- R2RKMF/single screen/other
- Rolling Thunder 2
- Psychic 5
- Cadash
Shmups - Phelios
- Master of Weapon
- Darius
- Darius II
- Facets
- Genres
- Difficulty
- 1-CC (the concept of)
Don't forget to spread the love, at any case.
RRR: Index of squibs
Devil World/Dark Adventure (Konami, 1987)
Plans from here to the end of April:
Don't forget to spread the love, at any case.
Don't forget to spread the love, at any case.
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
Re: RRR: Index of squibs
Dark Adventure (US) is a shockingly blatant quarter-muncher, with that vampiric health drain. Even compared to fellow KUSA (
) infamies like Haunted Castle and its 2HKOs, it's appalling. I would be surprised to see a 1CC of it on defaults. (this chap cleared it on Easy - headphones warning - which sounds pretty impressive as-is)
...I almost wonder if DA is one of those games that canonically defaults to Easy, ala many famous Tecmo and SNK hits.
Would explain a lot. 
The less intriguingly unique, yet infinitely more playable JP/EU game retained a few stubborn RNGs I never reckoned, in my late 2023 play. (good god damn, the time went quickly) I could deal with the key placements - the run I uploaded got the absolute worst on Pacifica, I thought it looked rad. 
But those goddamn Cokes would leave me hanging sometimes. Offhand, feels like there's a minor chance of getting shafted outta the 1LC; though it'd take a presumably biblical drought of refined carbs to rob a skilled player of their whole credit. Baby steps, Konami! 
Not to over-indulge in my schoolboy funnin', but I cannot resist mentioning my minor episode Dark Adventure Is Still Pretty Punk, Steve! In which Big Internet™ relentlessly deleted my upload of KUSA's scandalous, customarily cosplay-tastic flyer! (foot of post) It seems they've since come to their senses, it being 1.5yrs since the last purging of this vintage Indy Jonez tribute. Or maybe Imgur has simply refined their No Boobs Robot's AI? Either way, this game clearly remained controversial some 35yrs post-release.
) infamies like Haunted Castle and its 2HKOs, it's appalling. I would be surprised to see a 1CC of it on defaults. (this chap cleared it on Easy - headphones warning - which sounds pretty impressive as-is)...I almost wonder if DA is one of those games that canonically defaults to Easy, ala many famous Tecmo and SNK hits.
Would explain a lot. Or "Normal," as Argus no Senshi, Ninja Ryukenden, and Gemini Wing's JP manuals call it (GW pictured)
But those goddamn Cokes would leave me hanging sometimes. Offhand, feels like there's a minor chance of getting shafted outta the 1LC; though it'd take a presumably biblical drought of refined carbs to rob a skilled player of their whole credit. Baby steps, Konami! Not to over-indulge in my schoolboy funnin', but I cannot resist mentioning my minor episode Dark Adventure Is Still Pretty Punk, Steve! In which Big Internet™ relentlessly deleted my upload of KUSA's scandalous, customarily cosplay-tastic flyer! (foot of post) It seems they've since come to their senses, it being 1.5yrs since the last purging of this vintage Indy Jonez tribute. Or maybe Imgur has simply refined their No Boobs Robot's AI? Either way, this game clearly remained controversial some 35yrs post-release.
光あふれる 未来もとめて, whoa~oh ♫
[THE MIRAGE OF MIND] Metal Black ST [THE JUSTICE MASSACRE] Gun.Smoke ST [STAB & STOMP]
Devil World/Dark Adventure (Konami, 1987)+Rolling Thunder (Namco, 1986)+Carrier Airwing/US Navy (Capcom, 1990)+1943/1943
I am more or less sure that Konami christened their tradition of making almost impossible US versions with either Dark Adventure or some slightly earlier but rather obscure title (Rock'n Rage?) I am actually pretty sure that they started earlier but degenerated by this title or DA: I have these really faint memories of me trying one of their early 1980s games and finding minor but clear differences in difficulty between US and JP/EU versions. Perhaps their collaboration with Williams led them to the conclusion that they had to target the US market in...head-scratching manners, I guess.
Re: DA:
Colas should appear after 20k points and then every 60k points or so, but it seems that they will only appear on some Stages, and only if you hit the target score while playing the target Stage. I do not have explicit proof in the form of manuals or other documentation, but in the few replays I have seen in the game, players seem to time their score progression accordingly and get all the colas at the right spots (no "coke" for me - I attended arcades, and that word has developed horrible connotations in my head 
).
I suspect that the issue with the flyer is that it might be a rip-off of something. The Japanese one is a rip-off of Return of the Jedi, so I was wondering if imgur would block that one as well. AI should be trained to block anything showing full cleavages, so that flyer strikes me as...too prudish (?) to be an issue for those zealot AI's (oh, the absolutely venomous jokes I have been deleting while writing this post!). I can see the images from the old post, so I guess that they have become vaguely better at it. Maybe.
The true question is: why Zalroc, the second archaeologist character, looks like he's just returned from a Miami Vice marathon night? Ah, the 1980s.
Anyway, I am definitely not touching this game ever again, but I felt the "duty", for the lack of a less inappropriate word, to squib about it and cleanse my memories of all the negativity. Let us also check if the new approach to posts titles is more informative: weekly updates, all rolled up into one headline.
Re: DA:
Colas should appear after 20k points and then every 60k points or so, but it seems that they will only appear on some Stages, and only if you hit the target score while playing the target Stage. I do not have explicit proof in the form of manuals or other documentation, but in the few replays I have seen in the game, players seem to time their score progression accordingly and get all the colas at the right spots (no "coke" for me - I attended arcades, and that word has developed horrible connotations in my head
).I suspect that the issue with the flyer is that it might be a rip-off of something. The Japanese one is a rip-off of Return of the Jedi, so I was wondering if imgur would block that one as well. AI should be trained to block anything showing full cleavages, so that flyer strikes me as...too prudish (?) to be an issue for those zealot AI's (oh, the absolutely venomous jokes I have been deleting while writing this post!). I can see the images from the old post, so I guess that they have become vaguely better at it. Maybe.
The true question is: why Zalroc, the second archaeologist character, looks like he's just returned from a Miami Vice marathon night? Ah, the 1980s.
Anyway, I am definitely not touching this game ever again, but I felt the "duty", for the lack of a less inappropriate word, to squib about it and cleanse my memories of all the negativity. Let us also check if the new approach to posts titles is more informative: weekly updates, all rolled up into one headline.
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
Rolling Thunder 2 (Namco, 1990)
We now move to the discussion of Rolling Thunder as a follow-up to our discussion of Rolling Thunder in last week’s update. First, however, I must offer a bit of book-keeping. I will complete the seven squibs that I mentioned in last week’s update at a slower pace, as I will switch to two squibs per week from now to the end of this academic year (i.e. August 2025). Life happens, so this moderately slower pace is necessary. Again, however, I will also aim at posting theoretically-oriented squibs at the end of the four remaining months (May, June, July and August). Once I will clear the current batch of squibs, I will post which other games-based squibs I will post during this year and, probably, in the next academic year. Please do not expect a very precise schedule until I sort out what games I want to write about, though.
Some more introductory material, before we begin, can be useful. The game features an Mega Drive port that should have a lower difficulty level, two extra stages and cutscenes showing howLeila and Albatross have a friendship akin to Mr. Steed and Mrs. Peel from The Avengers. Modern ports appear in Arcade Archives and Namco Museum line-ups: they offer arcade-perfect renditions. There is an MD-exclusive sequel, Rolling Thunder 3, which should offer a side-story (“Gaiden”) game to the events in the second game. Rolling Thunder 2 originally was a J(a)P(an) only release, but there is also a near-identical US version. For this squib, however, grab your Martinis and be ready to swing wildly, since we begin:
Rolling Thunder 2 (Namco, 1990) is a direct sequel to Namco’s Rolling Thunder and thus an R2RKMF/tactical action shooting game. The game runs on Namco’s more powerful board System 2 and features rich scaling and rotating visual effects, coupled with luscious settings and a glorious OST. The game sees the return of codename “Leila” and codename “Albatross” in a late 1980s’ setting, with a resurgent Geldra trying again to conquer the world. The game also follows a formula close to the original Rolling Thunder with respect to game mechanics and Stage design. The game also offers a few tweaks and fewer quirks that make the experience perhaps less demanding, even if the last Stage is an absolute gaming tour de force. My goal in this squib is to convince readers that the game is a sometimes frustrating but often glorious experience, if only because clearing the final Stage requires superb skills.
Let us move the clock forward in the discussion of this series by analysing the game’s micro-context of release. By 1990, Namco released a notable series of game on their new System 2 hardware that offered gorgeous scaling and rotating effects. A few memorable titles include Phelios, Dragon Saber among “standard” shmups, Assault as a twin-stick variant of the genre. We can include Valkyrie no Densetsu and Märchen Maze as action games with original mechanics and female leads and as quite innovative approaches to this genre. Namco’s commitment to innovation found however a indirect challenge in Capcom’s Strider and its other action/platform games, plus Data East’s Sly Spy take on the tactical shooting micro-genre. “Action” in arcade games was rapidly evolving towards games offering many degrees of freedom to players, and the Rolling Thunder formula suddenly appeared rather outdated. In many aspects, Rolling Thunder 2 seems a direct answer to this challenge.
The game’s answer is perhaps not particularly elaborate, but we can fully address this matter once we outline the game’s plot and game/world setting. It is the year 199X and a mysterious organisation, armed with their own Shuttles is destroying key communication satellites (in perfect James Bond style, of course). Criminal organisation Geldra has resurfaced and their leader Gimdo has decided that conquering the world is a noble goal, after all. The world precipitates into chaos and the WCPO (World Criminal Police Organization) decides to send Leila and Albatross to investigate. The coolest couple of middle-aged agents thus begins their mission to bring peace and harmony again. Their dangerous mission brings them to first investigate an immense underground below Miami’s ocean floor, and then another immense underground base below Egypt’s pyramids. Once successful, Leila and Albatross fly Geldra’s shuttle to space and receive universal praise for their secret mission, apparently.
The plot thus pilfers ideas from various bits of the James Bond lore and presents Leila as the current protagonist (i.e. the 1P character). Albatross, instead, is the deuteragonist (i.e. the 2P character). The game mechanics, instead, remain very similar to the first title: I offer a compact but accurate synopsis to avoid that my readers will find the next few paragraphs tedious. The joysticks control Leila and Albatross’ movements in eight directions, and the B button controls jumps. Leila and Albatross can high jump (up+jump) and jump down (down+jump) as in the first title to change elevation/platforms. They can enter doors as they wish (up when occupying a door’s entrance). Normal jumps cover a slightly shorter distance and have a slightly shorter duration, and the two agents still cannot shoot while jumping. Be sure to time jumps precisely and “recalibrate” their distance, thus.
The A buttons control shots: Leila and Albatross start with 40 gun bullets and can stock up bullets by entering ammo rooms. The two agents can also get machinegun bullets in the opportune doors, and refills for both weapons usually involve lower amounts of bullets when compared to the first tile. Differently from the first game, bouncing into enemies will not entail a loss of H(it)(Point)s, which now appear as two dots below the number of lives in stock. Be sure, however, to “bump away” from enemies and into chasms or abysses. Players can get an extra life at 100k points, so they have one extend less to complete the game. Leila can carry extra bullets into new stages but, if they die or deplete their ammos, they restock 40 gun bullets at the beginning of a new stage. Bullets now travel faster, so be sure adjust to their speed.
The key game mechanic in Rolling Thunder, time and its lack thereof, plays a subtler role in this title. For the first “story” (i.e. the four Stages set in Miami’s ocean), Stages offer enough time for players to proceed at a moderate pace and avoid losing lives due to time out. For the second “story” (i.e. the four Egyptian Stages), players must proceed at a briskier pace, but also be very careful during Stage sections involving specific enemies. For instance, on Stage five players must halt and spend a few seconds killing enemies looking like giant humanoid hedgehogs, before proceeding. On Stage eight, players must indeed wait that some enemies exit the screen, before they can proceed. The game overall allows players to clear each Stage within the allotted time, unlike in some revisions of the first game. However, players must handle Stage progression very carefully, indeed.
Before we address this Facet of the game and how it ties to difficulty, we explore more the audio-visual Facets. Rolling Thunder 2 appears as a gorgeous game with a vast colour palette, gloriously detailed and creative settings, and 2.D effects that are as stunning as they are elegant. Stage four and Stage eight show offer these views of the underground bases’ core that evoke feelings of immense underground caves hosting full armies set to conquer the world, indeed. Leila and Albatross also look incredibly elegant, as they kill goons in stilettos (Leila) and a tie (Albatross) with panache. Stages five and six and their Egyptian theme may appear camp, by today’s standards, but they quickly lead to the much cooler underground base settings. Stage four ends in an underground submarine port from which Geldra’s leader Gimdo flees to Egypt; Stage eight’s final battle is next to Geldra’s shuttle.
A perhaps perplexing or at least peculiar aspect of the game is that the quality of the animation appears somehow inferior to the original game, possibly due to different factors. To the best of my understanding, all sprites in the game are slightly smaller in size with respect to their Rolling Thunder counterparts. Furthermore, the game’s hardware graphical specifications seem to cause a slight flickering effect. I am not an expert of these matters in the least, but the subjective impression is that enemies and bullets appear having fewer smooth animation frames than in the first title. Leila and Albatross, however, move quite smoothly. This impression may confuse players when Albatross and Leila bump into enemies or when several enemies appear at once: distinguishing characters moving “at different frame rates” may be confusing. Nevertheless, the game’s visuals are still impressive and vastly superior to most subsequent 2D arcade endeavours.
The OST is easily the strongest aesthetical Facet of the game. Rolling Thunder 2 is Ayako Saso’s maiden work as a videogame composer; possibly, one of her strongest oeuvres ever. The OST takes inspiration from big band Jazz and more modern funk-oriented action movie themes, with a bit of pure Jazz thrown in for good measure. Unlike Rolling Thunder’s darker recurring theme, Rolling Thunder 2 has multiple Stage-specific themes that also aptly match the Stage’s themes. Stage two’s Residence of Terrible has a flippant funky tone suggesting intrigue in Geldra’s mansion; Stage four’s Where is the Target? opens with a quick slap-bass funk and moves into James Bond-esque swing by the mis-section. Of course, Stage five’s A view of dynamism tries to capture the exotic feeling of adventuring in Egypt while killing Geldra goons and saving the world. The OST’s multiple sources of inspiration and genre blend seamlessly, aptly matching the visuals.
The strong pieces in an overall impressive OST however include the attract theme sequence and Stage eight’s final tryptic. The attract movie pilfers from Bond’s movies and offers an elegant “early synth-pop” piece providing an equally dramatic and epic overture to the game’s action. Stage eight, the final Stage, includes Running Decayed, The final command and Theme ftom Gimdo]. The first theme plays while Leila and Albatross cross the sewers’ opening section; the second theme, when they ascend to the shuttle launch pad. The third and final theme plays when the two protagonists should be on their last few bullets and must kill Gimdo, whence the perfectly chosen title. The three songs create a “slow and dramatic, fast and epic, frantic and tense” sequence of atmospheres that would possibly rival most action movies’ OSTs. Rolling Thunder 2 is, from an audio-visual perspective, a marvellously designed, intensely cinematographic though not perfect game.
The game’s incredibly sleek and technically advanced presentation does not however match the perhaps already if slightly outdated mechanics and game’s difficulty. As for the first title, three Facets act as sources of difficulty: Game mechanics, Stage design and layout, and the interaction between the two Facets as a third complex Facet. Again, I provide a concise but accurate overview of these Facets that partly presupposes knowledge of the corresponding discussion in Rolling Thunder’s squib. Again, I assume that these Facets motivate 20, 20 and 10 points respectively, for a total of 50 points. For the first Facet, players must learn how Leila and Albatross move, their exact length of their jumps, and the HPs of each of their enemies. Some enemies have 8 HPs and act as veritable “bullet sponges”; some jumps require pixel-perfect precision. For this facet, I thus propose 10/20 points of difficulty also in this sequel.
The second Facet attracts a relatively lower 10/20 points, when compared to Rolling Thunder’s 14/20 difficulty points for this Facet. The simple reason behind this choice is that the game has eight Stages (i.e. two “stories” or loops of four Stages each), but the final Stage has three distinct, very challenging parts. Thus, players must master the equivalent of 10 Stages’ worth of enemies’ placements, traps, and sneak attacks. The third Facet absorbs another 10 points out of 10 allotted (i.e. we have 10/10 points), even if the sub-Facets motivating this choice differently subtly from the first game. I concentrate on those that appear novel, and that play a role in Stage seven and eight. When players access these Stages, the time limits appear generous, but the bullet count can be misleading. Players must clear these Stages by not killing enemies with high HPs simply de-spawn from stages.
The details are as follows. On stage seven, players can only replenish twice, and they likely enter the Stage with low ammo supplies. By the end of this Stage, players likely need to restock 40 bullets before they begin Stage eight. On Stage eight, players must avoid killing enemies that have four HPs or higher: bullets will not suffice, otherwise. Players must thus develop a route that involves entering doors for protracted periods (hold up when inside a room), and let enemies exit the screen. Time appears abundant, but that is because players must take this option several times, or they will reach the final sequence and boss without bullets. If successful, anyway, players enter the final sequence with enough bullets and time to kill Gimdo and save the world. Expect to clear the Stage with less than five second and bullets, on the best run.
For this reason, I propose that the total difficulty of the game is 30/50 points: the game is a top-tier challenge for expert players, and a slightly easier game than Rolling Thunder. Notably, there are no considerable differences among versions, so players can 1-CC either one of them to achieve this goal. However, I believe that the last Stage involves a steep transition from 24/50 points to 30/50 points, as players progress through its three parts. Notably, players can decide which enemies not to kill, once they have strategies to de-spawn the enemies with the highest HPs. Whatever subtly different paths players devise, execution must be flawless and possibly follow the outstanding OST’s pace. If done properly, however, players can display guile (hide in the doors), flawless tactical choices (no wasted bullets) and get a final thrill. Again, pixel-perfect routes allow a heart-stopping buffer of a few seconds and bullets.
The picture emerging from our discussion is that Rolling Thunder 2 is a beautiful game with a superb design that however does not innovate much on its predecessor’s formula. Xenny, at this point, would be happy if I would move to the conclusions, of course. I must tell you, however, about my experiences with the game first, so that the poor xenomorph will be foaming at his/her/its/xen/whatever mouth and rid us from our pestering neighbours. It is 1996 and I am getting ready for my new journey. I have entered the national naval college, so I will complete my last two high school years while being in the Navy, technically. I am not sure on what to expect, but I know that “fun” like games and tabletop RPGs will disappear. Then again, as a minor I do not decide on these matters of my own life.
I have several occasions to visit my uncle’s arcade, which by this summer begins to be more of a graveyard of old cabs than a proper arcade. I also go with him to visit the EUR Luna Park in Rome, which has the largest arcade in Italy and possibly in Europe. The arcade is a hangar and a display for prospective buyers and operators: people can play games before they buy boards and cabs. In our visits before “prison”, as my uncle calls it, I have the chance to play this game, Elevator Action Returns and Raystorm. Over eight consecutive Sunday visits, I can manage to practice the game enough to reach once Stage six. This game might be six years old but it is beautiful and absurdly tough, for my current skills. Once in the college, Leila and Albatross disappear quickly from my memories.
In 2000, I am enjoying my MAME gap year with irresponsible abandon. I clear games as if the futile endeavour would give me back the years lost in the maelstrom of my Navy ordeal. I solve several grudges, as my squibs on Side Arms and Dinasty Wars explain. Rolling Thunder 2, however, represents an insurmountable obstacle: I have no idea on how to clear Stage eight, given that bullets end too early. I give up once I realise that I must make sense of my life and I must study. I give up again in 2004 (Konstanz), 2006 (Utrecht), 2012 (Stockholm) and even 2018 (Guangzhou), each pair of a year and a place in which I believe that I can 1-CC game. Sometimes it is patience, sometimes it is lack of good gaming form, sometimes it is just lack of time to practice.
It is 2022 when I finally recover the video I posted at the beginning of the squib and I decide to prepare some save states, to practice each Stage. This time I have the patience, time and even the will to learn the final Stage properly. As I mention in this thread, I am on a recent “grudge quest” and by this time in life, I have decided that this game I will 1-CC, yes indeed. My attempts to do not go in vain: the thread gives my readers an overview of a long grudge going to rest, finally. Yet, I can safely say that in 1995, 2000, 2004, 2006, 2012, 2018 and in 2022, the game frustrates me to no end. Still, a victory is a victory, and some of my final victories even include performances improving on the reference video. Now, that feels satisfying indeed.
In conclusion, Rolling Thunder 2 is a tactical shooting action/R2RKMF game by Namco released in 1990 and still looking and sounding better than most “modern” 2D games. The game plays like an updated version of its predecessor Rolling Thunder, pitting again agents Leila and Albatross against world-conquering terrorist group Geldra. The game is notable for its high but not extreme difficulty, its superb OST and for the incredible coolness of the two protagonists. The game is also notable in having an incredibly challenging and yet highly flexible final Stage that brings the concept of “tactical shooting” to its most emphatic and elegant extremes. Players who want to challenge themselves in 1-CC’ing a remarkably difficult and yet superbly elegant game, and looking good while doing it, should have a crack at this game. Be sure, in case, to have some exquisite Martinis to celebrate the triumph with hubris and style.
(2811 words/5.12 pages; the usual disclaimers apply; I always believed that having someone as cool as Leila as the protagonist should be a mandatory first choice for any action game. I am pretty sure that I will write some more serious and elaborate squib or perhaps even “proper paper” on the topic, too. I never understood how Leila and Albatross can perform those high jumps so easily, though. I mean, just how strong a human should be, to jump more than two metres and perform a one-arm muscle-up at peak height? Anyway, the game’s OST is possibly my favourite R2RKMF soundtrack ever, especially when I drink Martinis during breezy summer nights. Of course, everybody agreed with me once I played the corresponding mixtape in my car’s stereo, many moons ago. Ah, the joys of being BA students and shameless geeks!).
Some more introductory material, before we begin, can be useful. The game features an Mega Drive port that should have a lower difficulty level, two extra stages and cutscenes showing howLeila and Albatross have a friendship akin to Mr. Steed and Mrs. Peel from The Avengers. Modern ports appear in Arcade Archives and Namco Museum line-ups: they offer arcade-perfect renditions. There is an MD-exclusive sequel, Rolling Thunder 3, which should offer a side-story (“Gaiden”) game to the events in the second game. Rolling Thunder 2 originally was a J(a)P(an) only release, but there is also a near-identical US version. For this squib, however, grab your Martinis and be ready to swing wildly, since we begin:
Rolling Thunder 2 (Namco, 1990) is a direct sequel to Namco’s Rolling Thunder and thus an R2RKMF/tactical action shooting game. The game runs on Namco’s more powerful board System 2 and features rich scaling and rotating visual effects, coupled with luscious settings and a glorious OST. The game sees the return of codename “Leila” and codename “Albatross” in a late 1980s’ setting, with a resurgent Geldra trying again to conquer the world. The game also follows a formula close to the original Rolling Thunder with respect to game mechanics and Stage design. The game also offers a few tweaks and fewer quirks that make the experience perhaps less demanding, even if the last Stage is an absolute gaming tour de force. My goal in this squib is to convince readers that the game is a sometimes frustrating but often glorious experience, if only because clearing the final Stage requires superb skills.
Let us move the clock forward in the discussion of this series by analysing the game’s micro-context of release. By 1990, Namco released a notable series of game on their new System 2 hardware that offered gorgeous scaling and rotating effects. A few memorable titles include Phelios, Dragon Saber among “standard” shmups, Assault as a twin-stick variant of the genre. We can include Valkyrie no Densetsu and Märchen Maze as action games with original mechanics and female leads and as quite innovative approaches to this genre. Namco’s commitment to innovation found however a indirect challenge in Capcom’s Strider and its other action/platform games, plus Data East’s Sly Spy take on the tactical shooting micro-genre. “Action” in arcade games was rapidly evolving towards games offering many degrees of freedom to players, and the Rolling Thunder formula suddenly appeared rather outdated. In many aspects, Rolling Thunder 2 seems a direct answer to this challenge.
The game’s answer is perhaps not particularly elaborate, but we can fully address this matter once we outline the game’s plot and game/world setting. It is the year 199X and a mysterious organisation, armed with their own Shuttles is destroying key communication satellites (in perfect James Bond style, of course). Criminal organisation Geldra has resurfaced and their leader Gimdo has decided that conquering the world is a noble goal, after all. The world precipitates into chaos and the WCPO (World Criminal Police Organization) decides to send Leila and Albatross to investigate. The coolest couple of middle-aged agents thus begins their mission to bring peace and harmony again. Their dangerous mission brings them to first investigate an immense underground below Miami’s ocean floor, and then another immense underground base below Egypt’s pyramids. Once successful, Leila and Albatross fly Geldra’s shuttle to space and receive universal praise for their secret mission, apparently.
The plot thus pilfers ideas from various bits of the James Bond lore and presents Leila as the current protagonist (i.e. the 1P character). Albatross, instead, is the deuteragonist (i.e. the 2P character). The game mechanics, instead, remain very similar to the first title: I offer a compact but accurate synopsis to avoid that my readers will find the next few paragraphs tedious. The joysticks control Leila and Albatross’ movements in eight directions, and the B button controls jumps. Leila and Albatross can high jump (up+jump) and jump down (down+jump) as in the first title to change elevation/platforms. They can enter doors as they wish (up when occupying a door’s entrance). Normal jumps cover a slightly shorter distance and have a slightly shorter duration, and the two agents still cannot shoot while jumping. Be sure to time jumps precisely and “recalibrate” their distance, thus.
The A buttons control shots: Leila and Albatross start with 40 gun bullets and can stock up bullets by entering ammo rooms. The two agents can also get machinegun bullets in the opportune doors, and refills for both weapons usually involve lower amounts of bullets when compared to the first tile. Differently from the first game, bouncing into enemies will not entail a loss of H(it)(Point)s, which now appear as two dots below the number of lives in stock. Be sure, however, to “bump away” from enemies and into chasms or abysses. Players can get an extra life at 100k points, so they have one extend less to complete the game. Leila can carry extra bullets into new stages but, if they die or deplete their ammos, they restock 40 gun bullets at the beginning of a new stage. Bullets now travel faster, so be sure adjust to their speed.
The key game mechanic in Rolling Thunder, time and its lack thereof, plays a subtler role in this title. For the first “story” (i.e. the four Stages set in Miami’s ocean), Stages offer enough time for players to proceed at a moderate pace and avoid losing lives due to time out. For the second “story” (i.e. the four Egyptian Stages), players must proceed at a briskier pace, but also be very careful during Stage sections involving specific enemies. For instance, on Stage five players must halt and spend a few seconds killing enemies looking like giant humanoid hedgehogs, before proceeding. On Stage eight, players must indeed wait that some enemies exit the screen, before they can proceed. The game overall allows players to clear each Stage within the allotted time, unlike in some revisions of the first game. However, players must handle Stage progression very carefully, indeed.
Before we address this Facet of the game and how it ties to difficulty, we explore more the audio-visual Facets. Rolling Thunder 2 appears as a gorgeous game with a vast colour palette, gloriously detailed and creative settings, and 2.D effects that are as stunning as they are elegant. Stage four and Stage eight show offer these views of the underground bases’ core that evoke feelings of immense underground caves hosting full armies set to conquer the world, indeed. Leila and Albatross also look incredibly elegant, as they kill goons in stilettos (Leila) and a tie (Albatross) with panache. Stages five and six and their Egyptian theme may appear camp, by today’s standards, but they quickly lead to the much cooler underground base settings. Stage four ends in an underground submarine port from which Geldra’s leader Gimdo flees to Egypt; Stage eight’s final battle is next to Geldra’s shuttle.
A perhaps perplexing or at least peculiar aspect of the game is that the quality of the animation appears somehow inferior to the original game, possibly due to different factors. To the best of my understanding, all sprites in the game are slightly smaller in size with respect to their Rolling Thunder counterparts. Furthermore, the game’s hardware graphical specifications seem to cause a slight flickering effect. I am not an expert of these matters in the least, but the subjective impression is that enemies and bullets appear having fewer smooth animation frames than in the first title. Leila and Albatross, however, move quite smoothly. This impression may confuse players when Albatross and Leila bump into enemies or when several enemies appear at once: distinguishing characters moving “at different frame rates” may be confusing. Nevertheless, the game’s visuals are still impressive and vastly superior to most subsequent 2D arcade endeavours.
The OST is easily the strongest aesthetical Facet of the game. Rolling Thunder 2 is Ayako Saso’s maiden work as a videogame composer; possibly, one of her strongest oeuvres ever. The OST takes inspiration from big band Jazz and more modern funk-oriented action movie themes, with a bit of pure Jazz thrown in for good measure. Unlike Rolling Thunder’s darker recurring theme, Rolling Thunder 2 has multiple Stage-specific themes that also aptly match the Stage’s themes. Stage two’s Residence of Terrible has a flippant funky tone suggesting intrigue in Geldra’s mansion; Stage four’s Where is the Target? opens with a quick slap-bass funk and moves into James Bond-esque swing by the mis-section. Of course, Stage five’s A view of dynamism tries to capture the exotic feeling of adventuring in Egypt while killing Geldra goons and saving the world. The OST’s multiple sources of inspiration and genre blend seamlessly, aptly matching the visuals.
The strong pieces in an overall impressive OST however include the attract theme sequence and Stage eight’s final tryptic. The attract movie pilfers from Bond’s movies and offers an elegant “early synth-pop” piece providing an equally dramatic and epic overture to the game’s action. Stage eight, the final Stage, includes Running Decayed, The final command and Theme ftom Gimdo]. The first theme plays while Leila and Albatross cross the sewers’ opening section; the second theme, when they ascend to the shuttle launch pad. The third and final theme plays when the two protagonists should be on their last few bullets and must kill Gimdo, whence the perfectly chosen title. The three songs create a “slow and dramatic, fast and epic, frantic and tense” sequence of atmospheres that would possibly rival most action movies’ OSTs. Rolling Thunder 2 is, from an audio-visual perspective, a marvellously designed, intensely cinematographic though not perfect game.
The game’s incredibly sleek and technically advanced presentation does not however match the perhaps already if slightly outdated mechanics and game’s difficulty. As for the first title, three Facets act as sources of difficulty: Game mechanics, Stage design and layout, and the interaction between the two Facets as a third complex Facet. Again, I provide a concise but accurate overview of these Facets that partly presupposes knowledge of the corresponding discussion in Rolling Thunder’s squib. Again, I assume that these Facets motivate 20, 20 and 10 points respectively, for a total of 50 points. For the first Facet, players must learn how Leila and Albatross move, their exact length of their jumps, and the HPs of each of their enemies. Some enemies have 8 HPs and act as veritable “bullet sponges”; some jumps require pixel-perfect precision. For this facet, I thus propose 10/20 points of difficulty also in this sequel.
The second Facet attracts a relatively lower 10/20 points, when compared to Rolling Thunder’s 14/20 difficulty points for this Facet. The simple reason behind this choice is that the game has eight Stages (i.e. two “stories” or loops of four Stages each), but the final Stage has three distinct, very challenging parts. Thus, players must master the equivalent of 10 Stages’ worth of enemies’ placements, traps, and sneak attacks. The third Facet absorbs another 10 points out of 10 allotted (i.e. we have 10/10 points), even if the sub-Facets motivating this choice differently subtly from the first game. I concentrate on those that appear novel, and that play a role in Stage seven and eight. When players access these Stages, the time limits appear generous, but the bullet count can be misleading. Players must clear these Stages by not killing enemies with high HPs simply de-spawn from stages.
The details are as follows. On stage seven, players can only replenish twice, and they likely enter the Stage with low ammo supplies. By the end of this Stage, players likely need to restock 40 bullets before they begin Stage eight. On Stage eight, players must avoid killing enemies that have four HPs or higher: bullets will not suffice, otherwise. Players must thus develop a route that involves entering doors for protracted periods (hold up when inside a room), and let enemies exit the screen. Time appears abundant, but that is because players must take this option several times, or they will reach the final sequence and boss without bullets. If successful, anyway, players enter the final sequence with enough bullets and time to kill Gimdo and save the world. Expect to clear the Stage with less than five second and bullets, on the best run.
For this reason, I propose that the total difficulty of the game is 30/50 points: the game is a top-tier challenge for expert players, and a slightly easier game than Rolling Thunder. Notably, there are no considerable differences among versions, so players can 1-CC either one of them to achieve this goal. However, I believe that the last Stage involves a steep transition from 24/50 points to 30/50 points, as players progress through its three parts. Notably, players can decide which enemies not to kill, once they have strategies to de-spawn the enemies with the highest HPs. Whatever subtly different paths players devise, execution must be flawless and possibly follow the outstanding OST’s pace. If done properly, however, players can display guile (hide in the doors), flawless tactical choices (no wasted bullets) and get a final thrill. Again, pixel-perfect routes allow a heart-stopping buffer of a few seconds and bullets.
The picture emerging from our discussion is that Rolling Thunder 2 is a beautiful game with a superb design that however does not innovate much on its predecessor’s formula. Xenny, at this point, would be happy if I would move to the conclusions, of course. I must tell you, however, about my experiences with the game first, so that the poor xenomorph will be foaming at his/her/its/xen/whatever mouth and rid us from our pestering neighbours. It is 1996 and I am getting ready for my new journey. I have entered the national naval college, so I will complete my last two high school years while being in the Navy, technically. I am not sure on what to expect, but I know that “fun” like games and tabletop RPGs will disappear. Then again, as a minor I do not decide on these matters of my own life.
I have several occasions to visit my uncle’s arcade, which by this summer begins to be more of a graveyard of old cabs than a proper arcade. I also go with him to visit the EUR Luna Park in Rome, which has the largest arcade in Italy and possibly in Europe. The arcade is a hangar and a display for prospective buyers and operators: people can play games before they buy boards and cabs. In our visits before “prison”, as my uncle calls it, I have the chance to play this game, Elevator Action Returns and Raystorm. Over eight consecutive Sunday visits, I can manage to practice the game enough to reach once Stage six. This game might be six years old but it is beautiful and absurdly tough, for my current skills. Once in the college, Leila and Albatross disappear quickly from my memories.
In 2000, I am enjoying my MAME gap year with irresponsible abandon. I clear games as if the futile endeavour would give me back the years lost in the maelstrom of my Navy ordeal. I solve several grudges, as my squibs on Side Arms and Dinasty Wars explain. Rolling Thunder 2, however, represents an insurmountable obstacle: I have no idea on how to clear Stage eight, given that bullets end too early. I give up once I realise that I must make sense of my life and I must study. I give up again in 2004 (Konstanz), 2006 (Utrecht), 2012 (Stockholm) and even 2018 (Guangzhou), each pair of a year and a place in which I believe that I can 1-CC game. Sometimes it is patience, sometimes it is lack of good gaming form, sometimes it is just lack of time to practice.
It is 2022 when I finally recover the video I posted at the beginning of the squib and I decide to prepare some save states, to practice each Stage. This time I have the patience, time and even the will to learn the final Stage properly. As I mention in this thread, I am on a recent “grudge quest” and by this time in life, I have decided that this game I will 1-CC, yes indeed. My attempts to do not go in vain: the thread gives my readers an overview of a long grudge going to rest, finally. Yet, I can safely say that in 1995, 2000, 2004, 2006, 2012, 2018 and in 2022, the game frustrates me to no end. Still, a victory is a victory, and some of my final victories even include performances improving on the reference video. Now, that feels satisfying indeed.
In conclusion, Rolling Thunder 2 is a tactical shooting action/R2RKMF game by Namco released in 1990 and still looking and sounding better than most “modern” 2D games. The game plays like an updated version of its predecessor Rolling Thunder, pitting again agents Leila and Albatross against world-conquering terrorist group Geldra. The game is notable for its high but not extreme difficulty, its superb OST and for the incredible coolness of the two protagonists. The game is also notable in having an incredibly challenging and yet highly flexible final Stage that brings the concept of “tactical shooting” to its most emphatic and elegant extremes. Players who want to challenge themselves in 1-CC’ing a remarkably difficult and yet superbly elegant game, and looking good while doing it, should have a crack at this game. Be sure, in case, to have some exquisite Martinis to celebrate the triumph with hubris and style.
(2811 words/5.12 pages; the usual disclaimers apply; I always believed that having someone as cool as Leila as the protagonist should be a mandatory first choice for any action game. I am pretty sure that I will write some more serious and elaborate squib or perhaps even “proper paper” on the topic, too. I never understood how Leila and Albatross can perform those high jumps so easily, though. I mean, just how strong a human should be, to jump more than two metres and perform a one-arm muscle-up at peak height? Anyway, the game’s OST is possibly my favourite R2RKMF soundtrack ever, especially when I drink Martinis during breezy summer nights. Of course, everybody agreed with me once I played the corresponding mixtape in my car’s stereo, many moons ago. Ah, the joys of being BA students and shameless geeks!).
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
Psychic 5 (Jaleco, 1987)
We begin the new week-end with a little gem of a game: Psychic 5. The game has received a relatively recent remake, Psychic 5 Eternal, which has not met a particular wide appreciation. For our purposes, however, this small and now “ancient” gem by NMK and Jaleco represents a veritable trip down nostalgia lane. The game was already retro-oriented when it came out, due to its strong “1970s Esper manga” style. Discussing it in 2025 makes me feel like I am going into an archaeological expedition, hunting relics of a recently obliterated civilization. The game obtained a certain degree of success back in 1987, with a Famicom/NES starting a short franchise. At any case, here we discuss the arcade original version that players can find on the Eternal port, luckily. Onwards we go, to the squib:
Psychic 5 (NMK/Jaleco, 1987) is a multi-directional (ro)TATE scrolling platform game from NMK with distribution by Jaleco. The game pits five Espers with different physical and ψ (psi) powers against The Evil Satan. The quintet must enter eight mansions in which the Satan dwells and has infested with hundreds of malignant Yōkai/Poltergeists. Armed with hammers and rods of mystical power, the five heroes are the only bastion of hope against the satanic and poltergeist-y infestation. Players thus must move through eight stages and carve their way to The Evil Satan’s room, hammering Satan’s stony butt into oblivion. The game is notable for offering a free-form/multi-directional approach to platforming action, tons of score mechanics and secrets, and tons of zany, shōwa-era humour. The goal of this squib is to convince my readers that they must try this game at least once, in their lives.
Trying to define a specific context for this game may be tricky, and the wiki entry covers the historical background regarding NMK in some detail. The specific socio-cultural Facet that I wish to discuss in this squib pertains to platform games from 1987, to offer my readers a “feeling” of the evolution of this genre. In 1987, Taito released Rastan/Rastan Saga I and Capcom released Black Tiger, Tiger Road and Bionic Commando. These games offered multi-directional approaches to action/platform games that capitalised on Namco’s original design insight from Dragon Buster and, to a lesser extent, Sega’s Teddy Boy Blues. Players can move freely in this game, as stages extend across different screens: insofar they meet the requirements to clear a stage, they can approach the game as they wish. Psychic 5 applies this simple concept in a direct but at times subtly nuanced and wacky manner, starting from the underlying plot.
Psychic 5 pits a team of five Espers, with a design straight out of a 1970s-style shōnen manga, against “The Evil Satan” and its henchwoman, the witch Zara. These two creatures of evil have been infesting various mansions in highly improbable locations and have brought all the mansions’ objects to life, exploiting their resentment against humans. Some undefined entity tells the five Espers to investigate eight such cases, and therefore defeat the diabolic duo for the last time. The five Espers thus start a gruesome battle that sees them whacking anthropomorphic objects that qualify as various types of poltergeist or yōkai or both, depending on which cultural references you prefer. Once the Espers win all eight battles and banish Zara and The Evil Satan, the credits over, suggesting that it was all some kind of zany movie. Psychic 5 thus has a vaguely meta-fictional and certainly surreal setting.
The game’s mechanics build on this surreal setting and premise in an equally groovy manner. Players control the five Espers (Naoto, Akita, Bunta, Makoto and Kenzo) via the joystick and can move them in eight directions. The B button control jumps, which increase in height and duration via prolonged pressure of the button. Makoto can reach the top side of the screen with one jump, and Akiko and Genzoh can hover while slowly descending for a few seconds. All Espers except Genzoh use a hammer to whack enemies into oblivion; Genzoh uses a gnarly walking rod. Players control hammer attacks with the A button, of course. These are close range weapons, with their range depending on the character’s “attack” attribute/Facet, and the power-up level reached in a stage. Characters hover when players hold the B button, but can also remain still by quickly “spamming” hammer attacks.
The five Espers have a simple mission: navigate the maze-like Stages, destroy/kill spawning poltergeist/youkai, and reach Satan’s room to destroy the bad guy to bit. Players can however break food containers or treasure chests that appear in each room, as they progress. Players may ignore all food/score items and power-ups along the way, but this is inconvenient. Players obtain a new power-up every seven food items they collect, including hammer/jump power multipliers, score multipliers, “EXTRA” letters awarding extra lives, and a few other items. Players start with only Naoto, the “young boy/shōnen” Esper, and Akiko, the “young girl/shōjo” Esper, at their disposal. Players must collect icons activating Bunta the “fat but strong” Esper, Makoto the “lanky and fast” Esper, and Genzoh the “old sage (and probably pervy)” Esper. Players can change Esper when their character enters phone booths and wait a few seconds to swap characters, probably via teleportation.
Players can certainly clear a stage without ever collecting items. To this end, players must find ways to overcome certain sections without using the section-specific characters and to destroy the Satan’s statues/avatara in a finite amount of time. Each stage starts with two minutes of stage time, but players can collect time items in treasure chests and obtain 30 extra seconds when passing though section gates. Luckily, players can clear even the most complex sections and passages by knocking down Zara, the witch who hovers around the screen in seemingly random movements. If players can hit Zara, the Esper will steal her broom, all enemies will freeze on screen, and the temporarily invincible Esper can move on the broom while hammering everything at maximum power level. The alternative is to collect all food and treasure items, activate all Espers, and in general engage with Stages’ enemies and opportunities successfully.
The game’s score mechanics and Stage design/layout interweave in rather complex manners; we however discuss these manners once we discuss difficulty. First, however, let us address the audio-visual Facets. The game has a strong anime/manga-inspired design typical of the late shōwa-era (i.e. late 1970s/early 1980s) period. The five Espers have highly stereotypical looks representing their powers: for instance, Bunta is the fat but strong guy. Poltergeist/Youkai enemies appear as objects with eyes and possibly mouths hinting at caricatural looks. Stages all feature relatively simple palettes and designs with intense, fluorescent-like colours. Stages settings include traditional Japanese rowhouses, abandoned factories and a classical haunted castle on a cliff as the final stage. Sprites are rather small but fluidly animated and with an obvious 1980s’ manga appeal. If Jaleco’s City Connection is possibly an early source of visual inspiration for the Synthwave aesthetics, Psychic 5 is an early apotheosis of this sensibility.
The OST by Shinichi Sakamoto combines this sensibility with an approach based on Leitmotifs. There are no Stage themes except for the recurring boss battle, an epic theme summoning a clash of wills and forces. Conversely, the Espers have each their own theme, which offers a J-pop take to their style and personality/characteristics. Naoto’s theme tries to be dramatic and underline the character’s “hero” persona. Akiko’s theme is a bubbly, catchy tune for girls; Bunta’s theme is a hard-rock anthem for the “strong man”. Sound effects have an unsurprising anime-like flavour: listen carefully to Zara’s falling effect and you might even recognise the original sample. The “continue screen” short theme is perhaps one of the coolest soundbites in an 1980s game, in its nearly indescribable quirky style vaguely resembling Yellow Magic Orchestra’s more obscure output . Overall, Psychic 5 embodies the 1970s/1980s “weird anime style” in videogames at its finest.
By this point of the squib, we are ready to tackle the complex topic of difficulty by discussing the Facets composing this difficulty. I believe that the basic Facets composing this game’s difficulty include the game mechanics, the Stages layout/design, and how these two Facets interact once players begin to play for score. Let us proceed in this order, thus. Game mechanics present a moderate challenge as far as players practice them with each of the various characters. Free-floating jumps may require some time for mastering, but follow intuitive mechanics. The ranges of the attacking weapons also require some practice, though intuitive. Players should then get a quick grasp of how to take down Zara and use the broom, when useful. Basic mechanics thus tend to be relatively immediate, especially if players have experienced variants of these mechanics in more modern games.
Stage design/layout is also a relatively simple Facet of the game. The first four stages work in such a way that players can move through easier sections and collect food items with little or no effort. In this way, players can activate extend letters with a relatively high frequence (one every seven items). Players must look up in the right corner of the screen and see which items are available in the rotating item inventory. Players obtain an extra life when they collect the five “EXTRA” letters. Be sure to open the treasure chests when the right letter appears, or when a desired power-up appears. Aside extends, food items trigger the other power ups: collecting them is always a good option, though they are never necessary to complete a stage. Ideally, players can obtain up to one extend per stage, so collecting food items is generally a wise choice.
From Stage one to Stage four, going through Stages and collecting items is a relatively straightforward task. Stages three and four have some sections in which players must destroy walls and platforms to reveal secret bonuses and items, but players can safely bypass these sections. For instance, the lower left section in Stage three has multiple destroyable walls and secret items, but players can quickly move through this section to avoid tight fights with the poltergeists/Youkai. From Stage five onwards, however, players must learn how to survive some key sections, usually by learning exactly how to jump over tricky obstacles or by collecting food items in mostly dangerous situations. From Stage five onwards, collecting items becomes increasingly challenging, and thus obtaining extra lives and powerful is more difficult: some jumps are also rather tricky. Mastering food/item collection and jumps in these Stages are thus surmountable obstacles towards the 1-CC.
If the first two Facets may appear rather standard in their nature, the third interactional Facet features a tricky set of properties, due to its connection to the scoring system. I will be astonishingly lazy and ask readers to go through this guide, if they wish to study all the subtleties of the scoring system. Here I briefly summarise the gist of this system for my lazier readers, instead. Some bonuses presuppose that players collect them without making mistakes across stages: some scoring strategies involve multi-stage planning and rather careful execution. For instance, collecting the five “secret bonus” items hinges on players meeting stage-specific conditions to reveal them. Unless players collect them in the right order, their value remains at the initial 10k points. Overall, most score-driven mechanics require players do plan approaches stages and sections so that they can meet the requirements to trigger secret/special but ultimately optional bonuses.
Overall, I suggest that the difficulty score for Psychic 5 works as follows. I propose that the three Facets receive 15, 15 and 20 points respectively (game mechanics, Stage design/layout, their interaction). Game mechanics receive 6/15 points, Stage layout/design 9/15 points, and their interaction 15/20 points. Please however consider that all score-driven mechanics are optional: the final score applies only if players wish to reach top-level scores. The game therefore reaches 15/50 points of difficulty for “simple” 1-CC’s, and 30/50 for score-driven 1-CC’s. Psychic 5 is thus a mid-tier challenge for intermediate players and can reach the level of top-tier challenge for expert players. This flexibility anticipated modern arcade games in their approach to difficulty and complexity, though platformers with highly complex score systems (e.g. Rainbow Islands) co-existed with this title. Players can thus gauge and decide on how to approach their 1-CC according to their own skills.
Now that we have discussed the Facet of difficulty, we can move to the concluding stanza involving my experiences. Xenny is having a few quiet ones with the lads from Xenny’s hive, so it is all good, folks. It is 1987 or perhaps 1988: my memories of meeting this game for the first time are so hazy, that they might be the result of some alien evil force manipulating my past remembrances. I am certain that I am at the big arcade with the many Sega and Taito cabs, and that Galivan is one game I have tried during this first visit to the arcade. By this rather vaguely remembered time in the past, my father still has not developed a grudge towards my uncle, in regards to its game policies. I do know that this arcade has cool games, though my uncle’s arcade is better.
I see this game in one corner of the arcade’s bigger, underground room that can only be described as the “dark pit” corner. The owners of this arcade do not seem exactly tech savvy, so they place all old cabs and unpopular games in one corner that reeks of mould, strange animals’ droppings, and substances that are probably best left undescribed. I remember that the first time I see this game is when some relatively tall and lanky older kid is easily completing the last few stages. The excitable kid that I am in 1987 is just mesmerised at seeing this display of bravura on a game that seems highly complicated and yet feverishly cool. I am growing up by also watching re-runs of Carletto/kabutsu-kun and new magical girl/idol sensation Creamy mami. This game looks like it allows players to control Japanese cartoon characters.
When the older kid completes the game, I clap in excitement and the kid just laughs, telling me that now I can try out the game. I am almost too nervous to insert the coin in the cab, and I need to sit on a stool to reach the controls. My father is nearby, but a few other players do raise their eyebrows. The kid gives me a brief explanation of how the game works, and starts guiding me during my first credit. Hammer the enemies, get the jumping timing right, learn to control hovering: all simple concepts on paper, but my kid version of the 1987 fails at them in some absurdly simple ways. After four credits of failed attempts, I give up in frustration. The older kid laughs hard, inserts a coin, and guides me through his play, which ends again in a victory again the “devil”.
Over the next few weeks, I meet the older kid a few times, and he is quite patient enough to explain me how to play the game a few dozen times. As a pupil I suck, since I keep doing basic mistakes like not holding the button when jumping, using the hammer too early or too late, and so on. This is why I prefer the shooting games: there are no jumps involved and victory arrives with the joystick and shooting buttons, mostly. Still, the older kid shows saint-like level of patience, which I repay in my own manner. Over the course of a few weeks or a few months, I manage to slowly progress towards the end of the fourth boss. I carefully avoid exploring levels, as any jump that involves a bit of coordination remains anathema to my skills. This game remains impenetrable, to my 1987 (1988? 1989?) self.
It is now 2000 and I am wandering in the labyrinthine meanders of my MAME gap year. I discover this game again once I go through Jaleco’s output that is currently in this emulator’s list. Psychic 5 is a faint memory that becomes a fiery passion: I develop the habit of playing this game with an intense fervour late at night. Some think that my “hardcore” “graveyard shift” past-times involve pornographic explorations: I am sure that this type of hardcore pastime is steamier and kinkier. Now that I am 20 and I can jump in videogames, the game becomes a pleasant challenge. Two weeks or so after clearing Side Arms, I also clear this game. I then repeat the feat again in different cities and years. With a bit of warm-up practice, I can now 1-CC this game and enter its absurdist and zany world at once and with delight.
Summing up: Psychic 5 is multi-directional TATE platform that combines a “recursively retro” design with simple but elegant platform mechanics and a brilliant score system. Players take up the mantle of five Espers straight out of a late 1970s manga and play a late 1980s game in which they must kill The Evil Satan and its minions. The game offers an interesting take also on the OST, as each character has its own theme song, and provides a smoothly increasing but not excessive difficulty level. Playing the game for score can however provide a more formidable challenge, as expert players need to flex their gaming muscles intensely to achieve the 1-CC and obtain top scores. Ultimately, Psychic 5 is a classic little gem of a game that every well-rounded player would like to have in their 1-CC portfolio. The adorable retro style should also attract players with a refined sense of humour, too.
(2818 words/7.1 pages, times new roman size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; this game has possibly the coolest continue theme ever, don’t you think? The general feeling I always had and still have with Psychic 5 is that programmers were already chasing times and glories past of manga/anime worlds. I am lucky enough to have seen a few really “old school” anime (e.g.Kabutsu-kun), so whenever I played this game, I could really appreciate the rather peculiar visual design. Manga-style games in the 1980s were really the province of smaller companies; this was also a reason I liked Jaleco. I also admit that I liked Ginga Ninkyuden for the same reason, and let us not forget City Connection and Momoko 120%. OK, I know, this was an NMK game but my point is still valid, isn’t it?).
Psychic 5 (NMK/Jaleco, 1987) is a multi-directional (ro)TATE scrolling platform game from NMK with distribution by Jaleco. The game pits five Espers with different physical and ψ (psi) powers against The Evil Satan. The quintet must enter eight mansions in which the Satan dwells and has infested with hundreds of malignant Yōkai/Poltergeists. Armed with hammers and rods of mystical power, the five heroes are the only bastion of hope against the satanic and poltergeist-y infestation. Players thus must move through eight stages and carve their way to The Evil Satan’s room, hammering Satan’s stony butt into oblivion. The game is notable for offering a free-form/multi-directional approach to platforming action, tons of score mechanics and secrets, and tons of zany, shōwa-era humour. The goal of this squib is to convince my readers that they must try this game at least once, in their lives.
Trying to define a specific context for this game may be tricky, and the wiki entry covers the historical background regarding NMK in some detail. The specific socio-cultural Facet that I wish to discuss in this squib pertains to platform games from 1987, to offer my readers a “feeling” of the evolution of this genre. In 1987, Taito released Rastan/Rastan Saga I and Capcom released Black Tiger, Tiger Road and Bionic Commando. These games offered multi-directional approaches to action/platform games that capitalised on Namco’s original design insight from Dragon Buster and, to a lesser extent, Sega’s Teddy Boy Blues. Players can move freely in this game, as stages extend across different screens: insofar they meet the requirements to clear a stage, they can approach the game as they wish. Psychic 5 applies this simple concept in a direct but at times subtly nuanced and wacky manner, starting from the underlying plot.
Psychic 5 pits a team of five Espers, with a design straight out of a 1970s-style shōnen manga, against “The Evil Satan” and its henchwoman, the witch Zara. These two creatures of evil have been infesting various mansions in highly improbable locations and have brought all the mansions’ objects to life, exploiting their resentment against humans. Some undefined entity tells the five Espers to investigate eight such cases, and therefore defeat the diabolic duo for the last time. The five Espers thus start a gruesome battle that sees them whacking anthropomorphic objects that qualify as various types of poltergeist or yōkai or both, depending on which cultural references you prefer. Once the Espers win all eight battles and banish Zara and The Evil Satan, the credits over, suggesting that it was all some kind of zany movie. Psychic 5 thus has a vaguely meta-fictional and certainly surreal setting.
The game’s mechanics build on this surreal setting and premise in an equally groovy manner. Players control the five Espers (Naoto, Akita, Bunta, Makoto and Kenzo) via the joystick and can move them in eight directions. The B button control jumps, which increase in height and duration via prolonged pressure of the button. Makoto can reach the top side of the screen with one jump, and Akiko and Genzoh can hover while slowly descending for a few seconds. All Espers except Genzoh use a hammer to whack enemies into oblivion; Genzoh uses a gnarly walking rod. Players control hammer attacks with the A button, of course. These are close range weapons, with their range depending on the character’s “attack” attribute/Facet, and the power-up level reached in a stage. Characters hover when players hold the B button, but can also remain still by quickly “spamming” hammer attacks.
The five Espers have a simple mission: navigate the maze-like Stages, destroy/kill spawning poltergeist/youkai, and reach Satan’s room to destroy the bad guy to bit. Players can however break food containers or treasure chests that appear in each room, as they progress. Players may ignore all food/score items and power-ups along the way, but this is inconvenient. Players obtain a new power-up every seven food items they collect, including hammer/jump power multipliers, score multipliers, “EXTRA” letters awarding extra lives, and a few other items. Players start with only Naoto, the “young boy/shōnen” Esper, and Akiko, the “young girl/shōjo” Esper, at their disposal. Players must collect icons activating Bunta the “fat but strong” Esper, Makoto the “lanky and fast” Esper, and Genzoh the “old sage (and probably pervy)” Esper. Players can change Esper when their character enters phone booths and wait a few seconds to swap characters, probably via teleportation.
Players can certainly clear a stage without ever collecting items. To this end, players must find ways to overcome certain sections without using the section-specific characters and to destroy the Satan’s statues/avatara in a finite amount of time. Each stage starts with two minutes of stage time, but players can collect time items in treasure chests and obtain 30 extra seconds when passing though section gates. Luckily, players can clear even the most complex sections and passages by knocking down Zara, the witch who hovers around the screen in seemingly random movements. If players can hit Zara, the Esper will steal her broom, all enemies will freeze on screen, and the temporarily invincible Esper can move on the broom while hammering everything at maximum power level. The alternative is to collect all food and treasure items, activate all Espers, and in general engage with Stages’ enemies and opportunities successfully.
The game’s score mechanics and Stage design/layout interweave in rather complex manners; we however discuss these manners once we discuss difficulty. First, however, let us address the audio-visual Facets. The game has a strong anime/manga-inspired design typical of the late shōwa-era (i.e. late 1970s/early 1980s) period. The five Espers have highly stereotypical looks representing their powers: for instance, Bunta is the fat but strong guy. Poltergeist/Youkai enemies appear as objects with eyes and possibly mouths hinting at caricatural looks. Stages all feature relatively simple palettes and designs with intense, fluorescent-like colours. Stages settings include traditional Japanese rowhouses, abandoned factories and a classical haunted castle on a cliff as the final stage. Sprites are rather small but fluidly animated and with an obvious 1980s’ manga appeal. If Jaleco’s City Connection is possibly an early source of visual inspiration for the Synthwave aesthetics, Psychic 5 is an early apotheosis of this sensibility.
The OST by Shinichi Sakamoto combines this sensibility with an approach based on Leitmotifs. There are no Stage themes except for the recurring boss battle, an epic theme summoning a clash of wills and forces. Conversely, the Espers have each their own theme, which offers a J-pop take to their style and personality/characteristics. Naoto’s theme tries to be dramatic and underline the character’s “hero” persona. Akiko’s theme is a bubbly, catchy tune for girls; Bunta’s theme is a hard-rock anthem for the “strong man”. Sound effects have an unsurprising anime-like flavour: listen carefully to Zara’s falling effect and you might even recognise the original sample. The “continue screen” short theme is perhaps one of the coolest soundbites in an 1980s game, in its nearly indescribable quirky style vaguely resembling Yellow Magic Orchestra’s more obscure output . Overall, Psychic 5 embodies the 1970s/1980s “weird anime style” in videogames at its finest.
By this point of the squib, we are ready to tackle the complex topic of difficulty by discussing the Facets composing this difficulty. I believe that the basic Facets composing this game’s difficulty include the game mechanics, the Stages layout/design, and how these two Facets interact once players begin to play for score. Let us proceed in this order, thus. Game mechanics present a moderate challenge as far as players practice them with each of the various characters. Free-floating jumps may require some time for mastering, but follow intuitive mechanics. The ranges of the attacking weapons also require some practice, though intuitive. Players should then get a quick grasp of how to take down Zara and use the broom, when useful. Basic mechanics thus tend to be relatively immediate, especially if players have experienced variants of these mechanics in more modern games.
Stage design/layout is also a relatively simple Facet of the game. The first four stages work in such a way that players can move through easier sections and collect food items with little or no effort. In this way, players can activate extend letters with a relatively high frequence (one every seven items). Players must look up in the right corner of the screen and see which items are available in the rotating item inventory. Players obtain an extra life when they collect the five “EXTRA” letters. Be sure to open the treasure chests when the right letter appears, or when a desired power-up appears. Aside extends, food items trigger the other power ups: collecting them is always a good option, though they are never necessary to complete a stage. Ideally, players can obtain up to one extend per stage, so collecting food items is generally a wise choice.
From Stage one to Stage four, going through Stages and collecting items is a relatively straightforward task. Stages three and four have some sections in which players must destroy walls and platforms to reveal secret bonuses and items, but players can safely bypass these sections. For instance, the lower left section in Stage three has multiple destroyable walls and secret items, but players can quickly move through this section to avoid tight fights with the poltergeists/Youkai. From Stage five onwards, however, players must learn how to survive some key sections, usually by learning exactly how to jump over tricky obstacles or by collecting food items in mostly dangerous situations. From Stage five onwards, collecting items becomes increasingly challenging, and thus obtaining extra lives and powerful is more difficult: some jumps are also rather tricky. Mastering food/item collection and jumps in these Stages are thus surmountable obstacles towards the 1-CC.
If the first two Facets may appear rather standard in their nature, the third interactional Facet features a tricky set of properties, due to its connection to the scoring system. I will be astonishingly lazy and ask readers to go through this guide, if they wish to study all the subtleties of the scoring system. Here I briefly summarise the gist of this system for my lazier readers, instead. Some bonuses presuppose that players collect them without making mistakes across stages: some scoring strategies involve multi-stage planning and rather careful execution. For instance, collecting the five “secret bonus” items hinges on players meeting stage-specific conditions to reveal them. Unless players collect them in the right order, their value remains at the initial 10k points. Overall, most score-driven mechanics require players do plan approaches stages and sections so that they can meet the requirements to trigger secret/special but ultimately optional bonuses.
Overall, I suggest that the difficulty score for Psychic 5 works as follows. I propose that the three Facets receive 15, 15 and 20 points respectively (game mechanics, Stage design/layout, their interaction). Game mechanics receive 6/15 points, Stage layout/design 9/15 points, and their interaction 15/20 points. Please however consider that all score-driven mechanics are optional: the final score applies only if players wish to reach top-level scores. The game therefore reaches 15/50 points of difficulty for “simple” 1-CC’s, and 30/50 for score-driven 1-CC’s. Psychic 5 is thus a mid-tier challenge for intermediate players and can reach the level of top-tier challenge for expert players. This flexibility anticipated modern arcade games in their approach to difficulty and complexity, though platformers with highly complex score systems (e.g. Rainbow Islands) co-existed with this title. Players can thus gauge and decide on how to approach their 1-CC according to their own skills.
Now that we have discussed the Facet of difficulty, we can move to the concluding stanza involving my experiences. Xenny is having a few quiet ones with the lads from Xenny’s hive, so it is all good, folks. It is 1987 or perhaps 1988: my memories of meeting this game for the first time are so hazy, that they might be the result of some alien evil force manipulating my past remembrances. I am certain that I am at the big arcade with the many Sega and Taito cabs, and that Galivan is one game I have tried during this first visit to the arcade. By this rather vaguely remembered time in the past, my father still has not developed a grudge towards my uncle, in regards to its game policies. I do know that this arcade has cool games, though my uncle’s arcade is better.
I see this game in one corner of the arcade’s bigger, underground room that can only be described as the “dark pit” corner. The owners of this arcade do not seem exactly tech savvy, so they place all old cabs and unpopular games in one corner that reeks of mould, strange animals’ droppings, and substances that are probably best left undescribed. I remember that the first time I see this game is when some relatively tall and lanky older kid is easily completing the last few stages. The excitable kid that I am in 1987 is just mesmerised at seeing this display of bravura on a game that seems highly complicated and yet feverishly cool. I am growing up by also watching re-runs of Carletto/kabutsu-kun and new magical girl/idol sensation Creamy mami. This game looks like it allows players to control Japanese cartoon characters.
When the older kid completes the game, I clap in excitement and the kid just laughs, telling me that now I can try out the game. I am almost too nervous to insert the coin in the cab, and I need to sit on a stool to reach the controls. My father is nearby, but a few other players do raise their eyebrows. The kid gives me a brief explanation of how the game works, and starts guiding me during my first credit. Hammer the enemies, get the jumping timing right, learn to control hovering: all simple concepts on paper, but my kid version of the 1987 fails at them in some absurdly simple ways. After four credits of failed attempts, I give up in frustration. The older kid laughs hard, inserts a coin, and guides me through his play, which ends again in a victory again the “devil”.
Over the next few weeks, I meet the older kid a few times, and he is quite patient enough to explain me how to play the game a few dozen times. As a pupil I suck, since I keep doing basic mistakes like not holding the button when jumping, using the hammer too early or too late, and so on. This is why I prefer the shooting games: there are no jumps involved and victory arrives with the joystick and shooting buttons, mostly. Still, the older kid shows saint-like level of patience, which I repay in my own manner. Over the course of a few weeks or a few months, I manage to slowly progress towards the end of the fourth boss. I carefully avoid exploring levels, as any jump that involves a bit of coordination remains anathema to my skills. This game remains impenetrable, to my 1987 (1988? 1989?) self.
It is now 2000 and I am wandering in the labyrinthine meanders of my MAME gap year. I discover this game again once I go through Jaleco’s output that is currently in this emulator’s list. Psychic 5 is a faint memory that becomes a fiery passion: I develop the habit of playing this game with an intense fervour late at night. Some think that my “hardcore” “graveyard shift” past-times involve pornographic explorations: I am sure that this type of hardcore pastime is steamier and kinkier. Now that I am 20 and I can jump in videogames, the game becomes a pleasant challenge. Two weeks or so after clearing Side Arms, I also clear this game. I then repeat the feat again in different cities and years. With a bit of warm-up practice, I can now 1-CC this game and enter its absurdist and zany world at once and with delight.
Summing up: Psychic 5 is multi-directional TATE platform that combines a “recursively retro” design with simple but elegant platform mechanics and a brilliant score system. Players take up the mantle of five Espers straight out of a late 1970s manga and play a late 1980s game in which they must kill The Evil Satan and its minions. The game offers an interesting take also on the OST, as each character has its own theme song, and provides a smoothly increasing but not excessive difficulty level. Playing the game for score can however provide a more formidable challenge, as expert players need to flex their gaming muscles intensely to achieve the 1-CC and obtain top scores. Ultimately, Psychic 5 is a classic little gem of a game that every well-rounded player would like to have in their 1-CC portfolio. The adorable retro style should also attract players with a refined sense of humour, too.
(2818 words/7.1 pages, times new roman size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; this game has possibly the coolest continue theme ever, don’t you think? The general feeling I always had and still have with Psychic 5 is that programmers were already chasing times and glories past of manga/anime worlds. I am lucky enough to have seen a few really “old school” anime (e.g.Kabutsu-kun), so whenever I played this game, I could really appreciate the rather peculiar visual design. Manga-style games in the 1980s were really the province of smaller companies; this was also a reason I liked Jaleco. I also admit that I liked Ginga Ninkyuden for the same reason, and let us not forget City Connection and Momoko 120%. OK, I know, this was an NMK game but my point is still valid, isn’t it?).
Last edited by Randorama on Tue Apr 29, 2025 3:58 am, edited 2 times in total.
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
Master of Weapon (Taito, 1989)
We continue with a squib focusing on one of Taito’s perhaps more obscure and maybe even maligned shmups: Master of Weapon. Some of my readers may know this game via its Taito Memories PS2 port or perhaps the PS4/Switch Arcade Archives port. A port to the MegaDrive also exists, though its quality is not so brilliant. The game is probably one of Taito’s lesser-known shmups, even if the developers who created the legendary Rayforce ultimately wanted to create a sequel to this title. Let us also consider that the game recycles game mechanics and fonts from Taito’sTokyo/Scramble Formation, and readers might understand its role within Taito’s legacy of shmups. Let us proceed with the squib:
Master of Weapon (Taito, 1989) is a lesser-known (ro)TATE shmup with a post-apocalyptic setting, interesting game and scoring mechanics, and a rather brooding OST. The game chronicles the adventures of “Yukiwo”, a young man who is escaping from prison after Japan becomes a brutal dictatorship, after a nuclear holocaust obliterates most of the planet. The game is notable for being difficult often in unbalanced or poorly designed manners, and for having a triggering narrative event on September, 11th, of year 199X. It also features an OST that veers into creepy tones by its ending themes, even if starts with an almost cheerful theme. Add some bosses looking like flying heads of Greek statues, and a recipe for a genuinely weird shmup is ready. The goal of this squib is to convince my readers that the game provides an interesting and educative shmup experience, if only because of its “unfair” difficulty.
For this title, it is useful to concentrate the discussion of the context of release to Taito’s final output of the 1980s, plus some connections to earlier releases. Namco’s Xevious in 1983, plus 1987’s Dragon Spirit and Nichibutsu’s Terra Cresta, among other shmups, proved that “dual plane” shmups were viable. That is, players appreciated shooting enemies on the plane of players’ ships and the background plane scrolling below the ship. Taito entered this micro-genre via their 1986’s Tokyo/Scramble Formation, and offered an interesting take on the genre. Taito’s main shmup release for 1989 was however Darius II, a game that would go on to become a legend of the genre together with rail shooter Night Striker. Taito also published Toaplan’s Zero Wing, Hellfire, and Twin Hawk solid if lesser celebrated titles from this company. Master of Weapon thus acted as the other Taito’s in-house shmup “intermediate level” production.
The game’s plot is perhaps notorious among the fans. In 199X, the 11th of September, a nuclear war explodes and destroys more than 90% of the planet. In a week, the world because a nightmarish radioactive hell. Somehow, Japan holds a semblance of stability as a ruthless dictatorship takes control and steers the country in the new wasteland. At the helm of this dictatorship, however, there is a half-organic, half cybernetic and spider-looking AI plotting to completely enslave survivors. Helping this AI are other AI’s appearing as giant marble busts of divinities from Greek mythology and acting as the military’s field generals. In 200X Yukiwo Ishikawa, a young boy, escapes from one prison and decides to battle against military forces, mutants, monsters, and the renegade AI’s. The world may end up in a final bang without the AI’s guidance, but Yukiwo prefers short-lived liberty to eternal slavery.
The game’s plot certainly melts together various sub-genres of S(cience)F(iction), like post-apocalyptic, dystopian and a dash of cyberpunk, too. At the Facet of game mechanics, the game also includes some peculiar game choices. Players control Yukiwo’s ship in eight directions via the joystick; The A button control the main shot, and the B button controls the secondary attack. Players can collect up to four “S(peed)” power ups and “F(ire)” power ups, increasing the fire power from one frontal stream to five wide-shot bullets. There are four secondary weapons: the default “P(iercing” missile, the “L(aser)” beam, the “W(ide)” energy shot and the “G(uided)” (homing) energy shot. All four weapons can hit land-based enemies appearing in the ship’s crosshairs, but also aerial enemies placed in the virtual line of fire. Secondary weapons have four power levels, restocking at maximum every two seconds, and with power level correlating to damage level and attacking range.
The game has thus rather simple “dual” plane mechanics that fuse two aspects from the virtual predecessor Tokyo. This because land attacks based on secondary weapons operate more as mixed type attacks. Players can however forsake charging and use the basic secondary attack, which is a stream of shots directly hitting land enemies in the crosshairs. Though weak, this attack has the advantage of automatically hitting only land enemies, so that players can instead use the aerial shot to destroy aerial enemies. Players can also collect a “H(ydrogen)” special bomb attack, which wipes out all enemies and bullets on screen when reaching the surface. Notably, players can destroy most of the scenery across Stages via the secondary attacks, and can hit bosses with both attack types. The game thus displays a certain flexibility to the dual plane mechanics that also anticipates its spiritual successor Rayforce.
The game’s mechanics have an immediacy that finds a match also in the aesthetic presentation. The game runs on Taito’s F1 board; Graphics feature a washed-up palette but big, mostly detailed sprites. Post-apocalyptic Tokyo and the surrounding regions come in hues of brown, green, lots of steel grey and other dark colours. Most enemies are retro-futuristic in design, echoing thus Tokyo’s design: Stage five is notable in including a huge bombardier as the main enemy flying in the background. Some enemies, however, are horribly mutated humans and other creatures, to remind players that they are fighting one week after a nuclear holocaust. Bosses, as we have foreshadowed, provide the most peculiar Facet in design. Players fight giant busts purportedly representing Greek gods (e.g. Zeus) that, once destroyed, reveal flying pulsating brains with cybernetic implants. The final boss, the renegade AI, looks like a giant Facehugger hiding in a pitch-black cave.
The bizarre combination of possibly metaphorically designed enemies (remember, Yukiwo is fighting against authoritarian AI’s) combines with a matching soundtrack. The OST is highly representative of Zuntata’s external collaborator(s) Pinch Punch and their style. The game opens with an Desertion for the short Stage one (“Act I”, in-game) creating a sense of urgency. Stage two’s Freedom offers a brighter theme that Stage three and four’s dramatic Distortion/Wipe Out. Stages five, six’s Cry and Implosion have a fast, oppressive tempo suggesting that Yukiwo’s battle may be doomed, after all. The rather dated 8-bit style sound effects also add to this atmosphere via its metallic sounds. Overall, Master of Weapon features a design that introduces players to a brooding world in which Yukiwo’s battle for freedom emerges as a lost cause. It thus anticipates the majestically dark atmospheres of Taito’s Metal Black and Rayforce, and Taito/UPL’s Acrobat Mission.
We are now ready to discuss the game difficulty that, in my opinion, stems from three Facets: the game mechanics, Stage design/layout, and rank. I propose to partition the 50 total points into 20, 20 and 10 points per Facet, respectively, and to start our discussion from the third Facet. The game has a simple form of “survival rank”: the longer players survive, the faster bullets become. Enemies do not seem to have more H(it)P(point)s as rank increases, but some enemies’ movement seems to increase with rank. If players reach Stage six on one life, bullets’ speed becomes a constant source of threat: dodging point-blanking enemies is next to impossible. The game mechanics provide a similarly simple set of challenges. Players must master the use of secondary weapons to kill enemies on both planes: using the basic secondary shot does not suffice to destroy all enemies in time.
Furthermore, players must master Yukiwo’s ship’s movement at maximal speed, as lower speeds render the ship a near-sitting target. When losing a life, players must learn to survive at least one minute before the game releases new F power-ups; multiple successive deaths are a serious risk, in this game. Stage design/layout, the second Facet, offers another considerable contribution to the overall difficulty. Stage one is a short preamble, but Stages two to six are relatively long Stages (around four minutes) with various mid-bosses and tricky sections. Boss fights can be relatively short (at most one minute) if players learn how to point-blank the bosses with primary and secondary weapons. In general, though, players must develop good strategies for each stage especially when sniping enemies appear, and must have a firm grasp of how to handle bosses. The final boss offers no challenge: the “Greek AI’s” are veritable bastards.
Overall, I would suggest that the first Facet motivates a 6/20 points of difficulty, as players need to master four secondary weapons, plus quirky main shot, and speed mechanics. Stage design/layout motivates a 10/20 points of difficulty, due to Stage one being an easy preamble. Rank offers a subtle contribution: if players learn to recover from deaths, rank is not a crucial source of difficulty. However, players will find Stage six treacherous once they learn to reach it on the first life, and with four lives in stock (extends are 500k and 1M points). The game thus reaches a minimal score of 17/50 difficulty points if players can handle multiple deaths across stages, but a maximal score of 22/50 points at maximal rank. Basic 1-CC’s are a challenge for top-tier intermediate players; 1-LC’s are the province of low-tier expert players, and rather frustrating experience.
Our progress in this squib has followed a steep pace, so Xenny would probably be delighted to move to the conclusions directly. Dear Xenny: I will be brief with my experiences, trust me. It is summer 1991, and it is quite hot. My uncle has added a few new games, even if by his own admission most of the games are old boards he was able to obtain at bargain price. One is this strange platform game from Toaplan with a strange name, Pipi and Bibis, pervy cutscenes like Kaneko’s Gals Panic and even stranger game mechanics. Pervy games are funny if already naïve: Teen kids can easily get their hands on full-blown porn easily, in Italy. I admit that in 1990, I play these two titles for their mechanics and skip the pervy parts: too “soft”. I also admit that both games generously kick my ass with gusto: too “hard”.
I try out Master of Weapon once I can summon the courage to play a shooter game outside Darius II. Soon in 2025 my readers will now that my 1989 and 1990 are years of shmup ordeal, due to this Taito classic. For now, and for this version of 1990, however, readers need to know that I feel wary of playing another Taito shooting game. I feel that this company has recently gone overboard in setting difficulty levels, even if I admit that Cadash feels like a walk in the park, now that I can finish it every day. Thus, I try a few credits of Master of Weapon and I confirm that my initial fears were right: this game feels irrationally hard, and has tons of traps and sneaky enemies. I also frown when I see the first “Greek” boss: the game’s creators watched too much Saint Seiya.
Somehow, though, I keep playing the game for the next two weeks or so and make the kind of steady progress that I do not expect from myself, with shooters. I slowly but inexorably reach a new Stage or “Act” after each week of dedicated play, and feel that my recent fish-based ordeal has given me better skills at the genre. It is 2005 and I am studying the notion of ”motor skill transfer” during my Master years in Utrecht University for the first time. In 1990, I have however simply an intuition that I am getting better in general, due to the sheer amount of practice in videogames. It is now the first week of August, and I can consistently reach Act V, Cry. I admit it: by this point, I hit a plateau and my holidays at the seaside hinder my progress, too.
In September I am back in my hometown and I resume my battle with this game. Reaching Stage five on one life is hard, and I feel that dying before that might even be better. I stubbornly insist on avoiding deaths at all costs, because I really do not understand how to recover from them. My “purist” attitude seems now a problem, as it takes me a month to reach Act VI, Implosion. The music on the final two stages is by now oppressive with its style, and the game seems interminable. By the end of September, though, I start regularly reaching “Zeus”, the final boss…and then one day I defeat it and reach the true final boss on my last life, and trigger a double knock-out. I die, but the ending credits start anyway. So, Yukiwo seems to win his battle anyway, for the first time.
I play the game for another month or so, collecting various clears on an irregular basis: the game can be maddening difficult, on some days. By this point it is cold and dark, and playing the final two Stages with that song in the background feels exasperating. One day I do finish the game on my first life and achieve a very satisfying run. I am somewhat happy to have helped Yukiwo in his battle, but I do not want to play this game ever again. My uncle, in his impeccably creepiest grin, tells me that Yukiwo will never survive that kind of radioactive world. He is going to end up like those creatures in Cronache del Dopobomba, a terrifying fumetto that my father forbids me from reading. I have not played this game “seriously” ever again, but I am happy that I have written this squib, dear Yukiwo.
Let us wrap up. Master of Weapon is a Taito TATE shmup released in 1989 that features a post-apocalyptic setting in which a young boy, Yukiwo, fights against an evil AI-driven dictatorship. The game features a dual plane game system in the line of Taito’s earlier release Tokyo but includes secondary weapons that can operate on both attack planes. The game is notable also for implementing other some 2.5D effects, huge sprites as Stage five/Act V’s flying carrier, and an OST that veers into paranoid territory by the game’s end. The game is notable for featuring a simple but challenging survival rank system, a moderately intense 1-CC challenge, and fast-paced if sometimes rather frustrating action. Players who wish to challenge themselves in 1-CC’ing a shmup that certainly has shortcomings in its mechanics but also provides a remarkably peculiar if brooding ambience can certainly enjoy Master of Weapon.
(2363 words or 5.9 pages, times new roman, size 12, single space; usual disclaimers apply; the game also has a prototype version simply called Yukiwo in MAME in which Yukiwo himself rides on some kind of flying bike. In the main game, trigger it with a dipswitch setting. I am not sure on how Yukiwo can survive the purported vastly irradiated and radioactive Tokyo of the game, however. I do remember other kids watching me playing this game and wondering how I could actually stand all the sniping cheap shots and the final two themes. One guy also conjectured that Cry/Implosion was the theme that drove programmers made and forced them to suicide. The final boss, according to him, was the revenant form of these programmers fused into a super-intelligent organism. Yes, as kids we had highly creative and impressionable imagination. We all agreed that the ending was really, really creepy: How can Yukiwo survive his newfound freedom?).
Master of Weapon (Taito, 1989) is a lesser-known (ro)TATE shmup with a post-apocalyptic setting, interesting game and scoring mechanics, and a rather brooding OST. The game chronicles the adventures of “Yukiwo”, a young man who is escaping from prison after Japan becomes a brutal dictatorship, after a nuclear holocaust obliterates most of the planet. The game is notable for being difficult often in unbalanced or poorly designed manners, and for having a triggering narrative event on September, 11th, of year 199X. It also features an OST that veers into creepy tones by its ending themes, even if starts with an almost cheerful theme. Add some bosses looking like flying heads of Greek statues, and a recipe for a genuinely weird shmup is ready. The goal of this squib is to convince my readers that the game provides an interesting and educative shmup experience, if only because of its “unfair” difficulty.
For this title, it is useful to concentrate the discussion of the context of release to Taito’s final output of the 1980s, plus some connections to earlier releases. Namco’s Xevious in 1983, plus 1987’s Dragon Spirit and Nichibutsu’s Terra Cresta, among other shmups, proved that “dual plane” shmups were viable. That is, players appreciated shooting enemies on the plane of players’ ships and the background plane scrolling below the ship. Taito entered this micro-genre via their 1986’s Tokyo/Scramble Formation, and offered an interesting take on the genre. Taito’s main shmup release for 1989 was however Darius II, a game that would go on to become a legend of the genre together with rail shooter Night Striker. Taito also published Toaplan’s Zero Wing, Hellfire, and Twin Hawk solid if lesser celebrated titles from this company. Master of Weapon thus acted as the other Taito’s in-house shmup “intermediate level” production.
The game’s plot is perhaps notorious among the fans. In 199X, the 11th of September, a nuclear war explodes and destroys more than 90% of the planet. In a week, the world because a nightmarish radioactive hell. Somehow, Japan holds a semblance of stability as a ruthless dictatorship takes control and steers the country in the new wasteland. At the helm of this dictatorship, however, there is a half-organic, half cybernetic and spider-looking AI plotting to completely enslave survivors. Helping this AI are other AI’s appearing as giant marble busts of divinities from Greek mythology and acting as the military’s field generals. In 200X Yukiwo Ishikawa, a young boy, escapes from one prison and decides to battle against military forces, mutants, monsters, and the renegade AI’s. The world may end up in a final bang without the AI’s guidance, but Yukiwo prefers short-lived liberty to eternal slavery.
The game’s plot certainly melts together various sub-genres of S(cience)F(iction), like post-apocalyptic, dystopian and a dash of cyberpunk, too. At the Facet of game mechanics, the game also includes some peculiar game choices. Players control Yukiwo’s ship in eight directions via the joystick; The A button control the main shot, and the B button controls the secondary attack. Players can collect up to four “S(peed)” power ups and “F(ire)” power ups, increasing the fire power from one frontal stream to five wide-shot bullets. There are four secondary weapons: the default “P(iercing” missile, the “L(aser)” beam, the “W(ide)” energy shot and the “G(uided)” (homing) energy shot. All four weapons can hit land-based enemies appearing in the ship’s crosshairs, but also aerial enemies placed in the virtual line of fire. Secondary weapons have four power levels, restocking at maximum every two seconds, and with power level correlating to damage level and attacking range.
The game has thus rather simple “dual” plane mechanics that fuse two aspects from the virtual predecessor Tokyo. This because land attacks based on secondary weapons operate more as mixed type attacks. Players can however forsake charging and use the basic secondary attack, which is a stream of shots directly hitting land enemies in the crosshairs. Though weak, this attack has the advantage of automatically hitting only land enemies, so that players can instead use the aerial shot to destroy aerial enemies. Players can also collect a “H(ydrogen)” special bomb attack, which wipes out all enemies and bullets on screen when reaching the surface. Notably, players can destroy most of the scenery across Stages via the secondary attacks, and can hit bosses with both attack types. The game thus displays a certain flexibility to the dual plane mechanics that also anticipates its spiritual successor Rayforce.
The game’s mechanics have an immediacy that finds a match also in the aesthetic presentation. The game runs on Taito’s F1 board; Graphics feature a washed-up palette but big, mostly detailed sprites. Post-apocalyptic Tokyo and the surrounding regions come in hues of brown, green, lots of steel grey and other dark colours. Most enemies are retro-futuristic in design, echoing thus Tokyo’s design: Stage five is notable in including a huge bombardier as the main enemy flying in the background. Some enemies, however, are horribly mutated humans and other creatures, to remind players that they are fighting one week after a nuclear holocaust. Bosses, as we have foreshadowed, provide the most peculiar Facet in design. Players fight giant busts purportedly representing Greek gods (e.g. Zeus) that, once destroyed, reveal flying pulsating brains with cybernetic implants. The final boss, the renegade AI, looks like a giant Facehugger hiding in a pitch-black cave.
The bizarre combination of possibly metaphorically designed enemies (remember, Yukiwo is fighting against authoritarian AI’s) combines with a matching soundtrack. The OST is highly representative of Zuntata’s external collaborator(s) Pinch Punch and their style. The game opens with an Desertion for the short Stage one (“Act I”, in-game) creating a sense of urgency. Stage two’s Freedom offers a brighter theme that Stage three and four’s dramatic Distortion/Wipe Out. Stages five, six’s Cry and Implosion have a fast, oppressive tempo suggesting that Yukiwo’s battle may be doomed, after all. The rather dated 8-bit style sound effects also add to this atmosphere via its metallic sounds. Overall, Master of Weapon features a design that introduces players to a brooding world in which Yukiwo’s battle for freedom emerges as a lost cause. It thus anticipates the majestically dark atmospheres of Taito’s Metal Black and Rayforce, and Taito/UPL’s Acrobat Mission.
We are now ready to discuss the game difficulty that, in my opinion, stems from three Facets: the game mechanics, Stage design/layout, and rank. I propose to partition the 50 total points into 20, 20 and 10 points per Facet, respectively, and to start our discussion from the third Facet. The game has a simple form of “survival rank”: the longer players survive, the faster bullets become. Enemies do not seem to have more H(it)P(point)s as rank increases, but some enemies’ movement seems to increase with rank. If players reach Stage six on one life, bullets’ speed becomes a constant source of threat: dodging point-blanking enemies is next to impossible. The game mechanics provide a similarly simple set of challenges. Players must master the use of secondary weapons to kill enemies on both planes: using the basic secondary shot does not suffice to destroy all enemies in time.
Furthermore, players must master Yukiwo’s ship’s movement at maximal speed, as lower speeds render the ship a near-sitting target. When losing a life, players must learn to survive at least one minute before the game releases new F power-ups; multiple successive deaths are a serious risk, in this game. Stage design/layout, the second Facet, offers another considerable contribution to the overall difficulty. Stage one is a short preamble, but Stages two to six are relatively long Stages (around four minutes) with various mid-bosses and tricky sections. Boss fights can be relatively short (at most one minute) if players learn how to point-blank the bosses with primary and secondary weapons. In general, though, players must develop good strategies for each stage especially when sniping enemies appear, and must have a firm grasp of how to handle bosses. The final boss offers no challenge: the “Greek AI’s” are veritable bastards.
Overall, I would suggest that the first Facet motivates a 6/20 points of difficulty, as players need to master four secondary weapons, plus quirky main shot, and speed mechanics. Stage design/layout motivates a 10/20 points of difficulty, due to Stage one being an easy preamble. Rank offers a subtle contribution: if players learn to recover from deaths, rank is not a crucial source of difficulty. However, players will find Stage six treacherous once they learn to reach it on the first life, and with four lives in stock (extends are 500k and 1M points). The game thus reaches a minimal score of 17/50 difficulty points if players can handle multiple deaths across stages, but a maximal score of 22/50 points at maximal rank. Basic 1-CC’s are a challenge for top-tier intermediate players; 1-LC’s are the province of low-tier expert players, and rather frustrating experience.
Our progress in this squib has followed a steep pace, so Xenny would probably be delighted to move to the conclusions directly. Dear Xenny: I will be brief with my experiences, trust me. It is summer 1991, and it is quite hot. My uncle has added a few new games, even if by his own admission most of the games are old boards he was able to obtain at bargain price. One is this strange platform game from Toaplan with a strange name, Pipi and Bibis, pervy cutscenes like Kaneko’s Gals Panic and even stranger game mechanics. Pervy games are funny if already naïve: Teen kids can easily get their hands on full-blown porn easily, in Italy. I admit that in 1990, I play these two titles for their mechanics and skip the pervy parts: too “soft”. I also admit that both games generously kick my ass with gusto: too “hard”.
I try out Master of Weapon once I can summon the courage to play a shooter game outside Darius II. Soon in 2025 my readers will now that my 1989 and 1990 are years of shmup ordeal, due to this Taito classic. For now, and for this version of 1990, however, readers need to know that I feel wary of playing another Taito shooting game. I feel that this company has recently gone overboard in setting difficulty levels, even if I admit that Cadash feels like a walk in the park, now that I can finish it every day. Thus, I try a few credits of Master of Weapon and I confirm that my initial fears were right: this game feels irrationally hard, and has tons of traps and sneaky enemies. I also frown when I see the first “Greek” boss: the game’s creators watched too much Saint Seiya.
Somehow, though, I keep playing the game for the next two weeks or so and make the kind of steady progress that I do not expect from myself, with shooters. I slowly but inexorably reach a new Stage or “Act” after each week of dedicated play, and feel that my recent fish-based ordeal has given me better skills at the genre. It is 2005 and I am studying the notion of ”motor skill transfer” during my Master years in Utrecht University for the first time. In 1990, I have however simply an intuition that I am getting better in general, due to the sheer amount of practice in videogames. It is now the first week of August, and I can consistently reach Act V, Cry. I admit it: by this point, I hit a plateau and my holidays at the seaside hinder my progress, too.
In September I am back in my hometown and I resume my battle with this game. Reaching Stage five on one life is hard, and I feel that dying before that might even be better. I stubbornly insist on avoiding deaths at all costs, because I really do not understand how to recover from them. My “purist” attitude seems now a problem, as it takes me a month to reach Act VI, Implosion. The music on the final two stages is by now oppressive with its style, and the game seems interminable. By the end of September, though, I start regularly reaching “Zeus”, the final boss…and then one day I defeat it and reach the true final boss on my last life, and trigger a double knock-out. I die, but the ending credits start anyway. So, Yukiwo seems to win his battle anyway, for the first time.
I play the game for another month or so, collecting various clears on an irregular basis: the game can be maddening difficult, on some days. By this point it is cold and dark, and playing the final two Stages with that song in the background feels exasperating. One day I do finish the game on my first life and achieve a very satisfying run. I am somewhat happy to have helped Yukiwo in his battle, but I do not want to play this game ever again. My uncle, in his impeccably creepiest grin, tells me that Yukiwo will never survive that kind of radioactive world. He is going to end up like those creatures in Cronache del Dopobomba, a terrifying fumetto that my father forbids me from reading. I have not played this game “seriously” ever again, but I am happy that I have written this squib, dear Yukiwo.
Let us wrap up. Master of Weapon is a Taito TATE shmup released in 1989 that features a post-apocalyptic setting in which a young boy, Yukiwo, fights against an evil AI-driven dictatorship. The game features a dual plane game system in the line of Taito’s earlier release Tokyo but includes secondary weapons that can operate on both attack planes. The game is notable also for implementing other some 2.5D effects, huge sprites as Stage five/Act V’s flying carrier, and an OST that veers into paranoid territory by the game’s end. The game is notable for featuring a simple but challenging survival rank system, a moderately intense 1-CC challenge, and fast-paced if sometimes rather frustrating action. Players who wish to challenge themselves in 1-CC’ing a shmup that certainly has shortcomings in its mechanics but also provides a remarkably peculiar if brooding ambience can certainly enjoy Master of Weapon.
(2363 words or 5.9 pages, times new roman, size 12, single space; usual disclaimers apply; the game also has a prototype version simply called Yukiwo in MAME in which Yukiwo himself rides on some kind of flying bike. In the main game, trigger it with a dipswitch setting. I am not sure on how Yukiwo can survive the purported vastly irradiated and radioactive Tokyo of the game, however. I do remember other kids watching me playing this game and wondering how I could actually stand all the sniping cheap shots and the final two themes. One guy also conjectured that Cry/Implosion was the theme that drove programmers made and forced them to suicide. The final boss, according to him, was the revenant form of these programmers fused into a super-intelligent organism. Yes, as kids we had highly creative and impressionable imagination. We all agreed that the ending was really, really creepy: How can Yukiwo survive his newfound freedom?).
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
Cadash (Taito, 1989)
This week’s squib is dedicated to Cadash, one of Taito’s most interesting offers from the 1980s. The game was originally ported to several formats, after release: I refer my readers to the wiki reference for a full list. The Taito Memories PS2 port is a good rendition, and of course Hamster has re-released the game for PS4/Switch. In this squib I will follow an approach that comics scribe Kieron Gillen championed when he was a game journalist. I will thus present the squib as a “first journey” to the game world that Taito created for this game. Some of my readers may close the thread at the thought of reading sappy, navel-grazing “narrations” of gamers talking about themselves rather than of the game they purport to explore. Fear not: your humble scribe’s prose and game-exploring skills will guarantee an excellent final product, as always. Thus:
Cadash (Taito, 1989) is an A(rcade)R(ole)P(laying)G(ame) in which four adventurers must save princess Salassa from the kingdom of Deerzar from the clutches of Balrog, a powerful red dragon. The game is a platform/R2RKMF/action game with RPG elements, an expansive set of interconnected Stages (“continents”, in-game) and a great soundtrack. The game is notable for its highly flexible difficulty and the presence of a ninja character, a standard concession to Japanese tastes in otherwise Western Fantasy-themed RPGs. Since the game had plenty of dialogue and narration for a 1989 game, Taito released the game in a multi-lingual format. Players could thus play the title in arcades with the story unraveling in English, German, French, Italian, Spanish and Japanese. Irrespective of the language, players could eventually save Deerzar and the princess, but certainly at a notable price. The goal of this squib is to introduce readers to this wonderful “game novel”, thus.
By this point in our journey among squibs, we have amply discussed the rise of Western-style Fantasy and ARPGs in our squibs. With titles like Sega/Westone’s Wonder Boy in Monster Land or Namco’s Valkyrie no Densetsu arcade players became used to RPG-style narration emmeshed in tight action-style games. Several other games including shmups like Capcom’s Forgotten Worlds and ARPG Black Tiger further developed the concept of purchasing power-ups. Cadash, however, combined these mechanics with RPG elements such as levelling up, skill and “stat(istics)” values, and the introduction of spell inventories. Classic titles of this micro-genre that appeared in the 1990s probably took inspiration from Cadash. Examples include Capcom’s D&D: Tower of Doom and D&D: Shadow over Mystara but also IGS’ Knights of Valour series focusing on the Romance of the Three Kingdoms saga. Cadash thus seems a more influential game than it may appear at first glance.
The game’s plot and setting perhaps present a relatively complex setting and sophisticated approach to narration, for the time being. The game is set in world heavily reminiscent of standard Fantasy classics like The Lord of The Rings. After all, Balrog is the name of one of the many demonic-like creatures in this saga. As the attract mode shows, the story begins when Balrog (“Baarogue” in non-Japanese versions of the game), kidnaps princess Salassa and brings hers to castle Cadash. King Dilsarl of the kingdom of Dirzir summons four heroes to castle Deerzar, with the goal of saving princess Salassa. The king has a critical reason for doing so, aside from saving her beloved daughter. Balrog wishes to bind his blood with that of a human woman, so that him and the underground hordes at his command may walk again in the sunlight, free of fear of cruel humans.
The game’s narrative setting thus has in intriguing twist. The four heroes must slay Balrog and his army, but Balrog’s objective is break the human curse that banished non-humans to the underground lands. Only one side can ultimately emerge victorious, but players ultimately fight to avoid that past sins will punish their contemporary human civilization. Players must thus start their journey from the kingdom of Dirzir and complete five quests in the dungeons of four continents occupying the game’s world. Each dungeon and quest correspond to a game’s Stage. Players can only access Castle Cadash, Stage five, once they clear the quest on Stage four’s dungeon/continent. Notably, each Stage has a portal that connects a dungeon to another continent and dungeon in both directions. For instance, Stage one’s dungeon has a portal taking players to the second continent: players can go back and forth as they please.
The game thus offers players the chance to progress in a non-linear manner as far as they can eventually clear the game within the time limit. This can however occur if players complete quests/Stages in a linear order, a feat that involves the evolution (i.e. levelling up) of characters along this journey. Let us however proceed from the basic game mechanics or Facets to explain this evolution. Players can choose four characters: the warrior, the priestess, the ninja and the mage. Players control the four characters in eight directions via the joystick: characters can jump via the pressure of the B button, and can attack in any direction via command moves (A button+direction). For instance, the ninja can shoot shuriken downwards by jumping first (B button) and then directing the attack(s) (e.g. down+A button). The precise nature of the attacks varies from character to character, of course.
All characters level up by killing enemies and collecting the coin bags that they drop. Levelling up increase “STR(ength)” (i.e physical attacks power) DEX(erity) (i.e. speed and jumping range) and A(rmor)C(class) (i.e. resilience to damage). When players reach increasingly higher thresholds of (e)X(perience)P(oint)s, all these skills increase along with H(it)P(point)s. The mage and the priestess are spell-caster characters: if players push and hold the A button, a spell inventory icon appears next to the characters. Spells increase in number and power as characters level up, but they also increasing in the amount of M(agic)P(oint)s required to cast them. Players can hold the A button so that the inventory will automatically rotate among spells at disposal. By releasing the button, the character launches the spell currently under selection. The ninja and warrior are fighter-type characters, so they do not cast spells but can reach impressive physical skills by levelling up.
Players can then collect several special items by shooting/hitting secret spots or by visiting shops and buying these items. The most common items are the medical herb and antidote. Medical herbs let characters recover 10 HPs when their HPs go to zero; antidotes prevent poisoning attacks from delivering multiple damage over time. Players can then buy sand clocks to obtain one extra minute of time, a silver key to open some gates across Stages, and golden bell in some specific shops (e.g. the dwarves’ shop at the beginning of Stage three). The bell increases the maximum HP points by eight points, even if levelling up will also increase HPs; the maximum for all characters is set at 255 HPs, anyway. Players can only keep up to eight herbs and antidotes in their inventories, only need one silver key, and the sand clocks’ price increases after each purchase.
Players can also buy new and more powerful weapons and armour once they reach the weapons shops in each Stage, if they have enough money. Players may skip upgrades (e.g. avoid buying new weapons on Stage two), but their attacking power will obviously remain limited. Players can then visit “Inns”, i.e. shops that offer the character a chance to rest for the night and recover all HPs at once. Inn’s locations across continents/Stages are such that players may need to return to their previous steps if in need of healing. For instance, players may wish to recover all HPs before the final battle with Balrog in castle Cadash (Stage five). They thus need to exit the castle, and go back to the lost continent (i.e. Stage four). Here they must take a gate to Stage three (i.e. the gnomes’ forest), visit the Stage’s inn, and then return to face Balrog.
The game’s mechanics and levelling up system are thus relatively simple, while the ability to move across Stages/continents once they are accessible creates interesting game options. These Facets interact in interesting manners to shape the game’s difficulty, on which regional revisions also play an important role. First, however, let us discuss the game’s audio-visual Facets in some detail. The game runs on Taito’s ”Bonze Adventure” hardware, and features some intriguing visual effects, e.g. the wave-style fade-in effect for the title screen. The four characters, bosses and some enemies are also fluidly animated (e.g. the harpies, Balrog in his dragon form). However, many enemies and N(on)P(laying)C(haracter)s have few animation frames (e.g. giant spiders), thus giving animation an uneven quality. The game’s palette is also notable in mostly focusing on dark, virulent colours, to the effect that some enemies on Stages one and two may be hard to spot, at first glance.
The game’s visual prowess however emerges in its visual world building. Though simple in their design, each Stage/continent and dungeon also provide powerfully evocative themes. For instance, Stage four, the “lost continent”, offers a dungeon with undead creatures, fire elementals and powerful monsters as the main theme. The walls forming the Stage’s structures consist of human skeletons appearing in a morbid yellow evoking exsiccated, mummified bones. Stage three’s dungeon is in the netherworld of a forest, and its bright emerald green vines may appear as pulsating worms, at times. The human kingdoms on Stage one and two and the fairies’ forest have however an idyllic atmosphere that might bring players to stop in these places for a few moments. The world of Cadash is a simple and yet well-defined, intensely immersive world for which players can develop an attachment: saving this world from Balrog may thus become a personal quest.
The OST by the Pinch Punch’s collective, Zuntata’s erstwhile external collaborators, provides a formidable complement to this evocative portrayal. The gentle fantasy-esque theme Door between ordinary and Disordinary accompanies characters during non-fighting scenes. However, once characters enter dungeons, themes switch to notes of increasing intensity that create brooding, harrowing atmospheres aptly matching the increasingly horrific nature of dungeons. Stage three’s theme, Suck the lifeblood to live, is a timely reminder that players are traversing a dungeon full of carnivorous creatures. Stage four’s Chortle with Insanity is a fast-paced theme accompanying players through Taito’s vision of hell. Once the game is over, players can enjoy one of the most beautiful, melancholic, bittersweet Ending songs that ever graced an arcade game. Be sure to shed tears of happiness, after hearing it the first time. Finally, sound effects are loud, bombastic, and somewhat hilarious in style: luckily, they become “background nnoise” quickly.
The intense and sometimes grandguignole-esque aesthetics find a thematic counterpoint in the game subtly defined and highly flexible difficulty. I propose that Cadash has three Facets defining its difficulty: game mechanics; Stage design/layout, and especially their semi-linear structure; and game’s revisions. I assign 10, 20 and 20 maximal points to each respective Facet, out of a total of 50 points, and discuss these Facets in this order. Game mechanics are rather straightforward. Players must learn how to attack in multiple directions, and may learn to use the spells’ inventories for spell-caster characters. Medical herbs allow players to side-step some difficulties. When characters lose their final hit points and use medical herbs, they have generous i(nvicibility)-frames. During the activation of i-frames, characters can literally move through any enemy, and thus clear some passages without fighting. This technique is risky: after using eight herbs, characters will die rather than be invincible.
Game mechanics do not however provide further challenges, so they motivate a 3/10 assignment value. Stage design/layout offers a perhaps more nuanced challenge. As an action/platform game, Cadash does not provide particularly steep challenges. If players learn how to handle each dungeon and its boss, 1-CC’ing the game is a feasible goal, especially since the game is generous with HPs. The game’s narrative structure poses an interesting challenge in how players can access Stages. Ideally, players can clear each Stage and specific sub-quest (e.g. save the mermaid girl on Stage two) and then progress to the next Stage in a linear manner. However, players may return to previously cleared Stages/continents to acquire items, as our discussion of Inns has suggested. Players can also repeat parts of a dungeon to increase character’s XPs and statistics, since enemies will respawn once players enter a section a second time, time limit permitting.
Players can thus develop various strategies and paths to 1-CC the game, possibly aiming at reaching the final fight with Balrog with characters in their most powerful form. The only requirement is that players gauge their paths and purchase of extra time to avoid timing out: if this happens, characters will quickly lose HPs and die out miserably. I thus suggest that the second Facet motivates a 7/20 difficulty points value assignment. It is the third Facet, the game’s different revisions and how they affect the overall game engine, that motivates a more detailed discussion of the game’s difficulty. The game’s non-Japanese revisions include low thresholds for characters’ levelling up and generous increases for characters’ stats, including HPs. In these revisions, the ninja is already a near-unbeatable character by level 12 (out of 16), and can beat Balrog easily due to its high AC and STR levels.
If players thus focus on these revisions and use the ninja, difficulty stops at a total of 10/50 points: the game is a top-tier game for beginner players, and an easy 1-CC. The warrior’s lack of long-range attacks and the priestess’ initial physical weakness make the game slightly more difficult, even if the priestess’ higher range spells are formidable. Players who want a higher challenge can thus 1-CC the game first with the priestess and then with the warrior. For me, they raise the difficulty to 13/50 and 15/50 points, respectively, turning the game to a mid-tier challenge for intermediate players. The mage offers a considerably higher challenge, as players must use spell almost all the time: the mage never levels up enough to have any relevant physical skills and attacks. I propose a 20/50 value assignment for difficulty, as perhaps top-tier intermediate players may welcome this challenge.
The Japanese version offers a considerably more difficulty challenge. Players can only carry four magical herbs and antidotes, so they must learn how to clear passages that are trivial via the “i-frames trick”. The cost of using inns is considerably higher, coin drops are less generous, and levelling up increases statistics at a slower pace. In other words, players must develop a firmer grasp of the game’s Stages and avoid wasting “time and money” when proceeding. I would therefore add five points for this revision, increasing totals to 15/50 (ninja), 18/50 and 20/50 points (priestess, warrior), and 25/50 points (mage). The Japanese version of Cadash is a mid-tier game for intermediate to expert players, and more in general acts an “extra” revision providing a more intense challenge. Players who feel that they have squeezed the other versions to their natural limits can move to this version, thus.
Let us now conclude with a final journey to the kingdom of Dirzir and its world via my experiences. Xenny is, once more, busy with xis (His? Her? Xer? Xits?) family/hive, so we are free to get away with the sappy equivalent of narrative blue murder. It is the end of August 1989 and I am trying to clear Darius II, finally. The game has begun to annoy me, especially because of its irrationally difficult last Stages. There are other games that occupy my attention from this part of summer to Christmas time, including Robocop, Rabio Lepus and Tiger Road at the bar in my grandparents’ village. I try out Cadash almost by mistake, in the sense that at this time in my life I have little interest in this strange platform game with magic. My uncle invites me to play one credit, smirking, and see if I can enjoy it.
I am quite surprised, at the beginning, to see that the game is in Italian: I follow the idea that Japanese games arrive to Italy in their English language versions. I do remember seeing some old unused cabs from a company called “Zaccaria”, with game instructions in Italian; I have hazy memories of my natural parents playing one such game. By now, 1989, these are already memories forgotten to the mists of my childhood, however. Now I am focusing on choosing a nice nickname for my character: the game starts with this choice. I want to write “FAU”, my current initials, and I think for a moment to switch to “ACV”, my original initials. I end up tapping “OKF” (OK, F), because I could not insert the “U” on time. Ah, “OKF” becomes my “arcade nick”, from this moment of time onwards.
My first few credits are quite encouraging. I lose my first credit to the blob-like thing at the end of the first dungeon, but I can beat the thing already by the second credit. Most importantly, though, by the fifth credit I start memorising the game’s plot and dialogues and repeat them in my head, as I always do for stories I love. After a few days of playing the game every day, I can consistently reach Stage three and slowly but surely learn its various paths and secrets. My uncle, by this point, develops the habit of making fun of my initial reticence in playing the game: during each credit, he pops up and asks if I still dislike the game. Bah, old folks. Nevertheless, I must admit that I am slowly becoming partial to this fantastic story and its world. Dirzir is a nice place that I like to visit daily.
Within two weeks or so I start reaching the “lost continent” and, to be honest, feel somewhat disturbed by its design. Walls made of skeletons, a creepy song playing in the background, difficult passages and enemies delivering tons of damage…it takes me three weeks, to overcome this obstacle. Figuring out what to do to reach castle Cadash, another week. The final Stage continues the oppressive atmosphere and style, and is quite the challenge for my kid self of 1989. I do think of giving up from time to time, but leaving princess Salassa to her own destiny feels horrible. Besides, I see other people clearing the game with a certain ease, including a group of people who always play as a quartet. I need to learn the final passages of the castle with my trustworthy ninja character, and reach the final “Baarogue” guy with one resurrection elixir.
After another two weeks or so, I can clear the game on a cold autumn Sunday afternoon. I admit that the first time my hands are shaking, because I can deliver the final hit at 20 energy points from certain death. The final dragon form misses the killing hit, and I land the final two fireballs. I win. I am almost in trance when I watch the final credits and princess Salassa saying: “Thanks for all the help, OKF!” My pleasure, princess. And then, for one week, I pause. By early November I start playing with the warrior, and then the priestess, and then the mage: I clear the game daily, by this point. For the next few months, until early June or so, I always visit Dirzir each day I go to the arcade. I know all its secret passages and I can reach the maximum experience level, easily.
Over the months, what keeps making me return to Dirzir is the place and the atmosphere: a peaceful world threatened by arrogant monsters, and four adventurers saving this poor world. By early June, my uncle sells the board without telling me: I cry and leave the arcade, when I discover this fact. One of the first games I clear again during my gap year is indeed Cadash: I cry tears of joy, after playing it for the first time. I buy the Taito Memories port in 2005, while I am in Utrecht for my Master degree, and spend quite a bit of time 1-CC’ing the Japanese harder version. It deeply moves me that I can revisit this place in a new, more challenging manner. Over the decades, Dirzir becomes a veritable locus amoenus and a sanctuary that I visit in “times of need”: home away from home, if fictional.
Let us conclude, before we end up stuck in Dirzir’s timeless beauty. Cadash is an ARPG/R2RKMF/action-platform game in which four fantasy characters must save the world from a ruthless demon/dragon-like entity, Balrog. The game features a greatly detailed story for the time and hardware constraints, fun platforming parts, interesting secrets, and a semi-linear approach to Stage progression. The game also offers different levels of difficulty via its revisions and characters. Players who want a quick and easy 1-CC can play with the ninja any non-Japanese version, while players who want a considerable challenge can see if they can clear the Japanese version with the mage. The game also offers a superb ending theme and, its simple and maybe antiquated arcade format, a truly immersive RPG experience. Dirzir and its world are pulsating, moving places: be sure to visit them as often as possible.
(3412 words, or 8.6 pages in times new roman, size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; the Japanese version has a few interesting easter eggs involving the programmers, as this page discusses. Unbelievably, I never tried to adapt this game into a tabletop RPG campaign, though I would not be able to say why I never thought about trying at least once. I admit that I cannot stand The Lord of the Rings and any of its derivatives, but I never had any problems ignoring the many references to Tolkien’s books in Cadash. I must also admit that I had a few nightmares when I saw Stage four’s dungeon for the first time. The concept of a vast underground dungeon made of tens of thousands of human skeletons freaked me out, back in the day. Finally, has anyone had at least a short crush on Salassa as the princess in distress who becomes a strong queen? Ah, young folks…).
Cadash (Taito, 1989) is an A(rcade)R(ole)P(laying)G(ame) in which four adventurers must save princess Salassa from the kingdom of Deerzar from the clutches of Balrog, a powerful red dragon. The game is a platform/R2RKMF/action game with RPG elements, an expansive set of interconnected Stages (“continents”, in-game) and a great soundtrack. The game is notable for its highly flexible difficulty and the presence of a ninja character, a standard concession to Japanese tastes in otherwise Western Fantasy-themed RPGs. Since the game had plenty of dialogue and narration for a 1989 game, Taito released the game in a multi-lingual format. Players could thus play the title in arcades with the story unraveling in English, German, French, Italian, Spanish and Japanese. Irrespective of the language, players could eventually save Deerzar and the princess, but certainly at a notable price. The goal of this squib is to introduce readers to this wonderful “game novel”, thus.
By this point in our journey among squibs, we have amply discussed the rise of Western-style Fantasy and ARPGs in our squibs. With titles like Sega/Westone’s Wonder Boy in Monster Land or Namco’s Valkyrie no Densetsu arcade players became used to RPG-style narration emmeshed in tight action-style games. Several other games including shmups like Capcom’s Forgotten Worlds and ARPG Black Tiger further developed the concept of purchasing power-ups. Cadash, however, combined these mechanics with RPG elements such as levelling up, skill and “stat(istics)” values, and the introduction of spell inventories. Classic titles of this micro-genre that appeared in the 1990s probably took inspiration from Cadash. Examples include Capcom’s D&D: Tower of Doom and D&D: Shadow over Mystara but also IGS’ Knights of Valour series focusing on the Romance of the Three Kingdoms saga. Cadash thus seems a more influential game than it may appear at first glance.
The game’s plot and setting perhaps present a relatively complex setting and sophisticated approach to narration, for the time being. The game is set in world heavily reminiscent of standard Fantasy classics like The Lord of The Rings. After all, Balrog is the name of one of the many demonic-like creatures in this saga. As the attract mode shows, the story begins when Balrog (“Baarogue” in non-Japanese versions of the game), kidnaps princess Salassa and brings hers to castle Cadash. King Dilsarl of the kingdom of Dirzir summons four heroes to castle Deerzar, with the goal of saving princess Salassa. The king has a critical reason for doing so, aside from saving her beloved daughter. Balrog wishes to bind his blood with that of a human woman, so that him and the underground hordes at his command may walk again in the sunlight, free of fear of cruel humans.
The game’s narrative setting thus has in intriguing twist. The four heroes must slay Balrog and his army, but Balrog’s objective is break the human curse that banished non-humans to the underground lands. Only one side can ultimately emerge victorious, but players ultimately fight to avoid that past sins will punish their contemporary human civilization. Players must thus start their journey from the kingdom of Dirzir and complete five quests in the dungeons of four continents occupying the game’s world. Each dungeon and quest correspond to a game’s Stage. Players can only access Castle Cadash, Stage five, once they clear the quest on Stage four’s dungeon/continent. Notably, each Stage has a portal that connects a dungeon to another continent and dungeon in both directions. For instance, Stage one’s dungeon has a portal taking players to the second continent: players can go back and forth as they please.
The game thus offers players the chance to progress in a non-linear manner as far as they can eventually clear the game within the time limit. This can however occur if players complete quests/Stages in a linear order, a feat that involves the evolution (i.e. levelling up) of characters along this journey. Let us however proceed from the basic game mechanics or Facets to explain this evolution. Players can choose four characters: the warrior, the priestess, the ninja and the mage. Players control the four characters in eight directions via the joystick: characters can jump via the pressure of the B button, and can attack in any direction via command moves (A button+direction). For instance, the ninja can shoot shuriken downwards by jumping first (B button) and then directing the attack(s) (e.g. down+A button). The precise nature of the attacks varies from character to character, of course.
All characters level up by killing enemies and collecting the coin bags that they drop. Levelling up increase “STR(ength)” (i.e physical attacks power) DEX(erity) (i.e. speed and jumping range) and A(rmor)C(class) (i.e. resilience to damage). When players reach increasingly higher thresholds of (e)X(perience)P(oint)s, all these skills increase along with H(it)P(point)s. The mage and the priestess are spell-caster characters: if players push and hold the A button, a spell inventory icon appears next to the characters. Spells increase in number and power as characters level up, but they also increasing in the amount of M(agic)P(oint)s required to cast them. Players can hold the A button so that the inventory will automatically rotate among spells at disposal. By releasing the button, the character launches the spell currently under selection. The ninja and warrior are fighter-type characters, so they do not cast spells but can reach impressive physical skills by levelling up.
Players can then collect several special items by shooting/hitting secret spots or by visiting shops and buying these items. The most common items are the medical herb and antidote. Medical herbs let characters recover 10 HPs when their HPs go to zero; antidotes prevent poisoning attacks from delivering multiple damage over time. Players can then buy sand clocks to obtain one extra minute of time, a silver key to open some gates across Stages, and golden bell in some specific shops (e.g. the dwarves’ shop at the beginning of Stage three). The bell increases the maximum HP points by eight points, even if levelling up will also increase HPs; the maximum for all characters is set at 255 HPs, anyway. Players can only keep up to eight herbs and antidotes in their inventories, only need one silver key, and the sand clocks’ price increases after each purchase.
Players can also buy new and more powerful weapons and armour once they reach the weapons shops in each Stage, if they have enough money. Players may skip upgrades (e.g. avoid buying new weapons on Stage two), but their attacking power will obviously remain limited. Players can then visit “Inns”, i.e. shops that offer the character a chance to rest for the night and recover all HPs at once. Inn’s locations across continents/Stages are such that players may need to return to their previous steps if in need of healing. For instance, players may wish to recover all HPs before the final battle with Balrog in castle Cadash (Stage five). They thus need to exit the castle, and go back to the lost continent (i.e. Stage four). Here they must take a gate to Stage three (i.e. the gnomes’ forest), visit the Stage’s inn, and then return to face Balrog.
The game’s mechanics and levelling up system are thus relatively simple, while the ability to move across Stages/continents once they are accessible creates interesting game options. These Facets interact in interesting manners to shape the game’s difficulty, on which regional revisions also play an important role. First, however, let us discuss the game’s audio-visual Facets in some detail. The game runs on Taito’s ”Bonze Adventure” hardware, and features some intriguing visual effects, e.g. the wave-style fade-in effect for the title screen. The four characters, bosses and some enemies are also fluidly animated (e.g. the harpies, Balrog in his dragon form). However, many enemies and N(on)P(laying)C(haracter)s have few animation frames (e.g. giant spiders), thus giving animation an uneven quality. The game’s palette is also notable in mostly focusing on dark, virulent colours, to the effect that some enemies on Stages one and two may be hard to spot, at first glance.
The game’s visual prowess however emerges in its visual world building. Though simple in their design, each Stage/continent and dungeon also provide powerfully evocative themes. For instance, Stage four, the “lost continent”, offers a dungeon with undead creatures, fire elementals and powerful monsters as the main theme. The walls forming the Stage’s structures consist of human skeletons appearing in a morbid yellow evoking exsiccated, mummified bones. Stage three’s dungeon is in the netherworld of a forest, and its bright emerald green vines may appear as pulsating worms, at times. The human kingdoms on Stage one and two and the fairies’ forest have however an idyllic atmosphere that might bring players to stop in these places for a few moments. The world of Cadash is a simple and yet well-defined, intensely immersive world for which players can develop an attachment: saving this world from Balrog may thus become a personal quest.
The OST by the Pinch Punch’s collective, Zuntata’s erstwhile external collaborators, provides a formidable complement to this evocative portrayal. The gentle fantasy-esque theme Door between ordinary and Disordinary accompanies characters during non-fighting scenes. However, once characters enter dungeons, themes switch to notes of increasing intensity that create brooding, harrowing atmospheres aptly matching the increasingly horrific nature of dungeons. Stage three’s theme, Suck the lifeblood to live, is a timely reminder that players are traversing a dungeon full of carnivorous creatures. Stage four’s Chortle with Insanity is a fast-paced theme accompanying players through Taito’s vision of hell. Once the game is over, players can enjoy one of the most beautiful, melancholic, bittersweet Ending songs that ever graced an arcade game. Be sure to shed tears of happiness, after hearing it the first time. Finally, sound effects are loud, bombastic, and somewhat hilarious in style: luckily, they become “background nnoise” quickly.
The intense and sometimes grandguignole-esque aesthetics find a thematic counterpoint in the game subtly defined and highly flexible difficulty. I propose that Cadash has three Facets defining its difficulty: game mechanics; Stage design/layout, and especially their semi-linear structure; and game’s revisions. I assign 10, 20 and 20 maximal points to each respective Facet, out of a total of 50 points, and discuss these Facets in this order. Game mechanics are rather straightforward. Players must learn how to attack in multiple directions, and may learn to use the spells’ inventories for spell-caster characters. Medical herbs allow players to side-step some difficulties. When characters lose their final hit points and use medical herbs, they have generous i(nvicibility)-frames. During the activation of i-frames, characters can literally move through any enemy, and thus clear some passages without fighting. This technique is risky: after using eight herbs, characters will die rather than be invincible.
Game mechanics do not however provide further challenges, so they motivate a 3/10 assignment value. Stage design/layout offers a perhaps more nuanced challenge. As an action/platform game, Cadash does not provide particularly steep challenges. If players learn how to handle each dungeon and its boss, 1-CC’ing the game is a feasible goal, especially since the game is generous with HPs. The game’s narrative structure poses an interesting challenge in how players can access Stages. Ideally, players can clear each Stage and specific sub-quest (e.g. save the mermaid girl on Stage two) and then progress to the next Stage in a linear manner. However, players may return to previously cleared Stages/continents to acquire items, as our discussion of Inns has suggested. Players can also repeat parts of a dungeon to increase character’s XPs and statistics, since enemies will respawn once players enter a section a second time, time limit permitting.
Players can thus develop various strategies and paths to 1-CC the game, possibly aiming at reaching the final fight with Balrog with characters in their most powerful form. The only requirement is that players gauge their paths and purchase of extra time to avoid timing out: if this happens, characters will quickly lose HPs and die out miserably. I thus suggest that the second Facet motivates a 7/20 difficulty points value assignment. It is the third Facet, the game’s different revisions and how they affect the overall game engine, that motivates a more detailed discussion of the game’s difficulty. The game’s non-Japanese revisions include low thresholds for characters’ levelling up and generous increases for characters’ stats, including HPs. In these revisions, the ninja is already a near-unbeatable character by level 12 (out of 16), and can beat Balrog easily due to its high AC and STR levels.
If players thus focus on these revisions and use the ninja, difficulty stops at a total of 10/50 points: the game is a top-tier game for beginner players, and an easy 1-CC. The warrior’s lack of long-range attacks and the priestess’ initial physical weakness make the game slightly more difficult, even if the priestess’ higher range spells are formidable. Players who want a higher challenge can thus 1-CC the game first with the priestess and then with the warrior. For me, they raise the difficulty to 13/50 and 15/50 points, respectively, turning the game to a mid-tier challenge for intermediate players. The mage offers a considerably higher challenge, as players must use spell almost all the time: the mage never levels up enough to have any relevant physical skills and attacks. I propose a 20/50 value assignment for difficulty, as perhaps top-tier intermediate players may welcome this challenge.
The Japanese version offers a considerably more difficulty challenge. Players can only carry four magical herbs and antidotes, so they must learn how to clear passages that are trivial via the “i-frames trick”. The cost of using inns is considerably higher, coin drops are less generous, and levelling up increases statistics at a slower pace. In other words, players must develop a firmer grasp of the game’s Stages and avoid wasting “time and money” when proceeding. I would therefore add five points for this revision, increasing totals to 15/50 (ninja), 18/50 and 20/50 points (priestess, warrior), and 25/50 points (mage). The Japanese version of Cadash is a mid-tier game for intermediate to expert players, and more in general acts an “extra” revision providing a more intense challenge. Players who feel that they have squeezed the other versions to their natural limits can move to this version, thus.
Let us now conclude with a final journey to the kingdom of Dirzir and its world via my experiences. Xenny is, once more, busy with xis (His? Her? Xer? Xits?) family/hive, so we are free to get away with the sappy equivalent of narrative blue murder. It is the end of August 1989 and I am trying to clear Darius II, finally. The game has begun to annoy me, especially because of its irrationally difficult last Stages. There are other games that occupy my attention from this part of summer to Christmas time, including Robocop, Rabio Lepus and Tiger Road at the bar in my grandparents’ village. I try out Cadash almost by mistake, in the sense that at this time in my life I have little interest in this strange platform game with magic. My uncle invites me to play one credit, smirking, and see if I can enjoy it.
I am quite surprised, at the beginning, to see that the game is in Italian: I follow the idea that Japanese games arrive to Italy in their English language versions. I do remember seeing some old unused cabs from a company called “Zaccaria”, with game instructions in Italian; I have hazy memories of my natural parents playing one such game. By now, 1989, these are already memories forgotten to the mists of my childhood, however. Now I am focusing on choosing a nice nickname for my character: the game starts with this choice. I want to write “FAU”, my current initials, and I think for a moment to switch to “ACV”, my original initials. I end up tapping “OKF” (OK, F), because I could not insert the “U” on time. Ah, “OKF” becomes my “arcade nick”, from this moment of time onwards.
My first few credits are quite encouraging. I lose my first credit to the blob-like thing at the end of the first dungeon, but I can beat the thing already by the second credit. Most importantly, though, by the fifth credit I start memorising the game’s plot and dialogues and repeat them in my head, as I always do for stories I love. After a few days of playing the game every day, I can consistently reach Stage three and slowly but surely learn its various paths and secrets. My uncle, by this point, develops the habit of making fun of my initial reticence in playing the game: during each credit, he pops up and asks if I still dislike the game. Bah, old folks. Nevertheless, I must admit that I am slowly becoming partial to this fantastic story and its world. Dirzir is a nice place that I like to visit daily.
Within two weeks or so I start reaching the “lost continent” and, to be honest, feel somewhat disturbed by its design. Walls made of skeletons, a creepy song playing in the background, difficult passages and enemies delivering tons of damage…it takes me three weeks, to overcome this obstacle. Figuring out what to do to reach castle Cadash, another week. The final Stage continues the oppressive atmosphere and style, and is quite the challenge for my kid self of 1989. I do think of giving up from time to time, but leaving princess Salassa to her own destiny feels horrible. Besides, I see other people clearing the game with a certain ease, including a group of people who always play as a quartet. I need to learn the final passages of the castle with my trustworthy ninja character, and reach the final “Baarogue” guy with one resurrection elixir.
After another two weeks or so, I can clear the game on a cold autumn Sunday afternoon. I admit that the first time my hands are shaking, because I can deliver the final hit at 20 energy points from certain death. The final dragon form misses the killing hit, and I land the final two fireballs. I win. I am almost in trance when I watch the final credits and princess Salassa saying: “Thanks for all the help, OKF!” My pleasure, princess. And then, for one week, I pause. By early November I start playing with the warrior, and then the priestess, and then the mage: I clear the game daily, by this point. For the next few months, until early June or so, I always visit Dirzir each day I go to the arcade. I know all its secret passages and I can reach the maximum experience level, easily.
Over the months, what keeps making me return to Dirzir is the place and the atmosphere: a peaceful world threatened by arrogant monsters, and four adventurers saving this poor world. By early June, my uncle sells the board without telling me: I cry and leave the arcade, when I discover this fact. One of the first games I clear again during my gap year is indeed Cadash: I cry tears of joy, after playing it for the first time. I buy the Taito Memories port in 2005, while I am in Utrecht for my Master degree, and spend quite a bit of time 1-CC’ing the Japanese harder version. It deeply moves me that I can revisit this place in a new, more challenging manner. Over the decades, Dirzir becomes a veritable locus amoenus and a sanctuary that I visit in “times of need”: home away from home, if fictional.
Let us conclude, before we end up stuck in Dirzir’s timeless beauty. Cadash is an ARPG/R2RKMF/action-platform game in which four fantasy characters must save the world from a ruthless demon/dragon-like entity, Balrog. The game features a greatly detailed story for the time and hardware constraints, fun platforming parts, interesting secrets, and a semi-linear approach to Stage progression. The game also offers different levels of difficulty via its revisions and characters. Players who want a quick and easy 1-CC can play with the ninja any non-Japanese version, while players who want a considerable challenge can see if they can clear the Japanese version with the mage. The game also offers a superb ending theme and, its simple and maybe antiquated arcade format, a truly immersive RPG experience. Dirzir and its world are pulsating, moving places: be sure to visit them as often as possible.
(3412 words, or 8.6 pages in times new roman, size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; the Japanese version has a few interesting easter eggs involving the programmers, as this page discusses. Unbelievably, I never tried to adapt this game into a tabletop RPG campaign, though I would not be able to say why I never thought about trying at least once. I admit that I cannot stand The Lord of the Rings and any of its derivatives, but I never had any problems ignoring the many references to Tolkien’s books in Cadash. I must also admit that I had a few nightmares when I saw Stage four’s dungeon for the first time. The concept of a vast underground dungeon made of tens of thousands of human skeletons freaked me out, back in the day. Finally, has anyone had at least a short crush on Salassa as the princess in distress who becomes a strong queen? Ah, young folks…).
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
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Re: RRR: Index of squibs
Particularly enjoyed beginning my week with this one, Rando-dono.
I feel like the (few) times I have come across this one online, it's been used as a bit of a whipping post for the whole "all arcade games were purely devised as quarter munchers hurr durr" revisionism that is... a lot, if not absolutely prevalent nor ubiquitous.
So to see this piece not even touch on those aspects, yet thoroughly dissect every other aspect of it; and to have come from such a position of obvious personal affection; AND to accompany BIL's poignant assessment of it as not an action title but as an exercise in meticulous efficiency... well, fuck - it just convinced me to give it a stab next time Hamhams puts it up for sale.
Spoiler
Yeah nah, it's Golden Week, so it still counts as "beginning the week"
So to see this piece not even touch on those aspects, yet thoroughly dissect every other aspect of it; and to have come from such a position of obvious personal affection; AND to accompany BIL's poignant assessment of it as not an action title but as an exercise in meticulous efficiency... well, fuck - it just convinced me to give it a stab next time Hamhams puts it up for sale.
Cadash (Taito, 1989). NEXT: Death Brade (Data East, 1991)
Thanks DW-dono.
Re: the perennial quarter-muncher topic.
My simple position on this topic is that players have agency, can develop skills and game make inferences regarding how to solve game situations. A game can be as much as a "quarter muncher" as programmers make it to be, but anyone who has brains can figure out a way how to reduce the quarter-munching to N=1 (i.e. insert coin, start, 1-CC the game, next). I do not doubt that we could write whole books of sociology, anthropology, cognitive psychology (...and so on) on why there is a certain strain of revisionism spread across the intarwebs.
Ultimately, though, I write about my own experiences with games from various personal points of view or Facets of life.
As an adult who does research for a living (in a university, I would add), I sit down and analyse games as "systems" with interacting components, and with which I have had various types of interaction. I do start from a vantage point: I always write about games I 1-CC'ed, so my understanding of these systems is usually good & robust, although not necessarily "top-tier", as in e.g. the case of people who can get top scores. I also start from another vantage point: I write research papers for a living, so offering an analysis of a system is something that by now comes to me in a relatively spontaneous manner. I do follow a template, and I will write a squib explaining the core underpinnings of this template. For now, though, I believe that I can simply clarify an obvious point: I try to explain what the building blocks of each game as a system are, and then I try to reconstruct the game by integrating these pieces into the more or less coherent whole we experience, when we play the games. It is not so different from what I do for a living, so I simply exploit a work skill in my spare time.
When I try to reconstruct my memories of the child, teen, young adult who played these games, I try to add a touch of more subjective experience so that readers can get a feeling of how one can reach this degree of knowledge, often via stubborn practice and a good amount of time. In the cute little stories, I try to recall what I was thinking when I was playing these games when I was a kid, what was motivating me to play titles that were at times immensely challenging, what motivation I received in pursuing these trivial goals from my acquaintances, and so on.
I try to intersperse nice vignettes and a certain type of "slice of life" narration with my actual memories of playing the games, also because they can offer insights on what it means to actually learn a game. At some later stage, I believe that my thoughts on these topics will be much more well-defined and perhaps even publishable, but for now I am simply pursuing an exercise in "thinking aloud" and trying to put in order all of these learning experiences that I accumulated over the decades. I am aware that game communities may prefer to debate different topics for whatever reasons individuals want to entertain, but for now such topics are immaterial to what I am trying to pursue via these squibs.
This is not a particularly coherent post, I know, but I still need a template for my more theoretical-oriented squibs. Anyway, the topic of this squib reveals immediate plans. Be sure to have some free time, for the week-end
Re: the perennial quarter-muncher topic.
My simple position on this topic is that players have agency, can develop skills and game make inferences regarding how to solve game situations. A game can be as much as a "quarter muncher" as programmers make it to be, but anyone who has brains can figure out a way how to reduce the quarter-munching to N=1 (i.e. insert coin, start, 1-CC the game, next). I do not doubt that we could write whole books of sociology, anthropology, cognitive psychology (...and so on) on why there is a certain strain of revisionism spread across the intarwebs.
Ultimately, though, I write about my own experiences with games from various personal points of view or Facets of life.
As an adult who does research for a living (in a university, I would add), I sit down and analyse games as "systems" with interacting components, and with which I have had various types of interaction. I do start from a vantage point: I always write about games I 1-CC'ed, so my understanding of these systems is usually good & robust, although not necessarily "top-tier", as in e.g. the case of people who can get top scores. I also start from another vantage point: I write research papers for a living, so offering an analysis of a system is something that by now comes to me in a relatively spontaneous manner. I do follow a template, and I will write a squib explaining the core underpinnings of this template. For now, though, I believe that I can simply clarify an obvious point: I try to explain what the building blocks of each game as a system are, and then I try to reconstruct the game by integrating these pieces into the more or less coherent whole we experience, when we play the games. It is not so different from what I do for a living, so I simply exploit a work skill in my spare time.
When I try to reconstruct my memories of the child, teen, young adult who played these games, I try to add a touch of more subjective experience so that readers can get a feeling of how one can reach this degree of knowledge, often via stubborn practice and a good amount of time. In the cute little stories, I try to recall what I was thinking when I was playing these games when I was a kid, what was motivating me to play titles that were at times immensely challenging, what motivation I received in pursuing these trivial goals from my acquaintances, and so on.
I try to intersperse nice vignettes and a certain type of "slice of life" narration with my actual memories of playing the games, also because they can offer insights on what it means to actually learn a game. At some later stage, I believe that my thoughts on these topics will be much more well-defined and perhaps even publishable, but for now I am simply pursuing an exercise in "thinking aloud" and trying to put in order all of these learning experiences that I accumulated over the decades. I am aware that game communities may prefer to debate different topics for whatever reasons individuals want to entertain, but for now such topics are immaterial to what I am trying to pursue via these squibs.
This is not a particularly coherent post, I know, but I still need a template for my more theoretical-oriented squibs. Anyway, the topic of this squib reveals immediate plans. Be sure to have some free time, for the week-end
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
Mutant Fighter/Death Brade (Data East, 1991)
Time for a change of pace: this week we temporarily move to the 1990s, the decade of well-cut genres, complex game engines and well-established game tropes. I admit that this is my idea of procrastination. I planned on writing quite a few squibs about the 1990s by the next year and to complete this year with a focus on the 1980s. To avoid getting stuck in my writing goals, I decided to “waste time” by completing a goal farther in time. It could be worse, and I could really procrastinate instead of squibbing, so I believe that I can justify myself in pursuing this approach. A better layout for plans involving squibs will appear in time, anyway.
I am in the mood for some Data East, so my readers are also going to read about Mutant Fighter/Death Brade, this week. The game has several revisions differing in rather small details (e.g. type of wrestling moves for some characters) and ports for the Super Famicom/SNES, X68k and FM towns. You can read more about this topic from the wiki link below. The gloriously dramatic premise of the game and the powerful OST are keeping me company in a tricky part of my life, once more. And thus:
Mutant Fighter/Death Brade (Data East, 1991) is a wrestling/fighting game set in an Heroic Fantasy world. Players choose one of eight characters who must wrestle their way to the final battle. If victorious, they can access the key of the kingdom hosting the tournament, hence acting as kings for a whole year, once the tournament runs again. The game offers a side perspective, gorgeous if a bit rough graphics, and a dramatic, epic OST that features the trademark Data East synthesizers and sound effects. The game also possibly introduces the first attempt of a Desperation Move as an attack option, voice acting for each selectable character. It also provides an hilarious homage to The Exorcist and Mesopotamian mythology in the form of the demon Pazuzu. The goal of this squib is to convince readers that, “quirks” notwithstanding, the game is a glorious variant of late 1980s/early 1990s wrestling games.
The context in which the game appears may not be obvious, at first glance of the year of release. 1991 was the year of Capcom’s Street Fighter II, so the presence of other fighting games on the market might have appeared irrelevant to most players. However, during the 1980s, a few wrestling games appeared in arcade that tried to offer the feeling of Japanese and/or American wrestling in some early form. Technōs released Mat Mania in 1985, as a rudimentary though interesting game focusing on JWA-style characters. Konami and Taito offered their attempts in 1988 and 1989 with The Main Event and Champion Wrestler, respectively. Technōs released two titles on a WWFlicense, WWF Superstars and WWF Wrestlefest; SNK released the two King of the Monsters titles. Wrestling was an interesting micro-genre in sports/arcade games; fantasy was also a trendy videogame setting, in this period (cf. the Cadash squib).
Data East thus released this title along with a few other forays into the genre (e.g. Dark Seal and Dark Seal II, the obscure Hippodrome, Dragon Gun). The game’s premise should be rooted in some obscure fantasy short story of which I forgot the origins, so I will not mention it. The premise is also simple: every year, an unnamed fantasy kingdom decides who will be the king by hosting a fighting tournament in which any creature can join. Fights are without any limitations: magicians can weave spells, non-human creatures like hydras, dragons and demons can participate, and only the strongest fighter may triumph. Under these conditions, players can choose one of eight fighters and 1-CC the game if they can defeat other six fighters, a doppelganger creature, a demon and an archimage. The game thus provides a standard tournament plot, though coated in rich Heroic Fantasy setting.
The game’s mechanics are also simple. Players control characters via the joystick, moving them along the rings in eight directions. The A button controls punches, and the B button controls kicks. Players can perform three-hit combos by tapping either button repeatedly, and can also parry receiving hits (press and hold A+B buttons). Characters can then grab adversaries once the sprites collide and tap either button to start a wrestling challenge. If players can press the button enough times during a key time window, their character wins the challenge. It thus performs a wrestling move based on the button plus the input direction (e.g. A+down, B+up-right). If the CPU wins the challenge, the character will instead be on the receiving end. Characters rise from the floor faster if players press buttons and wiggle the joystick; pressing either A or B next to a knocked down opponent results in a floor strike.
The game’s central innovation consists in the “super throw”. Characters accumulate energy for this move every time they perform a wrestling move, hit an adversary with a strike, or receive damage. Receiving damage increases energy at double the speed: the super-move acts as a devastating defensive move to perform to reverse fortunes in a match. Characters can knock down adversaries via wrestling moves but also by landing the third of any punch- or kick-based combo, and can use environmental hazards to add damage (e.g. the lateral spikes on Stages five, eight). Players must carefully choose characters (Warrior/Michael, Amazoness/Cindy, “Hercules”/Pon, Minotaur/Shankar, Werewolf/Boggy, Beast/Flea, Golem/Bodga, Dragon/Joseph) and wrestling moves: the CPU decides the victor of a challenge depending on character and input move. Players can also tap twice in a direction to make their characters run and possibly perform charge/jumping moves that usually knock down adversaries.
As we now have a compact grasp of the game’s mechanics, we can move to a discussion of its aesthetic presentation. Mutant Fighter/Death Brade is one of Data East’s early games released on their erstwhile new hardware (read here). Graphics are highly detailed and sprites are big and colourful, even if animation frames might have been richer. Some characters (e.g. Golem/Bogda, Doppelganger/Behoroi and Dragon/Joseph) do have an aura of choppiness about their movements. Backgrounds are however impressive, and summon the atmosphere of a rich if decadent fantasy kingdom. Stage four takes place on a floating ring: the background image scrolling in the background seems reminiscent of the Seven bridges of Köningsberg classical graph problem. The use of super-throws allows players to glimpse into the aerial parts of each arena, often rendered via complex graphic effects (e.g. parallax on Stage nine, the archimage/Ginga’s pocket dimension). The game looks brutally beautiful.
The OST is also brutally beautiful, even if it features just a few themes. Data East’s Gamadelic stalwart Hiroaki Yoshida and then greenhorn Akira Takemoto produced a mix of jazzy/smooth synth pieces with almost baroque fantasy-flavoured sounds. Stages one, two and three feature Flash Song, a synth-pop piece with an epic undertone that highlights the dramatic nature of the fight. Stages four, five and six include Dance in the Ring, a piece combining moody sophisti-pop sounds with a jazzy refrain. Stage seven’s Fight against self might be a song straight out of a horror movie, like the much faster-paced, almost jungle-like Trascendence Desperate Struggle on Stage eight. Notably, each character has a distinct voice actor offering grunts, super-throw comments and winning statements (e.g. Dragon/Joseph’s “I am the victor, now!”). The game thus offers a superb aural experience an intense visual rendition of a fantasy world whose foundations rest on constant fighting.
Let us now turn to a discussion of the difficulty. The game revolves around game mechanics, Stage layout/design, and the game external set-up, i.e. whether players use auto-fire or not. Stage layouts/arenas offer a minimal form of difficulty by offering environmental hazards, e.g. pistons throwing fighters in the air on Stage three. Once players quickly learn how to manage these hazards, arenas play a marginal role in fights. Game mechanics also require some practice: players must learn how to use 3-hit combos to cause knock down, and which wrestling moves work best again each enemy. Learning characters’ weak points should also offer a minimal challenge. For instance, Golem/Bodga is a slow but devastating character. Players must always use wrestling moves if they use Golem/Bodga as their character, and must always keep a distance if facing it as an adversary. Boss characters (Hydra/Charlie, Demon/Pazuzu, Doppelganger/Behoroi, Archimage/Cronus) require their specific strategies.
The game-external factors play a prominent role, and may lead some players to disregard the game and its design due to a perceived unfairness or lack of balance, I believe. Allow me to explain: if players activate auto-fire on the attack buttons, the use of wrestling moves becomes more immediate. At 8hz auto-fire frequency or higher, there is not risk that missing the right “tapping window” results in the loss of a wrestling challenge. With auto-fire, players must tap fast and get the timing right, as it is the case in all wrestling arcade games. Furthermore, tapping windows restrict in number of frames up to Stage eight, the fight against Pazuzu, and become moderately easier against Ginga, the archimage. The game can thus become tricky to handle without the use of auto-fire, or a superb tapping technique; players may only use 3-hit combos, on Stages seven and eight.
I thus propose that Stage layout/design motivates a 1/5 difficulty value assignment, game mechanics a 6/15 value assignment, and external factors a 14/30 assignment. The grand total is 21/50 difficulty points, or just 7/50 points if players use auto-fire. Mutant Fighter/Death Brade is a low-tier game for expert players who forgo the use of auto-fire, but a mid-high tier game for beginner players who use this game-external option. Interestingly, all selectable characters differ considerably in their abilities (e.g. Amazoness/Cindy and Golem/Bogda are opposites). However, fights tend to be rather balanced: players must ultimately choose wrestling moves wisely and tap fast. The game thus also works well as a “vs. wrestling” type of game. Players who wish to pursue a 1-CC, however, must keep in mind that the game shares the same design quirk present in approximately all games in this genre (e.g. SNK’s King of the Monsters duology, for sure).
Let us wrap this squib with Xenny’s favourite part: my experiences with the game (whoops! Xenny, you cheeky ol’ bugger! Do not hiss at me, the queen of your hive loves these bits!). It is late October 1991 and I am a successful junior high school student who also has been playing tabletop RPGs for a while. When playing Data East’s Dark Seal the year before, I have become acquainted with a group of university students who promote a “cultural club” involving all kinds of extremely nerdy past-times. One can spend evenings playing RPGs like TSR’s D&D, Talsorian’s Cyberpunk 2020 and Chaosium’s Call of Chtulhu, among others. The club also has a considerable library of comics, manga, Bandes Dessinées and possibly thousands of Fantasy and Science Fiction books. My father pays my fee and his, but he plays 20th century War games like Advanced Squad Leader (ok, and Warhammer 40k).
I also attend regularly my uncle’s arcade, even if I am not really into the Street Fighter II craze. My father keeps me on a precise budget for gaming practice, so playing a vs. game, and blowing my allowance in a few minutes is not a wise option. My 2025 self thinks that my 1991 self is growing in a sort of “hyper-nerd/geek bubble” that would perhaps be the envy of most first world kids in the 2020s. My 1991 self is unaware of this blissful pond of luck, even if he is happy that “free time” involves intellectually challenging hobbies. My uncle thinks that I am growing a bit soft, and tells me that he has two new games from the “working class hero” company: Mutant Fighter/Death Brade and Robocop II. TumblePop, Capcom’s King of the Dragons and my geek friend are going to enter my life soon, too.
During October 1991, I spend plenty of time playing these two titles. Robocop 2 is an easy title and capitulates easily: I can clear it with ease, and even learn how to clear it with one life. Mutant Fighter/Death Brade remains a mystery to me, however. I understand that it works like other wrestling games, so tapping fast is a necessary skill. Nevertheless, I keep getting the impression that from Stage five or six onwards, I must develop unnatural tapping speed to perform wrestling moves. I renounce getting a carpal tunnel syndrome and learn how to use 3-hit combos and floor hits, even if this strategy forces me to fight against the clock, too. Unless I use the Golem guy, this approach is too slow to avoid timing out. Still, the game’s music and atmosphere are absolutely mesmerising: I wish that I could play an RPG campaign like this game.
By November I prefer to visit other fantasy worlds, as you can read from my TumblePop squib. Nevertheless, the soundtrack echoes in my head every time I come back from the club and walk through the dark, narrow, and snow-ridden alleys of my medieval hometown. By January, though, I renounce to clearing this game with one credit. It is only in 2013 or 2014 that I “re-discover” the game on MAME, in a period in which I have basically renounced to playing games for the 1-CC. By chance, I figure out that I can use auto-fire to turn the game in an affordable 1-CC challenge, thus laying a 23-years old grudge to rest. Over the years, whenever I feel that a formidable challenges looms ahead, I launch the game and land a quick 1-CC, if only to immerse myself in the game’s eerie and moody OST.
In conclusion, Mutant Fighter/Death Brade is a wrestling/fighting game with a Heroic Fantasy setting and quite dark undertones. The game features beautiful and evocative aesthetics though some choppily animated characters, and a gloriously dramatic OST with cheeky voice acting and sound effects. As it seems to be the case with most arcade wrestling games, the game’s difficulty heavily hinges on how players approach tapping to win wrestling challenges. Players can thus resort to the use of auto-fire if they want to avoid carpal tunnel syndrome and stress induced by a remarkably quirky genre-specific game mechanic. This strategy may not work for those obsessed on playing games on default settings, of course, but moral conundrums on auto-fire fall beyond the scope of our squibs. Quirks notwithstanding, the game is one of many Data East’s many titles offering a glorious if perhaps flawed arcade experience.
(2234 words, or 5.6 pages, times new roman size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; a Dungeon Master that acted as my impromptu mentor in the 1991-1993 period observed that this game would have translated into a rather poor RPG campaign. Most Fantasy RPGs of the time, among other aspects/Facets, usually had remarkably poor rules for hand-to-hand combat. A possibility is that in most Fantasy books/stories, protagonists mostly swing awesome swords or cast incredible spells, or even both, except for Robert Howard’s Conan and some other protagonists. At any case, I always felt that the whole plot was a metaphor that Data East proposed to lampoon modern politics: “fight for the sceptre so the masses rejoice; however, the viziers will rule the country in the shadows!”. Please insert here your exceedingly venomous comment, as a coda.)
I am in the mood for some Data East, so my readers are also going to read about Mutant Fighter/Death Brade, this week. The game has several revisions differing in rather small details (e.g. type of wrestling moves for some characters) and ports for the Super Famicom/SNES, X68k and FM towns. You can read more about this topic from the wiki link below. The gloriously dramatic premise of the game and the powerful OST are keeping me company in a tricky part of my life, once more. And thus:
Mutant Fighter/Death Brade (Data East, 1991) is a wrestling/fighting game set in an Heroic Fantasy world. Players choose one of eight characters who must wrestle their way to the final battle. If victorious, they can access the key of the kingdom hosting the tournament, hence acting as kings for a whole year, once the tournament runs again. The game offers a side perspective, gorgeous if a bit rough graphics, and a dramatic, epic OST that features the trademark Data East synthesizers and sound effects. The game also possibly introduces the first attempt of a Desperation Move as an attack option, voice acting for each selectable character. It also provides an hilarious homage to The Exorcist and Mesopotamian mythology in the form of the demon Pazuzu. The goal of this squib is to convince readers that, “quirks” notwithstanding, the game is a glorious variant of late 1980s/early 1990s wrestling games.
The context in which the game appears may not be obvious, at first glance of the year of release. 1991 was the year of Capcom’s Street Fighter II, so the presence of other fighting games on the market might have appeared irrelevant to most players. However, during the 1980s, a few wrestling games appeared in arcade that tried to offer the feeling of Japanese and/or American wrestling in some early form. Technōs released Mat Mania in 1985, as a rudimentary though interesting game focusing on JWA-style characters. Konami and Taito offered their attempts in 1988 and 1989 with The Main Event and Champion Wrestler, respectively. Technōs released two titles on a WWFlicense, WWF Superstars and WWF Wrestlefest; SNK released the two King of the Monsters titles. Wrestling was an interesting micro-genre in sports/arcade games; fantasy was also a trendy videogame setting, in this period (cf. the Cadash squib).
Data East thus released this title along with a few other forays into the genre (e.g. Dark Seal and Dark Seal II, the obscure Hippodrome, Dragon Gun). The game’s premise should be rooted in some obscure fantasy short story of which I forgot the origins, so I will not mention it. The premise is also simple: every year, an unnamed fantasy kingdom decides who will be the king by hosting a fighting tournament in which any creature can join. Fights are without any limitations: magicians can weave spells, non-human creatures like hydras, dragons and demons can participate, and only the strongest fighter may triumph. Under these conditions, players can choose one of eight fighters and 1-CC the game if they can defeat other six fighters, a doppelganger creature, a demon and an archimage. The game thus provides a standard tournament plot, though coated in rich Heroic Fantasy setting.
The game’s mechanics are also simple. Players control characters via the joystick, moving them along the rings in eight directions. The A button controls punches, and the B button controls kicks. Players can perform three-hit combos by tapping either button repeatedly, and can also parry receiving hits (press and hold A+B buttons). Characters can then grab adversaries once the sprites collide and tap either button to start a wrestling challenge. If players can press the button enough times during a key time window, their character wins the challenge. It thus performs a wrestling move based on the button plus the input direction (e.g. A+down, B+up-right). If the CPU wins the challenge, the character will instead be on the receiving end. Characters rise from the floor faster if players press buttons and wiggle the joystick; pressing either A or B next to a knocked down opponent results in a floor strike.
The game’s central innovation consists in the “super throw”. Characters accumulate energy for this move every time they perform a wrestling move, hit an adversary with a strike, or receive damage. Receiving damage increases energy at double the speed: the super-move acts as a devastating defensive move to perform to reverse fortunes in a match. Characters can knock down adversaries via wrestling moves but also by landing the third of any punch- or kick-based combo, and can use environmental hazards to add damage (e.g. the lateral spikes on Stages five, eight). Players must carefully choose characters (Warrior/Michael, Amazoness/Cindy, “Hercules”/Pon, Minotaur/Shankar, Werewolf/Boggy, Beast/Flea, Golem/Bodga, Dragon/Joseph) and wrestling moves: the CPU decides the victor of a challenge depending on character and input move. Players can also tap twice in a direction to make their characters run and possibly perform charge/jumping moves that usually knock down adversaries.
As we now have a compact grasp of the game’s mechanics, we can move to a discussion of its aesthetic presentation. Mutant Fighter/Death Brade is one of Data East’s early games released on their erstwhile new hardware (read here). Graphics are highly detailed and sprites are big and colourful, even if animation frames might have been richer. Some characters (e.g. Golem/Bogda, Doppelganger/Behoroi and Dragon/Joseph) do have an aura of choppiness about their movements. Backgrounds are however impressive, and summon the atmosphere of a rich if decadent fantasy kingdom. Stage four takes place on a floating ring: the background image scrolling in the background seems reminiscent of the Seven bridges of Köningsberg classical graph problem. The use of super-throws allows players to glimpse into the aerial parts of each arena, often rendered via complex graphic effects (e.g. parallax on Stage nine, the archimage/Ginga’s pocket dimension). The game looks brutally beautiful.
The OST is also brutally beautiful, even if it features just a few themes. Data East’s Gamadelic stalwart Hiroaki Yoshida and then greenhorn Akira Takemoto produced a mix of jazzy/smooth synth pieces with almost baroque fantasy-flavoured sounds. Stages one, two and three feature Flash Song, a synth-pop piece with an epic undertone that highlights the dramatic nature of the fight. Stages four, five and six include Dance in the Ring, a piece combining moody sophisti-pop sounds with a jazzy refrain. Stage seven’s Fight against self might be a song straight out of a horror movie, like the much faster-paced, almost jungle-like Trascendence Desperate Struggle on Stage eight. Notably, each character has a distinct voice actor offering grunts, super-throw comments and winning statements (e.g. Dragon/Joseph’s “I am the victor, now!”). The game thus offers a superb aural experience an intense visual rendition of a fantasy world whose foundations rest on constant fighting.
Let us now turn to a discussion of the difficulty. The game revolves around game mechanics, Stage layout/design, and the game external set-up, i.e. whether players use auto-fire or not. Stage layouts/arenas offer a minimal form of difficulty by offering environmental hazards, e.g. pistons throwing fighters in the air on Stage three. Once players quickly learn how to manage these hazards, arenas play a marginal role in fights. Game mechanics also require some practice: players must learn how to use 3-hit combos to cause knock down, and which wrestling moves work best again each enemy. Learning characters’ weak points should also offer a minimal challenge. For instance, Golem/Bodga is a slow but devastating character. Players must always use wrestling moves if they use Golem/Bodga as their character, and must always keep a distance if facing it as an adversary. Boss characters (Hydra/Charlie, Demon/Pazuzu, Doppelganger/Behoroi, Archimage/Cronus) require their specific strategies.
The game-external factors play a prominent role, and may lead some players to disregard the game and its design due to a perceived unfairness or lack of balance, I believe. Allow me to explain: if players activate auto-fire on the attack buttons, the use of wrestling moves becomes more immediate. At 8hz auto-fire frequency or higher, there is not risk that missing the right “tapping window” results in the loss of a wrestling challenge. With auto-fire, players must tap fast and get the timing right, as it is the case in all wrestling arcade games. Furthermore, tapping windows restrict in number of frames up to Stage eight, the fight against Pazuzu, and become moderately easier against Ginga, the archimage. The game can thus become tricky to handle without the use of auto-fire, or a superb tapping technique; players may only use 3-hit combos, on Stages seven and eight.
I thus propose that Stage layout/design motivates a 1/5 difficulty value assignment, game mechanics a 6/15 value assignment, and external factors a 14/30 assignment. The grand total is 21/50 difficulty points, or just 7/50 points if players use auto-fire. Mutant Fighter/Death Brade is a low-tier game for expert players who forgo the use of auto-fire, but a mid-high tier game for beginner players who use this game-external option. Interestingly, all selectable characters differ considerably in their abilities (e.g. Amazoness/Cindy and Golem/Bogda are opposites). However, fights tend to be rather balanced: players must ultimately choose wrestling moves wisely and tap fast. The game thus also works well as a “vs. wrestling” type of game. Players who wish to pursue a 1-CC, however, must keep in mind that the game shares the same design quirk present in approximately all games in this genre (e.g. SNK’s King of the Monsters duology, for sure).
Let us wrap this squib with Xenny’s favourite part: my experiences with the game (whoops! Xenny, you cheeky ol’ bugger! Do not hiss at me, the queen of your hive loves these bits!). It is late October 1991 and I am a successful junior high school student who also has been playing tabletop RPGs for a while. When playing Data East’s Dark Seal the year before, I have become acquainted with a group of university students who promote a “cultural club” involving all kinds of extremely nerdy past-times. One can spend evenings playing RPGs like TSR’s D&D, Talsorian’s Cyberpunk 2020 and Chaosium’s Call of Chtulhu, among others. The club also has a considerable library of comics, manga, Bandes Dessinées and possibly thousands of Fantasy and Science Fiction books. My father pays my fee and his, but he plays 20th century War games like Advanced Squad Leader (ok, and Warhammer 40k).
I also attend regularly my uncle’s arcade, even if I am not really into the Street Fighter II craze. My father keeps me on a precise budget for gaming practice, so playing a vs. game, and blowing my allowance in a few minutes is not a wise option. My 2025 self thinks that my 1991 self is growing in a sort of “hyper-nerd/geek bubble” that would perhaps be the envy of most first world kids in the 2020s. My 1991 self is unaware of this blissful pond of luck, even if he is happy that “free time” involves intellectually challenging hobbies. My uncle thinks that I am growing a bit soft, and tells me that he has two new games from the “working class hero” company: Mutant Fighter/Death Brade and Robocop II. TumblePop, Capcom’s King of the Dragons and my geek friend are going to enter my life soon, too.
During October 1991, I spend plenty of time playing these two titles. Robocop 2 is an easy title and capitulates easily: I can clear it with ease, and even learn how to clear it with one life. Mutant Fighter/Death Brade remains a mystery to me, however. I understand that it works like other wrestling games, so tapping fast is a necessary skill. Nevertheless, I keep getting the impression that from Stage five or six onwards, I must develop unnatural tapping speed to perform wrestling moves. I renounce getting a carpal tunnel syndrome and learn how to use 3-hit combos and floor hits, even if this strategy forces me to fight against the clock, too. Unless I use the Golem guy, this approach is too slow to avoid timing out. Still, the game’s music and atmosphere are absolutely mesmerising: I wish that I could play an RPG campaign like this game.
By November I prefer to visit other fantasy worlds, as you can read from my TumblePop squib. Nevertheless, the soundtrack echoes in my head every time I come back from the club and walk through the dark, narrow, and snow-ridden alleys of my medieval hometown. By January, though, I renounce to clearing this game with one credit. It is only in 2013 or 2014 that I “re-discover” the game on MAME, in a period in which I have basically renounced to playing games for the 1-CC. By chance, I figure out that I can use auto-fire to turn the game in an affordable 1-CC challenge, thus laying a 23-years old grudge to rest. Over the years, whenever I feel that a formidable challenges looms ahead, I launch the game and land a quick 1-CC, if only to immerse myself in the game’s eerie and moody OST.
In conclusion, Mutant Fighter/Death Brade is a wrestling/fighting game with a Heroic Fantasy setting and quite dark undertones. The game features beautiful and evocative aesthetics though some choppily animated characters, and a gloriously dramatic OST with cheeky voice acting and sound effects. As it seems to be the case with most arcade wrestling games, the game’s difficulty heavily hinges on how players approach tapping to win wrestling challenges. Players can thus resort to the use of auto-fire if they want to avoid carpal tunnel syndrome and stress induced by a remarkably quirky genre-specific game mechanic. This strategy may not work for those obsessed on playing games on default settings, of course, but moral conundrums on auto-fire fall beyond the scope of our squibs. Quirks notwithstanding, the game is one of many Data East’s many titles offering a glorious if perhaps flawed arcade experience.
(2234 words, or 5.6 pages, times new roman size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; a Dungeon Master that acted as my impromptu mentor in the 1991-1993 period observed that this game would have translated into a rather poor RPG campaign. Most Fantasy RPGs of the time, among other aspects/Facets, usually had remarkably poor rules for hand-to-hand combat. A possibility is that in most Fantasy books/stories, protagonists mostly swing awesome swords or cast incredible spells, or even both, except for Robert Howard’s Conan and some other protagonists. At any case, I always felt that the whole plot was a metaphor that Data East proposed to lampoon modern politics: “fight for the sceptre so the masses rejoice; however, the viziers will rule the country in the shadows!”. Please insert here your exceedingly venomous comment, as a coda.)
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
Punk Shot (Konami, 1990)
In this squib we focus on Punk Shot, a Konami game that has seen a recent release on Arcade Archives but that was on my “to-do list of squibs” for 2026. I decided to anticipate the release of the squib for the simple reason that it may attract more readers in this way. I will be focusing on the Eu(rope)/J(a)P(an) version, which plays in a more streamlined manner, and briefly explain why the US version mostly plays like a veritable quarter-muncher. The game comes in four- and two-player variants, even if the four-players variant is for the US version only. The game is in equal parts obscure and brilliant, though this fact will become once we travel though our squib’s pathways. Thus:
Punk Shot (Konami, 1990) is a basketball game with several aspects borrowed from fighting games. Players control a pair of street thugs who play/fight street basketball against other pairs of thugs, across a city vaguely resembling the Bronx. The prize is, of course, becoming the new kings of street basketball and rightfully claim bragging rights about it. The game thus mixes street basketball rules and fighting moves (e.g. uppercuts, German suplexes) into an unholy but hilarious combination. The US master version of the game seems the “US 4-players” version, in which up to four players can slug/dunk it out during four quarters of hilarious violence. The EU and JP versions only involve a 2-player co-op system, but feature a mini-tournament to determine “who’s the strongest”. My goal in this squib is to convince my readers that this is an obscure little gem and a solid if simple sports title.
Let us start with a bit of context, as always. In the late 1980s to early 1990s, several sports games followed the leading examples of Technōs’ Kunio-kun series and combined well-known sports with fighting games. The result was a flurry of console games (e.g. the many sports/dodgeball games in the Kunio-kun franchise) and arcade games (e.g. Taito’s Football Champ) mixing sports and brawls. Many of these mixed “beat’em ups meet sports games” tend to involve special shots and strategies that involve the knocking down of enem…ahem, rivals from opposite teams to score points. For instance, Midway’s Arch Rivals and Pig Skin 621 AD are basketball and rugby games in which punching the adversary is a basic technique. SNK’s Soccer Brawl and Data East Heavy Smash combine (association) football and handball with cybernetic augmentations and super-shots. Punk Shot, in this regard, represents Konami’s foray into an erstwhile vaguely popular micro-genre.
The game’s plot and setting are rather simple, even though they apply to the two non-US versions. Five teams (Ramblers, Slammers, Wanderers, Jammers, East Enders) contend the title of the toughest, meanest couple of street basketball bastards. To see which pair can cut the mustard and become the kings of street basketball in “da Bronx”, the pairs play brutal vs. matches of two minutes each, no holds barred. The survivors of these bone-breaking matches get the champions’ crown. In the US version, there is no “real plot”: players play a match of four against the CPU or other players after choosing one of three random locations (“the Park”, “the Docks”, “the Slums”). Whoever wins the match is the winner, of course, but no other background information is present. Punk Shot thus has a minimal if hilariously appropriate low-life, thug life and therefore properly punk setting.
The game’s mechanics are equally simple. Players control the characters “Spike” the mohawk punk and “Hair” the Afro punk on the 1(one)P(layer) side; “Basher” the googles punk and “Stallion” the peni…hat punk on the 2P side. Characters move in eight directions on courts presented in a side view. The A button controls passing shots when a character carries the ball, and the B button controls dunk/distance shots with ball in hand. Players can then use the A button to attack adversaries if without the ball, and jump/block shots with the B button. Characters normally execute a three-hit combo when decking an adversary: punch, kick in the gonads, roundhouse kick in the parietal lobe. Characters can perform these moves without hitting enemies/adversaries: if the roundhouse kick connects, advers-enemies go down in pain. Players can also hit environmental/Stage hazards (e.g. pigeons, falling cargo containers) to remove the hazards from the court.
Players can then press A+B button and input a diving direction (e.g. left, right, up-left, down-right) to either shoulder-charge or German-suplex adversaries. Shoulder charges require less precision to connect, but floor adversaries for a shorter amount of time. German suplexes slam the sorry bastards/adversaries on the floor for roughly three seconds, even if characters require a few frames to get up. There are no three pointers (courts, are, well, basic) and no fouls, of course: players are supposed to belt the adversaries. Stages provide various environmental/court hazards of various degrees of zaniness and disruption of the game flow. For instance, “The Docks” stage features a sewer hole in which characters can fall in, and a ship container squashing the characters for a few seconds. Court hazards are easy to handle or avoid, but provide comedic occasions and easy scoring chances, if properly exploited.
The various revisions differ in how they handle the matches. In the US versions, four or two players play a single match of four quarters of three minutes each. Players have an energy bar and will “die” before the end of the match if they do not score enough points (i.e. it is a “score or die” game). After a single match, an ending score celebrating the winners appears. In the JP and EU versions, players control the Wanderers and play five matches against the other teams. A “special team” appears after four matches, to determine who is the meanest couple of punks on the streets. Matches amount to one quarter of two minutes, and only winning the match will guarantee that players advance to the next match. These versions lack energy bars: players must simply win matches and possibly hospitalize the other punks/adversaries as a result.
The game’s audio-visual presentation is highly appropriate in its simplicity. Stages are bright and colorful in their design and thus highlight in a wonderful manner the dirty and grimy places in which characters ply their foul trade. All characters have a thuggish, punkish, and cocky appearance that would aptly qualify them as mid-tier cannon fodder on Konami’s brawlers Crime Fighters and Crime Fighters II/Vendetta. The ref lady (yes, there is a ref and she is a lady) looks like a goth/dark fan: black leather dress, jeans, shades, and rollerblades. Stages are full of small, zany animated details and humorous ideas (e.g. the kid watching the matches on a BMX bike). After each round, the losers appear in mugshots displaying swollen eyes and broken cheeks; winners are grinners, of course. The game might feature bright colours but exudes staggeringly robust amounts of irony and grime in equal parts.
The OST also matches this atmosphere in a simple but certainly appropriate manner. The soundtrack by Kukeiha club member Norio Hanzawa offers three themes, one per court, plus a few more themes for intermissions and cutscenes. The heavy sample-oriented, hip-hop/funk-flavoured themes would certainly feel appropriate in an urban-themed movie of the theme. The Slums is a high-hat, voice samples and drumbeat extravaganza. In the Park would be perfect as a base for one of early Gang Starr’s albums, or perhaps a Stevie Wonder collaboration with Spike Lee (e.g. Jungle Fever). A Wharf and the other tunes (e.g. Go Punks, the ending theme) continue along these splendidly late 1980s jazz/funk/punk/hip-hop (i.e. “urban”) soundscapes, thus absolutely nailing the right atmosphere for the game. The game’s various Facets may appear simple in design, but they are spectacularly appropriate to the underlying theme and setting: Punk Shot is a little gem of game design.
We can now move to a discussion of the game’s difficulty, which unsurprisingly revolves around two simple Facets: game mechanics and Stages layout/design. We can divide the standard 50 points in halves of 25 points, as per assumptions that are now standard in our squibs. Players must master the timing and usefulness of attacks when characters are without the ball, and the timing of dunks and shots with ball in hand. Players must then learn to time their attacks so that adversaries hit the floor approximately at the same time. Bastards/adversaries recover faster from injuries on latter stages and are almost immediately up on the final stage. Be sure to knock both punks at the same time to score free points and avoid last-frame blocks from suddenly active players, thus. Also, remember that active enemies can German-suplex your characters as well: enemies quivering with broken spines, not bloody likely so.
Environmental hazards provide a few more difficulty points. Crucially, environmental hazards activate at different times of a match. For instance, the “pigeon attack” in the park starts at around one minute of gaming time, and players can rip the pigeon a new one if necessary. Furthermore, adversaries can fumble and lose their momentum due to these hazards/events. If players are in control of the score and know how the handle the events, then they may even provide an occasion to pile up a few more points of misery of the losers/adversary team. I thus propose that game mechanics make up 5/25 difficulty points, and Stage layout/design 3/25 points, for a total of 8/50 points. Players will find the game a mid-upper tier game for beginners until the last stage, and spend a few credits master the very fast but manageable final bastards. After that, it is an easy, satisfying 1-CC.
Let us move to the final part of the squib: a discussion of my experiences with the game. Simple, they will be; entertaining, I hope so. It is November 1991 and I have just switched from DECO’s Mutant Fighter/Death Brade[/i] and Robocop II to Tumblepop and Capcom’s King of the Dragons. I enjoy playing these games, and my co-op partner in crime is a great supporting mate, often telling me to STFU and pipe down when playing games. Nevertheless, from time to time I notice people playing some game in the dark corner of the East-side room of the lower floor, in my uncle’s arcade. I hear loud cheers, other stranger noises, school-boy banter from grown adults and I cannot help notice that the cab is next to the toilet. My uncle has clearly designed this layout for some wicked intent that only him could have entertained.
By the end of November, I summon the courage to get close to the cab and figure out what the game might be. Still shy, I remain close to the Data East’s Batman pinball and peep some people playing the game. It looks like a basketball game, a sport which I do not like, but it has this cool Stevie Wonder-sounding soundtrack which I like. The guys playing the game are notorious customers of the arcade. They have a car customisation business and love making all kinds of more-or-less legal modifications to car, at rather convenient prices indeed. They also drive my uncle crazy by clearing games days within their releases: they have finished this remarkably hard game, Toaplan’s Truxton, with panache. My uncle signed a truce with them: they GTFO the game after completing it once, and reset the board without complaining, or they will meet the monkey wrench.
The guys see that I am very shily peeping their runs and tell me that they do not bite: I am not a woman, after all. A bizarre conversation ensues, with me stuttering copiously and them explaining the game to me while laughing with mirth and an excessive display of shark-like grins. They offer me a credit to try the game: my uncle from behind comments that the end is near, because the “Grease Brothers” are not supposed to have mercy against other players. They teach me the basics and are quite satisfied with me reaching Stage three at first try. Over the next two weeks, I meet their lofty expectations by learning how to beat all teams with one credit. Over the next few weeks, the game’s zaniness and hilariously cheap violence becomes popular among arcade regulars, and the game starts attracting small crowds focusing on the vs. mode.
My game mate and I launch the idea of doing score compos: the pairs who can clear the game dunking the most points win the competition. The Grease Brothers enjoy the game’s notoriety and fabled seediness. Quite a few country bumpkin kids from the mountains play it too, since it involves “punching” with one rather than six buttons. A few times we also play one vs. one matches, and my co-op mate and I form a fierce rivalry with these unibrow hulking twins from a village inside the nearby National Park. One day tempers flare after a particularly tense match, and we risk a scuffle: the unibrow twins think that we are cheating because we are very fast in performing German suplexes. Once I explain to them, in flawless local dialect, how to use the suplex successfully and in a brutally swift manner, the twins become our gaming “disciples”.
We do not continue this story here: your scribe is a veritable bastard and this squib deserves some dodgy narration, indeed. To recap: Punk Shot is a basketball game mixing a “street”, two-on-two version of the game with belt scroller/beat’em up elements. Players can punch adversaries and score points happily; if they win five matches as a result, they become the kings of street basketball in the Bronx. The player represents a perhaps obscure and low-brow entry in Konami’s 1980s/1990s arcade catalogue, but it is also well-designed and highly entertained, especially when played against human adversaries. Players who thus appreciate arcade sports games with a certain “brawling” component typical of the era should enjoy the game, indeed. Be sure to try Punk Shot out in the JP/EU versions, and have fun dunking and duking it out against buddies/pals/mates/etc. Just be sure to bring ice packs, in case “arguments” start over.
(2226 words, or 5.6 pages in times new roman, size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; The Grease Brothers are highly respected and nice guys who participate every year in the Paris-Dakar rally. Their business was and still is legitimate, as car customisation is perfectly legal in Italy as far as modifications respect law requirements. They are also authorities regarding car antiques, especially Lancia and Lotus models. I prefer not to mention their names explicitly: anonymity and so on. They were the kind of people that you would hear them before seeing them: their powerful belly laughter would resonate as soon as they would enter the shops gallery. The unibrow twins will return in the Wolf Fang/Rohga squib and in a few other squibs, too; I can anticipate that they started addressing me as Mae’(stro), short for ‘master/teacher’, afterwards. So, stay tuned!)
Punk Shot (Konami, 1990) is a basketball game with several aspects borrowed from fighting games. Players control a pair of street thugs who play/fight street basketball against other pairs of thugs, across a city vaguely resembling the Bronx. The prize is, of course, becoming the new kings of street basketball and rightfully claim bragging rights about it. The game thus mixes street basketball rules and fighting moves (e.g. uppercuts, German suplexes) into an unholy but hilarious combination. The US master version of the game seems the “US 4-players” version, in which up to four players can slug/dunk it out during four quarters of hilarious violence. The EU and JP versions only involve a 2-player co-op system, but feature a mini-tournament to determine “who’s the strongest”. My goal in this squib is to convince my readers that this is an obscure little gem and a solid if simple sports title.
Let us start with a bit of context, as always. In the late 1980s to early 1990s, several sports games followed the leading examples of Technōs’ Kunio-kun series and combined well-known sports with fighting games. The result was a flurry of console games (e.g. the many sports/dodgeball games in the Kunio-kun franchise) and arcade games (e.g. Taito’s Football Champ) mixing sports and brawls. Many of these mixed “beat’em ups meet sports games” tend to involve special shots and strategies that involve the knocking down of enem…ahem, rivals from opposite teams to score points. For instance, Midway’s Arch Rivals and Pig Skin 621 AD are basketball and rugby games in which punching the adversary is a basic technique. SNK’s Soccer Brawl and Data East Heavy Smash combine (association) football and handball with cybernetic augmentations and super-shots. Punk Shot, in this regard, represents Konami’s foray into an erstwhile vaguely popular micro-genre.
The game’s plot and setting are rather simple, even though they apply to the two non-US versions. Five teams (Ramblers, Slammers, Wanderers, Jammers, East Enders) contend the title of the toughest, meanest couple of street basketball bastards. To see which pair can cut the mustard and become the kings of street basketball in “da Bronx”, the pairs play brutal vs. matches of two minutes each, no holds barred. The survivors of these bone-breaking matches get the champions’ crown. In the US version, there is no “real plot”: players play a match of four against the CPU or other players after choosing one of three random locations (“the Park”, “the Docks”, “the Slums”). Whoever wins the match is the winner, of course, but no other background information is present. Punk Shot thus has a minimal if hilariously appropriate low-life, thug life and therefore properly punk setting.
The game’s mechanics are equally simple. Players control the characters “Spike” the mohawk punk and “Hair” the Afro punk on the 1(one)P(layer) side; “Basher” the googles punk and “Stallion” the peni…hat punk on the 2P side. Characters move in eight directions on courts presented in a side view. The A button controls passing shots when a character carries the ball, and the B button controls dunk/distance shots with ball in hand. Players can then use the A button to attack adversaries if without the ball, and jump/block shots with the B button. Characters normally execute a three-hit combo when decking an adversary: punch, kick in the gonads, roundhouse kick in the parietal lobe. Characters can perform these moves without hitting enemies/adversaries: if the roundhouse kick connects, advers-enemies go down in pain. Players can also hit environmental/Stage hazards (e.g. pigeons, falling cargo containers) to remove the hazards from the court.
Players can then press A+B button and input a diving direction (e.g. left, right, up-left, down-right) to either shoulder-charge or German-suplex adversaries. Shoulder charges require less precision to connect, but floor adversaries for a shorter amount of time. German suplexes slam the sorry bastards/adversaries on the floor for roughly three seconds, even if characters require a few frames to get up. There are no three pointers (courts, are, well, basic) and no fouls, of course: players are supposed to belt the adversaries. Stages provide various environmental/court hazards of various degrees of zaniness and disruption of the game flow. For instance, “The Docks” stage features a sewer hole in which characters can fall in, and a ship container squashing the characters for a few seconds. Court hazards are easy to handle or avoid, but provide comedic occasions and easy scoring chances, if properly exploited.
The various revisions differ in how they handle the matches. In the US versions, four or two players play a single match of four quarters of three minutes each. Players have an energy bar and will “die” before the end of the match if they do not score enough points (i.e. it is a “score or die” game). After a single match, an ending score celebrating the winners appears. In the JP and EU versions, players control the Wanderers and play five matches against the other teams. A “special team” appears after four matches, to determine who is the meanest couple of punks on the streets. Matches amount to one quarter of two minutes, and only winning the match will guarantee that players advance to the next match. These versions lack energy bars: players must simply win matches and possibly hospitalize the other punks/adversaries as a result.
The game’s audio-visual presentation is highly appropriate in its simplicity. Stages are bright and colorful in their design and thus highlight in a wonderful manner the dirty and grimy places in which characters ply their foul trade. All characters have a thuggish, punkish, and cocky appearance that would aptly qualify them as mid-tier cannon fodder on Konami’s brawlers Crime Fighters and Crime Fighters II/Vendetta. The ref lady (yes, there is a ref and she is a lady) looks like a goth/dark fan: black leather dress, jeans, shades, and rollerblades. Stages are full of small, zany animated details and humorous ideas (e.g. the kid watching the matches on a BMX bike). After each round, the losers appear in mugshots displaying swollen eyes and broken cheeks; winners are grinners, of course. The game might feature bright colours but exudes staggeringly robust amounts of irony and grime in equal parts.
The OST also matches this atmosphere in a simple but certainly appropriate manner. The soundtrack by Kukeiha club member Norio Hanzawa offers three themes, one per court, plus a few more themes for intermissions and cutscenes. The heavy sample-oriented, hip-hop/funk-flavoured themes would certainly feel appropriate in an urban-themed movie of the theme. The Slums is a high-hat, voice samples and drumbeat extravaganza. In the Park would be perfect as a base for one of early Gang Starr’s albums, or perhaps a Stevie Wonder collaboration with Spike Lee (e.g. Jungle Fever). A Wharf and the other tunes (e.g. Go Punks, the ending theme) continue along these splendidly late 1980s jazz/funk/punk/hip-hop (i.e. “urban”) soundscapes, thus absolutely nailing the right atmosphere for the game. The game’s various Facets may appear simple in design, but they are spectacularly appropriate to the underlying theme and setting: Punk Shot is a little gem of game design.
We can now move to a discussion of the game’s difficulty, which unsurprisingly revolves around two simple Facets: game mechanics and Stages layout/design. We can divide the standard 50 points in halves of 25 points, as per assumptions that are now standard in our squibs. Players must master the timing and usefulness of attacks when characters are without the ball, and the timing of dunks and shots with ball in hand. Players must then learn to time their attacks so that adversaries hit the floor approximately at the same time. Bastards/adversaries recover faster from injuries on latter stages and are almost immediately up on the final stage. Be sure to knock both punks at the same time to score free points and avoid last-frame blocks from suddenly active players, thus. Also, remember that active enemies can German-suplex your characters as well: enemies quivering with broken spines, not bloody likely so.
Environmental hazards provide a few more difficulty points. Crucially, environmental hazards activate at different times of a match. For instance, the “pigeon attack” in the park starts at around one minute of gaming time, and players can rip the pigeon a new one if necessary. Furthermore, adversaries can fumble and lose their momentum due to these hazards/events. If players are in control of the score and know how the handle the events, then they may even provide an occasion to pile up a few more points of misery of the losers/adversary team. I thus propose that game mechanics make up 5/25 difficulty points, and Stage layout/design 3/25 points, for a total of 8/50 points. Players will find the game a mid-upper tier game for beginners until the last stage, and spend a few credits master the very fast but manageable final bastards. After that, it is an easy, satisfying 1-CC.
Let us move to the final part of the squib: a discussion of my experiences with the game. Simple, they will be; entertaining, I hope so. It is November 1991 and I have just switched from DECO’s Mutant Fighter/Death Brade[/i] and Robocop II to Tumblepop and Capcom’s King of the Dragons. I enjoy playing these games, and my co-op partner in crime is a great supporting mate, often telling me to STFU and pipe down when playing games. Nevertheless, from time to time I notice people playing some game in the dark corner of the East-side room of the lower floor, in my uncle’s arcade. I hear loud cheers, other stranger noises, school-boy banter from grown adults and I cannot help notice that the cab is next to the toilet. My uncle has clearly designed this layout for some wicked intent that only him could have entertained.
By the end of November, I summon the courage to get close to the cab and figure out what the game might be. Still shy, I remain close to the Data East’s Batman pinball and peep some people playing the game. It looks like a basketball game, a sport which I do not like, but it has this cool Stevie Wonder-sounding soundtrack which I like. The guys playing the game are notorious customers of the arcade. They have a car customisation business and love making all kinds of more-or-less legal modifications to car, at rather convenient prices indeed. They also drive my uncle crazy by clearing games days within their releases: they have finished this remarkably hard game, Toaplan’s Truxton, with panache. My uncle signed a truce with them: they GTFO the game after completing it once, and reset the board without complaining, or they will meet the monkey wrench.
The guys see that I am very shily peeping their runs and tell me that they do not bite: I am not a woman, after all. A bizarre conversation ensues, with me stuttering copiously and them explaining the game to me while laughing with mirth and an excessive display of shark-like grins. They offer me a credit to try the game: my uncle from behind comments that the end is near, because the “Grease Brothers” are not supposed to have mercy against other players. They teach me the basics and are quite satisfied with me reaching Stage three at first try. Over the next two weeks, I meet their lofty expectations by learning how to beat all teams with one credit. Over the next few weeks, the game’s zaniness and hilariously cheap violence becomes popular among arcade regulars, and the game starts attracting small crowds focusing on the vs. mode.
My game mate and I launch the idea of doing score compos: the pairs who can clear the game dunking the most points win the competition. The Grease Brothers enjoy the game’s notoriety and fabled seediness. Quite a few country bumpkin kids from the mountains play it too, since it involves “punching” with one rather than six buttons. A few times we also play one vs. one matches, and my co-op mate and I form a fierce rivalry with these unibrow hulking twins from a village inside the nearby National Park. One day tempers flare after a particularly tense match, and we risk a scuffle: the unibrow twins think that we are cheating because we are very fast in performing German suplexes. Once I explain to them, in flawless local dialect, how to use the suplex successfully and in a brutally swift manner, the twins become our gaming “disciples”.
We do not continue this story here: your scribe is a veritable bastard and this squib deserves some dodgy narration, indeed. To recap: Punk Shot is a basketball game mixing a “street”, two-on-two version of the game with belt scroller/beat’em up elements. Players can punch adversaries and score points happily; if they win five matches as a result, they become the kings of street basketball in the Bronx. The player represents a perhaps obscure and low-brow entry in Konami’s 1980s/1990s arcade catalogue, but it is also well-designed and highly entertained, especially when played against human adversaries. Players who thus appreciate arcade sports games with a certain “brawling” component typical of the era should enjoy the game, indeed. Be sure to try Punk Shot out in the JP/EU versions, and have fun dunking and duking it out against buddies/pals/mates/etc. Just be sure to bring ice packs, in case “arguments” start over.
(2226 words, or 5.6 pages in times new roman, size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; The Grease Brothers are highly respected and nice guys who participate every year in the Paris-Dakar rally. Their business was and still is legitimate, as car customisation is perfectly legal in Italy as far as modifications respect law requirements. They are also authorities regarding car antiques, especially Lancia and Lotus models. I prefer not to mention their names explicitly: anonymity and so on. They were the kind of people that you would hear them before seeing them: their powerful belly laughter would resonate as soon as they would enter the shops gallery. The unibrow twins will return in the Wolf Fang/Rohga squib and in a few other squibs, too; I can anticipate that they started addressing me as Mae’(stro), short for ‘master/teacher’, afterwards. So, stay tuned!)
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
Double Dragon (Technos, 1987)
The next squib involves a legend of 1980s’ gaming: Double Dragon. I have fond memories of this game, even if Technōs have always been the “weird little company” for me. As a kid and teen, I had this vague knowledge of their Famicom/Nes games involving sports and the Kunio-kun, but my appreciation mostly focused on their arcade output. This squib will of course have a sequel involving Double Dragon II, but I will stop to these two arcade titles, for this series and for the time being. I believe that this game has ports on just about any format under the sun, several revisions, and bootleg versions. Please read the wiki in the main squib to know more about these details. The game also had tons of tie-in material, but please refer to this dedicated page for these interesting though rather marginal matters. We quickly move to our main piece:
Double Dragon (Technōs/Taito, 1987) is a belt scroller/beat’em up game in which Billy and Jimmy Lee, the “Double Dragons”, must defeat Willy’s gang and rescue Marian. Billy and Jimmy thus fight the thugs forming Willy’s gang through four Stages, from a dilapidated New York City to Willy’s hideout in the mountains. The Double Dragons have a formidable arsenal of martial arts moves at their disposal and can steal other weapons from their enemies. Once successful in their quest, however, Billy and Lee end up quarrelling on who is the strongest fighter, and solve the matter Highlander-style. Double Dragon is a foundational title in the genre, although it has several quirks that have made the game age in an imperfect manner, as decades have passed. My goal in this squib is therefore to convince players/readers that these quirks do not provide an obstacle towards the appreciation of this cornerstone of arcade history.
A bit of context, if I may. Technōs was born as a group of Data East programmers who decided to found their own studio. Their early 1985 success, Nekketsu Kunio-kun, introduced the “belt” format of fighting in game (i.e. side view and movement on horizontal and lateral axes), and a passion for raw, street-style violence. In the same year of Double Dragon, Technōs also released Super Dodge Ball, and then released China Gate in 1988. The first is the dodge ball game we discussed about in a previous squib; the second is a platform-fighting game based on Monkey King/Wukong’s adventures. With Xain’d Sleena as an 1986 action/R2RKMF title and Acrobatic Dog Fight as an 1983, highly Sui Generis shmup-like title, Technōs established themselves as an eclectic game company. Their subsequent WWF games and Block Out released in 1989 further confirmed their commitment to excellence and eclecticism in design.
Double Dragon offered early evidence of this eclecticism in the erstwhile emerging belt-scroller genre. First, however, let us outline the plot and game setting underlining the game. In a typical 1980s postapocalyptic world, the Lee brothers teach martial arts to survivors of a New York City struck and devastated by atomic bombs. They attract the bitter enmity of Willy, the head of a gang of thugs who terrorise the local communities. Willy decides to kidnap Marian, the girlfriend of Billy (the blue 1(one)P(layer) character), and force the two brothers to rescue the girl. Billy and Jimmy (the crimson 2(two)P character) start a journey in the outskirts of New York to rescue Marian. Once successful, however, a bit fratricidal dispute occurs, casting a shadow of tragedy on the otherwise successful rescue mission. The game thus blends Hokuto No Ken and 1997: Escape from New York themes in a surprisingly efficient setting.
Let us frame how this setting translates into a game via a discussion of the game mechanics or Facets. Players control Billy and Jimmy via the joystick, moving them in eight directions on the plane of movement. The A button controls punches, the B button kicks, and the C button jumps. Thus, Billy and Jimmy can also move on the vertical axis, though in a limited manner (i.e. via jumps). Punches come in a variety of context-specific variants, but the Double Dragons usually land two- or three-hit combos when they can connect with enemies (left direct, right direct, knock-down uppercut). Kicks come in a two-hit combo involving a first hit in the teeth and an eventual roundhouse kick that might expose the character’s back to enemies. Jumps cover a limited length and height, and can overcome environmental hazards along the Stages (e.g. the bridge on Stage three).
The game also offers a richer set of macro-based, then innovative moves. Players can push A+C (i.e. punch+jump) to perform an elbow hit against enemies at their backs. Alternatively, they can press B+C (i.e. kick+jump) to perform a backward jumping kick. Both hits knock down enemies and, if properly timed, land almost certain hits. Characters can jump and then kick in a direction of choice (left, right), and can also head-butt enemies (tap twice in the same direction). Characters can then pick up a notable variety of weapons from enemies. These include baseball bats and whips (press A to club/whip thugs), petrol barrels and huge rocks (press A to grab them, A to smash them against thugs). Billy and Jimmy can also throw knives and dynamite sticks (press A to throw them at thugs). Billy and Jimmy have 5 health bars, one extra life, and fully recover health after each Stage.
The game thus offers a notable arsenal of survival options supporting easy 1-CC’s, especially via macro-move abuse. Before we discuss this Facet, however, we focus on the audio-visual Facets of the game. Double Dragon forsakes the anime/manga style of Nekketsu Kunio-kun and goes for a perhaps western-looking design. The game has saturated colours that also feature in other Technōs games, but also a peculiar design approach. Billy and Lee seem to have eyes without pupils and fluorescent irises, ultra-ripped chests but rather thin legs. All enemies follow this design style, with Abobos, the hulking bare-chested giants, offering an extreme rendition of this style. Furthermore, Billy and Lee apparently lack mouths, thus offering the impression of stoic warriors lacking even the basic means to scream. All characters have relatively fluid animations, but only the bootleg version runs at full speed when more than two characters are on screen.
If characters feature hypertrophic looks and equally cartoon-esque and creepy designs, then Stages strengthen this apparently cacophonic impression. Stages have an eerie aura about them. Stage one offers a short trip through Billy and Lee’s block, and continues seamlessly into Stage two’s highly detailed industrial area. By Stage three, Billy and Jimmy move into the eerie sections of their journey. Stage three, traverses a forest at night and reaches Willy’s hideout in a nearby mountain. Stage four is the hideout, full of semi-automated traps and ending in a big room in which the final showdown takes place. Stages three and four offer an atmosphere of abandoned spaces, suggesting that Willy’s hideout is more like some dilapidated base that the thugs occupied as squatters. They thus offer a strong depiction of Double Dragon as a game set in a desperate time and circumstances, as befits postapocalyptic settings.
Let us know move to the “sounds” Facet. The game is notable in having early vocal samples for the various characters. Abobos perform hilarious roars when throwing the Double Dragons around, the protagonist duo performs a flippant muffling gurgle when they die. The Male thugs and female thugs also have their specialised dying screams, thus emphasising that the game’s violence is possibly cartoonish but certainly not silly. Furthermore, physical attacks produce satisfyingly realistic sounds: kicks and punches give the impressions that somebody sampled them while knocking down some blabbermouth who did not know their place in hierarchies. All weapons also offer aurally satisfyingly realistic forms of violence. Whips crackle at speed, knives sibilate through air, and baseball bats crack bones with gusto. Players might indeed think that Double Dragon programmers sampled the sounds while possibly handling some side job for Yakuza clans: the arcade business was indeed a though environment.
The OST by Yamane Kazunaka, though short, also falls in the realm of classic early arcade standards. The Opening Theme acts also as the epic theme for the final battle, and is possibly one of the most beloved arcade themes from the 1980s. Stage one’s Arrival of the Black Warriors, for the “Slums” Stage, opens with an almost cheerful march, but leads to the funky/jazzy Riot, for Stage two (i.e. the “Factory” Stage). Stage three’s The Woods is a monumentally atmospheric piece mixing country/folk styles with an eerie vibe: the Stage takes place in a wood at night, after all. Stage four’s Old Nemesis Willy is a dramatic theme that fades into the Opening Theme again. The various other themes (e.g. The Ending theme) also contribute to building a memorable musical setting. Double Dragon may not run on powerful hardware, but presents an exceptionally distinctive audio-visual gaming world.
Let us now move to a topic that might appear controversial to those who remember the game fondly: difficulty. I will be brief, for a reason that will soon become apparent. The game’s difficulty stems from two central Facets: game mechanics and Stage layout/design. We can thus divide the totality of 50 points into two halves of 25 points. Game mechanics should provide an easy challenge to players. Once players learn how to perform macro-based moves (elbow/jumping kick hits) and the use of weapons, they have mastered the crucial Facets of the game mechanics for survival purposes. Stages also provide minimal environmental hazards. Players must learn when to jump over the one bridge on Stage three and how to dodge the moving blocks and impaling statues at the beginning of Stage four. There are no other sources of difficulty, at least if one pursues a “minimal” 1-CC.
Double Dragon thus starts at 2/25 (game mechanics) plus 3/25 (Stage layout) points of difficulty, for a total of 5/50 difficulty points. Players can 1-CC the game by not learning the Stage four’s hazards, dropping one or two lives during these passages. The game awards extra lives at 30k and every 60k points, so players can afford losing two lives on this Stage. The game thus drops down to 3/50 difficulty points: ultimately, it is a low/mid-tier challenge for beginner players, even if they pursue a 1-L(ife)C. Playing the game for score is a slightly more complex proposition, however. Players must learn the timing of kick combos, as they deal the least damage and highest award of points. Players must also handle one enemy at a time: generous time limits become a variable to control. Still, I would award a 10/50 points (high-tier, beginner level) difficulty level, in this case.
Although Double Dragon may not strike your humble scribe as a “difficult game”, it has offered a wealth of gaming experiences to this scribe. Xenny, of course, would be delighted to skip them in their entirety, but the bogan xenomorph can stuff it, quite frankly. An admission: these experiences will be incredibly fragmentary, due to the way Double Dragon entered and exited my life over the decades. It is 1987 or 1988, and I am going to this other arcade with my father, for reasons that that I do not understand fully at the time (but see the City Connection squib for actual, later details). I see people spending lots of time queueing at four cabs that each have this game, to have their turn. When I can try the game, I get stuck on Stage three until another person tells me that the third button is for jumping.
It is now 1988, but probably October: it is cold, overcast, and dreary. The snack bar in the swimming pool has Double Dragon, this game that everyone talks about and that I played a few times as well. I try the game a few times, and slowly learn to reach what should be the final Stage, according to a friend of mine. This friend and swimming buddy proposes me to play together, and after two weeks or so we manage to beat the game without too many difficulties. The first time, however, we are almost horrified that the game forces us to fight one against the other: we refuse to do so, and we end the credit via a time-out on our last lives. On future credits, we decide to take turns on grasping the final victory and saving Marian, though we never manage to appreciate this ending.
It is then winter 1988, and my uncle grabs a board of this game to make some easy cash out of its strong popularity. Most people however complain that the game seems quite harder than before: my uncle quickly comments, rather laconically, that people may have just become rusty at it. My 2000 self knows very well that my uncle often cranked up the difficulty of easy games as soon as people started clearing them on a regular basis. My 1988 self is, of course, completely unaware of this fact. It is then Winter 1989 and I am playing Tiger Road, Super Dodge Ball and Momoko 120% with my Banchō[/url] friend, at the bar in my grandparents’ village. The bar also a cab with this game and with its sequel, Double Dragon II. We play both games from time to time, in co-op, though we enjoy the second title more.
Over the decades, I play this game a lot via MAME, often as placebo: when I want to feel consoled by achieving a simple result as a videogame 1-CC. Life can suck hard, yes, but getting a 1-CC or even a 1-LC may be a good way to feel like I have achieved some form of achievement and closure, during the day. And still…whenever I play the game, my mind wanders to The Woods theme, and my walks at night to cross my grandparents’ village and the nearby dark woods. Decades passed, and whenever I traversed dark places, physical and mental alike, this haunting videogame has become a musical consolation. Situations may unbearably adverse, but one can always find a way to overcome them. Just be sure to have the dark, gritty frame of mind to do so (and, hey, spam the winning moves ad nauseam).
Let us summarise. Double Dragon is a belt scroller/beat’em up pioneering game that pits the Lee brothers against their old nemesis Willy, in a post-apocalyptic New York City. Willy kidnaps Johnny’s girlfriend Marian to lure the brothers into a trap, and the brothers decide to rescue Marian and kick Willy’s ass for the last time. The game features a rich set of attack options, though players may simply abuse the macro-move options. Players may however pursue more score-oriented approaches and unlock the game’s richness in its potentially full width. The game also features solid if somewhat cartoon-esque graphics, a great use of sound samples and a brilliant OST, and ultimately a great, foundational atmosphere and approach to the genre. Go and play the game and, just for the sake of completeness, 1-CC it: it should be an achievement that every self-respecting “videogame player” should reach, at least once.
(2375 words, or 6 pages in times new roman, size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; Yes, my uncle adored cranking up difficulty on easy games, but he had the polite habit of lowering difficulty when the games were obviously too hard for the masses. Profit, yes, but exasperated customers seldom spend money on “unfair videogames”, don’t they? At any case, I will also upload the Double Dragon II squib sometime in June. Next one title lined up is in the title, folks, so be sure to get ready for some further readings).
Double Dragon (Technōs/Taito, 1987) is a belt scroller/beat’em up game in which Billy and Jimmy Lee, the “Double Dragons”, must defeat Willy’s gang and rescue Marian. Billy and Jimmy thus fight the thugs forming Willy’s gang through four Stages, from a dilapidated New York City to Willy’s hideout in the mountains. The Double Dragons have a formidable arsenal of martial arts moves at their disposal and can steal other weapons from their enemies. Once successful in their quest, however, Billy and Lee end up quarrelling on who is the strongest fighter, and solve the matter Highlander-style. Double Dragon is a foundational title in the genre, although it has several quirks that have made the game age in an imperfect manner, as decades have passed. My goal in this squib is therefore to convince players/readers that these quirks do not provide an obstacle towards the appreciation of this cornerstone of arcade history.
A bit of context, if I may. Technōs was born as a group of Data East programmers who decided to found their own studio. Their early 1985 success, Nekketsu Kunio-kun, introduced the “belt” format of fighting in game (i.e. side view and movement on horizontal and lateral axes), and a passion for raw, street-style violence. In the same year of Double Dragon, Technōs also released Super Dodge Ball, and then released China Gate in 1988. The first is the dodge ball game we discussed about in a previous squib; the second is a platform-fighting game based on Monkey King/Wukong’s adventures. With Xain’d Sleena as an 1986 action/R2RKMF title and Acrobatic Dog Fight as an 1983, highly Sui Generis shmup-like title, Technōs established themselves as an eclectic game company. Their subsequent WWF games and Block Out released in 1989 further confirmed their commitment to excellence and eclecticism in design.
Double Dragon offered early evidence of this eclecticism in the erstwhile emerging belt-scroller genre. First, however, let us outline the plot and game setting underlining the game. In a typical 1980s postapocalyptic world, the Lee brothers teach martial arts to survivors of a New York City struck and devastated by atomic bombs. They attract the bitter enmity of Willy, the head of a gang of thugs who terrorise the local communities. Willy decides to kidnap Marian, the girlfriend of Billy (the blue 1(one)P(layer) character), and force the two brothers to rescue the girl. Billy and Jimmy (the crimson 2(two)P character) start a journey in the outskirts of New York to rescue Marian. Once successful, however, a bit fratricidal dispute occurs, casting a shadow of tragedy on the otherwise successful rescue mission. The game thus blends Hokuto No Ken and 1997: Escape from New York themes in a surprisingly efficient setting.
Let us frame how this setting translates into a game via a discussion of the game mechanics or Facets. Players control Billy and Jimmy via the joystick, moving them in eight directions on the plane of movement. The A button controls punches, the B button kicks, and the C button jumps. Thus, Billy and Jimmy can also move on the vertical axis, though in a limited manner (i.e. via jumps). Punches come in a variety of context-specific variants, but the Double Dragons usually land two- or three-hit combos when they can connect with enemies (left direct, right direct, knock-down uppercut). Kicks come in a two-hit combo involving a first hit in the teeth and an eventual roundhouse kick that might expose the character’s back to enemies. Jumps cover a limited length and height, and can overcome environmental hazards along the Stages (e.g. the bridge on Stage three).
The game also offers a richer set of macro-based, then innovative moves. Players can push A+C (i.e. punch+jump) to perform an elbow hit against enemies at their backs. Alternatively, they can press B+C (i.e. kick+jump) to perform a backward jumping kick. Both hits knock down enemies and, if properly timed, land almost certain hits. Characters can jump and then kick in a direction of choice (left, right), and can also head-butt enemies (tap twice in the same direction). Characters can then pick up a notable variety of weapons from enemies. These include baseball bats and whips (press A to club/whip thugs), petrol barrels and huge rocks (press A to grab them, A to smash them against thugs). Billy and Jimmy can also throw knives and dynamite sticks (press A to throw them at thugs). Billy and Jimmy have 5 health bars, one extra life, and fully recover health after each Stage.
The game thus offers a notable arsenal of survival options supporting easy 1-CC’s, especially via macro-move abuse. Before we discuss this Facet, however, we focus on the audio-visual Facets of the game. Double Dragon forsakes the anime/manga style of Nekketsu Kunio-kun and goes for a perhaps western-looking design. The game has saturated colours that also feature in other Technōs games, but also a peculiar design approach. Billy and Lee seem to have eyes without pupils and fluorescent irises, ultra-ripped chests but rather thin legs. All enemies follow this design style, with Abobos, the hulking bare-chested giants, offering an extreme rendition of this style. Furthermore, Billy and Lee apparently lack mouths, thus offering the impression of stoic warriors lacking even the basic means to scream. All characters have relatively fluid animations, but only the bootleg version runs at full speed when more than two characters are on screen.
If characters feature hypertrophic looks and equally cartoon-esque and creepy designs, then Stages strengthen this apparently cacophonic impression. Stages have an eerie aura about them. Stage one offers a short trip through Billy and Lee’s block, and continues seamlessly into Stage two’s highly detailed industrial area. By Stage three, Billy and Jimmy move into the eerie sections of their journey. Stage three, traverses a forest at night and reaches Willy’s hideout in a nearby mountain. Stage four is the hideout, full of semi-automated traps and ending in a big room in which the final showdown takes place. Stages three and four offer an atmosphere of abandoned spaces, suggesting that Willy’s hideout is more like some dilapidated base that the thugs occupied as squatters. They thus offer a strong depiction of Double Dragon as a game set in a desperate time and circumstances, as befits postapocalyptic settings.
Let us know move to the “sounds” Facet. The game is notable in having early vocal samples for the various characters. Abobos perform hilarious roars when throwing the Double Dragons around, the protagonist duo performs a flippant muffling gurgle when they die. The Male thugs and female thugs also have their specialised dying screams, thus emphasising that the game’s violence is possibly cartoonish but certainly not silly. Furthermore, physical attacks produce satisfyingly realistic sounds: kicks and punches give the impressions that somebody sampled them while knocking down some blabbermouth who did not know their place in hierarchies. All weapons also offer aurally satisfyingly realistic forms of violence. Whips crackle at speed, knives sibilate through air, and baseball bats crack bones with gusto. Players might indeed think that Double Dragon programmers sampled the sounds while possibly handling some side job for Yakuza clans: the arcade business was indeed a though environment.
The OST by Yamane Kazunaka, though short, also falls in the realm of classic early arcade standards. The Opening Theme acts also as the epic theme for the final battle, and is possibly one of the most beloved arcade themes from the 1980s. Stage one’s Arrival of the Black Warriors, for the “Slums” Stage, opens with an almost cheerful march, but leads to the funky/jazzy Riot, for Stage two (i.e. the “Factory” Stage). Stage three’s The Woods is a monumentally atmospheric piece mixing country/folk styles with an eerie vibe: the Stage takes place in a wood at night, after all. Stage four’s Old Nemesis Willy is a dramatic theme that fades into the Opening Theme again. The various other themes (e.g. The Ending theme) also contribute to building a memorable musical setting. Double Dragon may not run on powerful hardware, but presents an exceptionally distinctive audio-visual gaming world.
Let us now move to a topic that might appear controversial to those who remember the game fondly: difficulty. I will be brief, for a reason that will soon become apparent. The game’s difficulty stems from two central Facets: game mechanics and Stage layout/design. We can thus divide the totality of 50 points into two halves of 25 points. Game mechanics should provide an easy challenge to players. Once players learn how to perform macro-based moves (elbow/jumping kick hits) and the use of weapons, they have mastered the crucial Facets of the game mechanics for survival purposes. Stages also provide minimal environmental hazards. Players must learn when to jump over the one bridge on Stage three and how to dodge the moving blocks and impaling statues at the beginning of Stage four. There are no other sources of difficulty, at least if one pursues a “minimal” 1-CC.
Double Dragon thus starts at 2/25 (game mechanics) plus 3/25 (Stage layout) points of difficulty, for a total of 5/50 difficulty points. Players can 1-CC the game by not learning the Stage four’s hazards, dropping one or two lives during these passages. The game awards extra lives at 30k and every 60k points, so players can afford losing two lives on this Stage. The game thus drops down to 3/50 difficulty points: ultimately, it is a low/mid-tier challenge for beginner players, even if they pursue a 1-L(ife)C. Playing the game for score is a slightly more complex proposition, however. Players must learn the timing of kick combos, as they deal the least damage and highest award of points. Players must also handle one enemy at a time: generous time limits become a variable to control. Still, I would award a 10/50 points (high-tier, beginner level) difficulty level, in this case.
Although Double Dragon may not strike your humble scribe as a “difficult game”, it has offered a wealth of gaming experiences to this scribe. Xenny, of course, would be delighted to skip them in their entirety, but the bogan xenomorph can stuff it, quite frankly. An admission: these experiences will be incredibly fragmentary, due to the way Double Dragon entered and exited my life over the decades. It is 1987 or 1988, and I am going to this other arcade with my father, for reasons that that I do not understand fully at the time (but see the City Connection squib for actual, later details). I see people spending lots of time queueing at four cabs that each have this game, to have their turn. When I can try the game, I get stuck on Stage three until another person tells me that the third button is for jumping.
It is now 1988, but probably October: it is cold, overcast, and dreary. The snack bar in the swimming pool has Double Dragon, this game that everyone talks about and that I played a few times as well. I try the game a few times, and slowly learn to reach what should be the final Stage, according to a friend of mine. This friend and swimming buddy proposes me to play together, and after two weeks or so we manage to beat the game without too many difficulties. The first time, however, we are almost horrified that the game forces us to fight one against the other: we refuse to do so, and we end the credit via a time-out on our last lives. On future credits, we decide to take turns on grasping the final victory and saving Marian, though we never manage to appreciate this ending.
It is then winter 1988, and my uncle grabs a board of this game to make some easy cash out of its strong popularity. Most people however complain that the game seems quite harder than before: my uncle quickly comments, rather laconically, that people may have just become rusty at it. My 2000 self knows very well that my uncle often cranked up the difficulty of easy games as soon as people started clearing them on a regular basis. My 1988 self is, of course, completely unaware of this fact. It is then Winter 1989 and I am playing Tiger Road, Super Dodge Ball and Momoko 120% with my Banchō[/url] friend, at the bar in my grandparents’ village. The bar also a cab with this game and with its sequel, Double Dragon II. We play both games from time to time, in co-op, though we enjoy the second title more.
Over the decades, I play this game a lot via MAME, often as placebo: when I want to feel consoled by achieving a simple result as a videogame 1-CC. Life can suck hard, yes, but getting a 1-CC or even a 1-LC may be a good way to feel like I have achieved some form of achievement and closure, during the day. And still…whenever I play the game, my mind wanders to The Woods theme, and my walks at night to cross my grandparents’ village and the nearby dark woods. Decades passed, and whenever I traversed dark places, physical and mental alike, this haunting videogame has become a musical consolation. Situations may unbearably adverse, but one can always find a way to overcome them. Just be sure to have the dark, gritty frame of mind to do so (and, hey, spam the winning moves ad nauseam).
Let us summarise. Double Dragon is a belt scroller/beat’em up pioneering game that pits the Lee brothers against their old nemesis Willy, in a post-apocalyptic New York City. Willy kidnaps Johnny’s girlfriend Marian to lure the brothers into a trap, and the brothers decide to rescue Marian and kick Willy’s ass for the last time. The game features a rich set of attack options, though players may simply abuse the macro-move options. Players may however pursue more score-oriented approaches and unlock the game’s richness in its potentially full width. The game also features solid if somewhat cartoon-esque graphics, a great use of sound samples and a brilliant OST, and ultimately a great, foundational atmosphere and approach to the genre. Go and play the game and, just for the sake of completeness, 1-CC it: it should be an achievement that every self-respecting “videogame player” should reach, at least once.
(2375 words, or 6 pages in times new roman, size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; Yes, my uncle adored cranking up difficulty on easy games, but he had the polite habit of lowering difficulty when the games were obviously too hard for the masses. Profit, yes, but exasperated customers seldom spend money on “unfair videogames”, don’t they? At any case, I will also upload the Double Dragon II squib sometime in June. Next one title lined up is in the title, folks, so be sure to get ready for some further readings).
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
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Re: RRR: Index of squibs
Grand writeup, as ever.
I played a little of the NES versions of 1 & 2, but never really ventured far with them, so your call to give it a fairer crack definitely resonated with me.
Imagine standing on a practically deserted train platform at midday when a scorpion-tailed nightmare from beyond the stars scuttles up to you and extends the head within its mouth which whispers, "Give us a durry, cunt."
I played a little of the NES versions of 1 & 2, but never really ventured far with them, so your call to give it a fairer crack definitely resonated with me.
That's it folks - pack it up and go home: we've reached peak horror.
Imagine standing on a practically deserted train platform at midday when a scorpion-tailed nightmare from beyond the stars scuttles up to you and extends the head within its mouth which whispers, "Give us a durry, cunt."
Double Dragon (Technos, 1987). Next! Mercs!
Ah! I am pretty sure that Xenny supports the Canterbury Bulldogs or maybe even the Penrith Panthers, listens to Men At Work, but he does not admit it public. I definitely can imagine a Xenomorph Hive somewhere in the Blue Mountains or, a bit less surprisingly, in Sydney CBD, or perhaps Uluru/Ayers Rock. No Foster's at home, at least, but I wouldn't mind if Xenny could bring me back a few schooners of Lord Nelson's Three Sheets next time he visits home ("durry", I had to look it up again, fair enough). I confess that I liked some of the dodgier Aussie beers though (Toohey's Old and New but no, no Carlton!), but for the most part I remained loyal to James Squire's output. I did live around Pyrmont, Rozelle, Newtown and...Leichhardt, of course (insert sledge here on Italo-Australians and Italians in Sydney, etc.)
Oz-themed yarns aside, Double Dragon is definitely a classic though not necessarily a good game. It was obliquitous during a period roughly covering 1987 to early 1989: I remember that high altitude Hotel not far from my hometown had a cab with the game during the Christmas 1988. I forgot mentioning it in the squib, but my 1988 self played the game (and some other game I forgot) when spending a few horribly cold nights in this Hotel, during that Christmas. The Woods theme, playing in an old hotel when outside a violent snow blizzard is sweeping a lunar-looking plateau at 2200 metres of altitude, with only drunken adults and my unbearable stepsisters as a company...I admit that I only write down the proverbial "tips of the icebergs", when providing my experiences with game. Then again, future drafts may also bring more memories about, I guess.
I will expand on the matter of DD's quality in the follow-up squib, I suspect, but the sequel will appear in at least in a month's time. I have reshuffled the schedule and decided to be an absolute bastard: no official announcements except for the weekly update, if I remember writing it down. So, this Sunday, it will be Capcom's Mercs, and a certain Data East game set in AU+NZ is definitely in the pipeline.
("durry", I had to look it up again, fair enough). I confess that I liked some of the dodgier Aussie beers though (Toohey's Old and New but no, no Carlton!), but for the most part I remained loyal to James Squire's output. I did live around Pyrmont, Rozelle, Newtown and...Leichhardt, of course (insert sledge here on Italo-Australians and Italians in Sydney, etc.)Oz-themed yarns aside, Double Dragon is definitely a classic though not necessarily a good game. It was obliquitous during a period roughly covering 1987 to early 1989: I remember that high altitude Hotel not far from my hometown had a cab with the game during the Christmas 1988. I forgot mentioning it in the squib, but my 1988 self played the game (and some other game I forgot) when spending a few horribly cold nights in this Hotel, during that Christmas. The Woods theme, playing in an old hotel when outside a violent snow blizzard is sweeping a lunar-looking plateau at 2200 metres of altitude, with only drunken adults and my unbearable stepsisters as a company...I admit that I only write down the proverbial "tips of the icebergs", when providing my experiences with game. Then again, future drafts may also bring more memories about, I guess.
I will expand on the matter of DD's quality in the follow-up squib, I suspect, but the sequel will appear in at least in a month's time. I have reshuffled the schedule and decided to be an absolute bastard: no official announcements except for the weekly update, if I remember writing it down. So, this Sunday, it will be Capcom's Mercs, and a certain Data East game set in AU+NZ is definitely in the pipeline.
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
Mercs (Capcom 1990) Next! Capcom Sports Club (1997, Capcom) (revision)
This week’s squib focuses on Capcom’s Mercs/Senjō no Ōkami II, an interesting top-down action game that also qualifies as a freely scrolling shmup. The game acts as a sequel to Senjō no Ōkami/Commando, as the Japanese title implies. The game received quite a few ports back in the day (e.g. MD, Super Famicom/Nes, the Saturn Capcom collections: read the wiki below) and was popular with arcade crowds, in my experience. The PS2 Capcom Collection, PS4/Switch Capcom Arcade Stadium are arcade-perfect and run on more modern formats, however. The arcade version has a 2P and a 3P version, with the 3P version usually including controls specific to each of the three mercenaries in-game. As we are going to discuss in detail, this game is possibly a pinnacle of 1980s Hollywood-style action, even if it saw its release in 1990. Be sure to pump your steroids pack, get bare-chested and be ready for some extra-judiciary manly action, as we start:
Mercs/Senjo no Okami II (Capcom, 1990) is a top-down, (ro)TATE hybrid of action game and free-scrolling shmup. Players control mercenaries (“mercs”) Joe Gibson, Howard Powell and Thomas Clarke, who must enter the African country Zutula and rescue the former US president from the clutches of power-hungry militias. The game is notable for having smooth and highly detailed pre-rendered graphics, and peculiar approach to action scenes and bosses, and for offering perhaps the easiest and fastest counter-stop in a shmup. The game might feel intimidating at first glance, since even basic soldiers can land considerable damage by throwing hand-grenades. Boss fights pit the three fearless mercs against some huge vehicles and weapons of destruction, so they can strengthen this impression. My goal in this squib is to convince my readers that the game is relatively easy and quite more enjoyable, exquisitely designed, and even a satisfying challenge for scoring purposes.
Before I define the reasons behind these claims, let us define the Facets of a context within the micro-genre’s boundaries and Capcom’s releases. In 1990, Capcom produced several interesting titles such as HORI(zontal) shmup Carrier Airwing/U.S. Navy, Action/Platformers Chiki Chiki Boys/Mega Twins, Nemo, and Magic Sword. The CPS-1 had already seen future legendary titles such as Ghouls’n Ghosts, Strider, Final Fight, Warriors of Fate and Forgotten Worlds. To arcade customers, Capcom was offering a diverse and brilliantly solid array of great videogames. The top-down type of shooter, however, was perhaps already a micro-genre destined to fade away. Taito’s Land, Sea, Air Squad, SNK’s Ikari Warriors and S.A.R., Konami’s Gangbusters, Sega’s Alien Syndrome, Toaplan’s Outzone, Data East’s Heavy Barrel were solid representatives of the genre’s parable, with SNK also offering rotary joystick experiences. The micro-genre of “action games without a jumping button” had thus a thriving if shortly-lived number of releases.
Capcom decided to release a new game in this micro-genre via Mercs, also to display the ability of this board regarding pre-rendered graphics. The company billed the game as a sequel to their moderately popular Senjō no Ōkami/Commando game from 1985 in Japan, though in both versions the focus is the trio of titular “mercs”. These three mercs must infiltrate Zutula, an affluent African country, and save the former US president from the militias who have made a coup d’etat during the president’s visit. The militias know that by keeping the president hostage, they will have leverage against the world. The US government and the CIA will have none of this nonsense: hence, the three mercs infiltrate the country to save the president and the day. If this plot reads like a marvellously trite Hollywood action flick from the 1980s, it is because the inspiration was clearly this one.
The plot’s triteness notwithstanding, the game has simple and intuitive mechanics. Players control each merc with the joystick and can move them in eight directions. The A button controls main shots, and the B button controls bomb attacks. Players can collect up to ten “Pow” icons and thus max out the power level of their characters’ weapons. Characters can use machineguns, flamethrowers, spread-shot rifles shooting funny-looking green bullets, and grenade/shrapnel rifles. Each weapon has its own power level, range, and effectivity: for instance, the shrapnel rifles have low shooting frequency but do area damage and can be devastating at maximum power. Characters only have one life, in the form of a green bar showing H(it)P(point)s. The “HP bar” power-up increases the HP limit, and food plus first-aid kid add HPs when needed. If characters collect all eight HP power-ups, they will roughly double the number of HPs at their disposal.
The bomb attacks work much like other bomb attacks in other games, but with a minor game. Using a bomb will cancel all bullets on screen, kill all foot soldiers, and damage all vehicles as well. However, damage lowers with distance. When characters shoot a bomb, they trigger an animation approximating the use of a grenade launcher, and obtain roughly a second of i-(nvicibility) frames. The area roughly half a screen of (vertical) length in front of a player receives the maximum damage. Other areas received less damage, based on the distance from the animation signalling the bomb’s detonating area. Irrespective of the detonation area and its location on the screen, all bullets and enemies’ attack disappear. This entails that bomb attacks act as screen-wide defensive tools, but must as offensive tools they require proper aiming. Use bombs with precaution and, if possible, as the most brutal close-range attacks.
The game also has a mechanic appearing in the first title of the series and in Taito’s Land, Sea, Air Squad, and the subsequent Metal Slug series, among others. The three mercs can enter various types of vehicles, depending on the Stage and section. When they enter the vehicles (e.g. the tanks on Stage two and five, the water jet sleighs on Stage four), they can shoot powerful attacks via the A button and absorb bullets via the vehicle. Vehicles do have their own HPs and cannot move beyond certain sections: the sleighs only allow the mercs to cross a swamp section unscathed. Although players can avoid using the vehicles, the possibility of slaughtering enemies’ armies via their own weapons is too good: use it with abandon. The game thus offers some robust if not indispensable vehicle action, as befits titles in this micro-genre.
Let us now move to the audio-visual Facets and the aesthetic presentation. Most vehicles and backgrounds in the game implement pre-rendered graphics that for the time looked quite gorgeous and highly defined. Furthermore, many vehicles are based on real-life military models (e.g. the final C-130 Hercules boss), and thus offer a strong sense of realistic, gritty action. Sprite characters are also well-animated and detailed, and mesh well with the vehicles. Stage design is highly engaging: the three mercs land on a beach (Stage one) and move in the jungle to reach one of Zutula’s key cities (Stage two). From here, they assault and disable an enemy’s frigate (Stage three), move to Zutula’s capital and then enemy’s secret base in the Veldt (Stages four to six), and stop the enemy from fleeing with the president (Stage seven). Add an ultra-detailed colour palette and massive boss vehicles: Mercs is a gorgeous, well-designed game.
The audio by then Alph Lyla member Manami Matsumae offers a solid if not indelible aural experience. As in the case of Dynasty Wars, lady Matsumae created a solid set of themes that match the action-rife visual presentation. As in the case of Carrier Airwing/U.S. Navy, this composer chose a mix of styles oriented towards the “Hollywood blockbuster” style, given the cinematographic presentation of the game. Perhaps the most notable themes are Stage five’s Destroy the enemy’s supply line and Stage six’s Country R’s Air Force, which follow an epic style and against the backdrop of Zutula’s capital city and then the rebels secret (and immense, of course) underground base. Sound effects are also impressive: explosions are loud, mercs’ grunts when hit hilarious, and vehicles are incredibly loud when moving. The game has an overall cool, realistic, and highly detailed aesthetic presentation, and a good atmospheric OST with great sound effects aptly capturing the intense on-screen action.
With an overview of the game’s audio-visual Facets at our disposal, we can discuss difficulty as our next Facet. The game’s difficulty stems from three sources: Game mechanics, Stage design/layout, and rank. A fourth emergent mechanic lies in how players can play the game for score. Simply put, players must not use bombs (i.e. a game mechanic Facet) and therefore clear critical sections via standard attacks (i.e. a Stage design/layout Facet). The game’s mechanics offer a compact list of difficulty Facets: players may learn how to use the weapons at their disposal, and possibly rotate weapons based on their efficiency in clearing a Stage/section. Players can then learn how to use the vehicles on offer to easily clear sections and possibly avoid bombing. Learning how to use bombs in the most devasting manner becomes a key skill, at least if players do not wish to pursue score-driven runs.
Stage design/layout offers another compact list. Stage one is simple and the boss, an Harrier VIII-like plane, can go down easily by exploiting a safe spot. Stages two to six, however, require that players carefully learn where vehicles and enemies with powerful attacks (e.g. missile-shooting turrets in Stage three’s air carrier setting). Bosses all have powerful attacks and tons of HPs, but all their attacks can become trivial once players learn their patterns or safe spots within these patterns. Stage seven is a boss fight in which the mercs must destroy the engines of the militias’ C-130, and then rescue the president. Once players learn how to (easily) dodge the planes’ attacks, the Stage is mostly a victory lap. Rank is based on survival time: enemies become more aggressive and shoot more often. Since this Facet maxes out by Stage three, it plays a minor role.
The fourth Facet offers a nuanced view about how difficulty works in this game, and how it interacts with scoring opportunities. Players start with three bombs and can accumulate one bomb per Stage (two on Stage six). If they use (up) bombs, they will recover three units once the new Stage stars, along with roughly 30% of HPs. If they do not use the bombs, they will start a Stage with the left-over bombs. By Stage six, thus, players can start with eight bombs in stock. Bombs give 3k points per unit as an end-of-stage bonus, along with remaining Stage time. If players never bomb and destroy all enemies and vehicles, they can score 999900 points (possibly, more) and thus max-out the score. This is however only possible if players learn how to clear critical sections and bosses without bombing, which is not an easy feat.
For these reasons, I propose that the four Facets respectively attract 15, 15, 5 and 15 points. For the first Facet, I assign a 5/15 difficulty value, and for the third Facet a 1/5 difficulty value. Once players learn how to clear Stages by using bombs tactically, then they can have a good control of Stages and bosses. I thus sign a 6/15 difficulty value to the second Facet for this reason. Even simple foot soldiers can throw hand grenades and deal heavy damage, and bosses can kill the mercs with two well-placed attacks. Thus, only once players also learn how to clear Stages by not using bombs, can they fully master Stages, bosses and scoring opportunities. I thus assign a 10/15 difficulty value to this Facet, because players must learn how to handle Stages two to six, plus their bosses, without bombing.
The difficulty value I propose for this game is thus 12/50 difficulty points if players forsake scoring opportunities (i.e. stock up bombs). It however raises to 22/50 difficulty points if they go for the no-bombing, score counter-stop route. Mercs/Senjo no Okami II is a low-tier game for intermediate players, if players forsake score opportunities. If players push for the counter-stop, however, the game is considerably more difficult: it is a low-tier game for expert players. Nevertheless, players must keep in mind that good 1-CC’s with a tactical use of bombs will result in certainly solid scores (in my experience, around 700k points). Only the pursuit of counter-stop 1-CC’s considerably raises the difficulty ceiling, with the proviso that the increase is incremental. A “simple” 1-CC is a 12/50 difficulty level: players will progress to 22/50 points as they learn to clear each Stage without bombing.
We can now wrap by swiftly moving through my experiences with the game (Xenny, happy? I will be brief but exhilarating in my brilliance and lack of hubris!). It is October 1990 and I am going to the dodgy arcade located in the small square frequented by the city’s riff-raff, on Sundays. My excuse is that I am on a mission to spy the competition to my uncle’s arcade. The truth is that these guys often snatch games that my uncle manages to overlook, even if (or especially when) they are awesome. When I see the Mercs cab for the first time, I remain impressed because it has a dedicated marquee plate, controls for three players, and even instructions on how to play the game. My uncle either gets dedicated cabs for cabs, or slams the game hardware inside generic cabs with often janky joysticks and buttons, the lazy bum.
My first few credits on the game are interesting. I have played games likes Land, Sea, Air Squad, Crazy Cop and Time Soldiers, but I do not have a very solid understanding of this style of shooting. The freedom of moving as I please is something I am learning again via Dark Seal, but I still feel more confident with “forced scrolling shooters”. I can reach the first boss after a few clumsy attempts in which I tend to backtrack as soon as an enemy throws a grenade: an onlooker even snickers at my perceived daftness. By this first Sunday, I can reach the middle section of the second stage, discover that I can use the big tank and destroy a lot of stuff with it, and then end my credits in many horrible ways. My first impression of the game is that it is too difficult, for my 1990 self.
Over the next few Sundays, however, I learn that the game is very generous with bombs and that I need to learn Stages, to progress. Once I can clear a Stage without using bombs (or using them in specific sections), reaching the Stage four boss is suddenly a relatively easy goal. I start feeling confident that the game is quite approachable. Stages five and six, however, provide a quite sterner challenge. The capital city Stage five has lots of traps that can end a credit very quickly and very brutally, and a cool but difficult train boss. The secret base Stage six also has a few instant death traps and a rocket-launching platform that only needs to rapid hits to kill the three mercs. During October and November, thus, I learn how to stock up bombs for these bosses and clear Stages five and six without bombing.
By the end of November, however, I can safely reach the sixth boss with a healthy stock of bombs and simply bomb the missile-throwing platform to oblivion. The first time I reach Stage seven; I can destroy the C-130 Hercules’ engines quickly. The president is safe, and I almost cannot believe that I have completed one more game by following the equivalent of Sunday morning practice. I play the game until Christmas time, trying to improve my score: I renounce once I realise that I should avoid using bombs. In 2000, during my MAME gap year, I re-discover this game and decided to go for the no-bombs clear. After a couple of months of intermittent practice, I achieve this goal and discover that I can also max out the score. Over the years, I do comfortably limit myself to confident, if a bit lazy quick 1-CC’s.
Let us summarise. Mercs/Senjo No Okami II is a top-down, (Ro)TATE free-scrolling shmup that acts as a sequel to Capcom’s Commando. The game features a vaguely jingoistic plot in which three mercs rescue a former US president from bad guys in African country Zutula. The game also features a classic action game approach with players always pushing forward and strafing soldiers plus vehicles of various size into oblivion. The game is notable because it allows credits with 3-players in co-op mode and is not particularly difficult if players want to 1-CC it. Players can counter-stop the game’s score in a relatively easy manner, but such a goal requires quite more practice. Whatever approach players decide to pursue, the game offers an entertaining challenge, highly detailed graphics and a good OST, and a general great gaming experience. Try it out, and enjoy Capcom’s excellent approach to Hollywood-style bare-chested, merc-crazied manly action.
(2665 words, or 6.7 pages in times new roman, size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; really, this game is quite easy to 1-CC and does not require tons of practice to counter-stop. All bosses have these silly safe spots or safe techniques that make the battles quite manageable. The problem is that even tiny mistakes during boss fights can result in hits causing 50% of HP loss. The truth is that losing energy becomes difficult, once players know how to play the game and avoid bullets (hint: dodge bullets with wise use of joystick). At any case, Zutula is really a Captain Ersatz name for Apartheid-time South Africa, and the intuition is that the main enemy are white suprematist militias not wanting Black Africans to run the country. Play while thinking of shooting white supremacist missed abortions, and the game should become even more delectable indeed!).
Mercs/Senjo no Okami II (Capcom, 1990) is a top-down, (ro)TATE hybrid of action game and free-scrolling shmup. Players control mercenaries (“mercs”) Joe Gibson, Howard Powell and Thomas Clarke, who must enter the African country Zutula and rescue the former US president from the clutches of power-hungry militias. The game is notable for having smooth and highly detailed pre-rendered graphics, and peculiar approach to action scenes and bosses, and for offering perhaps the easiest and fastest counter-stop in a shmup. The game might feel intimidating at first glance, since even basic soldiers can land considerable damage by throwing hand-grenades. Boss fights pit the three fearless mercs against some huge vehicles and weapons of destruction, so they can strengthen this impression. My goal in this squib is to convince my readers that the game is relatively easy and quite more enjoyable, exquisitely designed, and even a satisfying challenge for scoring purposes.
Before I define the reasons behind these claims, let us define the Facets of a context within the micro-genre’s boundaries and Capcom’s releases. In 1990, Capcom produced several interesting titles such as HORI(zontal) shmup Carrier Airwing/U.S. Navy, Action/Platformers Chiki Chiki Boys/Mega Twins, Nemo, and Magic Sword. The CPS-1 had already seen future legendary titles such as Ghouls’n Ghosts, Strider, Final Fight, Warriors of Fate and Forgotten Worlds. To arcade customers, Capcom was offering a diverse and brilliantly solid array of great videogames. The top-down type of shooter, however, was perhaps already a micro-genre destined to fade away. Taito’s Land, Sea, Air Squad, SNK’s Ikari Warriors and S.A.R., Konami’s Gangbusters, Sega’s Alien Syndrome, Toaplan’s Outzone, Data East’s Heavy Barrel were solid representatives of the genre’s parable, with SNK also offering rotary joystick experiences. The micro-genre of “action games without a jumping button” had thus a thriving if shortly-lived number of releases.
Capcom decided to release a new game in this micro-genre via Mercs, also to display the ability of this board regarding pre-rendered graphics. The company billed the game as a sequel to their moderately popular Senjō no Ōkami/Commando game from 1985 in Japan, though in both versions the focus is the trio of titular “mercs”. These three mercs must infiltrate Zutula, an affluent African country, and save the former US president from the militias who have made a coup d’etat during the president’s visit. The militias know that by keeping the president hostage, they will have leverage against the world. The US government and the CIA will have none of this nonsense: hence, the three mercs infiltrate the country to save the president and the day. If this plot reads like a marvellously trite Hollywood action flick from the 1980s, it is because the inspiration was clearly this one.
The plot’s triteness notwithstanding, the game has simple and intuitive mechanics. Players control each merc with the joystick and can move them in eight directions. The A button controls main shots, and the B button controls bomb attacks. Players can collect up to ten “Pow” icons and thus max out the power level of their characters’ weapons. Characters can use machineguns, flamethrowers, spread-shot rifles shooting funny-looking green bullets, and grenade/shrapnel rifles. Each weapon has its own power level, range, and effectivity: for instance, the shrapnel rifles have low shooting frequency but do area damage and can be devastating at maximum power. Characters only have one life, in the form of a green bar showing H(it)P(point)s. The “HP bar” power-up increases the HP limit, and food plus first-aid kid add HPs when needed. If characters collect all eight HP power-ups, they will roughly double the number of HPs at their disposal.
The bomb attacks work much like other bomb attacks in other games, but with a minor game. Using a bomb will cancel all bullets on screen, kill all foot soldiers, and damage all vehicles as well. However, damage lowers with distance. When characters shoot a bomb, they trigger an animation approximating the use of a grenade launcher, and obtain roughly a second of i-(nvicibility) frames. The area roughly half a screen of (vertical) length in front of a player receives the maximum damage. Other areas received less damage, based on the distance from the animation signalling the bomb’s detonating area. Irrespective of the detonation area and its location on the screen, all bullets and enemies’ attack disappear. This entails that bomb attacks act as screen-wide defensive tools, but must as offensive tools they require proper aiming. Use bombs with precaution and, if possible, as the most brutal close-range attacks.
The game also has a mechanic appearing in the first title of the series and in Taito’s Land, Sea, Air Squad, and the subsequent Metal Slug series, among others. The three mercs can enter various types of vehicles, depending on the Stage and section. When they enter the vehicles (e.g. the tanks on Stage two and five, the water jet sleighs on Stage four), they can shoot powerful attacks via the A button and absorb bullets via the vehicle. Vehicles do have their own HPs and cannot move beyond certain sections: the sleighs only allow the mercs to cross a swamp section unscathed. Although players can avoid using the vehicles, the possibility of slaughtering enemies’ armies via their own weapons is too good: use it with abandon. The game thus offers some robust if not indispensable vehicle action, as befits titles in this micro-genre.
Let us now move to the audio-visual Facets and the aesthetic presentation. Most vehicles and backgrounds in the game implement pre-rendered graphics that for the time looked quite gorgeous and highly defined. Furthermore, many vehicles are based on real-life military models (e.g. the final C-130 Hercules boss), and thus offer a strong sense of realistic, gritty action. Sprite characters are also well-animated and detailed, and mesh well with the vehicles. Stage design is highly engaging: the three mercs land on a beach (Stage one) and move in the jungle to reach one of Zutula’s key cities (Stage two). From here, they assault and disable an enemy’s frigate (Stage three), move to Zutula’s capital and then enemy’s secret base in the Veldt (Stages four to six), and stop the enemy from fleeing with the president (Stage seven). Add an ultra-detailed colour palette and massive boss vehicles: Mercs is a gorgeous, well-designed game.
The audio by then Alph Lyla member Manami Matsumae offers a solid if not indelible aural experience. As in the case of Dynasty Wars, lady Matsumae created a solid set of themes that match the action-rife visual presentation. As in the case of Carrier Airwing/U.S. Navy, this composer chose a mix of styles oriented towards the “Hollywood blockbuster” style, given the cinematographic presentation of the game. Perhaps the most notable themes are Stage five’s Destroy the enemy’s supply line and Stage six’s Country R’s Air Force, which follow an epic style and against the backdrop of Zutula’s capital city and then the rebels secret (and immense, of course) underground base. Sound effects are also impressive: explosions are loud, mercs’ grunts when hit hilarious, and vehicles are incredibly loud when moving. The game has an overall cool, realistic, and highly detailed aesthetic presentation, and a good atmospheric OST with great sound effects aptly capturing the intense on-screen action.
With an overview of the game’s audio-visual Facets at our disposal, we can discuss difficulty as our next Facet. The game’s difficulty stems from three sources: Game mechanics, Stage design/layout, and rank. A fourth emergent mechanic lies in how players can play the game for score. Simply put, players must not use bombs (i.e. a game mechanic Facet) and therefore clear critical sections via standard attacks (i.e. a Stage design/layout Facet). The game’s mechanics offer a compact list of difficulty Facets: players may learn how to use the weapons at their disposal, and possibly rotate weapons based on their efficiency in clearing a Stage/section. Players can then learn how to use the vehicles on offer to easily clear sections and possibly avoid bombing. Learning how to use bombs in the most devasting manner becomes a key skill, at least if players do not wish to pursue score-driven runs.
Stage design/layout offers another compact list. Stage one is simple and the boss, an Harrier VIII-like plane, can go down easily by exploiting a safe spot. Stages two to six, however, require that players carefully learn where vehicles and enemies with powerful attacks (e.g. missile-shooting turrets in Stage three’s air carrier setting). Bosses all have powerful attacks and tons of HPs, but all their attacks can become trivial once players learn their patterns or safe spots within these patterns. Stage seven is a boss fight in which the mercs must destroy the engines of the militias’ C-130, and then rescue the president. Once players learn how to (easily) dodge the planes’ attacks, the Stage is mostly a victory lap. Rank is based on survival time: enemies become more aggressive and shoot more often. Since this Facet maxes out by Stage three, it plays a minor role.
The fourth Facet offers a nuanced view about how difficulty works in this game, and how it interacts with scoring opportunities. Players start with three bombs and can accumulate one bomb per Stage (two on Stage six). If they use (up) bombs, they will recover three units once the new Stage stars, along with roughly 30% of HPs. If they do not use the bombs, they will start a Stage with the left-over bombs. By Stage six, thus, players can start with eight bombs in stock. Bombs give 3k points per unit as an end-of-stage bonus, along with remaining Stage time. If players never bomb and destroy all enemies and vehicles, they can score 999900 points (possibly, more) and thus max-out the score. This is however only possible if players learn how to clear critical sections and bosses without bombing, which is not an easy feat.
For these reasons, I propose that the four Facets respectively attract 15, 15, 5 and 15 points. For the first Facet, I assign a 5/15 difficulty value, and for the third Facet a 1/5 difficulty value. Once players learn how to clear Stages by using bombs tactically, then they can have a good control of Stages and bosses. I thus sign a 6/15 difficulty value to the second Facet for this reason. Even simple foot soldiers can throw hand grenades and deal heavy damage, and bosses can kill the mercs with two well-placed attacks. Thus, only once players also learn how to clear Stages by not using bombs, can they fully master Stages, bosses and scoring opportunities. I thus assign a 10/15 difficulty value to this Facet, because players must learn how to handle Stages two to six, plus their bosses, without bombing.
The difficulty value I propose for this game is thus 12/50 difficulty points if players forsake scoring opportunities (i.e. stock up bombs). It however raises to 22/50 difficulty points if they go for the no-bombing, score counter-stop route. Mercs/Senjo no Okami II is a low-tier game for intermediate players, if players forsake score opportunities. If players push for the counter-stop, however, the game is considerably more difficult: it is a low-tier game for expert players. Nevertheless, players must keep in mind that good 1-CC’s with a tactical use of bombs will result in certainly solid scores (in my experience, around 700k points). Only the pursuit of counter-stop 1-CC’s considerably raises the difficulty ceiling, with the proviso that the increase is incremental. A “simple” 1-CC is a 12/50 difficulty level: players will progress to 22/50 points as they learn to clear each Stage without bombing.
We can now wrap by swiftly moving through my experiences with the game (Xenny, happy? I will be brief but exhilarating in my brilliance and lack of hubris!). It is October 1990 and I am going to the dodgy arcade located in the small square frequented by the city’s riff-raff, on Sundays. My excuse is that I am on a mission to spy the competition to my uncle’s arcade. The truth is that these guys often snatch games that my uncle manages to overlook, even if (or especially when) they are awesome. When I see the Mercs cab for the first time, I remain impressed because it has a dedicated marquee plate, controls for three players, and even instructions on how to play the game. My uncle either gets dedicated cabs for cabs, or slams the game hardware inside generic cabs with often janky joysticks and buttons, the lazy bum.
My first few credits on the game are interesting. I have played games likes Land, Sea, Air Squad, Crazy Cop and Time Soldiers, but I do not have a very solid understanding of this style of shooting. The freedom of moving as I please is something I am learning again via Dark Seal, but I still feel more confident with “forced scrolling shooters”. I can reach the first boss after a few clumsy attempts in which I tend to backtrack as soon as an enemy throws a grenade: an onlooker even snickers at my perceived daftness. By this first Sunday, I can reach the middle section of the second stage, discover that I can use the big tank and destroy a lot of stuff with it, and then end my credits in many horrible ways. My first impression of the game is that it is too difficult, for my 1990 self.
Over the next few Sundays, however, I learn that the game is very generous with bombs and that I need to learn Stages, to progress. Once I can clear a Stage without using bombs (or using them in specific sections), reaching the Stage four boss is suddenly a relatively easy goal. I start feeling confident that the game is quite approachable. Stages five and six, however, provide a quite sterner challenge. The capital city Stage five has lots of traps that can end a credit very quickly and very brutally, and a cool but difficult train boss. The secret base Stage six also has a few instant death traps and a rocket-launching platform that only needs to rapid hits to kill the three mercs. During October and November, thus, I learn how to stock up bombs for these bosses and clear Stages five and six without bombing.
By the end of November, however, I can safely reach the sixth boss with a healthy stock of bombs and simply bomb the missile-throwing platform to oblivion. The first time I reach Stage seven; I can destroy the C-130 Hercules’ engines quickly. The president is safe, and I almost cannot believe that I have completed one more game by following the equivalent of Sunday morning practice. I play the game until Christmas time, trying to improve my score: I renounce once I realise that I should avoid using bombs. In 2000, during my MAME gap year, I re-discover this game and decided to go for the no-bombs clear. After a couple of months of intermittent practice, I achieve this goal and discover that I can also max out the score. Over the years, I do comfortably limit myself to confident, if a bit lazy quick 1-CC’s.
Let us summarise. Mercs/Senjo No Okami II is a top-down, (Ro)TATE free-scrolling shmup that acts as a sequel to Capcom’s Commando. The game features a vaguely jingoistic plot in which three mercs rescue a former US president from bad guys in African country Zutula. The game also features a classic action game approach with players always pushing forward and strafing soldiers plus vehicles of various size into oblivion. The game is notable because it allows credits with 3-players in co-op mode and is not particularly difficult if players want to 1-CC it. Players can counter-stop the game’s score in a relatively easy manner, but such a goal requires quite more practice. Whatever approach players decide to pursue, the game offers an entertaining challenge, highly detailed graphics and a good OST, and a general great gaming experience. Try it out, and enjoy Capcom’s excellent approach to Hollywood-style bare-chested, merc-crazied manly action.
(2665 words, or 6.7 pages in times new roman, size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; really, this game is quite easy to 1-CC and does not require tons of practice to counter-stop. All bosses have these silly safe spots or safe techniques that make the battles quite manageable. The problem is that even tiny mistakes during boss fights can result in hits causing 50% of HP loss. The truth is that losing energy becomes difficult, once players know how to play the game and avoid bullets (hint: dodge bullets with wise use of joystick). At any case, Zutula is really a Captain Ersatz name for Apartheid-time South Africa, and the intuition is that the main enemy are white suprematist militias not wanting Black Africans to run the country. Play while thinking of shooting white supremacist missed abortions, and the game should become even more delectable indeed!).
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
-
Bassa-Bassa
- Posts: 1530
- Joined: Tue Mar 12, 2019 5:18 pm
Re: RRR: Index of squibs
Interesting. I thought no-bomb clears were just not possible with this (stage 4 boss' flamethrower, for instance). Highly underrated game, if you ask me.
Where are you seeing pre-rendered graphics, though?
Where are you seeing pre-rendered graphics, though?
Mercs (Capcom, 1990)
Thanks Bassa-Bassa. For the flamethrower attack, players should herd the attack on one side and quickly move to the centre. The flamethrower does not change angle quickly. One mistake means losing 70% of energy, though.
The game has also a few instant kills: no-bomb runs are indeed a sudden jump in difficulty. Using one-two bombs on the last three stages may be OK, as the game offers around 1.2 M points in total. Personally, I think that Capcom provided an interesting though not necessarily well-balanced experiment on the (score) counter-stop concept, with the ‘no bombs’ approach.
Re: “pre-rendered”. Let’s start from the basics or I will just confuse you. Can you please suggest a word for the graphic style used for vehicles and explosions in this game? I am tempted with “pseudo-realistic” but it sounds also imprecise. Maybe, “photographic”, "photo-realistic"? This problem has been bugging me for a while, so a good word choice will affect several older and future squibs.
The game has also a few instant kills: no-bomb runs are indeed a sudden jump in difficulty. Using one-two bombs on the last three stages may be OK, as the game offers around 1.2 M points in total. Personally, I think that Capcom provided an interesting though not necessarily well-balanced experiment on the (score) counter-stop concept, with the ‘no bombs’ approach.
Re: “pre-rendered”. Let’s start from the basics or I will just confuse you. Can you please suggest a word for the graphic style used for vehicles and explosions in this game? I am tempted with “pseudo-realistic” but it sounds also imprecise. Maybe, “photographic”, "photo-realistic"? This problem has been bugging me for a while, so a good word choice will affect several older and future squibs.
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
-
Bassa-Bassa
- Posts: 1530
- Joined: Tue Mar 12, 2019 5:18 pm
Re: Mercs (Capcom, 1990)
Well, "pre-rendered" is not a graphic style, it's a technique - models are designed and finished in 3D with a computer and then they pick the animation frames as they will without much retouch. A sample of pre-rendered visuals with non-realistic, abstract style:Randorama wrote: ↑Wed Jun 04, 2025 1:02 amRe: “pre-rendered”. Let’s start from the basics or I will just confuse you. Can you please suggest a word for the graphic style used for vehicles and explosions in this game? I am tempted with “pseudo-realistic” but it sounds also imprecise. Maybe, “photographic”, "photo-realistic"? This problem has been bugging me for a while, so a good word choice will affect several older and future squibs.
It's possible they created some form of very basic 3D model for stuff like the jeep and then they finished it with pixel art, but doesn't look like it's the case, if you ask me. Capcom's artists were well known by their level of expertize at pixel art, and getting good enough photographs of a real jeep to draw the 8 animation frames the game needs shouldn't have been too hard. The explosions, is a good question given how well animated they are, but I still think no CG program was used for their creation, it's 1990 after all.
As for which word this art style should be called with, I'm not the best to say. I believe there's still a lot of stylization involved, even if there's an intent to (usually) keep real proportions, so maybe "pseudo-realistic" is not bad. But in the end, for me, it's not different in this regard to something like Magic Sword, as art style is one thing and theme is another altogether.
Re: RRR: Index of squibs
Yes to everything, in the sense that I will keep in mind your feedback already from the next squib. Regarding "pre-rendered" being a technique...yes, never mind and sorry: sometimes it suffices to read one page before asking or writing sentences down.
I am partial to "pseudo-realistic" because I am not sure how to define a certain approach to art style that Capcom followed on some of their games regarding a "militaristic" style (e.g. 19XX). The problem is of course that the label still partially conflates the two aspects ("Facets", in the squib), but in the meanwhile I know which errors I should be removing, when revising squibs. It might be a long process and trial and error, but I can live with that.
I am partial to "pseudo-realistic" because I am not sure how to define a certain approach to art style that Capcom followed on some of their games regarding a "militaristic" style (e.g. 19XX). The problem is of course that the label still partially conflates the two aspects ("Facets", in the squib), but in the meanwhile I know which errors I should be removing, when revising squibs. It might be a long process and trial and error, but I can live with that.
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
Re: RRR: Index of squibs
I played Senjou no Ookami II for many hours last night. I can see why some people would find this game frustrating initially. Slow-ish movement, fast bullets, relentless zako, etc. If you keep at it though, you can start to appreciate how well calibrated the system and design are in relation to each other. I'm sure a no Mega Crash, no damage clear is possible.
I was able to nearly counter-stop the score just by beating the game with 9-10 Mega Crashes, no point-leeching, and skipping past quite a few enemy vehicles. Kommander mentioned this in his article, saying the "earning elements" (i.e. novice traps, I suppose) turned off beginners, and enthusiasts were let down by the simplified scoring. I'll take a counter-stop as a stand-in for S-Rank over having to leech a bunch of zako for an hour. Incidentally, Capcom made the same counter-stop "oversight" in The Punisher.
Regarding zako, the mixture of fixed enemy and random zako spawns is excellent and adds a ton of detail to the game. I wish that feature was a mainstay of the genre.
Unfortunately I have to burst your bubble on the "white nationalist militias" hypothesis. According to the original story, the enemies are à la Sandinistas, hued fairer due to Japanese sheepishness. At least that gives the leeway to imagine mowing down hundreds of Rhodesian bastards if that's your inclination. Maybe Capcom USA's "embellishment" was inspired by Lethal Weapon 2?
I was able to nearly counter-stop the score just by beating the game with 9-10 Mega Crashes, no point-leeching, and skipping past quite a few enemy vehicles. Kommander mentioned this in his article, saying the "earning elements" (i.e. novice traps, I suppose) turned off beginners, and enthusiasts were let down by the simplified scoring. I'll take a counter-stop as a stand-in for S-Rank over having to leech a bunch of zako for an hour. Incidentally, Capcom made the same counter-stop "oversight" in The Punisher.
Regarding zako, the mixture of fixed enemy and random zako spawns is excellent and adds a ton of detail to the game. I wish that feature was a mainstay of the genre.
Unfortunately I have to burst your bubble on the "white nationalist militias" hypothesis. According to the original story, the enemies are à la Sandinistas, hued fairer due to Japanese sheepishness. At least that gives the leeway to imagine mowing down hundreds of Rhodesian bastards if that's your inclination. Maybe Capcom USA's "embellishment" was inspired by Lethal Weapon 2?
https://www.ne.jp/asahi/hzk/kommander/ookami2story.htmlGAME KOMMANDER wrote:In [redacted month] 19XX, a military coup occurred in country "R." due to conflict between revolutionaries and conservatives.
At the same time, the former president of the United States, who was visiting country "R." for disarmament talks, was kidnapped by revolutionary forces.
In response, the United States side, concerned about provoking the revolutionary forces, avoided apparent military intervention to rescue the former president, and instead secretly requested the deployment of their elite mercenary unit, Wolf Force.
Mercs (Capcom, 1990)
The world and US versions mention "the rebels" in the R country (Zutula), with no mention of conservative forces: just checked on MAME, and the "plot" paragraph was based on these versions. I guess that this is the plot of the JP version? Carrier Airwing has also different plots across versions, though I did not mention those differences in the squib (now: once I will revise the squibs, I will expand/correct as necessary).
Zutula does however look like South Africa (or perhaps Namibia? Stage five has vaguely "German-looking" buildings, which I remember seeing in South Africa/Namibia/Rhodesia), but then I'd imagine that CIA would send the MERCS to *preserve* Apartheid, honestly. Wild dreams about shooting white supremacist militias should make the game more enjoyable anyway, even if they run counter to the actual plot.
For score/game-related topics, though, I guess that we have the R2RKMF thread as a more focused thread. I'd be curious to make a "cheat" run (invicibility on), and figure out what might be the maximal score (i.e. bonus points from all items, destroy all parts of all vehicles, etc.).
Next, I will revise an older and shorter squib about Capcom Sports Club.
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
Capcom Sports Club (Capcom, 1997)
This week we have a revision of an early squib in the “Sports” thread: Capcom Sports Club. An interesting fact about the game is that only the tennis mini-game was ported to Dreamcast, so that players could enjoy it online (read Netto De Tennis). The game now appears on Capcom’s Capcom Home Arcade compilation in its integral form. The old squib is here, for those who want to refresh their memory. Onwards we go:
Capcom Sports Club (Capcom, 1997) is a mixed sports game that includes “mini-versions” of (association) football, basketball, and tennis. The game is notable for its colourful, late CPS-2 graphics, mix of Latin Samba/Calypso music (pseudo urban techno for the basketball game) and cartoon-like characters. The game is also notable for its remarkably low difficulty but great atmosphere. It predates late 1990s/early 2000s “party” games like Sega’s Samba de Amigo! or Super Monkey Ball, at least in its joyful atmosphere. It is also part of a “swansong” period for 2D games in general, and 2D arcade sports in particular. Sega #D sports titles (e.g. Virtua Tennis, Virtua athlete) would take centre stage, afterwards. My goal is this squib is to explain how this game manages to handle the three sports in a delightful way and should a worthy game to add in a 1-CC CV, or as a party game.
Let present a context for the game in a highly compact manner. The idea of combining three games in one was not new for Capcom: Three Wonders in 1991 included an action game, a shmup and a puzzle. This conceptual successor focuses on three sports, and allows players to complete each game if they have the skills and interest to do so. However, 2D arcade sports games, especially those of the “violent” kind (e.g. Taito’s Hat Trick Hero) were a fading genre by the latter part of the 1990s. SNK obviously keep producing such titles on Neo Geo (e.g. SNK’s Super Sidekicks’s series, Data East Street Hoop and Wind Jammers). However, the advent of Sega’s 3D, AM2-based titles (e.g. Virtua Striker) meant that this sub-/micro-genre was bound do disappear, sooner or later. Capcom’s CPS2 was also on the wane, even if Capcom released games on it until 200X’s Hyper Street Fighter Anniversary Edition.
Against this melancholic background, the game offers a simple if entertaining experience, though via a virtual plot. Players simply the game as a collection of mini-sports in which they can achieve “victory”. Victory can be achieved by playing against the CPU or in vs. mode. Upon starting a credit, players can choose which sport/mini-game start first. If a player wins a single tournament, the game will offer a prompt allowing players to end the credit or continue with another sport/mini-game. Players who can win all three tournaments (i.e. clear each mini-game) will be treated to the credits, effectively having 1-CC’ed the game. After each victory, players receive a prize that represents their cumulative score. Interestingly, players can choose three-letter moniker and sex/gender after the first match won, and thus aim to get the best score/prize money by clearing each mini-game, and possibly all mini-games.
The three mini-games are called Smash Stars, Kick Stars, Dunk Stars. After starting a credit, players can choose one of the three games, and then choose a team (Dunk, kick) or player (Smash). Smash Stars offers a choice between eight “beginners” and “advanced” players (i.e. 16 players in total), but only features ladies. Each character has differing skills (e.g. strength, control, “miracle” shots), even though one skill prevails over the others in each character. Players will probably notice that the Chinese advanced player “Li Li” resembles another famous Chinese Capcom character (in case guessing is too hard: here). Kick Stars is actually a street foosball game: choose one out of eight national teams and their respective modules (defensive, offensive, balanced). Dunk Stars is a 3-on-3 street basketball game, also with eight teams, and with different combinations of power guards, forwards and centre players.
The games’ mechanics are simple. In Dunk Stars, the joystick controls one of the three characters. Players can shoot for points with the A button, and pass it from one player to another with the B button. Three pointers are possible, but follow rigid rules: players must shoot from specific court points. Players can then shoot or dunk for two points, depending on the distance from the net. When not holding the ball, the A button control jumps/blocks against the other team’s shot. The B button is used for passing the ball or performing a “steal”, which is a thinly disguised slap on the hands of the other character (…or face, in some cases). Hold A for long distance shots and powerful dunks, which may end up smashing the net and the board. Matches last two minutes, and players can win the tournament after winning three matches.
Smash Stars resembles traditional overhead tennis games (e.g. classic NES Tennis), instead. The joystick controls the character in eight directions: the A button control straight shots, the B button volleys, and pushing A+B triggers lob shots. Each character has skills (e.g. power, speed, stamina, back- and fore-hand shot skills); character from the “advanced” course have higher skills and thus provide a harder challenge. Players will thus need to win the final two games of a single-set match, and will enter the tie-break if they reach a 6-6 score. Note that characters change courts: be ready to learn how to control a character when they are on the top side of the screen. Players can also win the tournament by winning three matches in a row. Interestingly, Smash Stars is the only mini-game in which the flexible rank system is noticeable. We discuss this matter along with difficulty, however.
Kick Stars resembles Data East’s foosball title Back Street Soccer, but also aims to capture the feeling of Street football. Players control one character from 5-man teams with the joystick, moving them in eight directions. The A button is for shots, the B is for passes, at least when characters control the ball. When characters do not control the ball, the A button is for kicks in the shins (pardon, “steals”) and the B button is for usually dangerous tackles that can also steal the ball. Characters can also perform charged/special shots when players hold the A button and the release it. Each of the three fields is bounded, so the ball will bounce back if it goes against the bounds: characters can strike bouncing balls as soon as they control them. Players can also win three matches of two minutes each, before winning the foosball tournament.
As we have a good grasp of the game’s mechanics, we can move to a discussion of the game’s audio-visual Facets. The games distinguish themselves in having quirky visual designs. Smash Stars features chibi ladies with small bodies and big, adorable hairstyles and eyes. Matches occur in quaint locations such as forests and beaches. Kick Stars features lanky male players with disgruntled faces and comical running gaits. matches take place in down-to-earth locations such as beaches and small squares at night. Dunk Stars features triplets of male players with heads vaguely resembling Duplo characters; the final stage apparently being a court on a skyscraper’s construction site. Stages are colourful, with a pastel palette typical of CP2 games, and characters display very fluid animations. Overall, the settings suggest that these games are far away from the shining lights of professional sports.
The OST offer a similar soothing atmosphere. 1990s members of Alph Lyla, Hideki Okugawa and Ryoji Yamamoto, created a beautiful Latin Jazz OST for Smash Stars, as exemplified by Let’s go to the ocean, Stage three’s theme. Football Stars moves to Samba and other vaguely Latin-sounding themes, aptly evoking the feel of playing street football in locations that might be next to Copacabana and Ipanema. The joyous atmosphere of Football Samba elegantly captures this mini-game’s zany OST. Dunk Stars switches to 90s style Eurodance beat, with Stage three’s Altimeter brilliantly evoking the feeling of playing street basketball on a skyscraper’s building site. Overall, Capcom Sports club manages to offer the feeling of playing street/improvised sports in summer, while at the same offering distinctive audio-visual identities for each game. Smash Stars is cute and soothing, Kick Stars is zany and flippant, Dunk Stars is cool and daring.
Let us move to the discussion of difficulty, then. I think that two Facets compose the difficulty of each game: game mechanics and rank. However, rank plays a noticeable part only in Smash Stars, in my experience. Let us proceed in order, anyway. Players should have an easy time to master the controls in each mini-game, especially since they are near-identical to previous games in their respective sports. In each mini-game, then, players must learn the simple tricks/techniques to score points. In Kick Stars, a simple technique to score goals is to shoot at goal from an angle, close to the goal keeper, and then tap in the bouncing ball. Bash and mown down adversaries as soon as they catch the ball, and keep them under pressure by scoring goals. In Dunk Stars, let adversaries attack, then steal the ball before they shoot, and pass it to another player.
Smash Stars requires more refined scoring techniques, however, and a good grasp of the other characters’ strengths and weaknesses. Players thus need to understand when to smash, use lobs, passing shots, and so on. Nevertheless, players who master all the shots and learn to play a good baseline game should 1-CC this mini-game easily. Rank is based on gaming time, and amounts to characters becoming faster and more tenacious if players core quickly and aggressively. However, rank is quite flexible suddenly lower their skills if players drop sets or simply play poorly. Players can control the flow of the match in each mini-match, even if Dunk Stars and Kick Stars are so easy that rank may feel as always being manageable. Each mini-game becomes statically harder if selected as the second or third mini-game: the sequence Smash Stars, [Dunk Stars[/i] and Kick Stars guarantees the lowest static difficulty level.
Another Facet influencing is the possibility to play against the secret characters: Melody (i.e. the girl appearing in the cut-scenes) for Smash Stars, the golden team(s) for the other two sports. The conditions for triggering these encounters are interesting even if flexible. Simplifying matter a bit, players must not concede any sets/goals/dunks, and must score points awarding high money prices after each match. When players meet these conditions, the much stronger Melody/golden teams will enter the fray. Melody is a punishing character who can only lose via specific patterns. The two golden teams are very aggressive, but also manageable adversaries. If players do not concede points, choose an advanced player in Smash Stars and trigger Melody as the final adversary, the game indeed becomes a considerable challenge. Melody at maximum rank likes to land service aces at an incredible speed, after all.
Overall, I would say that the game’s difficulty divides into two halves of 25 points from a standard maximum of 50 points. The game mechanics and scoring techniques in each mini-game justify 2/25 points each, for a total of 6/25 difficulty points. If players choose advanced characters in Smash Stars, the difficulty rises to 8/25 difficulty points. Rank is easy to manipulate in each mini-game: avoid scoring too much, a Facet motivating 3/25 difficulty points. Players who decide to face the game at maximum rank can probably 1-CC Dunk Stars and Kick Stars without too much extra effort, even if facing the secret adversary/teams noticeably increases difficulty. I propose that rank difficulty points range from 3/25 to 12/25, for a total difficulty value ranging from 11/50 to 20/50 difficulty points. Capcom Sports Club is a top-tier game for beginner players, up to a top-tier game for intermediate players.
Let us move to the final part that Xenny absolutely adores to read: my experiences with the game. I confess that this time my experiences will be short, because this is a game that I discovered relatively “late” in my gaming life. It is summer 2003, a period in which I am back on track with my BA studies and CP2 emulation is going at full speed. During this period, I have also started buying console ports for PS2, Dreamcast and Saturn, since by this time these are my only channels to enjoy new arcade games. Capcom Sports Club is a new emulation release that leaves me rather cold, at the beginning. It seems to recycle arcade sports ideas from dedicated titles like Street Hoop, and add a cartoony/goofy style that leaves me rather cold. Some CP2 games honestly feel “cheap”, for my 2003, arrogant self.
The unpleasant truth is that after a couple of weeks of ignoring a game to which I have free, and perhaps not so legal access, something clicks in my head. The football game is simply and trivially easy but humorous, the basketball game has a splendid final stage and music theme, and the tennis game is simple but well-designed. Besides, the games are easy and in this part of my life, I want to get game clear after clear is my own personal mission, within my gaming hobby time. As a man who feels on a mission to make up on lost time, I either play games to clear them, or I cast them aside; enjoyment may emerge as a side-product, if I am lucky. Thus, I clear each mini-game and then all three mini-games in a row, without too many problems.
It is however summer, of the pleasant and cool kind that we have in my hometown, at least in 2003. I start really enjoying playing this game for the pleasant, soothing atmosphere, the cute anime-style design, and cute noises that characters do when they score. Besides, I decide to spend tons of money on the Dreamcast exclusive port, and I discover that the game has secret teams/characters. I can easily beat the two golden teams in the basketball and football mini-games, but Melody from the tennis game gives me tons of trouble. By September 2003, I can however beat Melody in any form and I can generally clear the game in any way I like. I love the Dreamcast port of the tennis game, but I do think that I spent too much money on a single mini-game. Oh well, welcome to console gaming, I daresay.
As years pass, I develop the habit of playing the game every summer for a few credits on end. It is an enjoyable experience when I am in Utrecht during my MA, in Australia during my PhD and during Australian winters (i.e. Northern Hemisphere’s summers). I also play the game during the cool Swedish summers and sweltering Chinese summers; come July at most, and I am happy to have a few rounds of this game, even if I tend to avoid the golden teams, and particularly Melody. I write the first squib in 2023, on an August day in which I had a few pleasant runs on the game. This was also a period in which I decide to write short, potentially humorous articles about my gaming experiences: squibs, as the one you are about to finish reading.
Let us conclude, instead of grazing too much at our navels. Capcom Sports Club is an arcade sports game combining Dunk Stars, Smash Stars and Kick Stars, three mini-games on street/casual basketball, tennis, and foosball. The game is notable for being relatively easy but entertaining, a lovely graphic style full of pastel shades, and zany, cool and soothing OSTs to match the action. Players can enjoy the game by scoring lots of points against the CPU or in vs. mode, but either way they can appreciate simple sports action from a lovely arcade perspective. The game offers a very approachable challenge for the 1-CC that even beginner players can complete; a 1-CC with game’s mascot Melody as the final adversary is a considerable feat of skills. Be sure to enjoy the game on a good summer day, and to appreciate this little arcade gem in its affable simplicity.
(2613 words, or 6.6 pages, times new roman, size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; the Dreamcast version is quite good for 2P player mode online, which is the reason Capcom ported it in the first place. In Kick Stars and to a lesser extent Dunk Stars, scoring goals/points trigger cheering crowds appearing on screen. Press the A or B buttons to have multiple “jumping, cheering girls” to additionally appear on screen. Smash Stars has a more serious tone, but Melody plays with a star-shaped racquet, in a castle room at night with candle lights, and with a pug following her. Please do not take the game seriously; they did not create it for this purpose. Also no, Li Li is not the strongest player in Smash Stars but she is outrageously cute, of course).
Capcom Sports Club (Capcom, 1997) is a mixed sports game that includes “mini-versions” of (association) football, basketball, and tennis. The game is notable for its colourful, late CPS-2 graphics, mix of Latin Samba/Calypso music (pseudo urban techno for the basketball game) and cartoon-like characters. The game is also notable for its remarkably low difficulty but great atmosphere. It predates late 1990s/early 2000s “party” games like Sega’s Samba de Amigo! or Super Monkey Ball, at least in its joyful atmosphere. It is also part of a “swansong” period for 2D games in general, and 2D arcade sports in particular. Sega #D sports titles (e.g. Virtua Tennis, Virtua athlete) would take centre stage, afterwards. My goal is this squib is to explain how this game manages to handle the three sports in a delightful way and should a worthy game to add in a 1-CC CV, or as a party game.
Let present a context for the game in a highly compact manner. The idea of combining three games in one was not new for Capcom: Three Wonders in 1991 included an action game, a shmup and a puzzle. This conceptual successor focuses on three sports, and allows players to complete each game if they have the skills and interest to do so. However, 2D arcade sports games, especially those of the “violent” kind (e.g. Taito’s Hat Trick Hero) were a fading genre by the latter part of the 1990s. SNK obviously keep producing such titles on Neo Geo (e.g. SNK’s Super Sidekicks’s series, Data East Street Hoop and Wind Jammers). However, the advent of Sega’s 3D, AM2-based titles (e.g. Virtua Striker) meant that this sub-/micro-genre was bound do disappear, sooner or later. Capcom’s CPS2 was also on the wane, even if Capcom released games on it until 200X’s Hyper Street Fighter Anniversary Edition.
Against this melancholic background, the game offers a simple if entertaining experience, though via a virtual plot. Players simply the game as a collection of mini-sports in which they can achieve “victory”. Victory can be achieved by playing against the CPU or in vs. mode. Upon starting a credit, players can choose which sport/mini-game start first. If a player wins a single tournament, the game will offer a prompt allowing players to end the credit or continue with another sport/mini-game. Players who can win all three tournaments (i.e. clear each mini-game) will be treated to the credits, effectively having 1-CC’ed the game. After each victory, players receive a prize that represents their cumulative score. Interestingly, players can choose three-letter moniker and sex/gender after the first match won, and thus aim to get the best score/prize money by clearing each mini-game, and possibly all mini-games.
The three mini-games are called Smash Stars, Kick Stars, Dunk Stars. After starting a credit, players can choose one of the three games, and then choose a team (Dunk, kick) or player (Smash). Smash Stars offers a choice between eight “beginners” and “advanced” players (i.e. 16 players in total), but only features ladies. Each character has differing skills (e.g. strength, control, “miracle” shots), even though one skill prevails over the others in each character. Players will probably notice that the Chinese advanced player “Li Li” resembles another famous Chinese Capcom character (in case guessing is too hard: here). Kick Stars is actually a street foosball game: choose one out of eight national teams and their respective modules (defensive, offensive, balanced). Dunk Stars is a 3-on-3 street basketball game, also with eight teams, and with different combinations of power guards, forwards and centre players.
The games’ mechanics are simple. In Dunk Stars, the joystick controls one of the three characters. Players can shoot for points with the A button, and pass it from one player to another with the B button. Three pointers are possible, but follow rigid rules: players must shoot from specific court points. Players can then shoot or dunk for two points, depending on the distance from the net. When not holding the ball, the A button control jumps/blocks against the other team’s shot. The B button is used for passing the ball or performing a “steal”, which is a thinly disguised slap on the hands of the other character (…or face, in some cases). Hold A for long distance shots and powerful dunks, which may end up smashing the net and the board. Matches last two minutes, and players can win the tournament after winning three matches.
Smash Stars resembles traditional overhead tennis games (e.g. classic NES Tennis), instead. The joystick controls the character in eight directions: the A button control straight shots, the B button volleys, and pushing A+B triggers lob shots. Each character has skills (e.g. power, speed, stamina, back- and fore-hand shot skills); character from the “advanced” course have higher skills and thus provide a harder challenge. Players will thus need to win the final two games of a single-set match, and will enter the tie-break if they reach a 6-6 score. Note that characters change courts: be ready to learn how to control a character when they are on the top side of the screen. Players can also win the tournament by winning three matches in a row. Interestingly, Smash Stars is the only mini-game in which the flexible rank system is noticeable. We discuss this matter along with difficulty, however.
Kick Stars resembles Data East’s foosball title Back Street Soccer, but also aims to capture the feeling of Street football. Players control one character from 5-man teams with the joystick, moving them in eight directions. The A button is for shots, the B is for passes, at least when characters control the ball. When characters do not control the ball, the A button is for kicks in the shins (pardon, “steals”) and the B button is for usually dangerous tackles that can also steal the ball. Characters can also perform charged/special shots when players hold the A button and the release it. Each of the three fields is bounded, so the ball will bounce back if it goes against the bounds: characters can strike bouncing balls as soon as they control them. Players can also win three matches of two minutes each, before winning the foosball tournament.
As we have a good grasp of the game’s mechanics, we can move to a discussion of the game’s audio-visual Facets. The games distinguish themselves in having quirky visual designs. Smash Stars features chibi ladies with small bodies and big, adorable hairstyles and eyes. Matches occur in quaint locations such as forests and beaches. Kick Stars features lanky male players with disgruntled faces and comical running gaits. matches take place in down-to-earth locations such as beaches and small squares at night. Dunk Stars features triplets of male players with heads vaguely resembling Duplo characters; the final stage apparently being a court on a skyscraper’s construction site. Stages are colourful, with a pastel palette typical of CP2 games, and characters display very fluid animations. Overall, the settings suggest that these games are far away from the shining lights of professional sports.
The OST offer a similar soothing atmosphere. 1990s members of Alph Lyla, Hideki Okugawa and Ryoji Yamamoto, created a beautiful Latin Jazz OST for Smash Stars, as exemplified by Let’s go to the ocean, Stage three’s theme. Football Stars moves to Samba and other vaguely Latin-sounding themes, aptly evoking the feel of playing street football in locations that might be next to Copacabana and Ipanema. The joyous atmosphere of Football Samba elegantly captures this mini-game’s zany OST. Dunk Stars switches to 90s style Eurodance beat, with Stage three’s Altimeter brilliantly evoking the feeling of playing street basketball on a skyscraper’s building site. Overall, Capcom Sports club manages to offer the feeling of playing street/improvised sports in summer, while at the same offering distinctive audio-visual identities for each game. Smash Stars is cute and soothing, Kick Stars is zany and flippant, Dunk Stars is cool and daring.
Let us move to the discussion of difficulty, then. I think that two Facets compose the difficulty of each game: game mechanics and rank. However, rank plays a noticeable part only in Smash Stars, in my experience. Let us proceed in order, anyway. Players should have an easy time to master the controls in each mini-game, especially since they are near-identical to previous games in their respective sports. In each mini-game, then, players must learn the simple tricks/techniques to score points. In Kick Stars, a simple technique to score goals is to shoot at goal from an angle, close to the goal keeper, and then tap in the bouncing ball. Bash and mown down adversaries as soon as they catch the ball, and keep them under pressure by scoring goals. In Dunk Stars, let adversaries attack, then steal the ball before they shoot, and pass it to another player.
Smash Stars requires more refined scoring techniques, however, and a good grasp of the other characters’ strengths and weaknesses. Players thus need to understand when to smash, use lobs, passing shots, and so on. Nevertheless, players who master all the shots and learn to play a good baseline game should 1-CC this mini-game easily. Rank is based on gaming time, and amounts to characters becoming faster and more tenacious if players core quickly and aggressively. However, rank is quite flexible suddenly lower their skills if players drop sets or simply play poorly. Players can control the flow of the match in each mini-match, even if Dunk Stars and Kick Stars are so easy that rank may feel as always being manageable. Each mini-game becomes statically harder if selected as the second or third mini-game: the sequence Smash Stars, [Dunk Stars[/i] and Kick Stars guarantees the lowest static difficulty level.
Another Facet influencing is the possibility to play against the secret characters: Melody (i.e. the girl appearing in the cut-scenes) for Smash Stars, the golden team(s) for the other two sports. The conditions for triggering these encounters are interesting even if flexible. Simplifying matter a bit, players must not concede any sets/goals/dunks, and must score points awarding high money prices after each match. When players meet these conditions, the much stronger Melody/golden teams will enter the fray. Melody is a punishing character who can only lose via specific patterns. The two golden teams are very aggressive, but also manageable adversaries. If players do not concede points, choose an advanced player in Smash Stars and trigger Melody as the final adversary, the game indeed becomes a considerable challenge. Melody at maximum rank likes to land service aces at an incredible speed, after all.
Overall, I would say that the game’s difficulty divides into two halves of 25 points from a standard maximum of 50 points. The game mechanics and scoring techniques in each mini-game justify 2/25 points each, for a total of 6/25 difficulty points. If players choose advanced characters in Smash Stars, the difficulty rises to 8/25 difficulty points. Rank is easy to manipulate in each mini-game: avoid scoring too much, a Facet motivating 3/25 difficulty points. Players who decide to face the game at maximum rank can probably 1-CC Dunk Stars and Kick Stars without too much extra effort, even if facing the secret adversary/teams noticeably increases difficulty. I propose that rank difficulty points range from 3/25 to 12/25, for a total difficulty value ranging from 11/50 to 20/50 difficulty points. Capcom Sports Club is a top-tier game for beginner players, up to a top-tier game for intermediate players.
Let us move to the final part that Xenny absolutely adores to read: my experiences with the game. I confess that this time my experiences will be short, because this is a game that I discovered relatively “late” in my gaming life. It is summer 2003, a period in which I am back on track with my BA studies and CP2 emulation is going at full speed. During this period, I have also started buying console ports for PS2, Dreamcast and Saturn, since by this time these are my only channels to enjoy new arcade games. Capcom Sports Club is a new emulation release that leaves me rather cold, at the beginning. It seems to recycle arcade sports ideas from dedicated titles like Street Hoop, and add a cartoony/goofy style that leaves me rather cold. Some CP2 games honestly feel “cheap”, for my 2003, arrogant self.
The unpleasant truth is that after a couple of weeks of ignoring a game to which I have free, and perhaps not so legal access, something clicks in my head. The football game is simply and trivially easy but humorous, the basketball game has a splendid final stage and music theme, and the tennis game is simple but well-designed. Besides, the games are easy and in this part of my life, I want to get game clear after clear is my own personal mission, within my gaming hobby time. As a man who feels on a mission to make up on lost time, I either play games to clear them, or I cast them aside; enjoyment may emerge as a side-product, if I am lucky. Thus, I clear each mini-game and then all three mini-games in a row, without too many problems.
It is however summer, of the pleasant and cool kind that we have in my hometown, at least in 2003. I start really enjoying playing this game for the pleasant, soothing atmosphere, the cute anime-style design, and cute noises that characters do when they score. Besides, I decide to spend tons of money on the Dreamcast exclusive port, and I discover that the game has secret teams/characters. I can easily beat the two golden teams in the basketball and football mini-games, but Melody from the tennis game gives me tons of trouble. By September 2003, I can however beat Melody in any form and I can generally clear the game in any way I like. I love the Dreamcast port of the tennis game, but I do think that I spent too much money on a single mini-game. Oh well, welcome to console gaming, I daresay.
As years pass, I develop the habit of playing the game every summer for a few credits on end. It is an enjoyable experience when I am in Utrecht during my MA, in Australia during my PhD and during Australian winters (i.e. Northern Hemisphere’s summers). I also play the game during the cool Swedish summers and sweltering Chinese summers; come July at most, and I am happy to have a few rounds of this game, even if I tend to avoid the golden teams, and particularly Melody. I write the first squib in 2023, on an August day in which I had a few pleasant runs on the game. This was also a period in which I decide to write short, potentially humorous articles about my gaming experiences: squibs, as the one you are about to finish reading.
Let us conclude, instead of grazing too much at our navels. Capcom Sports Club is an arcade sports game combining Dunk Stars, Smash Stars and Kick Stars, three mini-games on street/casual basketball, tennis, and foosball. The game is notable for being relatively easy but entertaining, a lovely graphic style full of pastel shades, and zany, cool and soothing OSTs to match the action. Players can enjoy the game by scoring lots of points against the CPU or in vs. mode, but either way they can appreciate simple sports action from a lovely arcade perspective. The game offers a very approachable challenge for the 1-CC that even beginner players can complete; a 1-CC with game’s mascot Melody as the final adversary is a considerable feat of skills. Be sure to enjoy the game on a good summer day, and to appreciate this little arcade gem in its affable simplicity.
(2613 words, or 6.6 pages, times new roman, size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; the Dreamcast version is quite good for 2P player mode online, which is the reason Capcom ported it in the first place. In Kick Stars and to a lesser extent Dunk Stars, scoring goals/points trigger cheering crowds appearing on screen. Press the A or B buttons to have multiple “jumping, cheering girls” to additionally appear on screen. Smash Stars has a more serious tone, but Melody plays with a star-shaped racquet, in a castle room at night with candle lights, and with a pug following her. Please do not take the game seriously; they did not create it for this purpose. Also no, Li Li is not the strongest player in Smash Stars but she is outrageously cute, of course).
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
Wolf Fang/Rohga Armor Force (Data East, 1991)
In this squib we discuss Wolf Fang/Rohga Armour Force, a DECO game that features an Australasian (=Australia and New Zealand) setting, hordes of mechas in 2001 (yeah, right) and one of the hottest rocking OSTs ever heard in a videogame. The game received a Saturn/PS1 in 1996, and ports to Xbox One and PC were re-released in 2013, and City Connection released a new PC version in 2024 (see the wiki). A new port via the Evercade system should also be approaching fast. The game is also notable because the EU(ropean) and J(a)P(an) versions have a stage select system, whereas the US version forces players to fight through each Stage. As per DECO standards, there are several revisions. The game has a considerable personal relevance for me, a fact that might become clear once we reach the discussion of my experiences with it. Without further ado:
Wolf Fang/Rohga Armor Force (Data East, 1991) is an action/R2RKMF game involving huge customisable mechas, a not-so-well-trodden setting (Australia, with some stages in New Zealand), and a glorious OST. Players control mechas from the Wolf Fang organisation and must fight “Ragnarok”, a threat to global peace and the antagonist of Vapor Trail, the shmup and first chapter of the series. The game is notable for featuring huge sprites, very frantic and sometimes quirky action, and a customisable choice for mechas and Stage paths reminiscent of Taito’s Darius. The game is also notable for its difficulty: the US version is a veritable action marathon, and only the most fanatical players may be able to 1-CC it. Nevertheless, this is one of Data East’s outstanding titles from the early 1990s that all arcade fans should try and possibly appreciate. The goal of this squib is to explain why this is the case.
For this game, I would like to focus on a narrow context in which I outline Data East’s technical progress within the landscape of 1991’s arcade gaming. As we all know, Capcom’s Street Fighter II changed this landscape forever, the moment it appeared on the horizon. Other companies were however also pushing intensely to release games that would not fade away quickly, due to this game’s immense emotive pull. Data East moved to more powerful custom boards by 1990, and was releasing games that presented noticeable design improvements over their 1980s “jankfests”. Whether they were successful, however, was another matter entirely. Edward Randy was a brilliantly designed but ultra-quirky action platformer; Joe & Mac had more solid gameplay but was perhaps too easy. Mutant Fighter/Death Brade was in equal parts brilliant and irritating; 1992’s releases Dragon Gun and Boogie Wings were aesthetic masterpieces, but absurdly difficult.
We leave aside many other titles (e.g. Tumble Pop, Diet Go-Go, Dark Seal, Nitro Ball) to avoid going too far away from designated title; let us thus concentrate and the plot and setting. Wolf Fang is set in an alternate 2001, two years after the events of Vapor Trail. Ragnarok, a mysterious group of extremely wealthy world conquerors, has lost the main battle and has retired to Australia and New Zealand. The U.N.-based Skull Fang battalion and Ragnarok have however considerably progressed in the arms race, to the point that they now have powerful Mechas at their disposal. The Wolf Fang’s mission is to defeat the Ragnarok forces for the last time, thus freeing the survivors of these countries from Ragnarok’s oppression. The mission is not completely successful: shmup sequel Skull Fang is the third and final chapter of this extremely 1990s-style but rather enjoyable S(cience)F(iction)/Mecha saga.
Even if the plot and world setting may appear trite to our modern eyes, they set up the action for the game and its mechanics in an elegant if perhaps slightly complex manner. Players control the mechas with the joystick in eight directions, with the B button controlling jumps. Press either down, down-right, or down-left plus B to let mechas slide or dash in one direction, or up, up-left, up-right to perform high jumps. The A button control the main attack, which can be powered twice via the orange “power up” capsule. Players can choose among the “V” (wide shot), C (charge shot), “L” (laser shot) and “G” (grenade shot) when the weapon capsules appear. Players can keep their weapon of choice or change it by selecting a different weapon, or can alternatively destroy the weapon pod to release a mini-bomb.
The Mechas can shoot in any direction except for the down direction by using the joystick to point the rifle’s shooting direction: jump and aim down, down-right, or down-left. The mechas can also use a close-range attack when enemies are at punching/slashing range, and deliver massive damage. Ramming or jumping on enemies also deliver some damage, ironically enough (the mechas are heavy, I guess). The C button controls secondary attacks, which players choose once they build their mechas. Before we discuss this splendid, game-specific Facet, it is worth noting that the C button has three recharge levels that players can activate by waiting approximately three seconds per level, plus one transitional second. Level one secondary attacks have good destructive power; level two attacks have lasting power; level three attacks act as screen-clearing mini-bombs.
The game’s mechanics thus seem relatively complex but all have their function and purpose, in-game. The way these mechanics works heavily depends on how players act during the preliminary phase of the game, when they choose or customise their Mecha. Before starting Stage one, players choose between a “standard model” or “customised model” of Mecha. In the first case, they choose one of four Mecha types: offensive, defensive, mixed model, secondary weapon-oriented. If players customise the Mechas, they can choose among four types of secondary weapons (homing missile, flamethrower, grenade launcher, “electrigger”), Mechas’ propulsive system (two-legged walker, two-legged hover, four-legged crawler, six-wheeler), and close-range weapon/arms (knuckle shot, beam sword, iron claw, pile bunker). Players can thus choose one of 4*4*4=64 possible Mecha types, each with its own highly evocative name in the JP version (e.g. “TYPE02-Soryu” for the pure defensive type). Players can thus experiment and find which Mecha type suits their skills and Stage plan, for the 1-CC.
This latter Facet becomes evident once players mix component types to balance out their weaknesses and strengths. For instance, secondary attack weapons include the offensive grenade type and the defensive electricity type. The first type can land devastating damage to all enemies on screen already at level one, but the second type can cancel bullets when used, even if it delivers less damage. The mixed close-range weapon/arm type “beam sword” can cancel bullets and deliver good damage when hitting enemies; the secondary weapon-oriented blade arm increases in damage if used during a secondary attack. Players can then choose either legs (offensive, mixed types) or wheels (defensive, secondary types), and respectively carry two or four “foot soldiers” attached to the Mechas, who shoot aimed bullets. Mechas have five H(it)P(oint)s: they explode after the last hit and the pilot proceeds on jetpack. Players can rebuild Mechas (with 2 HPs) by collecting three power-ups.
The game thus introduces players two a rich system of customised Mechas that elegantly interacts with the Stage designs and layout. First, however, we discuss the game’s aesthetic presentation. By 1990/1991, Data East was releasing games on custom board that however all featured vastly improved graphic power and sound quality. Wolf Fang/Rohga does not involve scaling and rotating effects as those found in Edward Randy or Dragon Gun. It however features highly detailed backgrounds, an impressively rich colour palette, and massive, well-animated vehicles and Mechas. Bosses are also immense, with some of the (recurring) Mecha bosses occupying most of the screen and involving fluidly animated parts and attacks. The game can sometimes become overcrowded with enemies, bullets, and other attacks: expect to feel overwhelmed with visual information from all directions, when running the first credits. Stages often involve sections scrolling in reverse or vertically, at frantic speeds, and offer plenty of gorgeous, highly atmospheric backgrounds. Nevertheless, the game often looks stunning, and always runs at full speed, like a Sunrise classic Mecha anime.
The way the game captures the world setting from a visual standpoint is also impressive. Stage one opens with a short attack to the Mechas’ carriers from Ragnarok troops: Mechas must fight while being on the plane’s roof. Stage two involves an improvised landing in Sydney’s Bay and a frantic skirmish across the streets of a ravaged CBD, with Mechas even coasting the remains of the Opera House. From Stage three, players can choose between “easy” and “hard” alternative versions of Stages, and thus decide where to continue their battles. Stage five-B (final) is set against the evocative backdrop of Uluru/Ayers Rock, and features an assault to a Ragnarok’s giant “land battleship”. Stage three-B (easy) is set in the mountains near Dunedin, South New Zealand, during a night sortie. The unique takes to places for Stages vividly create the atmosphere of a fierce Gundam-style battle in perhaps exotic places.
The OST complements this brilliant visual design in an equally impressive manner. Composers Akira Takemoto and Hiroaki Yoshida from Data East’s in-house band Gamadelic provide powerful rock anthems and a few Bond-style songs with gusto. Before we discuss the OST in detail, however, it is worth noting that the game involves a plethora of loud explosions, voice samples for pilots. The designer’s attention to sound effects can indeed capture the attention from the outset, together with the sterling OST. Mid-boss and main boss enemy Mechas shout flippant comments like “You are no match to me!”; planes and bigger mechas explode very loudly, especially when players close-range attacks. Even if the OST is always clearly audible and mesmerizing, the game declares its commitment to “total action” by being as loud and aurally engaging as possible. In a slogan, the game is “loud”, and “proud” to be loud.
The OST is however the main attraction from the aesthetic Facets’ point of view. The statement of intention is clear from In the Garage, and Briefing, the theme for the Mecha selection/customisation and the Stage opening/selection parts. These are two simple rocking themes that quickly establish the epic tone of the game, in clear cinematographic style. Stage one’s Wolf Fang is a rock/fusion fast-tempo that veers into almost cheerful themes. Stage two’s speeds up the rock pace considerably, since the Stage takes place in a ravaged Sydney. Themes then become linked to different Stages: Length finder appears on Stage three-B and Stage four-A, and offers rock anthem with a Jazzy riff. Stormy Blade is a highly dramatic “battle theme”, and so is Midnight Chaser. Far more Midnight Oil, INXS, and even Crowded House and Silverchair than AC/DC, Wolf Fang’s OST is in equal parts immensely energetic and immersive, in tandem with the gorgeous visuals.
Let us now move to the discussion of difficulty, perhaps the game’s most complex Facet to analyse. I propose that the EU and JP versions have three Facets that determine the overall difficulty value: game mechanics, Stage design/layout and rank. I propose to assign a maximum of 20, 20 and 10 points out of a total 50 points, as per standard assumptions. The US version requires a few extra considerations that will become clear once we discuss these three Facets. Our discussion of the game’s mechanics should make it clear that players need some time to master all the subtleties of the game. Weapons and their aiming may not feel intuitive at first, and the use and timing of jumps tends to be tricky. Add a complex close-range weapon system and secondary attacks that can cancel bullets, a design choice predating shmups (e.g. Cave’s DoDonPachi) by a few years.
Game mechanics thus total 10/20 difficulty points: players need considerable practice to control all aspects of the game, and all Mechas’ attacking and defensive skills. The second Facet, Stage design/layout, can be split into two overlapping sub-Facets. First, players must learn how to handle enemies and enemies’ waves: small zako Mechas explode with one hit but can snipe stray hits if players do not destroy them quickly. Big zako Mechas require point-blanking with the primary or close-range attacks, and can also use their own close-range attacks. Other vehicles (e.g. tanks) can even ram the Mechas at full speed. Players must thus learn to destroy enemies quickly, take risks in doing so via close-range attacks, and use secondary attacks wisely, to clear the screen off enemies. Stages impose a fast tempo, and players must adapt it to it already from Stage two.
Each Stage then presents its own set of challenges, irrespective of the branch/path that players take. Nevertheless, the briefing screens before choosing a Stage make it clear that the “hard” path, i.e. the path based on always choosing the hard Stages, involves staggeringly difficult Stages. Stage five-D, the hardest of the final Stages, has an official survival rate of 01%. Stage three-B (hard), however, has an already depressing 50% survival rate, when compared to the loftier 70% of Stage three-A (easy). Stages are all long, but hard Stages invariably involve (more) mid-boss fights, more sections with sniping enemies or the stage suddenly scrolling vertically or even diagonally, and in general traps. Furthermore, all bosses have tons of HPs and attacks that often require difficult dodging manoeuvres, and precise use of bullet-cancelling attacks. Simply put, players need to memorise enemies’ waves and intensely practice even the “Easy” Stages.
An important fact is that the (most) Easy route does not provide considerable challenges until the Stage four boss, but the (most) Hard route is already a nightmare by Stage three-B. Values thus range from 7/20 difficulty points for the easiest route to 15/20 difficulty points for the hardest route. For as an action game, Wolf Fang provides a considerable challenge due to the sheer difficulty of its Stages. Rank adds a further element of difficulty to this challenge. Rank is based on survival time, and maxes out around the end of Stage three; it controls the speed of bullets, the aggressivity of enemies, and should also determine their overall HPs. However, losing a Mecha and rebuilding it with power-ups effectively resets its value. Therefore, players who can manage to keep their Mechas intact for an entire run will then have to face an additional 5/10 points of difficulty.
Wolf Fang is thus a game that minimally reaches 17/50 difficulty points if players choose the (most) Easy route and must rebuild their Mechas at least once. The (most) Hard route stands at 25/50 if reconstruction occurs, and at 30/50 if players can keep their Mechas intact. The US version is brutal in its length (i.e. players must clear all Stages), with length acting as an additional Stage rank factor. For this version I propose a staggering 40/50 difficulty points, with the second and third Facet maxing out at 20/20 and 10/10 points, respectively. Players will require 80 minutes or so to clear the whole game, and hard Stages on this version require split-frame dodging skills, given the big Mecha sprites. Thus, top-tier intermediate players may focus on 1-CC’ing the easier paths and versions, and top-tier master players with droves of patience may challenge the US version.
And now, my experiences with the game (Xenny, drum rolls…no, not berserk attacks, drum rolls!). It is February 1992 and my uncle has bought a few new games for the few of us who do not want to spend our arcade lives throwing shoryukens and spamming phoenix kicks. One of these titles is Wolf Fang, a game that I simply overlook until May or so. The grease brothers (from the Punk Shot squib) have been playing this title for a while and have been complaining that it is though and that the hard Stages are a pain the ass. Frankly, whenever these two guys say that some game is hard, I imagine that some hydraulic hammer comes out of the cab and smashes me to death, the moment I insert a coin. People who can regularly 1-CC Toaplan’s Pipi & Bibis should not be trusted, when they talk about difficulty.
One day on a rather cold early May, however, the unibrow twins approach me and ask me if I would like, just once, to try the game out. The vignette is hilarious, at least in my memory, because the two guys propose this idea as if they were trying to do something highly illegal and even a bit dodgy. Even to today, I can remember that I was expecting them to sell me porn, maybe even drugs, or something abominable as the latest Gundam dubs in Italian. I was not a Mecha fan as a kid: shady semi-legal tv channels and importing companies scared me away from the genre via horrendous adaptations. The unibrow twins also made a personal mission in life to lure me into watching the worst Mecha series on VHS, and by this point I already collected a few traumatic experiences thanks to them.
In a rare moment of silence, though, I hear somebody playing the game and approaching Stage three, and then this hypnotic drum beat starts. Suddenly, I feel this burning need to try the game at least once because its music is just viscerally powerful, dramatic and evocative, for my easily impressionable 1992 self. Thus, the unibrow kids teach me how to play the game for the reminder of May. They can clear the two easier routes in two-player mode and conjecture that the Grease Brothers sooner or later will clear the hardest route, or so they say. Playing arcade games with a “navigator”, someone who guides players through a credit and tells them when to shoot and where, is a new experience for me. The unibrow kids have this very irritating but also highly successful way of alternating their instructions; I finally become acclimatized to them around mid-June.
I clear the easiest route by the time school is over and we can play videogames in the mornings. At some point the grease brothers do clear the hardest route with great fanfare: the day after their result, we find some leaflets attached to the arcade’s windows chronicling this result. My uncle thinks that they need to get laid more often. I feel embarrassed about my uncle’s comment, since it honestly feels true (hey, my 1992 self is already a naughty perv). In summer we start rotating turns, so to speak: I play with either unibrow kid and by myself, and I also clear the game by myself. I only attempt the two easier routes, though: any time I see the Grease Brothers playing this game, I feel that the programmers probably were some demons from the Warhammer 40k hell. The two guys cackle and hiss, when clearing the game.
It is the first of March of 2007 and I have landed in Sydney. I am jet-lagged to no end, and I have changed hemispheres and seasons, alone and not really ready to start a Ph.D. I have made a point that, when travelling over the Sydney bridge to go to my new institution, Macquarie University, I must play the OST of this game in my mp3 player. The Wolf Fang theme from Stage one plays while I am looking at the Opera House and I feel that I have landed on a different planet, and I am here because this game made me want to visit this planet. It is early September 2011 and I am riding this bridge in the opposite direction, fly back to Europe and leave this nightmarish place behind me. When on the plane, I wish that Operation British from the first Gundam series becomes reality.
It is however 1992, and my September 1992 self has developed a deep fascination about how Australia and New Zealand appear in this game. At some point I decide that one day I will live in these countries, even if I do not know how and why. The Grease Brothers tell me that the places are nothing special, as they visited both with the excuse of attending the inaugural Men’s Rugby World Cup. I do not want to believe them, in 1992, and the dream remains intact, when the 2003 self buys the Saturn port in 2003. From 2011 onwards, Australia and New Zealand become fainter and fainter memories of my past lives and selves, of which I only have a testamur as a proof of this choice being adequate for my future. When I travel, however, I always have the OST ready, as a viscerally melancholic leitmotif of my walkabouts.
Let us summarise, as Xenny has corroded the drums with his drool. Wolf Fang/Rohga is an action/R2RKMF game with automatic scrolling that pits the Wolf Fang forces against the world-conquering “Ragnarok” conglomerate. Players control highly customisable Mechas against the Ragnarok forces, to free Australia and New Zealand from their tyranny. The game is notable for the brutal difficulty, fast-paced action, big and colourful sprites and settings, and gloriously rock OST. Players who want to test their action skills and have plenty of endurance can challenge the US version, which goes through each Stage in the game’s selection. Less fanatical players can challenge themselves with the 1-CC’ing of the JP and EU versions, which involve branching Stage paths for Stages three to five. Anyone who is a fan of the genre should try out the game and enjoy one of the many fine 1990s’ Data East gems.
(3410 words, or 8.5 pages, times new roman size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; I believe that the Data East guys were trying to capture a feeling found in some of the later Gundam OVAs, like Operation Stardust. There is also a consistent Macross and Mospeada undertone, I daresay. There are quite a few other references to various Mecha series, but the game’s connections to the Real Robot seem surprisingly faint. It is just that by the 1990s, Data East programmers would cram so many homages in their games that the resulting pastiche-style designs were often unique creations on their own. There will be time to discuss all these chimeric creations; just be sure to keep reading these squibs).
Wolf Fang/Rohga Armor Force (Data East, 1991) is an action/R2RKMF game involving huge customisable mechas, a not-so-well-trodden setting (Australia, with some stages in New Zealand), and a glorious OST. Players control mechas from the Wolf Fang organisation and must fight “Ragnarok”, a threat to global peace and the antagonist of Vapor Trail, the shmup and first chapter of the series. The game is notable for featuring huge sprites, very frantic and sometimes quirky action, and a customisable choice for mechas and Stage paths reminiscent of Taito’s Darius. The game is also notable for its difficulty: the US version is a veritable action marathon, and only the most fanatical players may be able to 1-CC it. Nevertheless, this is one of Data East’s outstanding titles from the early 1990s that all arcade fans should try and possibly appreciate. The goal of this squib is to explain why this is the case.
For this game, I would like to focus on a narrow context in which I outline Data East’s technical progress within the landscape of 1991’s arcade gaming. As we all know, Capcom’s Street Fighter II changed this landscape forever, the moment it appeared on the horizon. Other companies were however also pushing intensely to release games that would not fade away quickly, due to this game’s immense emotive pull. Data East moved to more powerful custom boards by 1990, and was releasing games that presented noticeable design improvements over their 1980s “jankfests”. Whether they were successful, however, was another matter entirely. Edward Randy was a brilliantly designed but ultra-quirky action platformer; Joe & Mac had more solid gameplay but was perhaps too easy. Mutant Fighter/Death Brade was in equal parts brilliant and irritating; 1992’s releases Dragon Gun and Boogie Wings were aesthetic masterpieces, but absurdly difficult.
We leave aside many other titles (e.g. Tumble Pop, Diet Go-Go, Dark Seal, Nitro Ball) to avoid going too far away from designated title; let us thus concentrate and the plot and setting. Wolf Fang is set in an alternate 2001, two years after the events of Vapor Trail. Ragnarok, a mysterious group of extremely wealthy world conquerors, has lost the main battle and has retired to Australia and New Zealand. The U.N.-based Skull Fang battalion and Ragnarok have however considerably progressed in the arms race, to the point that they now have powerful Mechas at their disposal. The Wolf Fang’s mission is to defeat the Ragnarok forces for the last time, thus freeing the survivors of these countries from Ragnarok’s oppression. The mission is not completely successful: shmup sequel Skull Fang is the third and final chapter of this extremely 1990s-style but rather enjoyable S(cience)F(iction)/Mecha saga.
Even if the plot and world setting may appear trite to our modern eyes, they set up the action for the game and its mechanics in an elegant if perhaps slightly complex manner. Players control the mechas with the joystick in eight directions, with the B button controlling jumps. Press either down, down-right, or down-left plus B to let mechas slide or dash in one direction, or up, up-left, up-right to perform high jumps. The A button control the main attack, which can be powered twice via the orange “power up” capsule. Players can choose among the “V” (wide shot), C (charge shot), “L” (laser shot) and “G” (grenade shot) when the weapon capsules appear. Players can keep their weapon of choice or change it by selecting a different weapon, or can alternatively destroy the weapon pod to release a mini-bomb.
The Mechas can shoot in any direction except for the down direction by using the joystick to point the rifle’s shooting direction: jump and aim down, down-right, or down-left. The mechas can also use a close-range attack when enemies are at punching/slashing range, and deliver massive damage. Ramming or jumping on enemies also deliver some damage, ironically enough (the mechas are heavy, I guess). The C button controls secondary attacks, which players choose once they build their mechas. Before we discuss this splendid, game-specific Facet, it is worth noting that the C button has three recharge levels that players can activate by waiting approximately three seconds per level, plus one transitional second. Level one secondary attacks have good destructive power; level two attacks have lasting power; level three attacks act as screen-clearing mini-bombs.
The game’s mechanics thus seem relatively complex but all have their function and purpose, in-game. The way these mechanics works heavily depends on how players act during the preliminary phase of the game, when they choose or customise their Mecha. Before starting Stage one, players choose between a “standard model” or “customised model” of Mecha. In the first case, they choose one of four Mecha types: offensive, defensive, mixed model, secondary weapon-oriented. If players customise the Mechas, they can choose among four types of secondary weapons (homing missile, flamethrower, grenade launcher, “electrigger”), Mechas’ propulsive system (two-legged walker, two-legged hover, four-legged crawler, six-wheeler), and close-range weapon/arms (knuckle shot, beam sword, iron claw, pile bunker). Players can thus choose one of 4*4*4=64 possible Mecha types, each with its own highly evocative name in the JP version (e.g. “TYPE02-Soryu” for the pure defensive type). Players can thus experiment and find which Mecha type suits their skills and Stage plan, for the 1-CC.
This latter Facet becomes evident once players mix component types to balance out their weaknesses and strengths. For instance, secondary attack weapons include the offensive grenade type and the defensive electricity type. The first type can land devastating damage to all enemies on screen already at level one, but the second type can cancel bullets when used, even if it delivers less damage. The mixed close-range weapon/arm type “beam sword” can cancel bullets and deliver good damage when hitting enemies; the secondary weapon-oriented blade arm increases in damage if used during a secondary attack. Players can then choose either legs (offensive, mixed types) or wheels (defensive, secondary types), and respectively carry two or four “foot soldiers” attached to the Mechas, who shoot aimed bullets. Mechas have five H(it)P(oint)s: they explode after the last hit and the pilot proceeds on jetpack. Players can rebuild Mechas (with 2 HPs) by collecting three power-ups.
The game thus introduces players two a rich system of customised Mechas that elegantly interacts with the Stage designs and layout. First, however, we discuss the game’s aesthetic presentation. By 1990/1991, Data East was releasing games on custom board that however all featured vastly improved graphic power and sound quality. Wolf Fang/Rohga does not involve scaling and rotating effects as those found in Edward Randy or Dragon Gun. It however features highly detailed backgrounds, an impressively rich colour palette, and massive, well-animated vehicles and Mechas. Bosses are also immense, with some of the (recurring) Mecha bosses occupying most of the screen and involving fluidly animated parts and attacks. The game can sometimes become overcrowded with enemies, bullets, and other attacks: expect to feel overwhelmed with visual information from all directions, when running the first credits. Stages often involve sections scrolling in reverse or vertically, at frantic speeds, and offer plenty of gorgeous, highly atmospheric backgrounds. Nevertheless, the game often looks stunning, and always runs at full speed, like a Sunrise classic Mecha anime.
The way the game captures the world setting from a visual standpoint is also impressive. Stage one opens with a short attack to the Mechas’ carriers from Ragnarok troops: Mechas must fight while being on the plane’s roof. Stage two involves an improvised landing in Sydney’s Bay and a frantic skirmish across the streets of a ravaged CBD, with Mechas even coasting the remains of the Opera House. From Stage three, players can choose between “easy” and “hard” alternative versions of Stages, and thus decide where to continue their battles. Stage five-B (final) is set against the evocative backdrop of Uluru/Ayers Rock, and features an assault to a Ragnarok’s giant “land battleship”. Stage three-B (easy) is set in the mountains near Dunedin, South New Zealand, during a night sortie. The unique takes to places for Stages vividly create the atmosphere of a fierce Gundam-style battle in perhaps exotic places.
The OST complements this brilliant visual design in an equally impressive manner. Composers Akira Takemoto and Hiroaki Yoshida from Data East’s in-house band Gamadelic provide powerful rock anthems and a few Bond-style songs with gusto. Before we discuss the OST in detail, however, it is worth noting that the game involves a plethora of loud explosions, voice samples for pilots. The designer’s attention to sound effects can indeed capture the attention from the outset, together with the sterling OST. Mid-boss and main boss enemy Mechas shout flippant comments like “You are no match to me!”; planes and bigger mechas explode very loudly, especially when players close-range attacks. Even if the OST is always clearly audible and mesmerizing, the game declares its commitment to “total action” by being as loud and aurally engaging as possible. In a slogan, the game is “loud”, and “proud” to be loud.
The OST is however the main attraction from the aesthetic Facets’ point of view. The statement of intention is clear from In the Garage, and Briefing, the theme for the Mecha selection/customisation and the Stage opening/selection parts. These are two simple rocking themes that quickly establish the epic tone of the game, in clear cinematographic style. Stage one’s Wolf Fang is a rock/fusion fast-tempo that veers into almost cheerful themes. Stage two’s speeds up the rock pace considerably, since the Stage takes place in a ravaged Sydney. Themes then become linked to different Stages: Length finder appears on Stage three-B and Stage four-A, and offers rock anthem with a Jazzy riff. Stormy Blade is a highly dramatic “battle theme”, and so is Midnight Chaser. Far more Midnight Oil, INXS, and even Crowded House and Silverchair than AC/DC, Wolf Fang’s OST is in equal parts immensely energetic and immersive, in tandem with the gorgeous visuals.
Let us now move to the discussion of difficulty, perhaps the game’s most complex Facet to analyse. I propose that the EU and JP versions have three Facets that determine the overall difficulty value: game mechanics, Stage design/layout and rank. I propose to assign a maximum of 20, 20 and 10 points out of a total 50 points, as per standard assumptions. The US version requires a few extra considerations that will become clear once we discuss these three Facets. Our discussion of the game’s mechanics should make it clear that players need some time to master all the subtleties of the game. Weapons and their aiming may not feel intuitive at first, and the use and timing of jumps tends to be tricky. Add a complex close-range weapon system and secondary attacks that can cancel bullets, a design choice predating shmups (e.g. Cave’s DoDonPachi) by a few years.
Game mechanics thus total 10/20 difficulty points: players need considerable practice to control all aspects of the game, and all Mechas’ attacking and defensive skills. The second Facet, Stage design/layout, can be split into two overlapping sub-Facets. First, players must learn how to handle enemies and enemies’ waves: small zako Mechas explode with one hit but can snipe stray hits if players do not destroy them quickly. Big zako Mechas require point-blanking with the primary or close-range attacks, and can also use their own close-range attacks. Other vehicles (e.g. tanks) can even ram the Mechas at full speed. Players must thus learn to destroy enemies quickly, take risks in doing so via close-range attacks, and use secondary attacks wisely, to clear the screen off enemies. Stages impose a fast tempo, and players must adapt it to it already from Stage two.
Each Stage then presents its own set of challenges, irrespective of the branch/path that players take. Nevertheless, the briefing screens before choosing a Stage make it clear that the “hard” path, i.e. the path based on always choosing the hard Stages, involves staggeringly difficult Stages. Stage five-D, the hardest of the final Stages, has an official survival rate of 01%. Stage three-B (hard), however, has an already depressing 50% survival rate, when compared to the loftier 70% of Stage three-A (easy). Stages are all long, but hard Stages invariably involve (more) mid-boss fights, more sections with sniping enemies or the stage suddenly scrolling vertically or even diagonally, and in general traps. Furthermore, all bosses have tons of HPs and attacks that often require difficult dodging manoeuvres, and precise use of bullet-cancelling attacks. Simply put, players need to memorise enemies’ waves and intensely practice even the “Easy” Stages.
An important fact is that the (most) Easy route does not provide considerable challenges until the Stage four boss, but the (most) Hard route is already a nightmare by Stage three-B. Values thus range from 7/20 difficulty points for the easiest route to 15/20 difficulty points for the hardest route. For as an action game, Wolf Fang provides a considerable challenge due to the sheer difficulty of its Stages. Rank adds a further element of difficulty to this challenge. Rank is based on survival time, and maxes out around the end of Stage three; it controls the speed of bullets, the aggressivity of enemies, and should also determine their overall HPs. However, losing a Mecha and rebuilding it with power-ups effectively resets its value. Therefore, players who can manage to keep their Mechas intact for an entire run will then have to face an additional 5/10 points of difficulty.
Wolf Fang is thus a game that minimally reaches 17/50 difficulty points if players choose the (most) Easy route and must rebuild their Mechas at least once. The (most) Hard route stands at 25/50 if reconstruction occurs, and at 30/50 if players can keep their Mechas intact. The US version is brutal in its length (i.e. players must clear all Stages), with length acting as an additional Stage rank factor. For this version I propose a staggering 40/50 difficulty points, with the second and third Facet maxing out at 20/20 and 10/10 points, respectively. Players will require 80 minutes or so to clear the whole game, and hard Stages on this version require split-frame dodging skills, given the big Mecha sprites. Thus, top-tier intermediate players may focus on 1-CC’ing the easier paths and versions, and top-tier master players with droves of patience may challenge the US version.
And now, my experiences with the game (Xenny, drum rolls…no, not berserk attacks, drum rolls!). It is February 1992 and my uncle has bought a few new games for the few of us who do not want to spend our arcade lives throwing shoryukens and spamming phoenix kicks. One of these titles is Wolf Fang, a game that I simply overlook until May or so. The grease brothers (from the Punk Shot squib) have been playing this title for a while and have been complaining that it is though and that the hard Stages are a pain the ass. Frankly, whenever these two guys say that some game is hard, I imagine that some hydraulic hammer comes out of the cab and smashes me to death, the moment I insert a coin. People who can regularly 1-CC Toaplan’s Pipi & Bibis should not be trusted, when they talk about difficulty.
One day on a rather cold early May, however, the unibrow twins approach me and ask me if I would like, just once, to try the game out. The vignette is hilarious, at least in my memory, because the two guys propose this idea as if they were trying to do something highly illegal and even a bit dodgy. Even to today, I can remember that I was expecting them to sell me porn, maybe even drugs, or something abominable as the latest Gundam dubs in Italian. I was not a Mecha fan as a kid: shady semi-legal tv channels and importing companies scared me away from the genre via horrendous adaptations. The unibrow twins also made a personal mission in life to lure me into watching the worst Mecha series on VHS, and by this point I already collected a few traumatic experiences thanks to them.
In a rare moment of silence, though, I hear somebody playing the game and approaching Stage three, and then this hypnotic drum beat starts. Suddenly, I feel this burning need to try the game at least once because its music is just viscerally powerful, dramatic and evocative, for my easily impressionable 1992 self. Thus, the unibrow kids teach me how to play the game for the reminder of May. They can clear the two easier routes in two-player mode and conjecture that the Grease Brothers sooner or later will clear the hardest route, or so they say. Playing arcade games with a “navigator”, someone who guides players through a credit and tells them when to shoot and where, is a new experience for me. The unibrow kids have this very irritating but also highly successful way of alternating their instructions; I finally become acclimatized to them around mid-June.
I clear the easiest route by the time school is over and we can play videogames in the mornings. At some point the grease brothers do clear the hardest route with great fanfare: the day after their result, we find some leaflets attached to the arcade’s windows chronicling this result. My uncle thinks that they need to get laid more often. I feel embarrassed about my uncle’s comment, since it honestly feels true (hey, my 1992 self is already a naughty perv). In summer we start rotating turns, so to speak: I play with either unibrow kid and by myself, and I also clear the game by myself. I only attempt the two easier routes, though: any time I see the Grease Brothers playing this game, I feel that the programmers probably were some demons from the Warhammer 40k hell. The two guys cackle and hiss, when clearing the game.
It is the first of March of 2007 and I have landed in Sydney. I am jet-lagged to no end, and I have changed hemispheres and seasons, alone and not really ready to start a Ph.D. I have made a point that, when travelling over the Sydney bridge to go to my new institution, Macquarie University, I must play the OST of this game in my mp3 player. The Wolf Fang theme from Stage one plays while I am looking at the Opera House and I feel that I have landed on a different planet, and I am here because this game made me want to visit this planet. It is early September 2011 and I am riding this bridge in the opposite direction, fly back to Europe and leave this nightmarish place behind me. When on the plane, I wish that Operation British from the first Gundam series becomes reality.
It is however 1992, and my September 1992 self has developed a deep fascination about how Australia and New Zealand appear in this game. At some point I decide that one day I will live in these countries, even if I do not know how and why. The Grease Brothers tell me that the places are nothing special, as they visited both with the excuse of attending the inaugural Men’s Rugby World Cup. I do not want to believe them, in 1992, and the dream remains intact, when the 2003 self buys the Saturn port in 2003. From 2011 onwards, Australia and New Zealand become fainter and fainter memories of my past lives and selves, of which I only have a testamur as a proof of this choice being adequate for my future. When I travel, however, I always have the OST ready, as a viscerally melancholic leitmotif of my walkabouts.
Let us summarise, as Xenny has corroded the drums with his drool. Wolf Fang/Rohga is an action/R2RKMF game with automatic scrolling that pits the Wolf Fang forces against the world-conquering “Ragnarok” conglomerate. Players control highly customisable Mechas against the Ragnarok forces, to free Australia and New Zealand from their tyranny. The game is notable for the brutal difficulty, fast-paced action, big and colourful sprites and settings, and gloriously rock OST. Players who want to test their action skills and have plenty of endurance can challenge the US version, which goes through each Stage in the game’s selection. Less fanatical players can challenge themselves with the 1-CC’ing of the JP and EU versions, which involve branching Stage paths for Stages three to five. Anyone who is a fan of the genre should try out the game and enjoy one of the many fine 1990s’ Data East gems.
(3410 words, or 8.5 pages, times new roman size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; I believe that the Data East guys were trying to capture a feeling found in some of the later Gundam OVAs, like Operation Stardust. There is also a consistent Macross and Mospeada undertone, I daresay. There are quite a few other references to various Mecha series, but the game’s connections to the Real Robot seem surprisingly faint. It is just that by the 1990s, Data East programmers would cram so many homages in their games that the resulting pastiche-style designs were often unique creations on their own. There will be time to discuss all these chimeric creations; just be sure to keep reading these squibs).
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
Diet Go Go (Data East, 1991)
In this squib we dive deeper in the Data East rabbit hole, as we discuss Diet Go Go, one of the two DECO games that combine aspects of pinball with video arcade gaming. The other game is the magnificent Nitro Ball, which I will squib about within the year. Diet Go Go forms an ideal trilogy with Tumble Pop and Joe and Mac Returns. These are games that take the Toaplan’s Snow Bros. basic concept, which I would describe as the “Gordian Knot view of puzzle/platform games”. Though certainly brilliant in design, this game is quite obscure in fame: there are no ports of the game, as of my writing this squib. We thus swiftly move to the main theme:
Diet Go Go (Data East, 1992) is a single-screen puzzle game that includes pinball and slot machine mechanics. A young man and woman in 1980s leotards must fight Dr. Dogedo’s second attempt at conquering Earth by making everyone fat: time to diet, indeed. The young and fit couple thus embarks on a journey to save the world (and the moon) by…fattening Dr. Dogedo’s minions and punching their inflated bodies to bounce around the screen. The game is notable for its frantic pace, highly peculiar but nevertheless well-balanced mechanics, and its incredibly zany and mildly flippant sense of humour. The game is also notable for having dozens of stages but also being 1-CC’able in a short amount of time, as in the case of other similar single-screeners (e.g. TumblePop, Mitchell/Data East’s Funky Jet). The goal of this squib is to convince my readers to 1-CC this equally obscure and brilliant game, indeed.
Let us provide a bit of context by introducing two key Facets framing the release of this game: Data East’s period of grace and the evolution of single-screen platform games. As we discussed in the Wolf Fang/Rohga squib, Data East was finally releasing great if still quirky games in the period 1991–1993. In 1992, they released this obscure little gem, the brilliant HORI(zontal) shmup Boogie Wings, and Nitro Ball, a hybrid (ro)TATE free scrolling shmup/pinball game. Their Pinball section took over from the glorious Stern Electronics company and was also releasing great tie-in pinballs (e.g. Robocop, Star Trek). Single screen platformers were however undergoing a transformation, and slowly fading into arcade background. NMK released the great Saboten Bombers and Irem the two Bomberman arcade games). The genre was however becoming irrelevant, due to several factors (e.g. the advent of 3D, this genre’s difficulty and length, and so on).
In this context, Data East made a bold move and created a conceptual sequel to TumblePop and designed a brilliantly weird plot and world setting. Dr. Dogedo, TumblePop bad guy, pursues again on world domination. This time he seems to threaten a variant of Earth with mysterious continents (e.g. a version of Atlantis full of mutated creatures). His attempt revolves around giving free, ultra-caloric food to everyone and thus lure the global population into becoming disgustingly fat people. It is up two unnamed kids dressed like Aerobics cretins from the 1980s to save the world. Their method is simple: they travel around several places around the world where Dr. Dogedo’s minions have taken over (e.g. Paris, New York, India, Atlantis) and shoot food at the minions and their bosses. Dr. Dogedo’s armies thus stand no chance, even when they retreat on the Moon trying to stay slim and trim.
The wildly non-sensical plot and world setting create a perfect environment for the quirky type of game mechanics that the game introduces. Players control the fitness duo via the joystick, with movement being in eight directions. The B button control jumps: press up, up-right or up-left for high jumps moving the characters to upper platforms. Press instead B and down, down-right, or down-left to descend to a lower platform. The A button controls shooting/food-throwing. Characters shoot some small ball of undefined (and probably very fat) food at a short distance, but can shoot a bigger, more colourful ball at a longer distance after taking an attack power-up. Enemies will become fatter and start floating, defenceless, when hit a few times. If players do not hit them and send them bouncing around the screen, they revert to their normal shape. Characters can become faster via the S(kate/peed) power-up, too.
This already peculiar set of mechanics combines with other even quirkier mechanics taken from pinballs and slot machines. First, however, notice that enemies can also shoot food. The first “food hit” makes characters chubbier and slower but not more powerful, as in the Metal Slug series. Collecting a D(iet) power-up will slim them down to normal: a second food hit will kill them due to sudden, terminal obesity. Players can fatten enemies and make them float, then push them to bounce around the screen and kill other enemies: just let the characters touch the floating enemies. When two or more enemies are floating and bounce one against the other, their kinetic energy combines and bouncing paths become longer. For each enemy killed via a bouncing hit, players trigger a multiplier on the enemy’s score (e.g. x2, x3…xN) and increase the value of the item they drop after death.
Players can also exploit/extend bouncing chains by shooting enemies against pinball-style bumpers, when present in a Stage layout. When players kill enemies via bouncing chains, they can eventually obtain big coins worth 1K points as a bonus, and providing a “slot machine roll”. The slot machine is a three-digit, classic-style machine sitting at the centre top side of the screen. Once players clear a Stage, they have several rolls equivalent to the big coins they have collected during the Stage. Combinations can give various types of bonus point items (e.g. gems, diamonds) and power ups. If players “hit the jackpot” (i.e. they score a “7-7-7”), they move to a special Stage in which they can collect more bonuses, items, and even extra lives. Boss Stages lack the slot machine mini-game, as players must shoot fattened enemies against huge, smoothly animated, and colourful end-of-stage/place enemies.
Though complex in their interaction, the game mechanics become quite intuitive after a few runs, and make the game’s difficulty rather manageable. Before we discuss this topic, however, we concentrate our attention on the game’s aesthetics. As we have just mentioned, bosses feature screen-wide sprites that have remarkably good animations and colourful, endearing if absurdist designs. For instance, the boss for the India Stage/place is a giant wooden robot/curry pot. The boss for the France Stage/place is an evil queen, as the Stage seems set in Euro Dysney. Enemies follow a similar incredibly quirky and endearing design; furthermore, even the simplest goons have smooth animations and highly detailed sprites. World settings feature gorgeously detailed illustrations, summoning the mildly fantasy tone of the game brilliantly. Aside the Atlantis stage, there is also a “Sea kingdom” underwater stage with brilliant wavering effects and two hilariously designed Moon Stages.
The OST is probably weaker in style and quality, but it is certainly functional to the action. Tomoyoshi Sato, Mihoko Andō and Tatsuya Kyuchi from Data East’s band Gamadelic created an OST like the one from TumblePop, with short and cute themes accompanying the game’s frantic action. Sound effects are indeed mostly the same from TP, and generally give the impression that players are immersed in a zany Shōwa-era anime. Perhaps the only themes really worthy of note are the two Boss themes; other themes are certainly well-designed, but gracefully fade into the background after a few runs. Overall, though, Diet Go Go has a bright, cheerful design that befits single-screen platforms, and particularly those titles from the late 1980s to early 1990s (e.g. Pang, Super Pang!). It is certainly a visual feast, and aurally it is a competent title.
Let us move to the topic of difficulty, for which I propose four Facets: game mechanics, Stage layout/design, the interaction of these two facets and rank as a minor facet. I propose that their weight over the total of 50 points is respectively 10, 10, 25 and 5 points, for reasons that we can elucidate in the following order. The game mechanics seem complex but should be easy to master, with practice. Learn how to hit enemies due to the reduced range of the food weapon, control jumps, and learn how to trigger massive stage-clearing chains. Be sure to stay below the slot machine, when it releases items. Bosses require big chaining combos but they are generally big. Three-four enemies bouncing around the screen will usually hit the bosses for a 2 H(it)P(point)s damage, and usually find their target easily. Game mechanics thus motivate a score of 5/10 difficulty points.
Stage design/layout as a distinct Facet seems also complex, but its mastering may not require too much practice. The game has 12 Stages, or places in which the diet couple must fight against Dogedo’s minions. Players can choose any of eight starting places five: based on real places (e.g. Japan), three on fictional and “toxic” places (e.g. Atlantis). The other four places come in fixed order and involve two other toxic places and two Moon places. The first place includes three (one-screen) Stage; the second, four Stages; the third, five Stages, and the fourth, six Stages. The fifth to the eighth place include six Stages; the four final places, seven Stages. Players must thus choose which place they prefer as the starting point in the game by evaluating which Stages they can handle better, as in Tumble Pop and Funky Jet.
Once players have mastered this “static” Facet involving Stage/place design, the true challenge lies in learning, for each Stage, how to trigger the “winning” bouncing chain. If players fatten up the right enemies and send them bouncing, they can easily clear each Stage with a single chain. If players are successful, they can also pursue high scores and rewards. The higher the multiplier on the chain, the more massive coins appear and the higher the chances of a 7-7-7 slot machine score become. Players can collect up to nine extra lives, if they properly push this mechanic to its limits. For these and the reasons mentioned in the previous paragraph, I propose a 5/10 difficulty score for the second Facet (Stage design/layout) and 12/25 points for the third, interactional Facet. Once players know the right “trigger(s)”, all Stages become tricky but certainly doable to clear and to squeeze for points.
The fourth Facet, rank, plays a minor but interesting role. Survival rank seems to max out rather quickly: by the fourth place or so, enemies will move at their maximum speed and possibly shoot food attacks very aggressively. Players should easily manage these patterns, as these increases do not really appear challenging. Nevertheless, if players extend regularly and die periodically, the game’s rank resets on a regular basis. Thus, 1-LC’s are more challenging than “mere” 1-CC’s, but they do not require substantially higher amounts of practice and skills. I propose a 3/5 difficulty points for this Facet, or 2/5 points if players eventually lose lives. The grand total is thus 26/50 difficulty points for a 1-CC, 27/50 points for a 1-LC. Mid- to top-tier expert players should find this game a robust challenge, but also enjoy the chance to play for score and for the clear simultaneously.
We move to the concluding part of the squib and, for this type of squibs, also the shortest part (Xenny is uncorking the champagne or perhaps a human to…OK, you get it). My experiences with this game are rather modest in length and vividness for a simple reason. I only played this game a few times in the arcades, and then I decided to 1-CC it in 2023, after decades of letting the goal aside for various reasons. Let us proceed in order, anyway. It is late 1993 and I see Diet Go Go at the fine gentleman’s bar, while visiting the place with my father. Some of the usual customers are playing the game and seemingly enjoying a lot, but the game leaves me cold. There is also a cab with Night Slashers and the sheer campiness of this other Data East title quickly commands all my attention.
In this period, I am already not frequenting this bar and my uncle’s arcade too often, as I am busy with sports and other hobbies. I do not get that much far inNight Slashers and I only try a few credits of this game. I find the whole concept nice, but the slot machine mini-game irks me a bit. I feel that the game tries to be too “busy” for its own good. After a while, I simply forget about this game for a decade or so, until it gets emulated in MAME in 2002 or 2003. By this period, I am knee-deep in playing ports of more modern arcade games on consoles, and I tend to focus mostly on shmups. For some mysterious reason, I pursue 1-CC’s and score-driven runs in this genre with fervour, even if my results are boring at most.
Over the two decades from 2003 to 2023, I often mull the idea of 1-CC’ing this game and then quickly renounce pursuing it, thinking that the slot machine game is too silly. In 2023, somehow, the mini-game clicks with me and on, it was not because I suddenly started appreciating Data East’s Trio the Punch. Simply put, I try a few runs and quickly figure out, finally, how to play the game. After a moderate amount of time and practice, also via save stages, I can first 1-CC the game and then even 1-L(ife)C it. The ”what are you playing?” thread even contains some comments on the feat. What I can say, in hindsight, is that my 1992, 2002 and 2012, 2017…other gaming selves should have tried harder to appreciate this game. My 2020s self, however, has rectified this mistake and immensely enjoyed the 1-CC/1-LC journey as it unfolded, indeed.
Let us conclude, then. Diet Go Go is a single screen platform game with mechanics borrowed from pinballs and slot machine games. Players must save a fantasy variant of the world from an evil scientist who wants to rule the blue Earth by making everyone fat. It is up to two valiant diet-obsessed teens to save the day by fattening Dr. Dogedo’s minions and then the Doctor to death, instead. Players must clear a considerable number of stages that however take a few seconds and well-placed chains to overcome and therefore beat Dr. Dogedo’s into fatness. Players who like single screeners emphasising speed and “simpler” design approaches should find this title quite engaging. Fans of the genre and anyone who appreciates Data East’s style at its zaniest should certainly find many elements to enjoy, as well. Do not forget to diet, too: victory goes to the slimmest (eh!).
(2469 words, or 6.2 pages in times new roman size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; I think that the aerobics fad was bad but the whole “diet food” trend was worse, and it seems to have remained to this day. I had female relatives thinking that, if they would do aerobics exercises 20 minutes a day, after decades of sedentary life, they would have solved all their health problems at once. I also know dozens of individuals who somehow still buy the hype of diet food, energy drinks, and all such chemical nonsense. I find it depressing that many could simply exploit their formal education and study a bit of nutrition, instead of buying into “food propaganda”. I find it adorable that Data East managed to create a whole brilliantly designed game out of such a silly fad. These guys were geniuses and pilferers in equal measure, indeed).
Diet Go Go (Data East, 1992) is a single-screen puzzle game that includes pinball and slot machine mechanics. A young man and woman in 1980s leotards must fight Dr. Dogedo’s second attempt at conquering Earth by making everyone fat: time to diet, indeed. The young and fit couple thus embarks on a journey to save the world (and the moon) by…fattening Dr. Dogedo’s minions and punching their inflated bodies to bounce around the screen. The game is notable for its frantic pace, highly peculiar but nevertheless well-balanced mechanics, and its incredibly zany and mildly flippant sense of humour. The game is also notable for having dozens of stages but also being 1-CC’able in a short amount of time, as in the case of other similar single-screeners (e.g. TumblePop, Mitchell/Data East’s Funky Jet). The goal of this squib is to convince my readers to 1-CC this equally obscure and brilliant game, indeed.
Let us provide a bit of context by introducing two key Facets framing the release of this game: Data East’s period of grace and the evolution of single-screen platform games. As we discussed in the Wolf Fang/Rohga squib, Data East was finally releasing great if still quirky games in the period 1991–1993. In 1992, they released this obscure little gem, the brilliant HORI(zontal) shmup Boogie Wings, and Nitro Ball, a hybrid (ro)TATE free scrolling shmup/pinball game. Their Pinball section took over from the glorious Stern Electronics company and was also releasing great tie-in pinballs (e.g. Robocop, Star Trek). Single screen platformers were however undergoing a transformation, and slowly fading into arcade background. NMK released the great Saboten Bombers and Irem the two Bomberman arcade games). The genre was however becoming irrelevant, due to several factors (e.g. the advent of 3D, this genre’s difficulty and length, and so on).
In this context, Data East made a bold move and created a conceptual sequel to TumblePop and designed a brilliantly weird plot and world setting. Dr. Dogedo, TumblePop bad guy, pursues again on world domination. This time he seems to threaten a variant of Earth with mysterious continents (e.g. a version of Atlantis full of mutated creatures). His attempt revolves around giving free, ultra-caloric food to everyone and thus lure the global population into becoming disgustingly fat people. It is up two unnamed kids dressed like Aerobics cretins from the 1980s to save the world. Their method is simple: they travel around several places around the world where Dr. Dogedo’s minions have taken over (e.g. Paris, New York, India, Atlantis) and shoot food at the minions and their bosses. Dr. Dogedo’s armies thus stand no chance, even when they retreat on the Moon trying to stay slim and trim.
The wildly non-sensical plot and world setting create a perfect environment for the quirky type of game mechanics that the game introduces. Players control the fitness duo via the joystick, with movement being in eight directions. The B button control jumps: press up, up-right or up-left for high jumps moving the characters to upper platforms. Press instead B and down, down-right, or down-left to descend to a lower platform. The A button controls shooting/food-throwing. Characters shoot some small ball of undefined (and probably very fat) food at a short distance, but can shoot a bigger, more colourful ball at a longer distance after taking an attack power-up. Enemies will become fatter and start floating, defenceless, when hit a few times. If players do not hit them and send them bouncing around the screen, they revert to their normal shape. Characters can become faster via the S(kate/peed) power-up, too.
This already peculiar set of mechanics combines with other even quirkier mechanics taken from pinballs and slot machines. First, however, notice that enemies can also shoot food. The first “food hit” makes characters chubbier and slower but not more powerful, as in the Metal Slug series. Collecting a D(iet) power-up will slim them down to normal: a second food hit will kill them due to sudden, terminal obesity. Players can fatten enemies and make them float, then push them to bounce around the screen and kill other enemies: just let the characters touch the floating enemies. When two or more enemies are floating and bounce one against the other, their kinetic energy combines and bouncing paths become longer. For each enemy killed via a bouncing hit, players trigger a multiplier on the enemy’s score (e.g. x2, x3…xN) and increase the value of the item they drop after death.
Players can also exploit/extend bouncing chains by shooting enemies against pinball-style bumpers, when present in a Stage layout. When players kill enemies via bouncing chains, they can eventually obtain big coins worth 1K points as a bonus, and providing a “slot machine roll”. The slot machine is a three-digit, classic-style machine sitting at the centre top side of the screen. Once players clear a Stage, they have several rolls equivalent to the big coins they have collected during the Stage. Combinations can give various types of bonus point items (e.g. gems, diamonds) and power ups. If players “hit the jackpot” (i.e. they score a “7-7-7”), they move to a special Stage in which they can collect more bonuses, items, and even extra lives. Boss Stages lack the slot machine mini-game, as players must shoot fattened enemies against huge, smoothly animated, and colourful end-of-stage/place enemies.
Though complex in their interaction, the game mechanics become quite intuitive after a few runs, and make the game’s difficulty rather manageable. Before we discuss this topic, however, we concentrate our attention on the game’s aesthetics. As we have just mentioned, bosses feature screen-wide sprites that have remarkably good animations and colourful, endearing if absurdist designs. For instance, the boss for the India Stage/place is a giant wooden robot/curry pot. The boss for the France Stage/place is an evil queen, as the Stage seems set in Euro Dysney. Enemies follow a similar incredibly quirky and endearing design; furthermore, even the simplest goons have smooth animations and highly detailed sprites. World settings feature gorgeously detailed illustrations, summoning the mildly fantasy tone of the game brilliantly. Aside the Atlantis stage, there is also a “Sea kingdom” underwater stage with brilliant wavering effects and two hilariously designed Moon Stages.
The OST is probably weaker in style and quality, but it is certainly functional to the action. Tomoyoshi Sato, Mihoko Andō and Tatsuya Kyuchi from Data East’s band Gamadelic created an OST like the one from TumblePop, with short and cute themes accompanying the game’s frantic action. Sound effects are indeed mostly the same from TP, and generally give the impression that players are immersed in a zany Shōwa-era anime. Perhaps the only themes really worthy of note are the two Boss themes; other themes are certainly well-designed, but gracefully fade into the background after a few runs. Overall, though, Diet Go Go has a bright, cheerful design that befits single-screen platforms, and particularly those titles from the late 1980s to early 1990s (e.g. Pang, Super Pang!). It is certainly a visual feast, and aurally it is a competent title.
Let us move to the topic of difficulty, for which I propose four Facets: game mechanics, Stage layout/design, the interaction of these two facets and rank as a minor facet. I propose that their weight over the total of 50 points is respectively 10, 10, 25 and 5 points, for reasons that we can elucidate in the following order. The game mechanics seem complex but should be easy to master, with practice. Learn how to hit enemies due to the reduced range of the food weapon, control jumps, and learn how to trigger massive stage-clearing chains. Be sure to stay below the slot machine, when it releases items. Bosses require big chaining combos but they are generally big. Three-four enemies bouncing around the screen will usually hit the bosses for a 2 H(it)P(point)s damage, and usually find their target easily. Game mechanics thus motivate a score of 5/10 difficulty points.
Stage design/layout as a distinct Facet seems also complex, but its mastering may not require too much practice. The game has 12 Stages, or places in which the diet couple must fight against Dogedo’s minions. Players can choose any of eight starting places five: based on real places (e.g. Japan), three on fictional and “toxic” places (e.g. Atlantis). The other four places come in fixed order and involve two other toxic places and two Moon places. The first place includes three (one-screen) Stage; the second, four Stages; the third, five Stages, and the fourth, six Stages. The fifth to the eighth place include six Stages; the four final places, seven Stages. Players must thus choose which place they prefer as the starting point in the game by evaluating which Stages they can handle better, as in Tumble Pop and Funky Jet.
Once players have mastered this “static” Facet involving Stage/place design, the true challenge lies in learning, for each Stage, how to trigger the “winning” bouncing chain. If players fatten up the right enemies and send them bouncing, they can easily clear each Stage with a single chain. If players are successful, they can also pursue high scores and rewards. The higher the multiplier on the chain, the more massive coins appear and the higher the chances of a 7-7-7 slot machine score become. Players can collect up to nine extra lives, if they properly push this mechanic to its limits. For these and the reasons mentioned in the previous paragraph, I propose a 5/10 difficulty score for the second Facet (Stage design/layout) and 12/25 points for the third, interactional Facet. Once players know the right “trigger(s)”, all Stages become tricky but certainly doable to clear and to squeeze for points.
The fourth Facet, rank, plays a minor but interesting role. Survival rank seems to max out rather quickly: by the fourth place or so, enemies will move at their maximum speed and possibly shoot food attacks very aggressively. Players should easily manage these patterns, as these increases do not really appear challenging. Nevertheless, if players extend regularly and die periodically, the game’s rank resets on a regular basis. Thus, 1-LC’s are more challenging than “mere” 1-CC’s, but they do not require substantially higher amounts of practice and skills. I propose a 3/5 difficulty points for this Facet, or 2/5 points if players eventually lose lives. The grand total is thus 26/50 difficulty points for a 1-CC, 27/50 points for a 1-LC. Mid- to top-tier expert players should find this game a robust challenge, but also enjoy the chance to play for score and for the clear simultaneously.
We move to the concluding part of the squib and, for this type of squibs, also the shortest part (Xenny is uncorking the champagne or perhaps a human to…OK, you get it). My experiences with this game are rather modest in length and vividness for a simple reason. I only played this game a few times in the arcades, and then I decided to 1-CC it in 2023, after decades of letting the goal aside for various reasons. Let us proceed in order, anyway. It is late 1993 and I see Diet Go Go at the fine gentleman’s bar, while visiting the place with my father. Some of the usual customers are playing the game and seemingly enjoying a lot, but the game leaves me cold. There is also a cab with Night Slashers and the sheer campiness of this other Data East title quickly commands all my attention.
In this period, I am already not frequenting this bar and my uncle’s arcade too often, as I am busy with sports and other hobbies. I do not get that much far inNight Slashers and I only try a few credits of this game. I find the whole concept nice, but the slot machine mini-game irks me a bit. I feel that the game tries to be too “busy” for its own good. After a while, I simply forget about this game for a decade or so, until it gets emulated in MAME in 2002 or 2003. By this period, I am knee-deep in playing ports of more modern arcade games on consoles, and I tend to focus mostly on shmups. For some mysterious reason, I pursue 1-CC’s and score-driven runs in this genre with fervour, even if my results are boring at most.
Over the two decades from 2003 to 2023, I often mull the idea of 1-CC’ing this game and then quickly renounce pursuing it, thinking that the slot machine game is too silly. In 2023, somehow, the mini-game clicks with me and on, it was not because I suddenly started appreciating Data East’s Trio the Punch. Simply put, I try a few runs and quickly figure out, finally, how to play the game. After a moderate amount of time and practice, also via save stages, I can first 1-CC the game and then even 1-L(ife)C it. The ”what are you playing?” thread even contains some comments on the feat. What I can say, in hindsight, is that my 1992, 2002 and 2012, 2017…other gaming selves should have tried harder to appreciate this game. My 2020s self, however, has rectified this mistake and immensely enjoyed the 1-CC/1-LC journey as it unfolded, indeed.
Let us conclude, then. Diet Go Go is a single screen platform game with mechanics borrowed from pinballs and slot machine games. Players must save a fantasy variant of the world from an evil scientist who wants to rule the blue Earth by making everyone fat. It is up to two valiant diet-obsessed teens to save the day by fattening Dr. Dogedo’s minions and then the Doctor to death, instead. Players must clear a considerable number of stages that however take a few seconds and well-placed chains to overcome and therefore beat Dr. Dogedo’s into fatness. Players who like single screeners emphasising speed and “simpler” design approaches should find this title quite engaging. Fans of the genre and anyone who appreciates Data East’s style at its zaniest should certainly find many elements to enjoy, as well. Do not forget to diet, too: victory goes to the slimmest (eh!).
(2469 words, or 6.2 pages in times new roman size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; I think that the aerobics fad was bad but the whole “diet food” trend was worse, and it seems to have remained to this day. I had female relatives thinking that, if they would do aerobics exercises 20 minutes a day, after decades of sedentary life, they would have solved all their health problems at once. I also know dozens of individuals who somehow still buy the hype of diet food, energy drinks, and all such chemical nonsense. I find it depressing that many could simply exploit their formal education and study a bit of nutrition, instead of buying into “food propaganda”. I find it adorable that Data East managed to create a whole brilliantly designed game out of such a silly fad. These guys were geniuses and pilferers in equal measure, indeed).
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
Funky Jet (Mitchell/Data East, 1992)
In this squib we discuss again Funky Jet, an interesting hybrid of single screen platforming action and action/brawling madness. The game is notable for not having received ports to any console or format, to the best of my knowledge, and for having a fast pace, for the genre. The game has several revisions (World 1, “World”, and Japan), which differ in their game mechanics: I discuss these Facets in the squib. This revision extends the previous version of the squib by including more detailed information about context, plot, difficulty, and personal experiences. Xenny tried to dissolve the experiences’ part with a vitriolic sneeze (acid, even, ahem), but my monitor is Xenomorph-proof. Absurdly bland jokes aside, the old squib is here. The new squib starts now:
Funky Jet ( Data East, 1992; distributed by Mitchell) is a single-screener platform/beat’em up hybrid. Two kids wearing jetpacks, boxing gloves, leather skullcaps and pilot googles must beat the endless hordes of a shady business magnate who looks like Marvel’s Kingpin. The two kids (1P “Blue Kid” and 2P “Green Kid”) use their jetpacks to float and move in any direction; enemies must however walk on platforms. The kids need three punches, humorously labelled “wap wap bom!” hits in the demo screen, to beat basic enemies. Beaten enemies will fly to the opposite side of the screen (e.g. left if punched from the right) and overwhelm all the other enemies on their path. The goal of this squib is to convince readers that this game is highly entertaining due to its humour and very quirky game mechanics. 1-CC’ing Funky Jet would thus be an interesting experience for any player.
In our previous squibs, we discussed Data East’s releases in the early 1990s at length. Here, we can discuss Mitchell’s works during this period. Mitchell successfully released Pang! and Super Pang! (1989, 1990), but it remained a small studio. In 1992, they released The Karate Tournament as their attempt at chipping in the vs. fighter craze. In 1993, they released Double Wings, a shmup that might qualify as a Raiden clone. In a few years Mitchell would release their greatest achievements: action classic Osman in 1996, single-screen puzzle classic Puzz Loop, entertaining action/platformer Charlie Ninja in 1994, and Pang! 3 in 1995. In 1992, however, they joined forces with Data East to release this single-screen game, Funky Jet. Alas, the genre was ultimately fading away, as discussed in the Diet Go Go squib. Nevertheless, as a publisher and distributor Mitchell had considerable reach outside Japan; Data East capitalised on this reach.
The rather simple plot can be summarised as follows. Blue Kid and Green Kid must clear six stages with multiple sub-stages/screens before they can access stage 7, beat down “Pseudo-Kingpin”, and free their metropolis from his shady business clutches. To do so, they must beat up (pardon, “wap bam boom”) tons of goons sporting impossibly illegal fashion choices (e.g. mullets, tank tops, and so on). Blue kid and Green kid seem to be simple kids who are fighting just to avoid becoming corporate pawns of Pseudo-kingpin; Pseudo-Kingpin seems to want to turn the unnamed metropolis into a giant casino. The narration might be incredibly simple and purely textless, but the general atmosphere should clear. The fact that even Pseudo-Kingpin has a trashy look (i.e. giant earrings and cigar, boxing gloves during the final fight) tells players that the game oozes tons of zany humour.
The game’s peculiar mechanics work as follows. Players can move the characters in eight directions: due to gravity, characters drift downwards if players do no input any direction. Characters can land 3-hit punch combos with the A button and, if players tap fast enough, they can float on the spot. When characters combo an enemy, the enemy flies at high speed against the opposite side of the screen. Enemies acting as “projectiles” will cause automatic “Beat Down Cascaded Combos” (BDCC’s): one enemy can hit multiple enemies, who will hit further enemies (i.e. the “cascade” effect). Characters can also hit enemies via the “spinning attack” activated via the B button (“wam wam wow”, in the demo screen). The characters spin on the spot and flip enemies on the other side when hit: three flipping hits count as a combo and thus beat down basic enemies.
B button punches are thus useful to place enemies on whichever side may offer the best BDCC. Furthermore, BDCC’s release power-ups based on the number of overwhelmed enemies. A one-hit BDCC releases a “jetpack can”; two- to N-hit BDCC’s release other power ups in increasing level of usefulness. For instance, two/three-hit BDCC’s release a “heart” and refill 2 bars of energy (out of 64) for the characters. Four-hit BDCC’s trigger either power gloves or speed boots; seven-hit BDCC’s trigger a time freeze power-up plus other four power-ups. Power gloves increase the collision area of Kids’ punches; speed boots make the Kids faster. The time freeze power-up freezes time and enemies, on their spots, for three seconds. After 300k and 1M points, 10+-hit BDCC’s trigger extend power ups. Big BDCC’s thus act as the key mechanic in the game: they release power-ups and clear screens off enemies quickly.
Zako enemies come in various shapes and rather odd looks, along with various amounts of H(it)P(oint)s. Spiky hair guys, mullet boys and floating NFL kids require only one combo (i.e. three hits) to start a combo. B-boy dancers and iron pipe skinheads require six hits; Steroid-stuffed cyborgs with extendable arms require three combos. Bosses take considerably more hits, and cannot be involved in BDCC’s, but receive damage from this attack type. Enemies can quickly go down if characters collect five propeller cans and the “JetPack Special” power-up (JPS). Players will become invulnerable for 3 seconds and will rotate their arms like windmills, BDCC’ing every enemy in their path. Since most screens include dozens of enemies, JPS’s can “clean” screens to great effect to obliterate enemies. More in general, screens generally require few seconds to clear as far as players trigger the right BDCC’s or use JPS’s.
The game comes into three revisions that slightly differ in how the game mechanics work. In the “World Revision 1” and “Japanese Revision”, players have 40 seconds per screen. However, in the Japanese Revision players can input up or down directions when punching, and thus send enemies up or down the screen’s boundaries. Consequently, BDCC’s can become quite chaotic because players can use them to clear screens in any direction. A third version, simply dubbed “World Revision”, lacks this mechanic but has quite more aggressive enemies and gives 30 seconds per screen rather than 40. Common to all versions is the possibility to choose the order of stages: players can e.g. clear stage 6 first, then stage 1 and so on. Stage 7, Pseudo-Kingpin’s hideout, is however always the last stage. Players can thus customise their preferred path according to their preferences, before beating up the final bald fatso.
The difficulty of a selected stage is based on the selected order: stage 6 as the first selected stage is relatively easy and the boss will not be so aggressive. Conversely, stage 1 as the sixth selected stage can be challenging. The number of screens per stage also varies together with order. The first two selected stages include three screens, a mid-boss fight and a boss fight (i.e. five screens in total). The third and fourth selected stages add a fourth screen (i.e. six screens in total); the fifth and sixth selected stage, a fifth screen (i.e. seven screens in total). The mid-boss is a black-clad NFL kid also using a jetpack, with red-clad helpers: beat the poor lad six times, one per stage except the last stage. The seventh stage has six stages plus four boss battles, with the tenth screen featuring the final showdown.
The game’s mechanics, differences across revisions and the flexible stage order can perhaps create a feeling of “principled chaos” in players. Furthermore, characters lose their power-ups once hit, but can gain them back as soon as they trigger decent BDCC’s. Nevertheless, ending up depowered during boss battles can be dangerous a, since boss battles tend to be long and tricky. The final boss rush involving screens seven to 10 on Stage seven becomes quite hard without power ups. More in general, the game requires players to trigger BDCC’s and/or JPS’s not only to quickly clear screens and collect points via power-ups, but also to avoid unpleasant situations. Enemies appear by the dozens and bosses are aggressive and resilient; be aggressive and fast as you can, because prudent approaches will generally receive merciless punishment. Funky Jet is ultimately an entertaining game of speed over precision: be quick or be dead.
Before we discuss the game’s difficulty, it is necessary to write a few words about its audio-visual department. Visually, the game has a bright and colourful palette, with relatively well-animated characters and enemies, and an interesting use of “landscape” backgrounds. Stages are set in different places surrounding the bad guys’ casino-like hideout, and feature the kids’ city districts. The more screens a stage includes, the fuller view players get of a district via the backgrounds. The stages are sometimes too frantic and visually crowded to let players enjoy the view. Perhaps, some players may need some time to absorb the sometimes-considerable number of moving enemies on-screen: screens on Stage seven, for instance, may involve sudden slow-down due to this factor. However, the vaguely JoJo-esque style drawings and the incredibly zany, flamboyant design should crack a smile in players’ faces a smile more than once.
The soundtrack attempts to have a “funky” vibe with synthesizer effects originating in Data East’s early games. Also in perfect early 1990s style, it tries to be vibrant if a bit “camp funk”. Tracing the author of the OST (and, indeed, any programmer on this game) of this game appears difficult. However, the style of Hiroaki Yoshida’s early synthetizer-heavy works seeps through the themes. Thus, Stage one’s funky beat sets up a brilliant and humorous atmosphere; the [url=ttps://vgmsite.com/soundtracks/funky-jet-arcade/epydkzof/04_Boss%20Fight.mp3]Boss Fight[/url] theme sets the scene for quite intriguing fights. The Final Stage theme veers into a dramatic style that aptly matches the “Boss Lair” visual design. Of course, sound effects are loud and have a “Wap Boom Boom” campy aural feeling, even if at times they sound poorly sampled. The game looks and sound campy, zany, and genuinely proud about it.
Let us move to a discussion of difficulty, then., via the by now standard method of scoring. Since Funky Jet is a hybrid game, I believe that its difficulty lies in how it implements the platform mechanics (first facet), the beat’em up mechanics (second facet), and their interaction (third facet). Players may initially struggle to handle a free-floating character that must quickly slam enemies against walls, and who mostly move on platforms. Platform-based mechanics may thus require a bit of practice to get a hang of. Players may also struggle with the initially wimpy punches and, in the Japanese version, the possibility to trigger up- and downward BDCC’s as crowd-control manoeuvres. The beat’em up Facets are thus simple yet not so intuitive, and hence may require a bit of practice. The platform mechanics follow a similar trajectory, even if they are perhaps simpler, after all.
The game then centres on triggering massive BDCC’s, on being able to cope with the “principled chaos” approach and, to be honest, on learning to handle long boss fights. In both cases, the hybrid nature of the game, its third Facet, comes out clearly, and with it an annoying if rather specific aspect: cheap boss patterns. All bosses have at least one attack that is innocuous once you know how to handle it, but treacherous when encountered for the first few times. For instance, Pseudo-Kingpin has a jetpack-based attack. When players complete a combo, he rolls back but immediately springs forth in an ascending or descending trajectory. The attack is easy to dodge and can combo enemies: the boss can clear the screen from his own henchmen to the benefit of players. Players must however master the tricky timing necessary to dodge this attack, or lose half an energy bar.
Overall, we can assume that first and second Facet are worth 17 points, and the third Facet, 16 points out of the total 50. For the first and second Facets, we can have 6/17 and 6/17 difficulty points, but for the third Facet, a further sub-Facet are the RNG nature of item drops. The extend lives appear after players reach a certain score and then trigger a 11+-hit combo. Players may sweat over getting extends before stages 4 and 7, on average, and the game only gives one stock life. Thus, the third Facet motivates a 6+4=10/16 difficulty points value. Some might argue that the RNG factors are a fourth “jank” Facet (of Data East provenance, perhaps), but ultimately contribute another manageable if annoying Facet to the game’s overall challenge. At 22/50 difficulty points in total, Funky Jet is bottom-tier 1-CC challenge for expert players.
And now the experiences, strong of our anti-Xenomorph protection (Xenny, stop hissing and go watching NRL or something). It is summer of 1992 and I have become a rather cocky teen who has cleared quite a few videogames, by this point. When I see this game in my uncle’s arcade for the first time, I feel almost amused: Mitchell is for me the Pang! and Super Pang! company, but the game “feels” Data East indeed. Furthermore, I am getting the stronger and stronger feeling that platform games are slowly disappearing, even if the new ones are generally beautiful. Jaleco’s Rodland was adorable if easy, Toaplan’s Pipi and Bibis ultra-though but fun, and Data East’s Super Burger Time and TumblePop gloriously fun. My 1992 self can already guess that the arcade world is changing quickly and veering towards a beautiful, painful, long swansong.
I try a few credits and remain quite confused by the mechanics: the floating mechanism and the tiny punching area make me play in a very defensive manner. I certainly enjoy the music, even if I wonder about why a Mitchell game has a Data East-sounding OST. I admit that the campy style leaves me almost embarrassed. Early 1990s’ obsession with coolness is something that my 1992 self really cannot suffer, especially because my father forces me to wear Wayfarer glasses. I spend a good couple of months playing the game with gusto and dedication, along with Data East’s Wolf Fang/Rohga. I slowly grasp how to release these massive hits obliterating all enemies at once and enjoy the brilliant atmosphere of the game. I must admit, though, that boss fights are so annoying that I keep thinking to quite playing the game every time I hit a slump, i.e. often.
In late September I clear the game for the first time, once I finally master the supremely annoying final boss rush. The pseudo-Kingpin guy first appears as a face on these floating UFOs doubling as giant screens: the designers must have watched Max Headroom, I guess. The final screen alone takes me three weeks to clear, and I am almost in tears when I can finally “win the game”. Denise is behind me, watching my progress: she does not like the game but from time to time she and her boyfriend act as cheering spectators. I remember that the number of backhanded compliments they give me after the clear would have made a saint snap in seething rage. At 12, with a father and a uncle who offer these compliments on a 24/7 basis, I almost do not register them and thank them politely, tsk.
It is now 2014 and I am currently working in Sweden. I have little time and patience for videogames but, from time to time, I like to revisit “old glories” and 1-CC them again, possibly via different revisions. I discover that I 1-CC’ed the World 1 version as a kid: I am thus missing the “World” and JP versions from my 1-CC CV. I spend an interesting summer playing these two versions during darkness-free nights: Stockholm lacks midnight sun, but the dusk lasts from 11 pm to 2 am. I get the 1-CC on both version in late July, when the dusky nights have almost ceded their place to the returning night. It is a strange sensation: once more I go back to “game grudges” and clear games that eluded me as a kid. As my 2025 self knows, closure and recursive memories trigger a sense of pleasant detachment.
Let us conclude with this cryptic note, and summarise. Funky Jet is a hybrid single-screen platformer/beat’em up/action game with a funky, campy style and a fast gameplay. Players must clear seven Stages and multiple screens to free Blue Kid and Green’s city from the clutches of Pseudo-Kingpin. The game offers thus a frantic, fast-paced approach to platform via the use and abuse of Beat Down Cascaded Combos (BDCC’s), and various power-ups. The game also offers a very campy, funky and cool 1990s style that might appeal to the nostalgic feelings of players. The game offers some Data East vibes via the OST and some more “janky” aspects of its mechanics, but it is an overall (relatively) polished game. Players who want a solid 1-CC in a hybrid form of this genre can thus pursue the achievement via three versions featuring relatively distinct game mechanics.
(2779 words, or seven pages in times new roman size 12, single space; The usual disclaimers apply; this is another revision that took me longer than expected to complete. In retrospective, the game features the “Gordian Knot” approach, some jankiness, a DECO-ish OST and a weird sense of humour. However, the game mechanics are solid enough to originate in Mitchell’s design, I believe. Online sources seem to offer two versions, on matters of authorship. One camp considers it a Data East Game released by Mitchell, as this flyer suggests; the other version has the opposite view. The game does not offer any credits after completion, but this flyer for the Japanese market should be meaningful. Personally, I suspect that a mixed team work on the game and decided to blur these matters so that people in the future would get crazy by approaching this as an “either-or” problem, ah!).
Funky Jet ( Data East, 1992; distributed by Mitchell) is a single-screener platform/beat’em up hybrid. Two kids wearing jetpacks, boxing gloves, leather skullcaps and pilot googles must beat the endless hordes of a shady business magnate who looks like Marvel’s Kingpin. The two kids (1P “Blue Kid” and 2P “Green Kid”) use their jetpacks to float and move in any direction; enemies must however walk on platforms. The kids need three punches, humorously labelled “wap wap bom!” hits in the demo screen, to beat basic enemies. Beaten enemies will fly to the opposite side of the screen (e.g. left if punched from the right) and overwhelm all the other enemies on their path. The goal of this squib is to convince readers that this game is highly entertaining due to its humour and very quirky game mechanics. 1-CC’ing Funky Jet would thus be an interesting experience for any player.
In our previous squibs, we discussed Data East’s releases in the early 1990s at length. Here, we can discuss Mitchell’s works during this period. Mitchell successfully released Pang! and Super Pang! (1989, 1990), but it remained a small studio. In 1992, they released The Karate Tournament as their attempt at chipping in the vs. fighter craze. In 1993, they released Double Wings, a shmup that might qualify as a Raiden clone. In a few years Mitchell would release their greatest achievements: action classic Osman in 1996, single-screen puzzle classic Puzz Loop, entertaining action/platformer Charlie Ninja in 1994, and Pang! 3 in 1995. In 1992, however, they joined forces with Data East to release this single-screen game, Funky Jet. Alas, the genre was ultimately fading away, as discussed in the Diet Go Go squib. Nevertheless, as a publisher and distributor Mitchell had considerable reach outside Japan; Data East capitalised on this reach.
The rather simple plot can be summarised as follows. Blue Kid and Green Kid must clear six stages with multiple sub-stages/screens before they can access stage 7, beat down “Pseudo-Kingpin”, and free their metropolis from his shady business clutches. To do so, they must beat up (pardon, “wap bam boom”) tons of goons sporting impossibly illegal fashion choices (e.g. mullets, tank tops, and so on). Blue kid and Green kid seem to be simple kids who are fighting just to avoid becoming corporate pawns of Pseudo-kingpin; Pseudo-Kingpin seems to want to turn the unnamed metropolis into a giant casino. The narration might be incredibly simple and purely textless, but the general atmosphere should clear. The fact that even Pseudo-Kingpin has a trashy look (i.e. giant earrings and cigar, boxing gloves during the final fight) tells players that the game oozes tons of zany humour.
The game’s peculiar mechanics work as follows. Players can move the characters in eight directions: due to gravity, characters drift downwards if players do no input any direction. Characters can land 3-hit punch combos with the A button and, if players tap fast enough, they can float on the spot. When characters combo an enemy, the enemy flies at high speed against the opposite side of the screen. Enemies acting as “projectiles” will cause automatic “Beat Down Cascaded Combos” (BDCC’s): one enemy can hit multiple enemies, who will hit further enemies (i.e. the “cascade” effect). Characters can also hit enemies via the “spinning attack” activated via the B button (“wam wam wow”, in the demo screen). The characters spin on the spot and flip enemies on the other side when hit: three flipping hits count as a combo and thus beat down basic enemies.
B button punches are thus useful to place enemies on whichever side may offer the best BDCC. Furthermore, BDCC’s release power-ups based on the number of overwhelmed enemies. A one-hit BDCC releases a “jetpack can”; two- to N-hit BDCC’s release other power ups in increasing level of usefulness. For instance, two/three-hit BDCC’s release a “heart” and refill 2 bars of energy (out of 64) for the characters. Four-hit BDCC’s trigger either power gloves or speed boots; seven-hit BDCC’s trigger a time freeze power-up plus other four power-ups. Power gloves increase the collision area of Kids’ punches; speed boots make the Kids faster. The time freeze power-up freezes time and enemies, on their spots, for three seconds. After 300k and 1M points, 10+-hit BDCC’s trigger extend power ups. Big BDCC’s thus act as the key mechanic in the game: they release power-ups and clear screens off enemies quickly.
Zako enemies come in various shapes and rather odd looks, along with various amounts of H(it)P(oint)s. Spiky hair guys, mullet boys and floating NFL kids require only one combo (i.e. three hits) to start a combo. B-boy dancers and iron pipe skinheads require six hits; Steroid-stuffed cyborgs with extendable arms require three combos. Bosses take considerably more hits, and cannot be involved in BDCC’s, but receive damage from this attack type. Enemies can quickly go down if characters collect five propeller cans and the “JetPack Special” power-up (JPS). Players will become invulnerable for 3 seconds and will rotate their arms like windmills, BDCC’ing every enemy in their path. Since most screens include dozens of enemies, JPS’s can “clean” screens to great effect to obliterate enemies. More in general, screens generally require few seconds to clear as far as players trigger the right BDCC’s or use JPS’s.
The game comes into three revisions that slightly differ in how the game mechanics work. In the “World Revision 1” and “Japanese Revision”, players have 40 seconds per screen. However, in the Japanese Revision players can input up or down directions when punching, and thus send enemies up or down the screen’s boundaries. Consequently, BDCC’s can become quite chaotic because players can use them to clear screens in any direction. A third version, simply dubbed “World Revision”, lacks this mechanic but has quite more aggressive enemies and gives 30 seconds per screen rather than 40. Common to all versions is the possibility to choose the order of stages: players can e.g. clear stage 6 first, then stage 1 and so on. Stage 7, Pseudo-Kingpin’s hideout, is however always the last stage. Players can thus customise their preferred path according to their preferences, before beating up the final bald fatso.
The difficulty of a selected stage is based on the selected order: stage 6 as the first selected stage is relatively easy and the boss will not be so aggressive. Conversely, stage 1 as the sixth selected stage can be challenging. The number of screens per stage also varies together with order. The first two selected stages include three screens, a mid-boss fight and a boss fight (i.e. five screens in total). The third and fourth selected stages add a fourth screen (i.e. six screens in total); the fifth and sixth selected stage, a fifth screen (i.e. seven screens in total). The mid-boss is a black-clad NFL kid also using a jetpack, with red-clad helpers: beat the poor lad six times, one per stage except the last stage. The seventh stage has six stages plus four boss battles, with the tenth screen featuring the final showdown.
The game’s mechanics, differences across revisions and the flexible stage order can perhaps create a feeling of “principled chaos” in players. Furthermore, characters lose their power-ups once hit, but can gain them back as soon as they trigger decent BDCC’s. Nevertheless, ending up depowered during boss battles can be dangerous a, since boss battles tend to be long and tricky. The final boss rush involving screens seven to 10 on Stage seven becomes quite hard without power ups. More in general, the game requires players to trigger BDCC’s and/or JPS’s not only to quickly clear screens and collect points via power-ups, but also to avoid unpleasant situations. Enemies appear by the dozens and bosses are aggressive and resilient; be aggressive and fast as you can, because prudent approaches will generally receive merciless punishment. Funky Jet is ultimately an entertaining game of speed over precision: be quick or be dead.
Before we discuss the game’s difficulty, it is necessary to write a few words about its audio-visual department. Visually, the game has a bright and colourful palette, with relatively well-animated characters and enemies, and an interesting use of “landscape” backgrounds. Stages are set in different places surrounding the bad guys’ casino-like hideout, and feature the kids’ city districts. The more screens a stage includes, the fuller view players get of a district via the backgrounds. The stages are sometimes too frantic and visually crowded to let players enjoy the view. Perhaps, some players may need some time to absorb the sometimes-considerable number of moving enemies on-screen: screens on Stage seven, for instance, may involve sudden slow-down due to this factor. However, the vaguely JoJo-esque style drawings and the incredibly zany, flamboyant design should crack a smile in players’ faces a smile more than once.
The soundtrack attempts to have a “funky” vibe with synthesizer effects originating in Data East’s early games. Also in perfect early 1990s style, it tries to be vibrant if a bit “camp funk”. Tracing the author of the OST (and, indeed, any programmer on this game) of this game appears difficult. However, the style of Hiroaki Yoshida’s early synthetizer-heavy works seeps through the themes. Thus, Stage one’s funky beat sets up a brilliant and humorous atmosphere; the [url=ttps://vgmsite.com/soundtracks/funky-jet-arcade/epydkzof/04_Boss%20Fight.mp3]Boss Fight[/url] theme sets the scene for quite intriguing fights. The Final Stage theme veers into a dramatic style that aptly matches the “Boss Lair” visual design. Of course, sound effects are loud and have a “Wap Boom Boom” campy aural feeling, even if at times they sound poorly sampled. The game looks and sound campy, zany, and genuinely proud about it.
Let us move to a discussion of difficulty, then., via the by now standard method of scoring. Since Funky Jet is a hybrid game, I believe that its difficulty lies in how it implements the platform mechanics (first facet), the beat’em up mechanics (second facet), and their interaction (third facet). Players may initially struggle to handle a free-floating character that must quickly slam enemies against walls, and who mostly move on platforms. Platform-based mechanics may thus require a bit of practice to get a hang of. Players may also struggle with the initially wimpy punches and, in the Japanese version, the possibility to trigger up- and downward BDCC’s as crowd-control manoeuvres. The beat’em up Facets are thus simple yet not so intuitive, and hence may require a bit of practice. The platform mechanics follow a similar trajectory, even if they are perhaps simpler, after all.
The game then centres on triggering massive BDCC’s, on being able to cope with the “principled chaos” approach and, to be honest, on learning to handle long boss fights. In both cases, the hybrid nature of the game, its third Facet, comes out clearly, and with it an annoying if rather specific aspect: cheap boss patterns. All bosses have at least one attack that is innocuous once you know how to handle it, but treacherous when encountered for the first few times. For instance, Pseudo-Kingpin has a jetpack-based attack. When players complete a combo, he rolls back but immediately springs forth in an ascending or descending trajectory. The attack is easy to dodge and can combo enemies: the boss can clear the screen from his own henchmen to the benefit of players. Players must however master the tricky timing necessary to dodge this attack, or lose half an energy bar.
Overall, we can assume that first and second Facet are worth 17 points, and the third Facet, 16 points out of the total 50. For the first and second Facets, we can have 6/17 and 6/17 difficulty points, but for the third Facet, a further sub-Facet are the RNG nature of item drops. The extend lives appear after players reach a certain score and then trigger a 11+-hit combo. Players may sweat over getting extends before stages 4 and 7, on average, and the game only gives one stock life. Thus, the third Facet motivates a 6+4=10/16 difficulty points value. Some might argue that the RNG factors are a fourth “jank” Facet (of Data East provenance, perhaps), but ultimately contribute another manageable if annoying Facet to the game’s overall challenge. At 22/50 difficulty points in total, Funky Jet is bottom-tier 1-CC challenge for expert players.
And now the experiences, strong of our anti-Xenomorph protection (Xenny, stop hissing and go watching NRL or something). It is summer of 1992 and I have become a rather cocky teen who has cleared quite a few videogames, by this point. When I see this game in my uncle’s arcade for the first time, I feel almost amused: Mitchell is for me the Pang! and Super Pang! company, but the game “feels” Data East indeed. Furthermore, I am getting the stronger and stronger feeling that platform games are slowly disappearing, even if the new ones are generally beautiful. Jaleco’s Rodland was adorable if easy, Toaplan’s Pipi and Bibis ultra-though but fun, and Data East’s Super Burger Time and TumblePop gloriously fun. My 1992 self can already guess that the arcade world is changing quickly and veering towards a beautiful, painful, long swansong.
I try a few credits and remain quite confused by the mechanics: the floating mechanism and the tiny punching area make me play in a very defensive manner. I certainly enjoy the music, even if I wonder about why a Mitchell game has a Data East-sounding OST. I admit that the campy style leaves me almost embarrassed. Early 1990s’ obsession with coolness is something that my 1992 self really cannot suffer, especially because my father forces me to wear Wayfarer glasses. I spend a good couple of months playing the game with gusto and dedication, along with Data East’s Wolf Fang/Rohga. I slowly grasp how to release these massive hits obliterating all enemies at once and enjoy the brilliant atmosphere of the game. I must admit, though, that boss fights are so annoying that I keep thinking to quite playing the game every time I hit a slump, i.e. often.
In late September I clear the game for the first time, once I finally master the supremely annoying final boss rush. The pseudo-Kingpin guy first appears as a face on these floating UFOs doubling as giant screens: the designers must have watched Max Headroom, I guess. The final screen alone takes me three weeks to clear, and I am almost in tears when I can finally “win the game”. Denise is behind me, watching my progress: she does not like the game but from time to time she and her boyfriend act as cheering spectators. I remember that the number of backhanded compliments they give me after the clear would have made a saint snap in seething rage. At 12, with a father and a uncle who offer these compliments on a 24/7 basis, I almost do not register them and thank them politely, tsk.
It is now 2014 and I am currently working in Sweden. I have little time and patience for videogames but, from time to time, I like to revisit “old glories” and 1-CC them again, possibly via different revisions. I discover that I 1-CC’ed the World 1 version as a kid: I am thus missing the “World” and JP versions from my 1-CC CV. I spend an interesting summer playing these two versions during darkness-free nights: Stockholm lacks midnight sun, but the dusk lasts from 11 pm to 2 am. I get the 1-CC on both version in late July, when the dusky nights have almost ceded their place to the returning night. It is a strange sensation: once more I go back to “game grudges” and clear games that eluded me as a kid. As my 2025 self knows, closure and recursive memories trigger a sense of pleasant detachment.
Let us conclude with this cryptic note, and summarise. Funky Jet is a hybrid single-screen platformer/beat’em up/action game with a funky, campy style and a fast gameplay. Players must clear seven Stages and multiple screens to free Blue Kid and Green’s city from the clutches of Pseudo-Kingpin. The game offers thus a frantic, fast-paced approach to platform via the use and abuse of Beat Down Cascaded Combos (BDCC’s), and various power-ups. The game also offers a very campy, funky and cool 1990s style that might appeal to the nostalgic feelings of players. The game offers some Data East vibes via the OST and some more “janky” aspects of its mechanics, but it is an overall (relatively) polished game. Players who want a solid 1-CC in a hybrid form of this genre can thus pursue the achievement via three versions featuring relatively distinct game mechanics.
(2779 words, or seven pages in times new roman size 12, single space; The usual disclaimers apply; this is another revision that took me longer than expected to complete. In retrospective, the game features the “Gordian Knot” approach, some jankiness, a DECO-ish OST and a weird sense of humour. However, the game mechanics are solid enough to originate in Mitchell’s design, I believe. Online sources seem to offer two versions, on matters of authorship. One camp considers it a Data East Game released by Mitchell, as this flyer suggests; the other version has the opposite view. The game does not offer any credits after completion, but this flyer for the Japanese market should be meaningful. Personally, I suspect that a mixed team work on the game and decided to blur these matters so that people in the future would get crazy by approaching this as an “either-or” problem, ah!).
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
Squibs and their Structure
In this squib I offer an outline of squibs and their structure that, truth to be told, was long overdue. My goal is thus to explain some aspects (or, perhaps, Facets) of this personal micro-genre of text that I am defining, as I map the games I played so far. I usually try to offer highly compact overviews, and thus part of the squibs’ content remains implicit: I leave readers to infer this content. In this squib, I attempt an explanation on how to make these inferences in a hopefully not very convoluted manner.
I start from the “introduction” paragraph/part and the “boilerplate” paragraph/part, i.e. the paragraph/part introducing squibs. In the boilerplate paragraph/part, I offer a general or perhaps meta-overview of the squib and possibly of plans involving squibs. I mention key ports of the game, and other details that I may consider important but orthogonal to the squib’s content and goal. I mentioned formatting aspects only in passing; however, I try to write paragraphs that do not exceed the 150 words. For sentences, I try to stay between 12 and 25 words, also. These numbers are optimal for [url=ttps://insidegovuk.blog.gov.uk/2014/08/04/sentence-length-why-25-words-is-our-limit/]reading comprehension[/url], rather than norms about writing texts. In the introduction, I offer a 150-words-max summary of the squib and I introduce my goal in writing the squib. Usually, I have one goal: convince readers that the game is worth 1-C(redit)C(lear)’ing. You may want to count words in this paragraph and its sentences, in case.
In the “context” and “world setting” parts (i.e. second and third paragraphs of the squib), I respectively introduce a general context for the game under discussion and its fictional world. The notion of context is a complex one, but it is useful to think of “context” as the Facets of the “real world” that affected the game’s release. I may discuss the historical context of release, previous or successive related games that a company released, or connect the game to an erstwhile emerging or popular genre. These parts may be dense with references/links to other webpages or texts: please be sure to skim them for further information and readings. The world setting part (sometimes, two paragraphs) offers an overview of the fictional world and the story that the game presents, if there is one. Arcade games tell highly concise stories in tersely sculpted worlds: these paragraphs provide even terser summaries.
In the “game mechanics” part (usually, fourth to seventh, eighth paragraph), I outline the games’ mechanics, intended as those Facets of the game on which the players have direct control. I start from controls, usually, as I believe that offering an overview of the basics can offer insights on easily overlooked Facets of the game (e.g. jump options). I then move from the “hardware-based” mechanics to the “software”-driven mechanics: how a game engine works, and what basic options players have (e.g. choice of characters, weapons). I try to avoid dwelling too deep in game mechanics, especially when we have dedicated threads in the Strategy forum (for shmups), or guides on some other site. I provide links to these guides, when these are available. Readers can usually count the number of mechanics I discuss, so that they can already guess the difficulty value I assign to a game.
Please note, however, that in the “Visuals” and “Sound” parts (usually, ninth and tenth paragraphs; possibly two paragraphs per part) I outline the aesthetic Facets of the game. For the Visuals, I usually discuss the basic Facets aspects of the presentation but also the design motifs that visually define a game world. I provide a similar analysis for the Sounds part, and often introduce composers, key songs in the game, and discuss sound effects as well. I discuss these parts before the “Difficulty” part for a simple though perhaps not objective reason, for the lack of a better reason. I believe that once readers understand how the game plays (the “game” part) and appears (the “video” part), we can address more subjective Facets. Indeed, I give more relevance to the “game” part”: I do not completely disregard the “video” (and “sound”) parts, however.
The “Difficulty” part (usually, the eleventh to fourteenth paragraphs) presents my opinion on what makes a game potentially “difficult”, i.e. a challenge for players who want to obtain a 1-CC. I only write squibs about games I have 1-CC’ed, and about which I believe to have a decent if subjective understanding of their various Facets. By this part, I discuss in more detail the “Stage layout/design” and other parts of the game’s engine on which the player has little or no control. I usually explain what Facets of specific Stages, or how Facets of Stage design can provide sources of difficulty. So far, I have proposed that Dynamic Difficulty Adjustment/Rank,the interaction of game mechanics and Stage Design, and sometimes other related Facets (e.g. Auto-fire or other hardware-related Facets) also determine difficulty. I do not exclude that I will mention other types/Facets of difficulty, in the future.
I use the template from the shmups difficulty wiki in a highly personalised manner. I assume that “50” is the top difficulty for a game, and then design the weight of each difficulty macro-Facet by decomposing its single composing micro-Facets. If I propose that game mechanics are worth 10 points and Stage design/layout 40 (out of 5), it is because I believe that a game’s difficulty focuses on “solving” Stages. I give partial scores to each macro-Facet by motivating which micro-Facets motivate one (1) difficulty points. If learning how to use jumps in a game requires practice (i.e. it may “difficult”), it is 1 point of difficulty: five game mechanics may sum up to 5/10 difficulty points, in this illustrative example. If a game has 30 Stages requiring practice, then I assign 30/40 points to the Stage design/layout Facet. The grand total is (5+30)/(10+40)=35/50 difficulty points.
Difficulty levels, as recycled from the wiki, are: 0-10 (points) for beginner players; 11-20 for intermediate players; 21-30 for expert players; 31-40 for master players; 41-50 for grand master players. The use of macro-Facet scores is useful for grasping the difficulty of these Facets. In our toy example, a 5/10 difficulty value entails that the game mechanics are not so important in a game’s economy: they form 20% of the difficulty. They are however demanding, since they correspond to an “expert” level of difficulty (or: 5/10 is equivalent to a total 25/50 points). In our toy example, Stage design/layout is heavily relevant macro-Facet: 30/40 points correspond to a 37.5/50 total points, and thus to a “master” level. I omit discussions of “learning time”: if players can overcome each difficulty point in a 50/50 in one hour per point, they can potentially 1-CC the game in 50 hours of practice, maybe.
The “Experiences” part (usually, the fifteenth to nineteenth paragraphs) involve a highly subjective, almost phenomenological narration of my experiences with the game. I try to remember when and how I played the game over the years, and how I ended pu 1-CC’ing the game. Often, I narrate these parts by trying to remember what I was thinking and feeling when playing the game, and by avoiding using my current “gaming lexicon”. As a kid, I did not use “1-CC” or similar words. I usually mention “Xenny”, a nickname for a Xenomorph statue I have on my desk, because I use him as a “dummy interlocutor” when thinking aloud. I am not very good at thinking aloud by myself, so a prop is helpful to entertain other points of view. I have many imaginary friends, because the figments of my imagination are many and powerful.
The “Conclusion” part summarises the squib (twentieth paragraph); in the “Loose Ends” part, I mention formatting details and just rant at random, Harlan Ellison-style. I often add some more details about the game, or my experiences, or even tiny details about game mechanics that I forgot to insert where appropriate. For instance, I forgot to mention that I seldom discuss how get good scores in a game, unless I know and the topic belongs to the difficulty Part. I use links/references instead, and invite readers to read dedicated guides. In case you wonder, the length of this squib is 1414 words or 3.6 pages, size 12 times new roman, single space, and you have read all 1414 words once you read the final word. The final word is however not that one or even this one, but this one (“Raar, hiss! Oi mate! Enough!” said the Xenomorph!).
You might wonder about what is next, oh dear readers. A few more hours and we will have a nifty Double Dragon II squib online, and perhaps even some new plans to disclose.
I start from the “introduction” paragraph/part and the “boilerplate” paragraph/part, i.e. the paragraph/part introducing squibs. In the boilerplate paragraph/part, I offer a general or perhaps meta-overview of the squib and possibly of plans involving squibs. I mention key ports of the game, and other details that I may consider important but orthogonal to the squib’s content and goal. I mentioned formatting aspects only in passing; however, I try to write paragraphs that do not exceed the 150 words. For sentences, I try to stay between 12 and 25 words, also. These numbers are optimal for [url=ttps://insidegovuk.blog.gov.uk/2014/08/04/sentence-length-why-25-words-is-our-limit/]reading comprehension[/url], rather than norms about writing texts. In the introduction, I offer a 150-words-max summary of the squib and I introduce my goal in writing the squib. Usually, I have one goal: convince readers that the game is worth 1-C(redit)C(lear)’ing. You may want to count words in this paragraph and its sentences, in case.
In the “context” and “world setting” parts (i.e. second and third paragraphs of the squib), I respectively introduce a general context for the game under discussion and its fictional world. The notion of context is a complex one, but it is useful to think of “context” as the Facets of the “real world” that affected the game’s release. I may discuss the historical context of release, previous or successive related games that a company released, or connect the game to an erstwhile emerging or popular genre. These parts may be dense with references/links to other webpages or texts: please be sure to skim them for further information and readings. The world setting part (sometimes, two paragraphs) offers an overview of the fictional world and the story that the game presents, if there is one. Arcade games tell highly concise stories in tersely sculpted worlds: these paragraphs provide even terser summaries.
In the “game mechanics” part (usually, fourth to seventh, eighth paragraph), I outline the games’ mechanics, intended as those Facets of the game on which the players have direct control. I start from controls, usually, as I believe that offering an overview of the basics can offer insights on easily overlooked Facets of the game (e.g. jump options). I then move from the “hardware-based” mechanics to the “software”-driven mechanics: how a game engine works, and what basic options players have (e.g. choice of characters, weapons). I try to avoid dwelling too deep in game mechanics, especially when we have dedicated threads in the Strategy forum (for shmups), or guides on some other site. I provide links to these guides, when these are available. Readers can usually count the number of mechanics I discuss, so that they can already guess the difficulty value I assign to a game.
Please note, however, that in the “Visuals” and “Sound” parts (usually, ninth and tenth paragraphs; possibly two paragraphs per part) I outline the aesthetic Facets of the game. For the Visuals, I usually discuss the basic Facets aspects of the presentation but also the design motifs that visually define a game world. I provide a similar analysis for the Sounds part, and often introduce composers, key songs in the game, and discuss sound effects as well. I discuss these parts before the “Difficulty” part for a simple though perhaps not objective reason, for the lack of a better reason. I believe that once readers understand how the game plays (the “game” part) and appears (the “video” part), we can address more subjective Facets. Indeed, I give more relevance to the “game” part”: I do not completely disregard the “video” (and “sound”) parts, however.
The “Difficulty” part (usually, the eleventh to fourteenth paragraphs) presents my opinion on what makes a game potentially “difficult”, i.e. a challenge for players who want to obtain a 1-CC. I only write squibs about games I have 1-CC’ed, and about which I believe to have a decent if subjective understanding of their various Facets. By this part, I discuss in more detail the “Stage layout/design” and other parts of the game’s engine on which the player has little or no control. I usually explain what Facets of specific Stages, or how Facets of Stage design can provide sources of difficulty. So far, I have proposed that Dynamic Difficulty Adjustment/Rank,the interaction of game mechanics and Stage Design, and sometimes other related Facets (e.g. Auto-fire or other hardware-related Facets) also determine difficulty. I do not exclude that I will mention other types/Facets of difficulty, in the future.
I use the template from the shmups difficulty wiki in a highly personalised manner. I assume that “50” is the top difficulty for a game, and then design the weight of each difficulty macro-Facet by decomposing its single composing micro-Facets. If I propose that game mechanics are worth 10 points and Stage design/layout 40 (out of 5), it is because I believe that a game’s difficulty focuses on “solving” Stages. I give partial scores to each macro-Facet by motivating which micro-Facets motivate one (1) difficulty points. If learning how to use jumps in a game requires practice (i.e. it may “difficult”), it is 1 point of difficulty: five game mechanics may sum up to 5/10 difficulty points, in this illustrative example. If a game has 30 Stages requiring practice, then I assign 30/40 points to the Stage design/layout Facet. The grand total is (5+30)/(10+40)=35/50 difficulty points.
Difficulty levels, as recycled from the wiki, are: 0-10 (points) for beginner players; 11-20 for intermediate players; 21-30 for expert players; 31-40 for master players; 41-50 for grand master players. The use of macro-Facet scores is useful for grasping the difficulty of these Facets. In our toy example, a 5/10 difficulty value entails that the game mechanics are not so important in a game’s economy: they form 20% of the difficulty. They are however demanding, since they correspond to an “expert” level of difficulty (or: 5/10 is equivalent to a total 25/50 points). In our toy example, Stage design/layout is heavily relevant macro-Facet: 30/40 points correspond to a 37.5/50 total points, and thus to a “master” level. I omit discussions of “learning time”: if players can overcome each difficulty point in a 50/50 in one hour per point, they can potentially 1-CC the game in 50 hours of practice, maybe.
The “Experiences” part (usually, the fifteenth to nineteenth paragraphs) involve a highly subjective, almost phenomenological narration of my experiences with the game. I try to remember when and how I played the game over the years, and how I ended pu 1-CC’ing the game. Often, I narrate these parts by trying to remember what I was thinking and feeling when playing the game, and by avoiding using my current “gaming lexicon”. As a kid, I did not use “1-CC” or similar words. I usually mention “Xenny”, a nickname for a Xenomorph statue I have on my desk, because I use him as a “dummy interlocutor” when thinking aloud. I am not very good at thinking aloud by myself, so a prop is helpful to entertain other points of view. I have many imaginary friends, because the figments of my imagination are many and powerful.
The “Conclusion” part summarises the squib (twentieth paragraph); in the “Loose Ends” part, I mention formatting details and just rant at random, Harlan Ellison-style. I often add some more details about the game, or my experiences, or even tiny details about game mechanics that I forgot to insert where appropriate. For instance, I forgot to mention that I seldom discuss how get good scores in a game, unless I know and the topic belongs to the difficulty Part. I use links/references instead, and invite readers to read dedicated guides. In case you wonder, the length of this squib is 1414 words or 3.6 pages, size 12 times new roman, single space, and you have read all 1414 words once you read the final word. The final word is however not that one or even this one, but this one (“Raar, hiss! Oi mate! Enough!” said the Xenomorph!).
You might wonder about what is next, oh dear readers. A few more hours and we will have a nifty Double Dragon II squib online, and perhaps even some new plans to disclose.
Last edited by Randorama on Sun Jul 06, 2025 9:37 am, edited 1 time in total.
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
Double Dragon II (Technos, 1988)
In this squib we discuss Double Dragon II, thus exhausting the set of DD arcade games on which Technōs (and the original Double Dragon crew) worked. This game was not as popular as the first chapter, but nevertheless received multiple ports across multiple platforms (read the wiki below for details). The Famicom/NES and SMS/Megadrive are different enough from the arcade version, to the extent that they are distinct games. A South Korean remake appeared in 2015 for PC, but it is best forgotten. The game also has a remarkably dark plot, as we are going to discuss in proper order in the squib:
Double Dragon II (Technōs, 1988) is a beat’em up/belt scroller that pits again brothers Billy and Jimmy Lee against Willy and his henchmen. The game is notable for having considerably improved graphics and sound, and a Stage design/layout mostly identical to the first game. The game is also notable for being considerably more difficult than the first chapter and for acting as technical/conceptual sequel to Renegade/Nekketsu kunio-kun, too. Players who found the first chapter too easy should thus enjoy this chapter, if they can get a hang of the controls. Players should also enjoy the game as far as they can appreciate the steep difficulty curve, especially once they enter Willy’s lair. The goal of this squib is to provide arguments to convince players that this title is an interesting 1-CC to include into a gamer’s portfolio, as long as they willing to master the final stage.
A bit of context, if we may. In 1988, beat’em ups were still an embryonal game. Capcom’s Final Fight would appear in 1989, while Taito released Kageki, a banchō-themed vs. fighter, and Kuri Kinton, a Spartan X clone with a remarkably wacky anime-inspired design. In the Sports thread, we briefly discussed how companies were exploring wrestling games of various appeal and style. In 1988, Technōs also released China Gate, a beat’em up/platform hybrid based on Journey to the West, and Championship V’Ball, a veritable quarter-muncher beach volleyball game. We have discussed Technōs’ success in the console arena at length across different threads (e.g. the Super Dodge Ball, Double Dragon threads), thanks to the Kunio-kun franchise. Technōs were pretty much a powerful “minnow company”, in the late 1980s: they released simple but well-crafted games that had a considerable impact and left a notable legacy.
With this point in mind, let us move to the plot of the game, which is remarkably dark though simple. Warning: my summary starts with a spoiler that does not need a hiding tag, for each credit of the game opens with this spoiler. Willy and his gang appear in front of the Lee brothers’ helicopter hangar, and brutally murder Marian, Billy’s girlfriend. The two brothers appear after the murder has been committed, and pursue a quest of vengeance. After four Stages through the city and the countryside, the two brothers enter Willy’s new lair and exterminate his gang. Their final fight is against their own doppelgangers, who seem to incarnate all the hatred and negative feelings that the two brothers have accumulated in this harrowing quest. The game ends with a picture of Marian and the two brothers, on which a character out of camera sheds a tear.
The game’s mechanics move away from the Double Dragon scheme and mostly follow the Renegade/Nekketsu Kunio-kun scheme. The joystick controls movement in eight directions, and permits Billy and Jimmy to climb stairs when present. The A/”left” button controls attacks to the left; the B button jumps; the C/”right” button controls attacks to the right. When the two brothers face left, the A button controls forward/left punches, and the C button controls backward/right kicks. When the two brothers face right, the C button controls forward/right punches, and the A button controls backward/left kicks. Simpler: look right, press C, give punch or press A, give kick; look left, press A, give punch or press C, give kick. Jumping and kicking back slightly lower than top height triggers the “hurricane kick”: characters spin a vertical kick for two full circles, and floor any enemy they hit.
The game has several other returning moves. Billy and Jimmy can jump and kick forward and perform elbow hits (backward attack button+jump). Players can also grab enemies and repeatedly knee them in the face (get next to an enemy, push forward attack) possibly ending the four-hit combo with a throw on the opposite side (push backward attack). A double tap with the joystick performs a Glasgow kiss, of course. Punches have new three-hit combos: left, right punch, then hook. Kick combos can include one or two backward kicks and a second or third roundhouse kick. Weapons include grenades, knives, whips and shovels, which can be thrown by pressing A/C+B. Both brothers can perform a mixed combo: kick to stun an enemy, turn, and perform a knocking-down uppercut. Billy and Jimmy have an energy bar divided into four segments, and only get one extra life with which to clear the game.
After this compact discussion of the mechanics, let us tackle the sound and vision Facets. The game provides updated graphics with a more complex colour palette, more detailed backgrounds, and cosmetic, Hollywood-influenced changes for basic goons. The Williams goons look like Mel Gibson the Roper like Kurt Russell/Snake Plissken, and the Linda ladies like generic tramps, honestly. Abobos look like either Sly or Ahnold, and the Abore boss is based on its T-800 version. The fact that the game saw its light as a direct upgrade/basic sequel is clear once we look at Stage design. Billy and Jimmy cross four Stages featuring near-identical background themes to the first title (city/Heliport, Industrial suburbs, Countryside, Willy’s hideout). All characters however seem to have more fluid animations, even if slowdown creeps in once there are more than three moving sprites on screen. The game thus looks better, if recycled in design.
The OST changes somewhat in style, though it offers another solid OST by XX. Stage one’s Silent Pursuit is generic arcade fanfare, but Stage two’s Awakening the vengeful oni offers a whiff of 1980s-style dance-pop. Stage three’s Escape to the Forest bland theme leaves space to Stage four’s Enter the enemy’s base brooding theme, aptly fitting the “final battle” atmosphere. The game has distinct boss themes, with the theme for Stage two Abore's theme being notable in its dramatic undertones. Perhaps the most evocative themes are Shadow Fight, the theme for the doppleganger fight, and The Steam tank rolls in, the introductory theme to this fight. Dark and brooding, they underline that this is a twilight fight for revenge, in opposition to the first chapter’s epic final theme. Double Dragon II thus presents itself as a late 1980s game with stronger cinematic references and an oppressive, dark atmosphere. Again, the game is about Jimmy and Billy’s hollow revenge against Willy’s gang.
Let us discuss the game’s difficulty, then. I propose that the game has two Facets adding up to the game’s total difficulty: game mechanics and Stage design/layout, this face mostly limited to Stage four. Game mechanics may result unintuitive to players, but once they learn how to use the A and C buttons, players should easily handle most goons without any problems. The use of the hurricane kick becomes vital during the doppelganger’s fight, so mastering it in time is also important. Be sure to learn combos, as goons are more aggressive and quickly launch attacks if players do not hit them quickly or from an excessive distance. If we define the total 50 points evenly, then the game mechanics attract 5/25 points. The game is more complex than Double Dragon, mechanics-wise, but it is still a relatively simple beat’em up.
The Stage layout/design difficulty originates from two sources. Stage one and two are borderline trivial. Stage three features a “poltergeist harvester” fight during which players must jump when a driver-less harvester machine periodically attempts to mow down characters. Stage four is however a challenge in how it increases in difficulty section by section. First, Jimmy and Billy must fight two Chin Tanmei. Second, they must dodge the attacks of a Ashura statue, and climb down to the hideout’s lower level. Third, the brothers must beat two lavender-coloured Burnov bosses, and then two Abore dealing massive damage. The fight against Willy includes two Chin Tanmei; the doppelganger fight has three phases of increasing difficulty in which the hurricane kick becomes crucial. Stage three and four also force players to kill enemies at speed, otherwise they will time out easily, especially on the long and tense Stage four.
BIL’s post carefully explains all the details, so readers can appreciate how steep the increase in difficulty is, from a perhaps qualitative perspective (Facet). For our squib, I propose that Stage three adds 2/25 points of difficulty, and Stage four adds another 9/25 points, for a total of 11/25 difficulty points. The total difficulty score is 16/50 points, or a middle-tier challenge for intermediate players. The score might appear not so impressive, but readers should keep in mind that the last stage attracts slightly more than half of these points in the duration arc of four minutes. Players will probably “fee” that the game suddenly becomes a challenge, and that the final Stage is a sequence of sudden, possibly brutal increases in difficulty. The doppelganger might exasperate quite a few players, even if it is certainly manageable after some solid practice.
This latter point is the core topic of the final part of the squib, in which I discuss my experiences with the games. Please do not worry: Xenny is watching the cricket and drinking Carlton, already drunk (blargh, Xenny). It is November 1989: my father is playing Prince’s Batman album ad nauseam, and I am learning English by reading his comics by Howard Chaykin (i.e. American Flagg! and Black Kiss). The late 1980s feel like a looping montage-based coda to the decade, in retrospective. In late 1989, though, I see this game in the East room of the top floor of my uncle’s arcade. I am excited to play this game, because it is the sequel to Double Dragon; however, I cannot understand why everybody seems to avoid it like the pest. After all, cabs with the first title still crop up around my hometown.
My 2025 thinks that people who played videogames in arcades were for the most part just throwing away money at random to sheepishly kill boredom, to be brutally honest. I go back through the eyes of my 1990 self, and see people simply not willing to learn how to play Konami’s Aliens or Seta/Taito’s Thundercade. As a kid with motivation to learn, I managed to clear them; other people, they would be happy with a few minutes of aimless play. In 1989, I see two kids my age playing this game, and understand why people are avoiding the game. The kids give up their credit because they simply cannot understand the controls. Perplexed, I ask my uncle if he has the manual, so I can figure out the control myself. He bought the board without receiving one, and thus he is regretting the purchase deeply.
It takes me a few days and around 20 credits to figure out how the controls work: my uncle prepared a cab with the jump button above the attack buttons, so the configuration is actually optimal. After another 20 credits or so, I can use the spin/hurricane/funny-looking kick. Around early December 1989, I can reach the final stage. By this point, I am playing the game during the long winter nights, and I am beginning to feel that the game’s dark atmosphere is unpleasant. The final Stage is also unpleasant, indeed: the fact that each passage of the Stage feels like a new, harder level is driving me nuts. By Christmas time, though, I can manage to reach the final guy and beat him easily, honestly. I never beat the dark shadow, however: the enemy is too hard, and I literally have nightmares with the shadow’s theme oppressing me.
My 2000 self (the MAME gap year) and 2013 self (the Swedish period) 1-CC the game after some prolonged battles. In 2013, however, I decide that I will never play the game again because it summons again very unpleasant memories about my childhood. The 1989 nightmares involved the game’s brooding final theme, but also involved events that I do not wish to write down in this squib, or any other squibs. In 2018 or 2019, however, my Guangzhou self decides that it is high time to 1-LC the game and stop caring about its brooding atmosphere. Luckily, I discover the safe spot for the doppleganger: stay exactly at the centre of the screen, use footwork and hurricane kicks during the “possession” attack, and beat the bastard easily. I close this chapter of my gaming life with a sense of closure but yes, I still feel sorry for Marian.
Let us wrap up, before we drown in tears. Double Dragon is a beat’em up by Technōs, released in 1988 and acting as a sequel to Double Dragon and, indirectly, to Renegage/Nekketsu-kun. Players take again control of Jimmy and Billy Lee and fight again Willy’s gang, but this time to must avenge Marian’s death. Players thus fight for a hollow vengeance through four Stages, with the final Stage four providing a veritable high wall in difficulty. The game nevertheless provides an interesting challenge to players, updated graphics with respect to the original and an interesting if uneven OST. Players who have the patience to endure sharp spikes in difficulty and want to pursue 1-CC’s in the genre may focus on this game for an interesting challenge. As an early beat’em up, Double Dragon II remains an interesting if quirky approach to the genre and an interesting entry to the series.
(2192 words, or 5.5 pages, times new roman, size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; I admit that I never played any other title in the series outside the first two arcade titles and a few credits of the third title. No, wait, I played the excellent Double Dragon Advance via emulation, but I always ignored every other title, really. By the way, China Gate is not bad but simplistic, and V’Ball is infuriating: players do not get enough time to score points and win, full stop. Also yes, I did like Jake Kaufman’s OST for that wannabe remake, but I guarantee that I never even saw a video of the actual game. Technōs were really a bunch of weirdos, judging by their games; no wonder they were an off-shoot of Data East. Final shoot-out: try out The Combattribes and you will see what I mean).
Double Dragon II (Technōs, 1988) is a beat’em up/belt scroller that pits again brothers Billy and Jimmy Lee against Willy and his henchmen. The game is notable for having considerably improved graphics and sound, and a Stage design/layout mostly identical to the first game. The game is also notable for being considerably more difficult than the first chapter and for acting as technical/conceptual sequel to Renegade/Nekketsu kunio-kun, too. Players who found the first chapter too easy should thus enjoy this chapter, if they can get a hang of the controls. Players should also enjoy the game as far as they can appreciate the steep difficulty curve, especially once they enter Willy’s lair. The goal of this squib is to provide arguments to convince players that this title is an interesting 1-CC to include into a gamer’s portfolio, as long as they willing to master the final stage.
A bit of context, if we may. In 1988, beat’em ups were still an embryonal game. Capcom’s Final Fight would appear in 1989, while Taito released Kageki, a banchō-themed vs. fighter, and Kuri Kinton, a Spartan X clone with a remarkably wacky anime-inspired design. In the Sports thread, we briefly discussed how companies were exploring wrestling games of various appeal and style. In 1988, Technōs also released China Gate, a beat’em up/platform hybrid based on Journey to the West, and Championship V’Ball, a veritable quarter-muncher beach volleyball game. We have discussed Technōs’ success in the console arena at length across different threads (e.g. the Super Dodge Ball, Double Dragon threads), thanks to the Kunio-kun franchise. Technōs were pretty much a powerful “minnow company”, in the late 1980s: they released simple but well-crafted games that had a considerable impact and left a notable legacy.
With this point in mind, let us move to the plot of the game, which is remarkably dark though simple. Warning: my summary starts with a spoiler that does not need a hiding tag, for each credit of the game opens with this spoiler. Willy and his gang appear in front of the Lee brothers’ helicopter hangar, and brutally murder Marian, Billy’s girlfriend. The two brothers appear after the murder has been committed, and pursue a quest of vengeance. After four Stages through the city and the countryside, the two brothers enter Willy’s new lair and exterminate his gang. Their final fight is against their own doppelgangers, who seem to incarnate all the hatred and negative feelings that the two brothers have accumulated in this harrowing quest. The game ends with a picture of Marian and the two brothers, on which a character out of camera sheds a tear.
The game’s mechanics move away from the Double Dragon scheme and mostly follow the Renegade/Nekketsu Kunio-kun scheme. The joystick controls movement in eight directions, and permits Billy and Jimmy to climb stairs when present. The A/”left” button controls attacks to the left; the B button jumps; the C/”right” button controls attacks to the right. When the two brothers face left, the A button controls forward/left punches, and the C button controls backward/right kicks. When the two brothers face right, the C button controls forward/right punches, and the A button controls backward/left kicks. Simpler: look right, press C, give punch or press A, give kick; look left, press A, give punch or press C, give kick. Jumping and kicking back slightly lower than top height triggers the “hurricane kick”: characters spin a vertical kick for two full circles, and floor any enemy they hit.
The game has several other returning moves. Billy and Jimmy can jump and kick forward and perform elbow hits (backward attack button+jump). Players can also grab enemies and repeatedly knee them in the face (get next to an enemy, push forward attack) possibly ending the four-hit combo with a throw on the opposite side (push backward attack). A double tap with the joystick performs a Glasgow kiss, of course. Punches have new three-hit combos: left, right punch, then hook. Kick combos can include one or two backward kicks and a second or third roundhouse kick. Weapons include grenades, knives, whips and shovels, which can be thrown by pressing A/C+B. Both brothers can perform a mixed combo: kick to stun an enemy, turn, and perform a knocking-down uppercut. Billy and Jimmy have an energy bar divided into four segments, and only get one extra life with which to clear the game.
After this compact discussion of the mechanics, let us tackle the sound and vision Facets. The game provides updated graphics with a more complex colour palette, more detailed backgrounds, and cosmetic, Hollywood-influenced changes for basic goons. The Williams goons look like Mel Gibson the Roper like Kurt Russell/Snake Plissken, and the Linda ladies like generic tramps, honestly. Abobos look like either Sly or Ahnold, and the Abore boss is based on its T-800 version. The fact that the game saw its light as a direct upgrade/basic sequel is clear once we look at Stage design. Billy and Jimmy cross four Stages featuring near-identical background themes to the first title (city/Heliport, Industrial suburbs, Countryside, Willy’s hideout). All characters however seem to have more fluid animations, even if slowdown creeps in once there are more than three moving sprites on screen. The game thus looks better, if recycled in design.
The OST changes somewhat in style, though it offers another solid OST by XX. Stage one’s Silent Pursuit is generic arcade fanfare, but Stage two’s Awakening the vengeful oni offers a whiff of 1980s-style dance-pop. Stage three’s Escape to the Forest bland theme leaves space to Stage four’s Enter the enemy’s base brooding theme, aptly fitting the “final battle” atmosphere. The game has distinct boss themes, with the theme for Stage two Abore's theme being notable in its dramatic undertones. Perhaps the most evocative themes are Shadow Fight, the theme for the doppleganger fight, and The Steam tank rolls in, the introductory theme to this fight. Dark and brooding, they underline that this is a twilight fight for revenge, in opposition to the first chapter’s epic final theme. Double Dragon II thus presents itself as a late 1980s game with stronger cinematic references and an oppressive, dark atmosphere. Again, the game is about Jimmy and Billy’s hollow revenge against Willy’s gang.
Let us discuss the game’s difficulty, then. I propose that the game has two Facets adding up to the game’s total difficulty: game mechanics and Stage design/layout, this face mostly limited to Stage four. Game mechanics may result unintuitive to players, but once they learn how to use the A and C buttons, players should easily handle most goons without any problems. The use of the hurricane kick becomes vital during the doppelganger’s fight, so mastering it in time is also important. Be sure to learn combos, as goons are more aggressive and quickly launch attacks if players do not hit them quickly or from an excessive distance. If we define the total 50 points evenly, then the game mechanics attract 5/25 points. The game is more complex than Double Dragon, mechanics-wise, but it is still a relatively simple beat’em up.
The Stage layout/design difficulty originates from two sources. Stage one and two are borderline trivial. Stage three features a “poltergeist harvester” fight during which players must jump when a driver-less harvester machine periodically attempts to mow down characters. Stage four is however a challenge in how it increases in difficulty section by section. First, Jimmy and Billy must fight two Chin Tanmei. Second, they must dodge the attacks of a Ashura statue, and climb down to the hideout’s lower level. Third, the brothers must beat two lavender-coloured Burnov bosses, and then two Abore dealing massive damage. The fight against Willy includes two Chin Tanmei; the doppelganger fight has three phases of increasing difficulty in which the hurricane kick becomes crucial. Stage three and four also force players to kill enemies at speed, otherwise they will time out easily, especially on the long and tense Stage four.
BIL’s post carefully explains all the details, so readers can appreciate how steep the increase in difficulty is, from a perhaps qualitative perspective (Facet). For our squib, I propose that Stage three adds 2/25 points of difficulty, and Stage four adds another 9/25 points, for a total of 11/25 difficulty points. The total difficulty score is 16/50 points, or a middle-tier challenge for intermediate players. The score might appear not so impressive, but readers should keep in mind that the last stage attracts slightly more than half of these points in the duration arc of four minutes. Players will probably “fee” that the game suddenly becomes a challenge, and that the final Stage is a sequence of sudden, possibly brutal increases in difficulty. The doppelganger might exasperate quite a few players, even if it is certainly manageable after some solid practice.
This latter point is the core topic of the final part of the squib, in which I discuss my experiences with the games. Please do not worry: Xenny is watching the cricket and drinking Carlton, already drunk (blargh, Xenny). It is November 1989: my father is playing Prince’s Batman album ad nauseam, and I am learning English by reading his comics by Howard Chaykin (i.e. American Flagg! and Black Kiss). The late 1980s feel like a looping montage-based coda to the decade, in retrospective. In late 1989, though, I see this game in the East room of the top floor of my uncle’s arcade. I am excited to play this game, because it is the sequel to Double Dragon; however, I cannot understand why everybody seems to avoid it like the pest. After all, cabs with the first title still crop up around my hometown.
My 2025 thinks that people who played videogames in arcades were for the most part just throwing away money at random to sheepishly kill boredom, to be brutally honest. I go back through the eyes of my 1990 self, and see people simply not willing to learn how to play Konami’s Aliens or Seta/Taito’s Thundercade. As a kid with motivation to learn, I managed to clear them; other people, they would be happy with a few minutes of aimless play. In 1989, I see two kids my age playing this game, and understand why people are avoiding the game. The kids give up their credit because they simply cannot understand the controls. Perplexed, I ask my uncle if he has the manual, so I can figure out the control myself. He bought the board without receiving one, and thus he is regretting the purchase deeply.
It takes me a few days and around 20 credits to figure out how the controls work: my uncle prepared a cab with the jump button above the attack buttons, so the configuration is actually optimal. After another 20 credits or so, I can use the spin/hurricane/funny-looking kick. Around early December 1989, I can reach the final stage. By this point, I am playing the game during the long winter nights, and I am beginning to feel that the game’s dark atmosphere is unpleasant. The final Stage is also unpleasant, indeed: the fact that each passage of the Stage feels like a new, harder level is driving me nuts. By Christmas time, though, I can manage to reach the final guy and beat him easily, honestly. I never beat the dark shadow, however: the enemy is too hard, and I literally have nightmares with the shadow’s theme oppressing me.
My 2000 self (the MAME gap year) and 2013 self (the Swedish period) 1-CC the game after some prolonged battles. In 2013, however, I decide that I will never play the game again because it summons again very unpleasant memories about my childhood. The 1989 nightmares involved the game’s brooding final theme, but also involved events that I do not wish to write down in this squib, or any other squibs. In 2018 or 2019, however, my Guangzhou self decides that it is high time to 1-LC the game and stop caring about its brooding atmosphere. Luckily, I discover the safe spot for the doppleganger: stay exactly at the centre of the screen, use footwork and hurricane kicks during the “possession” attack, and beat the bastard easily. I close this chapter of my gaming life with a sense of closure but yes, I still feel sorry for Marian.
Let us wrap up, before we drown in tears. Double Dragon is a beat’em up by Technōs, released in 1988 and acting as a sequel to Double Dragon and, indirectly, to Renegage/Nekketsu-kun. Players take again control of Jimmy and Billy Lee and fight again Willy’s gang, but this time to must avenge Marian’s death. Players thus fight for a hollow vengeance through four Stages, with the final Stage four providing a veritable high wall in difficulty. The game nevertheless provides an interesting challenge to players, updated graphics with respect to the original and an interesting if uneven OST. Players who have the patience to endure sharp spikes in difficulty and want to pursue 1-CC’s in the genre may focus on this game for an interesting challenge. As an early beat’em up, Double Dragon II remains an interesting if quirky approach to the genre and an interesting entry to the series.
(2192 words, or 5.5 pages, times new roman, size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; I admit that I never played any other title in the series outside the first two arcade titles and a few credits of the third title. No, wait, I played the excellent Double Dragon Advance via emulation, but I always ignored every other title, really. By the way, China Gate is not bad but simplistic, and V’Ball is infuriating: players do not get enough time to score points and win, full stop. Also yes, I did like Jake Kaufman’s OST for that wannabe remake, but I guarantee that I never even saw a video of the actual game. Technōs were really a bunch of weirdos, judging by their games; no wonder they were an off-shoot of Data East. Final shoot-out: try out The Combattribes and you will see what I mean).
"The only desire the Culture could not satisfy from within itself was one common to both the descendants of its original human stock and the machines [...]: the urge not to feel useless."
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).
I.M. Banks, "Consider Phlebas" (1988: 43).