Duke Nukem 3D Review

 (Originally published to Glitchwave on 5/17/2024)

[Image from glitchwave.com]

Duke Nukem 3D

Developer: 3D Realms

Publisher: FormGen

Genre(s): First-Person Shooter

Platforms: PC, MAC, PS1, Saturn, N64

Release Date: January 29, 1996

Talk about a video game relic. Understanding Duke Nukem’s rampant popularity in the brief window of time where he was a bonafide video game celebrity was kind of a “you had to be there” type of scenario. Along with Pogs and Pauly Shore, Duke Nukem is now stamped into the era-defining pop culture staples of the mid/late 1990s that could not escape beyond the years of their initial relevance. For those who were sentient at that momentary period or are scholarly video game historians, we know that Duke Nukem’s legacy is synonymous with the vestigial early period of the burgeoning first-person shooter genre. When id Software was churning out the genre’s pioneering staples such as Wolfenstein and Doom in the early 1990s, Duke Nukem was designed as yet another 2D platformer protagonist in a time where they were as omnipresent in gaming as the mascots on name-brand cereal boxes. One quick relook at this gruff, cigar-smoking He-Man, who was already toting a soldier’s ragbag of firepower as is, gave the developers at 3D Realms some considerable clarity to refashion Duke into the nuanced spatial range of the third dimension with Duke Nukem 3D, hence the “D” following the sequential number in the title. As a result, 1996 was early enough to distinguish Duke as one of the first-person shooter’s founding fathers before a little game called Halo redefined the modern FPS standard indefinitely. Among the respected ranks of elder FPS titles, I’ve always positioned Duke Nukem 3D as the quintessential game over its primordial peers. There’s a certain element of charisma and refinement that Duke Nukem 3D exudes that earns its pinnacle placement in my mind.

One additional point to Duke Nukem 3D’s charisma is giving the titular character a voice to accentuate the personality of the muscle-bound figure behind those sunglasses so dark that the frames look like van windows. Admittedly, Duke Nukem isn’t the most dynamic or relatable character gaming has to offer. In fact, his uber-macho persona is so exaggerated that it comes across as a parody of the 1980s and 1990s action heroes that oozed pure testosterone from every sweating pore. But what a parody Duke is! If Bruce Willis, Sly Stone, Jean Claude Van Damme, and Steven Segal all ejaculated into a petri dish and the collective of hyper-masculine leading movie man semen was fertilized with an egg, the spawn conceived by this experimental breeding method still wouldn’t be as badass as Duke Nukem. Remember all of those Chuck Norris jokes that circulated around the internet in the latter half of the 2000s? All those tongue-in-cheek tributes to the Walker, Texas Ranger star and martial artist being an indestructible demigod of righteousness would have easily been just as applicable to Duke Nukem. Duke’s as rugged as a superhuman steel worker and approaches all hostility directed at him by beastly extraterrestrial invaders without flinching and quivering that clenched toothy grin of his. Duke is also a connoisseur of carnal pleasures with the ladies, and the harems he regularly coordinates would knock Wilt Chamberlain off as the supreme champion of the (sexual) scoring scoreboard. My favorite aspect of Duke Nukem as a character is that he’s a God at spewing one-liners. The game will automatically pull the Duke Nukem doll string at every other step he takes, and the bodacious single-sentenced lines of dialogue he utters with Jon St. John’s gravelly, monster truck rally radio voice providing the vocal delivery is music to my ears. Arguably, Duke Nukem’s golden quips are the aspect of this game that have been immortalized the deepest in the gaming zeitgeist thanks to their continual persistence as soundbites. I realize that since modern gaming journalism has expanded the conversation of social consciousness regarding the medium, Duke Nukem is a character commonly indicted as the epitome of a vicarious outlet to a misogynistic male-power fantasy, and I can’t deny that there is plenty of evidence to support the validity of this claim. Still, I refute this smudge to Duke’s integrity by stating that there might have been a time when gamers thought Duke Nukem was cool, but there was never a time when we all took him seriously. Duke Nukem is such an ostentatious embodiment of gaming camp that he reverts back around to actually being the coolest motherfucker ever depicted in pixels or polygons. I can’t say for certainty if the developers intended for Duke Nukem to be perceived through a lens of irony back in the 90s, however.

Despite his retrospective controversies, I still believe that Mr. Nukem is still an upstanding guy with a sense of justice in his heart. After all, the overarching objective of Duke Nukem 3D is an altruistic one, rescuing all the earthling babes that those alien bastards have abducted and reuniting them into the safe and protective arms of human warmth (his own, probably wrapped around them while they stroke his ironclad abs with their fingers). Whether it’s all human females, ones of a reproductive age bracket, or just the sexy ones aged 18-30 with supple breasts (sort of) is unclear. Regardless, Duke is willing to risk his biscuit on a valiant mission to retrieve the fairer half of Earth’s population from invading scum from outer space. Duke’s a lone wolf NSA assassin: the spitting image of J. Edgar Hoover’s wet dreams come to realization in an interactive medium. Or, Duke is not on a mission of government defense and is acting out against the alien forces as personal retribution for shooting down his ride en route to Los Angeles. Either or, the aliens have signed their death warrant by provoking the wrath of the last human they’d be able to handle.

Duke’s mission to save all the babes unceremoniously taken from Earth’s soil is divided into four chapters comprising around seven to ten individual levels. Instead of soaking up the sun’s rays in Malibu with a dozen loose, silicone-enhanced women, Duke now has to engage in a citywide firefight with the aliens in “L.A. Meltdown.” Doesn’t sound like Duke’s vacation to the City of Angels was deterred too drastically, no? The invasion at least grants him the opportunity to kick ass and chew bubblegum, which is one of many pop culture references that Duke coopts as a catchphrase. As he’s making mincemeat out of the squadron of alien forces, Duke will leave Los Angeles County to the California-spanning San Andreas fault located east in the desert. “Lunar Apocalypse” sends Duke slightly beyond the skies to a space station orbiting over the Earth, a massive headquarters operated by the alien army. Duke logically assumes that dismantling the oppressive establishment will be a critical blow to the alien opposition, but the eyesore is really a red herring that tests Duke’s gullibility. While Duke was distracted outside of Earth’s atmosphere, the aliens revved their task force to eleven back in LA, which Duke must revisit to remedy the increased rate of chaos in “Shrapnel City.” Without the pushback from Duke for a momentary period, the aliens accomplish their primary goal that coincides with the capturing of Earth’s human females. In the additional final chapter released with the “Atomic Edition” of the game, one candidate from the selection of unwilling female participants is impregnated with the seed of the alien’s queen, and “The Birth” as the chapter’s title connotes the distressful reality that they’ve succeeded. Who’s the lucky lady deemed to have such exceptional ovaries? We don’t know, but she most likely died during childbirth considering the horrifying creature that violently scratched and clawed its way out of her vagina. Because she’s the regal leader of this alien army and an overall abomination, Duke must expunge this matriarchal monstrosity from existence before her first birthday. While the four chapters align with some sort of narrative arc, the order in which the player tackles them is ultimately superfluous because they are given the option to select any chapter in the main menu. Still, what the chapter format provides is thematic cohesion between all of the individual levels. After hopping around several levels in space during the “Lunar Apocalypse” chapter, it genuinely feels as if a significant portion of progress has passed after Duke returns to civilization.

Whether the backdrop is the sunset strip or the outer limits, the levels of Duke Nukem 3D are bonded by a consistent design philosophy. Each level is technically a trek from point A to B, but that simple trajectory will be thwarted constantly by layers upon layers of circuity. A common integral aspect of the convolution is the need to find three key cards that block paths to progression exactly like in Doom. In fact, this general design philosophy reflects Doom’s methods so similarly that it’s practically like peering into a mirror image. Come to think of it, we don’t have any clear evidence that Duke Nukem isn’t the nom de guerre of “The Doom Guy” unmuffled now due to not having to protect himself with that hefty body armor from the oxygenless atmosphere of Mars or the noxious sulfur of Hell. Seeing how uncanny the levels are between the two FPS games, one could reasonably conclude that there’s only room for one king of the roost in this universe, but he’s the same person after all. While Duke Nukem 3D doesn’t make any meaningful strides of innovation to the FPS genre’s design philosophy, it avoids further accusations of cheap imitation of Doom by sprucing up the visuals. The opaque, cryptic visuals were sensible enough for Doom’s esoteric hellscape, as was the enclosed, repetitive dungeon design of Wolfenstein’s castle interior. The environments in Duke Nukem 3D, however, should have some semblance of realism because of its real-world setting, or at least a broad real-world setting for three out of four of the chapters. Hollywood Boulevard and the surrounding areas may not exude that sunny pomp the city is known for, as the invasion has apparently rendered it in nocturnal darkness. Still, the neon glow of an urban metropolis is discernible enough that the player recognizes that the environment is a concrete jungle with all of the familiar iconography. The levels in LA are packed with earthly establishments fitting for a first-world society. Duke will pass through a number of movie theaters, restaurants, office cubicles, and several assortments of bodegas to convey that sense of a lived-in environment. Duke will also find himself visiting strip clubs and the sets of pornographic films. These settings will give him ample room to flaunt his pension for shoving a couple of bucks in every surviving woman’s face, requesting them to “shake it, baby” to fan the flames of outrage. Even when they comply and show him their boobs, his critics are still going to label him as a sexist pig. A few levels in “The Birth” expound on the real-world setting theme by expanding the recurring places of interest into the length of fully-fledged levels. “Duke-Burger” is a fast food joint with the protagonist as its spokesperson, “Shop-N-Bag” is a supermarket that dwarfs the size of any Costco, and “Babeland” is a theme park that looks as if Disney acquired Hooters as one of their properties. Even when the levels in outer space can feasibly get by with minimal visuals in the foregrounds, every backdrop from the living quarters to the desolate docking bays is still beaming with pixelated detail. One recurring section in “Lunar Apocalypse” that is quite striking is the green, veiny corridors stretched over the perimeter of a wall or an entire room that stores the women deemed disposable by the aliens affixed in what look like cocoons made of mucus. Seeing their naked bodies writhing in excruciating discomfort with their feeble dialogue line of “kill me” is more disturbing than anything seen in Doom.

Naturally, the aliens will be a constant hindrance to reaching the goal point in the already convolutedly-mapped levels. While each of these imperialistic, intergalactic pests is all working under the same branch of some military, whatever planet they call home sure does house an eclectic ecosystem of species. Admittedly, the range of alien enemies is another aspect of Duke Nukem 3D that causes more comparisons with Doom. One can spot parallels between specific types of enemies between Duke Nukem 3D and Doom to strengthen the comparisons as well (ie. the Assault Troopers and the Imps and the Octobrains and Cacodemons). The array of enemies will also increase in difficulty as the game progresses. In “LA Meltdown,” Duke will blast through plenty of frail Assault Troopers and the LAPD who have been transformed into rabid boars who brandish shotguns while still wearing their blue uniforms. Some may be horrified by the sight of our boys in blue being overtaken by the aliens in this degrading fashion, but all they really did was swap the interior natures of these officers to their exteriors (this is a joke, please don’t hurt me). In the later chapters, these enemies will be joined by a legion of formidable foes that Duke needs to keep a mindful watch of around every corner. The floating, spherical Assault Commanders will blast rockets at Duke in enclosed spaces, and God help you if you encounter one of the Battlelord Sentries, who are durable enough with their hulking spike-covered armor pads and rail gun/mine launcher hybrid cannon to qualify as a miniboss. Encountering the bosses at the end of each chapter isn’t exactly a cinematic display, but their behemoth bodies will force Duke to dispense all of his ammunition into them. I especially enjoy the Overlord boss that climaxes “Lunar Apocalypse'' because Duke’s fatality maneuver that finishes off this boss for good sees him literally ripping his head off and shitting down his neck. Duke does not make idle threats, and the evidence of one of his most quoted sayings here is uproariously funny. For as extensive as Duke Nukem 3D’s enemies are, the game never overwhelms the player with an overabundance of them in one spot as a level gimmick like Doom tended to do.

Because every enemy spans a broad range of offensive and defensive attributes, Duke’s arsenal needs to match their eclecticism appropriately. Fortunately, as I’ve alluded to before, Duke’s as strapped as a Pee-Wee soccer team in a minivan. Of course, Duke’s first few weapons cover the basic firearms requisite for all FPS protagonists. The pistols, shotgun, and multispread chain gun are all effective in their own ways, but the joy of combat really kicks off after the first few levels. Grenades are great in situations where bushels of enemies in close quarters must be obliterated simultaneously, but the volatile nature of their timed impact can sometimes result in fatal cases of friendly fire. Why not take total control over the impact with pipe bombs, which always prove to be efficient and relatively more precise? Accompanying the RPG in the category of projectile explosive power is the Devastator weapon which fires several rounds of mini rockets with the fire rate of a machine gun. Laser Trip Bombs can be applied to upright surfaces to punish unobservant enemies, but sticking these to the walls while enemies are shooting at Duke isn’t exactly a practical method of combat. The special weapons that defy the laws of physics are the ones that are especially fun as one can imagine, and they’re surprisingly just as useful. The Shrinker weapon will reduce almost any common enemy to the size of a mouse, and they’ll tremble in fear before Duke pulverizes them with the crushing might of his foot. Duke’s left boot also comes into play after using the Freezethrower, the elemental opposite of a flamethrower that solidifies an enemy in solid ice before Duke shatters them into pieces. Alternately to the Shrinker, the Expander inflates an enemy to the point of bursting like a bomb that impacts all enemies directly around them. Duke Nukem may not possess something as awe-strikingly destructive as the BFG, but each weapon he carries is satisfying to use and will splatter the brains of enemies all over the streets of LA and beyond.

Duke Nukem is generally easier than the FPS games that influenced it on a fundamental level. As I’ve stated before, the pushback from enemies is relatively mild and manageable, unlike the feverish onslaught of Hell’s forces to contend with in Doom. However, the margin of error in Duke Nukem 3D is also razor thin, erasing all level progress made upon dying and making the player revert back to the beginning. This measure isn’t any less harsh here than it is in other FPS games that share the same sense of punitive discipline. On one hand, health kits of varying quantities are plentifully scattered across each level. This convenience also pertains to the array of items such as the mobile health kit and the protective resources like the boots and scuba gear to prevent Duke from harming himself with environmental hazards or drowning respectively. Duke can even restore his health by ten points by taking a whizz whenever he comes across a bathroom, and can fully restore his status by slurping the gushing pipe water upon breaking a toilet or urinal. The lethargic pace of the healing will skirt Duke’s patience, however, and it’s just kinda gross. With all of the liberties one can take to stave off the stiff death penalty, it all tends to be compromised anyway in some situations. God forbid Duke ever gets squished, and there are more cavernous pits to accidentally tumble down than there ever were on the empty planes of Mars or Hell. I understand that these levels are intended to be completed quickly, and every restart will prove quicker after every failure through familiarity. Still, I’ve always vocalized how unfair it is to send the player back to whence they started for any type of game, and the FPS genre is no exception.

As far as the oldest of the old-school FPS games are concerned, Duke Nukem 3D shines the brightest. This metaphor could include but is not limited to the scrupulous detail implemented to give the player reasonably perceptible environments or the intrepid attitude of its GigaChad protagonist that outshone the silent avatars that already flooded the genre in its early period. Duke Nukem 3D still has some jarring elements common across the early examples of the FPS genre, but I can confidently declare that its issues are the sins of the father. Some may chalk up Duke Nukem 3D’s legacy as channeling Doom under a different name, bolstering shallow attributes such as presentation and not much else: Au contraire, my skeptical friends. Duke Nukem 3D’s graphical sheen and vibrant energy make the FPS more joyous and accessible, which is certainly a stride in the genre’s evolution.

Hail to the king, baby!

Mega Man X3 Review

 (Originally published to Glitchwave on 5/15/2024)

[Image from igdb.com]

Mega Man X3

Developer: Capcom, Minakuchi Engineering

Publisher: Capcom

Genre(s): 2D Platformer

Platforms: SNES

Release Date: December 1, 1995

Back to the ol’ grind, eh Capcom? Forgive me if my humorous jab fails to veil my sense of apathy, but I’ve thrown in the towel on the Mega Man X series at this point. When the first Mega Man X game successfully defibrillated the flatlining mainline series that clogged its arteries with too many entries well into the NES’s elderly years, Mega Man’s futuristic second wave of relevancy put the blue bomber on a pedestal that soared far over the heights of when the series was still blossoming a generation prior. Sure, it’s sensible to hold higher expectations for the X series compared to the mainline Mega Man games because they’re inherently privileged by technological advancements. However, it’s difficult to maintain momentum when the first 2.0 upgraded entry practically peaks the franchise’s formula. Every subsequent title is fated to falter as a result, and Mega Man X2 already couldn’t hold a candle to the first game’s glory. Upon playing X 2’s numerical follow-up, Mega Man X3, not only does the game hardly align on the quality of the first game-it proves the damning precedent that I alluded to regarding Mega Man X2.

Mega Man X3’s story arc pertains to X (and Zero) stopping the evil deeds of a new Sigma disciple. However, he was previously a benevolent man of scientific discovery like Dr. Cain and Dr. Light before him. Dr. Doppler, the supposed radical lunatic in question, postulates that the defiant, homicidal nature of the Mavericks isn’t due to a lack of direction, human mistreatment, or listening to Sigma’s resistance dogma in their formative years. Using his gifted scientific mind, Dr. Doppler creates some sort of robotic antidote to pacify the Mavericks as if it were merely a viral corruption in their circuitry. Dr. Doppler’s feats of scientific progress usher in the futuristic utopia that Dr. Cain had envisioned, and they’ve even erected a city called “Doppler Town” to commemorate his accomplishments. However, this far-fetched halcyon scenario is quickly dispatched when eight reploids, the requisite and totally coincidental number of hostile bosses for a Mega Man game, revert to their Maverick status once again and Dr. Doppler is instead fingered as the culprit for what is figured to be an intentional malfunction on his part. Sigma’s Maverick manifesto may mirror many science fiction stories revolving around the sentient autonomy of humanoid robots with artificial intelligence, but at least the themes are still rousing enough to be reused to great effect. Chalking the primary conflict of the series up to an infectious bug in the matrix that seems accidental just strips the narrative of its substance.

So yes, X is hitting the pavement once again to nip the new Maverick menace in the bud before it spreads. What selection of exotic, automaton animals have the developers chosen to represent as the pinnacle challenges of each level? Upon glancing at the menu, we have little clue because there are no descriptions of any of these Mavericks. All we see is four Mavericks aligned across the top and bottom of the screen per usual with a headshot and a still image of their domain. Not even the names of these burly robotic creatures are given. I can only surmise that this is a developer error and an inexcusable one at that. C’mon guys, even the vestigial first mainline Mega Man game at least provided the names of the Robot Masters in the menu! At this point, the stages of the X games are beginning to reuse topographical tropes we’ve already seen in the previous titles. Tunnel Rhino resides in another mine-oriented level buried deep in the underground trenches of the Earth, and the mud spurting from its pores will ensnare X into its viscosity like quicksand. Blizzard Buffalo’s stage is another frosty one but with an artificial cyclone machine exacerbating the turbulent winter overhead as an interesting new gimmick. Surges of electricity shimmy alongside the walls of Volt Catfish’s stage as recurring obstacles, and the “water” stage one would anticipate from Toxic Seahorse is more akin to the gunky sewage of a treatment plant. One would probably expect the two Mavericks designed after bugs to buzz around a humid, untamed jungle area similar to Neon Tiger, but Blast Hornet and Gravity Beetle are located in what appears to be a military complex and airship respectively. At least the submarine stage where X fights Crush Crawfish is somewhat water-oriented, even though it's highly improbable that anyone will find the strictly freshwater crustaceans in the vast, saltwater habitat of the ocean. Nitpicks about the themes surrounding these Mavericks aside, what is actually worth griping about is that several of the stages include plenty of fatal sections such as bottomless pits and beds of spikes at the end of falling that the player cannot anticipate unless they are psychic. These blindspots haven’t marred any Mega Man game since the very first one in 1987, and they’re just as unfair and poorly placed here as they were way back then.

The collective arsenal X can accumulate from the charred remains of the Mavericks are really nothing of note. The “Tornado Fang” and “Frost Shield” penetrate the armor of foes by drilling into their internal wires for double damage. The “Ray Splasher” trickles a flurry of bullets for a few seconds, and Toxic Seahorse’s “Acid Bubble” will corrode the metal right off of enemies once X gingerly plops it out of his arm cannon. The “Gravity Well” and “Parasitic Bomb” effectiveness seems entirely situational, and the “Triad Thunder” is insufficient as a close-ranged weapon and undependable as a long-ranged projectile. The weapon I found to be the most effective blaster substitute was the powerful, dual-wield “Spinning Blade,” but it expends more energy than a clunky air conditioner. If my summary of the boss weapons sounds curt, it's because I’d rather discuss another alternating array of firepower that X3 incorporates. By now, I’m sure every returning player is familiar with the mechs that X can pilot for a short period on the field, caving in cracked corners of land and the faces of enemies with its kinetic punches. In X3, X cannot jack an idle mech or violently take one from an enemy by force. Instead, the mech is summoned from one of the circular podiums littered throughout the levels. X is given the choice of selecting four different mechs with their own unique attributes. The Chimera module is the standard one featured in X with the aforementioned pension for fisticuffs, the Kangaroo module is similar to the one from X2 equipped with a charged attack, the Hawk module borrows the flight function from X2’s mech with rocket arms to boot, and the Frog module is strictly for underwater traversal. Having four flavors of the mech at X’s disposal to boost his offensive and defensive attributes sounds incredibly exciting and convenient on paper. However, the restrictions on this privilege damper its fun factor severely. Firstly, X has to unlock every one of the different mechs by scrounging around the hidden corners of the levels like any other upgrade. Even if X locates three out of four of them, they won’t be available to use until X finds the Chimera module dangling from an elusive room off the beaten path of Blast Hornet’s level. Why does this mech have higher precedence over the others when they all have their own vital utility? In addition, the platforms where a mech is materialized seem to be located in spots where it’s inappropriate to use them. I began to stop bothering with these mechs altogether because using them is sadly burdensome when it should’ve been a highlight of the game.

Unfortunately, the developer’s questionable methods extend to other upgrades found in the game. Remember when finding the energy heart units in the first Mega Man X was just a matter of slightly verging off the intended trajectory? X2 presented a few out-of-reach upgrades locked behind an additional step of using a Maverick’s weapon from another stage, but X3 increased the circuity of obtaining upgrades to the point of overload. For example, one heart unit is located behind a boulder suspended from the ceiling in Tunnel Rhino’s stage, and grabbing it requires both another boss weapon and one of the armor upgrades attached to a specific part of X’s body. Hardly any of the upgrades in X3 are acquired through honest attention on the player’s part. While we’re on the subject of the armor upgrades, X3 tweaks the defensive component of X’s progressive growth into something else that the developers didn’t entirely think through. As usual, armor enhancements are obtained by finding the body-sized capsules in the same obscured corners as the other upgrades. There’s one for each major piece of X’s exterior anatomy, and they all range heavily in opposite spectrums of usefulness. The body upgrade that cuts X’s damage input in half is a given, but the only other new factor of the armor upgrades I appreciate are the vertical leaps granted by the leg armor. Obtaining the helmet upgrade will begin each level with X scanning the layout of the stage and displaying it on a crudely rendered blocked map of the level that indicates where the remaining upgrades are located. This would’ve been a helpful feature only if there was another blipping dot of a different color on the map signifying X’s location in relation to the upgrade. The blaster upgrade is supposed to enhance the magnitude of the charge shot, but the upgrade in X3 rather generates a lopsided beam that sluggishly shoots in whatever direction it damn well pleases. In addition to these, the base upgrades can be augmented even further with the color-swapped pink capsules that insert a chip into the specific piece of armor to increase its effectiveness. Strangely enough, the player can abstain from collecting any of the chips which will reward them with a golden-plated suit of armor with all upgrades attached. Why would the player knowingly pursue the other upgrades beforehand if they were aware that they would come as a package deal by the end? The developers should’ve offered one pink capsule including the golden armor for the player’s efforts to gather up all of the armor upgrades. Actually, scratch that: I advise everyone reading this to forgo the shiny upgrade conglomerate to preserve the practicality of the charge shot.

X3 continues X2’s new trend of secret bosses sporadically interspersed between the levels. I’m glad that not catching the subtle clues of their appearances no longer has permanent, penalizing effects. However, it’s the additional bosses themselves that feel shoehorned in to continue this trend. Dr. Doppler is feeling a tad paranoid to X zeroing in on his location, so he sics two of his specialized henchmen goons called Bit and Byte to dispose of the blue Maverick hunter. While intended to be intimidating, the duo dynamic of these two cronies reminds me less of robotic Vincent and Jules and more of Badger and Skinny Pete. They’re entirely worthless. Meanwhile, one section beneath Crush Crawfish’s stage teleports X to a pathway to a spacious arena where he fights an uncanny apparition of Vile exactly as he did at the first climactic stretch to Sigma in the first game. Despite how irrelevant these supplementary bosses seem initially, vanquishing them somehow has some consequential weight to the remainder of the game. Instead of facing off against the tusked Press Disposer and the abstract Volt Kurageil mech, X will swap their encounters on the way up to Dr. Doppler to fight an unholy fusion of Bit and Byte called the “Godkarmachine O Inary” and Vile for the umpteenth time. However, the player’s completionist pension will not affect the final two bosses of Dr. Doppler and Sigma. Yes, Sigma’s influence still resonates strongly with the corrupted reploids. Except in this context, he exists as the computer virus that has been infecting the Mavericks, and not in a metaphorical manner of spewing anti-organic life rhetoric like a revolutionary propagandist. After X forces Doppler to face the errors of his ways through a swift beating, he tackles a tangible, lifelike version of Sigma in two phases that prove to be far more tense and demanding than the unpolished wireframe head seen in X2. The second phase is especially taxing if the player has inadvertently buggered their charge shot with its upgrade. After an exhausting duel, Sigma reverts to his rudimentary digital self to pull one more trick on X: flooding the arena with ascending lava to literally burn off the last slivers of his health before Zero swoops in and slices him in half of his saber. Excuse me, Sigma, but you’re not allowed to pull a stunt like this unless you are the pinnacle boss of a Metroid game. No, I’m not mad because it killed me unexpectedly (okay, reasonably a little).

Mega Man X3 is a predictable continuation of what the first X game established to advance the Mega Man formula. It expands on what the second X game introduced, albeit all of its aspects that I wasn’t particularly fond of, and makes them reasonably more manageable such as the loosened importance of the additional bosses. Besides the reinstated assets it carries over, the distinctive changes it makes are so bewildering it is as if the developers failed to test the game before releasing it. I’m still scratching my head as to why X can’t freely use the mechs he unlocks, the menu doesn’t list the names of the Mavericks, and so many more to list that I’m frankly appalled. It feels reactionary to assign Mega Man X3 the status of the nadir of the franchise. Still, it’s certainly the most flawed and irritating Mega Man game I’ve played thus far.

Crash Bandicoot 2: Cortex Strikes Back Review

 (Originally published to Glitchwave on 5/8/2024)

[Image from igdb.com]

Crash Bandicoot 2: Cortex Strikes Back

Developer: Naughty Dog

Publisher: SCE

Genre(s): 3D Platformer

Platforms: PS1

Release Date: November 6, 1997

One Crash Bandicoot game would never have sufficed. Mario (and Sonic to a lesser extent) built their regal video game empires by stacking entry upon entry on the base of their first title to accentuate the ubiquity of their brands to the heights of superstardom. If Sony were going to stack their de facto platformer mascot Crash Bandicoot to reach the towers where its competitors sit pretty and content among the heavens, they were going to have to produce more Crash Bandicoot content on their console. Also, Crash’s debut didn’t resonate a substantial enough ring to echo his presence in the ears of his rivals. It was a fine first leap into the realm of the third dimension, even as a rudimentary example of the platformer genre’s rough transition. However, the brutal rigidity and error margins coupled with the discernable level of derivativeness certainly did not match the timeless accessibility that solidified Mario as the king of gaming. Still, a second entry is really all a series needs to elevate itself and make that desired impact. After all, the second bomb dropped on Nagasaki was the one that ended the war. Okay, maybe that part of my analogy is a little insensitive, especially since it pertains to an American developer attempting to conquer at least two Japanese console magnates. Still, one cannot deny that Japan realized America meant business after unleashing that following blast of nuclear destruction, forfeiting the ongoing battle as a result of their moxie. If Crash Bandicoot as a series was aligning with a trilogy arc, then Crash Bandicoot 2: Cortex Strikes Back should ideally be the entry that fixes the first game and stamps Crash as a serious contender for platforming royalty.

I’ve heard of direct sequels, but this is ridiculous. The events of Crash 2 start quite literally seconds after Crash’s triumphant victory over Cortex at the end of the first game. Simultaneously as Tawna is preemptively giving Crash a smooching sampler of what she has in store for him later that night after rescuing her, if you know what I mean, we see another perspective during this scene when Cortex is tumbling down from his flying, pink zeppelin in defeat. After screaming his uvula off, Cortex miraculously survives the fall after he lands on a soft patch of land underneath the ground in a cavern. To add to this fortunate circumstance, Cortex also experiences a stroke of dumb luck when he sees a glowing pink crystal hovering around his landing zone. Context to Cortex’s joy is not given to the player, but everyone assumes that spotting this oblique, luminescent rock has inspired him to cook up another dastardly plan. During an errand mission to retrieve his sister Coco’s laptop battery charger, Crash is suddenly transported to a circular room with minor lighting issues. At the room’s center is a hologram of Cortex informing Crash that Dr. Nitrus Brio is the true figure of ultimate scum and villainy in this series and that he plans to create something deadly with the power of the crystals if Crash does not proactively snatch the twenty-five remaining crystals left on Earth. In reality, it’s Cortex that is building a colossal space weapon and needs Crash’s assistance to obtain all of them and fully power his magnificent (in the pejorative sense) new machine. Because Crash’s brain is just as misplaced as his shirt, he complies with Cortex’s demands without question.

Admittedly, the only players who wouldn’t understand the context behind Cortex’s enthralled reaction to seeing a pink crystal are those who experienced this game initially back on its 1997 release date. With decades of hindsight behind us, any current fan of Crash Bandicoot will recognize the franchise’s main collectible in a heartbeat. They might be a valuable source of immense power for the series’ antagonists but in the grand scheme of things, their status as a collectible serves to organize the Crash Bandicoot level structure. You know how Mario exits a level in Super Mario 64 upon obtaining a star, namely the one attached to the vague objective selected in the level’s menu? Well, the crystals similarly signify that a level is nearing its end and is about to be successfully completed. One major difference in Crash 2 is that the linear level design validates Crash’s ejection from said level, for there is little ground left unexplored unlike in the sprawling playgrounds found in Super Mario 64. A warp room exhibits five levels per floor, and Crash accesses the elevator at the center to enter the next series of five levels after the interruption of a boss. The straightaway journey with little to no spatial fracturing that comprised all of the levels in the first game has been scrapped for something that compliments the direct nature of Crash Bandicoot’s levels. Everything is neatly symmetrical and cromulent, unlike the first game which disrupted the progress with a milestone whenever it pleased. Also, earning a crystal per level will sustain a sense of satisfaction by simply surviving to the finish line as opposed to browbeating the player for glossing over the extra mile of breaking every box. Oh, and to everyone’s delight, the player can save their progress any time in each warp room. Hallelujah!

Uninitiated players from 1997 will also be the only ones to scratch their heads at the sight of the female bandicoot nagging Crash at the end of the opening cutscene. Future fans of the Crash series will immediately determine from her overalls and blonde ponytail that this is Coco Bandicoot, Crash’s (younger?) sister who makes her series debut here. You may be wondering if Tawna’s absence in this recreational scene with all the good guys is because she’s been abducted once again, but Crash’s trophy girlfriend has actually been cut indefinitely from the series roster. Pamela Anderson was arguably the most significant sex symbol of the decade in which the PS1 Crash games were released. Since everyone, myself included, has dubbed Tawna as an anthropomorphic doppelganger of the busty, Baywatch babe, a few overseas Sony marketers were distraught that the most popular source of masturbatory fantasies was rendered with fur in a video game whose primary demographic is children. Of course, none of the pure, prepubescent brains playing this game would flare up seeing Tawna at all, so this is really a case of adults projecting their shameful arousal while glancing at their child’s digital pastime. In an effort to retcon this bosomy blunder, Naughty Dog has replaced her conceptual role with an innocent, yet precocious, younger female character with a strictly familial, platonic relationship with Crash who keeps her dumb brother from leading himself astray as the oft-token female character of the series. And I thought the odd Star Wars comparisons ended with Cortex holographically signaling to Crash that he is his only hope. The other non-villain character introduced in Crash 2 that pops up every so often in future releases is the adorable baby ice bear Polar, who Crash rides in a select few ice levels similar to the one warthog level in the first game. He also pays off splendidly in the frosty warp room with ten extra lives when Crash gives him a concussion by repeatedly jumping on his noggin. Leave him alone, Crash! He’s just a boy!

Besides the slew of introductions, an exemplary sequel should strive to rework the preexisting elements of the previous title closer to a standard of accessibility. One may not notice the differences in Crash 2’s gameplay at first glance, but the subtleties will be a total relief once they dawn on them. Navigating Crash’s orange ass through the wild terrain of the Wumpa Islands was rather taxing at times. Surviving anything precision platforming oriented in the first game was determined on what felt like a wing and a prayer thanks to both the stilted controls and the disparities coexisting between running on a 2D horizontal axis in a 3D development plane. Soon enough, the player will detect that Crash has undergone whatever the developer equivalent of physical therapy is because his general movement is as nimble as a newborn rabbit. In fact, Crash feels so spry and lively that he can now perform unprecedented feats of agility. Crash can crawl slowly under tight crevices, bodyslam those sturdier boxes, and skid his feet by sliding like Mega Man. The last maneuver mentioned will be combined frequently with his jump move to soar over gaps like he’s training for the decathlon. Rarely are any of these spirited acrobatics discouraged by the potential risk of Crash accidentally plummeting to his death unless it's truly obvious that a mistake has been made. Quasi-2D sections are implemented into the 3D space minimally as opposed to serving as the basis for a large sum of levels, and the developers have blocked off the awkward pits where slipping could be fatal.

One would think with Cortex teleporting Crash around the world to recover the valuable fuel to his deathly space station that the player will be treated to a geographical odyssey. Alas, all twenty-five of the main levels in Crash 2 seem to be shackled to a selection of specific level themes that persist throughout the game. The five warp rooms will often transport Crash to the untamed jungles, ancient Aztec temples, and chase levels where Crash runs towards the camera from a rolling earth formation as seen in the first game, and these returning level tropes are joined by a bevy of new ones that are sure to overstay their welcome. Crash will go spelunking through sewer systems with branching paths and hazardous electrical wires mixing with the water runoff to shocking effect. Besides the icy levels where Polar gallops like a horse, other levels featuring the Antarctic tundra foreground are free to traverse with Crash by his lonesome. Some levels feature some neat gimmicks such as Crash burrowing underground to evade swarms of bees that make him swell like a balloon animal upon being stung, and the guidance of a particularly radiant species of fireflies illuminating the pathway in total darkness. Still, one can’t help but notice that the foregrounds of these levels essentially boil down to reusing the jungle level motifs. The layout of a given warp room doesn’t signify any semblance of thematic cohesion either. The arctic warp room deviates from offering levels that fit its frosty promises, and it isn’t the only quintet of levels that catapult Crash into areas where he freezes his balls off. It isn’t until the game’s end that there is a noticeable space and factory theme exclusive to the rooftop warp room. Still, two of them involve flying a jetpack through a ventilated space tunnel, and these levels make me want to lynch the man who popularized inverted control schemes.

Even though the level variety on display in Crash 2 isn’t exactly a smorgasbord of creativity, at least the player won’t be tied down to the majority of them for too long. I’ve mentioned previously that saving one’s game in Crash 2 is now free and convenient, akin to using the bathroom in your own home where Crash 1 is like scrambling to find one in public before your bladder explodes. Other instances of quality-of-life improvements are littered aplenty. Crash no longer has to earn access to the bonus rooms by collecting three character tokens. The opportunity to amass wumpa fruits and extra lives in bulk is either beneath saloon doors or a downward plunge, whose locations are symbolized by a question mark. The Nitro Crates that radiate a noxiously green glow accompany the TNT crates as level hazards, and these volatile little boxes should be avoided at all costs. Still, none of them seem to be placed in narrow passages, nor are they strewn about plentifully turning a level into a minefield. Each level is paced accordingly as well. None of the levels are lengthy tests of endurance like “Sunset Vista” that made players beg for sweet release. I suppose the conclusion to arrive at is that Crash 2 is so accommodating that it verges on total ease, especially for returning players. Considering that I am someone of that distinction, I find Crash 2’s lenient difficulty curve to be absolutely pleasant. However, the game does eventually offer a sizable challenge with the two factory levels in the last warp room.

Crash Bandicoot’s bosses can also be brushed off in less than a minute, but returning players already knew that. The colorfully cartoony foes that await Crash to collect the string of crystals to beat him to a pulp are the sole consistency in difficulty this game shares with its predecessor. The contrasting Komodo Brothers pathetically fail to subdue Crash with their scimitar chucking, and the match between the ironically-named Tiny the Tiger is a cakewalk (or saucer walk in this case) because it's a duel of wits instead of physical might. Ripper Roo returns still cackling like a goddamn hyena, only with the newly wild, unkempt long hair and mustache combo like he plays bass in Hawkwind. Again, while I criticize these bosses for not meeting the standard of difficulty with the levels that precede them, I still have to commend them for their diversity and creativity. I adore Cortex’s new right-hand henchman N. Gin by default because I never tire of hearing characters whose voices are impersonations of Hungarian classic Hollywood actor Peter Lorre. His multi-phased mech battle is by far the most engaging and intimidating fight the game offers, but the scope of it is unfortunately diminished by the fact that all it takes for the mech to malfunction is to clog its engines with wumpa fruit. Still, that solution isn’t as stupid as the final fight of Crash 2, which involves nothing but chasing down Cortex through an asteroid belt using the jetpack. Either the player will swat at Cortex three times in a matter of seconds, or the chance to catch the evil little bugger is completely out of reach. This anticlimactic section would only work if it was the second phase of a hypothetical Cortex fight beforehand.

Fortunately, the player has the option to turn Crash 2 into a painful test of one’s patience if they please. Because Cortex is dragging his name through the dirt, N. Brio intercepts the holographic message receptor to warn Crash that Cortex has been manipulating him to be his useful idiot lackey in finishing the construction of what is essentially the Death Star. Coco attempts to convey this vital information to our empty-headed hero sooner to prove her usefulness as a clever aide supporting her brother’s cognitive blind spots, but the reception has been consistently staticky at best. To atone for all the damage he’s inadvertently done, N. Brio suggests that Crash instead gather the gems instead. However, the right path without any guilt and deceit is significantly harder than playing the fool for Cortex. Sure, the player will no longer have to perform pitch-perfect platforming while destroying every crate per level, but this task still isn’t a matter of doing some detective work on the field. A few of the gems in the later portion of the game are found through completing “death routes,” where floating platforms marked with skulls will transport Crash to a 2D platforming section designed similarly to a bonus level. Anyone curious enough to take these alternate routes with the prize of a gem at their finish line will be treated with what are certainly the steepest platforming sections in the entire game. That is if the player stops their completionist commission there. For those who really wish to use N. Brio’s super cannon to blast Cortex’s gaudy space station out of orbit, they’ll have to execute incredibly circuitous backtracking in the death routes with little margin of error to obtain all collectibles possible. Once again, this process becomes the most taxing with the two factory levels in the final warp room. Crash and his friends better just adapt to always seeing Cortex’s gaudy creation lying dormant in the sky like an eclipsing satellite.

I guess this is as good a time as any to reveal to you all my Crash Bandicoot bias. There is more than enough empirical evidence to claim that Crash 2 is leagues above its predecessor in every conceivable way possible. Almost every aspect of the first game is refined to a silky smoothness, including Crash’s mobile dexterity, progression structure, and overall accessibility achieved through its quality-of-life improvements. Both the unexpected ease of Crash 2’s general difficulty and the continued effortless fights with the series’ bosses are, however, not my personal detractors of the series. There is just something about Crash’s simplicity compared to other platformers that keep it away from being lauded in the same respects as the platformer monarchs Crash sought as competition. Call it unpretentiousness in its best-case scenario, but I’ve always been relatively disengaged with its unsophisticated nature. Is it fair to demerit Crash 2 for what it isn’t when it has improved the series remarkably? Crash 2: Cortex Strikes Back is objectively an exemplary 3D platformer, but something still isn't clicking for me.

Grand Theft Auto IV Review

 (Originally published to Glitchwave on 5/3/2024)

[Image from glitchwave.com]

Grand Theft Auto IV

Developer: Rockstar

Publisher: Rockstar

Genre(s): Open-World, Third-Person Shooter

Platforms: Xbox 360, PS3, PC

Release Date: April 29, 2008

Have we all collectively performed a 180 regarding the legacy of Grand Theft Auto IV? At its release, this entry in the chaotic video game series that facilitates every gamer’s darkest, antisocial impulses was welcomed into the Met Gala of gaming on a rolled-out red carpet. After establishing itself as one of the most prolific and influential series across the previous array of video game consoles, how could the rabid gaming consumer base not refrain from salivating at the prospect of a next-generation GTA game? While the 3D open-world template of the series evolved throughout the trilogy of games released for the PS2, plenty of rudimentary presentational sniggles still persisted with the hardware. Grand Theft Auto, along with the open-world genre on the whole, could’ve benefited greatly from being developed on superior pieces of technology because its ambitions transcended the confines that restricted the sixth generation of consoles. With the borderline cinematic framework that the seventh generation’s graphics supplied, the realistic rendering of the citywide bloodbath gamers could commit in a matter of a few minutes would really give everyone’s parents a valid reason (in their minds) to start picketing once again in an attempt to preserve the fading sanctity of childhood innocence. However, one prevalent criticism of GTA IV that only became more pervasive as the years passed is that perhaps the game was bogged down by its attention to cinematic realism. Vice City and San Andreas had established a sense of buoyancy that complemented the free-flowing nature of the open-world genre, and the comparatively subdued graphics and mechanics contradicted the desired evolution that fans had anticipated. Sure, GTA IV was still a colossal hit whose adulation rivaled that of the previous PS2 titles, but the exhilarating fun factor that the PS2 games sought to develop was sort of lost with the developers striving for artistic deliberation. However, the two words at the end of the last sentence are exactly why I’ve come around to lauding GTA IV as a pillar of creative commentary and gaming narrative.

Something that I often harped on pedantically regarding GTA IV from the get-go is the game’s continuation of the numerical titles. Obviously, if you’ve been counting, GTA IV is the sixth entry in the series, and Vice City and San Andreas received far too much widespread critical acclaim and financial success to be relegated to the status of subgames. The validity of the numeral in the title could still be sustained on account of GTA IV being the fourth 3D GTA game, pretending that the primitive first two GTA games evaporated from existence. It could be that every mainline title in the series is connected by the setting of Liberty City, the familiar urban environment that GTA IV has chosen to update with the visual sheen of advanced graphics. Still, how could anyone possibly decipher what real-life urban area the first two GTA games were emulating from a painfully constrictive, 90-degree top-down angle? Really, the pattern that connects GTA IV to its predecessor last used a Roman numeral in its title is the shared pessimistic disposition toward the often romanticized ideal of the American City.

Specifically, GTA IV comments on how it pertains to the fabled “American Dream,” channeling F. Scott Fitzgerald in the 21st century with the same amount of critical venom. Compounding this thesis in GTA IV is how especially fallacious America’s promises are for those migrating to its supposedly lucrative soil as immigrants. Namely, if you’re a thirty-something Serbian man named Niko Bellic, who has just finished his six-month maiden voyage to the land of liberty (relating to the country as well as the city) to start anew. Upon docking the frigate on the offshore Liberty City harbor, Niko is cheerfully greeted by his pudgy, former Serbian immigrant cousin Roman, who drives Niko to his apartment with the rapturous aura of a chariot taking Niko to Shangri-Las. To his dismay, the state of Roman’s compact, cockroach-infested apartment located under the train tracks in the southern region of the borough of Broker is more like Shangri-Lousy, affirming Niko’s suspicions that his cousin was embellishing his American lifestyle and he’s just as much of a doofus as he was in the home country. To magnify the already substandard conditions of Roman’s living space, Roman is steeped in debt to the locally operated Russian mob thanks to his frequent gambling habits. Not only does American life not come with the privileges of “Barbara with big titties and Stephanie who sucks like a vacuum,” the constant prying eyes of organized crime place a looming cloud of danger over the heads of these two Slavic cousins. Niko’s honest assessment of the circumstances he finds himself in Liberty City is that they are not too dissimilar to that of his homeland, except that he assumes that he at least won’t have to duck and cover due to a midnight bombing. Roman’s crappy American existence being plopped onto Niko as a welcoming gift only scratches the surface of the disappointment he is about to endure.

But Liberty City isn’t necessarily indicative of the entirety of the land of the free and the brave, nor is it Rockstar’s mirrored microcosm of the country displayed in a fully fabricated, end-all American urban environment. Players of GTA III tended to jot down contextual hints that Liberty City was Rockstar’s rendering of New York City due to it sharing some stark similarities in its fractured, multi-burrough architecture and generally smoggy, congested city atmosphere associated with America’s most populated metropolitan area. Rockstar never explicitly stated that Liberty City in GTA III was a polygonal parody of The Big Apple but upon inspecting the layout and topography of GTA IV’s map, they no longer have to. Narrowing the scope of the game’s setting to a singular city after exhibiting a grand tour of notable West Coast zip codes in San Andreas might seem like a regression unfitting for GTA IV’s newfound, next-generational capabilities. However, I must impress on the full scope of this map’s full ambitions: Liberty City is now a bonafide recreation of New York City to every last minute detail. If calling it an exact replica is too hyperbolic, then it's at least the most realistic and intricate depiction of New York City seen in gaming thus far. At the beginning of the story, Niko is restricted to a rough amalgamation of the Long Island twin boroughs of Brooklyn and Queens sandwiched together as the borough of Broker, with the Coney Island Ferris wheel and wooden roller coaster as prominent backdrops from the street view of Roman’s apartment. Once Niko and Roman are forced to flee Roman’s humble abode in Hove Beach, the player will receive a taste of the northern industrial borough of The Bronx as Bohan, and then the voluminous glow at the heart of the city with Manhattan repurposed as Algonquin. The suburban Staten Island should’ve ideally rounded out all five boroughs here but was swapped in favor of bridging Algonquin to the adjacent state of Alderney. Whether it be the isolation, relative insignificance, or an inspirational nod to The Sopranos, it must sting for Staten Island residents to see their legitimate slice of New York life get axed to instead exhibit an area modeled after Jersey City. Still, the meticulous mapping of the metropolitan area arguably the most synonymous with American urbanity is undoubtedly a substantial leap in evolutionary feats for the open-world genre. Some will bemoan the fact that the entire city is shrouded in that dour graphical haze that permeated throughout the seventh generation of gaming. However, how GTA IV uses this aesthetic exudes the cold atmosphere similar to GTA III’s depiction of Liberty City, so I’ll take it as an example of an artistic choice rather than hopping on a trend. What exactly are the developers suggesting about NYC with this continually glum aura, though?

I still don’t think I’ve fully elucidated the extent of Rockstar’s efforts to recreate New York City for GTA IV’s world map. For those who have never visited or are completely unaware, New York City exhibits such a confounding amount of hustle and bustle that it has been dubbed “the city that never sleeps.” One can infer from the city’s perpetual state of insomnia that its cacophonous vibrancy is ceaseless, and therefore will always prove to be an overwhelming setting to exist in. Even for those who comfortably live amongst the neverending soundscape of chatter and the honking of car horns, none of them are willing to contend with the rat race of its street traffic. There’s a reason why every New York resident has thigh muscles made of steel and or a storybook of bizarre encounters on the subway. Even the zen patience threshold of a devout Buddhist monk would snap like a twig amid the non-stop wall-to-wall congestion of vehicles. Because the name of the game is Grand Theft Auto and not Grand Theft MetroPass, Niko is forced to become another brick sealed into the stiff cement of traffic. Not only is avoiding head-on vehicular collisions much more difficult than in any previous GTA game, but New York’s street schematics are anything but straightforward. Navigating through any of these boroughs more serpentine than a dragon’s small intestinal tract is a dizzying escapade liable to drive the player mad. Not to mention, GTA IV’s driving mechanics have been adulterated by the game’s realism initiative, buttering the controls that inflict realistic, dire consequences to those who drive erratically like a GTA game would normally warrant. Apparently, seatbelts are also a foreign concept to our Serbian protagonist as well, so get ready to witness Niko violently ejecting himself from the driver’s seat when hitting another car as an example of the game’s ragdoll-intensive physics engine. As frustratingly complicated and frankly dangerous the roads are for the player, their design emulates the hectic drive of New York City as genuinely as possible. I’d claim that this facet of realism is too imposing on the game’s enjoyment factor because I started to dread getting behind the wheel when every island borough was unlocked and each trip required crossing a bevy of bridges to venture between them. However, the developers show some awareness that driving through NYC is admittedly excruciating and provides innovative conveniences like the modern GPS tool that directs Niko to his waypoint objective and the ability to catch a taxi cab. Still, I must remind everyone what the name of this game is and how this map discourages players from engaging in it.

If the core gameplay of Grand Theft Auto isn’t literally snatching vehicles for joyrides, one could argue that it's the third-person shooting gameplay that facilitates the franchise’s freewill imperative. Across the 3D PS2 trilogy, the gunplay had improved from unwaveringly clumsy in GTA III to a point of sharper efficiency with the requisite addition of the target system in Vice City and San Andreas. Still, defending oneself with the protagonist’s roulette of firearms always required them to expose themselves to the firepower from the enemy’s opposition. Years later during the next console generation, the ubiquity of ducking behind cover among games in the third-person shooter genre most likely caused a lightbulb to appear over the heads of the developers at Rockstar. During missions that involve Niko being pinned down by various goons in an alleyway or building complex, he is the first GTA protagonist who can take advantage of shielding himself behind a pillar or a vertical grounded structure and conduct business from a relatively safe position with the press of a single controller button. Of course, enemy AI wisely recognizes that they can also use the cover that the environment organically provides, so combat during these sections tends to divert into a tense waiting game. Once one of these moles briefly peaks its head above the barrier to aim their weapon at Niko, this opportune moment allows the player to practice the nifty augmentation to the targeting system. Upon locking onto a target, the cursor can now move slightly to hone in on a specific piece of anatomy. Needless to say, enemies are likely to falter much quicker due to the greater assurance of executing headshots. Enemies will also stagger vigorously even if Niko’s shot wasn’t fatal because realism begets writhing in pain upon one’s flesh being pierced by hot lead. The ragdoll physics that cause enemies to stumble and fall upon being shot not only provide instances of physical comedy but they’re indicative of how agreeable the overall combat is in the player’s favor after taking too severe a risk by standing out in the open like a sitting duck for three straight games.

It’s most fortunate that the GTA series has finally honed its shooting gameplay to a point of comfortable competency because the vast majority of the game’s missions will involve Niko being catapulted into these perilous situations. Because absconding to America hasn’t automatically granted Roman the “Life of Riley,” his financial outlet to support his meager living is managing a taxi cab company operated out of Broker, which Niko assumed he would work at as his cousin’s subordinate. However, the constant harassment towards Roman by Russian mafia lieutenant, Vlad Glebov, allows Niko to earn a living the GTA way: climbing up the crime world ladder by stacking a body count. However, Vlad’s bullying towards Roman crosses the line when he starts making sexual advances toward Roman’s girlfriend and secretary Mallorie, and Niko permanently subdues him for his lecherous behavior and simply for being a repugnant human being overall. Niko’s actions here absorb his employment to Vlad’s crime boss: the irascible, volatile Mikhail Faustin who commands Niko to kill on command with disturbingly little consideration. Faustin’s right-hand man, Dimitri Rascalov, eventually has Niko return the favor of mindless murder to their boss after his tyrannical power streak goes too far, killing a rival mob boss's son in cold blood. However, Dimitri’s true motivations for what seemed like a debilitating, yet dutiful decision was to usurp the crime throne for himself and launch a full-scale manhunt for Niko’s head in the interest of friend and business associate Ray Bulgarin, a former employer of Niko back in Europe who seeks revenge after fingering Niko for a coincidental cargo freight mishap. After Dimitri sets Roman’s home and business ablaze, the cousin’s refuge in Bohan allows Niko to become acquainted with some of Mallorie’s neighbors. Poser philanthropist Manny, Catalina’s spiritual successor Elizabeta along with her prime drug peddler Playboy X, and Irish criminal Patrick “Packie” McReary, all provide Niko with work committing acts of ultraviolence so he can sustain livability in Liberty City. The last character mentioned even introduces Niko to his (literal) crime family with their own story arc, which eventually leads Niko to work for the Italian Mafia. The Italians are also at war with the Russians over control of the city’s organized crime, and Niko gladly sides with them as an outlet to stick it to Dimitri for causing him and Roman so much strife.

What I’m trying to illustrate by detailing Niko’s journey through Liberty City’s illegal underbelly is that no matter who is assigning Niko odd jobs, they will involve Niko barricading himself behind sheet metal or solid concrete to deflect the whizzing bullets from a small army of enemies on most occasions. However, I can confidently state that once Niko progressively shifts to another employer, the game naturally increases its difficulty curve. The legions of armed goons Niko tackles when servicing Elizabeta are more formidable than the ones he’s hired on to kill for Faustin, and the same rate of increase applies to when Niko starts to mow down suited thugs for the mafia. The fluctuating difficulty curve that all three GTA games on the PS2 practically etched into the open-world code through habitual persistence is rearranged into something neatly structured. Exceptions that disrupt GTA IV’s harmonious flow pop up now and then, and my pick for the steepest mission is when Dimitri kidnaps Roman as bait to lure Niko into an abandoned warehouse guarded by at least fifty of his cronies. The bank heist mission with Packie and his family is the notorious pick for most players, but I argue that they are conflating difficulty with the length of the mission. San Andreas was littered with feats of endurance similar to GTA IV’s bank heist, but a mission of this caliber seems excessive in GTA IV because the game’s missions are tied down to a cinematic construct. Between the commonplace duck and cover missions, GTA IV often features shorter missions with only one objective to further the plot. I’d normally decry these types of missions as nothing but lazy filler, but the character preambles before each mission are consistently entertaining. In fact, GTA IV’s writing is so razor-sharp that it distracts the player from noticing when the mission objectives start to blur together. Still, whether or not a mission asks for considerable effort from the player or to complete a cursory task, GTA IV is far easier than any of its PS2 predecessors. Forward aim while shooting in a vehicle, body armor having distinctive attributes removed from one’s health, and only losing a sum of money upon death as opposed to stripping the protagonist of their entire arsenal also greatly factor into GTA IV’s agreeableness.

If you’re feeling like your engagement with GTA IV’s missions is starting to wane, the game offers a plethora of momentary distractions as par for the open-world course. Similar to Call of Duty around the same time, GTA recognized that there are certain perks to modernity. The developers could implement fresh features that extend the parameters of the player’s total activities as technology progresses in the real world, no longer having anachronisms to be mindful of while developing a period piece. Because GTA IV is set in the late 2000s when the game was developed, Niko owns a fully functional, customizable cell phone with a digital screen and camera. It goes without saying that this device is far more practical and accessible than that brick with an antenna CJ was lugging around the state of San Andreas. Another aspect of the then-current technological landscape is the addition of internet cafes, rows of computers available at all times of day for a small fee of one dollar per visit. Here, Niko can sift through emails, look at car listings, and even interact with strange women on a primeval dating site before such platforms took the world by storm. It’s just a shame that all of these technological advancements implemented in the GTA universe are just as endearingly antiquated as the intentionally quaint facets of the retro culture showcased in both Vice City and San Andreas as of writing this review. Fortunately, GTA IV also features new “timeless” activities, for lack of a better word. Minigames unseen in any prior GTA game include pool, darts, and bowling, whose mechanics are all at least competent enough to win a majority of the time. Niko can visit the city’s various watering holes to drink himself stupid, which then can result in a drunk driving sequence if he hops back into the vehicle he arrived in. If I’m not mistaken, this specific element of GTA IV’s gameplay garnered the biggest backlash from irate parents, who protested that the ability to drive while intoxicated somehow topped all immoral activities one could partake in across the series. With some perspective, it could also serve as a cheap simulation to teach younger gamers how affected one’s ability to drive is while under the influence, but I digress. The coolest new addition for my money is going to a comedy club, for both Ricky Gervais and Katt Williams essentially perform an exclusive set for the game in a motion capture suit. Helicopters have totally overtaken jets and commercial planes as the flying vehicles to jack due to the sensitivities of a certain event that occurred in NYC earlier that decade, and the strip clubs are more immersive thanks to the upscaled visuals. Don’t worry, Niko still isn’t allowed to touch the strippers wearing nipple tassels in the backroom, so another “Hot Coffee” minigame moral panic isn’t necessary (discounting how realistic the sex looks with the prostitutes now).

These frivolous activities aren’t solely offered to let the pent-up and guarded Niko unwind. Rockstar is apparently a firm believer in the “the more the merrier” sentiment, and they convey this theory through another new overarching, optional mechanic. From time to time, Roman will ring up Niko while he’s out on the town if he’d like to engage in one of the aforementioned activities with him. If Niko complies and nothing goes horribly awry during the outing, Roman will express his satisfaction by giving Niko a “thumbs up” which increases his “friendship meter.” As the game progresses, Niko will extend his cellular number to other people whose relationships can be strengthened through spending time with them. Niko merely tolerates the brash adrenaline junkie Brucie for Roman’s sake, as he combats Brucie’s obnoxious posturing with comments on how it's all compensation to mask his deepest insecurities. Niko rather gels nicely with level-headed pot-dealing rasta man “Little Jacob” whose thick Jamaican verbiage eludes even the subtitles. The pessimistic attitude of ex-con Playboy X associate Dwayne practically makes him a kindred spirit to Niko. The crass, ill-tempered Packie is the only McCreary brother to join Niko outside of business hours, but his younger sister Kate is a dateable character who catches Niko’s affections. The date-oriented outings function the same as hangouts with the bros, with the only difference being that Niko can press his luck for some hanky panky upon completing the date. However, Kate’s adulthood chastity streak practically makes her eligible for nunhood, but there are plenty of other girls who will fuck Niko’s brains out after an enjoyable evening. Michelle is a girlfriend given to Niko automatically to test the waters of this new mechanic, who perhaps submits herself to Niko too quickly that it verges on suspicion. If there is one feature of GTA IV that is infamously derided, it’s definitely this one. Sure, spending time with mates is an ideal facet of a prosperous life that increases the immersion into reality that the series has always sought to emulate. However, if one’s friends are as needy and entitled as the ones in Niko's contact list, I’d rather live as a lone wolf. Again, these interactions are optional, and maxing one’s relationship to Niko does come with legitimate benefits. Still, it’s not as if Niko can turn his phone off to halt the incessant phone calls from these select people, which always seems to occur whenever Niko is nearing the start of a new mission. What infuriates me the most about these distracting little excursions is that every friend insists that Niko chauffeur them, and they actually have the fucking gall to complain if he’s a smidge tardy. I apologize, but I thought Niko was the new kid in town who isn’t privy to Liberty City’s perpetual ongoings. What city do they think this is? Wichita? Perhaps to make this mechanic less grating, Rockstar should’ve taken note of Persona’s social links and let Niko have sole control of who he hangs out with and when rather than being bombarded with requests at inopportune moments.

Even though they can be annoyingly inconsiderate, I still enjoy spending time with these secondary characters in GTA IV. Each of them exhibits unique personality traits with a dynamic and personable aura that heightens their charisma, and the less likable ones (Brucie) at least offer consistent amusement. Still, all of them are as lifeless as mall mannequins compared to the Niko tree that they all branch from. On paper, Niko is yet another example of an archetypal protagonist serving as the focal point of a wild, high-octane crime story. He’s another useful idiot in the crime world whose livelihood is contingent on obeying the assassination tasks given to him by the scum of society with no questions asked. One could initially write Niko off as another murderous sociopath with little consciousness of his actions, but Niko is surprisingly more complicated than calculus with layers of richness stacked higher than a red velvet wedding cake. Like CJ, Niko is a product of his environment but is far more aware of how his unfortunate upbringing affected him. Besides the fact that his formative years were spent in a third-world country where he lived without electricity until he was twelve, Niko is among the generation of post-soviet youths to unwillingly participate as soldiers in the Yugoslav Wars of the early 1990s once the nation of Yugoslavia dissolved into six sovereign countries. He might not have sustained any mortal injuries during this tumultuous era of Eastern Europe’s history, but the atrocities he witnessed and was forced to commit were abominable enough to permanently fracture his soul. Anytime Niko waxes poetic about his experiences, namely in the scene where he discusses them with Faustin’s wife or when he reveals what really happened to Roman’s mother, I feel as if an anvil has plummeted on my stomach and I’m about to be sick. Because the war has irreparably scarred Niko, a thick callousness to all amoral human behavior has coated his persona. This is how he thinks nothing of performing deplorable tasks for money, and why he laughs in the face of any adversary’s intimidation tactics. Niko’s been through the wringer, and he’s come out of it as spiritually broken as a glass menagerie after an earthquake. Yet, despite his nihilistic disposition, Niko is known to exhibit signs of compassion towards others. While Roman’s oblivious optimism often irks Niko, he would never compromise his thick and thin, brotherly loyalty to his cousin for any profit. He’s friendly towards those who do not antagonize him, and he’s probably more honest than any of America’s notable presidents whose legacy is defined by that positive character trait. See how lovingly Niko treats the heroin-addicted teenage girl Marnie encountered during a “stranger mission” despite her hostility and pathetic desperation and tell me with a straight face that Niko isn’t an upstanding citizen given the right circumstances. With all of the blood that he regularly spills during the missions stacked against him, I guess no one can definitively say. Yet, this quandary caused by character complexities is exactly why Niko is bar none GTA’s greatest protagonist. Also, Niko’s dry wit he consistently brandishes while bantering with any secondary character makes him the funniest GTA protagonist as well. Sorry, CJ. The bar set by the emotionless Claude was buried under the sea floor at the start, but Niko skyrockets the standard of GTA protagonists over the moon. He’s going to be a tough act to follow.

While most players sympathize with Niko and grant him positive merits as a human being, his true incentive for coming to America is one marked by vengeance. After dumping Vlad’s body into the harbor, Niko reveals to Roman that the real reason for shipping off overseas is to enact revenge on one of his old Serbian friends during the war who sold his platoon out for a sum of money. Niko was one of three survivors of the ensuing massacre, and he figures that the possible perpetrator of the unforgivable betrayal now lives somewhere in Liberty City. Niko’s goal is sidelined until “Michelle,” who unsurprisingly reveals herself to be a federal agent after a miserably bad performance while “undercover,” intercepts Elizabeta’s cocaine raid. Elizabeta will never see the light of day, but Niko is given an ultimatum to cooperate with a disguised intelligence unit to avoid jail time or deportation. For his efforts, working with UL Paper shows their gratitude by locating the man Niko is seeking. However, Florian Cravic, a flamboyantly gay man who legally changed his name to Bernie Crane, is not the man Niko is looking for. It’s really hard to believe that this guy shares the same harrowing experiences as Niko, to be frank. By process of elimination, Niko figures that the culprit is Darko Brevic, and Niko must get involved with a topsy-turvy diamond racket for the Italian Alderney City mafia. Eventually, they perform that favor for Niko and fish the European vermin out of whatever hole he resides in and must answer to Niko for his sins. In this moment, Niko can choose whether to cathartically execute Darko, or spare the pathetic junkie wastrel who has managed to carve out a worse fate than death for himself.

This arc-fulfilling moment, along with several other instances beforehand, highlights that life is a series of choices of one’s own volition. Besides deciding whether or not to put Darko out of his misery, which leaves Niko empty inside anyway, providing critical options to the player that affect the outcome of the story is immediately granted again in the game’s final mission. Niko evidently forgot to give the Italian mafia a two-week notice of resignation because as far as mob boss Jimmy Pegorino is concerned, he’s still on the family’s payroll. Niko refuses to adhere to Pegorino’s demands on principle, but the other factor of working with his arch nemesis Dimitri makes this deal out of the question. However, the game lets the player choose between the two outcomes of Niko’s predicament: to defy Pegorino or to swallow his laurels and cut a deal with Dimitri for the sake of his employer. Given that the mere mention of Dimitri’s name causes Niko to erupt in a fiery rage, I realize it's nonsensical for him to engage with the borscht-eating scoundrel professionally. However, the route where Niko lowers his guard to Dimitri leads to the only sensical outcome that puts a period on this story. Dimitri will still screw Niko over and cut him and the mafia out of the profitable heroin deal. To further show that this man has no limits to his duplicity, he hires a hitman to shoot Niko during Roman and Mallorie’s wedding reception. Roman is accidentally shot and killed instead, which lights a furious fire under Niko’s feet to finally pursue Dimitri and bring him to justice. With Little Jacob’s assistance, Niko shoots down Dimitri’s escape chopper and delivers the finishing blow to him on the islet where the “Statue of Happiness” landmark resides. If Niko instead plans to kill Dimitri on the ship that Niko arrived in at the very beginning of the game, Pegorino takes it upon himself to perform a drive-by shooting for Niko’s insubordination and Kate dies instead. Pegorino is swapped for Dimitri in this instance.

Besides the fact that killing Pegorino is fairly anticlimactic and Niko’s relationship with Kate is budding and uncertain, Roman’s death is the sensible outcome between the two potential tragedies that end GTA IV. Not only was Roman a central character as soon as Niko’s boat docked, but he’s the optimistic ying to Niko’s despairing yang. While both characters live in the same unideal situation, Roman embraces every bit of his life with little to no complaints. Roman adores the opportunities that living in America has given him even if they don’t match the ecstasy of excess. He expresses to Niko that he should adopt the same attitude not only to make the expedition here worth the effort but to truly shed the crushing weight of his Serbian past. Throughout the game, Niko has only allowed his past to shape his present, which has only resulted in more baggage with fatal repercussions. Once Roman has been ousted from Niko’s life as a result of his actions, he fully submits to Roman’s optimistic ideals and quits the crime life for good. As much as Roman was depicted as a bumbling fool for the entirety of the game, his outlook is surprisingly the wisest way to interpret the American ideal. This nation can’t entitle you to excellence, but it will at least give anyone the chance to alter the conditions of your life for a more promising tomorrow.

The three GTA games on the PS2 were the cutting edge of video game advancements, so much so that they all suffered from biting off more than their hardware could chew to some extent. Now that a succeeding generation could prosper with those games as a template, I can empathize with the prevailing disappointment that piled onto GTA IV. Unlike the previous games that astounded gamers because they were before their time, GTA IV is a product of its time and all-pervading peculiarities of the era. Given that I’ve been known to vocally disparage many seventh-generation practices and that GTA IV is rife with them, I should persist in lambasting this entry. However, Rockstar manages to grasp all of the aspects of this era of gaming I find unsavory and cultivate them into something surprisingly masterful. There isn’t a single space of land in Liberty City that is wasted, and the writers have written a story of the same spellbinding magnitude as the Martin Scorsese films and HBO crime dramas of where its inspiration stems. I still find some elements of GTA IV to be more objectionable than in San Andreas, and some are so jarring that I don’t care if it's for the sake of artistic integrity. Still, how many triple-A developers are willing to alienate some of the gaming audience to fulfill their desired vision for their work? Not too many, I presume. I tip my hat to thee, Rockstar.

Super Smash Bros. for Wii U Review

 (Originally published to Glitchwave on 4/27/2024)

[Image from igdb.com]

Super Smash Bros. for Wii U

Developer: Sora, Bandai Namco

Publisher: Nintendo

Genre(s): Fighting

Platforms: Wii U

Release Date: November 21, 2014

A surge of existentialism washed over me when I first played the fourth Super Smash Bros. title during its release date back on November 21, 2014. I’ve commented in my reviews of the previous Smash Bros. games that every entry stamps a milestone of Nintendo’s history since the previous title was released on the former Nintendo console. Of course, six-and-a-half years since the release of Brawl on the Wii isn’t just a lengthy swathe of time reserved for Nintendo to advance their IPs and introduce new ones. Time is a constant that alters the circumstances of the world for everyone. Back in March of 2008 when Brawl finally saw the light of day, I was but a pre-teen boy in the sixth grade, the perfect age demographic to anticipate the next Super Smash Bros to the point where it was infiltrating my dreams. When the fourth Smash Bros. game emerged to represent the Wii’s successor on the aforementioned date in my first sentence, I was 18, almost 19, nearing the Thanksgiving break portion of my first semester of college. I became a legal adult that year and realized how my time as a teenager had all but passed since Brawl became an encapsulating source of joy as a twelve-year-old. My pubescent years were formative to how I perceived the world. I was a completely different person when Smash 4 came out, and the prominent sense of cynicism I had adopted during the growing pains of adolescence had affected my gaming habits. For two years of high school, until I graduated, I practically left the gaming world behind in favor of indulging in other interests of mine such as music and film. My intention in sharing this revelation is that I assumed that Nintendo’s brand had evolved at the same rate of rapidity as my life. New releases from Nintendo hadn’t been a concern of mine since I purchased an Xbox 360 in 2009 and joined my friends in the expletive-filled trenches of online gaming and Nintendo Power became a glad-hand, corporate shill of its former self. Upon playing Smash 4, I expected that I’d be alienated by all of the new Nintendo content the game would be highlighting and that playing it would serve as an educational tool for all that was trendy with Nintendo. Sadly enough, Smash 4 rather conveyed to me that poor Nintendo was experiencing a dry spell and only a crumb of the content represented was unfamiliar to me. Still, at this point, Nintendo could supplement their fallow streak of tepid splashes in the gaming zeitgeist by scrounging up a wider array from gaming’s past.

Can I just take a moment to express my utter disgust at the fourth entry’s name? Instead of continuing the pattern of finding synonyms for melee to convey how rambunctious the bouts between Nintendo’s characters are, the developers opted for a god-awful pun that will never hesitate to make my tongue shudder upon saying it. I’d snarkily ask how hard it is to find a thesaurus (quarrel, skirmish; I’d be over the hill if the game was called Super Smash Bros. Donnybrook.), but really; I admit that “Smash 4…” may be an appropriate title from a practical standpoint. The corny wordplay is actually used to differentiate between the console release of Smash 4 on the Wii U and the handheld version of the game on the 3DS. Yes, Smash 4’s greatest point of innovation is that one finally could kick the shit out of Sonic as Mario (or vice versa) while on their morning commute, during a hearty bowel movement, or if they’re feeling reasonably antisocial around a family reunion. In the time that I had turned my head away from Nintendo, what astounded me when I shifted my gaze back was that a handheld system could competently support a Super Smash Bros. game in its three-dimensional splendor. As novel as a mobile Smash Bros. game is, I ultimately decided on the console version because the impetus to purchase every subsequent Nintendo console is based entirely on its Super Smash Bros. entry (for me at least). That’s why the Wii U version is also going to serve as the base for this review. While sticking with the blocky piece of hardware that is confined to a home television isn’t as hip or convenient, rendering any game on a console as opposed to a handheld is always going to come with a few nifty perks. For one, Smash 4 on the Wii U is the first game in the series depicted in glossy HD, truly a landmark feature that ushers it into the modern age of gaming. Obviously, high definition helps all of the characters we adore shine like diamonds, especially since Brawl had adopted that murkier shade that seemingly plagued every game in its generation. On top of that, the developers decided not to let the natural 720p visual fidelity simply speak for itself, as they rendered Smash 4’s graphics with cel-shading. Like with most video games rendered in this animated aesthetic, Smash 4 looks lively and effervescent. One cannot discern every seam of Mario’s overalls anymore, but applying a realistic graphical tint to a game revolving around a collective of Nintendo’s cartoonish characters duking it out was always a misguided decision on Brawl’s part.

But the charming, buoyant visuals are but a mere perk of Smash 4. I think it goes without saying that the core aspect of Super Smash Bros. that causes fans to hyperventilate is the prospect of who is going to join the Smash Bros. roster among Nintendo’s revered cabinet of characters. As far as broadening the representation of a franchise that already exists within the Smash Bros. canon, everyone could figure that Mario and Pokemon would again be the highest priority for another character stimulus. Fan favorite fully evolved water starter Greninja from the (then) latest iteration of Pokemon games will now swiftly swing past unsuspecting combatants with his slippery, amphibian reflexes akin to the Japanese agents of ninjutsu his name alludes to. For Mario, Super Mario Galaxy offers its entry exclusive; the mother of the cosmos Rosalina, who is accompanied by one of her squishy Luma guardians she can use as an accessory for long-range damage. Technically, the implementation of the Koopalings hovering around in their mechanized clown cars as skins for Bowser’s legitimate son, Bowser Jr., swells Mario’s representation and the total roster with EIGHT characters. To my surprise, the preexisting franchise that exports (technically) its characters as prominently as Nintendo’s top-earning captains is Fire Emblem. If what was a Japanese-exclusive series merely represented in Melee as a lark or an eastern brag has surpassed its obscure status and has been promoted to an executive position among the likes of Mario and Pokemon in the time I was estranged from Nintendo, five total representatives in Smash Bros. seems like enough logical evidence to infer it. Anyways, the gender-neutral sorcerer Robin revels in summoning elemental spells to damage foes from a distance, while Lucina is essentially a gender-swapped Marth. I groan at the continued influx of clone characters seeping into Smash Bros. after I thought they had learned their lesson from Melee. Dr. Mario’s significant footnote as the first returning character to Smash 4 after a one-game absence conveys that they’ve learned absolutely nothing. At least Dark Pit, the edgy, mirror image foil to Kid Icarus’s protagonist, Pit, offers a noticeable level of variation on the saintly original. Speaking of Kid Icarus, the fully-characterized goddess Lady Palutena from Uprising extends the presence of her series as well, now that a new entry has given the series more than one personable character in the first place.

The slew of new characters that are bound to generate more excitement are ones that represent a deferred Nintendo IP, and the ones that the developers have chosen to further highlight their illustrious history range from essential to…interesting. The first trailer for Smash 4 saw a male villager from Animal Crossing snatching up Mario in his bug-catching net, and the representative from Nintendo’s homespun simulation series can be adjusted to several other shades of the avatar if the base male doesn’t fit your fancy. I can’t imagine anyone clamoring for a reminder of Nintendo’s whole peripheral fitness craze that came with the casual audience of the Wii, yet both the anemic male and female Wii Fit Trainer is here to pump you up and remind you to stretch your calf muscles. Representatives dug up from Nintendo’s archives are the plucky Little Mac from Punch-Out, as well as a combination of a familiar basset hound attached to a mallard as a combined duo called “Duck Hunt.” Shulk from Xenoblade Chronicles seems to be the sole representative from a franchise that debuted during the timespan between Brawl and Smash 4’s development, and his status as a proper Nintendo brand figure is debatable.

While digging deeper into Nintendo’s vault for some fresh faces is neat, Brawl showcased an exhilarating evolutionary aspect of the series by including Sonic and Solid Snake. The category of characters that fans expressed the greatest excitement for were the potential third-party gets, and Smash 4 has acquired two that rival the reputability of the ones from Brawl. Nintendo’s partnership with Bandai Namco for the task of developing Smash 4 practically calls for their mascot, Pac-Man, to enter the fray, and the 3D iteration seen in Pac-Man World is the choice depiction for the seminal, pie-shaped glutton. One of my wishlist characters, Mega Man, is the other gaming icon visiting from beyond the Nintendo pond, and his inclusion is the one announcement that sparked ecstatic feelings within me. I’m glad that Nintendo and Capcom have let bygones be bygones (look up “the Capcom five” for a quick laugh) and settled on an agreement to let their robot boy out to play, who is a requisite third-party pick as far as I’m concerned.

Because the roster is gargantuan at this point, Smash 4 unfortunately had to trim down some selections from the roster. The licensing rights for Solid Snake evidently expired, the afterthought of Wolf to include another villain wasn’t expanded upon, and the saddest omission is the Ice Climbers due to some technical discrepancies in the 3DS version. How else are the couple going to pay the bills if they’ve been axed from Smash Bros.? Deleting the trio of pokemon commanded by a Pokemon Trainer has been slimmed down to a solo Charizard, which is a commendable shift on all fronts. One might be wondering why I’ve neglected to mention a missing Lucas, who is probably absent so Nintendo can backpedal and create a Mandela effect for American audiences knowledgeable of Mother 3’s existence. The reality is that he’s merely unavailable on the base roster. Another innovation Smash 4 debuts is expanding the total number of playable characters beyond the confines of in-game unlockables to the realm of DLC, and Lucas soon became purchasable as supplemental content for a small fee. Suspending the brief absence of Lucas is certainly relieving, but I was really jazzed when the DLC granted both Mewtwo and Roy a second wind after I expected them to be indefinite Melee exclusives. But let’s be real here: the full potency of DLC is not limited to resurrecting old fighters. The possibilities of DLC content that made every fan erect with anticipation was the prospect of doubling, no, tripling the number of third-party characters. Firstly, Smash Bros. was practically the only crossover fighting series that Ryu from Street Fighter was denied entry from up until this point, so he’s a shoo-in. Cloud from Final Fantasy VII and “Dante in drag,” aka Bayonetta, are certainly bound to shock and awe. Concerning the unorthodox foreign guests invited to the shindig via DLC, I mentioned when speaking on Brawl that Nintendo seemed to neglect the movesets of both Sonic and Snake comparatively to their own flesh and blood IPs. Considering Cloud’s super move meter that the player can manually charge and Bayonetta’s slow motion counter maneuver with an incredibly long window of sluggishness for those entrapped, the developers overcompensated and put some serious juggernauts for Nintendo’s characters to watch out for. Oh, and I guess adding the therianthropic dragon Corrin also made for a neat DLC purchase, even if it means that Smash 4 will be bursting at the seams with Fire Emblem representatives.

The developers thought that both versions of Smash 4 sharing the exact amount of characters was an inalienable factor that should bond the two. Regarding the stages, however, the selections couldn’t have been any more dissimilar. Unfortunately, I think the Wii U version received the short end of the stick with its new stages. No, the Wii U version does not suffer because the developers proposed to create stages “based on console-related games” and “handheld titles” for each version respectively. Where the enhanced graphical power of a fully-fledged home console is a blessing for the Wii U version, the developer’s inability to restrain themselves from crafting stages that flaunt the superior hardware equally amounts to a curse. The majority of Smash 4’s stages on the Wii U are a collective of the busiest, bothersome, and bombastic 2D fighting arenas across the entire series. Firstly, a select few stages in Smash 4 bring out a colossal, antagonistic character related to the series the stage stems from, and their presence has designated their arenas as “boss stages.” Ridley, Metal Face, and my arch nemesis, The Yellow Devil, will join the player who tests their might in their domain like a yappy little mutt submitting to the alpha dog who bites them on the nape of the neck. Beneficial as these bosses can be, I can’t think of anything more distracting or unfair than an outlying contender introducing themselves with neutral stakes in the battle at hand. They supersede the element of a regular stage hazard to the point where they eclipse the bout entirely, and no one signs up for Smash Bros. to fight giant NPCs like its Monster Hunter. This isn’t to say that the other stages introduced in Smash 4 don’t include features that will prove fatal if the player isn’t fearfully cautious. The WarioWare-inspired stage “Gamer” emulates a common sensation of staying up past one’s bedtime as a child to covertly play games or engage in some other activity while the tension of being caught by a parental figure looms overhead. The arena is the room of the hyperactive video game savant 9-Volt, but the fighters are the ones who pay for his disobedience. His mother’s watchful gaze will stun anyone in its sight and deal out an inordinate amount of damage. The “Peckish Aristocrab” is sure to knock the block off of any contacting fighter in “Garden of Hope,” and the eclectic array of Pokemon types found in the “Kalos Pokemon League” will inconvenience everyone with their elemental abilities. As fervent as the opposition towards scrolling stages as the Smash Bros community has vocally expressed, the pervasive complaints have not halted the production of them for future Smash Bros. releases. I didn’t mind the scrolling stages in Melee, but now I regret not standing valiantly with my Smash brethren to protest Poke Floats and Icicle Mountain when they were relevant. Their scrolling stage offspring featured here in Smash 4 is significantly worse, unchecked by the developers as if they are totally unaware of how maligned these types of stages really are. PAC-Land is a faithful depiction of the arcade game of its namesake, but the journey through the three levels doesn’t exactly gel with the flow of combat in a fighting game. Likewise, taking the player on a grand tour of a Star Fox level in “Orbital Gate Assault” is fine and dandy rendered in the rail shooter genre, but the extreme firepower of an ongoing space battle encompassing both the foregrounds and background of the stage practically makes surviving the stage the objective. A Smash Bros. depiction of “The Great Cave Offensive” hides all pretenses of glorified stage gimmicks as the first legitimate novelty stage. Still, one doesn’t have to settle for Punch-Out’s “Boxing Ring” or the curved “Mario Galaxy” for a fight with no distractions to speak of. Somehow, the new implementation of the “omega stages” displays an understanding from the developers that Smash Bros. fans simply wish to duke it out on a still platform suspended over oblivion with a Smash Bros. franchise theme in the background as a wallpaper.

I didn’t make the correlation between Sakurai’s relationship with Kid Icarus: Uprising when I first played Smash 4. Upon playing Uprising for the first time last year, I stated in my review that the game was so exemplary that Kid Icarus should headline the next Smash Bros. game with the popular IPs serving as opening acts. Of course, this statement was somewhat glib because realistically, placing Kid Icarus front and center in a Smash Bros. game would’ve been career suicide for Sakurai. However, besides the gorgeous (and exceedingly large) Palutena’s temple immaculate enough to be the subject of a Sistine Chapel painting by one of the Italian Renaissance masters, Sakurai integrates features from his misunderstood bundle of joy into minor facets of Smash Bros. such as the items. The blustering Ore Club, the mannered X Bomb, and the handy back shield all appear from Pit’s sole 3D iteration to highlight Uprising’s existence. Smash 4 also includes Link’s Beetle and the Gust Bellows gadgets from Skyward Sword as complementary offensive tools, as they were arguably the most admirable aspect of that particular Zelda title. The charging Cucco chickens and bombchus from the respected, older Zelda titles also appear as items too. The chain of fireballs that rotate clockwise in Bowser’s Castle from the first Super Mario Bros. game is weaponized like a sword, the beehive the Villager unknowingly knocks out of trees in their Animal Crossing community will swarm fighters with irritating stings, and the Boss Galaga ship that sucked in the player’s ship in the classic Namco arcade title will abduct a fighter and carry them off-screen. Sakurai takes further opportunity to extend the occupancy of Kid Icarus: Uprising in Smash Bros. by adding supporting characters from the game like Phosphora and Magnus as attacking assist trophies, as well as other notable secondary figures from Nintendo’s other franchises like Ghirahim from The Legend of Zelda (Skyward Sword), a Starman enemy from Earthbound, and the Chain Chomp tethered to the ground by a stake from Bob-Omb Battlefield in Super Mario 64. I recognize maybe a couple of the new Pokemon that emerge from their pocket-sized cocoons, for I abandoned that franchise long before I passed by Nintendo entirely. Still, whenever I’m feeling freaky and decide to press the on switch to unleash the items, I become well acquainted with Pokemon like Zoroark and Abomasnow because of getting upset at their pension to dish out far more damage than should be allowed. This is discounting the fact that most of the new additions to the Pokeball item are vigorous legendary Pokemon, who seem to appear as frequently as the regular Pokeballs despite their synonymous status with rarity. Still, it doesn’t seem to matter because every item I’ve mentioned in this paragraph offers enough combative potency for the player to use as a crux to victory. The items the series has stacked since the first game have officially overstepped the boundaries of supplementing the combat to overshadow it completely to total reliance. Fortunately, honest players should find the base combat using only the character's movesets to be far more agreeable than the flighty controls in Brawl. It feels as if the developers have finally honed the pacing and balance of combat they’ve always wanted.

It’s especially opportune for Smash 4’s platform fighting gameplay to feel so adroit and nimble because it doesn’t have the spectacle of a Subspace Emissary campaign to fall back on. Miyamoto pulled the plug on offering another side-scrolling story mode because, and I quote, “people were uploading the cutscenes on YouTube and spoiling it for others.” I’d poke fun at Nintendo’s supreme leader for being a fuddy-duddy luddite except for the fact that I watched the Subspace Emissary’s cutscenes exactly in this fashion because the ache of experiencing the game in some capacity was paining me. I was not disappointed that another Subspace Emissary wasn’t awaiting me on the menu, for Smash 4 still supplies plenty of new ideas intended to accentuate the essentials of Smash Bros. while the Subspace Emissary admittedly distracted from them. The difficulty of the tried and true Classic Mode is split into specific 0.10 decimals points, and conquering the randomized challenges in the harder regions of the scale will unlock an additional boss fought after Master Hand that will even prolong the climax of Classic Mode into a whirlwind of another level to be finished. The trophy gallery’s visual representation of highlighting information on the history of Nintendo’s various franchises and their characters is displayed as a museum exhibition with the best sense of organization thus far. For fresh features unseen beforehand, the player can create their own fighter using a Mii, rounding out the total roster with a character whose moveset is in conjunction with shooting, brawling, and sword tropes as the collective “Mii Fighter” figure. I’d protest this feature in Smash Bros. because my own creations are usually my standby fighter in any other game in the genre, but I suppose this factor of Nintendo history should be featured in some sort and this is the most creative way to implement it. Other than the character customizability, the other new subgame is something I do not recommend trying. “Smash Tour,” a minigame that mirrors the board game gameplay of Mario Party, is by far the most half-assed, boring, long-winded, and unfair extra mode featured across any Smash Bros. game. The fact that it’s featured so prominently on the main menu signals how much faith the developers had in this, which is just embarrassing on all fronts.

It’s about time that Nintendo recognizes that the demographic for their Smash Bros. series can be likened to a group of cats. You can buy your feline friend a bed advertised as state-of-the-art in kitty comfort, but the ungrateful furball will always tend to rest inside the box that the expensive piece of furniture came in. Because the fourth Smash Bros. title didn’t expand on the narrative-intensive campaign that Brawl offered as what seemed to be a vital point of progress in the series, I assumed that Smash 4 would take the time to emphasize the basics of Smash Bros. to craft a game that would make the hardcore Melee purists get with the times and update their Smash Bros. habits. In the finished product, the developers perhaps injected too much content into its base with the items, stages, and unnecessary features to the point of an overdose. I don’t think Smash 4 is going to make the Melee loyalists trade in their CRTVs anytime soon and put away their Gamecube for the (then) newest Nintendo console. Still, those who give every subsequent Smash title a trying chance will find it smoother and more complementary as a bonafide fighting game than Brawl. That is if one manually omits all of the excess themselves, which is a conscious effort I did more fastidiously than in any Smash Bros. game before. I guess this results from a series that only accumulates properties and ideas instead of picking and choosing them to indicate the full extent of how Nintendo has grown. After all these years, Nintendo's history is getting too prodigious to curate in one game.

(Originally uploaded to Glitchwave on 7/24/2024)

[Image from igdb.com]

Super Smash Bros. for 3DS 

Category: Alternate Version

Platforms: 3DS

Release Date: September 12, 2014

Anyone could take a guess that the version of Smash 4 on the 3DS would be mechanically subpar compared to the one on the Wii U. Even four gaming generations later after the original Gameboy debuted the dichotomy of a handheld’s inferiority, the relationship still persists. Fortunately, Sakurai was well aware that he couldn’t sell the 3DS version the same way as its console counterpart, and he'd be damned if people were simply going to view it as an appetizer before the main course due to its earlier release date. To compensate for its limitations, Sakurai decided to funnel practically all of the A-grade material as exclusive content for this version. The stages are far more agreeable as arenas for fighting, and the “handheld oriented” prerogative somehow gives these stages a bit more recognizability. What leap of logic Sakurai jumped to when deciding that Gerudo Valley was from a handheld game is beyond me, and I’m pretty certain that the ethereal world of Magicant from Mother/Earthbound were both depicted with pixelated console hardware. Still, whether or not the decisions based on this directive make an ounce of sense, at least it generated a slew of much more favorable stages. Smash Run should be the envy of all Wii U owners as this arcade 2D platformer features a cavalcade of enemies from various franchises to defeat. This mode alone almost makes the Wii U version the squalid second banana. Actually, the fuzzier visuals with the pervasively blotchy tint isn’t really uglier, but I suppose it would be hard to discern between the male and female Ice Climbers. Anyone want to trade their 3DS for my Wii U?