RRR: Index of squibs

[Randorama]

Absolutely. I re-read the series a few years ago and it felt like Chaykin was writing this while travelling back and forth through time, or something. Ironically, though, the Mall has become a central concept in a certain type of "Western-style society", but online shopping has inexorably eroded this centrality. Anyway, I am relatively sure that someone wrote a book or a quite detailed chapter in a book about Chaykin's amazingly accurate "vision of the future". I will sooner or later find the reference, promised

Personally, I also somehow believe that Data East creators had some access to the series, as some of their 1990s games have ideas reminiscent of AF! (Nitro Ball above else). I will squib about these topics in the future, so stay tuned and spread the love

[it290]

I'd say Nitro Ball takes its cues more from the likes of Rollerball and The Running Man, no? Unless you're thinking about something specific...

[Randorama]

Well, Rollerball is about a dystopian future in which the sport is sort of a placebo for wars, and one top player decides to go against the system. The Running Man is about a future US dictatorship (or something like that?), with the show as a means to control the masses. Dystopian? Well, of course.

Nitro Ball, on the other hand, features a TV show in which an ex-cop (player 1?) and an ex-Navy Seal (player 2?) have to kill/dunk goons and collect as many items for money as they can. The game's atmosphere is deeply humorous and hedonistic, down to the brilliant OST, and the endings for both players are definitely positive (hint: they get the money and something else ). I remember that AF! has a similar show, in-universe, that has the same "we're in for the money and the funny ultra-violence, and now please smile for the camera!" tone. Dystopian? AF! probably, but with a laugh. Nitro Ball...well, not if you 1-CC it

This Sunday we are going to discuss a classic shmup, however, so we will leave the ironic commentary on hold for a bit. I need to reshuffle plans a bit, but hopefully I can release Nitro Ball by the year. Aside the pinball-free scrolling shmup hybrid form, it features lots of scoring opportunities and the extend/suicide mechanic as a rank/score control mechanism. But all in due time, of course

[Randorama]

In this squib we discuss a venerable standard of the shmup genre, Flying Shark. The game’s immense popularity entails that there have been dozens of ports across the decades (see the discussion in the wiki). The M2 “Shot Rigger” ports represent modern faithful renditions of the game on PS4 and Nintendo Switch, however. The game is notable for being a subtle but pervasive seminal influence in the genre, along with other fellow Toaplan shmups. Tsuneki Ikeda from Cave, among many other videogame designers, grew up playing this title and Slap Fight, for instance. The game comes into various revisions and regional versions (e.g. Hishou Zame is the game’s name for the J(a)P(an) version), which differ in various minor details. We have various threads and a classic review here, so my squib aims to be concise. Let us make haste with the squib, to discuss all these details:

Flying Shark (Toaplan, 1987, with Taito handling the distribution) is a (ro)TATE shmup that pits Rudo Schneider and its blue biplane against a veritable legion of enemy planes and tanks. The game is notable for being one of the first shmups introducing a “bomb” attack and for having a great OST. More controversially, it is also notable for introducing the complex type of enemy positioning and Stage design that evolved into the modern ”Bullet Hell” genre. This latter aspect of Facet hinges on the fact that Stages become “busy” with enemies and bullets early on, and once players loop the game, careful positioning strategies become indispensable. The goal of this squib is to provide players with evidence supporting this claim. The goal of this squib is also to convince players that 1-CC’ing the game (well, at least a loop) is a perhaps a central achievement for any fan of the genre.

Summarising 1987 for the arcade scene and Toaplan’s early years in a single paragraph would be almost “hobbyist malpractice”, I know. Throughout this and further Toaplan-dedicated squibs, I will attempt to sketch a minimal context nevertheless. Toaplan was an intriguing little company that, in the memories of Masahiro Yuge, had a “wild party” atmosphere and some unhealthy work practices. Arising from the ashes of Orca, Toaplan produced simple platformers/puzzle games like Performan on hardware allowing modest audio-visual presentations. Pilferers and innovators in equal parts, Toaplan programmers were smart designers with powerful ideas who established themselves with shmups such as Slap Fight in 1986, Kyukyoku Tiger/Twin Cobra and Flying Shark in 1987, and Truxton/Tatsujin in 1988. Toaplan shmups looked modest, but presented players with remarkably creative design ideas and a feeling of smooth, fast-paced action that could almost match contemporary legends like Taito’s Darius, Irem’s R-Type and Konami’s Gradius II.

Before we turn to the finer Facets involving game mechanics, a brief mention of the plot will help us in framing its minimal world setting. The story pits an unnamed fighter, nicknamed the “Flying Shark” or “Sky Shark” depending on the game’s version, against the enemy forces in an undefined Pacific Ocean war theatre. Our hero must fly behind enemy lines and rescue fellow pilots and prisoners of wars. It is a though mission, but somebody must do it and obviously our hero is the best choice. Readers may wonder why these forces fight with biplanes in WWII, or why and how a single biplane may rescue these aforementioned prisoners. These are details to simply set up a cool battle with biplanes in the Pacific, really. The identity of the “Flying Shark” as Romu Schneider originates in Batsugun!’s, Toaplan final game, which suggests that this story takes place in an alternate version of Earth.

Let us now discuss the minimalist game mechanics. Players control Rudo’s biplane in eight directions with the joystick. The A button shoots two central shots, and can upgrade to 12 relatively wide shots after collecting five “S” power-ups, obtained by shooting down formations of six to eight red planes. The B button controls the bomb attack. When pressed, a bomb briefly travels forward from the plane position, and then detonate in a spiralling explosion that cancels bullets and damages/destroys enemies in its range. Collect “B(omb)” icons from destroyed tanks; each bomb in stock is worth 3k points as an End-of-Stage bonus. The bomb stock replenishes at three bombs, if players have less units after clearing a Stage. Shoot down yellow and silver biplane formations to collect 1000 extra points and one extra life, respectively. Players start with two lives and extend at 50k plus every 150k points, in most versions.

The audio-visual presentation is also minimal, though far from basic. The game is set in the Pacific theatre of WWII, and thus features luscious jungle backgrounds, battles over azure seas. Assaults to military bases involving steel grey buildings, brownish grounds and other colour from a simple, realistic palette. Enemy tanks and biplanes come in a few colour combinations but are well-animated and realistically designed. Bosses have massive sprites: the bombardier from Stage five occupies most of the screen, and the battleship from Stage three is several screens long. Mid-size enemies are also bulky and aggressive, and enemy formations often offer a choreographic if threatening feeling about their positioning. Toaplan designers did not have powerful hardware at their disposal. However, had a firm grasp on how to convey the feeling of a single man against an army comparable to other classics of the time (e.g. Seta/Taito’s Thundercade, Capcom’s 1943).

Masahiro Yuge’OST offers a strong argument for Toaplan’s designers being gifted with sheer ingeniousness in the face of modest hardware. Yuge infused the OST with his love for Progressive Rock and especially British band Yes, though it definitely could access basic synthetisers and software to create this music. Stage one’s Asia opens the game with a medium paced, relatively dramatic theme; Stage two’s Against the Attack moves to a more upbeat tempo for some ocean-based action. Stage three’s Water Front switches to a dramatic riff, and Stage four’s Behind the Bush leads with an almost hard rock-styled anthem. It is Stage five’s Last Fighter exhilaratingly dramatic theme that plays the closest to Yes’s classic works, with its notes perhaps echoing South Side of the Sky from The Fragile. Sound effects are almost 8-bit console-like in simplicity, but the OST is a synthetized prog rock-like cavalcade framing Rudo’s fight with epic and dramatic flair.

Now that we have a framework for the aesthetics Facets, we can discuss the game’s difficulty. I propose that the difficulty in this game comes from game mechanics and Stage design/layout, which in turn corresponds to Enemy wave/formations and their layout. First, players must master use of the main shot: even at maximum power, it covers roughly half of the screen. The numbers of shot waves on screen have a limit, so players should also learn to point-blank enemies to increase shooting frequency. Certainly, use of auto-fire options across ports can help players to overcome that lingering subjective feeling that firepower is sometimes insufficient. However, players who aim to play the game in its arcade form need to master this ability. Therefore, they need to learn to dispose of larger enemies and bosses in a brutal, aggressive and efficient manner, while also learning to dodge quick attacks with precision.

Second, bombs require some practice for players to use them as secondary weapons, their intended function. Bombs do not denotate immediately, but must undergo half a second of so of “dropping animation” (with matching sound effect). Once they hit the surface, they create a spiralling whirlwind of fire that cancel bullets and damages enemies and last around 1.5 seconds. The radius of the explosion is roughly half of the horizontal axis, a fact entailing that bombs do not cover the entire screen, on the vertical axis. Thus, bombs can be a good defensive measure against sniper enemies on the horizontal axis or attacks from behind the plane/the bottom of the screen. If enemies are shooting from the top side of the screen, they might even be useless due to their limited reach. Their use must thus be tactical, as “panic bombing” may often result in untimely deaths.

If we divide the total 50 points into two halves of 25 points, then the game mechanics motivate a 3/25 difficulty score. Players should potentially master these Facets with little effort and a clear understanding of their basic principles. While game mechanics may be an easy obstacle to overcome, enemy/Stage layout/formations provide the main source of difficulty in the game. Two sub-Facets provide the key sources of difficult, within this sub-Facet. First, enemies mostly aim in eight directions, but also aim their shots by using simple “baiting” strategies. A formation of biplanes can enter the screen and aim their single shots at Rudo’s biplane, forcing players to move in e.g. the up-right direction. Sniper tanks may then appear and shoot at the biplane’s expected position, taking the plane down. This strategy, in combination with a sapient positioning of enemies, forces players to memorise enemies’ placement and potential trap attacks.

Second, Stage layout provides a “macro-source” of difficulty, building atop of enemies’ formations “micro-source”. The game has five Stages, and loops indefinitely though the score should max out at 9999990 points; loops start from Stage two, however. Each Stage is divided into “areas”, i.e. mini-sections that establish the spawning points after death. Each area acts as a mini-puzzle or maze in which players must understand what is the best order(s) of enemy formations to destroy, for survival purposes. Biplanes, tanks and small ships shoot fast, aimed flashing bullets; bigger planes shoot pattern-based bullets (e.g. three-way shots); bosses use bulkier attacks of various types. Players thus can focus on solving each area as a mini-maze, then “connect” this solution to the next area, and so on. This approach is virtually necessary for survival purposes, also because players must learn how to survive after death when entering each re-spawning point.

Overall, players should develop general strategies involving carefully timed movements to dodge bullets and destroy enemies as soon as possible. For Stages and areas, players can develop specific tactics such as the tactical use of bombs upon respawning or to shorten boss fights. Combining these pieces together leads to a veritable resolution of the “maze game” underpinning Flying Shark. I thus propose, for simplicity, that each Stage is worth three points of difficulty: one for the Stage itself, one to learn its harder respawn points/areas, and one for the Bosses. At 15/25 difficulty points, this Facet offers a considerable challenge for all players. The total thus becomes 18/50 points, close to the Shmup difficulty Wiki score. Add two points per loop, as enemies become more aggressive and have more H(it)P(oint)s. Flying Shark is a top-tier challenge for intermediate players, but multiple loops can reach grandmaster (i.e. 40+ points) difficulty levels.

Let us wrap up this squib with my experiences of the game, thus. Xenny? He’s gone to a The Presets concert; we are quite safe (or: do not try to hide, dear reader). It is 1990, though I do not remember exactly when: my memories regarding this game are hazy, and I only recall that my uncle never had a board of this game. I probably played this title while visiting the big arcade that had the dedicated cabs and City Connection in their big underground room. Other details are definitely hazy, and I perhaps I only played this game when I started junior high school. I have this memory of my father playing Twin Cobra to my side, while playing this title. The arcade had the classic Toaplan games lined up in the South-East corner of their big room: playing these titles meant braving darkness and smell of mould.

The first credit I play of this game is almost embarrassing. Even by 1990 standards, I find the game really ugly, simply put. I also struggle to follow the trajectories of the bullets, due to their weird flashing animation. Sound effects are primitive, and the way the game uses the bomb is annoying. My golden standard on this mechanic is Thundercade, so any bomb that has a delay in detonation is useless: my poor gaming skills demand a crutch, not a secondary weapon. I believe that I barely make it to the first boss, failing at its three-way shot. I see from the high score table that the game does mark the stage but something called “areas”. I wonder what they are, honestly. I did not see any signs that I was entering different areas when playing, but “reaching area 21” sounds better than “losing against the first boss”.

Over an indefinite period of six months or so, perhaps more, I visit this arcade with a certain regularity and I become more and more attracted by Toaplan’s modest-looking games. There is also something about the music in these games that I find hypnotic. Music sounds quirky, as if they were playing sounds from some home console like the Famicom, but backwards or under heavy distortion. My 2025 definitely remembers that my 1990 has no idea on the sources that inspired Masahiro Yuge, but also that, in the long distance, the 1990 began to like these chiptunes quite a lot indeed. It is however 1990, and I definitely feel that playing spara-tutto (literally, ‘shoot-all’ in Italian) games from Toaplan feels like appreciating second-rate movies or comics with flashes of brilliance. Still, there is something about their artisanal passion exuding from their games that charms me to no end.

Over this period of six months or so, though, I definitely get better at these games and I definitely begin to appreciate these people’s ideas about game design. My progress in Flying Shark is a slow, almost painful but always resolute journey through the areas of this title. Stage four is though, and the fact that I must beat the two armoured train bosses during the Stage is a veritable ordeal. I progress one area every few credits, and possibly one Stage per month; but I progress, and I manage to connect the areas of the puzzle, sooner or later. I do not remember what month or day, or season is, but I do remember that the first time I hear Last Fighter, I am transfixed. It is one of those “eternal” moments in which the mind knows that it is going to remember the event forever, indeed.

The few opening notes turn me into intellectual dust and rebuild me anew in a few seconds: all of a sudden, I can perfectly understand that the designers want Stage five to be epic, intense, viscerally difficult. How could it be otherwise? The song is mesmerising, and the enemy formations are suddenly massive, shoot more, and literally swamp the screen. Enemies crop from everywhere, and mid-way through the Stage two of the battleships from Stage three re-appear, baying for my blood. I believe that my 1987, 1988…selves like sparatutto because they seem to offer some compact metaphor of life: sometimes one lone fighter takes the fight against legions, and the one has no choice but to win or turn into dust. My 1990 self does not know the name of this song, but my 2025 self knows that Last Fighter is the name that epitomises shmups’ music as a genre.

After two months of botched tries, I can finally reach the behemoth plane at the end of Stage five. It takes me another three weeks or so to learn its attack, and then another week of practice to clear the final area before the end of the Stage. Clear! But then I discover that the bloody game starts again, and from Stage two, even. I keep playing the game for a while longer, and end up clearing the second loop. I subsequently move to other games, and do not play Flying Shark until my MAME gap year in 2000. I spend a few weeks practicing the game until I can clear four, five loops and get bored after all those loops. I play the game as years pass: my 2012, 2014, 2018…selves like having the pioneering feeling of the game. As a foundation of “the maze”, Flying Shark is unrivalled.

It is time to summarise, before I lose myself in vague statements. Flying Shark is a (ro)TATE shmup pitting Rudo Shneider as the “Flying Shark”, a lonesome biplane fighter against hordes of enemies on a mission to rescue prisoners of war. The game offers modest but well-designed graphics, a great OST and an early approach to the genre that features complex, maze-like handling of enemy formations, fast bullets, and massive bosses. The game also offers a moderate but solid challenge for players who want to clear at least one loop, and ever-increasing challenges for players who pursue multiple-loop clears. The game represents a core chapter of the genre, together with other Toaplan games and has shaped entire generations of successors (e.g. Raiden and its ilk, but also Cave games). As a synchronous lesson of history and a great shmup, any proper shmup player should play it and enjoy it to its completion.

(2691 words, or 6.8 pages, times new roman, size 12, single space; the usual disclaimers apply; I only played the game sporadically, after that period; however, I have always had a version of Last Fighter with me, be it on a mixtape, MP3 player or PC. I believe that a friend of mine once commented that Last Fighter sounds like somebody played an “8-bit mellotron” while recording it, which sounds like a rather hilarious description of its signature sound. I also believe that this friend of mine once forced me to play this song and a few other “absolute resolve” themes while we were preparing for exams, during our BA days. We probably ended up playing this, Red Thunder from Surprise Attack and Assault Theme from Metal Slug until our ears were bleeding. The exams begged us for mercy, after all that hellish preparin’!)

[Randorama]

Some plans, for those who care. Nevermind the theoretically oriented squibs, the titles I planned for 2025 are the ones below. Readers can place requests, and I will write them with release slated the Sunday after the request. Otherwise, I may just proceed according to a semi-random schedule I have prepared, and I plan on following...unless my mood changes abruptly, and/or "real life" hits me at full speed and crushes me down mercilessly (not unlikely: my life is complicated).

EDIT:

These are the plans for the remainder for 2025, but other requests may be welcome: I plan on continuing this journey for a while longer. Ask away and I can check if I have any memories to share with my readers.

SHMUPS:

• 
  Phelios
• Darius II
• Omega Fighter
• Armoured Scrum Object
• Slap Fight
• Darius
• Cannon Spike
• EspRaDe
• Guwange
• DonPachi
• Nitro Ball

R2RKMF:

• Rastan
• Rainbow Islands
• Galivan
• Shinobi
• Contra
• Elevator Action Returns
• Robocop 2
• King of the Dragons
• Bucky O’Hare
• Midnight Wanderers

BEAT'EM UPs:

• Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
• Captain Commando
• Warriors of Fate
• Night Slashers

PLATFORM/PUZZLE GAMES:

• Mr. Driller
• Mr. Driller Great
• Super Burger Time

SPORTS:

Super Dodge Ball (The Neo Geo title, which would also be the last Technos title and the last sports game I may squib about for a while).

[Randorama]

In this squib we discuss Rastan/Rastan Saga, the first game in Taito’s trilogy inspired by Robert E. Howard’s Conan stories. This game has been a background presence in our squibs since the inception of the series: we started our multi-faceted journey with Warrior Blade/Rastan Saga III. The game’s success in 1987 meant that there are ports on a dozen systems or so (cf. the wiki information). The Taito Memories on PS2 offered a novel introduction to the game, even if the Arcade Archives novel port for PS4/PS5 and Switch is the newest and most accessible port. We will not discuss Nastar/Rastan Saga II, also on Arcade Archives, as my memories of this probably controversial game are too foggy. Please enjoy the second title’s OST (here), by Zuntata’s legend OGR/Hisayoshi Ogura: it is sublime, and so is Rastan. Here is an argument of why this is case:

Rastan/Rastan Saga (Taito, 1987) is an R2RKMF/platform game of the Hack’n Slash variety. The protagonist is Rastan, a textbook Captain Ersatz character that presents Taito’s take on the Conan milieu. The game features Rastan the barbarian aiming to kill the brutal Dragon ravaging the lands of Ceim, and therefore also slaying the vast hordes of creatures supporting the Dragon’s reign of terror. If successful, Rastan will however collect a hefty fee, as altruism and heroism are not this barbarian’s core virtues. The game is notable for its simple but fast-paced gameplay, the mix of action and platforming elements, quick boss battles and a deeply atmospheric OST. The game may feel repetitive by modern standards; it however provides a very gradual challenge and an immersive, variegated game world. The goal of this squib is to convince readers that they should 1-CC this game and immerse themselves in its “aggressive world”.

A bit of context will help us understanding the socio-historical contribution of this game, as always. (Mostly) anglophonic Heroic Fantasy stories reached Japan by the 1970s and early 1980s, often with illustrations from mangakas who took ample inspiration from these stories (e.g. Leiji Matsumoto). Conan stories apparently arrived in 1971, and developed a cult following over the decades. In 1985, Dungeons and Dragons became a sensation, thanks also to the popularity of the Record of Lodoss AAR (“After (the) Action Report”) stories. Arcade videogames were also absorbing this source of inspiration in droves. Namco’s Dragon Burster and Return of Ishtar are but one two titles we have mentioned in the past, and Capcom’s Black Tiger is the other arcade classic chiselling this genre’s relevance in 1980s’ arcade scene. Taito programmers thus decided to pilfer on Howard’s classic stories as a way to pay homage to their beloved “Barbarian” character.

The game’s plot and world setting only receive their proper presentation in the J(a)P(anese) versions. In the attract screen, an aged but still massive King Conan/Rastan narrates to players that the game presents but one of his many adventures when he was even a thief and pirate, just to survive. The opening sequence presents a walking Rastan explaining that he will slay the dragon and the armies ravaging Ceim. Rastan is no hero, but a mercenary: he agreed with the kingdom’s princess that he will keep this army’s vast riches as a payment. Under a steel cloudscape brewing a storm, he unsheathes his sword and starts his fight. Rastan crosses six different regions of the kingdom (i.e. Stages) and slays all the army’s general and the giant Dragon. Through mountains, swamps, Vulcanic ranges, and other dramatic landscapes, he rids the lands from humans’ enemies, ending up with a massive loot.

The game’s other versions (i.e. World and US(A)) lack this background information, possibly due to copyright issues. Each version also has three revisions, but these play a role in our discussion of the game’s difficulty. Before we can tackle this topic, we must first offer an overview of the game’s mechanics. Rastan can move in eight directions via the joystick, with the B button controlling jumps. The A button controls Rastan’s weapon swings, which cover roughly a sprite’s length when Rastan carries the default two-handed sword. Rastan swings in the direction of movement, but can swing the weapon upwards (up+A button) or downwards (B button to jump, then down+hold A). Rastan can also jump and swing the sword (B+A buttons), and can perform high jumps (up, up-left, up-right+B) and swings (A button) dealing two H(it)P(points). Rastan can jump off and on fixed and swinging ropes and moving platforms, as well.

The game offers a vast selection of enemies, from demi-humans (e.g. humanoid lizards) to giant bees, amazons and bats. The game also offers a vast array of power-ups, the full list appearing in the attract screen of the JP version. For instance, Rastan can pick up three different weapons (double-damaging poleaxe, longer-ranged halberd, fireball-throwing “fire sword”) and three types of increasingly more powerful armours (shield, mantle, armature). Be fast: all power-ups only last 30 seconds. Rastan has 128 HPs per life, and two lives in stock at the beginning of each credit; extends are at 100k and 200k points, and then every 200k points. Players can kill enemies within half a second or so, to perform item-awarding chains. RNG item drops can also include bonus point gems (1k, blue; 2k, golden, 3k, amber). Blue potions award extra HPs, red potions remove HPs but award 20k points: they are good gambits.

The game thus provides simple but swift and fast-paced action-oriented mechanics that also reward players with higher scores and extra lives, if they clear Stages at a brisk pace. Before we discuss the challenges that this game design philosophy provides to players, though, we should explore the audio-visual presentation in detail. Rastan’s visual presentation is highly detailed for a 1987 title: the game features relatively big sprites, rugged and brutal landscapes, and chromatic palettes that come in intense shades. Stage one is highly representative. Rastan crosses a mountainous, rugged region peppered with giant statues paying homage to Lord of the Rings lore, during a sunset bleeding crimson and orange shades over cloudy blue skies. Final Stage six returns to mountainous ranges with floating rocks and a storm with booming and cracking lightnings and thunders in the background. External sections look harsh and brutal, much like Conan’s primordial Cimmeria motherland.

The “external” world sections offer an apt counterpoint to the internal settings, the castles and caverns in which the leaders of the Dragon army dwell. In Stage one to four, Rastan invades four castles full of traps and bizarre humanoid creatures. In Stages five and six, Rastan slays enemies through the caves in which the wivern general (Stage five) and the Dragon general (Stage six) have stashed their treasures. These sections seem to recycle backgrounds from the first Darius title and its ”Submerged cave” stages, but provide a higher resolution and a more dramatic feeling. Rastan, after all, traverses them on foot rather than on a Silver Hawk. Furthermore, all sprites are rich in detail and relatively well-animated. Overall, the world that Rastan inhabits looks brutal, visceral in its hues and colours, and rugged: it thus offers a perfect visual presentation for Rastan’s quest for richness and glory.

The OST by MAR (Masahiko Takaki, also of Zuntata Fame) only includes a few themes, but most players will probably remember them due to their evocative style. External sections feature Aggressive World, a fast-paced theme evoking the atmospheres and styles of 1980s fantasy movies (e.g. the Schwarznegger’s Conan movies). Internal switch to slow-paced, brooding and dramatic Re-In-Carnation which concludes with a fast, epic crescendo presaging the boss battles concluding each stage. The Devil Boss Carnival theme is a fast-paced, short drum beat with a “tribal” flavour: slay bosses quickly, while drums pound furiously. The game has a few other short themes for the opening, continue and high score screens; these three themes, however, accompany the players’ journeys with their intense atmosphere. Though perhaps a bit repetitive like the game’s Stage design, they shape an aural landscape that is as intense and immersive as the visual landscape of the game world.

Rastan also offers rich plate of clanging sound effects, grunts and screams from Rastan, very crisp and unique sound effects for weapons, environmental effects and cleaved body parts. The sword features a simple, swinging sound effect: the poleaxe looks and sounds like a heavier weapon, and the fire sword produces an explosion after each fireball. Water bodies (rivers, pounds, falls) have their specific flowing sounds, and the many fire and lava lakes across Stages crackle richly. Each time Rastan kills an enemy, the enemy seemingly explodes and releases a splash of blood. The quirky sound effect accompanying each death should become easily recognisable to every player going through a few credits in the game. Add the fact that, at factory settings, Rastan can probably be loudest game in the (arcade) room. Rastan presents players an aggressive world with an equally aggressive aesthetic presentation, perfectly evoking the feeling of “Barbarian action”.

Let us now talk about difficulty, using Facets as our conceptual tool (cf. the Warrior Blade/Rastan Saga III squib again). Three Facets shape difficulty in this game: game mechanics, Stage design/layout, and Rank. Game mechanics require some practice for the mastery of the various command attacks and the landing of jumping swings and their 2HP damage. Neither basic attacks nor jump types require particular mastery, but Stage design is such that players will need to master certain platform-based Facets. Game mechanics, however, motivate a 3/20 difficulty points: easy to master, and not the most central Facet defining difficulty. Rank is easy to master, too: enemies become faster and more aggressive as survival time and extra lives in stock increase. At one or two lives left, enemies become less aggressive and relatively slower. At a low 2/5 difficulty points, it is the minor Facet of the trio.

Stage design/layout is the second and central Facet, in my view. Rastan stages have a first part that takes place in some rugged environment. After roughly 90 seconds of violent mountainous action, Rastan invades a castle/cavern and kills enemies while avoiding traps and jumps across platform-like obstacles, for 60 seconds or so. Be sure to learn the timings for jumps involving moving rafts, floating rock pillars and swinging ropes. Boss battles are short and brutal, and revolve around learning how to land quick series of jump attacks in succession while avoiding the bosses’ attacks. Once Rastan lands from 12 HPs (the first boss) to 16 HPs (the final boss Dragon), the boss battles are over, usually lasting no more than 30 seconds. Players cannot continue on the last Stage, but if they score decently, they can easily rack up four extra lives and afford losing one life per Stage.

Stage one offers only a few key passages of challenges, so it is one worth one difficulty point. First and second section of Stages two to six require some practice; they are thus worth one point per section. Bosses share a common approach in six small variants; do not face the bosses directly, but turn suddenly while performing a jump attack and retreat immediately, to prepare another attack. With practice, players can notice that mastering this one technique is not so difficult. Stage layout/design thus motivates 12/25 difficulty points: the game’s difficulty mostly hinges on learning how to handle the various recurring platform passages, after all. At 3+12+2=17/50 difficulty points, Rastan is a top-tier difficulty game for intermediate players, and a slightly repetitive but entertaining challenge. The “earlier code” revisions do not appear harder, but the “rev 1” versions have more aggressive enemies, and reach a 19/50 total difficulty.

Let us move to the fans’ favourite section: my experiences with the game. Xenny would have probably ripped off my head with unmitigated brutality, but the xenomorph lad is currently busy with a secret project, apparently. Secret, maybe so, but if xe/xen keeps forgetting xis/xen lines (“xis”? “xen”? ah, pronouns), production will have no trouble firing xim/xen/whatever. I digress: let us move forward with experiences, indeed. It is…I do not recall exactly, anymore, but I would guess Spring, 1988. I have been frequenting my uncle’s arcade for a few months and I am still learning the ropes of arcade games. Oftentimes, a general problem is that I still need a stool to reach the controls. As a kid, I also struggle to figure out what I am supposed to do, when playing games. I remember Thundercade and Black Tiger being my early obsessions in this period, but not much else.

From time to time, when attempting to learn these games and a few other titles I cannot recall, I am keenly aware that some other game is remarkably loud. I hear an intense though not distinct song in the background, reverberating in the arcade. Accompanying sound effects sound strange, and sometimes the screams of a…dying man? Drowning man? Interrupt the song. I understand that there is one game that my uncle may have set at a ridiculously high volume. When people play it, everybody knows it and everybody seems to know if the player is good at it or not. The fewer dying screams, the longer the player lasts on the game. After a few weeks or so, I end up asking my uncle what game is that noisy. He tells me to check the cab near the bathroom on the East side of the lower floor.

It is late April or early May 1988, probably, and the last snow is finally melting. I discover Rastan when no one other than my father is playing the game and progressing quite far in it. My father is almost puzzled to see me, as he thought that I did not like this game. I am getting nowhere in Wonder Boy in Monster Land, so he thought that I was already more interested in older-looking titles. My 1988 self acknowledges that the game looks glorious, gory and intense, almost to the point of looking like a horror movie. I am a bit wary in trying it out, indeed: even the basic enemies look vaguely scary. It is 1990 and my 1990 self is playing Nastar/Rastan Saga II and thinking that this game is downright ugly but has amazing music. I have no idea on how Taito approved its release.

In 1988, however, my 1988 self tries one credit under the guidance of my 1988 father self. His instructions are demanding but precise. Some are “get close to the enemy and swing as soon as you can hit”, “jump and then push down plus attack”, “venom gives you lots of points: always take it”. To an extent, he is more coaching me on how to play the game methodically, then to simply explain the basic bits. He is good at it, too; so, when I act the spectator and watch his runs, I can learn from observation and analysis. He tells me what he does to overcome sections, and asks questions to see if I understand his comments. Rastan is an aggressive game with an aggressive world and game system; my father never shies away from reminding me that I need to use brains to win over the obstacles.

It is 1993 and somebody at the RPG/comics/et cetera club suggests me to read Howard’s stories featuring Conan, after I mention that I played Rastan a few years before. I devour the stories quickly, realising that Taito pilfered Conan’s atmosphere and milieu heavily in their two games. It is 2001 or so, and I discover Warrior Blade in MAME, thus realising that Taito created a trilogy that however never came to full fruition of us “Westerners”. In late September 1988, however, I am still playing Rastan with my father’s guidance. My father has cleared the game already, but he is trying to get scores over the 1 M mark. I am really close to clearing the game, but I keep stumble on the final boss. I am usually too nervous when I reach it, and it does not help that I normally reach it on my last life.

September 1988, my birthday and the first anniversary of the accident in which I lost my family. My “new” father is about to insert a coin but decides instead to let me have my first attempt of the day. My 1988 self has its head heavy with memories and thoughts and preoccupations; yet, somehow, my performance is smooth and almost devoid of tension. Today is the right day, my 1988 self thinks, because I am absent-minded enough not to care about reaching the clear at all costs. I lose two lives when fighting the dragon, and then become mildly annoyed at myself. I know how to kill this bastard, and in five-six seconds within my third attempt I get rid of him. My father says nothing except for a “astounding, young champion”. I listen in silence to the ending theme, my father translating the story for me.

It is 2000 and my 2000 self re-discovers this title during his MAME gap year. I do not recall when the other versions of the game have been added to MAME, but either during this period or at later times, I 1-CC all of them. In 2006 I finally sit down and learn Nastar/Rastan Saga II, thus 1-CC’ing it out of sense of duty for the trilogy. The story about Warrior Blade/Rastan Saga III, you know it already. Now that I am older but still not a king of my own country, I play a credit of the good old Rastan every once in a while. When I need motivation, I do listen to Aggressive World as well; it is perfect for practicing open air calisthenics. I have never become a fantasy fan; except for Conan, Rastan and a few other anti-heroes, but I do cherish these “barbaric” 1980s memories.

Let us wrap up, before we drown in sap. Rastan/Rastan Saga is a hack’n slash/R2RKMF game with platform elements in which Rastan the barbarian slaughters hordes of enemies and steals their loot, while also saving Ceim. The game is notable for its vibrant graphics, rugged and evocative world settings and its fast-paced, intuitive game mechanics. The game also features a somewhat famous OST, with Aggressive World probably being a fans’ favourite of anyone who played the game back in the 1980s. The game provides a solid but fairly approachable challenge to any player who wants to 1-CC it, and offers some interesting options for those pursuing high scores. It is also one of the foundational games that led the emergence of High/Heroic Fantasy as a popular setting in arcade videogames. Be sure to try it and maybe even 1-CC it, as it is a genuine classic of arcade gaming.

(2978 words, or 7.5 pages in times new roman, size 12, single space format’; the usual disclaimers apply. I actually admit that the first few times I heard Rastan’s death cries, I was imagining that the game’s cab was huge, much like the original Darius cab. Yes, my uncle bought a Darius cab and the game was also very popular, but that is another squib. Regarding Rastan, I really suggest my readers to read the wiki and discover all the other Taito games in which this barbarian lad crops up. You might have noted that I mention Nastar/Rastan Saga II quite often in this squib. Let us just say that it is my way to pay homage to a game I wanted to like more, as part of the trilogy. Personally, I wish that Taito could have found more success with this series and would have created a successful franchise….)

[it290]

Any more comments on the version differences? The main thing that I notice is that in the later revs of the game the bats in the dungeon stages are far more aggressive and very difficult to fully avoid.

[Randorama]

My understanding is that the "rev 1" versions fix a bug that in earlier versions ("earlier code", normal revisions) may cause the game to crash/freeze on Stage five. I do remember that as a kid that I saw a version of Rastan freezing and/or rebooting on Stage five, but if players would perform a certain action midway in the external section. I simply do not recall the exact action, honestly, but you may want to test this via emulation. Some discussion is in this thread from the "Arcade Projects" forum.

I believe that the "US" and "World" versions also have less time for clearing Stage one and two, so at some point during the castle/cave sections eight bats will suddenly appear and try to hit you. In the Rastan Saga version(s), Stages one and two should give you enough time to avoid this problem. If players time out a Stage, though, only two bats should appear, but from Stage three onwards it seems hard to time out.

My own experience with the game is also that the "rev 1" revisions are a bit harder: enemies are faster and more aggressive. I also believe that item drops are a bit stricter, but this might simply be because it is a bit harder to kill enemies quickly (you need to play more defensively). I did not notice anything else when playing the game again, these last few days, but maybe I wasn't focussing too much on details

[Randorama]

This squib focuses on Elevator Action Returns, a game that takes the “R2RKMF plus platforms” genre and imbues it with cinematographic panache. There are several ports across different systems (e.g. Saturn, Taito Memories 2 on PS2, the S-Tribute on PS4/Switch), so I invite my readers to check the wiki for this “external”
Facet of this title. The game is the second of a series that includes the classic 1983 Elevator Action, GBA and PS3 titles loosely based off Elevator Action Returns, and two light guns games (read here). The game’s versions seem only to differ in title: the US one carries the title Elevator Action II. Given the game’s 30th anniversary, I thought of offering my views on the game in a somewhat more organised manner, rather than spouting unorganised rants that I have posted on the forum over the decades. On we go:

Elevator Action Returns (Taito, 1995) is an action/platform hybrid game with some of the game mechanics of tactical shooting games. Players control one of three high-ranking secret agents who must foil the plans of “Red Suit Man” and his army of terrorist henchmen pursuing a “New World Order”. The game is notable for vastly expanding on the first title’s original formula. Elevator Action featured an unnamed spy who must enter marked rooms in a building to steal confidential data, kill black-hatted enemies, and use elevators to reach the building’s bottom floor. E(levator)A(ction)R(eturns) expands on this formula by featuring different types of environments, special weapons, close-range attacks, a noir-tinged atmosphere and plot, plus a glorious OST by Zuntata then-guitarist YACK (Yasuhisa Watanabe). My goal in this squib is to convince my readers that they should really play and 1-CC the game, and that EAR deserves the exceedingly repetitive but endearing praise.

A bit of context, if I may. By early 1995, Taito had released several titles on their F3 board, a new hardware that could handle scaling and rotating sprites, and had high-quality, Dolby surround hardware. Taito released the legendary shmup Ray Force, A(rcade)RPG Light Bringer and puzzle favourite Puzzle Bubble 2 a few months earlier, and released a great selection of sequels to their classic series. Aside EAR, players experienced Darius Gaiden, Bubble Symphony and Bubble Memories, Hat Trick Hero ‘94 and Hat Trick Hero ‘95, Arkanoid Returns, and adorable Akkavader, among others. Taito would have soon moved to more powerful hardware (e.g. the FX-1B system), releasing early “polygonal” gems like Ray Storm. For lovers of 2.5D graphics, however, Taito kept releasing games until 1998, with puzzler Land Maker offering the last hurrah for this board and visual standard.

The game plot echoes preoccupations about the advent of the new millennium and general phobias about terrorism. At the turn of the century and millennium, social unrest and economic turmoil torment an unnamed country on what seems to be Northern Europe. The “New World Order” terrorist group and their seemingly billionaire leader, “Red Suit Man”, start planting bombs in strategic places and pursue a strategy of tension. Special group D.E.F. and members Edie Burret, Kurt Bradfield and Jad the Taff are tasked with defusing their bombs, recover files regarding their operations and killing hundreds of terrorists with zest. The game intentionally exudes an atmosphere reminiscing of 1960/1970s noir-infused spy movies like The Ipcress Files, The Three days of the Condor and early James Bond. The D.E.F. trio’s final mission in the enemy’s bunker offers a veritable “Taito ending”, as proof that the game homages this view of “spy games”.

The game mechanics provide an interesting array of options. Players control one of the three characters of choice with the joystick, shoot gun bullets with the A button, and jump with the B button. Pressing twice in the same direction results in characters running until the player pushes a different direction: characters can jump longer distances when running. Jump animations vary with each character: Jad is a bulky guy barely hopping over obstacles, Edie performs higher and longer jumps, and Kurt delivers impressive somersaults. Characters can shoot an infinite number of normal bullets, with Edie being the fastest sharpshooter and Jad the slowest. Characters can also shoot in a diagonal line (up-right, up-left+A), and hit enemies above them if no obstacles interfere. Hitting enemies with jumps can kill enemies or make them fall down to elevator pits; Characters can also punch enemies to death when in close range.

Players can also configure the C button for the “grenade” attack, or press A and B together. Each character uses their distinctive type of grenade to blow up enemies and structures. Edie places a “fire bomb” at a short distance creating a small fire hazard; Kurt throws a “hand grenade” blowing up along a whole floor; Jad throws a “sensor bomb” exploding when an enemy approaches. Players start with 10 grenades but can collect power-ups awarding five or ten extra grenades. Each character starts with a full energy bar and a spare life; the game does not award extends, a fact not hampering 1-CC in a serious manner. Characters lose energy when hit by bullets or physical hits (e.g. Dobermann dogs’ bites), but die immediately if they fall down an elevator pit, end up crashed by a descending elevator, or try to jump to a lower platform/level.

The game’s platform mechanics play a key role in how they define Stage design/layout and thus difficulty, but some Facets have a key role in the game’s basic mechanics. Characters can enter elevators or hop onto moving platforms, as in the first title. Once they are in an elevator or on a platform, Players can control the elevator/platform’s movement and height by pushing up or down to ascend or descend by one floor/level. Players must thus navigate quite vast Stages by carefully using these moving parts, while also avoiding random horrible deaths by squashing or falling. Be aware that enemies can control elevators/platforms too, and will try to squash reckless characters. Be also aware that getting hit while running may result in players being knocked down and potentially falling off platforms, too. Players must thus carefully ascend or descend levels and floors while using elevators/platforms with wisdom.

We discuss the complex and intriguing role of elevators and levels in the unfolding of the game and its Stages after we have discussed its luscious audio-visual presentation, however. Visually, the Facet that players will most likely note is that sprites tend to be small but with remarkably fluid animations and incredibly intricate designs. When characters shoot, tiny bullet shells exit their guns and fall on the ground, producing a distinct metallic sound when ricocheting. Characters can kill generic punks in shirts; dodgy criminals in trench coats, armed with shotguns; Dobermann dogs; short dudes in Azmat suits; the list goes on. Each of the many types of enemies have their own distinctive swagger and several attack patterns, thus offering the impression that each fight (and kill) has a personal dimension. The game thus features extremely detailed and vivid graphics perhaps comparable to high-quality anime.

The game’s art direction is notable in featuring realistic backgrounds, with some pre-rendered elements. Stages are vast and the camera may zoom on sections and specific rooms during cut-scenes, thus showing the impressive amount of detail underpinning each sprite and Stage. The colour palette is intricate but it focuses on specific colours for each Stage. Stage one features a dilapidated building and lots of grey concrete walls; Stage two is set in airport, with brightly coloured sections inside planes. Stage three has a memorable passage with characters reaching ascending a high-rise building against the backdrop of a crimson sunset. Stage five is on an oil platform, and involves the blue sea and greasy interiors. The game’s visual appearance thus distinguishes itself for its apparent realism but also for the astounding attention to detail. Taito’s F3 board offered powerful graphic resources, and the game exploits them in full.

The aural Facet of the game marries this visual intensity with gusto, thanks to YACK’s endeavours. Let us address sound effects first, as the most immediate proof of this cinematic marriage. The game is notable in implementing a vast array of quite realistic sound effects: guns are loud, bullets ricochet on the floor, punches have weight when they hit bodies, and platform may hum loudly. Some enemies die with loud screams; the engines of the flying vehicles on Stages four and six sound as if they were sampled from small hovercrafts. Mid-sections on Stages four and five only have environmental sounds as their soundtrack; players can hear the steps of walking characters and the sea’s waves, respectively. Characters have memorable lines, like Kurt’s “I am going to get you next time!”. The game thus offers an intense feeling of “immersion” in the action, via its deeply cinematographic aesthetics.

The OST offers aromas of the lounge-jazz style typical of spy movies with panache and many environmental effects. Each Stage’s theme comes in multiple movements, one per Stage Section. Stage one’s Red After Image has a slowly atmospheric lounge theme that moves to a single eerie melody after “Red Suit Man” blows up the building. Stage two’s System Down Starts with muzak-like themes and boarding calls at the airport in which the Stage takes place. The second movement switches to a dramatic action piece, and ends with a third section featuring an sparse acoustic bass notes and a brooding mood. Stage six moves through movements of increasing melancholy, until the menacing Red Suit theme plays during the final battle. Missing Link is a painfully melancholic ending theme, and so is Pre Production, the harrowing “High Score” theme. EAR is an enthralling cinematographically designed game, heart-breaking and beautiful in equal measure.

Let us now focus on difficulty, as the last Facet of the game itself that we explore, before we move to my own personal elucubrations on the game. I believe that the game involves three principal Facets of difficulty: game mechanics, Stage design/layout, and their weak, subtly defined interaction. I believe that they respectively attract 20, 20 and 10 points, even if I also believe that they involve low though flexible final scores. My reasons are as follows. Game mechanics are not too complex, though they are relatively detailed. Players must master how to use the basic gun(s), the machine gun power-up (“M”) and the (Rocket) launcher (“L”). Close range attacks are relatively slow and their activation range is the equivalent of one human sprite, so players may require some practice on their successful use. Jumps are another weapon, but getting while jumping is very risky: careful timing is necessary.

Controlling elevators and using bombs also requires some practice: players may also learn how to use elevators/platforms to avoid incoming bullets. Bombs also require some practice due to their character-specific range and characteristics, even if their effect can be devastating. These five mechanics motivate a 5/20 difficulty points for the first Facet, thus. Stage design/layout presents a slightly more complex picture. Players must visit rooms with a red door to collect the terrorists’ intel and defuse bombs, and can visit rooms with a blue door to get power-ups or bonus items. Only “red rooms” are obligatory to clear a Stage: all “blue rooms” are optional, though often useful. All Stages have an invisible timer: defuse all bombs by within the time limit or witness a “failed mission” screen, and start the Stage again. Visit red rooms quickly, or a very annoying alarm noise will start bleeping.

Stage one is rather straightforward, as the characters start from the roof and must reach the street level. Stage two to six take place in an airport, shopping centre under construction, a city’s sewers, and then the aforementioned oil platform and secret base. Ideally, players can master the Stages’ layouts and find the “path of least belligerence”, i.e. the path by which they visit red rooms and fight as few enemies as possible. Red Suit Man provides an easy final battle but players must race against the clock: 180 (visible) seconds to clear Stage six’s final section. If players master how to waltz through Stages only killing minimal numbers of enemies, Stages two to six provide a difficulty point each, and Red Suit Man offers another point of difficulty. We thus have a 6/20 difficulty points for this second Facet, for a total of 11/50 points.

I propose this score as a minimal difficulty value for a 1-CC: EAR is a low-tier game for intermediate players, if players ignore score-driven opportunities and thus never interact with the third difficulty Facet. The reason why I make this claim is relatively simple to elucidate. Score mechanics hinge on how game mechanics and Stage layout interact, though in a nuanced manner. First, players can shoot lamps, lights and power outlets to trigger temporary blackouts in one or more levels/floors, as in the first title. All kills and bonus items are worth their score multiplied by 2 (e.g. a 100 points-enemy becomes worth 200 points). Close range and jump attacks trigger another multiplier, so killing a 100 points-enemy with a punch, in the dark, is worth 400 points. Light comes back quickly (five seconds or so), so be sure to kill enemies as quickly as possible.

Players can also kill enemies by destroying inflammable oil cans and boxes, thus also triggering multipliers. Burning enemies can set ablaze other enemies and maintain a killing “chain”, in a rather gruesome manner, and bombs always trigger a x2 multiplier when killing enemies. When at risk, players can use rockets or bombs’ explosions to cancel bullets, so their use also has defensive purposes. Blue rooms usually offer power-ups, bonus items or even food (i.e. energy) when characters enter them. However, players must time their choice during their slot machine-like random rotation (i.e. press A or B at the right time). When characters enter either red or blue rooms they cannot be hit, since they are in another room. They also get a second or so of i(invicilbity)-frames, after exiting these rooms. Collecting items in blue rooms can thus increase energy, points or bombs numbers, and allow characters to dodge bullets.

Crucially, the mastering of these mechanics requires players to follow less survival-driven paths through Stages. Furthermore, if players want to pursues a counter-stop (i.e. 999990 points) in the arcade versions, they must learn some tricky forms of milking. Players must reach one key spot in each Stage, where they can spend time kill quickly respawning enemies. The exploitation of these posts is not trivial. Players thus must learn how to handle the hordes of respawning enemies while the seconds tick down on an invisible clock, and without risking a stray killing bullet. The third interactional Facet thus attracts another 10 points for a total 21/50 points: counter-stopping the game is potentially a low-tier effort but also a feasible goal for advanced players. Add two points for using slow-paced Jad (i.e. 13/50 or 23/50 total points); remove two points for quick-witted Edie (i.e. 9/50 or 19/50 total points).

By this point, you may feel ready to grab your copy of the game and have another go at a good score. Xenny definitely thought that “xe” had a chance to play rather than enduring my experiences, too (N.B. “xe” is my own invented pronoun: let us try with this form, for this squib). My bad: experiences first, pleasure later. If you survive the reading of these experiences, of course. It is June 1995, and my uncle is taking me to the big Luna Park in the EUR district of Rome, because he wants to buy a few new boards. Business at his arcade is still steady but arcade gaming currently seems to struggle to attract new players, as only fighting games and new polygonal titles can catch people’s attention. Capcom’s fighters, Namco’s Tekken 2 and Sega’s Virtua Striker guarantee excellent revenues; every other title apparently operates at a loss.

My uncle sets his sights on EAR, Puzzle Bobble 2, Darius Gaiden and Bubble Symphony, plus a few other titles I have forgotten. He is confident that well-designed sequels will make him a buck, and the huge arcade/retailer company operating insight the Luna Park is selling these boards at accessible prices. He is enthralled by EAR, so I am sure that at least one person will play the game in the arcade. My 1995 self does not visit the arcade too often and tends to focus on one or two titles to clear as an upper limit, at any given time. Tabletop RPGs and other hobbies suck most of my hobby time. My 1995 self will join Naval College Morosini in September, so he is not so keen on arcade gaming because it is solitary past-time, often. My 1995 self is not so convinced that this is a good choice.

I only play a few sporadic credits before joining the college, as I find the game slow-paced and distracting due to this pacing choice. The atmosphere and soundtracks are certainly impressive, but my 1995 is mostly focusing on shooters and scrolling fighting games. Any other game feels sluggish, honestly. I do not believe that I ever reach Stage three; I enter Navy life in September, and exit this black hole of anti-democratic stupidity by 2000. In my MAME gap year, I re-discover this game through RAINE, an old emulator that can emulate Taito’s F3 games. My 2000 can understand and appreciate the slow pace and the darker undertones of the game better. Age-based wisdom and actual knowledge of real life “spy games” guide this newfound appreciation of the game. I never find a way to clear Rolling Thunder 2, but I master this EAR with ease, indeed.

It is 2006 and I decide to buy the Saturn port of the game while I am back from my MA studies in Utrecht University. Summer is not so hot and I have no idea on what I will do, now that I have completed my MA. The port is expensive, so I also wonder if it is wise to spend money on a game that I cleared many times, rather than on necessities such as groceries. Oh well, the port seems arcade-perfect, and my grandparents offer me temporary financial support while I spend a gap semester before join a PhD school at Macquarie University, Sydney. I become curious about the scoring system and I admit watching the MAME replays on MARP to learn more about it. I am motivated enough to milk Stages heavily and reach 900k points or so, shortly before I leave for Australia in February 2007.

Over the years, I periodically play the game for a quick, nostalgic 1-CC’s, especially in Summer. Some time in 2015, while working in Sweden, I manage to 1-CC the game with Edie and Jad: not particularly hard endeavours. In 2022 I decide to try a “true spy” run, focusing on killing as few enemies as possible and thus landing the lowest score for a 1-CC. It is the worst summer drought in Wuhan in the last 70 years, and I am painfully alone to face it. One day I can clear the game at roughly 170k and decide that it is a satisfying result, especially since I cannot even sit down and play without sweating profusely. 1995, 2000, 2006, 2015, 2022, 2025: EAR is my reference game during transition phases and brooding moments, when I feel that I can only think in job, wearing pitch black-tinted glasses.

Let us wrap up, before we drown in oppressive thoughts. Elevator Action Returns is an “R2RKMF plus platforms” game that mixes a strongly cinematographic appeal with slow-paced but entertaining action. Players take the role of Edie Burret, Kurt Bradfield and Jad the taff, agents of the D.E.F. agency that must foil the nihilist plants of ‘Red Suit Man”. Players can clear six Stages of platform-based action while disposing of terrorists in discretionary manners, while also recovering intel data and defusing bombs. The game is notable for its flexible game mechanics, its quirky but potentially enjoyable scoring opportunities, highly detailed graphics and a killer OST offering a “kino” experience. Players who are interested in the genre and are looking into an accessible but potentially deeply satisfying 1-CC game can find in EAR a perfect title. Just be sure to be strong enough to also appreciate the harrowing end, of course.

(3246 words, or 8.2 pages in times new roman, size 12, single space; The usual disclaimers apply. Here is a “loose end” topic that I may explore further once I will revise the full set of squibs, then. The Scitron/Pony Canyon VGM album offers different arrangements from the arcade and Saturn versions of the game, and includes a booklet detailing the plot and info from the production team (and the Elevator Action ‘95 remix). It also sheds light on Taito/Zuntata’s “V.C.O.” (Vision, Conception, Origination) design philosophy. It took me decades and the advent of automatic translation software to figure out what V.C.O. stands for. I will discuss this Facet of game design, however, once I will tackle Ray Force in my squibs. “When”, you may wonder, but I must answer by quoting N.2 answering N.6’s questions: “that would be telling”. Be seeing you…until the next squib).