Super Mario World 2: Yoshi's Island: 3HN Egg Layer

 Several weeks ago, my wife and I discovered a garage sale at a nearby house. Being a collector of retro videogame cartridges, I am usually open to browsing at garage sales, but certain garage sales are more likely to have older game cartridges than others. Primarily, I look for the age of the house and neighborhood; if the house and neighborhood is around 15 to 20 years of age, the owners are more likely to still have the artifacts of their children's pasts, namely toys and games. I also look for economically middle-class areas because people there probably had enough disposable income to purchase video games back in the day, but not enough to live in a more affluent neighborhood. Also, I tend to think that wealthy people just throw their old junk away, while middle-class people tend to save their junk in the hope that they will sell the junk... in a garage sale. At least, that's what I do.

Anyway, it was at that garage sale many weeks ago that I recovered two SNES cartridges: NBA Jam and Super Mario World 2: Yoshi's Island (heretofore Yoshi's Island). As I wrote in my previous post, NBA Jam for the SNES was a shadow of what it was in the arcade, and that's saying much because I wasn't a huge fan of the arcade version of NBA Jam. Thankfully, I only spent about $1.50 on it, so it wasn't a massive monetary drain. Conversely, Yoshi's Island was (as many other reviewers have written) and is a wonderful gaming experience. When it was released in North America in 1995, I was at UCLA starting my third year of study. I have no recollection of its release, mostly because I was a Sega Genesis owner and a sports gamer. Like many SNES games I have since purchased, Yoshi's Island had passed me by at its time of release and was unknown to me for over a decade.

Yoshi's Island is a platforming sidescroller in the grand tradition of most games in the Super Mario Brothers/World franchise insofar as you need considerable skill to leap from platform to level, you encounter ground-scurrying baddies, and it involves Mario. However, Yoshi's Island turns the Mario concept on its head: instead of you playing as Mario and riding Yoshi as in Super Mario World, you are Yoshi and you must carry baby Mario to the end. When you are hit by a baddie, you lose Mario as he floats away in a bubble. Knowing that your very survival in the game depends on retaining and delivering baby Mario to the end of each level, you must recover Mario and keep him safe from danger. All the way, instead of just squashing your foes, as with Super Mario World, you can ingest your opponent by latching onto your opponent with your sticky tongue and pulling them into your mouth. In addition, you can lay eggs and throw them at foes, which is odd because isn't Yoshi a male? Okay, so sea horse males carry their embryo offspring, so I suppose that Yoshi is exceptional like sea horses (and whatever other animals about which I am ignorant).

Yoshi's Island also departs from its predecessors in how it is rendered; the foreground of each level is an oddly harmonious mix of digitized platform elements and ground textures painted as with watercolors and broad black strokes. The background is a bit more reminiscent of Super Mario World with rich and intricate details, yet with virtual brushstrokes that sometimes engender the feeling of strolling through some kind of digital painting. The bad guys range from the familiar mask-wearing guys from Super Mario Brothers 2 (the North American version, that is) to spitting fish and even end bosses that seem to be full of hot air. Yoshi's Island also departs from its predecessors with its music, which benefitted from the capabilities of the SNES with many layers of melody and rhythm. In 1995, I'm sure that players of Yoshi's Island may have been blown away when considering that, only 10 years previous, the music had come a long way from the simple, albeit memorable melodies of the original Super Mario Brothers. If anything, I'd liken this game's music to a much more upbeat Super Metroid or even a game that was released around the time of Super Metroid: The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past.

Speaking of Super Metroid, level navigation is also a departure; you don't just go from left to right, but up, down, and all over the place. There are also numerous secret staircases and passageways to challenge the seasoned platformer. Moreover, the jumps and movements require precision and practice, much like Yoshi's Island's ancestors, but the ante is raised with even more frantic platform movements. Added to the tricky gameplay is the concept of non-linear level progress. Watching a playthrough on YouTube, I am reminded of Super Metroid in the ability to retrace your steps in a particular level, though you don't seem to revisit past rooms to find new items that are now attainable because of previously-acquired abilities like in Super Metroid. That said, Yoshi can acquire some nifty abilities as the game progresses, such as blasting tunnels out of rock and those allow you to advance more readily.

This review does not do justice to Yoshi's Island. Since I recently acquired this game, I have yet to scratch the surface of this adventure, but what I've seen thus far has impressed me immensely. As with many games of the past, there is much more challenge (and sometimes cheese) than today's games. I believe that many children and adults are missing out on some of those classic gems, like Super Metroid, Link to the Past, Sonic & Knuckles, and Yoshi's Island. Furthermore, games on the SNES (and some on the Genesis) were able to save your progress, so gaming in the mid-90s had hit that sweet spot of being able to play a meaningful game for a good amount of time, yet being able to walk away and enjoy your day, knowing that you could continue where you left off tomorrow or next week. Nowadays, games are so engrossing and so entrancing that people wile away consecutive days on-screen. Because of this, I continue to mine the past for treasures like Yoshi's Island: games that are wonderfully challenging but easy to set aside for other things, like Euro-style board games.

Super R-Type: 3HN Mindless Frustration

Call it a compulsion to extend my family's classic game collection or an odd desire to expose my boys to the finer, less modern games out there, but I'm always on the lookout for classic Super Nintendo or Genesis games. I read reviews and watch players' recorded longplays to isolate those games that exemplify the best of those consoles. Sometimes, I hit gold with games like Super Metroid or Super Mario World, but I also encounter duds, like OutRunners (which I may review in the future - it's a dull, split-screen racing simulation on the Genesis). Before Christmas, I turned my sights on side-scrolling spaceship shmups (shoot-em-ups) because our collection didn't feature one. There are several out there, including the venerable Gradius series and the R-Type series (both of which spanned the NES and SNES). I vacillated between Gradius III and Super R-Type for the SNES; what swayed me towards Super R-Type was the price on eBay, where it was 50 cents cheaper that Gradius III. I must admit that this is a dumb reason to choose between games, but I bought Super R-Type, wrapped it up, and gave it to my sons as one of many Christmas presents.

Okay... I'll just summarize my thoughts: Super R-Type is poor. Yes, the graphics are colorful, the aliens are eerily eye-popping, and the in-game sounds are crisp. My issues with this game are not the presentation of it, but the gameplay. As one may expect, side-scrolling shmups are no-brainers: you fly, move top to bottom, shoot things with your basic weapon, acquire stronger weapons, and then blast more baddies to smithereens with those powerful, acquired weapons. Super R-Type is no different, but (as far as I can tell) you only use three of the six available gameplay buttons on the SNES controller - that's a waste. Also, I must say that the second mini-boss is just too HARD to beat; I had to watch someone else's longplay on YouTube just to figure out how to destroy that spinning metal gyromite (Do you like the NES reference?). The first level should ALWAYS be a breeze when the game is set to the EASY setting; but, in Super R-Type, I have yet to get past it, so one can imagine how discouraged my boys were playing the game.

Super R-Type is almost exactly what I would expect from a side-scrolling space shmup: one lone ship, some power-ups, endless squadrons of baddies, and loads of mini-bosses. Considering this, I cannot fathom why I felt it necessary to add such games to our family collection because, honestly, I have always found them dull and pointless (except for Zanac, which continues to grow on me). My boys seemed to agree as they gave up on the game after 10 minutes of frustration. I can't blame them, though I will revisit this game in a feeble attempt to pass that second mini-boss. So, don't believe the hype. My advice is to stay away from side-scrolling space shmups, and avoid the confounding, mind-numbing blandness of Super R-Type.

Sonic the Hedgehog 2 as Knuckles: 3HN Tips and Tricks

Among all the Sonic the Hedgehog games for the Sega Genesis, some gamers put Sonic 2 on top, even over subsequent releases like Sonic 3 and Sonic & Knuckles (S&K). This may be for several reasons: Sonic 2 added Spin Dash, more speed loops and runs, and Tails to the Sonic 1 formula; the zones are much shorter than Sonic 3's or S&K's zones; the end bosses are challenging but beatable compared to the nastiness of S&K; and, in my opinion, the music for Sonic 2 is much more memorable than past and future offerings (save the Green Hill Zone music of Sonic 1, which is iconic). But, there is something even better than Sonic 2 on the Genesis: lock Sonic 2 onto the Sonic & Knuckles cartridge and you get to play Sonic 2 as Knuckles the Echidna, who can glide and climb walls, but runs more slowly and jumps lower than Sonic.

Knuckles brings a fresh approach to Sonic 2 that opens up new tactics and options for navigating zones. Here are some of the tricks I have learned while playing Sonic 2 as Knuckles:

1) In both of the Emerald Hill Zone acts (i.e. levels), you can glide over most of both acts by accelerating at the beginning and then gliding. Just to get through the Emerald Hill Zone quickly, this tactic may be worth the attempt.

2) Unlike playing Sonic 2 as Sonic, when you play as Knuckles, you do not lose your ring totals after going into Special Zones to try to claim Chaos Emeralds. With this in mind, you can conceivably get four emeralds in those two acts. I recommend doing this instead of trying to retain rings in more difficult zones that follow.

3) In the Chemical Plant Zone, be sure to climb all the high places you can find. These places are added to Sonic 2 by the extended programming in the S&K cartridge to not only provide Knuckles with areas to climb and obstructions to prevent his gliding through the zone, but also with areas to house 1-ups and power-ups. In the second act of the Chemical Plant Zone, you can find at least two 1-ups inside tower-like structures that Knuckles must scale to get.

4) In the Aquatic Ruin Zone, stay well above the action below by gliding and running on the higher platforms. The two acts of this zone are notorious for its extensive stretches of submerged landscape, which require Sonic (or Knuckles) to find sources of oxygen before he drowns. With Knuckles, though, you can remain high above the water for some of those stretches if you glide.

Well, these are the tactics I have used so far and they've been quite effective. Playing Sonic 2 as Knuckles takes a superlative game and enhances it. In time, you may find that you prefer playing Sonic 2 as Knuckles... or you may get "nostalgic" for those days when Sonic and Tails conquered the Emerald Hill Zone and teamed up to defeat Dr. Robotnik's Love Buggy at the end of the zone. Good times.

Maui Mallard in Cold Shadow: 3HN Duck Disappointment

In one of my previous posts, I dubbed the Disney character Donald Duck as the top Sega Genesis game character in terms of personal nostalgia; with a tough and determined demeanor that belies his Disney cute factor and with underrated winners under his belt like Quackshot and World of Illusion, Donald Duck has certainly earned the top spot on my list. So, when I won Super Metroid on eBay last year and a Donald Duck game called Maui Mallard in Cold Shadow was packaged with it, I was pleased to get two games for one.

Unfortunately, unlike Donald Duck's Genesis titles, Maui Mallard on the Super Nintendo is lackluster not because of its graphics (with colorful and sharp backgrounds and character sprites), the animation (which is fluid and comical), or the in-game sound (which is good by SNES standards), but because of its gameplay. One problem is figuring out where to go. Playing the first level, it is initially confusing and difficult to know where to go; for example, I had trouble solving how to enter the background (outside of the house) from the foreground (inside the house). Once I overcame that, I found it annoying trying to navigate in the background with walls and window edges in my field of vision. Even after I successfully returned to the foreground, I could not easily determine where to head (or what to do) to exit the level.

Okay... I realize that it may seem lame that I cannot navigate the first level. Admittedly, Super Metroid is all about figuring out where to go; like Super Metroid, I could just watch someone's longplay video on YouTube or read a walkthrough to solve Maui Mallard. Anyway, it isn't navigation that makes Maui Mallard almost unplayable as much as the slippery controls. In Maui Mallard, jumping feels imprecise, running feels like sliding across ice, and shooting Donald's gun lacks the "fun" factor of Quackshot. What is he shooting -- tomatoes?!

Navigation and controls are the two major gameplay elements that bog down Maui Mallard, but I must also mention the act of collecting objects. Is the point to simply amass a higher completion percentage? I wasn't sure and I grew to not care after a few minutes of gameplay. After a while, the game felt pointless, which is not as much a reflection of gameplay as a lack of a cohesive story. Who is Maui Mallard? Why do I have to wait until later levels to turn into Cold Shadow, the icy, deadly ninja duck? What's the point of having to transform when I could just be a ninja throughout the game?

Yet, more important than these questions was my concern about the "Eastern philosophy" elements in the game, such as the Taoist yin-yang symbol and ninja iconography, as well as the Polynesian-type idolatry present. What kinds of images would be impressed upon my sons' minds when viewing these symbols? All of these questions flooded my mind as I turned off my Retro Duo and pulled out the Maui Mallard cartridge.

As I wrote this post, I pondered how Maui Mallard and Super Metroid share some similar features: laudable graphics, vivid sprites, platform gameplay, somewhat baffling and confusing level navigation, and tracking of percentages of items collected are aspects of both games. Yet, unlike Maui Mallard, Super Metroid features fluid gameplay with accurate jumping and movement along with special abilities gained as the game progresses. Super Metroid also affords Samus Aran wall jumping, which comes with much practice but is available from the game's onset. Maui Mallard is plagued with a feeling that you have little control over where Donald Duck goes and, eventually, little desire to go anywhere. Sadly, because of this game, Donald Duck doesn't rank too highly on my list of nostalgic characters on the SNES.

Sonic the Hedgehog 2: ?HN Speed Ringer

It's the Christmas of 2009. Wanting to expose my young sons to games from a more innocuous gaming era, I bought Sonic the Hedgehog 2 and gave it as a Christmas present along with several other Genesis and NES games and a Gen-X Dual Station clone console. I am not sure if I had played Sonic 2 before that time, but the presence of Tails seemed to trigger a latent memory from long ago... In any case, my boys really enjoyed Sonic 2 because it was fast, you could make tons of mistakes and still survive, and the first levels are really easy. The level of difficulty gets ramped up, though, as soon as Sonic and his buddy enter the Chemical Plant Zone. From there, the platforms become harder to land on and speed, if used at the wrong time, can kill more than it can help.

Sonic the Hedgehog 2, like its predecessor, Sonic the Hedgehog, is a classic game. Some fanboys acknowledge it as the best of the Sega Genesis era, though some may tout Sonic 3 ahead of it. With everything from the standstill Spin Dash (which you perform by pressing down on the D-pad and tapping any one of the Genesis controller's buttons repeatedly) to more speed parts (e.g. a lot more loops, bumpers, and slopes to dash down) to Tails (who is especially helpful when a second player grabs the controller at the end portions of each zone where Sonic fights Dr. Robotnik), Sonic 2 introduced many of those Sonic gameplay aspects many have grown to love. Yet, Sonic 2 can also be frustrating with the underwater zone (and the need to catch air bubbles before drowning), annoying critters that shoot barely visible projectiles that cause Sonic to burp up all his rings, irritating jumps that can be difficult because of Sonic's inertia (think Chemical Plant Zone), and Tails (who dies endlessly at any obstacle). Nonetheless, for a seasoned platform gamer, this game is essential.

All of that said, it wasn't until recently that I began to appreciate platforming games. Back in college, I had no patience for the pinpoint accuracy some of the jumps in platformers like Sonic 2 and Super Mario Bros. required. I also couldn't stand the monotony of level after level of moving platforms and hazards -- at least, that is what I used to think. Now, with sports games ascending to a new height of gameplay difficulty, platformers have an inherent simplicity that is refreshing and escapist. For these reasons, I now enjoy Sonic 2, though I must say that with all of his speed and coolness, Sonic is a less accurate jumper than Mario of Super Mario World. Compare the two games: you'll find that there is a lower margin for error in Sonic 2 than Super Mario World. Just an observation...

Super Mario Bros.: The Lost Levels: 3HN Cheesefest

One month before Christmas, I was determined to get yet another classic game cartridge for my sons (and me): Super Mario All-Stars. This SNES cartridge includes not only all three Super Mario games from the NES, but also a game that had not been previously released in the U.S. -- Super Mario Bros: The Lost Levels. This was the selling point to my wife: if I get this cartridge for my sons, it would include three games with improved graphics and sound (compared to the NES), and an additional fourth game. She wasn't fully convinced, but she humored me, so I got it.

Here's a little history: The Lost Levels was actually Super Mario Bros. 2, which was first released in Japan shortly after the classic Super Mario Bros. The prevailing rumor/fact was that the original Super Mario 2 was TOO difficult for U.S. kids (really?) and TOO similar to the original Super Mario Bros. Thus, what the U.S. got was a game (called Yume Kojo: Doki Doki Panic in Japan) that was repackaged as Super Mario Bros. 2; but, The Lost Levels were eventually released as a part of the Super Mario All-Stars compilation.

Anyway, we've had the cartridge for about a month. My sons have had little desire to play any of the games on it as they are currently fascinated with Super Mario World, but I have dived into the games, particularly Super Mario 2 and 3. However, I have been playing Lost Levels for the last couple weeks, and I can say with some certainty that this game is littered with cheese. Indeed, this game is hard... really hard, and needlessly so. How can a game be "needlessly hard?" Let me give you an example: in World 2, Level 2, there is a point where there is an impossible chasm across which you have to jump. You can't jump it, you can't turbo jump it, and you don't have the benefit of a tanuki suit, raccoon suit, or cape (from Super Mario World) to help you across the chasm. Okay, there's a pipe way up in the sky, but how do you get to it?! Well, if you jump around enough, you will eventually find a secret block. Okay, so I found that block, but I still can't reach the pipe. What do I do?! Once again, if I jump around, I will eventually find ANOTHER hidden block. If I jump on THAT block, I can reach the pipe, but then I have to turbo jump from atop THAT pipe to make it across the chasm. Sheesh! Though I'm up for a good challenge, hiding blocks that necessitate reaching a point that would already present a difficult jump takes away from the fun of this Super Mario game and renders the game more of a test of patience than a pick-up-and-play classic. Thankfully, you have unlimited chances to continue and try again, but gaining an intimate familiarity with the Continue screen is no way to enhance one's life.

Throughout Lost Levels, the frustration is in full effect with nigh-impossible jumps, crazy falls that require accurate placement, and death mushrooms which come out of Question blocks that kill you! I have a funny story about these mushrooms: in World 1, Level 1, the first special mushroom that I encountered when I first played Lost Levels was this purple mushroom that emerged from a Question block. "Ooh, this must be for some new ability," I thought. Little did I know that it was a poison mushroom that would automatically kill me upon consumption! Oh, and there are surprise areas that actually hinder gameplay! For instance, if you over-jump one stage-ending flagpole in World 3, you are taken to a Warp Zone, but that's not a good thing: it's a Warp Zone to World 1! Who'd want to do that?! It can all be frustrating...

Furthermore, I must comment on the game's controls -- more so than the first three Marios (which we know as 1, 2, and 3), Mario's momentum sends him forward and off many platforms if you're not especially careful. Mario also hangs longer when he jumps, which threw off my timing when bouncing off one foe to land on another. I have lost count of how many times I have died bouncing off one opponent only to land behind another, thus touching the foe while on flat ground and dying instantly. The controls feel different from Super Mario 1, 2, or 3, as if Mario were on the moon. It's difficult to describe, much like it's difficult to control Mario with any accuracy.

The Lost Levels plays with your Mario sensibilities, turning what we've been conditioned to accept as "rewards" such as mushrooms and Warp Zones into bad things! Now, you have to be careful about where you go and what you get. You also have to contend with a Mario that hangs in the air just a bit too long and had a braking distance that is just a bit too long. This is not challenging -- this is cheesy. I mean, I like the first three Mario games because they're challenging, but they're fun and the challenges are right in front of you instead of compelling you to find hidden blocks to advance... for the most part. Anyway, there's a feeling I have when playing The Lost Levels as if I have to get every move just right in order to succeed -- there is no margin for error, and this is what separates this game from the fun of the first three Mario games and Super Mario World after it. In my opinion, games have to have even a small margin for error to preserve the fun of the challenge. After all, we are all human and incapable of performing perfectly every time. We all need the space to make a mistake or two. You may disagree, but that's why I liked Super Mario Bros. 1, 2, or 3; you didn't have to stick a perfect jump every time, but you did need to do it occasionally.

Nonetheless, truth be told, I will return to this game again and again... until I beat it. Wouldn't that mark a "great game?" Let me get back to you about that. In the meantime, I had better get used to cheese.

Battletoads Double Dragon: 3HN Violence

A few months ago, I wrote a relatively lengthy post about violence and how Christians must assess the violent content of any game. Recently, I borrowed Battletoads Double Dragon for the SNES, and by the standards of 1990s videogames, this game is pretty dang violent.

Battletoads Double Dragon is basically a beat-um-up side-scroller that combines two NES games: Battletoads and Double Dragon. Battletoads involved three anthropomorphic toads and Double Dragon featured two muscular dudes. Combined, you can choose from any of the five characters; and, like both predecessor games, you can team up with another player.

What's the point of the game? To kick enemy butt -- that's it. You (and another player) run from left to right punching, kicking, and throwing any foe that crosses your path. From a gameplay standpoint, this game is a disappointment. Out of the six possible buttons, there are only two buttons used for unique functions: attack and jump. It's like Tradewest ported an NES game directly to SNES and upgraded the graphics, but retained NES gameplay. In this way, the game is lackluster.

Otherwise, Battletoads Double Dragon is mindless and oddly cathartic, though it is disturbing that dudes beat up on whip-wielding ladies, as skanky as them may be. I can say with certainty that this game does not exemplify Christ, but if it's any consolation most of the foes are robots and alien creatures... I will be returning this game to the coworker from whom I borrowed it. I am thankful I didn't buy it.

Super Metroid without a Walkthrough?! Ugh!

Last weekend, I had some free time after everyone had gone to bed and I had poured a couple of hours into a presentation for Historical Linguistics class, so I decided to pop Super Metroid into my family's Retro Duo console. Up to the point where I had saved my game, I had been using a walkthrough that was posted on IGN. It has been a good walkthrough, but more written from the perspective of a speed player who is trying to beat Super Metroid under 90 minutes. However, I have found that following a walkthrough word-for-word can be tedious, sapping the fun and adventure out of Super Metroid. So, I decided to just wing it and play without the walkthrough...

For the most part, I did well enough. Because I had saved my game in Maridia after defeating Draygon, I still had to find a reserve tank and a missile tank. I found these items easily enough after navigating for 30 minutes using Samus' map screen. It was after that when things got tough as I worked my way to Norfair, where I spent five minutes trying to get a missile tank located on the other side of some crumble blocks, got into a nasty fight with an evil Torizo, and then acquired the Screw Attack. After that, I tried to screw attack/space jump my way up a massive room, only to have the Space Jump (I loathe Space Jump) work half of the time, while I would fall or crash into nigh-invincible Metal Pirates the other half of the time. After 25 more minutes, Samus drowned in rising acid as she failed to complete her space jumps. Sheesh.

Because I didn't (or couldn't) save after beating that Torizo, all of my progress after acquiring the reserve tank was lost. Thankfully, I at least saved when I did, but I realized how hard Super Metroid is without a walkthrough. I'd like to blame the Retro Duo's controller, though; I mean, why can't I string together successive Space Jumps?!

Goof Troop: 3HN Father and Son at Play

Last week, my four-year-old son and I decided to play Goof Troop, a Super Nintendo game based on the animated series of the same name that was broadcast in the early to mid-90s. The basic premise of the game involves Goofy and his son evading pirates, finding keys, using various items, and solving puzzles to rescue their friend, Pete, who has been kidnapped by the aforementioned pirates. The game is played from above with a perspective reminiscent of The Legend of Zelda, except that this game is much simpler and involves teamwork if played with another player.

Much to my surprise, the more I play Goof Troop, the more I am impressed by the gameplay and fun factor, particularly the fun of playing such as goofy character as... well, Goofy. I had initially purchased this game from a co-worker solely on the premise that this was a cooperative game which my two sons could play together, but I have found that the game is better played when one more-skilled player (me, in this case) plays with a younger, less-skilled player (my youngest son) because the more-skilled player can bail out the less-skilled one. How? Well, one of the prominent tactics of Goof Troop involves movement from one screen to the next: if one player leaves a particular screen, both players appear in the next screen. This not only allows one player to save another from imminent danger, but it also allows for additional tactics, like one player luring foes to one corner of the screen while the other player leaves; or, one player runs across the screen to retrieve an important item and the other player leaves shortly after retrieval. Besides this, players can throw projectiles to each other if one of the players needs it, and both players can carry different items that may be useful on different screens.

It took my youngest son and I about 20 minutes to pass the first stage of the game, which was a wonderful accomplishment for him, especially because he is only four years old and he has just started learning how to play video games (specifically, retrogames). I really enjoyed playing alongside him to beat the stage. As a dad, I suppose that is what I enjoy most about retrogaming: watching my sons enjoy and do well with games that were relevant when I was younger.

Super Metroid: 3HN Adventure

Today, I turn my sights on to Super Metroid. Now, there's not much that can be said about this game that hasn't been said on thousands of websites and in thousands of review articles -- it's one of the finest games ever devised for home video game consoles. Having poured a couple of hours into it, I can honestly agree with those reviews, though I imagine I'd be incredibly frustrated if I didn't have access to walkthroughs. With a walkthrough or player's guide, Super Metroid is difficult enough with having to master wall-jumping, mid-air ball morphing, and so on; but, without a guide, this game would take ten times as long to go anywhere. That's what I think...

Anyway, Super Metroid is a fine example of third-hand nostalgia, which is to say that I neither experienced nor knew about the game when it was truly relevant, but am just now playing it and feeling those nostalgic feelings associated with something from the past (i.e. the 90s). Since I swapped the sadly faulty Gen-X for a Retro Duo, I had been reading as much as I could about Super Metroid. But now, I get to play it, albeit only when my family, work, and school schedules allow it.

In almost every way, Super Metroid has lived up to the hype, but I have to ask the question I posed a few months back: how violent is this game? In a nutshell, Super Metroid is a game about exploration and discovery that involves the inevitable shootings and boss battles. On the planet Zebes, almost every creature is either apathetic to your presence or downright hospitable (seeing how some of the baddies are space pirates, after all), so blasting alien creatures is sometimes necessary. However, this is not the primary intent of the game; for the most part, you explore Zebes' extensive underworld to find things, get to other places, and find more things until you find the Metroid hatchling and eventually Mother Brain.

But, is the game violent? Yes, it is. You're shooting aliens, you're blowing up blocks with bombs and missiles, and you fight massive bosses that are ugly and evil. Is it appropriate for kids? Well, I would ask this: is Lord of the Rings appropriate for kids? Are many books of the Old Testament appropriate for kids? Does anyone remember that David actually beheads the felled Goliath with a big sword? Or that Samson kicked one thousand Philistines' butts with the jawbone of an ass? My point is that Super Metroid does not focus on violence, and I do not believe that it promotes violence, but you do have to defend yourself in that game... and you do get nifty upgrades to your arm cannon.

In any case, this is not a game for kids, and the violence must be considered in context: you are Samus Aran on a strange planet with creatures either trying to hurt you or doing nothing to keep themselves from hurting you. Oh, and creatures generally disappear with a PFFT, leaving behind missiles and life orbs to restore lost energy. How do alien creatures die and leave missile refills behind?

Ciao.

First-hand vs. Second-hand Nostalgia

Howdy!

I was pondering the concept of nostalgia vis-a-vis retrogaming, and I realized that there are two kinds of nostalgia: first-hand nostalgia and second-hand nostalgia. "First-hand nostalgia" (1HN) refers to that positive feeling that emerges when remembering something one directly encountered; for example, my remembrances of Super Mario Bros. and any positive feelings associated with it would comprise first-hand nostalgia. Conversely, in my estimation, "second-hand nostalgia" (2HN) refers to remembering what one experienced about something that was indirectly related to a first-hand nostalgia item; for instance, I never played Kid Icarus, but reading about that NES game and thinking about my experiences with that gaming system would comprise second-hand nostalgia.

From this point on, I will consistently refer to FHN and SHN when talking about games. Why? Because as I explore old games that I never got to play when those games were released (i.e. 15 years ago), I am finding that any positive memories that surface are mostly second-hand, or 2HN. An applicable example of this would be thinking about a movie from the 80s that I had heard about during the 80s, but never got a chance to see; yet, when I think about that movie (at least, any spurious information I have about that movie), I am reminded of the rad aspects of that decade.

Actually, I should then address third-hand nostalgia (3HN): positive feelings experienced with something with which one neither had direct nor indirect contact. A good example of this is that joyous feeling I get when I think about games like Super Metroid, Goof Troop, Mega Man, and other SNES games because I didn't own that system, and I never knew those games existed in the 90s, but when I look at those games now I am reminded of the decade during which I was in college and then in Japan.

Okay, so we have 1HN, 2HN, and 3HN. Confused yet? Here's the breakdown:

• 1HN: Nostalgia related to something directly experienced in the time period during which that thing was relevant or contemporaneous.
• 2HN: Nostalgia related to something that was not directly experienced, but known about during the time period that thing was relevant or contemporaneous.
• 3HN: Nostalgia related to something that was neither directly experienced nor known about during its time of relevance, but has recently emerged because of current knowledge of that thing, which in turns stokes positive feelings about the time period or other items connected to that thing.

I hope that clears things up.

Ciao!

World of Illusion: 3HN Afternoon of Fun

Yesterday, my wife and I gave our oldest son a Sega Genesis game called World of Illusion Starring Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck. The game is a one- or two-player game that follows Mickey and/or Donald as they try to find their way out of the World of Illusion. Along the way, Mickey and Donald encounter all manner of bad guys and obstacles, some of which require teamwork to overcome -- obstacles such as see-saws and low-lying crawlspaces (which requires Mickey to pull Donald through them). Mickey and Donald dispose of baddies by waving magic capes, which transmogrify their foes into flowers or butterflies.

The magic of this game, however, is not in the World of Illusion itself, but in the small details that the developers programmed into the game. Watch as Mickey or Donald balance themselves on ledges; notice when one character lands on another, causing the bottom character to teeter and struggle as he holds up the top character. The animation in the game and the teamwork are the big selling points of this game.

As I watched my oldest and youngest sons play, I found that I enjoyed watching them play this slice of nostalgia more than playing the game myself. Watching as they "accidentally" stunned each other with their magic capes and their ensuing laughter proved to me, once again, that there was simple greatness in retrogaming.