Review: The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess (GC)

Zelda games don't come around terribly often, and when they do it's with extremely high expectations. Looking at Twilight Princess now, it's easy to forget what this game's release was in response to, and why it was framed as the "mature" Zelda the way it was. Though the previous GameCube Zelda, Wind Waker, was highly regarded, series purists discounted its cell-shaded cartoonish style as childish. Thus Nintendo, in a move reminiscent, but thankfully not as extreme, of Ubisoft's Prince of Persia sequel (Warrior Within), gave Zelda nerds what they wanted in a grown-up, more darkly toned game. At least that was the billing. The reality is that TP pretty well matches the teen-Link portions of N64 favorite Ocarina of Time in terms of "maturity" and "grittiness," which is to say, it's a better looking version of what you've seen before.

Unfortunately, for as good a game as Twilight Princess is, a lot of the systems and story beats also feel like they're something you've played on an older system. The "dual worlds" theme was done back on the SNES, and the gameplay and items systems are heavily based on Ocarina's well trodden inventory. You'll be none too surprised to find out that at some point a mystical object is broken into several distinct pieces and scattered across the land, and the only way to recover them is to navigate a corresponding dungeon for each. Forget Ocarina, if you've played the original Legend of Zelda on the NES, you know how this is going to go.

Not that TP doesn't throw interesting change-ups your way, it's just that they simply add to the formula rather than innovating it. The most distinctive new feature of TP is that you'll spend part of the game as a wolf version of Link. Playing in lupine form is fun for a little while, but since you can't use items or alternative weapons, I found myself racing through these portions as quickly as possible to return to my full arsenal. Once you reach the point in the game where you can shift between human and wolf on the fly, being a beast is a little more fun to mess around with, but I often wished I could just have used my wolf abilities without having to change shape since it becomes just another item, albeit a multifunctional one.

For most franchises, the preceding list of grievances would have you believe this game was nothing but a disappointment, but Zelda is a series with such time-tested gameplay structure and clever design, that drawing heavily from the well guarantees quality that at least approaches the genre's high-water marks. Functionally, most everything here flat-out works. If you've played a polygonal Zelda before, you'll feel right at home with TP's Z-, er, L-targeting, its lack of "jump" button, and its item usage. These aspects may not have changed, but everything does feel a little suped up. As examples, you can combine bombs and arrows to shoot exploding projectiles, use not one, but two hookshots (called "clawshots' here) to cling from wall to wall, and learn a series of helpful sword techniques that make dueling more dynamic than it's ever been in a Zelda game.

TP's aesthetic style turns out to be one of the game's highlights, and is for more subtle and nuanced than labels like "mature" or "dark" imply. One of my favorite visual components was the Twilight Realm, a light-bloom filled, desaturated world of eternal dusk. It might not seem like much, but the very idea that there aren't antithetical light and dark worlds, but instead two dimensions that correlate with a more complex relationship was quite refreshing. The Twilight Realm feels bizarre but not entirely foreign since it's just a different version of the regular one. The beings that reside within are a combination of Metroid Prime 2's Ing and computer glitches straight out of Tron. Creatures emit sounds of formerly organic beings that at some point mutated and had their vocal cords filtered through computer garble. There's a part of the game where you have to flee from a group of gigantic "birds" in the Twilight Realm that squawk hair-raising bellows akin to a modulated foghorn, to terrifying effect.

The list of stellar design choices carries beyond just the Twilight Realm. There's the gorgeous Snow Peak mansion dungeon which is like no "snow level" I've ever played before. I'd also like to note the "Hyrule Field Night Theme", which perfectly embodies the feeling of adventuring out into the woods in the dark, both calm and tense at the same time. Then there's the addition of the plucky, occasionally devilish sidekick Midna, who not only acts as your reference guide, but also brings plenty of color to the game's business-as-usual narrative. These pieces are just a small smattering of the ways in which TP successfully avoids a full-on retread of franchise trademarks, and in turn, offers something new to the Zelda-faithful.

I sincerely hope the next console Zelda game (Skyward Sword) significantly changes the way we play this series the way Ocarina did, because I don't think another incremental addition to the franchise is going to do it any favors. At TP's best it's as smart and polished a product as one would expect. But at it's worst, that expectation is met to a very predicable end. I hope this review doesn't sound overly harsh, since I genuinely enjoyed playing through this game for 50+ hours. I just think with Twilight Princess, Nintendo gave fans exactly what they asked for, instead of something they didn't know they even wanted. That sense of wonder is important to Zelda games, and when it shows up in TP here and there, that's when the game felt like something special.

Review: Championship Bowling (NES)

The recent influx of motion controllers in the videogame market has also exponentially increased the number of people who spend time bowling, or at least pretending to bowl. I think I understand where virtual ball rolling gets some of its appeal: you can wear whatever shoes you want, you have less chance of hurting yourself, you don't have to deal with a bunch of annoying kids on the next lane over, and you can stay home/play your own music/etc. While that can be convenient, physical bowling alleys are areas that maintain a behind-the-times ambiance and exude a unique brand of charm. So when games strip away all of the cigarette machines and dusty arcade cabinets, all that's left is simulated pin+ball physics coated with a splash of style in line with the other mini-game collections on you console of choice.

It's with this contemporary backdrop that I'm playing Championship Bowling, a product from a company called Romstar (a great name for a UK grime MC) originally released in 1989. Like bowling, the core game is 10 frames of rolling heavy spheres down a slippery wooden plank. Championship Bowling relies on old fashioned timed button presses to gauge how powerful and with how much curve each ball will be thrown. This is indicated by some self-explanatory HUD devices. That's pretty much the entirety of how the game plays.

There are a few variables to choose from before you begin a game that might accommodate different play styles. There are 4 characters to choose from, all of which look appropriately bowler-chic. There's not much difference in the way each handles except whether they are right or left handed, which affects your ability to hook the ball in particular directions. Since pins are setup symmetrically, it's not really a factor though. Also a matter of preference is the ball weight, which has 5 metered options. The pros and cons of the each size are what you might expect, balancing the scales between power and spin control. Oh and the lanes have 5 color swaps, one of which I found really difficult to see the power meter on my TV.

The surprising thing is that Championship Bowling can be kind of fun. Perhaps this is because the core of the bowling simulator experience hasn't really changed much over the years. It's still satisfying to get strikes and challenging to throw them consistently, yielding ever-prized depictions of turkeys. Likewise, Championship Bowling is a better group activity than a solo one. Bowling is often an activity associated with parties, another aspect that translates well from the real world to the game world. You don't have to pay attention to Championship Bowling or any other bowling game until it's your turn, keeping associated party experiences well-rounded instead of feeling gamer-exclusive.

Championship Bowling can be a bit frustrating for 2 reasons: party-killing music, and the rarity of strikes. Short in its loop, incessant in its repetition, and skull-gnawing in its melody, your television's mute button was invented to deal with tunes like the one Championship Bowling spews out. Doing so will also cancel out sound effects, but the noises employed here won't be missed. Something that will be missed however is at least one pin on the first bowl of each frame. Something is wrong with your bowling game when I can nail splits that I'd never be able to replicate in real life, but will finish 10 frames without a single strike (and around 9 spares). The exactness with which you must align, power-up, and hook shots to knock all 10 pins down is far too unforgiving. I'll wholeheartedly concede to modern bowling games on these two fronts.

I hope we'll get a break from bowling games for a while, seeing as they're now on every system on the market, and an individual console definitely doesn't need more than one of them. At this point, if you're seeking a bowling videogame, just pick up one for whatever controller you like best. As for Championship Bowling, there's not really much reason to go back to it, though, music aside, there's not anything horribly wrong with it either.

:screenshots from VGMuseum and Giant Bomb:

Review: TaleSpin (NES)

Having just reviewed Capcom's DuckTails game, their take on TaleSpin seemed like a fitting companion piece. The two have a lot in common, visually and structurally, despite fitting into totally separate genres. While they both seem to be marketed towards kids, the difficulty of TaleSpin doesn't dwindle as soon as you figure out how the core systems work. In fact, TaleSpin relies on pattern memorization and quick reflexes to a degree that will challenge most first time players.

TaleSpin is a side-scrolling shooter that requires you to dodge enemy fire, pick-up money and cargo, and defeat a boss character at the end of each of the 8 worlds. The game starts you in a frustratingly underpowered position, allowing you only one shot at a time, and clunky maneuvering capabilities. It's worth stomaching the first level and collecting enough money in the process, because you can use the cash to upgrade between stages. I found that getting the rapid fire gun as soon as possible made the gameplay much more pleasant to work with.

Even with an engine upgrade, the movement controls can feel sluggish from time to time. As a nice touch you can press A and flip your plane around backwards, making the screen scroll left instead of right. Unfortunately you can't flip while moving up or down, stunting the fluidity of an entertaining genre alteration. In general, every game mechanic is a bit of a chore to use until outfitted with the proper upgrade, at which point that device becomes enjoyable. I understand this concept as an incentive builder, but it's killing replay value for me because I know I'll have to drudge through those early stages if I want the game to become fun again.

I appreciate the challenge that TaleSpin throws at you, particularly with some of the boss encounters and the well-hidden bonus worlds. The final boss was the most satisfying and arduous to take down, which is just how I like my action games to end. It's a plane vs. plane dogfight followed by a battle against an immense airship. In order to supe up your flying machine to a level that can compete with these tyrants, it's helpful to gain access to secret bonus worlds. These minigame stages let you rack up points and extra lives with ease by simply piloting around an enemy-less area, popping balloons. Hunting down these locales encourages you to swap between left and right scrolling often to fully explore each area's nooks and crannies.

TaleSpin's flaws end up denting the overall experience, but certainly not rendering it undrivable. Even more so than DuckTales, TaleSpin demands your respect, as it's not to be taken lightly despite it's cartoon tie-in.

:screenshots from Giant Bomb:

Review: DuckTales (NES)

Thinking about the broader concept of DuckTails as a "thing" is a bit mind-boggling. Nonetheless, numerous strings of duck-related cartoons and merchandise poured out of Disney in the late 80s and early 90s. The culmination of this has to be the point where duck-branding seeped into the real world as a professional hockey team. Considering all of this, Capcom's DuckTales game for the NES seems pretty understated and an example of a game that rises above the cash-in tendencies of most licensed fare.

In the game you play as Scrooge McDuck, crotchety mansion dweller and greedy treasure seeker. In an action-platformer style, you cruise through 5 levels, collecting precious gems, uncovering hidden treasures, and defeating several bosses. From the outset you're given a choice of which of the 5 levels you would like to begin with. The non-linear approach is pretty striking, though there does seem to be a planned progression to the levels in their given order, since the designs do gain slight complexity later on in the Himalayas and on the Moon. All in all, the path doesn't matter too much as there's just a cakewalk of a boss in each that needs to be defeated to get the special prize for each world.

The traversal does take some getting used to though. You can jump, but can't kill enemies by simply jumping on them Mario-style. In what is actually a needlessly complicated motion, in mid-air you can press and hold B and down, and Scrooge will start hopping on his cane like a pogo stick. Now you can stomp enemies, reach higher platforms, and open chests, and you'll keep hopping as long as you hold B. It's a fun twist on gameplay that had become pretty conventional, even if getting into the hopping animation takes a little more effort than it should.

I had a hard time making it through DuckTails at first, and was disheartened when I read reviews claiming how it's so easy. I don't think I approached this game with proper respect though, as the change-up in control scheme will make this feel like a different kind of game, and it takes getting used to. That said, once you do get it down, and figure out where the bosses are, the difficulty ratchets down tremendously and I found myself blazing through the entire game in no time. There are higher difficulty settings to add more challenge, but it becomes clear eventually that this game was probably meant for the younger set.

As a kid's game, DuckTales is really fantastic, but even without that qualifier it's pretty fun. There's a lot of exploration to undertake if you want to collect as much money as possible instead of simply conducting speed runs. The game seems like the type of thing that would have entertained me for hours back in the day, scouring print-outs of maps and hearing rumors at school about secret passages. In 2010 the brevity of the adventure keeps it from having Zelda-esque immersion, but consider how much more you're getting out of a licensed DuckTails product than what you were reasonably expecting.

:screenshots from Giant Bomb:

Review: Abadox (NES)

If the intro cinematic for Abadox doesn't get you excited to play it, I doubt anything I say will change your mind. The setup seems pretty simple. You play as a blaster-toting spaceman who must cut a path through the insides of a living planet-sized alien. The action alternates between side-scrolling and top-down perspectives in classic on-rails shooter fashion. Abadox isn't a perfectly balanced game, but it does have an impeccable visual flair that upholds and builds upon the more-than-competent shooter skeleton.

The analogy of visually overlaying a skeleton is particularly apt in Abadox too. In a genre where it's pretty easy to default to jets, tanks and other standard military combat fare, Abadox rises above a lot of the competition with its disgusting, fleshy art direction that still carries over despite the 8-bit representation. Giant tongues writhe and intestinal masses twitch as disembodied eyeballs and teeth attack from all sides. Altogether it amounts to one of the most creatively repulsive-looking games I've played.

By all accounts, Abadox operates as a serviceable shooter, and true to the hardcore leanings of more contemporary takes on the genre, it's strikingly difficult in a few places. There is an emphasis on pattern memorization and flawless maneuvering to the degree that continuing after your first death (enemies kill you in one hit unless you have certain expendable power-ups) can be a frustrating struggle. After a fatal mistake, your character is reset to just after the most recent boss battle with only your initial bare-bones abilities, expounding the treacherousness of the part of the game that was already difficult to pass with an upgraded arsenal. If nothing else, this forces you to learn the intricacies of the enemy placements, which will inform successive playthroughs.

That said, I seemed to die by running into walls as much as anything else. So, when the game allows the spaceman character model to overlap solid surfaces a little on the top and bottom, the inconsistency of what counts as "contact" is magnified as a significant problem in a game that asks for such agile pathfinding. I'd have to assume that the flipside of this "bug" is that it's an attempt to compromise on the lessened negative space that exists as a result of using relatively large character models. These detailed sprites help set Abadox apart from other similar games like Life Force that may control with more fidelity but offer only minuscule shaceships or indistinguishable triangle forms as protagonists.

Abadox distinguishes itself visually as a unique slice of genre-fare with a solid Konami-like soundtrack. It can satisfy some impulse-play tendencies, but once some of the more arduous levels pop up, Abadox increasingly becomes a casual gamer's nightmare. Abadox is far from being a purveyor of "bullet hell," but it's also not to be taken lightly.

:screenshots from VGMuseum:

Review: Metal Gear (NES)

As I'm playing many of these acclaimed game franchise originators, I've noticed that some possess certain core elements that make the game a blast to play even on older hardware, and others seem overly ambitious or less-than-fully-realized until further iterations down the road. Metal Gear definitely qualifies for the latter category. For example, the first descriptor that springs to mind when I think of the Metal Gear series is "cinematic," owing a significant debt to the movements of the camera in a 3-dimensional space to convey a story across cutscenes in Metal Gear Solid and beyond. This debut game, ported from the truer MSX computer version, isn't able to pull off, in large part, what are understood as the concepts that Metal Gear does best.

This isn't to say that Metal Gear is totally lacking in Hideo Kojima signatures (behold the cardboard box!), but they do come of as underdeveloped in many cases. The largest innovation Metal Gear brought to the table was the notion of stealth gameplay, which stood in substantial opposition to the run 'n gun and brawler games that the action genre was so saturated with. The idea of not destroying everything that moves was certainly novel, as was the narrative twist (along with the something's-not-right-here hints) towards the end of the game. Seeing those two aspects carried out at what feels like such an embryonic stage for the Metal Gear franchise was my favorite component of playing Metal Gear, because it felt like I was seeing the beginning of something great.

You still take control of Solid Snake here, infiltrating the oft future-referenced Outer Heaven stronghold, to rescue POWs and gather intelligence about what kinds of heinous activities are taking place there. You're dropped off on the island in the jungle with only your fists and a pack of cigarettes at your disposal. Early on you learn how to use cover to your advantage to sneak up behind guards and take them out quietly. Throughout the game you will build an arsenal of weapons and gadgets that will make handling unfriendlies much easier and allow access to areas of the map that would have been otherwise restricted. Freeing POWs and responding to transceiver frequencies will prompt you to the next destination and provide hints for items to look out for.

The problem is in how the game actually plays, despite the grandiose framework it's supposedly built on. The efficacy of the stealth method is often compromised by indecipherable hit detection. When you approach an enemy from above, it's a touchy guessing game to see how close you need to be to land a punch. Character movement is also a bit clunky as Snake frequently gets snagged attempting to hug around corners. These aspects suck some of the cool factor out of the Escape from New York-inspired protagonist.

I can't go any further without addressing the cumbersome and tedious menu system, which interrupts the flow of the game throughout its entirety. You can assign one weapon and one item to your A and B buttons from the menu screens, but anytime you want to switch, you must reenter the menu and choose the new item. Other games have pulled this off without issue as even the original Legend of Zelda comes to mind. The main flaw here is that the game is full of doors that require 1 of 8 keycards to pass through them, and each of these cards are represented as separate items on the menu. This means approaching a door and pausing and unpausing the game up to 8 times until the correct card has been found. It's baffling in the face of such a simple solution as recognizing the highest rank keycard in your possession and allowing doors to open accordingly without having to individually equip them. I'd recommend keeping a map handy just to eliminate the trial and error process. Finally, with regard to the menu, it's worth mentioning the inconsistencies of its button navigation. The "back" button varies depending on which section you're looking at, making even simple menu navigation require memorizing an obtuse control scheme.

There remain a cavalcade of other minor annoyances in Metal Gear that serve to mar what could have been a truly great game. Each caveat adds it's own brand of monotony to the proceedings, leading you to trudge through one poorly designed element after another. I won't list all of the issues individually, but the point is that what this game lacks that the Metal Gear Solid series really utilized to its advantage, is polish. I understand that Kojima has dismissed this NES port as some kind of bastard child, but regardless of where the blame lies, even he understands where this forebearer fell short. And no, Metal Gear is not a bad game, but it's certainly not up to the usual standards of the pedigree behind it.

:screenshots from VGMuseum:

Review: Pixelated (Mobile)

This past weekend after my Samsung Instinct touchscreen phone died, I picked up a sharp new BlackBerry Curve and set out to see what apps I could download for free. A quick stop at the Top 10 list gave me the game Pixelated by Ebscer, which turns out to be a simple and addictive little puzzle experience. The game sort of plays like a combination of 7up's Spot for the NES and Tetris if you play with the random garbage blocks turned on to fill up a level. Beginning in the upper left corner, you have 21 turns to switch the entire mess of colored blocks on screen to one color. You select one color at a time to decide which color of adjoining blocks to convert next. Soon the rectilinear blob will be overtaking the rest of the squares in waves as you make strategic decisions as to which color selection will yield the greatest advancement while also tunneling the most effective avenue across the board.

Pixelated's appearance is as basic as it gets, this side of color TV. The squares are as directly geometric as they sound and there are no graphical flourishes or sound effects to correspond with the moves you make. That said, the game doesn't really require any of that, and it's otherwise justified by the game's nonexistent price tag (unless you want to Plus version, which has extra difficulty settings and other options). I basically made a competitive analog version of this game 2 years ago using construction paper and a tile floor, so I understand why Pixelated's banal aesthetic has it's own brand of appeal. Also, this being a mobile game, the easier it is to distinguish between objects, the better.

I'm just speaking from playing the free version, but one of the keys to Pixelated's addictiveness is the 21-move completion point. For the size of the board, 21 moves is the perfect number to maintain a relative level of difficulty and force most rounds down to the wire. I actually enjoy how the free version doesn't display a move counter, adding a degree of suspense when you whittle the screen down to a couple of remaining squares and you wonder for a quarter second whether or not you've got enough selections left to complete the round. Maybe I'm being overly dramatic about what is essentially an on-the-go twitch puzzle experience, but I still see a simplistic elegance at work.