Then I wrote a blog post about the motorcycle stage in Mega Man X7

Yeah but you know what does have great hover bikes? Mega Man X7. It doesn't, but I'm glad to see they at least tried for a 3D version of the then-established variety stage. And the fact that the bike accelerates rather than blandly auto-scrolling almost inherently makes it the best iteration of the always weak gimmick. Unfortunately, there's something terribly wrong with the steering mechanics that I can't quite put my finger on - it might actually be what's been described to me re:Outrun, that X-velocity and Z-velocity are totally independent, combined with a 3D Sonic camera that doesn't stay behind the vehicle (e.g. a left turn will have the camera placed so the road snakes from the right edge of the screen to the left).

Whether or not the controls are something I could get used to, the design of the stage is especially trashy, just a narrow corridor littered with boxes, hostages, and the now-iconic Runnerbombs. (It's pretty amazing that "Runnerbomb" isn't a name that I made up, although maybe not as amazing as the fact that a Runnerbomb's modus operandi is to stand in place and throw bombs). Each of the obstacles/enemies spawns on-screen with a bright teleporting-in effect that saves the game from needing a draw distance - it's good for drawing attention visually and shows that the developers at least understood that you can't just have enemy pop-in (I really am describing an Outrun remake, huh?). The downside is that Runnerbombs, which need to be avoided, and hostage reploids, which need to be collected, have near identical silhouettes that make every decision whether to dodge or collide a last-second one. That gives the already cluttered layout an extremely haphazard mouthfeel, and, since this is X7, the heroes have enough reserve HP to just plow through everything. Which is important, because all of this is operating on a time limit.

Yup, continuing on from the brilliant structural mix-up of the intro level's cyclops-walker arena-showdown, the bike stage deviates from standard traversal/survival gameplay towards an actual racing format. Not entirely racing, thankfully, but the objective is to grab (all) 20 time-bombs planted across the course loop before the countdown timer reaches Zero. The player can drive as fast or slow as they want, but can't turn around, so missing a bomb means needing to speed through another lap to come back to it. The mission ends instantly as soon as the 20th bomb is collected. Given this collection objective structure, you might call this the long lost final level of Sonic R.

Indeed, I should probably mention that the Maverick ruling over this high-speed terroristic attack is branded Ride Boarski. I'm going to go out on a limb and hypothesize the name is a reference to Polish sausage, you fill in the details.

Ultimately the whole experience is like the opposite of the PSX/Battletoads-era cycle rides where any minor deviation from the exactly plotted course is instant death. Since the layout requires constant last-minute course correction, the slippery mechanics make that especially difficult, and there's plenty of time for multiple laps, the most productive strategy seems to be starting off barreling forward as fast as possible, grabbing all the low-hanging fruit, then on later laps slamming on the brakes whenever a bomb is known to be coming up. Like other points of comparison with X5 and X6, X7 isn't really better, but it's at least more interesting.

We got one hella interesting ass game goin on right now: Way of the Samurai

That's right. Way of the Samurai for the PS2, the first in a series of four puzzling but presumably niche (and accordingly "budget") samurai games. Widely ranked as one of the five most unsolved mysteries in modern anthropology, the question of "Who is the Way of the Samurai?" piqued my interest enough to prompt an extravagant $6 expedition to the Amazon. Below are my findings - perhaps this new research will lead to the ultimate unraveling of how each game in the franchise could have drawn reviews ranging from the rock bottom (5) to the tippy top (9) of the standard 10 point scale.

I don know if this is Zoness??? [the reason], but it turns out Way of the Samurai is basically "an arcade man's Shenmue". It's a open-world real-time quest-driven dialogue-centric occasional-brawling and cheesy atmosphere. Seems like the game mostly consists of wandering the countryside picking up odd jobs. Chat up a guy, choose to help him or choose to fight him, maybe it'll trigger a story event or point to a longer-term objective. Move on to the next whatever. Sometimes you'll be wrapped up in scripted scenarios ("missions") but it seems more often like individual storyline progress is player-driven (making them "quests"). I can't say I've played Shenmue, but the brawling stitched into this RPG framework looks like what I know of it.

Also a thing I think I've heard of from Shenmue (and if not, at least Majora's Mask): everything in Way of the Samurai  has a daily schedule, so non-player characters can be found at scripted points doing scripted things at scripted game-times. The schedule kicks off in real-time from the moment the game starts and runs for two days (there might be a specific event that triggers moving from one day to the next, not sure about that yet). Dying resets the entire (<2 hour) campaign and there's no saving, so the whole thing is pretty much meant for a single sitting (there is exactly one mid-game suspend point that allows a minor reprieve). For the record, that's what's meant by "arcade-style" - that there's no saving. That word gets used in a lot of disparate contexts. Anyway, just because you only get one life doesn't make the game a rogue-like for god's sake. 

But Way of the Samurai does feel rogue-likey. Although the environment, population, and schedule are identical from game to game, interactions with non-player characters tend to be mutually exclusive - as in, if you fight a guy, you can't also sign up for his club. Even combat provides more than a binary outcome - dying ends the game, but the player can also choose to surrender, allowing them to continue with the story having lost the fight. A player who sucks at combat can still finish the game, even if they'll miss out on most of the story branches. And because the population operates on a schedule, deciding to visit X person at the Y-minute mark might necessitate missing out on something else. With an open world and no overarching objectives, playthroughs can feel pretty completely different and experimentation becomes necessary. Ultimately that's the "Spirit of Rogue-like". Of saaaaalesmannnnn.

A task-based upgrade system spreads that experimentation to combat and character building. New fighting moves can be unlocked in a weapon's repertoire by performing specific actions in certain contexts or sequences. The objectives for learning these moves aren't explicit, so the player needs to explore the combat system to discover them. The reward for experimentation is layered - if the player accidentally lands on some random unlock combo, the bonus is temporary (because the unlocked move goes away when the game is reset), but if they understand what they did they can repeat the unlock every time they start a new game or get a new weapon.

From a couple hours of messing around and completely sucking at combat, Way of the Samurai feels like a pretty interesting game. In the last year or two I've really picked up on the potential of short RPGs - sadly that's generally restricted to redundant rogue-likes, but you get the occasional gem like Crimson Shroud. I like character-building and story-influencing *IF AND ONLY IF* I'm given room for experimentation instead of being committed to every ill-informed choice for 72 hours. Way of the Samurai offers not only that, but also Soul Calibur-esque 1-on-1 brawler combat. That's a good recipe. A good recipe for destruction!




































OF SAAAAAAAAAALESMANNNNNNN!!!!!!

Platformer of the Month Dec. '14, Maximo: Ghosts to Glory Part 1

The platformer is the seminal genre of video game history. Always adapting to trends and technologies, never out of style, it provides an underpinning for the action games of era after era. Platformers are responsible for our sense of space and navigation; they form the bridge that transports reality into digital worlds. Without platformers, we'd all may as well be playing shuffleboard. Each month the Platformer of the Month Club dives into the deep well of platforming history, hoping to find forgotten treasure or even an extra life. 

Game: Maximo: Ghosts to Glory
Year: 2001 (JP), 2002 (NA)
Developer: Capcom Digital Studios
Publisher: Capcom
Platform: PS2

From the heartland of the 3D platforming era (1998-2003) comes this Capcom gem meant to bring Sir Arthur and his Ghosts 'n Goblins into a new era of 3D platforming (1998-2003). Unfortunately, Arthur fell into a wormhole somewhere during the transition and the developers were left with a new vaguely centurion-themed hero called Maximo (because the one thing we all remember about Ghosts 'n Goblins is that it was set in ancient Rome).

Perhaps more surprising for a Capcom game than for a 3D platformer, this one comes to us from the land of opportunity: Capcom's North American Digital Studios. While never finding its way to the "killer app" shelf, Maximo played an early role in distinguishing the PS2 as the console for old-school gamers - those who valued traditional challenge over wimpiness (Xbox) or not having any games to play (Gamecube).

To this day Ghosts to Glory nurtures a legacy as one of the hardest games of the sixth generation, forcing save management and limited lives on doughy soft gamers who were growing to view their $60 retail as a ticket to the end credits. But is Maximo: Ghosts to Glory really as grandma-rapingly brutal as legends hold? And if so, is it actually worth finishing? Hopefully you've got enough lives to reach the end of this feature and the answers you seek.

[Note: because this is a multi-hour, multi-session game, we've divided coverage into two parts, the first of which will be dedicated to mechanics and the contents of worlds 1 and 2.]

How is the game's aesthetic appeal?
Yourself: With character designs from the legendary guy who did character designs for Adventure Island, Maximo flaunts a googly-eyed cartoon look. This lighthearted approach works great for a mascot platformer, carrying through exaggeratedly warped landscapes. Matched with the game's would-be grisly subject matter - skeletons, swamp monsters, and grim reapers - the style takes on a Halloweeny sense of humor. It's more spooky than scary, if you will. The wackily chattering military skeletons can't help but remind me of Army of Darkness.

Sorry for the garbage screenshots. I can't find decent ones and have no way of capturing PS2 images.

The graphics hang onto the classic N64-era look, skimping on textures and favoring clean, well-defined polygonal surfaces. This accentuates the surreal impression of the shifting, sometimes floating architecture, allowing the game to look good even on a big-screen HDTV. Oh, also, everything is shot at a dutch angle. Just because.

Golem: The cartoon horror approach goes past Ghosts 'n Goblins and brings to mind something more like Decap Attack, where each enemy and setpiece has its own exaggerated, comic appeal. The way skeletons' skulls whirl in circles after being struck, or heck, just watching them shuffle around is worth a chuckle.

As for the soundtrack (by television's own Tommy Tallarico), it's sadly short on melodies; while fitting in tone, they aren't half as memorable and catchy as the visual presentation is. Ah well.

How does the player character and camera control?
Golem: Maximo walks at a decent pace, with just a tiny bit of momentum applied. The PS2's standard issue analog stick grants responsive 360 degree control. He can double jump in mid-air, which is useful for reaching higher, going farther, or reorienting his trajectory partway. There's more air control than in Ghosts 'n Goblins as well, allowing refinement of jumps in midair. Finally, Maximo knows a few sword swings (lateral, overhead, and air-to-ground stab) which are then complemented by new moves granted by pickups.

Yourself: Sword attacks are speedy and short range, but there's no one-two-three combo here. Maximo pauses after every swipe - a vulnerability more reminiscent of Castlevania than Mario 64. To his advantage, the horizontal swing covers an almost 270-degree arc. I find the double-jump to be more useful for re-steering than for heightening and lengthening leaps - it gives me an extra moment to consider my landing.

Maximo also wields a shield that can be held up to block attacks from directly in front. One of the most fundamental power-ups (which I only mention here cuz it gets its own button) is a Captain America shield toss.

The camera sits just above an over-the-shoulder angle, giving a long forward view with a relatively limited horizontal and vertical FOV. If we're comparing to the Super Mario 64 gold standard, it's similar to what Golem calls "The Close-up to Mario". There's no free analog control, but one shoulder button provides first-person free-look and another auto-center.

How are character-specific mechanics varied?
Yourself: In layman's terms, Maximo is a jack of all power-ups. His gear can be divided into two simple classes: sword magic and ability tokens. Sword magic is straightforward enough: depending on the element, the sword increases a degree in power and gains a special side effect - the ice sword freezes, the light sword is strong against undead, etc. Each sword power-up fills Maximo's magic meter, which then depletes anytime he lands a swing. When magic runs out, the element disappears.

Ability tokens are more varied. Some grant new attacks: the shield toss, a follow-up sword swipe, or a sword thrust that carries Maximo a bit forward. Others modify standard abilities, like a longer sword and a wider spike shockwave. A few are special moves that enhance the elemental swords, like a projectile and a magical shockwave. Then there are shield elements which can make blocking reflect damage, inflict knockback, or vacuum up coins.

Overall there are about a dozen different ability tokens. Abilities always stack (with a single exception: shield elements overwrite), though Maximo will lose most of them if he dies. From the start of the game he has three "lock-spots" - the first three tokens gathered fill these lock-spots and stick around even after death. With each world conquered, Maximo gains a new lock-spot, such that in the final world he can have seven abilities that carry on after death.

Power-ups have fixed natural habitats, meaning that early in the game you're likely to come across the basic abilities and later you'll find more powerful ones. Because of this, your locked abilities won't change much between playthroughs. The first three slots are almost guaranteed to be shield toss, thrust, and follow-up - that's pretty much all you encounter in World 1. Each sword element is generally associated with a certain world, though every once in a while you'll see one out of place (fire in particular shows up throughout).

Golem: Discovering the powerups of each world lends a sense of fun to the game. With the heritage that Maximo has, you might expect a harsh, punishing game where each powerup should be approached with cynicism--but instead, I always found myself excited to learn what new abilities Maximo would find. It was gratifying to learn that his sword could extend its reach or that he could freeze enemies. Plenty of powerups are throwaways, too, but a number of them are real boons.

What kind of items are present and how are they distributed?
Golem: Some items power Maximo up, like health potions for restoring health and extra armor for extending the health bar. Others grant new attributes or abilities, like the electric shield or the forward sword stab. Aside from those, you've got coins for buying items from shops as well as keys for opening chests and gates. All of those can be dropped by enemies, collected from chests, or found just laying around the world.

Each world in the game also has a particular container for storing fairies, which grant continues. For instance, in the first world, glowing headstones will cough up fairies if Maximo attacks them.

In short, there's quite a variety of items.

Yourself: The game has one of those classic platformer pause menus with six bobbing icons in the top right corner indicating how many glowing jubles you've collected, but in actuality collection is practically driven. Because lives are limited over the course of the game, continue-granting fairies are must-grabs. Coins too are doled out at a pace such that a player grabbing everything in sight will have access to many more life and armor power-ups than one rushing through.

What kind of navigable elements define the landscape?
Yourself: The first couple worlds tend to alternate between flat corridors adorned with dangerous terrain and small floating platforms that may or may not move. Note that when I say "floating" I don't necessarily mean "suspended in midair" - I just mean that they're islands surrounded on all sides by a hazard or drop.

The popular dangerous terrains for world 1 are some kind of purple grave moss from which erupt damaging skeletal hands and instant-killing hot lava. World 2 uses two similar equivalents: water to drag the player's speed down (which occasionally contains alligators who burst up for a quick hit) or water too deep for Maximo to tread (death). The placement is a bit different - the purple moss tends to be along paths or on small platforms, inflicting danger if the player dodges the not-accidentally-placed enemies in the safe zone. World 2's swamp water usually is the main path, with platforms along the side solely to provide a respite from the danger. World 2 also has an in between hazard in one particular level: tar. The player can walk through a tar pit for ten or so seconds before sinking down to a permanent grave.

Patterned moving platforms are fairly rare - in the first two worlds they only appear in a single stage. Traditional falling platforms also make an appearance in World 1's "Coffin Canyon". Jumps are more often made difficult by enemy occupation of the landing (and launching) area.

Flat, open spaces are very uncommon, so the player is rarely forced into arena combat. The choice is usually whether to jump past or linearly eliminate threats. Since the game is mostly made up of floating platforms, enemies won't chase you too far.

Golem: Maximo loves small platforms and thin corridors, so combat is often in tight quarters. This keeps the combat/platforming pace at a nice clip, making sure you rarely face more than a few enemies without an interesting jump.

What kind of enemies impede progress?

Golem: Enemies take a few hits to fell, but they're aggressive enough that each encounter demands focus. Each one has a distinct attack pattern, whether it's the shield-bearing skeleton that loves to block hits or the bomb-spitting flower that's vulnerable in close quarters. Their tactics never grow very complicated, and the game instead focuses on squads of enemies. Your standard skeleton may not seem like a big deal until he's got a flower backing him up from far off.

Yourself: Many enemies only spawn when the player approaches. Thus the first element of defense is simply awareness, the ability to grasp what kind of enemies might be spawning (each level has a fixed set), where they could spawn, and how to react at that time. A skeleton slowly pulling himself out of the earth is vulnerable to a quick aerial attack, while a coffin shooting up can bump the player away - or, at the correct distance, permit a preemptive strike. Later on metal coffins will do damage and bounce back sword swipes. Within the same realm, treasure chests occasionally turn out to be mimics, requiring the player to clear the area and take their time when collecting bounty. Just the spawning behavior here requires a lot of skill to manage.

Enemies tend to work within defined territories, from patrolling halberdiers to sentinel crows to river alligators. A key element to progression is learning to identify an enemy's threat zone in order to either isolate it or avoid it altogether. Crowds are dangerous, as Maximo's shield only faces one direction and a blocked attack causes a lengthy recoil; equally dangerous are the precarious ledges that border battlegrounds.

How are individual levels built from these elements? Does this facilitate exploration?
Yourself: Levels are pretty linear across the first couple worlds, sequencing together platforming corridors and usually more enemy-heavy rooms. A corridor might task the player with running across a series of cliffs that fall out from under their feet or jumping along moving platforms floating down a river. Typically projectile and patrolling enemies are laid out at fixed points that may make them easier to dodge then fighting, like an axe guy on an island near the floating debris or a halberdier guarding the far end of a plummeting bridge. Melee enemies tend to spawn where you least want them to, like on an open-edged platform that provides a resting point between tighter jumps.

World 2 seems to prefer this type of design, with "'Dem Bones" dedicated almost exclusively to long stretches of bone platforms over tar pits, "The Quick and the Dead" to the aforementioned debris sailing down a river, and "The Village Level" to high moving platforms and tree-branches. The aforementioned alligator-infested water propels the player forward without allowing them time to wander.

What I call "rooms" are areas where linear progression is halted by a locked door, large numbers of enemies, or a non-obvious path. The world 1 stage "Dead Heat" sees the player enter a courtyard containing six sarcophagi and three sepulchers. The only way to get through is by passing a locked gate guarded by a halberdier. To find the key, the player needs to open each thing that houses dead people. Enemies spawn once the player enters each sepulcher and a few spawn points lurk around the sarcophagi too. The door can't safely be unlocked without first killing the guard.

These are a bit more common in World 1. There's the thing I just said from "Dead Heat", and "Coffin Canyon" ends with a similar series of rooms, the first a graveyard with a locked door and the second another sepulcherville with a hidden switch. The opening stage, "Grave Danger", uses mostly wide graveyards with hidden paths and spawning enemies along either side.

Golem: Within each room, the path to the next room is typically laid before the player. For instance, in the "Dead Heat" sepulcher example, one road leads between a series of tombs and up to the locked gate. Meanwhile, each sepulcher is locked and coffins lie ready for ransacking. The thing is, once you open a lock or open a coffin, you're liable to trigger an enemy spawning. A quick playthrough will stick to the road, while a full clear will open up each sepulcher.

Enemies spawn only when Maximo gets close enough, so exploration comes with the risk of damage. Maximo rarely obscures the main path, making such excursions a choice rather than the result of haphazard trial-and-error.

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Clearly Maximo: Ghosts to Glory has a lot going on. We'll be back with part 2 to fill you in on the back half of the game, the bosses, and our final impressions!

Lives lessons in Devil May Cry

I've never really seriously played the first Devil May Cry, though I've gotten through a lot of 3 and beat DmC almost twice now (someone just cringed). There was a sale on the HD Collection (think it's over now) so I figured that was a good excuse to make myself finish 3 and also to finally give 1 and 2 a try.

DMC is more Resident Evil than I was ready for. I know the whole history where it started development as Resident Evil 4 (isn't it delightful that after a million redesigns, the process of envisioning a fourth Resident Evil gave us both the modern melee action and over-the-shoulder shooter genres? It always makes me sad to hear people say they'd rather RE4 have been survival horror again. It's also funny that DMC was banished from the RE series when Shinji Mikami thought it had become "too cool and action-packed". Then Leon Kennedy did a flying roundhouse to knock a zombie monk into a pool of lava.), but it's got more exploration and puzzles than I'd expect based on my knowledge of Kamiya and the series' later entries. The map is more to the tune of Resident Evil's Spencer mansion than it is to Bayonetta's extreme hallways. It actually lends the game a nice creepy atmosphere where on my first pass I'm always a little distracted trying to keep track of locations and get a jump here and there when enemies jump out. The fixed camera angles lend to that too.

But this is Devil May Cry, right? I'm Dante! Who cares if enemies jump out, because no longer am I constrained to tank controls and fixed aiming angles - Dante can dish out relentless strings of stunning blows on enemies that aren't half as fast as he is. It takes something more to amp up the tension, to stick to that survival feel, and that's where the lives system comes in. Yes, lives. In an action game. People love those, right?

Devil May Cry uses a limited lives system; the expendables are called "yellow orbs", because seriously I have no clue why they couldn't come up with a real name. At least it's not "chips". It works like this: you start the game with a stock of 3 yellow orbs, and any time you die one is consumed to revive you at the beginning of the fight, with all enemies back to their starting state. The only way to replenish your stock is to buy more orbs at the shop, costing precious limited resources that could be used toward upgrades. Thus the total supply has a ceiling, and it doesn't regenerate between levels or upon loading a save file. So the game is pretty much telling you: you better have a really good reason to spend one of these.

If you don't want to waste a yellow orb when you die, you'll have to start the level over again. Luckily, levels are short and familiarity with the layout pays off big time - as in Resident Evil, fifteen minutes of wandering and a dozen battles can be cut to five minutes and three battles once you know where you're going. Levels are tightly parsed (at least at this early point in the game - I'm only on Stage 6) such that objectives remain clear and paths are easily memorized - this isn't RE where in the first five minutes of the game you'll get a key that you need to use ten hours down the line (though, fast fact, it was only very late in the development that they added the mission structure). The end result of encouraging the player to reset if they die is that they get immediate feedback on how they're improving their gameplay in the short term and can quickly get a grasp on how to conserve health and orbs. The game becomes a minimization problem, bringing it all back home to its survival horror roots.

While this resetting does entail some redundant gameplay, it should only be in accordance with the player's lack of skill - that is to say, they should only be replaying parts they haven't yet mastered. The combo scoring system, an entire fifty-page discussion of its own, also encourages the player to get the most out of revisited areas through bettering their combat skills.

The yellow orbs still come in handy though - they're a crutch, but a necessary crutch. There are naturally those times when you come up against a new challenge - the first boss for instance - that kills you so quickly that you don't know what the fuck just happened. It'd be a pain in the ass to restart the level just to reach that point and get instantly killed again, so the yellow orbs allow a quick retry point so the player can keep focused. You can burn through orbs learning the boss, then when you think you're ready to give it a real go, load up your save and make one clean pass through the level. This allows the game to maintain challenge at a dual scope - honed in on individual fights with orb revival, and broadened to level survival compositing the individual challenges for a 'final' run.

Here today, Godzilla tomorrow: Learning to adapt

Sometimes, when a licensed property is planted in fertile soil for just the right amount of time and administered just the right amount of care, a metaphor is born. Lavished with love and tenderness, that metaphor may just grow up into a fresh bowl of shredded cabbage.

Super Godzilla and Godzilla: Save the Earth present different facets of the character. The Godzilla character, not the shredded cabbage. We're off the cabbage thing. Move on already.

Besides supporting a series of substandard plots, underdeveloped characters, and contrived science fiction, there are two main activities associated with the G-Man: destroying cities and fighting monsters. After all, most of his movie titles are built from the words "Godzilla", "Versus", and "Destroy" (Godzilla vs. Destroyah cuts right to the chase). So it's only natural that in playing a Godzilla game we'd expect to control some egg-huffing reporter/cop who has to convince his boss that some giant monster is about to go crazy, and we'd expect to completely drop out of the game and have nothing to do after about 20 minutes. Or we'd want to be a young, optimistic politician/military officer who has to rally Japan's defense forces in their futile struggle against the unstoppable G. I kid, but it only took one adaptation before Godzilla 2: War of the Monsters (NES) shifted gameplay to a Famicom Wars army-versus-Godzilla structure. While there's certainly something to that approach, the most obvious appeal of the Godzilla franchise is shifting the Big Bad Beast into the protagonary role, giving us a break from fighting monsters and lettings us play as one. As Godzilla, the players are going to want to smash, crash, and bash; elements any decent adaptation would be wise to incorporate.

2004's Godzilla: Save the Earth and 1993's Super Godzilla are indeed decent adaptations. They let us control Godzilla, they let us wreak havoc on civilization, and they let us go toe-to-toe with other towering foes. They let us drive a Godzilla-shaped bus, eat Godzilla-shaped cereal, and brush Godzilla-shaped teeth using a Godzilla-shaped toothbrush.

Godzilla: Save the Earth is the easier game to describe, so let's start there. One of the main things Godzilla has done is his half-century as our spiritual guide is lay waste to other big dudes. Particularly in the late Showa era (~1966-1975), Godzilla served the function of a gigantic reptilian Hulk Hogan. The kaiju had human personalities, their own signature move-sets, and match records to defend. This was the era that gave us Destroy All Monsters and All Monsters Attack. Save the Earth was a semi tie-in with 2004's Final Wars, a revival monster mash that made for a temporary sendoff to God-Z and his over-sized compatriots, so it's to be expected that it's a 4-player 3D arena fighting/wrestling game the likes of Power Stone and other games in that genre that I don't play. Rakugaki Showtime? That's such an obscure reference I'm not even sure it fits here. Anyway, Save the Earth isn't completely off-the-hook Party Fighter; the big focus is on one-on-one matches, and practiced strategy is enough to overcome ad-hoc "equalizing" mechanics like power-ups and environmental attacks. It kinda goes without saying why this works for the Godzilla franchise - of course we want to select from the classic kaiju lineup, of course we want to battle it out across cities, of course we want multiplayer mayhem. The entire concept is a no-brainer, it sells itself.

Save the Earth, in accordance with the film era that inspired it, is very man-in-a-suit Godzilla. When we step into Godzilla's (or any other kaiju's) shoes, we aren't necessarily restricted in unusual or specific ways any more so than when we take over Sub-Zero or SoulCalibur. It looks like we're playing as a giant monster, but doesn't inherently feel like it. Godzilla controls like a human. BUT!, Godzilla's capabilities and surroundings are not in keeping with those of a normal human. He towers over a fully interactive playground of office blocks, skyscrapers, boulders, and oil tankers. The uniqueness of this interactive incarnation of the Gentle Giant comes from what you can do, not how you do it. The game gives us control of a massive all-powerful abomination and lets us gleefully run rampant in the sandbox of civilization, freely flexing our new-found might without limitations. Chuck buildings? Swat helicopters? Swing a radio tower like a club? You better believe Godzilla can in Save the Earth. It's a game that lets our imagination run wild over what it might be like to have a tiny city at our feet - what it might be like if we were the man in the suit. It's a game about the abstract concept, appeal, and potential of Godzilla.

On the flipside, Super Godzilla lets us feel like we've stepped into the films and wormed our way into the cinematic flow. The Heisei film run (1984-1995) focused on the antagonistic, monolithic nature of the big G, painting him as mankind's terrible curse that repeatedly comes back to punish us. This fully animalistic Godzilla is indifferent to humanity, often destructive but occasionally manipulated to good ends. Super Godzilla sticks with this framework and the general storytelling rules of the movies, using a human cast to bridge the player to Godzilla and providing only second-degree control of the monster. The conceit, if you'll allow me to use that word in a way that it is not supposed to be used but frequently is, is that Japanese scientists have developed a device that draws Godzilla in a certain direction, north, south, east, or west. (This feels loosely based on the "bird-machine" from Godzilla ('84) that used magnetic "bird-waves" to draw Godzilla into a volcano). Godzilla marches forward on his own, but the player sets his direction as indicated by an onscreen arrow. The split-screen interface pairs a symbolic tracking map with a widescreen video monitor on the beast himself, steadily plodding forward. When Godzilla moves through an obstacle we watch on the monitor as he autonomously interacts, tearing terrain to pieces and shrugging off gunfire. The boss fights likewise implement a heavily cinematic spin on fighting games, in which the player needs to time attacks with Godzilla's and the enemies' "fighting spirit" to execute lengthy cut-scene specials.

The player gets the sense that they're barely in control, clutching the reigns of this relentless force, struggling to coax it to the desired goal. They can never concretely specify a path or destination (or an attack in the boss fights), left with the imprecise means of the Bird Machine. Godzilla can't be expected to wait or make intelligent decisions on his own - direct him through a building, and he will crash his way through. He is a dumb animal, but a powerful one. That makes it that much cooler that we have even a little bit of input - our limitations show how powerful he is, while the extent of our influence is enough to make that power feel our own. Super Godzilla puts the inhuman, savage power of Godzilla in the hands of the player.

Save the Earth and Super Godzilla make a pretty interesting pairing, both as different types of Godzilla games and as different types of adaptations. Save the Earth decides to hone in on the most game-ready aspect of the franchise and run with it as far as possible, letting the player indulge in the sensation of control in a familiar setting; "if I were Godzilla, I would...". Super Godzilla recreates the movie-going experience from top to bottom, establishing the core audience participation that defines the films: the simultaneous awe and terror in response to Godzilla, the notion that this is a horrifying, destructive monster... that is also essentially innocent and thus fun to root for. The real battle is for control of Godzilla. It's kinda interesting that the more cinematic and what could be called more mature interpretation is the one that came out in 1993. Anyway, what we have are two really great adaptations. Great games by their own right? Who cares. No one's trying to sell them without the 'Zil. But absolutely a great case study in how to successfully translate other media into video games.

King's Field IV: A Treaty Bird, revisited

No I don't have any clue what King's Field is. Did he run out of Quests and start assigning farming duties instead? Apparently it's a series that runs far longer than the brain existed. Game has weird controls. We're talking pre-dual-analog FPS. I don't know why they opted for pre-dual-analog controls when dual-analog controls were right there in front of them and had been established for like, I don't know. Since Turok at least. You have to use the shoulder buttons to strafe and the right analog to look up and down, it's like Goldeneye or something.

Apparently this was what From Software was up to before the reign of Demon's/Dark Souls, since the PSX era at least. Slow-paced first-person exploratory adventure RPGs. Hrmph. Not exactly my cuppa tea. I tend to like action-heavy or adventure-heavy games, making a game about exploration really hard sometimes kills my spirit. I do it for Dark Souls because it's damn fun, even if an emotional roller-coaster. The games... well they have their audience. I'm giving it a try, reluctant though I may be, because niche games often click with me. It's also appealing to the eyes and ears, which keeps you moving.

I'll say that so far I've only played like a half hour and I've successfully: missed the first weapon they give you, and died three times without yet finding a save point. I uh don't think I'm doing it right. And you thought Dark Souls was unwelcoming. Yes you did. Fucking idiot. Not gonna have time to delve much deeper for a few days at least, so we'll have to return to this later. Suffice for now to say, yeah it has a LOT of elements in common with their now popular games.

This is kinda stimulating though because now I know what From Software is. Before, I was all, "where are these guys From? Software?" They're one of those companies that makes the same game over and over and over again, making a tiny little tweak here, a midget little tweak there, releasing it year after year. And the fans take adamant, unflinching stances on which is OBJECTIVELY the best. It's a formula most prominently associated with Capcom and their iterative series: Mega Man, Resident Evil, Street Fighter, so on. That's not the same incarnation we're dealing with here though - this is something specific to the niche market, catering to an exact person's tastes (and not costing too much on the development end). I'm talking Koei, Nippon Ichi, Natsume; Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Disgaea, Harvest Moon. Add From Software and games about exploring a cursed and barren land to that list.