Nicktoons Unite! Review

 (Originally published to Glitchwave on 11/13/2025)

[Image from glitchwave.com]

Nicktoons Unite!

Developer: Blue Tongue

Publisher: THQ

Genre(s): Action-Adventure

Platforms: GCN, PS2

Release Date: October 27, 2005

Kids are not the sharpest tools in the shed that we call society. I could ramble on about how this generation’s youngins are amused by what I consider to be dumb, trendy shite like TikTok, cryptocoin, and those fugly Labubu things, which look like Monchhichis if you fed them after midnight, like the old coot I’ve become. However, I’d be a stone thrower in a glass house in that scenario. I can’t criticize anything the youths of today do because I made the same mistakes getting sucked into chintzy crap. Namely, cartoon crossover video games like Nicktoons Unite! They could’ve placed these four familiar animated characters as the members of a jury deciding the verdict of someone attempting to rescind a traffic ticket, and I’d have jumped at the opportunity to experience it. In fact, this statement is emblematic of the cynical situation at large regarding the existence of Nicktoons Unite! Because kids like me lacked the discerning taste and media literacy that comes with age, the industry at large could capitalize on our naivety and churn out a product without any effort or thought put into it. Naturally, this is exactly what happened with Nicktoons Unite! Still, the reason why I’ve chosen to resurrect this forgettable piece of licensed shovelware from my childhood and dedicate a review to it two decades later is that the game was so atrocious that the crossover novelty it was intending to skate by on faltered completely.

First and foremost, let’s not be obtuse here, gentlemen. By the mid-2000s, when Nicktoons Unite! was released, the label of a “Nicktoon” no longer existed. The phrase once had relevance during the channel’s early 1990s inception, when every original series was of relatively equal standing and collectively worked together to showcase the strengths of an animated-exclusive network when the idea of such a thing was still a stroke of ingenuity. Once that decade came to a close, the network’s “silver age” was marked by Stephen Hillenburg’s yellow sponge breaking through the mold of channel cohesion to situate himself on the Mt. Rushmore of cartoon characters alongside Mickey, Bugs, and Homer Simpson. The game should’ve been titled “SpongeBob and Friends Unite!” to highlight the honest dynamic between these characters, with the most recognizable IP receiving top billing. Yet, the game’s narrative seems to shy away from the prevalent SpongeBob supremacy by placing Jimmy Neutron as the leader of this crossover coalition. Mainly, this is due to the fact that the precocious wunderkind’s prime nemesis, Professor Calamitous, is the commander of the villain collective. The unified group of antagonists consists of each Nicktoon character’s respective antagonists and is using their collective maliciousness in an effort to terrorize the greater Nickelodeon universe. Naturally, the rampant, ambiguous wrongdoings of these cartoon villains behoove our heroes to use their equally matched combined forces of good to halt their schemes.

The inherent appeal of crossover content is fulfilling the curious fantasy of seeing multiple characters from completely separate fictional universes interact despite how polar their normal existences are from one another (two characters here both being Butch Hartman creations, notwithstanding). From a gameplay standpoint, the distinctiveness of each Nickelodeon character establishes a diverse dynamic between the foursome. Danny Phantom (who is shockingly making his debut in an interactive medium here) should be propped up as the Frank Sinatra of this rat pack, leading the charge with his potent punches and kicks that are enhanced by his superhero capabilities. Nicktoons Unite seems to subscribe to the same connection that the Jimmy Timmy Power Hour series was based upon, in that the universal forces of science and magic that both gifted pre-teens boys wield the power of, respectively, place them on different sides of the same coin despite their clashing paper flat and polygonal animation aesthetics. What this means from a gameplay standpoint is that Jimmy and Timmy both specialize in projectile offenses, with the former blasting lasers from a mechanism he crafted in his lab and the latter character wishing Cosmo to fashion himself as a green rifle that spews stars. Isn’t there a passage in “Da Rules” that restricts Timmy from not corresponding with gun-owning regulations, or is this a special scenario that allows him some flexibility? Lastly, and objectively not least, what does the absorbent, yellow, and porous one contribute to this group? Well, Mr. Nickelodeon seems to be situated as the comic relief, using his idiosyncratic, almost aloof effervescence as a source of levity in the midst of all of the other characters' dryly expositing mission plans. Puts things into perspective, eh? To his credit, where SpongeBob’s foam karate gloves will prove the most ineffective at penetrating the enemy’s defenses, at least he can contribute the absorbency of his spongy physicality to hydrate some of the more organic platforms and then use their buoyant properties to bounce upward like a trampoline. Then again, the three other characters also contribute their other assets outside of combat for situational snags involving platforming. Danny can possess NPC characters and enemies with his ghostly transparency, Timmy can utilize some Snowmeiser magic to freeze enemies and platforms, Jimmy can hover over sizable gaps with his jetpack, etc. Actually, SpongeBob is definitely the MVP on the field because he can summon DoodleBob to distract enemies, and I believe this is the first time any video game involving SpongeBob has ever incorporated his crude, malevolent graphite creation in any capacity. Whether or not we’d like to argue if SpongeBob is or is really required to pull his own weight here, his distinctive gameplay characteristics, along with his compatriots, do compel the player to refrain from sticking to Stephen Hillenburg’s brainchild for the game’s duration, and exhibit a mark of admirable character research from the developers.

Alas, the diversity between all of these disparate characters is ultimately muddled by the inexcusably pitiful gameplay mechanics. Have you ever attempted to hoist a fish out of a river with your bare hands, or borrow the keys to your local hospital’s morgue and try to engage in a firm handshake with one of the corpses like you’re meeting your girlfriend’s father? Don’t answer any of those questions, for they’re rhetorical situations meant to highlight the lifeless, impactless feeling that plagues Nicktoons Unite! No matter if you’re denting the syndicate’s robotic legions with Danny or SpongeBob’s melee attacks or blasting bits off of them with Jimmy and Timmy, the player will quickly come to the realization that every action they commit holds zero physical gravity. Hitting an enemy feels like pounding a hole into a piece of paper or a rice cake, a fragile object where any physical impact with said object will feel like an imbalance of energy, no matter the level of force. Upon being smited, enemies will simply evaporate into flinty little sparks, dissipating in a flash like flushing loose hairs down a sink. They might leave behind a coin, the most cliché video game currency imaginable, which the player can use towards increasing individual character attributes, such as strengthening their offense and gadgets. Still, however many points the player allots to these traits will not change the combat’s underwhelming sensation of laying waste to saltine crackers.

Truthfully, the lame combat of Nicktoons Unite is symptomatic of the game’s appalling presentational qualities. Usually, I wouldn’t be too critical about a game’s superficial features, but the shoddiness displayed throughout Nicktoons Unite is as rampant as a growing cancer cell. For starters, another vital video game attribute that is still commonly undiscussed by me is the nondescript muzak that introduces us to the game in the main menu. Sorry, but are our heroes on an epic journey to conquer evil or shop for snappy business casual attire at Macy's? When the level music isn’t equally as lethargically stock as the one in the introduction, many levels seem content to have the faint sounds of rustling winds, bobbing bubbles, and other ambient noises accompany level progression, if not complete silence. Because Nicktoons Unite inexplicably keeps the volume at a library level, the pitter-patter of the piddly combat just becomes more pronounced. How hard is it to compose some generic triumphant score just to appropriately set the scene? The lack of audible oomph also unfortunately translates to the game’s sound effects, or lack thereof. When Patrick is sucked into a jellyfish harvester, all we hear is a soft bubbling like a kid is blowing on a straw into their soda instead of the harsh industrial vacuum suction blare of this mechanical monster. C'mon, guys, the show reuses the same anguished scream from Patrick constantly! You’re telling me you couldn’t have borrowed it?! Voice acting is also inconsistent, as the game opts to substitute spoken dialogue with nothing but text boxes whenever the characters speak to other recognizable faces from their series that aren’t taking part in the quest. So, you’re telling me that Scarlett Johansson, A-list film star and generation-defining sex symbol, reprised her role for the SpongeBob movie video game, but the people whose day job is to provide voices to these secondary characters took a sick day? Tim fucking Curry, Dr. Frank-N-Furter himself, even returns to offer his devilish English poshness to Professor Calamitous. What gives? In the graphical department, character models clip through walls; some awkward scenes conflict with their situational context, and there is a cutscene where the hit detection is so hilariously mismatched that seeing it put me in a fit of hysterics. I would chalk it all up to laziness, but the lack of voice acting support throughout the experience leads me to believe that funneling insufficient funds into the project is yet another part of the problem.

Naturally, the presentational mess seeps into each of the game’s areas. Every playable character’s respective realms are granted at least some semblance of representation and at a relatively equal division. Still, the discernibility of these characters’ backyards is questionable at best. I’m the least familiar with the Amity Park metropolitan area where Danny Phantom resides because I haven’t seen even a glimpse of its source material since I could still sing soprano in the school choir. Still, while the only notable setting from the show I can recall is his school, and maybe that would’ve been a tad too restrictive, I doubt that the entirety of Amity Park is this generically bland as far as city settings are concerned. Not to mention, experiencing levels of smog that Los Angeles wouldn’t wish on its worst enemy. It’s been decades since I’ve seen anything related to Butch Hartman’s rendition of Spider-Man, so I can’t comment on the game’s fidelity failures using it as an example. However, (classic) SpongeBob has retained its place in my nostalgia canon as well as a couple of other video game adaptations involving the little square dude, so I can definitely place it as evidence on trial, accusing this game of squandering the settings of the source materials. Bikini Bottom is looking quite dismal with the same amount of odd smog present that was polluting Danny’s domain, and Jellyfish Fields has never featured this many rocky chasms. Really, I think the recognizable sections of Bikini Bottom are a formality race to the Jellyfish Factory that concludes it, for the developers seem to have a penchant for enclosures. The pink clouds that support the fairy godparent society are the most vibrant setting in the game, but the vast majority of the Fairly Oddparents portion is dedicated to the dim inner sanctum of a temple in the revolting image of Mr. Crocker. Was this temple of vanity ever featured in the show? I’ll bet the farm that it wasn't. Once the game circles back around to Jimmy’s lab, the city of Retroville is completely shafted because “Goddard has been infected with a giant robotic flea and removing it requires shrinking everyone down and combating it from the interior.” Is this process an interactive reference to the Fantastic Voyage episode from the show, or did the developers cleverly devise a way to craft another insulated setting where connections to the source material could be inapplicable? It certainly seems to be the pattern set here, and the various drab, formulaic enclosed settings are completely counterintuitive to the core component of recognizability that sells a licensed title.

Besides the giant flea that irritates me, probably on par with how much it irritates Goddard, the developer couldn’t shirk placing the familiar foes from each represented franchise as the game’s bosses because they’re too integral to the crossover equation. Vampiric ghost lord Vlad Plasmius, the one-eyed failed fast food franchise owner Plankton, kooky fairy conspiracist Denzel Crocker, and the shrimpy, stuttering Professor Calamitous are all of the representative character foils to the respective playable heroes. Encountering them also serves as the climactic conclusion to the realms in which they inhabit, and having them block the path to the following portal feels like every level is going into overtime. Yes, this statement does carry negative connotations. I appreciate the fact that each rival’s status as a formidable villain is recognized through the scale of the fight, and I also enjoy that the coinciding good guy is the key to draining the defenses. However, discovering the enemy’s Achilles heel is not the aspect of these fights that will test the player’s patience; it’s the absolute slog of waiting for the opportunity to exploit their weaknesses. The boss battle elongation is multiplied by four with the game’s final boss, which includes every single major baddy strapped to an orbital device along with Calamitous. Not only does crafting the final boss as a quartet sort of minimize Calamitous as a villainous presence, but being forced to prioritize one of them at a time per phase makes the final boss a totally tedious excursion. I’d comment that fighting four of them at once is intended to give the final bout an artificial air of intimidation, but that theory is thrown out of the window when SpongeBob disconnects their doomsday device as easily as one’s cat zooming through the house and unplugging the TV. Oops?

Banality, thy name is Nicktoons Unite! Truthfully, I’ve never seen a game hone half-assery into an art form quite like this title, and that’s a low bar sinking deeper into the stink of licensed shit. It somewhat understands the assignment of establishing an appropriate rapport between each character of a polarly different cartoon world and highlighting their differences. Yet, every single conceivable mechanical and presentational attribute supporting this ragtag team is painfully, laughably undercooked as fresh roadkill. But I swear, this is an opinion I’ve been expressing since the mid-2000s when I was ripe and ready to experience a crossover of this caliber (in concept, not execution). Nicktoons Unite! was so terribly cheap and dysfunctional that it might have ignited my cynical flame that continues burning to this day, which is the cost of slacker video game developers nonchalantly mishandling people’s childhoods.