(Originally published to Glitchwave on 6/27/2025)
[Image from igdb.com]
Spyro: Year of the Dragon
Developer: Insomniac
Publisher: SCEI
Genre(s): 3D Platformer
Platforms: PS1
Release Date: October 25, 2000
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Alright, did I actually fool someone with my line of bullshit? Perhaps I’d bait someone with my opening paragraph if they either don’t understand hyperbole or have never read one of my reviews before. Even without drawing direct parallels to the course of the original Crash trilogy and how Crash Bandicoot: Warped was the ridiculous second sequel that streamlined the series and added too much stuff for the sake of preserving its appeal after two entries, everyone should know that every third and final game in any trilogy is guilty of implementing the same practices. Spyro: Year of the Dragon, of course, is absolutely not an exception to this rule. In fact, the bloatedness on display in Spyro’s third outing makes the kooky augmentations of Warped look reserved by comparison. You might be aware of the unfortunate pattern that plagues any video game series’ second sequel, but you don’t know the extent of it until you’ve played Spyro: Year of the Dragon.
Spyro: Year of the Dragon begins with an eggnapping, the primordial form of a kidnapping. A cloaked figure and her team of rhino creatures, who evidently have mole-like digging properties, ransack the Dragon Kingdom of its eggs literally out from under their noses, boldly taking them from their outdoor quarters as they sleep. Somehow, even after compromising their position by carelessly stepping on Hunter’s tail, the egg bandits still manage to escape from their little heist unscathed, even with tons of towering dragon elders on the scene. How useless is Hunter proven to be when these thieves outrun the innate speed of his cheetah birthright? The following scene, witnessed by series staple tutorial fairy, Zoe, depicts the cloaked figure handing an egg to a regal figure sitting on a throne of sorts. Judging by her commanding demeanor, we’re to believe that she falls on the tyrannical spectrum of rulers, and she does not have virtuous intentions with these dragon eggs. Naturally, the onus is on Spyro (and Hunter, I guess) to retrieve their stolen property one by one. The conflict that Year of the Dragon presents doesn’t have the clear aura of worry that Ripto’s Rage exuded with its premise. Still, the stakes of losing the entire newborn populace of an endangered species and the implications that the series’ new villain might boil em, mash em, and stick em in a stew like common potatoes should not bode well with either Spyro or the player.
Surprisingly, Year of the Dragon progresses forward by reverting a bit back to the practices of the first game. Namely, treating its collectathon format in the literal fashion of locating the whereabouts of the game’s main Macguffin strewn about the map. Like the immobilized dragon elders Spyro needed to find in his amateur adventuring days, freeing an appropriate number of eggs from captivity is what progresses the narrative. Once found, the little dragon tykes pop out from their eggs as what I can discern is a token of their gratitude, and each of them is already born with names that run the gamut of both male and female baby books. Yes, I even found a dragon that shared my name eventually. Besides the standby gems that serve as currency, the eggs are the sole collectible in Year of the Dragon, solving the issue presented in Ripto’s Rage when two primary collectibles started waging war for higher precedence. The eggs replace both the talismans and orbs simultaneously, rewards for trekking to a level’s main goal line, and the branching paths with other activities available. This way, the collectibles are far more concise and organized, and every achievement is of equal standing. I may still be wondering what I did to warrant a reward when I reach the end of any of these levels, as I did in Ripto’s Rage, but I’m at least no longer questioning the validity of what I achieved because there is another collectible to consider.
Year of the Dragon illustrates the importance of performing the bare minimum task of hiking to the other warp gate of each level because a representative from that level’s friendly NPC race will recognize Spyro’s “aid” and return the favor by crafting the airborne travel mechanism that will carry Spyro to the next realm upon completion. Each of these NPCs that Spyro converses with all shares a commonality of adorable chibi sizes, but they all greatly vary in shapes, designs, and silly accents. “Sunny Villa” has Roman bears wearing togas with Italian accents, the rabbits of “Dino Mines” all sound like Jimmy Stewart, the fireflies that illuminate “Spooky Swamp” all insist on uttering every line of dialogue as a haiku, etc. To interact with all of these adorable, kooky characters, Spyro must supersede the bare minimum of walking the linear path to the level’s other end. A condition of the eggs performing both halves of the two collectibles featured in Ripto’s Rage is that the player will need a certain amount of them to unlock more of the game’s content, as collecting the orbs once fulfilled. The amount needed is never too steep, and every single egg is accounted for when the game considers the totals. Again, I can’t stress enough how Year of the Dragon finally perfected the series’ collectathon process, melding the two attempts that weren’t quite right and hitting a bullseye with the fusion. Gathering up eggs like it’s Easter Sunday is both a smooth and varied excursion throughout, and I was relieved when the game didn’t suddenly erect a brick wall at the finale to halt my progress like hitting a moose dead-on with my car.
Many eggs can be uncovered while taking the stroll to the level’s exit gate, which can vary from sitting pretty in the grass or inconspicuous heights and corners that require an acute knowledge of the level’s layout. The main collectible even invites the cheeky, cloaked egg thieves to return after their absence in Ripto’s Rage, engaging the chase sequences from the first game that were actually enthralling. Still, a sizable percentage of them are obtained through completing “side quests” that involve mechanics outside the gliding, jumping, ramming, and fire-breathing maneuvers regularly used on the field. In Ripto’s Rage, orbs were earned by completing these secondary objectives located outside, around, and or beyond the linear trek to receiving a talisman. Finding the NPC who gives Spyro this condition to earn an orb required keen exploration in and of itself, exposing the rich layers and details present in each level. It’s a tad disheartening that Year of the Dragon forgoes the organic symmetry of combining the main path with the notable destinations in favor of implementing portals with loading screens, but ultimately, HOW some of the eggs are earned through these auxiliary escapades that smack of tired third entry syndrome. Vehicles are an alternate means of gameplay that were an element to earning a few orbs in Ripto’s Rage, most notably the trolley segment in “Breeze Harbor.” Year of the Dragon recognizes that a dragon living a storybook fantasy realm, hopping onto a mechanical marvel and riding it, is a knowingly unfitting deviation from his innate abilities, but the ironic humour of such a scene wears thin when it occurs far too often for comfort. The Egyptian-inspired “Haunted Tomb” features a tank battle between Spyro and four other heavily-armed combatants, and the rigid dodging controls with the other tanks firing shells from all angles make victory in this BattleBots match in favor of whoever pleases RNGesus. I refused to even humor the second round, where there are ten goddamn tanks in the arena all at once. The tank that skids through water isn’t any more fluid (no pun intended), and neither is the one that hovers about in the air. Really, the zenith point of ridiculousness regarding Year of the Dragon’s penchant for accelerating Spyro’s movement with a contraption is the plethora of skateboarding sections, setting Spyro in a skatepark while Hunter judges his skills from a distance. Yes, to spruce up the series’ gameplay after two entries, Spyro emulates Tony Hawk of all things. During these sections, I found myself pedantically mulling over the fact that Spyro isn’t (and physically can’t) accelerate the board’s movement with his legs, but the true issue is that hopping off of a ramp or flying upward on an incline tends to be incredibly unresponsive. Cowabunga, dude? Hell nah. As for how this third entry condescendingly dilutes its attributes for accessibility’s sake, as they tend to do, the speedways, a staple of Spyro that always proved to be a competent means of offering an alternate mode of gameplay, are unfortunately dumbed down due to their compact design. Sparx even expresses his lack of confidence in Spyro by suggesting the order in which to tackle the four categories. Bite me, you glowing bug.
To compound on the prevalent annoyance and or rank silliness that smudge Year of the Dragon’s “side quests,” many of them are also exclusively allocated to sections where the player controls the game’s four other playable characters. Gee, with Spyro’s new friends from Avalar congesting the screen at every other moment in Ripto’s Rage, who could’ve guessed that its follow-up would clutter the game with even more characters? I’m so used to composing at least one paragraph dedicated to what I call “Sonic’s shitty social circle” when discussing many of the blue blur’s 3D titles, and now, I can swap Sonic for Spyro (without ruining the alliteration in the title at that), and my scorn is just as applicable. In addition to conducting the toll-like progression impediments littered throughout the land, the Scroogelike scoundrel Moneybags has tacked on selling the prisoners of the main antagonist as another scheme to gain more profit. The legalities of this practice aside, once Spyro pays their ransom, sections involving each character’s set of unique skills are unlocked for the chance of gathering more dragon eggs. Sheila the Kangaroo’s superhopping ability is the most appropriate for a platformer, but she lacks the grace of our purple protagonist. A flying penguin causes my persnickety nature to flare up again, but the true complaint I have regarding “secret agent” Sgt. Byrd is that his sections tend to heavily restrict his ability. The only exception to this is letting him free-roam to collect bones in “Enchanted Towers.” Bentley the Yeti is the powerhouse with his giant icicle club, but the developers should’ve made his sections more methodical, considering how many big blocks he moves to use as platforms and his unexpectedly articulate personality. He’d evidently make for a better puzzle-solver than a boxer, that’s for damn sure. Lastly, mad monkey Agent 9 offers shooting gameplay in both the third and first-person perspectives. The time playing as Agent 9 conjured up many unpleasant memories of times when Banjo cocked Kazooie like a gun in Banjo Tooie, and firing lasers as this space-suited simian was equally as mismatched and demanding. Similar to any instance of Spyro piloting a vehicle, the other playable characters are testament to the fact that variety isn’t inherently an enhancement to preserve the player’s attention.
I suppose boss fights count as an alternate means of receiving eggs, considering that one is earned upon defeating one, just like all of the tasks that unlock its availability leading up to it. It’s no secret that the Spyro series once struggled immensely in this department, and Ripto’s Rage corrected the first game’s baffling mistake of narratively weighted chases with foes that are fought with health bars like typical boss battles. Like learning to ride a bike, Year of the Dragon doesn’t forget how to craft adequate milestone baddies from the exceptional example that Ripto’s Rage laid out. The magically mutated trio of Buzz, Spike, and Scorch are all fine multiphased fights that conclude each realm nicely. Year of the Dragon even doubles the selection of bosses by offering one tucked away in a level per realm, and these duels of lesser narrative stature are equally as involved as the mandatory ones, especially the twin dragons of “Fireworks Factory.” I even like blasting the mechanical shark Bluto in the circular pool arena in “Seashell Shore,” despite having to use the clunky speedboat that fires the ammunition. Still, all of my complaints regarding the various vehicles culminate to a blood-boiling degree with the final boss of the Sorceress, in which every conceivable vehicle is dropped onto the stage as the only means of blowing off chunks of her health bar. Even her true final fight en route to the game’s full completion heavily involves using the hovercraft to shoot down her saucer. It’s hardly as epic as finishing off Ripto, and it proves to be far more of a headache.
On top of both of her gimmicky final fights, what also bothers me regarding The Sorceress is that she’s practically a non-entity in terms of her role in the overall narrative. Sure, she’s the one pulling the strings of the egg-stealing operation, but her idle position of making commands from the comfort of her throne hardly matches the vigor of Ripto, seizing Avalar district by district on the backside of Gulp like an insidious imperial general. The only character in Year of the Dragon that is an active force of antagonism is Bianca, the blonde bunny who stole the eggs and occasionally attempts to cause Spyro grief on his mission to recover them. Inherent subordinate status aside, the fact that The Sorceress scolds her during every interaction and that Spyro and Hunter charitably help when her lack of finesse in witchery becomes a liability to herself, it’s obvious that she eventually defects from her lackey role to join Spyro on the side of heroism. When she does become another member of Spyro’s “team,” all the game does is relegate her presence entirely to a B-plot with Hunter. In fact, these two interact with one another so much that it blooms into a romantic relationship, in which Spyro laments that “another noble warrior falls victim to the plague of love.” Damn, Spyro, two adventures were enough to transform you into a jaded curmudgeon, eh? Is this a Charles Bukowski quote? Anyways, without a solid antagonist, the conflict turns flat and starts to evoke feelings of picking up one’s scattered trash after a bad storm blows through, like rescuing the dragon elders in the first game.
Forget what I said about Crash Bandicoot: Warped exemplifying all of the unsavory hallmarks of a third entry trying to reinvigorate a weathered franchise. Two years later, its younger brother on the PS1 caught up and really showed Naughty Dog how to masterfully bloat a series like a stomach after too much Taco Bell. I’m almost convinced that Insomniac was totally aware of the trappings of a third entry and unabashedly embraced the inevitable. How else do you explain aspects such as skateboarding or the influx of playable characters that aren't Spyro in the slightest? They are such prevalent forces that drive Year of the Dragon, creating a diversion like a younger sibling screaming loudly to distract their parents from noticing the older sibling stealing snacks from the pantry. In this context, all of the new additions serve to distract the player from noticing how Spyro’s gameplay has barely been innovated on in any profound manner. Still, I suppose even with all of Year of the Dragon’s messiness, it’s a more resonating Spyro experience than the rough template of its first outing. Still, in making this statement, I realize that it's another checkmark on the scorecard of Year of the Dragon’s third entry proclivities that make it the archetypal game that rounds off a trilogy…for better or for worse.
I suppose boss fights count as an alternate means of receiving eggs, considering that one is earned upon defeating one, just like all of the tasks that unlock its availability leading up to it. It’s no secret that the Spyro series once struggled immensely in this department, and Ripto’s Rage corrected the first game’s baffling mistake of narratively weighted chases with foes that are fought with health bars like typical boss battles. Like learning to ride a bike, Year of the Dragon doesn’t forget how to craft adequate milestone baddies from the exceptional example that Ripto’s Rage laid out. The magically mutated trio of Buzz, Spike, and Scorch are all fine multiphased fights that conclude each realm nicely. Year of the Dragon even doubles the selection of bosses by offering one tucked away in a level per realm, and these duels of lesser narrative stature are equally as involved as the mandatory ones, especially the twin dragons of “Fireworks Factory.” I even like blasting the mechanical shark Bluto in the circular pool arena in “Seashell Shore,” despite having to use the clunky speedboat that fires the ammunition. Still, all of my complaints regarding the various vehicles culminate to a blood-boiling degree with the final boss of the Sorceress, in which every conceivable vehicle is dropped onto the stage as the only means of blowing off chunks of her health bar. Even her true final fight en route to the game’s full completion heavily involves using the hovercraft to shoot down her saucer. It’s hardly as epic as finishing off Ripto, and it proves to be far more of a headache.
On top of both of her gimmicky final fights, what also bothers me regarding The Sorceress is that she’s practically a non-entity in terms of her role in the overall narrative. Sure, she’s the one pulling the strings of the egg-stealing operation, but her idle position of making commands from the comfort of her throne hardly matches the vigor of Ripto, seizing Avalar district by district on the backside of Gulp like an insidious imperial general. The only character in Year of the Dragon that is an active force of antagonism is Bianca, the blonde bunny who stole the eggs and occasionally attempts to cause Spyro grief on his mission to recover them. Inherent subordinate status aside, the fact that The Sorceress scolds her during every interaction and that Spyro and Hunter charitably help when her lack of finesse in witchery becomes a liability to herself, it’s obvious that she eventually defects from her lackey role to join Spyro on the side of heroism. When she does become another member of Spyro’s “team,” all the game does is relegate her presence entirely to a B-plot with Hunter. In fact, these two interact with one another so much that it blooms into a romantic relationship, in which Spyro laments that “another noble warrior falls victim to the plague of love.” Damn, Spyro, two adventures were enough to transform you into a jaded curmudgeon, eh? Is this a Charles Bukowski quote? Anyways, without a solid antagonist, the conflict turns flat and starts to evoke feelings of picking up one’s scattered trash after a bad storm blows through, like rescuing the dragon elders in the first game.
Forget what I said about Crash Bandicoot: Warped exemplifying all of the unsavory hallmarks of a third entry trying to reinvigorate a weathered franchise. Two years later, its younger brother on the PS1 caught up and really showed Naughty Dog how to masterfully bloat a series like a stomach after too much Taco Bell. I’m almost convinced that Insomniac was totally aware of the trappings of a third entry and unabashedly embraced the inevitable. How else do you explain aspects such as skateboarding or the influx of playable characters that aren't Spyro in the slightest? They are such prevalent forces that drive Year of the Dragon, creating a diversion like a younger sibling screaming loudly to distract their parents from noticing the older sibling stealing snacks from the pantry. In this context, all of the new additions serve to distract the player from noticing how Spyro’s gameplay has barely been innovated on in any profound manner. Still, I suppose even with all of Year of the Dragon’s messiness, it’s a more resonating Spyro experience than the rough template of its first outing. Still, in making this statement, I realize that it's another checkmark on the scorecard of Year of the Dragon’s third entry proclivities that make it the archetypal game that rounds off a trilogy…for better or for worse.
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