The Legendary Axe II (TurboGrafx-16)

Almost three years ago now, I looked at The Legendary Axe, a highly regarded 1989 launch title for the North American TurboGrafx-16. In that review, I made only the briefest mention of its “very different sequel,” 1990’s The Legendary Axe II. Why the wait to cover said sequel? Because while it’s not terrible by any means, Legendary Axe II is a prime example of how a few seemingly minor aesthetic and mechanical tweaks can result in a significantly less appealing package.

Legendary Axe II is known as Ankoku Densetsu (“Dark Legend”) in Japan, and boy, did its makers take that name to heart. Gone are the bright colors and upbeat tunes of the previous game’s Tarzan-inspired world. In their place is the grim fantasy styling of the Ancient Kingdom, which resembles nothing less than Robert E. Howard’s Hyborian Age by way of H. R. Giger. The Conan influence extends to the look of our new hero, Prince Sirius, whose long black hair and ripped physique are unmistakably homage. Sirius is on a seven stage quest to regain the throne from his brother, Zach, who usurped it with the aid of the demonic King Drodam. I wish him luck. Could you imagine having to bend your knee to a monarch named Zach of all things? The indignity!

Apart from the changes in setting and art direction, Legendary Axe II dispenses with the weapon power gauge that governed the flow of combat in the original. You no longer need to judge when it’s better to attack with a flurry of fast, weak swings versus going on the defensive for a bit as you wait for a single mighty blow to charge up. The designers attempted to compensate for this loss of tactical depth by including multiple weapons accessed via in-level pickups. The starting sword is relatively balanced. The chain sickle offers improved reach at the cost of lower damage. The punishing axe hits like a truck, but requires you to get up close and personal with your target. And yes, you read that right: The axe isn’t the default weapon in this Legendary Axe game. Go figure.

In addition, there are pickups that restore lost health, extend the health bar, boost the strength of your weapon, and grant extra lives. When the going gets tough, you can also press the Select button to deploy one of your limited stock of “magic bombs” that damage every enemy on the screen. Beware of foes that attempt to use the very same bombs against you, though! Your last offensive option is jumping on the opposition’s heads à la Super Mario. A strange maneuver indeed in a weapon-based action-platformer like this, but I’ll take what I can get.

On one hand, I can applaud the teams at Atlus and Red Company for daring to try something fresh here rather than merely rehashing what Aicom did with the first Legendary Axe. Unfortunately, the majority of their final design is mediocre at best. The dim and frequently under-detailed backgrounds of Sirius’ kingdom literally pale next to Gogan’s lush jungle stomping grounds. Worse, the presence of multiple weapons doesn’t come close to making up for the loss of the power gauge. Regardless of which one you’re wielding, dispatching baddies large and small is mainly a matter of simple button mashing. This gets old well before you reach the finale in Zach’s oddly high-tech stronghold. Oh, and I wasn’t a fan of the more vertically oriented stages, either. They have a bad habit of sending fast-moving enemies swooping at you from off-screen, resulting in loads of knockback and repeated platforming segments.

All that said, Legendary Axe II isn’t a disaster. Some of the bosses look pretty cool. The creepy possessed doll that spawns decoys of itself comes to mind, as does the massive King Drodam himself. The true star of the show, however, is Hiro Suzuki’s intense, brooding score; an exceptionally atmospheric set of chiptunes that really deserved to be showcased in a much better game. Drab and shallow as it is, this one still rates as a mostly adequate arcade style hack-and-slasher. Just don’t expect it hold a candle to the best the genre had to offer at the time, including its own predecessor.

Gradius III (Super Nintendo)

One of my most satisfying gaming accomplishments in recent years has been getting to grips with the once feared Gradius saga. I’ve written before about how the Vic Viper starfighter’s notoriously grueling missions to defend humanity from the rampaging Bacterians were enough to put me off auto-scrolling shooters for years as a kid. It wasn’t until 2017 that I finally buckled down and began to put some real effort into learning what makes these slick sci-fi meatgrinders tick. Since then, I’ve have a delightful time completing a total of five Gradius games, counting spin-offs like Life Force (aka Salamander) and Parodius. There’s perhaps no better indicator of my growth as a player.

Which brings me to my subject today: Konami’s 1990 home port of their own arcade hit, Gradius III. As one of five launch titles selected for the North American Super Nintendo rollout the following year, it has some measure of historic importance in these parts. The shoot-’em-up genre still enjoyed widespread popularity then, and SNES Gradius III served as an entire region’s first glimpse at how it could look, sound, and play on Nintendo’s much-hyped new machine. Pretty dang well, as it turned out, provided you’re not a stickler for originality or silky-smooth frame rates.

One thing you can count on is plenty of bang for your buck. Gradius III is significantly longer than any of its predecessors, with a total of ten stages and fifteen boss battles. Gradius II’s ship customization system also returns and has been greatly expanded upon. In addition to being able to select from four premade power-up schemes as before, you can now access an “edit mode” where you mix-and-match various armaments as you see fit. Crunching the numbers, this amounts to an even 1300 mechanically distinct versions of the Vic Viper! That’s a lot of potential replay value to pile onto an already longer-than-average experience. Tip for newcomers: Combining the Reduce shield with the R. Option formation and any laser works wonders for keeping you safe while you learn level layouts and enemy placements.

All this content looks and sounds phenomenal, too. Sprites and backgrounds are considerably crisper and more detailed than they were in any previous home incarnation of Gradius. On the audio front, the warm, sample-based Super Nintendo arrangements do Motoaki Furukawa’s arcade soundtrack full justice. No small feat when you consider that it was one of relatively few back then to receive a physical album release. Standout tracks for me include “In the Wind,” “Cosmo Plant,” and “Uncharted Territory,” but they’re all winners that epitomize the series’ trademark blend of exhilaration and foreboding.

Then there’s the slowdown. Yes, if this specific release of Gradius III is famous for one thing, it’s near-constant performance issues. The mere act of firing the Vic Viper’s weapons is usually enough to shift everything to half-speed. Needless to say, you’re going to be doing that a lot. The problem is so well known that hacker Vitor Vilela made headlines on gaming news sites when he completed work on a slowdown free revision of the game ROM in 2019. You know what, though? As unforgivable as it might be from a purely technical standpoint, I don’t really mind the extra lag. See, Gradius III is hard. At least on its default difficulty setting and above. I guess that’s the downside to packing in more stages, bosses, and pesky enemy bullets than ever. On top of that, many of the late game checkpoints are a real chore to stage a comeback from and continues are limited. In light of all this, I’ll take every bit of help I can get, thanks. If you must insist on playing this one at full speed, I applaud you. I will not, however, be joining you.

Gradius III’s other primary flaw, and the more serious one in my book, is its overall “been there, done that” vibe. Tackling the series in order, it’s plain to see just how quickly its creators began to run low on ideas. Virtually every enemy and level gimmick here is recycled from Gradius, Gradius II, or Life Force. The rocky area with erupting volcanoes, the asteroid field (with bubbles standing in for the rocks this time), the Moai heads, the fire planet, the high speed zone, the boss rush, the mechanical base, the icky biological lair, it’s all here! Gradius III is practically the video game equivalent of a greatest hits record. Thank goodness for the desert and plant-themed worlds and the vast multitude of ship configurations. Without them, there would be nothing new worth mentioning.

Given the pros and cons, should you actually play Gradius III for Super Nintendo? Absolutely! Even with its technical hiccups and overly familiar stage designs, it remains one impressive package. It takes almost everything its predecessors did so well and then proceeds to up the ante in terms of quantity and presentation. The result is a remarkably robust and replayable chapter in a legendary franchise. Experimenting with different ship loadouts alone makes for hours of space shooting bliss. Whether you opt to stick with the original or go hardcore with Vilela’s speed hack, you won’t be growing bored any time soon.

Gargoyle’s Quest II: The Demon Darkness (NES)

Talk about déjà vu! I had so much fun revisiting one of my all-time favorite Game Boy exclusives, Gargoyle’s Quest, back in November that I revolved to continue on with the series sooner than later. This brings me to the second installment, 1992’s Gargoyle’s Quest II: The Demon Darkness, also known as Reddo Arīmā Tsū (“Red Arremer II”) in Japan. I didn’t grow up with this one, but I was eager to see what Capcom could do with the higher screen resolution and color graphics of the NES. Pretty much the exact same thing, as it turned out.

Gargoyle’s Quest II is actually a prequel to the first, though I could forgive you if you mistook it for a remake. Once again, a demon warrior named Firebrand has to defend his home, the Ghoul Realm, from King Breager’s army of Destroyers. It seems that this Firebrand is supposed to be a distant ancestor of the one previously introduced. Not that this affects anything, since they look and act alike while pursuing the exact same goal. Narratively speaking, I don’t see the point. On the plus side, Capcom apparently had more luck navigating Nintendo of America’s strict religious content policies this time around. The subtitle finally acknowledges that Firebrand is indeed a demon and the cover art restores his proper red skin tone. Baby steps.

The gameplay is just as familiar, in that it remains primarily a side-view action-platforming affair with a heavy emphasis on mastering Firebrand’s unique movement abilities. In addition to the standard jumping and shooting, he can use his wings to glide short distances and cling to most walls with his claws. Between action stages, he’ll explore an RPG style overhead map of the Ghoul Realm in order to advance the plot, get the passwords needed to record progress, and exchange vials (Ghoul Realm currency) for extra lives. Although these pseudo-RPG interludes still amount to mere window dressing, I can at least commend the designers for axing the pointless random overworld battles of the original Gargoyle’s Quest.

Having now gone over all the retread elements, I should emphasize that Gargoyle’s Quest II isn’t literally the same game as its predecessor. Sure, the storyline and core mechanics are virtual carbon copies. We do, however, benefit from all-new level and enemy designs, a brilliant new Yuki Iwai soundtrack that perfectly suits the foreboding Ghoul Realm, and some striking late period NES graphics. Best of all, that increased resolution I mentioned allows for a less claustrophobic view of Firebrand’s surroundings without compromising visual detail. For that last selling point alone, I’d recommend the NES version of Gargoyle’s Quest II over it’s lesser known Japanese Game Boy port, Makaimura Gaiden: The Demon Darkness.

Overall, this is simply a better looking, better sounding, better playing iteration of a title that already excelled on all these fronts. If you liked Gargoyle’s Quest on Game Boy, II makes for an easy recommendation. If you didn’t for whatever reason, you might consider skipping straight to the third entry in the trilogy, the radically different Demon’s Crest for Super Nintendo.

Yume Penguin Monogatari (Famicom)

Hey, it’s Penta, Konami’s lovable penguin mascot! Long time, no see, buddy! Last I checked in with you, you were carefree as can be, zipping across the ice in the 1985 Famicom version of Antarctic Adventure. How’ve you been? Trapped an abusive relationship fraught with body shaming and emotional blackmail, you say? Huh.

Yes, 1991’s Yume Penguin Monogatari (“Dream Penguin Story”) is infamous among import gamers for its jarring marriage of depressing subject matter and whimsical pastel fantasy. Penta has grown into quite the bulky bird since his previous outings and his viciously unsympathetic girlfriend Penko is having none of it. The opening cutscene depicts her threatening in no uncertain terms to leave him in favor of her arrogant (yet svelte!) new suitor Ginji if he doesn’t shed some flab quick. Though the vile Penko and Ginji clearly deserve each other, I suppose we wouldn’t have a game on our hands if Penta displayed even a shred of self-respect and sent the two on their not-so-merry way. Instead, he resolves to slim down with a regimen of exercise and Fat-B-Gone drinks. Little does he know that Ginji’s goons are lying in wait, ready to pelt our portly penguin protagonist with tempting treats in an effort to sabotage his fitness goals. While this one is perfectly playable in its original form, I heartily recommend utilizing the English patch from Vice Translations. You can sort of get the gist of the story from the images displayed, but being able to take in the dialog really drives home the depth of Penta’s avian angst.

Diving in, you’ll notice that Yume Penguin Monogatari goes for a hybrid format. Three of its six stages focus on side-view platforming, two are auto-scrolling shooting exercises, and the last combines both. The large sprites, floaty jumps, and cartoon aesthetic collectively recall a few of Konami’s other Famicom titles from this period, particularly Kid Dracula and Wai Wai World 2.

The major gameplay innovation here is the weight scale along the bottom of the screen that takes of the place of a standard health bar. As in Antarctic Adventure, our boy Penta can’t die in the conventional sense. Touching an enemy or falling prey to an environmental hazard will merely stun him for a instant and possibly cause him to become a bit chubbier. The only ways to fail a level are to run out of time or reach the end with Penta above his target weight. Either will result in a brutal breakup call from Penko and a game over. Fortunately, unlimited continues mean that the fallout from this isn’t nearly as bad for the player as it is for the heartbroken Penta.

Keeping Penta skinny does more than earn him a pass to the next area. It also determines his walk speed, jump height, and combat options. Chubby Penta can only manage a belly flop. This upgrades first to a kick and then to a projectile attack as the pounds come off. The key to success is downing as many bottles of Fat-B-Gone as possible and shunning anything resembling food. It’s also worth grabbing the handful of other items that crop up periodically. These include bonus time, invincibility, a propeller beanie that aids in scaling the giant cake in stage three, and missiles for Penta’s airplane.

Yume Penguin Monogatari’s core platforming and shooting mechanics are pretty bare bones. Everything has the baseline competence you’d expect in a Konami production, but only just. It’s an extremely short playthrough, under fifteen minutes with practice, and an easy one to boot. There is a second loop that you can tackle in order to view the true ending, although it’s honestly not that much more difficult. The overall impression is of a quickie effort aimed at a younger audience. Not that there’s anything wrong with that as such. It’s an affable experience, if not a substantial one. Penta himself is adorable at all sizes and the nonsense world he inhabits is filled with character.

Still, it was the game’s dubious message that drew me to it in the first place and I don’t doubt that Yume Penguin Monogatari would be far more obscure than it already is without the heartless fat shaming antics of Penko. As much as I hate to see a swell guy like Penta get kicked around like this, I have to admit it’s one hell of a spectacle.

Mega Man X2 (Super Nintendo)

Capcom may have taken their sweet time bringing Mega Man to the Super Nintendo in 1993’s Mega Man X, but the floodgates were open from then on. Mega Man X2 hit shelves almost exactly one year later. X2 doesn’t stray far from the beaten path. It painstakingly replicates a majority of its predecessor’s winning design, albeit to ever-so-slightly diminished returns.

Up front, I’ll confess to finding this one surprisingly tough to get to grips with critically. The original ranks among the very finest Super Nintendo releases; a top twenty classic for sure, maybe top ten if you happen to heavily favor the genre. X2 offers virtually the same experience, only with a little less time, care, and creativity invested into it. This leaves it worse than Mega Man X in every capacity and a generally superb, must-play title simultaneously! How’s that for cognitive dissonance?

Once again, stalwart robo-warrior X acts as a Maverick Hunter, charged with scrapping fellow Reploids who turn violent and rebel against their human creators. It’s been six months since Sigma, the Maverick leader, was defeated by X. Now, a new uprising led by a trio of shadowy Reploids known as the X-Hunters threatens that hard-won peace. Who are the X-Hunters? What are they planning? Why have they gathered up the shattered parts of X’s former partner, Zero? X will need to conquer the series standard eight robot master stages (in the order of your choice, naturally) before he can storm the X-Hunter hideout and get some answers.

X2’s plot starts out intriguing. Though it eventually spirals to a predictable close, it’s a perfectly adequate excuse to get out there and do the thing you wanted to do anyway: Dash around fighting weird robots with an ever-growing arsenal of stolen weapons. On that note, I’m happy to report that the first game’s cardinal virtue, the sheer exhilaration of controlling a supremely mobile next gen version of Mega Man, made the transition intact. So did its crisp graphics and hard-rocking tunes. It all just feels a wee bit muted here. I’m not talking about a drastic dip in quality, mind you. There are still thrilling boss encounters with the likes of Flame Stag and Morph Moth, cool weapons like the Bubble Splash and Spin Wheel, standout musical themes like Bubble Crab and Crystal Snail’s, etc. In every case, however, there are fewer such highlights this time around.

Some of the attention to detail that went into the last game’s level design is absent, too. Remember how defeating Chill Penguin caused Flame Mammoth’s stage to freeze over? Or how taking down Storm Eagle’s flying ship cut the power to Spark Mandrill’s lair? You won’t find anything comparable in X2. Most shocking of all, you won’t find a unique final area! Due to a creative choice so baffling that I actually wondered if it might be a glitch at first, the climax takes place in a recycled section of Magna Centipede’s stage. They didn’t even bother to tweak the enemy placements. Hardly the caliber of work I would expect to see in a flagship Capcom franchise.

One last notable strike against X2 is the lackluster implementation of the X-Hunters themselves. Basically, you’re asked to participate in a side quest of sorts that involves battling the three Hunters inside secondary boss rooms hidden within the regular levels. Each one you defeat will drop a Zero part. Collecting all three parts allows you to skip another boss fight later on. That’s it. See the problem here? How is skipping a single optional boss a suitable reward for overcoming three of the same? Since acquiring Zero’s parts doesn’t enhance X’s abilities in any way, isn’t required to beat the game, and doesn’t impact the ending, it’s a pointless waste of time rather than the satisfying challenge it should have been.

How to explain these various downgrades, omissions, and half-baked ideas? One possible scenario centers on the Cx4 chip. The higher-ups at Capcom insisted that this proprietary co-processor be included in the cartridge and used whenever possible to add sprite rotation and simple wireframe 3-D effects to the game. Designer Sho Tsuge described this mandate and the weekly planning meetings it necessitated as the team’s “greatest adversary to date.” Personally, I have difficulty believing that the early ’80s Atari style wireframe models used for a few of the bosses here impressed anyone back in 1994. For all the extra work it apparently took to utilize the thing, the Cx4 ultimately adds little, if anything, to the final product. Perhaps if the developers had been free to leave it out, they would have had time to include a proper end stage and address some of X2’s other miscellaneous shortcomings. I suppose we’ll never know.

Regardless, I should reiterate that recapturing a good 85% to 90% or so of Mega Man X’s magic is no mean feat. As direct follow-ups to timeless masterpieces go, X2 is respectable indeed. In fact, it positively towers above your average SNES action-platformer. Giving it anything less than an enthusiastic recommendation would be like turning down a date with the world’s second most beautiful supermodel. Never let high standards escalate into self-sabotage, friends.