it's easy to see why many revere and love Treasure's immaculate STG, though oddly, scant few have tried to replicate it. Housemarque's is one such (bold) developer; they aimed to marry Ikaruga's polarity mechanic with a side scrolling design philosophy in Xbox 360's Outland, putting the player on the ground with a sword rather than in the air with a gun. While the idea may seem positively engrossing (a Metroidvania platformer with a polarity mechanic!), it feels more like a basic platformer that will require a bit more patience than you'd expect.

First and foremost, the visuals for the game are great—the blues and reds stick out against the dark foreground, despite how much miscellaneous detail may cover the screen at times. The background art isn't something you'll find yourself fawning over, but it does a fantastic job at providing enough detail and variation so that you never feel like assets are obviously repeating. This can be especially tricky to pull off for a game that adopts a silhouette aesthetic—as foreground detail becomes essentially nonexistent—but it's also a wise choice for a game in which bullets need to be clearly and distinctively marked.

Unfortunately Outland takes far too long to finally get into full swing. I finally found a comfortable amount of challenge by the time I entered into the City area, but by then there wasn't that much of the game left. When you only have one polarity early in the game, you'll spend a lot of time just waiting for bullets and platforms to change color, which is my main disappointment—the game emphasizes shifting colors at designated times, rather than deftly dancing between the two and dodging particles. There are instances where you'll have to be quick on your feet, but those times are pretty rare, and since the game doesn't really offer multiple options towards overcoming its challenges, the level design is really all it has.

Beyond that I only have a few other minor gripes with the game: the absence of healing at checkpoints, the inability to view other maps from the menu, and the lack of rebindable controls (so switching colors could be RT instead of RB). Bosses are especially a mixed bag, leaning more towards frustration than fun. One problem is that the encounters last too long, often having a lengthy preamble before you can fight them proper. The Winged Serpent boss is the most offensive example of this, requiring a exhaustive running sequence just to get to a battle that becomes too cluttered and hectic for its own good. I do admire a lot of the heart poured into the craft of the game, even if it doesn't seem like I'm showing it... I suppose I was just underwhelmed with the direction Housemarque took in the end.

Perhaps I was at fault for wanting more precision and dexterity out of a game sharing its core mechanic with Ikaruga; Outland is strangely more about waiting than dodging, but seeing as its a downloadable title made by a very flexible studio, I think it remains a respectable title. The polish here certainly indicates that a lot of care went into it, and despite my gripes, it's an enjoyable platformer on a console mired in bad ones. I do wish more games would try to fiddle around with the polarity mechanic, but I'm also thankful for what's been attempted thus far.
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Images obtained from: otakubutgangsta.com, housemarque.com

Okami - Thoughts

[contains spoilers]

Some games tend to cast a shadow so immense and fuliginous that few other developers attempt to enter its genre. The Legend of Zelda franchise is a textbook example of this phenomenon, drawing in multiple imitators during its 2D era (Neutopia, Golden Axe Warrior, Beyond Oasis) but scaring most off after the risky transition to the third dimension. Clover Studio's Okami is something I've seen bravely compared to the Hylian hero's legacy, though often as "it does what Zelda does, but better!" Because of my adoration for Viewtiful Joe I bought Okami when it was new, but (shamefully) only got around to finishing it this year. I enjoyed the whimsical wolf god's journey through the shimmering land of Nippon, but the claims of superiority to Zelda's original structure are definitely exaggerated—if anything, it and Zelda share similar pitfalls.

I'd prefer this entry not to be a direct competition between the two titles, so I'll dispense with the Zelda comparisons for now. Okami's greatest strength is the sense of culture it brings with it. This isn't just evident in foreground of mythology & music, but is crystalized in the entire aesthetic package; I would argue that if the game was made anywhere other than Japan, it would not have retained its unique, pleasant flavor. The cultural perspective Okami exhibits is part of the reason why I find inveterately foreign studios both challenging and refreshing, as the exposure to a new kind of world can be very enlightening.

Clover's Nippon is one that is awe-strikingly beautiful, rich with cherry blossoms and eccentric characters. The most vivid aspect of the game is the art style, its raw ink brush smatterings present on every object and character—even repeated asset feels special with this filter! Though there are only several adventure fields in the game, each one is just the right size and has the perfect tune to accompany it as you traverse across grassy knolls and sandy shores. And speaking of tunes, Okami's majestical soundtrack is almost indelibly tied to the visuals, the composers doing an amazing job with recurring themes and tugging at the heartstrings during the final act (it reminded me a touch of Journey's momentous finale due to the impact of the music alone).

Though the game implements traditional japanese folklore into its story, I was more intrigued by its representation in the art. I looked forward to how each enemy was rendered on the bestiary scroll, as well as in-game during a battle. Every foe felt eerie and captivating—the Red & Blue Ogre, Great Tengu, and Igloo Turtle were among my favorites. Bosses were exceptionally well done too, with the Spider Queen and Blight looking truly menacing with a pinch of melancholy, and Orochi's hideous presence bleeding into the bestiary parchment made him that much more terrifying.

Fighting all of these mythical creatures, however, was an entirely different matter.

You see, where I feel that Okami falters is in its pacing and somewhat in the combat. The battle system in the game is serviceable—fulfilling its purpose without any flourish, though oddly underwhelming for a Kamiya title. During the beginning the combat is unfortunately rote and dull, opening up only halfway through the game when you acquire multiple weapon types, a dodge, and more enemy variety to play around with. However the game can be quickly thrown out of balance the moment you pull out any glaive weapon, as the celestial broadswords can swiftly dispatch any monstrosity in your path. I had to actually restrain myself from using it during the final boss fight when I realized that a single combo could reduce his health by a third; I desired the story's climax to resemble at least somewhat of a struggle.

But while the combat is something I could learn to enjoy, the pacing was not. Orochi is built up as the main antagonist in the game but is slain a third of the way through the story—after that, you more or less wend around until you bump into Yami. Again, I enjoyed the story and found the final battle to be the most emotionally powerful encounter Clover or Platinum has ever produced (yes, even more than Bayonetta and The Wonderful 101), but with regards to building Yami up, almost no consideration was shown here. Nine-tails was the most frightening villain in the game and even she takes a backseat to Orochi after her limelight dwindles, the hydra stealing unnecessary amounts of screen time for being such a simple enemy. I get that the appeal of Yami is that he's an condensed, unknowable form of evil, but the aimlessness after Act I just made the game feel so much longer than it wound up being.

The stilted pacing doesn't merely affect just the plot either. Entering combat requires loading so you're not entirely incentivized to fight foes your way from point A to B, the mermaid coin pools are too rare and the item that lets you travel between save points is locked behind item grinding, and dungeons are entirely linear affairs with no diversions or options to explore, which fails to differentiate them from the rest of the linear game (other than in setting). And lastly, there's so much dialogue that it puts Skyward Sword's incessant nagging to shame. It's demeaning to have an NPC tell me where to go for reason X, and then Issun to repeat the same thing back, and when I arrive I'm told that I'm there for reason X. This is especially irksome whenever the slow dialogue takes over, as it just extends certain scenes out well beyond their bearable limit. The dojo was just about where I had enough of the copious amounts of text, as I timed one trip to it to take nearly 20 minutes just to learn additional combos and the ability to do damage when I maneuver (things which require no tutorial whatsoever!) The little things like mashing "A" through treasures obtained or "Start" every time I fed an animal wore me down by the end, and I can only be thankful the game didn't ask me to go on another fetch quest before it was over (though it did force me to fight Orochi for a third time).

I didn't ever dread playing Okami—I found a lot of it to be fun!—but I wasn't sad when it was over. The game doesn't "overstay its welcome" as much as it "understates its objectives", lasting a good while but failing to outwardly convince the player to remain invested. It's a shame too since the wondrous world is so full of color and quirkiness, each of its enemies a sight to behold. I was glad that I stuck around to experience Clover's hodgepodge of ancient japanese myths, though I'm unsure if there will ever be a second playthrough in the future. Either way, Okami's visual charm will remain as radiant as the sun.
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Images obtained from: okami-game.com, vgblogger.com, destuctoid.com, shadowpuppeteer.com

Gargoyle's Quest - Thoughts

Video game spin-offs often present an opportunity to create a novel idea. Mainline entries may be expected to tow the line, but when given the keys to a universe with an established setting and characters, designers can crank out some brilliant variations. With that being said, Ghosts 'n Goblins is a series I wouldn't have said deserved a spin-off—Sir Arthur's brutal action adventures have always been fun romps that deserve their merit, but creating yet another platforming game in the same (relatively uninvolved) universe seemed unnecessary.

Thank god I was wrong though—Gargoyle's Quest is one of the best platformers on the Game Boy.

The game stars Firebrand of the Red Arremer tribe (those nasty crimson buggers that hound Sir Arthur throughout all of his perilous adventures) and lets you take control of the fiend as he trudges his way through the Ghoul Realm to save it from destruction. The story is less incidental than its parent series but only goes skin deep, hitting plenty of often-plucked notes the hero's journey is known for. It can be amusing at times (like encountering a town where its inhabitants punish loafing with cannibalism), but the prose is far from the main course—that dish belongs to the flight-fancy gameplay.

Gone is the notorious swoop from Firebrand's genetic arsenal—instead the player must balance limited flight time with wall climbing. This slows the gameplay down but allows for considerably more horizontal & vertical interaction as you scale up walls and hover over tracts of spikes. Later on you get the ability to spit a gooey orb which will stick to sharp surfaces, enabling safe contact with them and leading to some pretty gnarly gameplay sections. As the game progresses, Firebrand will learn new skills and increase his endurance, but the traps and enemies become more devious to compensate (although I'd argue the tower in the first part of the game is probably the hardest challenge).

Looking over these bullet points may not make the game seem that impressive, but the level design is excellent and suits the mechanics well. Enemies are wisely implemented and your options for movement are limited, forcing you balance out of your flight meter as best as possible (which gets complicated when you're climbing up a serrated tunnel with homing creatures on your tail). Since movement is slow it feels a bit more like Castlevania than Ghosts 'n Goblins, demanding the player have a mastery over the controls and enemy placement in order to survive; rarely is the absurd precision G'nG demands present here. The use of vertical movement may not seem like much but it's a unique approach to traversing a stage that's rarely seen in platformers (or implemented well).

There's an overworld latched onto the journey that helps expand the gameplay beyond it's admittedly sparse six "main" levels, though it's not without its unflattering bumps. The enemy encounter rate can feel bloated at times, especially after you figure out how to best win the battles. The towns often feel more like side-shows than places you'll be excited to visit, and the mini-stages scattered around, while fun and clever the first time, get stale upon sequential retreads. It's nothing egregious, but overall the overworld can start to drag on when you're sent back to a town after yet another game over.

Luckily the meat of the game remains untarnished—the main levels are far and away the best thing the game has to offer, each long trek ending with a frantic boss battle. The treacherous arenas you encounter the bosses in only serve to aid their attack patterns, making every engagement kinetic and frightening. The final showdown features an impressive screen-filling devil but ironically winds up being the most boring and repetitive fight of the bunch. The other colossal beasts are enormously fun to tackle though, especially Rushifell, who launches a homing projectile at you as you work your way around a bottomless pit (with only small blocks available to replenish your wing meter). The levels themselves are quite entertaining too, remaining challenging even up to the final stage (where you'll have unlimited flight, which must have been a headache to develop a stage around). However, one last negative tally goes to the penultimate stage's drills for being absolute garbage, requiring absurd timing to pass through unscathed—probably the biggest design choice that I was scratching my head over.

Besides the few off-kilter diversions, Gargoyle's Quest is a fantastic game. It introduces a flurry of great mechanics that put it well beyond being a simple platformer, challenging the player with wall climbing, wing management, and a whole lot of projectile dodging. Besides the overworld, nearly everything about it is engaging, the difficulty ramping up quite nicely throughout the quest. Gargoyle's Quest sums up to be something more than just a pocket adventure, and joins the Game Boy's hierarchy of sublime video games.
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Images obtained from: consoleclassix.com, playeronepodcast.com,  gametheory.com

Oniken - Thoughts

While I contend that Shovel Knight is the best 8-bit style game made in the post-NES era (that doesn't begin with "Rockman"), Oniken deserves an honorable mention. Whereas the cerulean crusader took his laurels from the likes of Mega Man and Ducktails, Oniken looks towards Ninja Gaiden and Shadow of the Ninja for its oldschool training, being more concerned with execution than flexibility. This means that game offers the player only a few methods to tackle its obstacles with, forcing them to hone their reflexes and learn pattern recognition on the fly.

The story is your usual fare of a violent loner taking down a tyrannical madman fueled by gasoline and a thirst for power. It's nothing to write home about but gets the job done; notable is the violence displayed in both the cutscenes and gameplay. It can be quite jarring at times as it's not often you see a little 8-bit head getting chopped in half. This minor detail adds a lot more "grit" to the world of Oniken, and I think it nails the hyperviolent anime aesthetic it aims to emulate despite the bright colors.

The color palette itself stays close to the limited selection the NES is privy to. I would hesitate to call Oniken a looker even by NES standards—some of the levels fare nicely on the visuals, while others (the boat, the forest) can look pretty silly. There is a solid amount of variety in the game as it takes you across eight (mostly different) stages, so I don't really hold the lack of better visuals against it. Plus the grotesque mechanical design of the final two levels reminds me of Sunsoft's Batman, which is always a great thing to strive for. The music is neither here nor there unfortunately.

But enough talk of the pleasantries—the action is what Oniken was made for! To get this off my chest, my biggest complaint is that I couldn't get any controllers I had to work properly with it. I had to fiddle around with some Joy2Key configurations, so at times I felt that my jumps were a little imprecise or that I wasn't attacking as fast as I should've been able to. Besides that though, the game plays as smooth as it needs to be—the Strider-esque blade is fast and has a good reach, though I found myself most indebted to the grenades in tricky situations. The randomized drops from item containers can be frustrating at times (especially if you don't get health before a boss) but it at least keeps you from completely memorizing the stages and treating them like an exercise in muscle memory.

I'm not one to achievement hunt anymore, but I confess that it was a lot of fun obtaining the "no-death" accolades for each of the stages (my first playthrough naturally netted me around half of them). Even while replaying stages I've already beaten before I found the gameplay exhilarating, certain aspects of the level design continuing to impress me. Sure, there's a lot of moments near the end that require a bit of foreknowledge, and a few of the bosses (I'm looking at you Hackan) were more about going all out rather than dodging, but the vast majority of the game is well-crafted, smart, and cool. I think it's a game I would've loved to design back in my adolescence, especially regarding the ominous-yet-rad final boss design.

Oniken's ride is a simple & short one, but it's a helluvalotta fun. It's one of those titles that after the credits began rolling, I knew I would return to at a later time. Oniken isn't as polished as the games that inspired it, but if you want some classic NES action on the PC, there's rarely better places to look... well, besides Shovel Knight.

Nanostray - Thoughts

With the release of the Nintendo DS in 2004 came a new STG out of Shin'en's workshop to accompany it in 2005. Rather than reuse the Iridion license, we received Nanostray instead, a very similar shmup with a significant graphical overhaul. Gone are the rendered backgrounds and awkward sprite stretching; sleek polygonal ships strafing at high speeds now rule the battlefield. The action is faster and the enemies hit harder in Nanostray, making it a pretty irresistible package for shmup fans thirsting for a portable shooter, as long as you can get over some the eccentricities.

Out of its predecessors, Nanostray stays the closest to Iridion II (unsurprisingly). The camera angle, bombs, multiple power-ups and general difficulty adheres to the guidelines already printed out, though in some ways Nanostray is a bit more intense. More bullets are present on the screen at once, and your own arsenal has been heavily upgraded; each of the weapons & their respective energized shots are well balanced and have noticeable uses, whether it be the boss-crushing side shot or the handy undulating lightning emission. You'll find yourself switching up shot-types a lot more often, though the process of doing so has been made unfortunately complicated.

Since the Nintendo DS's primary feature is the duplicate touch screen, some awkward touch controls are thrown in for good measure. To view your remaining power or to change your weapons, you have to consult the bottom screen, which tends to split your focus in pivotal moments—the power-ups suffer the most from this, as their individual windows of opportunity can be very brief. I would've preferred L&R to be designated for this purpose (they serve no actual function in the game), though it's not entirely too terrible once you get nimble enough at tapping the colored icons between safe spots.

The new hardware makes itself known not only in the controls and crisp visuals, but also the speed of the game. Slowdown aside, the game moves quick and plays quick, being closer to an arcade-style shmup than the Iridion games ever felt. I'm a bit sad to see the rendered backgrounds gone, but the game is obviously better for ditching its wonky handling of sprites, and still looks quite nice even today. With that said about the graphics, I'm not entirely sure about how I feel on the music—despite Manfred Linzner's continued work on Shin'en's titles, the tracks here are less distinctive and catchy than the GBA games. Even sadder is that the option is missing to fiddle with audio levels, as the current mixing allows enemy explosions to tower over the tunes.

Nevertheless, the entire package still glitters at the end of the day. The levels and waves of enemies are varied, the challenges can be a thrill to tackle, the bosses provide a delightful (and dreadful) spectacle, and the game only has a few other kinks outside of what I've mentioned (like how the playing field is more limited than the player thinks it is). The energized shots are a great addition to the series, and the leniency of infinite continues in the Normal mode ensure that even the greenest of amateurs can see this journey through to its end. It's just fun stuff overall.

Nanostray feels very akin to Iridion II, but it's a lot less graceful—more wild and uncaring—than its predecessor. This makes the game personally more engaging, and even with its short length it provides a satiating experience. The Advanced difficulty hits the sweet spot between being punishing and too lenient, and the challenge mode adds a teensy bit of variation in case you ever get bored of the campaign. Nanostray won't find itself among the ranks of other elite STGs like Gradius or Mushihimesama, but it does a damn fine job at what it sets out to do.

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Images obtained from:  jeuxvideo.com, journaldugamer.com, archaic.fr

Neverending Nightmares - Thoughts

[contains spoilers]

Neverending Nightmares is a neat game. It's not a very complex game, or thematically deep one for that matter, but it's an interesting ride while it lasts. It occupies the same "atmospheric walker" genre as Gone Home and Kairo, although it obviously differs from those by being a 2D title obsessed with doors. There are some things I think it does well, some things I think it does poorly, but overall I'm really glad it was made (and that I played it).

The very first thing (and the very best thing) about Neverending Nightmares is the grisly, unforgettable art style. The hand-drawn backgrounds mesh well with the elastic characters, and any time the color red is applied onscreen, it immediately grabs your attention. The most notable uses of blood are in the handful of zoomed portraits the game has, whether it be pieces of glass in a sink, an eviscerated animal, or unknown meat ground-up on a table. These are often shown at off-centered angles and it's a shame the game doesn't have more of them, as they were what I was looking forward to the most (the meat grinder remains the most disturbing part of the game to me). The deterioration of Thomas' house slowly over time is also a sinister implementation—the numerous arrangements of minor details makes every room feel uniquely crafted, despite how often the setting repeats.

And the game repeats plenty. Insanity isn't something that's high on my phobia list in games, and Neverending Nightmares leans into that particular fear pretty hard. There is a certain appeal in wandering similar hallways over and over (and over [and over]), although some sequences can go on for so long without an interruption that you'll forget you're playing a horror game. After the first hour or so into the game, a lot of my dread had dissipated and I was mainly marching on just to see what else was in store for me. And some of it was fantastic (like Gabby's corpse falling out of the sky), while other sections (the dolls) did nothing for me.

I've stated this before in the Lone Survivor summary—the narrative in horror games is of paramount importance, due to the seedy influence the story & lore can have on the player. A game like Silent Hill 2 thrives off of the grotesque symbolism of its monsters, and even without that, the desperate tale it weaves can upset the player tremendously. I struggle to say Neverending Nightmares has a story though, as it's too muddled behind interpretation and red herrings to allow decrypting; despite how hard the player can try to identify the relation of Gabby to Thomas, there's too many distractions and vague statements to know precisely what the author was aiming for. The ending you receive can drastically alter their relationship, and perhaps allowing for interpretation was the point, but I still find some factors to be misleading (for instance, if she is his wife in "Final Descent", why are the first few segments about Gabby being his sister?).

After completing Neverending Nightmares, I looked into its origins a bit more for some explanation. Being a kickstarter-funded title, there were reward tiers promising to incorporate different elements into the game depending on the pledge level. While some stuff like the tombstones and backer sound effects are unique additions that don't impede with the atmosphere, the nightmare creation and backer portraits were things that seemed to clash with the story. Granted, I can't tell which nightmares are specifically backer-made, but having a hodgepodge of ideas added to the lack of cohesion (the portraits could've contributed a lot to the narrative too!). It's a shame too, considering that there's such strong, disturbing imagery in the game that could've had some utterly terrifying explanations behind them.

Neverending Nightmares is worth a playing just for how maniacal it gets at times, but don't expect any kind of unsettling genius that will keep you up at night (outside of the monstrous things Thomas does to his limbs). The handful of brilliant moments become a bit buried by all the monotony, although you could argue that the directionless wandering and trepidation of the next big event are all a subversive part of the horror. The aesthetic is gorgeous and there's nothing really like it—I wish more games aimed to be this distinct. Though I gripe about the backer influence, I'm glad this twisted nightmare got to exist.

Imagine Me - Thoughts

After buying the most recent Humble Weekly Bundle, I decided to check out what games came paired with it. I primarily nabbed the bundle for Ittle Dew, but wasn't quite prepared for how cool and sleek MURI was. Bardbarian was an interesting concept that got too grindy too quick (and fit the phone better than the PC), and so all that was left... was Imagine Me.

Imagine Me looks cute but is one of the worst playing games I've experienced in a long time.

While the pastel look screams "adorable" and the theme that plays over the solemn title screen is pleasing, everything else falls apart once you jump in. There's primarily two different modes in the game—Campaign, which features an infinite number of randomly generated levels with story segments spliced in-between, and the Challenge mode, which is a set of 36 single-room maps. I'll note here that even after obtaining all of the story vignettes, there really isn't much substance you can draw from its tangle of random imagery. Unless I missed the relevance of what a car crash, archery class, girl cousin, dead dog and teacher singing have to do with each other, the narrative seems to be wholly untied to the game.

The campaign mode serves as a great illustration for how randomly generated levels can be put together poorly. It has a similar four-floor layout like Spelunky but rather than stitching together distinct sections, it's more or less a hodgepodge of objects and enemies. While traversing the patchwork scenery, you'll soon realize how clunky the game is: the hitboxes on spikes are enormous, enemies and blocks take too long to disappear after getting hit, the single arrow pickups are pointless compared to the equally-distributed five arrow pickups, keys are overabundant, and crates serve no purpose other than to block your way. Outside of the monotone bosses, you will have experienced everything the game has to offer in the first level, so there's almost nothing of value past the first five minutes.

However, the greatest offender comes from the challenge mode. While the randomly generated levels are awkward and shallow, the challenge mode puts your patience to the test. Right off the bad level 1-2 is the hardest of the bunch, featuring an assortment of pointy spike-shooters strewn about the room, each of which fires projectiles independently of one another (so good luck looking for a pattern). Trying to make it to the exit in this one area is a massive battle, as even your arrows fail to kill the single enemy placed into the arena (arrows which use up those you've collected in the campaign for some bizarre reason). After this heinous struggle, you'll ride a roller coaster of difficulty—you can beat 2-12 by just holding right down the whole time, while 3-8...

In 3-8, all of the projectiles are set into the background (and is the only level that does this), only giving you a small window in which you can see them. There's a spike shooter above you at the start so you'll die pretty quickly before you have an idea of what's going on. To make matters worse, there's spike shooters above the exit, and since the fade out to death is quicker than the level-complete fade out, you can touch the exit but the LEVEL FAILED! sign will always pop up first. There's numerous examples of how the game is poorly designed embedded within the game itself: you don't actually pause when you go to the menu (meaning that you can die in the options menu), after quitting a challenge you're taken back to the main menu rather than the challenge menu, your character can move during the game over screen in the campaign, and the tutorial screen always pops up before levels. I can't believe all of these simple issues were overlooked.

I've played games with wonky physics like Defy Gravity before, but at least that game had an interesting mechanic to it. Imagine Me is something that feels like it was designed by an artist that didn't quite know how to make a good game, or didn't care by the time it was finished. Granted, there's much worse out there on Steam, but I was quite surprise to receive this in the same bundle that MURI and Ittle Dew came in; I really should've spent my time playing those instead.