(Originally published to Glitchwave on 1/2/2026)
[Image from igdb.com]
Star Fox
Developer: Nintendo, Argonaut Games
Publisher: Nintendo
Genre(s): Rail Shooter
Platforms: SNES
Release Date: February 21, 1993
Immediately, the first Star Fox exhibits exactly what I believe to be the essence of its appeal. Futuristic space combat is already enthralling in both its spectacle and turbulence, but what if the combatants in this conflict were adorable, fuzzy animals plucked from the organic corners of the Earth? Adding a cutesy element to the context of space combat doesn’t really increase the high-octane energy of such an environment, but its ability to draw in a wider audience goes without saying. Personally, I enjoy seeing the anthropomorphized characters piloting spacecrafts for the same reason people get a kick out of seeing their pets perform tricks in elaborate pageants, minus all of the exploitative elements at play. It’s amusing to see a “lesser life form” flaunt their capabilities. Stretch that to an endeavor that surpasses YOUR OWN capabilities as a human being and the entertainment factor of such a scene is off the goddamn charts. Who’s on top of the food chain now, bitch?
Aiding the appeal of animal characters at the helm of this space opera is the fact that for a bunch of non-human creatures, they’re surprisingly far less cartoonish than some of Nintendo’s other properties whose sequels seem to be more commonly greenlit. Or, at least the extent of their personalities has flourished and proved themselves to be complex compared to Mario and the myriad of mutes in Nintendo’s catalog in, once again, that exemplary Star Fox sequel. For now, at least this entry establishes the coalition of creatures so we can discuss the group dynamic at its absolute bare-bones essentials. The eponymous “Star Fox” refers to the name of the ragtag team of space-age pilots, but Fox McCloud obviously gets top billing as the gang’s leader and as the sole playable protagonist. Supporting this valiant orange canine is his fellow mammal, albeit on the opposite end of the predator and prey spectrum, Peppy Hare, the elder of the group. The blue falcon Falco Lombardi incorporates some avian presence in the collective, while the short and green Slippy Toad signifies that amphibians have crossed over into the unknown reaches of space. Is this considered a racially diverse team in the animal kingdom? Anyways, in addition to the heterogeneous biological mix in terms of their physical qualities, their personal characteristics are equally as eclectic. Of course, assessing them in this way requires cheating with hindsight, as it’s that golden sequel again that would blossom the full extent of their personalities with more advanced gaming hardware that could foster voice acting. For the time being, Fox and his friends only communicate through text boxes with warbled, unintelligible vocalizations accompanying them for a pinch of distinction.
All I can tell from the interactions with teammates is that Falco is rather ungrateful whenever Fox erases any tailgating bogies lining up to strike him down, which leads into a rather divisive factor pertaining to the NPC members of Star Fox. At least once per level, a member or two of the opposing fleet will decide to hone their targets on one of Fox’s friends, prompting them to cry out for Fox to come to their defense. Saving either Falco, Peppy, or Slippy’s bacon on a regular basis is deemed to be a rather annoying affair by a large percentage of players. It not only distracts the player from their main trajectory, but displays a disillusioning dynamic that Fox is the only competent member of his team and the rest of them are nothing but dead weight liabilities. While I can’t deny the empirical evidence of their complaints and started to become a little peeved myself whenever one of Fox’s “teammates” begged me for assistance, an equal standing of proficiency in space combat is not why the other pilots are integral to Star Fox’s essence. The inherent strength of having a team of pilots accompany you in your arduous space journey is that it elevates the stakes of the situation. Fox soloing the mission, whether or not the argument that he’s solely keeping everything afloat already is applicable, would diminish the scope of the setting. Fox setting off on the uncharted depths of the final frontier as a lone wolf (or fox, I suppose) and conquering all of the challenges presented in this enigmatic environment would portray him as a more godlike fox figure than Inari. Supplementing Fox with teammates suggests that the mission is too grandiose to tackle alone, even if the reality is that they’re more trouble than they’re worth. By the same token, having to deviate from the focal point of progression to save the skins of these less-gifted space pilots is intended to raise the anxiety that should ideally come with an intrepid space expedition. If you ignore their pleas, they will be permanently out of commission for the remaining duration of the campaign, and trust me when I say that the game becomes far more sterile without them.
Voice acting between all of the members of Star Fox was evidently beyond the technical capacities of the SNES, but then again, so was every other factor of its presentation. In order to frame Star Fox relatively in the third dimension so it wouldn’t become yet another Gradius-type 2D scrolling space shooter, the developers implemented an “FX Chip” into every cartridge of Star Fox. With this nifty injection, the game could render a 3D spatial plane, or at least what was feasibly executable on a system that wasn’t built for such visual splendor. The supposedly cutting-edge technology of “Mode 7” graphics still wasn’t advanced enough for Star Fox, for it’s difficult to rotate a background to give the illusion of 3D movement in one’s environment when your backdrop is the blank, starry infinity of the cosmos. Even when piloting amidst the atmosphere of a planet like Corneria or Fortuna, flying around does not manipulate the perspective of the background as it would if one were travelling on land. As a result of the developers refusing to compromise, every level displays what can only be described as the absolute naked essentials of 3D shapes and objects. The lack of any realistic constructional rationale is extremely conspicuous in any of the planet levels, except maybe the thick ice cap on Fortuna under the reasoning that the setting could just be on one arctic end of the planet’s longitudinal apex. As for the darker, emptier space settings, they actually thrive by being rendered by the SNES sweating past its technological threshold. Or, maybe I’m just expressing my fondness for whenever space looks like shit. It’s not that I feel vindicated in knocking the supposed summit of settings down a peg, but there’s a certain charm in seeing minimalistic interpretations of space and how it dilutes the anxious majesty of it all. While I’ve found some subjective enjoyment out of the subpar visuals, I doubt that anyone would excuse the single-digit framerate that is drowning the gameplay like it's trapped in quicksand. The developers really didn’t find any issue with this encompassing hiccup?
There are a grand total of sixteen levels across the entirety of Star Fox’s campaign. However, the developers figured that placing each level on a lengthy, linear trajectory would be too lofty, especially since the game felt it necessary to implement the arcade penalty of ending the player’s game entirely if they exhaust all of their continues. As a preventative means to not overcongest the player’s experience with an endurance test, Star Fox has divided all of their levels into three distinct paths. The resolute route that the player chooses from the start also coincides with the difficulty, so be certain not to nudge the D-Pad on this menu if you aren’t feeling confident enough to embark on the steeper challenges that might beset our plucky orange space traveller. If the player can endure Star Fox’s jarring presentational qualities, I don’t know why they wouldn’t be at least a little curious to see what lies beyond the standard path of blasting through floating space boulders after Corneria and nothing more. Locking swathes of content behind what is essentially an entirely separate playthrough is a clever way to encourage replayability, and having the trajectory run concurrently with a specific difficulty will leave the player with the feeling of satisfaction that they’ve overcome something that was once perceived as out of their batting average, or so to speak.
But no matter if the player is a Star Fox amateur or if they have ventured across every conceivable place in the Lylat star system, the final destination for every route will be Venom, the planet depicted prominently in the top right corner of the map screen. While the atmosphere permeating throughout this lengthy level is certainly tempestuous and requires a hefty amount of proficiency from the player with every possible element of gameplay, it serves as an elongated climax to prepare the player for the game’s final boss and the franchise’s core antagonist: Andross. Admittedly, in his first iteration, the intimidation factor of what is intended to be a noxious tyrant in the greater Star Fox galaxy is almost completely marred by the fact that he resembles an arts and crafts mask made by an elementary schooler that can’t even hold onto one’s face. He’s arguably the biggest victim of the game’s minimalistic graphical quirks, and if I were him, I’d sue the shit out of Nintendo for portraying him with this likeness. Still, even though Andross looks like he’s going to decree that the penis is evil (google the 1974 film Zardoz), I’d argue that his total lack of distinguishing features is not a detriment to his role as the penultimate scourge of evil. Retreating to how the game benefits from an animal cast, there is a certain warmth that emanates from their cuddly designs that a human cast couldn’t achieve. Meanwhile, Andross’s white, geometrical shape embodies the sheer coldness of the cosmos that can only be found in the deepest recesses of it. It’s two wild contrasts converging on not only the spectrums of good and evil, but organic life versus the frigid detachment of an uncaring universe.
Take the electric space battles from Star Wars and add a layer of fur or feathers onto the bodies of the rebel squadron and voila: Nintendo has yet another series that will be fondly remembered as another appealing addition to their celebrated catalog, despite its inclination to remain absent for long periods of time. However, in the case of Star Fox’s first outing on the SNES, there is an overly ambitious third ingredient that does not gel with the overall concoction. Maybe I have no frame of reference considering that I grew up with 3D gaming as the norm, but were gamers in 1993 really frothing at the mouth for the extra polygonal dimension so vigorously that the industry tried expediting their wishes with incapable hardware? I guess its existence proves that Star Fox was at least a feasible endeavor, but the sparse elements in the foreground matched with the abhorrently lethargic framerate proves that putting a game like Star Fox on the SNES is like giving a child cocaine: its inability to handle such a powerful stimulant will cause catastrophic results. Don’t worry, all of Star Fox’s innovative ideas will be transferred to a more resilient, accommodating system very soon.
