Nanostray 2 - Thoughts

In regards to each of Shin'en's previous shmup titles, I've always had a fondness for their peculiar camera choices. Sure, it made dodging bullets quite awkward and it wasn't always clear if you were going to collide with something, but their cinematic bent was a style fitting for the experimental handheld series. Nanostray 2—Shin'en's final attempt at a "straight" shooter—is their most conventional and streamlined entry yet: gone are the strange perspectives and questionable collisions. Instead, we're given a game that takes notes from Life Force, providing ship-partnered "options" and alternating perspectives every other stage. Though I can't help but gravitate towards the other titles in the series (for no reason other than nostalgia alone), from a design standpoint Nanostray 2 is undoubtedly Shin'en's best shooter.

Part of the reason why I didn't warm to Nanostray 2 when I was younger is that the Adventure mode (the standard shmup campaign in the game) was structured too rigidly for me to complete. Whereas the previous games had an imbalanced health system where one bullet took a small chunk off of your health bar while any ship collisions outright killed you, Nanostray 2 addresses this by making all damage immediately lethal. I do prefer playing STGs that take this "1 hit = death" approach, but Nanostray 2 awkwardly attaches limited continues it, making it so you have to restart a level should you lose all your lives on said stage. Not only that, but the game saves your lives remaining if you quit to the main menu, which means that all lives lost on a stage are permanent unless you hard reset the handheld.

While it's fair to say this keeps the game feeling like an oldschool shooter that you have to complete in a single sitting, I think the simultaneous inclusion of one hit deaths, limited continues, restart upon game over, and inability to return to an old save makes Adventure mode ultimately too demanding. Knocking out two of those facets would've provided me with an enjoyable—and still challenging!—experience, but instead I had to play it with a prudent mindset, powering off my DS should I die within the first minute of a stage. Thankfully there is an Arcade mode that lets you play the individual stages with five lives and all of the weapons available, but there's no cozy middle ground between the two modes; you're either playing each level as its own separate experience or struggling to make it through the brutal campaign thanks to its harsh, disciplinarian structure...

... which is a shame too, because the game is pretty fun!

With the shedding of unconventional camera angles comes more conventional gameplay. No longer do you have to pray to the RNG gods for your warping hitbox to avoid damage near the top of the screen—its pretty clear what the size of your ship is and when you'll get hit. Like with the first Nanostray, you have a handful of nifty special weapons available to you, though you'll only be able to equip one of them for a mission (and why would you pick anything other than the highly damaging Ionstrike?). The luminescent satellites orbiting your ship can be placed into three customizable configurations which is neat too, though like with the special weapons you're likely to find something that works for you and stick to it. There's also challenge modes and cute minigames that add some quirky variation to an otherwise standard shmup, but they feel more or less like distractions from the delicious meat of the main game.

Eight decently sized levels are at the core of Nanostray 2, and there's not a lot to comment on here other than that they're a blast to shoot through. Perhaps the most disconcerting thing while playing the game is that difficulty is all over the place: Nanostray 2 peaks in difficulty at Naizoh Habitat (level 3) while Daitoshi Station (level 5) is the easiest in the game. Besides that perplexing roadbump, you'll get plenty of variation from each of the settings and their denizens, whether it be the claustrophobic sewers of Kohai City, the Life Force-inspired organic interiors of the Naizoh Habitat, or the arctic laboratories of Himuro Base. Bosses are also a hoot to duel too, nearly all of them (besides the first) putting up a fair fight on your very first encounter. In a way, it truly feels like Shin'en took everything they learned about level design from the previous titles and applied it here. The game is crisp, clean, and offers some no-nonsense fun from its first stage to its last, no doubt helped by the standardized camera angle.

As prosaic as it sounds, Nanostray 2 in one word is "competent". The unattractive parts have been hewn off in favor for more stability, almost all of the weirdness of Iridion 3D finally stripped away. True, I think it doesn't have heart in the same way the old GBA titles did (their soundtracks probably played a major part in establishing that), but it's not hard for me to recommend Nanostray 2 to STG fans looking for some portable action. Had Adventure mode been more accommodating, I could easily list this as the best shmup designed for handhelds—as it stands now, it's simply one of the best.

(And a special thanks to Manfred Linzner for contributing so much to these games... awesome to see him promoted to director here!)
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Images obtained from: nanostray2.com

Ghouls 'n Ghosts - Thoughts

Capcom's second attempt at the Ghosts 'n Goblins franchise is—without a doubt in my mind—a superb improvement over their original formula. There's a greater variety of stages, more interesting weapons, a gentler difficulty curve, snappier controls, and better design overall. It's still loyal to the G'nG formula (ie, you're going to die and you're going to die a lot) but it no longer leans so heavily on you fighting against lightning-fast foes. Whereas I felt the first experience was surprisingly devoid of merit, the Genesis port of Ghouls 'n Ghosts is when the franchise finally comes into its own, letting you truly enjoy running around in your underwear.

Before I begin, I have to get something off my chest: I think being required to finish the game twice before reaching the credits is dumb. I didn't know before diving into the series that this was a part of every game, believing it to be a design choice that made the first game—not the franchise—infamous. Besides artificially extending the length of the game, it constrains the player into a particular playstyle (since you need to wield a certain weapon to reach the endboss) and makes the loop typically reserved for experts unfortunately mandatory. In most games, replayability is naturally enforced by tiered difficulties or optional paths; forcing the player to retrace all their steps under a specific condition is cruel and unusual. I firmly believe that axing the second replay would go a long way towards making the series more approachable, and dare I say appreciable.

The compulsory replay really gets my goat because I think Ghouls 'n Ghosts is an excellent game barring that one criminal exception. It's similar to Castlevania but sped up to play more like Contra, requiring a mastery of your arced jump but with the stipulation of a sharp reaction time to neutralize any problem you'll suddenly encounter. Sir Arthur doesn't feel responsive but you actually have a surprising amount of control over what happens onscreen, provided you respond quickly enough. Granted, you'll get cornered into plenty of instances that are impossible to escape unharmed, but with infinite lives and two checkpoints per stage on your side, no death should theoretically break your indomitable spirit. The journey ahead is not an easy one, but thankfully nothing like Stage 6 from the original awaits you on your quest.

What sticks out to me the most about Ghouls 'n Ghosts is how frankly odd the levels are. While you still have to traverse through a mountain to reach a hell castle, the locales are a bit more... exotic, shall I say? This time around you'll be traipsing through a stormy forest, climbing windmill-dotted dunes, hopping across a mountaintop of stone heads, and a delving into a gem-encrusted cave, each setting vibrant and distinct from the last. The bosses too are a delight to look at (and battle!), my favorite probably being the double-screen filling slug in Stage 4 that requires you to keep track of its numerous babies in-between attacking its throbbing lung sacs. Though certainly colorful, the game isn't exactly a looker in the same way its Super Nintendo sequel is, but thankfully the bizarre locations and enemies more than make up for it.

Mechanically, Ghouls 'n Ghosts doesn't play any different from its predecessor except in one major area (well, besides fixing the controls): you can fire up! This shows how an adjustment as small and innocuous as adding another direction of attack can vastly change the way you approach foes, Sir Arthur now able to swat them out of the sky before they descend upon his fragile person. You'll often find that if you're struggling with a section or boss battle, it's probably because you're not thinking vertically; even the new and improved red arremers will hastily fall victim to a flurry of knives in the rear. True, the game isn't all that difficult thanks to it (I managed to beat the final level of the second loop on my first try!), but being able to complete the adventure in a single sitting is personally a godsend, not a curse.

Ghouls 'n Ghosts isn't as cutthroat as Ghosts 'n Goblins but it's a far more fun experience by journey's close. Though the mandatory second playthrough still irritates me to no end—especially since if you play on "normal" since there's no noticeable difficulty increase in loop #2—it's impossible to spite the game for it. Its improvements are in equal parts level design and player control, having more fun things to throw at the play along with updating the movement so you can now deal with oncoming threats. No longer do repeated deaths feel like the game is pummeling you into oblivion until luck is on your side—there's always a way out and you're always learning. I think as time spirals on, I'll look back on Ghouls 'n Ghosts and envision of it fondly as one of the best platformers in the Genesis library.

Ghosts 'n Goblins - Thoughts

I am not one to shy away from a gaming-related challenge—in most instances, I welcome it. But drawing the line between something that is "challenging" and something that is "unfair" can often be tricky, especially when looking at the entries from gaming's prepubescence. Nestled between the classic arcade era and nascent modern design (difficulty settings, saves, point-less), games of the third console generation had their fair share of problems finding a way to be challenging without being cheap (though not that many cared). What best typified a product caught between the two was the NES port of Capcom's Ghosts 'n Goblins—a game so tremendously daunting that it demands that you to beat it twice. Relentless enemies and cruel design choices await you if you dare tread upon its accursed grounds (after two hits you're dead!), but spend enough time with it and eventually you'll grow used to its sadistic nature.

While Ghosts 'n Goblins may share many similar external traits with Castlevania—reaction-framed platforming, predestined jumps, high difficulty despite infinite continues—the comparison diverges when you spend time with both. The latter is what I'd champion as a stellar example of how to make a difficult game with a precise control scheme while the former is... considerably less-than-stellar. Around Stage 2 of Sir Arthur's adventure it'll become apparent that Ghosts 'n Goblins is a very sloppy game: the frame rate is choppy, character movements are jittery, flying enemies are far too nimble, ducking tends to glue you in place, and bosses easily outpace and ram the player. Having played most of the notoriously difficult games in the NES library, I can honestly say that none of the other titles handle this poorly.

That's not to say it's impossible to get accustomed to the game's programming, but you certainly have a steep hill to climb if wish to survive until the end (er, both ends). The first red arremer you encounter is the harbinger of ill-tidings that await you, as you'll notice there's not much of a rhyme or reason to certain enemy attacks. Since the smirking devil is locked to your screen and not the location, avoiding his dives and getting hits off on him feels entirely like a gamble, each victory earned under the sweet grace of lady luck (and learning to get those two hits in before he's off the ground). Sure, the game is predictable enough that a no-death run is technically possible, but the initial foray into the world will have you scratching your head at every obstacle. Three separate sections in particular immediately spring to mind: Stage 2-2, Stage 3-2, and Stage 6; the rest of the journey is astoundingly tame in comparison.

Stage 2-2 will see you wrestling with dozens of ladders and beefy ogres that chuck blue orbs at you from above. As soon as you climb to their plane they'll charge at you and camp on top of your character, ensuring death if you allow them to reach you. Combining this with the undulating crows can create nasty situations, since if one approaches your backside while you're keeping the big monster busy, you have to quickly fire a lance at the bird and hope it hits. Tack onto this an awkward platforming section and two unicorns—the Stage 1 boss—lying in wait at the end (the first of which will jump behind you and ram you if you try to power through it), and you have a very bitter drink to swallow not five minutes into your quest.

A whole level later, Stage 3-2 assaults you with a cold nest of red arremers to stop you dead in your tracks. While it's hard enough fighting off one and surviving, having to battle 4-5 of these little devils in a row is a real test of willpower, since two hits is enough to end Sir Arthur. The fact that they lock themselves onto your screen once aggroed will make it tough to shake them (though occasionally they'll fly away), and as I said, trying to predict what angle they'll swoop in at you is infeasible for a beginner. Even when you have the correct route through the level mentally mapped, you'll die, die, and die again trying to figure out the precise timing you need to most quickly dispatch them. Topping off this soul-crushing sundae is a serpent-like dragon boss at the end that's also locked to your screen, meaning its lengthy swoops are just as deadly (oh, and it's immune to your starting weapon, meaning that if you're still carrying the lance you have to swap it out for the awful torch weapon).

Stage 6 is the final trial of the game and an arduous one, asking that you to fight a unicorn, dragon, two ogres, a red arremer, a legion of randomly spawning ghosts, and two Stage 5 bosses all while carrying a specific weapon. Think of something like Ninja Gaiden's Stage 6-2 or Batman's Stage 6 in terms of relentlessness, except instead of insane precision you just need six lucky die rolls in a row. During both playthroughs I had only a fraction of the formula required to make it through this hellhole unscathed, unable to figure out how to avoid damage for each part (towards the end I was kinda understanding how to beat the Stage 5 boss I guess). It's not only tedious and repetitive, but sometimes a skeleton will awaken too soon or a ghost will spawn on your position while you're on a ladder, meaning that if the game desires you dead it'll certainly find a way to make that happen. Your only reward is that the final boss is one of the most hilariously impotent foes outside of Gradius' big brain; there's nothing but a hollow victory awaiting you at the top of this troublesome tower.

I hope it comes across crystal clear from my descriptions, but a lot of this game is about you—the player—not being in control. For every instance where you conquer a red devil a ghost will fire a spike through your skull. Every time you narrowly avoid a stray projectile an ogre will camp a ladder. Every successful battle you have with the dragon on Stage 6 will allow the unicorn to charge right through you on your next attempt. If you touch the game after finishing loop two you'll likely notice you do in fact have a lot more power over your character than you thought, but it never feels like mastery; there's always some situation that will arise that you have no appropriate response for, other than to exhale and bite the dust. And in challenging games like these, as long as you could've deduced a solution, a death doesn't feel wasted—so expect a lot of wasted deaths.

I don't think that Ghosts 'n Goblins is by any means a bad game—I've reached its "proper ending" twice now and don't really harbor any anger or regret towards it. However, I do feel that the game could've been ported better, made more stable, or programmed to be less temperamental... axing loop two entirely from the equation (or rendering it optional) would go a long way to polishing its fondness. It's not a game I'm eager to replay but it's also not something I've sworn off and sold; Ghosts 'n Goblins occupies this weird territory where I want to like it more, but simply don't. The haphazard design, merciless encounters, and wonky controls make it so the experience can only be appreciated through nostalgia or a masochistic lens—viewed any other way, and it's impossible to understand why this game received any sequels.

(please excuse my cruddy laptop camera)

Another Metroid 2 Remake - Thoughts

Back in my Stardew Valley entry, I mentioned how we're in an era where the torches of stale Japenese IPs are being passed onto Western indie devs. Nested in this claim are also hundreds of passion projects based off of the framework of an already existing franchise. Whereas a game like Stardew Valley seeks to leave its own unique mark on the world, there are plenty of fan-made games that aim to honor their predecessors by using an existing engine or creating a new—but unmistakably similar—one. Entries like Streets of Rage Remake, Mega Man Unlimited, and a veritable ocean of Doom wads both honor and expand off of their source material, rivaling (and sometimes surpassing) their elders in quality. Joining this pantheon of fan-crafted greatness is Another Metroid 2 Remake (AM2R), a game that masterfully melds Metroid 2 and Metroid: Zero Mission together.

As a diehard Metroid fan that regards Super Metroid as his favorite game of all time, I'm reasonably skeptical of anything that has Samus' Varia-clad sprite attached to it. The series has a special look and style to it that's not easy to imitate; though dozens of Metroidvanias are released each year, only Axiom Verge has come close to capturing the energy and tonality of the original NES Metroid. Delving into a fan-made project can also be a bit of a gamble, since you're unsure of the level of quality you're likely to get... or if the project leader even likes said game for the same reasons you do. An example of something I was kinda looking forward to was Super Mario Fusion for its clever twist on classic Mario gameplay, before it eventually devolved into an orgy of nonsense. Not every project suffers its fate of course, but I'd argue it's more likely for fan games to dive off the deep end due to a lack of guidance than your run-of-the-mill retail product (er, before the advent of Steam Greenlight I suppose).

Thankfully, Another Metroid 2 Remake suffers no such fate. Samus' old-new adventure remains loyal to its predecessor's design while updating it with the modern hallmarks of a 2D Metroid. You'll find familiar items scattered around slightly-familiar locations (Speed Booster, Power Bombs, stacking beams, etc.), and besides a handful of boss battles and one new area, AM2R follows the Game Boy version's structure quite religiously. There's ruins to plunder, dens to be smoked out, and boiling lava to be drained once you've eradicated enough metroids. Despite the Metroid 2 skin, it looks and handles mostly like Zero Mission (with a handful of tweaks you can apply to make it closer to Super Metroid), which is a blessing since the diminutive Game Boy screen didn't allow Samus much flexibility in the older title. Oh, and the soundtrack takes an inspirational nod from the Metroid Prime series, which fits surprisingly well here.

I cannot stress enough how successful AM2R is in both revering and expanding off of Metroid 2's core design philosophy. If you've never played it before, Metroid 2 is kind of a weird game that doesn't quite feel like the other entries in the series: you're never required to backtrack to previous areas for power ups and a significant amount of your time is spent fighting the ~50 metroids in their various evolutionary stages. It's one part spelunker and another part boss rush; Metroid 2 is the one Metroid game that feels truly oppressive, since you're always descending ever-deeper into the vile metroid nest (plus, the soundtrack and the 2-bit color palette contributed greatly in making SR388 feel dark and lifeless).

AM2R successfully takes these aspects and presents them to the player in a prettier bundle, managing to retain what made the original game feel so unique. There's still a sense of unease to encountering a metroid den or traveling too deep into a facility with no save point in sight. Metroid fights are tense, long, and arduous like they were in the original game, though significantly less dependent on spamming missiles and more about studying/absuing AI patterns, especially in the exhausting Zeta and Omega battles. The game is still centered around the bite-sized areas branching off of the main path, though they're thankfully far more original and less repetitive this time around. And lastly, there's plenty of slow, plodding spider ball portions where you'll travel along the ceilings of vast caverns looking for goodies.

These things may not sound too appealing to you—the metroid fights can definitely feel like a chore due to their high HP pool—but I feel that above all else, AM2R respects its forebearer. The project doesn't look upon the Game Boy entry as a failure that needed refinement, but as an under-appreciated gem that would flourish with a new coat of paint and some classic power-ups added. AM2R treats Metroid 2's enemies and layout with reverence, wanting to do more with them by envisioning what a SNES/GBA port of the game might be like. What conveyed this message best wasn't in the opening moments or all the subtle variations I noticed throughout the game—it was the quiet, ambient jaunt the player takes before reaching the final save point. This monsterless vignette is an extremely odd (and slightly uncomfortable) section in the original Metroid 2 that felt a little out of place considering you're already in narrow corridors for the final fifth of the game, but rather than ax the segment, AM2R's philosophy was to showcase—not replace. I still find that portion a bit strange, but it's cool to see that it's been kept.

Like Metroid: Zero Mission long before it, AM2R practically renders its precursor obsolete. For better or worse, it manages to keep the peculiar design decisions that made Metroid 2 feel so divisive whilst wrapping them inside of a more palatable skin, and each of the new tweaks, sounds, and fights it adds feel right at home. Sadly there are still some things that disappointed me—the final fight in particular is nowhere near as insanely nerve-wracking as its original incarnation (dull might be a good word for it)—but I felt that this entry should be about praising DoctorM64 for accomplishing something I'm sure many were doubting would ever even see the light of day. Honestly, it feels damn good to play a great, new 2D Metroid game in 2016...

... though it's unfortunate that Nintendo doesn't feel the same way about the project.

No Man's Sky - Thoughts

Forget the promises.

Forget the ambiguous interviews, bald-faced deceptions, and misled hype. These issues are no doubt problematic for the future of Sean Murray and Hello Games, but what I want to talk about is the naked beast that rests beneath it all. Behind the mask of this recent consumer frustration is what I would dare call a pitiful game. Forget what it aimed to be and what it may yet become some distant day—playing the No Man's Sky as it currently stands is a chore. I don't fault other players for finding enjoyment in it—tastes are subjective and all that—but a deep game it certainly is not. If you reap no pleasure from its repetitive structure and inventory masochism, then nothing but disappointment shall inevitably await you.

To better articulate the conclusion I've reached, I'm going to walk you through my (very brief) experience of No Man's Sky. The tutorial was a straight-up mess for me, because as awesome as it is to plop the player immediately down into the game world, there's very little direction or proper tutelage on what the player is supposed to be looking for or doing. Sure, I have a crashed ship there, but what are all these things on the ship? What is this laser module I crafted for my multitool? Which elements are more important than others? What does it mean to transfer materials from player to ship? Add to that the constantly decreasing life gauge from the toxic atmosphere, and my introduction to No Man's Sky felt more like a trial by fire than anything.

Not that its hands-off approach was a terrible thing, mind you. Like many players, I feel the game is at its strongest during its first few hours, where everything is captivating because it's new. Roaming the untapped surface of your first planet and feasting your eyes upon the spectacular (and bizarre) randomly generated creatures can be quite thrilling, especially if your home is thriving and verdant. Mine was not however, and wanting to get off of that putrid rock as fast as I could, I made a beeline for completing my ship ASAP. To its credit, the game does occasionally pulse a mission objective at the bottom right of the screen, but it was often interrupted by (paraphrased) "YOU HAVE PRE-ORDER CONTENT TO REDEEM!", forcing me to swap out my ship for the shiny preorder one in order to assuage its nagging.

Launching into space and yearning to leave that hellhole behind, I warp jumped to the next system and began engaging with my favorite part of the game: rigorously naming everything. Having a penchant for nonsensical words (my preferred moniker is dobu gabu maru after all), I dubbed my solar system "Kah Nim Thursh" and set about designating every planet a type of "Kah"—like "Sunburst Kah" or "Drygreen Kah". As each celestial body was a slight variant of a desert biome, I had a challenging (but entertaining) time thinking up alternate names to things like the pale, carbon-rich "Flatbone" and rotund, rocky "Stiffstone". It didn't feel like I was making active progress through the game but it at least felt like these planets were found and claimed by me, their names to endure until the last light in the universe dies out (or the servers go down).

But therein lies the rub—nothing you do in No Man's Sky really matters. Since there's no multiplayer there's no camaraderie or stake in claiming planets for you or your friends. While you can "upload" your findings, there's no communal drive that pushes the game forward, thus no reason to designate something by other than its RNG name. The planets are so large that finding outposts feels trivial, and the weird, tiny steps you take towards advancing the story are so microscopic that stumbling upon a Knowledge Stone felt as fulfilling as finding a generic rock. Combine this with a stupefying amount of patronizing congratulatory screens that take you out of gameplay (like "CONGRATULATIONS ON WALKING 5000 UNITS"/"TALKING TO 3 ALIENS!"), and it feels like your actions in this game may as well be devoid of intention, the design lauding you for simply messing about on its worlds.

This isn't to say I require a guiding hand in all my video games; Minecraft is one of my favorite games because it virtually simulates playing with Legos in a unique and dazzling way. Beyond that though, Minecraft also has an impressive gameplay loop between mining, crafting, and building that keeps you motivated enough to finish each personal objective (like say, creating a fortress in the sky). Even if No Man's Sky was just as "pointless" as Minecraft, it remains inferior because the ancillary elements are wholly uninteresting. Shooting feels poor and awkward, space mining is laughably shallow, planet mining is painstakingly grindy, and the fact that the same space station, outposts, and basic elements await you in every solar systems robs the player of any kind of intrigue or danger. At the very core of No Man's Sky exists only a loathsome inventory management simulator, something that is both awkward yet necessary to interact with in order to progress, and will have you shaking in disbelief at how dumb it can be (I need four inventory slots open to craft the ingredients for one ship part even though I have all the raw materials to make it already? Why? Why? Why?!!!)

I tried to keep my pessimism in check while playing, but my space sojourn had swiftly reached its end when I unfortunately became a permanent resident in "Kah Nim Thursh". You see, since I switched to the preorder ship I accidentally skipped the steps required to obtain the warp drive recipe by jumping to a new solar system, meaning I was SOL unless I could find antimatter somewhere (a necessary ingredient used to travel to a new system which I couldn't manually craft [and I had already bought & used the one in the space station]). I had switched ships again in the new solar system before I discovered this error, and despite my attempt to locate my abandoned preorder ship so I could use its remaining fuel to jump back to my starting galaxy, there was no way to place markers or survey the topography of a planet to find where I had discarded the vessel. Having to choose between restarting the game or forging ahead in hopes that I stumble upon more antimatter, I opted instead to simply abandon the game altogether. There, in "Kah Nim Thursh", my lone space ranger had met his end, the tutorial bubble endlessly suggesting I jump to another system with a ship that was incapable of doing so...

... It was a very fitting way to close out my time with No Man's Sky.

No Man's Sky may put up a strong argument if it was a $20 Early Access title, but its a poor purchase as a released, retail product. Besides getting irrecoverably stuck in it, there was no reason for anyone to visit my "Kahs" and no structures worth seeing that couldn't be seen elsewhere—hell I couldn't even notify people where I was stranded. Each planet contained nothing more than useless, randomly generated materials for me to abscond away with, or psudeo-Spore fauna I could shoot when I got bored of watching them trot in circles. No planet felt like home, no solar system felt necessary, and all I really cared about at the end was mindlessly scouring the surface for inventory upgrades that would allow me to play the game longer. No Man's Sky's true objective wasn't hidden out among the flickering stars, but rather surreptitiously concealed inwards, nestled at the bottom of my stupid, tiny backpack. I walk away from it feeling that despite all the seething rage Mighty No. 9 received at its release, Inafune's effort was at least fun to play.

Shantae - Thoughts

It was hard putting my finger on what exactly I didn't like about Shantae. Since the original Game Boy Color cart is ludicrously expensive, I downloaded the game on my 3DS when it hit the Virtual Console store and only got around to finishing it recently. I played it in chunks that were months apart mainly because the game repeatedly failed to grab me; I kept trying to convince myself to keep playing, that it wasn't a wasted purchase. Finally, after trudging through it, I can conclude that while Shantae looks absolutely stunning, what lurks beneath its polished exterior is a game that excels at nothing.

My main gripe is that Shantae doesn't feel good to play. The half-genie's attack is short and ineffectual, forcing her to pause and stand in place as she whips her hair, freezing the combat and any reaction you might make. This wouldn't be too problematic if enemies took 1-2 hits to defeat, but every single baddie has a ton of health, especially when the sun goes down and their vitality is doubled. You'll soon learn that the best strategy is to simply flee from the lengthy encounters, which becomes frustrating since the cramped GBC screen means you have to react fast to avoid damage. I eventually felt comfortable with the game when I had accumulated five heart containers, merely because I could tank my way through any area at full speed.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention that you can buy a wide range of items to help you tackle your foes, but I found equipping and using these to be more of a hassle than simply leaping over the fleshy obstacles. Avoiding so many enemies also meant that I lacked the funds to purchase attack upgrades (as I was spending all my money on health potions and spinning balls), so I have no idea if those would've helped or not—I didn't want to grind on enemies to find out either (900 gems? Getouttahere!) The only enemies I couldn't skip were the bosses, and they were more or less a mixed bag: some were too easy, some were too hard, none of them really memorable.

To its credit, Shantae looks phenomenal. WayForward (to me) is synonymous with "excellent animation, iffy gameplay" and Shantae is undoubtedly the poster child for their ludography. Jammed in here are elaborately animated sprites, a variety of amazing dances, the aforementioned day & night cycles for every area, and more colorful enemies than you can shake a stick at. The care and attention put into the presentation makes the gameplay that much more disappointing, because you feel the game should play better than it does.

Besides the kinetic parts of Shantae, the design also comes into doubt frequently too. Shantae can pick up animal transformations in each of the game's four dungeons, which is a neat spin on the classic Zelda formula, except that they take abundantly long to switch between. I like the idea behind dancing to transform, but if I knocked Link's Awakening for its cumbersome item-swapping, Shantae receives the same complaint tenfold. The dungeons themselves aren't that interesting either, punishing you with frequent dead ends and containing highly repetitive puzzles that as soon as you've solved once, you've solved a hundred times. Warping between towns is also locked behind hidden collectibles which cripples exploration, since you're pushed to finish the dungeons before exploring each new area—a "better" solution to this would be to have the town warps unlock when you arrive, and use the collectibles towards upgrading your attacks.

I'm not averse to trying out the other titles in the series—in fact, I'm interested in seeing what Shantae's sequels expand on. But the first entry honestly feels like a rough draft, containing too many glaring errors (poor combat, so-so puzzles, terrible world hopping) in spite of its careful construction. The half-genie hero is a lovable character and I think I can understand her appeal, but this is a far cry from being one of the Game Boy's premier platformers. Thus far, you've failed to impress me Shantae.
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Images obtained from: youtube.com, utah3ds.com, engadget.com

Extermination - Thoughts

[contains minor spoilers]

For as close as Dino Crisis stuck to the Resident Evil formula, it remained a memorable (and pretty enjoyable!) game because of it. Mikami's early survival horror style isn't designed for everybody in mind, but the way you're forced to conserve munitions and memorize important intersections is a unique touch that's integral to his design. Survival horror isn't intended to make you feel comfortable—the genre is supposed to stress you out but keep you moving, urging you to learn the intricacies of its mechanics as fast as you can, or doom your save to incompletion.

So what would a bad Resident Evil clone look like? If you've been searching for the answer to this question, look no further than Deep Space's Extermination.

Where to start with this? Swery65 is the brains behind Extermination, which should already provide ample gameplay concerns (I adore Deadly Premonition, but a fun game it is not). Akin to Carpenter's The Thing, the player is whisked off to an Antarctic base that's soon overrun by fleshy alien monstrosities. Despite the Metal Gear Solid 2 resemblance, Extermination most closely mimics Resident Evil, from the limited health pickups, to the constant backtracking, to the scores of notes to read, to the awkward combat, even down to resource-based saves. As you traverse through more of the complex and reunite with former friends, the facility will gradually get more corrupted and new enemies will begin to spawn into old areas... and that's the only commendable idea the game has.

Extermination botches everything else—the combat in particular is an unmitigated chore. You must manually aim to attack your opponents and their weak spots which discourages fighting early on (as it's much easier to run away), and as the game progresses the dollar store abominations gain more and more health. This leaves your gun and its mods feeling greatly ineffectual, especially since the respawning slug enemies are so numerous that it's often more dangerous to fight rather than flee. Add to this the fact that you must stand still to climb over obstacles or enter rooms and you have yourself a recipe for frustration.

To understand why this game can get so aggravating, you must first learn that there's essentially two health systems—your standard physical health percentage, and an infection percentage. Health is easily manageable since you'll come across a lot of pickups, but the infection rate of this game is downright unbalanced. Foes frequently increase the percentage by double digits when you get attacked, and when it reaches 100% you'll start to gradually lose HP (and get stunned when touching water, which is everywhere). Your only hope if that happens is to hobble back to a save room to cleanse yourself, but the much simpler solution is to just restart in order to keep your supplies intact. I know it doesn't sound too bad, but it's absolutely awful considering how often you'll be assaulted by those dastardly slugs. Good luck trying to escape from those slimy bastards too, as I found no reliable method to shake them off before they burst into neon green gas.

The story in Extermination is barely worth mentioning. There's really nothing interesting or unique here outside of the hilariously bad voice acting ("I'll give my LIFE to protect her"). Since the major conflict between the game's central characters happens off screen you're given no means to understand why Andrew is so important to everyone (what kind of guy was he? Why should we care if he died, or if Dennis feels guilty about it?). The most disappointing part about the story is that there's barely any narrative in the notes you find; whereas Resident Evil uses its notes to both provide information and expand its lore, Extermination primarily uses them to give you the most boring, unnecessary instructions possible. Want to read several pages on draining water from the basement of the facility when the solution is right in front of you? What about extensive military orders for characters that get one minute of screen time? How about a three page list of specifications for a 20mm gatling gun? A good indicator of how bungled the narrative delivery in this game is is that only near the end of the story do you discover what the monsters are even called.

Speaking of the end, I cannot understate how stupid the final battle is—it's really, really, really awful. It's only beatable through sheer brute force, as the second and third forms of the boss relentlessly pelt you with damage, meaning that if you have less than 6-8 healing items stocked up you're basically screwed. Despite my playtime being 3.5 hours total, that encounter alone took nearly two hours thanks to the dozens of retries it took me; rarely do I come across a section in a game where it legitimately feels like it wasn't playtested, but lo and behold, Extermination always finds a way to disappoint.

The uncanny similarity between last week's Wolverine and Extermination is that both games punish you for fighting its enemies, but whereas Wolverine is short enough to remain more entertaining than frustrating, Extermination is the exact opposite. Its combat is terrible, its world is boring, its story is barely amusing, and its level design is ultimately shallow (the battery packs are used for what, like four doors?). Every remotely interesting idea gets squished faster than the slugs in this game do—Extermination is arguably survival horror at its worst. Perhaps the only achievement I'll grant it is that—despite its best efforts—the game is at least beatable. Oh, and Roger's death is pretty good too.
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Images obtained from: youtube.com, giantbomb.com