Mega Man Review

 (Originally published to Glitchwave on 2/8/2023)

[Image from glitchwave.com]

Mega Man

Developer: Capcom

Publisher: Capcom

Genre(s): 2D Platformer

Platforms: NES

Release Date: December 17, 1987

Mega Man is probably the most alluring video game character conceived on paper. Mario might be the undisputed king of the gaming medium, but can you imagine pitching the concept of Mario to a producer? Two Italian brothers stomp on walking mushrooms and turtles on a quest to save a princess from a spiky dinosaur, and who also moonlight as plumbers? The producers would accuse you of being on drugs and not jokingly like we’ve come to do with Mario’s content. They would kick you out onto the streets for wasting their time. The Legend of Zelda’s premise is more traditional, but the high fantasy realm might have alienated potential gamers that would stick their noses up at the “nerdy” tropes associated with that genre of fiction. Mega Man, on the other hand, has a broad appeal that entices the general demographic of gamers, especially in the 1980s. Mega Man is a science-fiction story that stars a plucky robot boy who shoots other robots with blasts of energy that jet out of his arm cannon. Which of these games sounds like the money maker? Capcom most likely greenlit Mega Man in a matter of seconds. In some alternate timeline, I’m certain that Mega Man reigns supreme over all of his contemporaries as the Mickey Mouse of the medium. Here, Nintendo beat him to the punch with Mario a few years prior. Admittedly, Mega Man’s 2D platformer foundation wouldn’t have been the same if it didn’t have Mario as a template to ape. Still, there was something fresh and invigorating about how Mega Man translated that template into a high-octane experience that oozed a level of adrenaline that Mario didn’t. As it stands in this timeline, it’s evident that I’m not the only person who sees something special in Mega Man, as Capcom’s boy wonder has spawned innumerable sequels and spin-offs that all capture that lightning-fueled action that initially made the blue bomber a smash success in the 8-bit era. If only Capcom had kept up that momentum, he’d still be a worthy contender today. Mega Man’s 1987 debut on the NES proved right out of the gate that Capcom had a bonafide hit on their hands, but it’s also apparent from his launch title that Capcom had a ways to go before their new IP could be confidently waved around as their flagship franchise.

On top of his gameplay radiating more pizzazz than Mario, Mega Man also matched him in mascot potential. There were other third-party 2D platformers on the NES revolving around fast-paced shooting gameplay, but the playable characters in these games lacked a certain charisma that conversely made a character like Mario stand out in the public consciousness of late 80’s gaming. Could anyone name the two dudes from Contra off the tops of their heads without racking their brains? Bionic Commando is a title, not the name of a character to get attached to. Fortunately for Capcom, Mega Man managed to be the best of both worlds. How ironic is it that a cyborg exudes the most personality from a design standpoint? His wide-eyed, Astro-Boy expression was the most detailed face on the NES in the late ’80s, and Mega Man even does an open-faced smile every time he jumps. At least, I believe he’s smiling. It’s still hard to tell with 8-bit graphics. All things considered, it’s still impressive that Capcom rendered a personable protagonist with rudimentary hardware, as every playable character beforehand required a heavy suspension of disbelief that they were even human.

Mega Man should be relieved that his design is rich in charm because his origin was rife with translation complications. If you think the silly typo that changed “Monkey Kong” to “Donkey Kong” was the most unfortunate instance of a character getting muddled during their trip overseas, Mega Man’s entire identity was shifted exponentially. For those who don’t know, Mega Man’s canon name in his native Japan is “Rockman,” which explains why his sister is named Roll to a confused Yankee such as myself. While the Japanese developers kept his original name, the English translators opted for the more alliterative Mega Man, which is what the Anglosphere has known him for decades. I’m not certain if it’s due to my familiarity as an American, but I much prefer the name Mega Man. The adjective “mega” carries a mighty ambiguity instead of chaining the blue bomber’s identity down to an arbitrary element/object.

I’m glad this translation snag has persisted, but I cannot say the same for the garbled mess that could’ve become Mega Man’s plot over here in the west. Mega Man’s story, like many of his NES contemporaries, is a narrative formula that has been exhausted over the course of a dozen subsequent entries. Mr. Light, Mega Man’s benevolent creator that looks like Santa Claus in a lab coat, has transformed the then futuristic 21st century into the idyllic society of robots performing 100% of the manual labor, a future that we are still striving for in 2023. Dr. Light’s maniacal colleague Dr. Wiley has exploited this burgeoning premise by turning six of Dr. Light’s robots into subservient minions that do his bidding to take over the world. To combat Wiley’s nefarious goals, Dr. Light transforms his domestic sweeping robot Rock into a soldier capable of defeating the madman, hence another reason why changing his name to Mega Man was a spectacular idea to highlight his transformation (but the same was not given to his sister Roll? Are we to infer that women are only built for the home by the sexist Dr. Light?). The American translators follow closely, only with their world being named “Monsteropolis” and having Dr. Wily as Light’s disgruntled lab assistant. Either way, the two iterations of the story don’t impact the game, for the exposition is only detailed in its manuals. The Japanese origin story and plot for the first game is now canon across every nation worldwide, ignoring the unnecessary nonsense we Americans added for no discernable reason. As for the American box art that depicts a disturbingly realistic Mega Man, I’d rather not dwell on something that gives me the creeps. It’s obvious that the Japanese one showcases an accurate illustration of Mega Man.

Another reason why Mega Man is a more suitable moniker for Capcom’s action hero is that “Rockman” could be a potential identity for a “robot master.” There are six rogue robots under Wily’s control, and are an eclectic bunch with their own elemental themes. The player must take note of these themes because it is a substantial aspect of any Mega Man game’s progression. A monumental stride in gaming innovation that Mega Man pioneered is the player’s ability to choose any of the six levels at will from the start menu instead of the linear level progression with an incremental difficulty curve seen across every other game at the time. Choosing any level from the get-go is a liberating prospect, but an underlying aspect to succeeding in Mega Man is the sufficient order to tackle the robot masters based on their elements. The game doesn’t direct the player on the breeziest path to defeating them all, nor does it explain why a contrived order is imperative. Once Mega Man defeats a robot master, he absorbs their power to use of his own volition, coinciding with the energy meter displayed alongside his health. That’s another mark of gaming ingenuity that Capcom devised before Nintendo did. Suck it, Kirby (no pun intended). Firstly, there is the matter of which robot master to encounter when all Mega Man has on his person is his piddly pea-shooter. Cut Man is a reasonable first foe because he takes the most damage with the standard blaster, but I always insist on pursuing Bomb Man first because of his spacious arena and simple attack patterns. The brilliance lies in the player having the flexibility to choose without a clear outline as long as they see the stark difference in damage using the correct special weapon on a specific robot master. As for the other robot masters, Elecman, Iceman, and Fireman, all have themes that the player can make an educated guess on their order based on elemental tropes. I guess Guts Man is the wild card of the bunch?

As for the levels leading up to the robot masters, they equally share the same amount of rough level obstacles in their own unique ways. Mega Man is a game that, by all means, should foster a more accessible experience compared to its contemporaries on the NES. Mega Man is responsive and can easily maintain a smooth momentum, his projectile blaster ensures a spatial divide between himself and his enemies, and he can be hit several times before dying, which can already be staved off by the number of health items found on the field and in pickups from enemies. While the game doesn’t offer a save system or even a password to recover their progress, it at least offers unlimited continues. However, for all of Mega Man's perks, it severely punishes the player for their mistakes. Enemy damage isn’t too much of a prime concern unless it accumulates. The game mostly penalizes the player with its array of spike pits and bottomless pits. Every other screen on Bomb Man’s stage features a sunken crater that could lead to Mega Man’s thorny demise. The start of Guts Man’s stage involves platforming on nothing but a series of pulleys that periodically collapse when it reaches a crack in the foundation. Climbing up the towering ladders in Elec Man’s stage can be halted by the parallel shockwave blasts of green, egg-shaped robots, and the Bunby Heli enemies of Cut Man’s stage have the unpredictable airborne trajectory of a pissed-off hornet. The reappearing block platforming challenges are another aspect of Mega Man’s gameplay that was cemented in the gaming lexicon for the duration of the pixelated 2D era. Their patterns in Iceman’s stage are incredibly obtuse and require steep precision.

I can’t fault the game too harshly for any of this, for none of this is more demanding than the typical 2D platformer on the NES. However, all of this culminates in an unfair level of bullshit in the latter half of the game. Once all six robot masters are defeated, an icon appears in the middle of the screen with Dr. Wily’s ugly mug on it. Selecting this new level takes Mega Man to the climactic point of facing Dr. Wily in his daunting fortress. The ascent up to the pinnacle of fighting Dr. Wily is divided into four sections. The first is a rampant spike in difficulty so severe that it’s fundamentally broken. Firstly, Mega Man will be greeted by those hopping juggernaut enemies that defend the entrances of each robot master’s lair. Considering that these enemies will stomp off a hefty fraction of Mega Man’s health and the screen will hastily respawn them, a logical solution is to freeze them with the Ice Slasher. Before the player has time to pride themselves on being so clever, the game punishes them with an obstacle that involves creating platforms by freezing wavering flame pillars. If the player can’t time a perfect shot with all three, the depletion of the Ice Slasher energy forces them to waste all of their lives to restore it. The following screens show a spring enemy guaranteed to hit Mega Man and knock him off the ladder he’s climbing. Given that Mega Man tumbles as hard as a fainting goat, the player will likely be killed by the pit of spikes below. Behind a series of chunky blocks in Elec Man’s stage that can be manipulated by Guts Man’s power is the Magnet Beam, the one extra weapon in the game. This weapon makes mitigating the grueling sections featuring the disappearing blocks and other finicky parts of the game a cinch, so it comes recommended. Despite the apparent appeal of this weapon, the game dupes the player into thinking it's optional. Unless Mega Man can spontaneously rocket himself upward like he isn’t subject to the weight of gravity in one particular room in Wily’s Castle, this item is required to finish the game. If it’s not in the player’s possession, they have to burn their lives and replay Elec Man’s stage. Harsh penalties are one thing, but the jagged game design that conflicts with the game’s liberal design is unforgivable.

Once the player survives the fractured fuckery, the dark arena at the end introduces the game’s final boss: The Yellow Devil. Obviously, he isn’t actually the game’s final boss as Wily is still the end target that ends the story. He’s figuratively the final boss because his fight is infamous for the shockingly brutal level of skill needed to defeat him. If Wily's domain is a club, then the Yellow Devil is the big bouncer with his arms crossed, ready to pounce on undesirables. The yellow mass of globular matter has a consistent pattern of physically composing himself and opening his menacing, singular eye for a measly laser shot. However, the speed at which he reforms his body is so swift that dodging it will make the player feel like they’re trying out for American Ninja Warrior, and the opening he grants the player is as brief as a blink. I’d instead plunge down into the seventh circle of hell to face the real biblical Devil wearing Sean Connery’s costume from Zardoz with nothing but a pair of nunchucks as my weapon than fight this bright abomination fairly. That’s the keyword: fairly. You see, the game offers two separate pause screens, one with the weapons menu and a more traditional still image. Millions of gamers found that exploiting the latter with Elec Man’s power decimates the Yellow Devil with some precise timing. Yes, I resorted to this infamous trick because I am a mere mortal man who should be excused for being unable to vanquish an otherworldly being like a Devil. Barely anything after the Yellow Devil is of consequence, not even Dr. Wily’s pathetic final fight. The Yellow Devil is the penultimate challenge in the first Mega Man title, exposing the faulty fabric of the game negatively and positively.

The first outing of Capcom’s blue boy generated a whirlwind of mixed emotions. On the one hand, the game introduced a bevy of stellar mechanics and gameplay attributes unseen across any other game on the NES that would greatly influence a vast number of new IPs, such as a non-linear level select option and the invigorating platform challenges. On the opposite side of the spectrum, all of these are implemented very shoddily by the developers, most likely a case of overstepping one's ambitions. I wouldn’t say that Mega Man 1 is unfinished or unplayable. All the game needs is a considerable polish job, and then Mega Man can shine at its full potential. Eating a fish raw is unpleasant, but it is a delectable feast once cooked and seasoned.