Rush 'n Attack: 1HN Knife Knavery

Nostalgia is a funny thing. Even concerning unfavorable events and outcomes, many of us can still wax nostalgic about the results of those situations. However, in my mind, there are some games and hobbies about which I cannot reminisce enthusiastically or even lukewarmly. One of those games used to be Rush ‘n Attack by Konami, but after a decades-long journey I can discuss this one-time stinker.

Rush ‘n Attack was a Nintendo Entertainment System game that was released in 1985. It was a well-rendered platform side-scroller that was somewhat realistic by 8-bit standards compared to relatively cartoonish games like Super Mario Brothers; Rush ‘n Attack had detailed sprites, semi-realistic Cold War-inspired backgrounds, heart-pumping music, and relentless bad guys. Much like Konami's other offerings at the time, characters were strinkingly humanoid in appearance; in fact, character design was similar to characters in Castlevania and Double Dribble, which were two other games from Konami's stable. When I first received Rush ‘n Attack, I was excited because Konami meant quality. Because I liked Double Dribble, I believed I would like Rush ‘n Attack. Even when I first inserted the cartridge into my NES console, I was certain I would enjoy myself thoroughly.

However, I realized rather quickly how arduous a task it would be to play this game. The game opens with your character outside an enemy base somewhere in Russia or someplace. (Of course, it required little imagination to comprehend that "Rush 'n" meant "Russian".) It's a bleak, gray winter day and all you're armed with is a knife. then the bad guys rush at you. what are you supposed to do? Well, you're supposed to rush and attack (Get it?). And so I did. With one button for jump and another button for attack, I rushed at the enemy with deft presses of the D-pad. Suddenly, a barrage of bullets arrived. I leapt to dodge the incoming bullets, but one bullet grazed my boot. In game-speak, it was but one pixel of my boot. Yet, that was enough to kill my character rather unceremoniously. Rapidly, I re-spawned and attacked again. Once again, another bullet grazed me by one pixel and my character was downed. This process repeated once more until all three lives were lost. End of game. No save points. No starting where I left off. When your character died in Rush ‘n Attack, you started from the very beginning. There was not even a Konami code to give me more lives. I was done right there.

Frustrated, I tried again. I got a little farther, but I died again. So, I tried again. Each time, I would advance a little farther and die again. Sadly, each time, I had to start at the very beginning. Eventually, I would get to Level 2 and then Level 3. However, after losing three lives, I had no choice but to return to the very first level. Frustration would turn to angst, and angst would compel me to eject the cartridge in extreme disgust and disdain.

To be fair, controls were responsive and gameplay was brisk, but the mountains of cheese in this game were undeniable. Of course, there was the aforementioned death by a pixel. More annoying than that was having to start at the absolute initial position of the game after losing all your lives. Yet, what was most disheartening about this game was that sinking feeling of powerlessness. Except for your knife, weapons have ammunition limits with no hope of replenishment except for picking up a new weapon. Moreover, there were no super weapons in this game; there was no spread gun like in Contra, no Batman batarangs, and no Marioesque invincibility. Tragically, in the end, it was just you and your knife.

It took little time for me to trade the game away. I could tolerate it no further and had to remove it from my sight as soon as humanly possible. At the time, Rush ‘n Attack seemed like a rare dud from Konami and a stark reminder of how flawed this world truly is. Nonetheless, like God's grace, there was a silver lining to this story: I managed to trade the game away for Solomon's Key, which also proved to be frustrating, but in a challenging, positive way.

For decades, I lived with the psychological trauma of Rush ‘n Attack. However, a few years ago, I found a video on YouTube. Sometimes, people post videos of their speed runs through games, attempting to finish them in record time. For example, one person posted a video of finishing Super Metroid in 90 minutes. Similar to that, someone posted a speed run of Rush ‘n Attack. As I watched, I witnessed something that stoked uncontrollable and hearty laughter. Throughout the entire speed run, the player simply tap the knife button repeatedly and rushed forward to the very far right edge of the screen. Foes scattered like so many leaves. The player persisted in this way with nary an incoming bullet, literally rushing through level after level with just a knife. I was awestruck with how easy the player made it all appear. I wondered why I had not read about this in Nintendo Power magazine so many years ago. (Kids, there was no Internet back in those days!)

Oddly, witnessing that herculean feat redeemed the game in my mind. I took comfort in knowing that there was greater cheese to overcome this game's cheese. I had found solace and rest as if some profound injustice had been addressed. Even stranger was the urge to play that game again after having beheld that indescribable spectacle. Indeed, that game is long gone and it's just as well that it is. Nevertheless, I can now wax nostalgic about Rush ‘n Attack, and it's a miracle that I can wax nostalgic about it, even though it took me decades to do so.

Castlevania: 1HN Self-Sufficient Devil Hunter

Right after I got my NES, one of the first games I received as a gift was Castlevania. I don't remember why I got that game: did I ask for it? Did Mom think it would be a game that I'd like? Did another family member give it to me? I'm not sure, but I do remember that it was one of the first games I had.

What more can be said about Castlevania? For those who are not familiar, Castlevania is a side-scrolling platformer that was one of Konami's flagship titles. In the game, you play Simon Belmont, a whip-wielding nobleman who enter's Dracula's castle with no other mission but to destroy Dracula and break his curse. Along the way, you encounter every cliched horror monster conceived: bats, mummies, zombies, creatures from the Blue Lagoon, dead knights, Frankenstein, and Igor... Or, at least, a bunch of leaping hunchbacks. All the while, you whip candles and walls to get upgrades to your whip (which ultimately becomes a rather elastic ball-and-chain morning-star-like weapon), special weapons like holy water, cross-shaped boomerangs, axes, and daggers, as well as hearts for ammunition, pork chops for health, and treasures for extra points.

As with many NES games, each level of Castlevania is capped with an end boss, whom you must fight to proceed to the next level. After traversing the first level of the castle, you encounter a giant bat who swoops down at you repeatedly. It is defeated somewhat easily, but then an entire castle awaits with more levels and bosses. At the end of the game, you are challenged by Dracula, but he's not the last boss; after you behead Dracula, an immense leaping rock monster attacks you, knocking you around as your life meter decreases to a dangerously low point...

...and, then, you die. At least, that's what always happened to me because I was never able to beat Castlevania -- not as a teenager and not in recent history.

Castlevania is a game about which I used to be quite conflicted. On the one hand, all of the horror film and literature conventions are in the game: ghouls, monsters, Dracula, torches, skeletons (both animated and as piles of bones), holy water, crosses that clear away the undead, and the like. My Christian radar often blipped at every demonic image on the screen I  encountered when I played recently. I thought about what kind of influence this game would have on my boys: would they develop an interest in horror films? Would they pursue knowledge of the occult? Would they pretend to be Simon Belmont or Dracula?! All of the stereotypically Christian concerns crossed my mind as I considered the implications of a horror-themed video game. On the other hand, you are Simon Belmont, who was sent to vanquish evil, armed with holy water and crosses. These are Catholic elements to be sure, but one cannot deny even a slight Christian influence on the protagonists of some horror movies and themes. After all, who is a more frightening adversary than Satan and his minions? In that sense, Castlevania is spiritual warfare played out on-screen: it's good versus evil presented in a blatant and obvious way. In addition, Castlevania is an excellent platformer with fine graphics, a memorable soundtrack, and gameplay that challenges you and gives you some freedom of movement. Except for some cheesy villains, Castlevania plays rather smoothly for an NES game and has replayability, even after you defeat Dracula and his winged beast.

Despite how well-crafted the game is, I sold Castlevania and Castlevania II as a bundle on eBay, along with their original retail boxes and instructions for the first Castlevania. Once again, a personal conviction led me to rid myself of something I didn't think would be a positive influence on my boys. As a teenager, I didn't live a life pursuing Christ, so I did what I wanted to do. At the time, Castlevania seemed harmless to me, but I looked at the game with renewed eyes and determined that it was games like Castlevania that did affect me as a younger person. If anything, like magic, I may have looked at horror themes and demons as entertaining and fun. Even though demons and supernatural monsters were villains, there was always an implied coolness to them; today, with the proliferation of zombie and vampire TV shows, that seems to be Hollywood's opinion. However, I see things differently: in most, if not all horror-influenced TV shows and movies, God rarely plays the role of vanquisher; instead, it is often through human ingenuity and perseverance that supernatural evil is defeated. In this way, what I find as a negative influence in horror-themed entertainment is not the imagery or storylines as much as the insidious idea that we don't need God to vanquish evil; we'll just do it fine on our own, thank you very much. "We don't need Jesus; we just need each other." It's a perspective that infects the mind, convincing us that we are better than we think we are.

Thus, is playing or owning Castlevania a sin? I don't think so, but it's one of those things that plants a seed of doubt in one's mind. For an adult, it may not be so dangerous, but to plant such a seed in the mind of a child could be spiritually damaging. Not everyone else is the same when it comes to the effects of horror themes in entertainment, but when it comes to my boys, since I'm accountable to God for them I shouldn't risk exposing them to the idea that we can conquer Satan and his demons just fine on our own.

NES Pro Wrestling: 1HN Slam Action

NES Pro Wrestling was one of the first games I remember witnessing being played on the NES during my junior high school days. I recall the day well: I rode my bike to my acquaintance (I'll explain later) Joshua's house. At the time, I looked forward to playing some games with him on his Nintendo Entertainment System because, well, I didn't have one. Anyway, when I arrived, I got to watch him play a game in which wrestlers were slammed, thrown, clotheslined, pile-driven, and back-broken (can I say that?!). I remember being eager to play...

And I waited... For one hour... Two hours...

After over two hours of waiting, I realized dimly that Joshua would never let me play. I'm not sure he was even aware of my presence in his living room while he played. That is not to say that I was angry or even despondent because I enjoyed watching him, but over time I have come to conclude that Joshua was rather selfish and inhospitable (which, in turn, compels me to encourage my boys to share video game time with each other and with friends who visit). Funnily enough, though, those observations were absent in my mind.

Sadly, I ended up getting home late that day and my parents were rightfully upset and worried. In a feeble attempt to perhaps stave off their ire, I had set my wristwatch back one hour; that way, I could offer the excuse that the time on my watch was wrong. Of course, that got them even more upset because I had proven that I wasn't careful enough to keep time accurately on my watch (not to mention, I lied!). Ah, the memories...

NES Pro Wrestling was one of the early Nintendo-brand releases for the NES console. It has the look and feel of the initial NES releases with the black-covered manuals and 8-bit-rendered cartridge labels with the black spines. When I received NES Pro Wrestling for Christmas one year (I forget which one), I recall how oddly pleased I was that the look of the cartridge matched some of my other NES titles, like Baseball and Ice Climber. For some reason, I was really interested in uniformity… Anyway, NES Pro Wrestling features six characters: Fighter Hayabusa, Starman, Kin Korn Karn, Giant Panther, The Amazon, and King Slender. 

Each character can punch, kick, body slam, and throw an opponent against the ropes to either knee him in the face or clothesline him. Yet, what’s really fun is that each character has his own special moves. For example, Giant Panther can either head-butt the opponent or administer the “Iron Claw,” which is when he grabs the face of his opponent with his palm and squeezes. Each time a wrestler performs his special move, his foe collapses into a heap, after which the wrestler can either pin his foe or pull him up… by the hair.

NES Pro Wrestling is still alive and well in my collection and my boys get a kick out of wrestling with each other. For an 8-bit NES game, NES Pro Wrestling does have some depth with all the special moves and strategies one can employ. One of my favorite strategies is to use Starman’s Flying Cross Chop from a standing position. Originally, the move was intended to be performed after an opponent is thrown against the ropes, but I learned that one can fly through the air and chop the opposing wrestler from a standing position WITHOUT throwing him. As one plays, one picks up on these little tactics and misuses of special moves, as well as on the fact that there is a twenty-second limit when a wrestler is outside the ring. I won’t give away the strategy for using that time limit. As an aside, the only stipulation I have made with my boys is that they cannot play with The Amazon because special moves involve either using a dinner fork or his mouth to munch on the opposing player. 

This leads me to a discussion I had started on this blog long ago, when I wrote about violence in video games, initiating a one-sided discussion about the acceptable extent and intent of such violence. At that time, I reasoned that one should consider both how realistic the violence is portrayed and the intent of the violence in the game itself. Over time, though, I have given the issue much thought, especially vis-à-vis the Bible. Now, dare I say that the Bible does portray some violence, whether it be Samson slaying a thousand Philistines with the jawbone of a donkey, Joshua and his armies after the walls of Jericho fell, or David beheaded the felled Goliath after the slung stone found its mark. Considering these and many other examples, violence in war or in defense of one's home may be unavoidable. However, in the context of this blog, the crucial issue is how far does one go with violence for the sake of fun...

In my opinion, one has to look at each case and conclude based on personal convictions in relation to God’s word. In the case of NES Pro Wrestling, just like professional wrestling in real life, the “violence” is so cartoonish and rendered in that vague 8-bit style that the game is more of a stress reliever and less of a desensitizing force. I have observed my boys play the game, I have talked to them about how dangerous professional wrestling really is, and I have discussed how pro wrestlers are trained professionals who practice how to NOT hurt their opponents and yet execute athletically acrobatic moves. So far, my boys have not executed such moves on each other; more importantly, they understand that violence outside of a video game is inevitable in certain situations, such as during war or in defense of one’s home. There will be more on this later.

Appreciating the Great to Discern the Derivative

As time passes, it is confirmed for me, again and again, that the simplicity and pick-up-and-playability of "old" video games is vastly superior to the glitz and graphics of today's three-dimensional offerings. Sure, one may marvel at the visual explosion of garish hues of any PlayStation game, or guffaw at the side-splitting and muscle-tearing action of XBox Kinect or Wii games, or even be wowed by the audio saturation emanating from one's quadrophonic sound system as one plays games... well, on any of those consoles. However, I find that it is difficult to trump the quaint jaggedness of 8-bit or 16-bit sprites, the plip-ploppiness of 25-year-old game sound effects, or even the mind-bending elegance of one D-pad and two, three, or six buttons.

The reason why I am waxing nostalgic and gushing with needlessly verbose prose is because I experienced a moment of peculiar lucidity today. During a work training session, rather randomly, I asked one of the attendees (who happened to be my age) if he remembered the infinite-life trick in Super Mario Brothers for the NES. For a few seconds, the attendee (who was attending via WebEx, actually) admitted some ignorance, but then corrected himself and recalled with impressive clarity that if you jump on a certain creature (in this case, a Koopa) a certain way (on the edge of its shell as it descends stairs made of blocks), you can set up an infinite loop of life gain. Floored by his apparent recall of that tactic, I filled in the blanks of his description by noting that it happens in World 3 and results in cryptic symbols replacing numbers next to the Mario life indicator that is displayed before the start of each level.

As this moment of lucidity passed, I was reminded that though games like Super Mario Brothers were easy to learn and somewhat challenging to conquer, there were arduous aspects of the gameplay that made even seasoned gamers pause, such as trying to advance anywhere in Legend of Zelda; also, there were wondrous moments of revelation that etched indelible impressions in our psyches, such as the infinite life trick. What was revealed to me was that while the simplicity of those old games lured us into becoming fans, it was the hidden and the discoverable that kept us returning to play over and over. There was something eminently rewarding about unearthing such tricks or conquering levels of ridiculous difficulty. I contend that games today, even with their Easter eggs, hidden levels, and downloadable content do not have the payoff of  the infinite life trick, of setting the correct tree on fire, or climbing the once-inaccessible tower to find a 1-UP (a la Knuckles the Echidna). I suppose it's because these games live in the rosy-tinted world of my memories. However, when I watch my sons play the old games or I hear a co-worker describe his son's admiration of Super Mario Brothers, I realize that if we all bring up our children to appreciate the things of the past, we bless them with the gift of discerning what is great from what is derivative.

Simplicity: 1HN Better than Realism

Today, a wistful feeling has overcome me. As I see events unfold around me, I am disturbed and deeply saddened by how my beliefs are challenged and I am viewed as anachronistic and a relic for what I believe...

I'm talking about video games, of course...

Granted, some things haven't changed much since I received my first video game console (a Colecovision) thirty years ago. One thing that hasn't changed is the general popularity of video games. Back in the early 80s, Atari, Intellivison, and Colecovision were extremely popular as game commercials dominated the airwaves, store shelves were well-stocked with games, and most of the kids I knew had at least one of those systems. When the Nintendo Entertainment System came out in 1985, it was an even bigger deal; I have indelible memories of ROB the Robot and Excitebike from times I spent at my friend Brian's house. Fast-forward to now, video games are still popular among the young and now the old, as well. Another thing that hasn't changed is how video games can bring disparate social groups together. Whether it be Starcraft across the Internet or a bunch of neighborhood kids huddled around a Wii, video games unify people. A third thing that hasn't changed much is the characters. Thanks to the staying power of such icons as Mario, Sonic, Snake, Samus Aran, the Belmont family, and Earthworm Jim (he's still popular... right?!), the nostalgia of the past lives in the gloss and sheen of the superior graphics and sound of the present.

However, much has also changed with the passage of time. Some may argue that games nowadays are not as "hard," and that you don't need the practice and precision of past games to master today's games; but some may counter and say that games as less "cheesy" than, say, Ninja Gaiden II or Rush 'n Attack (of which I have a fond disdain). Some may opine about the realism of first-person-shooters and how games just seem more violent today, while some may respond that games are no less violent today than 8-bit shooters like Contra or Metal Gear; "It's not that games are more violent, but that they're just more graphic," some may observe. There is also the complexity of games today, in which you can play for hours on end and barely stratch the surface of a convoluted storyline; conversely, you could finish The Legend of Zelda in eight hours or so (which would be insane, but still...).

One cannot argue with the cliche that "the more things change, the more things stay the same." Yet, as I watch the visual and auditory quality of games escalate with improving technologies, and the sheer number of buttons and analog sticks increase with each new in-game function, I am reminded that today's games lack something that past games had in spades: simplicity. Remember the Atari 2600 with its one joystick and one button? I challenge you to find an easier game to learn, but harder game to master on the Wii than Pitfall was on the Atari with just its one button. Remember the NES with its two buttons, or the Sega Genesis with its three buttons? Remember how easy it was for an inexperienced friend to come over and play games with (or against) you on those consoles because the controls were easier to master? I challenge you to train your inexperienced friend about how to play any current EA Sports game on the XBox and its ten buttons...

Besides simplicity, which factors into what I am about to state, games of the past seem lighter by today's standards. Whereas now one can get lost in a game world and not emerge for days, I could play a Genesis game for a couple hours and then walk away and enjoy the rest of my day. In this way, games today are immersive to a fault. Of course, some may argue that The Legend of Zelda or other older RPGs were the same way, but I could walk away after a few hours. Try doing that with Mass Effect or any of those story-based games... It's difficult.

But, the most apparent difference between the games of the past and today's games is the creativity it took to render great games with such comparatively poor resolution. Compare Super Mario Bros. on the NES to Super Mario Bros. on the Wii; obviously, the Wii trumps the NES big time, but think about the limitations those Nintendo programmers had to overcome to render a classic game on the NES. For the Wii, on the other hand, the developers had much more to work with when it came to graphics and sound.

Upon reflection, my wistful feelings about video games come from remembrances of more carefree times with friends in high school or college when we sat around and laughed at buddies messing up in a game, or discussed strategy or if the Genesis or the SNES versions of games were better. I suppose that kids today may look back on 2012 when they're adults and feel the same. The interesting thing I've observed, though, is that there is a fervent attempt to make games simpler with motion capture, as with the XBox Kinect and the Wii's long-in-the-tooth wand-based controls. Perhaps, we are seeing a renaissance of simplicity in gaming, pulling in a new generation of youngsters, but I contend that the retro-charm of jaggedly rendered 8-bit characters will always transcend the smooth textures of today's sprites because, as with many things in this world, we will always look backwards and remember we could walk away from a couple hours (or less) of play and be satisfied, while one often fills the day with gaming today to get their fix. In this way, realism isn't always good, and I am saddened to see that people today put that much stock in the realism afforded to us by stellar graphics and movie-quality sound when video games are best played as a brief escape from reality.

NES Satellite: 1HN Wireless Non-Necessity

Pop quiz: Was it possible for four players to play one game at the same time on the NES?

The answer: It depends on if you owned the NES Satellite (and if you owned a compatible game).

The Satellite was a wireless peripheral that was released for the NES in 1989. It allowed for both wireless play and for up to four players to play an NES game. All you needed was a boatload of C batteries, up to four NES controllers, and a game that accommodated four players and you were set. Or, if you wanted to play a non-four-player game alone wirelessly, you could do that, too.

Most of this information can be gained from Wikipedia or with a cursory Internet search, so I will share my personal experience with the Satellite. Now, the funny thing about my owning the Satellite was that I was an only child. Of course, I'm STILL an only child, but I often dreamed of having three buddies over to play NES. Outside of one or two occasions, this didn't happen. Also, because my NES and TV were, like, six feet from my bedroom wall and door, playing wirelessly was never really that beneficial.

So, why did I ask for the Satellite for Christmas one year? Because it was cool and, yes, I did dream of a day when I would have a bunch of friends over to play NES Play Action Football or Kings of the Beach. I remember one time when I did have some neighborhood kids over and we played Kings of the Beach, which is a two-on-two beach volleyball simulation. I don't remember how the game went (except that everybody besides me played terribly, mostly because I was the only one with any experience with the game), but I recall the elation of plugging in extra controllers into the third- and fourth-player ports of the Satellite. I think there was also another time when Ed and Tim were over and we played NES Play Action Football... Maybe.

Anyway, the Satellite was pointless for me to own, but was reflective of that childhood desire to play games with other people. This feeling wasn't confined to video games as I was a semi-avid collector of board games. Sadly, as with video games, I rarely had opponents against whom I could play. Ironically, when I did have a friend over, I rarely played the board games because I hated losing. How sad!

In retrospect, if I had made it more of a point to challenge people, I would have played more board games, as well as used the Satellite more often. Nowadays, I have my sons (and my wife, if she's in a gaming mood) against whom I can play games. I don't mind losing to them; and, I've gotten over the hang-up of losing to anyone because I have embraced the mere joy of understanding the dynamics of any game and engaging in the finer points of gameplay. By this, I am much more willing to play games. If I ever get my NES Control Deck working, maybe I'll bring out the Satellite. Unlike my only child days, I have three opponents in my own home.

Double Dribble: 1HN Wacky Cheese Shots

(First of all, shout out to Rich for suggesting this game. I hadn't considered writing about it, but I do have some fond memories to share about it, so here goes...)

Double Dribble was a basketball game that was produced by Konami and released in 1987 in the United States. One year later, I got Double Dribble as a gift (I think). At the time, Double Dribble was the most realistic basketball simulation you could get for the NES with 5-on-5 action that at least resembled pro basketball. There were four teams named after cities (Boston, Chicago, Los Angeles, and New York), with each city differentiated by colors and mascots. When selecting your team, an on-screen character shot a ball through a hoop corresponding with that team and play began.

Double Dribble plays like any basketball game: you pass, you shoot, you rebound, and you steal the ball... again and again and again. Like many NES games, much of what happens in the game is laden with cheese as steals become rampant, opponents block each other's dunks, and fast breaks happen with alarming regularity because there are no energy meters for players. Oh, and there are those crazy shots that you can make almost 90% of the time...

I remember it well. I flew to Indiana in 1990 to visit my relatives. At the time, I was in high school and had mostly set aside video games in favor of role-playing games, but that's a previous post... Anyway, I went to my cousin's house and she had an NES console and Double Dribble. Apparently, her boyfriend, Eric, was an NES player; he declared to me that he was "pretty good" at Double Dribble. Thinking that I was "pretty good" too, I accepted his challenge to play against each other. After one 5-minute quarter, it was, like, 40 to 2 and Eric was wiping the floor with me.

How? Well, he taught me a shot that almost always worked: basically, you run your player, who is in possession of the ball, into the upper corner of the court, press down the shoot button, and then release while you are well out of bounds (but before you land). As I witnessed his Double Dribble prowess with this magic shot, I was neither embarrassed nor angry, but in sheer awe of Eric. I still hold him in high regard because of that shot. I would go on to incorporate Eric's shot into my game and began recording my scores for games with 5-minute quarters: 197-4 (with a few 2-pointers mixed in), 196-2. I even think I had a couple of shutouts... all because I could steal the ball and immediately make that wacky cheese shot.

Double Dribble is still a part of my family's NES collection, though it doesn't see much play these days. I did try to play it recently and replicate that cheese shot, but I was unable to do so. Wikipedia corroborates my recollection of that shot by explaining how to do it (as well as about other "hot spots" in the game). So, if you're looking to fascinate your friends and thoroughly trounce them with an NES game, practice the money shots and then challenge them to Double Dribble and watch them behold you with a gaze of reverent admiration.

Doorways to Adventure: 1HN Treasure Hunting, VHS-style

Back in the 1980s, you got to watch the latest movies either on cable TV or by renting the VHS cassette at a local video rental store. I am not including laserdisc or Betamax because hardly anyone owned either medium and Betamax died in the early 80s. Anyway, if you didn't have cable TV, you watched movies on VHS. In the mid-80s, Pressman, among other companies, came up with an intriguing idea: instead of using a video-cassette recorder (VCR) to just watch movies, why not create games that use VHS cassettes, along with game cards and other realia? At the time, this was a novel idea; yeah, we had Atari, Intellivision, and Colecovision (until the NES emerged in 1985), so using a TV for interactive entertainment wasn't entirely new, but using a VCR for a game was unexplored territory.

In 1986, for Christmas, I asked for two games that incorporated VHS: Doorways to Adventure and Doorways to Horror, both created by Pressman. My parents gave me Doorways to Adventure, and I am glad they did. Doorways to Adventure is actually a rather straightforward game: the object of the game is to obtain the highest combined value of treasures by the time the VHS tape ends. Let me describe the format for you. First, you watch the first segment on the tape, which was some amusing or overly dramatic scene from some classic B-level adventure or action movie (such as Abbott and Costello clips). As you watch the movie clip, you are told that there is a particular kind of treasure on which you were to bid, be it precious metals, an art object, a deed to property, or jewelry. Next, you are told that you have to pay a ransom in the form of food, clothing, a shield, or other object (in the context of gameplay, these ransom objects are special blue-backed cards you retain in your hand). If you do not possess the appropriate ransom card, you must pay a bribe from a pool of money you are given at the start of the game. After you have either paid the ransom or bribe for the object, all players put out bid cards (special yellow-backed cards) face-down and then flip the cards simultaneously. Whoever has the highest bid wins the object. After the winning player receives a treasure card corresponding with the object, someone rolls a special color-coded die; the VHS cassette is then fast-forwarded to the next clip with a "doorway" title screen with the same color as what was was rolled. These steps are repeated until the end of the tape is reached. I could go in-depth about the prevalent strategies in the game, such as which kinds of treasure are more advantageous to obtain or the role of the "Key" and how to steal it, but the basic gist of the game is that you try to end up with highest total value of treasure, all the while bidding against other players and watching some hilariously cheesy movie clips of movies dating from the 1930s to the 1970s.

For a 12-year-old, Doorways to Adventures was undeniably fun, but I faced one problem: I was an only child, which meant I didn't have brothers or sisters that I could ask/compel to play with me. Also, my parents weren't the gaming types; they much preferred watching TV or hanging out with their friends when they chose to do so. With this in mind, I didn't have a ready pool of opponents against which I could play. I did have my friend Brian, who was game to play a few times; but, beyond him, the landscape of prospective competitors was barren and lifeless. Thus, the game was largely unplayed and remained in my closet for several years until it was packed up with my other board games and put into storage at my grandma's house.

A few years ago, I rediscovered the game in my grandma's rafters and showed it to my sons and wife. My sons were intrigued, so I relearned the game and played it with them. At first, my sons were confused by the rules, but they caught on quickly and were outbidding each other (and me) by the time we passed through the first few doorways. They began to grasp the concept that, for example, getting a bunch of Precious Metals was more profitable than focusing on Art Objects in the long run. They also enjoyed stealing the Key from each other and stealing treasure from each other whenever one spotted water or fire in a movie clip (note: there are "Steal Treasure with Water" and "Steal Treasure with Fire" cards that allow you to take an opponent's treasure if water or fire are present in the movie clip). We eventually roped my wife into playing a game with us, which can last two hours. Despite the length, when we all have the time to play, we are consistently amused and bemused in equal measure as treasures are gained and lost with alarming regularity.

Doorways to Adventure is an integral part of my family's game rotation, though the game length can be incredibly protracted if bidding and stealing become fierce. This is so much so that whenever one of us suggests that game for Family Night, the other three of us will cringe, look at the clock, and say, "That game takes TOO long." Nonetheless, Doorways to Adventure is one of those games, along with some of my NES games, that is seeing new life now because, unlike the time of my youth, I have a pool of people with whom I can play. Whenever I have the time and mental space to play Doorways to Adventure, I feel like the 12-year-old inside of me gets to do what he never got to do in 1986: play his games with other people. Considering that, I implore you, the reader, to hold onto, or find, your old games because someday you may have a new generation of opponents with whom to play right under your own roof.

The Legend of Zelda: 1HN Epic Questing

What else can be said about The Legend of Zelda on the NES that hasn't been said? It was a genre-defining RPG? It was a wonderfully rich game from a time when such games were rare on consoles? It has two of the most well-known videogame characters out there today -- Link and Zelda? It was easy to learn and fun to play, and yet difficult to solve and challenging to beat? All of these things have already been said, so what would the point be in writing a blog review about this game? Well, there's one reason why I'd write such a blog entry: because, like most blogs, this blog is self-indulgent, right? (wink)

Humor aside, The Legend of Zelda was one of the most important games in my collection and represents the hours of fun I spent playing it. If I remember correctly, my first introduction to The Legend of Zelda was through my friend Brian, who lent it to me in 1987. I don't remember much about how I felt playing the game, though I do remember how colorful and thick the manual was and how informative the enclosed map was. I also remember when, quite accidentally, I pressed down on the game inside my NES console to release the game without turning the power off, which wiped all the data out of memory, including Brian's saved games! When I return the games to him, he was visibly distraught. However, when I got back the Lone Wolf books I had lent him (I'll write a blog entry on these books in the future) and noticed how white-lined and bent-up the spines were, I felt that by accepting my damaged books I had paid my penance for my sad mishap. In any case, I learned a crucial lesson: turn the power off BEFORE you eject a game cartridge.

I ended up getting The Legend of Zelda for Christmas in 1988. I still have the cartridge in all its gold-plated glory, though I cannot find the manual or the map. Recently, I started up a new campaign in the game and made it through the first dungeon. As I played the game, I noted how fun it was to go from screen to screen and blasting baddies with my sword (note: you can "blast" your foes with distant sword shots if Link is at full strength), but I also noted how Link seems to move as if stuck to a grid, which can render fighting more challenging than it should be, and makes dying an all-too common occurrence. I remember beating this game in four games, but I've already died six times in my current campaign! So, it's an understatement to say that The Legend of Zelda is hard.

Even in this day and age of graphically-amazing games, I would heavily recommend The Legend of Zelda as it is on the NES. The graphics are quaint and suitable for younger kids, and even the skeletons and ghosts look "cute." Of course, if you have a conviction against such creatures in a game, then I would consider the appearance of such foes as a chance to discuss if such creatures exist. The one thing I get from this game, though, is that Link is a hero who is on a quest to rescue the princess. There aren't many missions purer than that.

Top Gun: 1HN Old-Timey Flight Simulation

I must make a bold statement: any American born in the 70s (like me) would find it challenging to NOT have some kind of positive feeling associated with the movie Top Gun, an 80s fighter flick directed by (at the time) young director Tony Scott and starring Tom Cruise as Pete "Maverick" Mitchell. Top Gun was a rather straightforward film about a hotshot F-14 pilot and his RIO buddy as they challenged similarly talented pilots and RIOs at a Naval flight school in Miramar, CA. Along the way, Maverick (Tom Cruise) and Goose (played by Anthony Edwards) would engage in dogfights, dangerous flying, and other macho escapades. Of course, tragedy strikes in the middle of the movie, from which Maverick must recover to overcome his own doubts and defeat some MiGs to boot. The movie then ends on an encouraging high note. I know I'm glossing over much of the movie, but that's the basic gist of it.

To cash in on the success of Top Gun, Konami developed the Top Gun videogame for the NES and released it in 1987. In the game, you are the pilot of an F-14 Tomcat, and you must complete four missions, each of which concludes with having to land on an aircraft carrier. All four missions are comprised of much dogfighting from the first-person perspective of sitting in the cockpit. At the beginning of each mission, you have your choice of one of three types of missiles: you can choose 40 of the weakest missiles, 20 of the medium-strength missiles, or 10 of the most powerful missiles. Depending on the mission, some missiles are better than others; for example, for the first two missions, choose the 40-missile option because you will engage in much dogfighting. However, for the fourth mission (if I recall correctly), go with the more powerful missiles. You get a briefing before each mission, so pay attention to the text.

Top Gun has much nostalgia value for me, both because of the movie with which it is associated and because the gameplay is so simple and easy to grasp that anyone can play the moment they press Start. Now, even my sons have taken to the game, if only because it's uncomplicated. That said, Top Gun was a flawed game: dogfighting is terribly stiff and simplistic, you can shoot at missiles and destroy them (really, this isn't entirely bad), you can avoid the action all together (just by going up or down for the entire mission), and landing the F-14 can be extremely difficult for a first-time player. It takes some practice and steady fingers to land your plane; if you cannot land it, you waste a 1-UP but you move on to the next mission. As expected for an early NES game, the graphics are unspectacular and the point-of-view doesn't change much and is largely useless; just look at the unnecessary gauges in the lower-right corner of the cockpit, which have NO bearing on gameplay. Also, does one really need a horizon indicator when you can't roll the plane?

In any case, Top Gun is a fun little game to play for 20 to 30 minutes, but it becomes dull rather quickly. As a teenager, I had acquired this game from my friend Brian in a trade, though I don't remember what I traded. At the time, I enjoyed this game and could play it for a much longer duration than I can now, mostly because my time is too precious these days to spend with this game. Honestly, I'd rather play a Sonic or Mario game. This is not to say that the game is a "dud," especially for younger players; there are just better games to play. One thing, though: there is a music loop that plays before the start of every mission when you choose your missiles. I can't explain why, but I can listen to this loop for hours; there is something soothing and enthralling about it. Listen to it for yourself and let me know what you think:

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.

Ring King: 1HN Smashfest

In the late 80s, my friend Ed and I both had 8-bit NES consoles and we used to trade games from time to time. If you've read some of my past reviews, you're probably familiar with Ed. Anyway, one game I acquired in a trade with Ed was Ring King, which was an unusual boxing simulation at the time. Ring King was published by Data East for the NES, and unlike Nintendo's in-house Mike Tyson's Punch Out, Ring King had two features that stood out: after every victory, you received points that you could allocate between Speed, Punch, and Stamina; and, it had a password system that lets you continue where you stopped during a previous gaming session. Of course, because of the infamy of Mike Tyson and the rosiness of nostalgia, Punch Out is much more widely hailed as a classic, while Ring King has slipped into obscurity.

Despite being overshadowed, Ring King is a nice little gem in the rough for the NES. The beauty of sports games on the NES was that all you needed to learn was the D-pad and the two buttons -- that's it. Ring King was no exception: one button punches, the other button dodges, and the D-pad moves your boxer. Double-tapping the D-pad toward your opponent causes your boxer to rush forward, and pressing toward your opponent for a couple seconds causes the boxes to clench so that they can gain a bit of energy back.

In Ring King, there were two basic in-fight strategies: either back away and rush in with a few punches before backing away again, or stand toe-to-toe and mash buttons until someone falls. The key point was how you allocated your points before a fight. If you put most of your points on Speed, you could land flurries of punches, but with little effect; if you put most of your points on Punch, your blows would do serious damage, but would land rather occasionally; and, if you concentrated points on Stamina, you could take a lot of punishment, but not dole out much. Ring King compelled the player to spread his or her points wisely and a balanced approach was often well-rewarded.

There was nothing much to Ring King but that, yet it is light entertainment that won't fail to amuse and frustrate. Pay particular attention to the animation when a punch lands; it's almost as if the opponent's (or your boxer's) face is smushed before elastically springing back into shape. Okay, okay, boxing is a violent sport, but that animation is quite funny, actually. Can I think that?

Batman: 1HN Crimefighter

Back in 1989, I was 15 years old and big into Batman; not the DC Comics series as much as the Batman movie directed by Tim Burton and starring Michael Keaton as Bruce Wayne/Batman and Jack Nicholson as Jack Napier/Joker. I remember going to see Batman on my birthday, wearing my blue T-shirt with the Batman logo prominently emblazoned across the chest; at the time, the movie was an awesome spectacle of darkness and Tim Burtonesque quirkiness. Despite being a well-known and accomplished comedic actor with dramatic chops, Michael Keaton was surprisingly effective as Batman, and Jack Nicholson was, as always, excellent as the demented Joker. In my lifetime, I would end up watching that movie well over 10 times. Even today, Batman is still eminently watchable, despite the existence of two superlative films directed by Christopher Nolan: Batman Begins (2005) and The Dark Knight (2008).

In 1990, Sunsoft released Batman: The Video Game for the NES. I got this game for Christmas; and, I don't remember asking for the game, but I'm glad that my mom and dad got it for me because, even today, this side-scrolling platformer is still a classic on the NES. As you may have guessed, you play as Batman and start out in the middle of the action with the Joker's flame-throwing and dashing minions gunning for you. Ground-level robots with retracting spikes, mobile mines, and hulking robots comprise some of the drones, which you can dispatch with Bat-a-rangs, Bat-gun rockets, some spread weapon that launches three shurikens, or your fists. Batman also has a very effective wall jump technique, which is much easier to master than Samus Aran's wall jump in Super Metroid. The game features wonderfully catchy 8-bit music, moody scenery, and smooth animation for an NES game.

Of course, as with any Batman game, movie, or comic book, there is violence: Batman punches, Bat-a-rangs (if that can be rendered a verb), and assaults baddies left and right with almost-reckless abandon. Such is the nature of the Batman mythos -- a one-man (or two, counting Robin/Nightwing) crime-stopping show. But, I put the violence in context: Batman is a crimefighter who fights for the poor and defenseless and stands against the tyranny of megalomaniacal supervillains and amoral thugs. On a level of principle, Batman stands in the gap by saving flawed humanity from itself; I am not likening him to Christ, but his sacrifice undergirds the "violence."

That said, children do not make such distinctions; after all, punching

someone is punching someone, and kids may take what they see in this game and translate it to real-world actions. Because of this, I caution people about exposure to this game, though discussions can be had regarding why Batman fights. In my opinion, children may understand the heroic nature of Batman's actions; and, fortunately, the NES' presentation of Batman is somewhat filtered through 8-bit graphics and sound, thus separating the violence from the blood and bruises of more realistic fare, such as in games and movies today.

Batman: The Video Game is often touted as one of the top 10 or top 20 games on the NES, and for good reason: the graphics and music are top-notch, gameplay is smooth and responsive, and the action is non-stop. Anyway, I have a soft spot for comic book heroes. I used to collect all the X-Men titles, as well as Spider-Man, Hulk, and other Marvel comic book series. Superheroes remind us of that innate yearning in all people for a savior to stand up against evil. At least, that's how I see superheroes, and you may feel the same way, though the in-game violence may be an issue. For more on this discussion, please refer to my previous post by clicking here and here.

Retro-Comparo: Super Mario Bros. 3 vs. Super Mario World

Comparing two classic games out of a mega-popular franchise is extremely difficult because... well, both games are unilaterally considered classics. But, it becomes even more arduous of a task when both games were for consoles of different generations. In this case, I'm going to look at Super Mario Bros. 3 (SMB3), which was originally released for the NES, and Super Mario World (SMW) for the SNES. Now, to level the playing field, I will actually compare the SNES version of SMB3 that was included in Super Mario All-Stars, a compilation of the first three Super Mario Bros. games that were first released for the NES in the United States (not counting Super Mario Bros. 2: The Lost Worlds). SMB3 was remastered with enhanced graphics, colors, and sound and programmed with the ability to save progress. So here goes - my comparison of SMB3 and SMW:

Graphics:

Comparing SMB3 for the SNES to SMW, graphics are of similar quality, driven by the SNES' 16-bit graphics processor. That said, the sprites and backgrounds in SMW are prettier and smoother than SMB3 with more detail and rounded edges. Colors are also more vivid in SMW, despite the revamping of SMB3 in All-Stars, which was released three years after SMW. Win - SMW

Sound:

Differentiating sound effect quality between these two games on the SNES is like picking nits, so I won't do that. If anything, both games feature the technology of the SNES well, especially when comparing it to the Genesis' 8-bit sound. Win - push

Music:

SMW has the advantage of musical composition for a 16-bit system, which means (I think) more tracks and more layered sound. But, SMB3 has the benefit of nostalgia and outstanding melodies, even compared to games today. To be honest, the music in SMW is a cut better, despite the fond memories of SMB3. Win - SMW

Stage Design:

Though SMB3 would have the advantage of nostalgia, SMW put forth some serious complications in its stage design, such as different stage endings depending on how quickly you finish the initial parts of a stage. That said, SMB3 is just plain classic with killer suns and those levels where everything is giant. Win - SMB3

Bonus Stages:

The Ghost Houses and hidden fortresses of SMW versus the mushroom houses and flying ships of SMB3... Give me the latter. Win - SMB3

Hit Detection:

Direct landings from above squash bad guys in either game, though SMW benefits from a spin jump that eliminates baddies in one landing. However, both games suffer when interpreting landings from a down angle; hit detection is iffy, in my opinion. Win - push

Miscellaneous:

This one is hard. Both games have the grow-to-giant-size mushroom and the fire flower, but SMB3 has multiple power-ups, such as the raccoon suit, the frog suit, the hammer suit (which lets you throw hammers), and a tanuki suit that gives you the ability to turn into a stone statue (!). Conversely, SMW has a super cape and probably the most important "power-up" in the Super Mario Bros. franchise: Yoshi, a dinosaur that Mario can ride and use to devour bad guys. Also, both games have world maps that allow you to navigate to different levels in an order you choose, and memorable foes in each level. So hard to pick... Win - push

Overall winner - SMW!

I prefer Super Mario World because it was originally designed for a 16-bit system, so it benefits from the capabilities of the SNES. SMB3 was originally designed for the 8-bit NES; though it was enhanced for the SNES, levels are not as complex and rich as those in SMW. SMW also has Yoshi and a cuteness factor that is more apparent than with SMB3. It's really hard to pick, but if pressured I'd pick Super Mario World.

Sonic the Hedgehog: 1HN Blast Processing Original

In light of my last post about Sonic the Hedgehog 2, I thought it would be appropos to talk about its predecessor: Sonic the Hedgehog. Back in my college days, I owned Sonic the Hedgehog (heretofore Sonic 1), which was the classic side-scrolling platformer that both started the Sonic franchise and convinced Sega Genesis owners (and wannabe owners) that "Blast Processing" was as real as Sonic's speed runs. At that time, the Genesis and Super Nintendo were duking it out for the top spot in the market; I jumped into the Console Wars in media res, buying my Genesis in Spring 1993. I had received Sonic 1 as a part of send-away offer for only the cost of shipping and handling. However, because I was a huge EA Sports game fan and wasn't interested in platformers at the time, Sonic 1 did more to frustrate me than amuse me, so I ended up selling Sonic 1 as a used game to Electronics Boutique, where I most likely purchased some EA Sports game with the proceeds.

Fast forward to 2011: after having played Sonic 2 somewhat extensively, I regret my impatience with Sonic 1. Sure, Sonic 1 didn't have Spin Dash or Tails or many of the speed parts of Sonic 2, but Sonic 1 has three advantages over its successor: Sonic 1 was THE original, which carries with it a unique sense of nostalgia; though the 3D-perspective bonus stages in Sonic 2 are fun and challenging, the bonus stages in Sonic 1 present a directional challenge that appears to be absent from every other Sonic game; and, it is the cheapest cartridge to buy among all the Sonic titles for the Genesis right now... If you perform a search for Sonic Genesis games on eBay, you'll see this bear out.

In any case, Sonic 1 is still an excellent platformer with much to offer to the wayward gamer, such as creative level design, bilateral movement (i.e. you can go left to right to left, which was new compared to Super Mario Bros. 1), and, honestly, superlative 8-bit music (Yes, I said "8-bit music" -- the Genesis had a 16-bit processor, but an 8-bit Zilog Z80 sound controller). More importantly, Sonic 1 raised the ante in the Console Wars between Sega and Nintendo by both giving Sega a marketable mascot and a viable rival in gameplay and presentation to the Mario series of games on the NES and SNES. For all of these reasons, if you have a chance, buy Sonic 1; I'm sure you won't regret it nearly as much as I regret having sold it for some forgotten EA Sports game.

Zanac: 1HN Fun Frantic Shmup

Ah, Zanac. Wuh, you've never heard of Zanac? Well, it wasn't one of those well-known classics in the NES library -- just a vertical bottom-to-top shoot-em-up flying game with power-ups, lots of bad guys, and stage upon stage of bases to destroy. Just imagine 1942 in the future... And, like most shoot-em-ups (shmups), the action gets frenetic and the projectiles keep coming... and coming... and coming.

Zanac would not stand out too much if it weren't for one bit of programming: apparently, Zanac was programmed with artificial intelligence that made Zanac more difficult the better you played. So, if you start out strong, the enemies come out in droves. The stronger you are, the more the enemies come out. If you die, your ship reappears, but the enemies come out fewer than before. For a long time, when I played Zanac, I believed that this programming existed, but that was when I was a teenager. Recently, I played Zanac again and realized something: the enemies that come out, and the amount that come out, is almost directly related to which power-ups you get and how many you get.

Here's how it works... There are eight possible power-ups numbered 0-7. You start out with 0, which is a special orb-shooting weapon. If you pick up another 0 power-up, you shoot two streams of orbs and more aliens emerge. I noticed that when I picked up 3, which is an orb that circles your ship like a defensive shield, special kinds of enemies that launch barrages of missiles and eject indestructible shells attack. Whichever power-up you get, you get certain enemies; if you get another power-up of the same type, more baddies attack.

So, Zanac is a fun shmup with some cool power-ups, fast-paced action, and lots of chaos, but the aliens are unspectacular and, like most shmups, the cheese is poured on thick. Nothing is worse than dodging a bunch of foes and projectiles only to explode because one stray projectile grazes your ship, as in passes one pixel from your ship. To become really good at Zanac, you have to enter a mental state in which you just focus on dodging while holding down both the standard fire button and the special weapon button. Just move and shoot... Oh, and never, ever get anything but 0, 3, or 7. The rest are a waste of time, especially 2. Trust me.

Super Mario Bros. 2: 1HN Sitting on Airborne Eggs

Ah, Super Mario Bros. 2: the oft-forgotten game in the NES/SNES library of Mario games. As I mentioned in my brief review of SMB: The Lost Levels, Super Mario Bros. 2 was originally a game called Yume Kojo: Doki Doki Panic, which was released in Japan as a title that was completely unrelated to any Mario game before it. However, when Nintendo saw in its infinite wisdom how much of a cheesefest the original Super Mario Bros. 2 game was, they re-worked the characters in Yume Kojo: Doki Doki Panic and re-badged that game as Super Mario Bros. 2. Thus, for decades, Americans were playing a game that they grew to know and love, but was not originally a Mario game at all.

Here is what I think about that: it doesn't matter at all. The American... I mean, our Super Mario Bros. 2 is an absolute hoot. What better way is there to spend a couple of hours than jumping onto foes, pulling them over your sprite's head, and then throwing them at other foes? There aren't many better options than that! Super Mario Bros. 2 plays unlike other Mario games in this regard: instead of squishing bad guys with your ample posterior, you pick them up and throw them at other bad guys. You can also pick up radishes, keys, and even POW blocks with devastating effect. You can even jump onto enemy eggs as they are shot at you, pick them up in mid-air, and then throw them back at the enemy!

Modes of attack aside, Super Mario Bros. 2 is also unlike its brethren in that there are no raccoon or tanuki suits, no fire-flowers, and no Yoshi. Instead, you get a choice of four characters (the first time a Mario game featured this), a kind of life meter with a maximum of three hits, potions that lead to the negative world where objects turn into coins, and you get annoying phantom faces that chase you around if you pick up a key. This game feels very different from its brethren that it's almost... like an unrelated game. Go figure.

Super Mario Bros. 2 is a lot of fun for all ages. Is it violent? Perhaps, but I contend that Mario/Luigi/Toad/Princess are just trying to defend themselves from these dastardly foes. I am a Christian, I believe in Jesus, and I can say this: the Bible has its violent moments, especially the battles in the books of 1 and 2 Samuel, and 1 and 2 Chronicles. But, the violence was not for violence's sake -- it happened for numerous reasons that were sometimes in God's will and sometimes committed by those who weren't in His will. Anyway, my point is that Super Mario Bros. 2 is not nearly as violent and is a lot more innocent than the kids' shows out there today.

Okay, I'll get off my soapbox...

Super Mario Bros. 2 is most fun played with enhanced graphics and sound on the Super Mario All-Stars SNES cartridge, but if you can get your hands on the NES cartridge, it's the same game. By the way, this is a first-hand nostalgia (1HN) game for me: I played this back in the day, and it's as fun now as it was back then.

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.

Ice Climber: 1HN Cooperative Block Breaker

Back in the late 80s, one of THE first NES games I received from my mom and dad was Ice Climber. It's a simple platformer in which you play one of two parka-wearing climbers named Popo (who wears blue) and Nana (who wears red). You can guess the gender of each, though it doesn't matter.

Anyway, the great thing about Ice Climber (this is back in the late 80s, mind you) was that you could play cooperatively (or competitively) with another player. Unfortunately, as an only child, I rarely got the chance to play alongside someone else, but I was used to that.

The point of the game was easy to understand: break the ice blocks of the floor above your character using your hammer, and then jump through the hole to go up. Do this as many times as it takes to get to the top floor, from which you start the bonus stage. Along the way, you encounter ice-pushing white flightless birds and red bird-like flying creatures (pterodactyls?); the white birds do not try to harm you directly, but do if you touch them, but the red birds (pterodactyls) almost always seem to gun for your character. If that's not enough, there's a polar bear that will appear if you linger too long on a lower floor and stomp to make the screen rise one floor. If this happens while you are on the bottom floor of the screen (or if you fall through an ice hole in the bottom floor), your character dies.

To defend yourself against these baddies, you can use your hammer to bonk them at floor-level, or you can jump into the baddie (especially if it's the flying red bird), as you do when you break ice blocks. To lend to the cooperative intent of the game, you cannot mallet your partner, though you can push your partner through holes (if you are so malicious).

Ice Climber is the type of game that you can pick up and play with a friend for a half-hour of mindless fun, either helping each other or interfering with each other. Each subsequent level adds new difficulties: moving floors and cloud platforms, fewer blocks on which to stand, greater frequencies of creatures, and the like. When my sons play Ice Climber, they neither play cooperatively nor competitively -- they just try to do something with their controllers to make the characters move and survive. Their gaming sessions are hilarious and frustrating in equal measure. Nonetheless, once you and your friend begin to master Ice Climber, you may find the game stimulating, at least for that half-hour.