Commando (NES)

Capcom’s star designer, Tokuro Fujiwara, was on a roll in 1985. He directed two arcade titles that year, both of which were destined to become massive hits and influential landmarks within the burgeoning run-and-gun action genre. These were, of course, the fantasy/horror-themed side-scroller Ghosts ‘n Goblins and the overhead view Senjō no Ōkami (“Wolf of the Battlefield”) with its more traditional 20th century military stylings. Most of us outside Japan came to know Senjō no Ōkami by the international title Commando. The official line is that there’s no connection between Capcom’s Commando and the Arnold Schwarzenegger film of the same name that also released in 1985. I’ll let you be the judge of that.

After dumping so much time into adventure games and RPGs over the past few weeks, it’s refreshing to kick back with a straightforward mid-’80s arcade port. The 1986 NES interpretation of Commando is practically the epitome of “what you see is what you get” gameplay. Players take control of “Super Joe” Gibson, a blue-clad one-man army out to storm a sequence of four battlefields and capture their fortresses. Never mind wondering what nation the constant stream of enemy soldiers in gray are affiliated with. You’ll never know and it doesn’t matter. Kill ’em all and let your system’s proprietary Ricoh CPU sort ’em out!

To this bloody end, Joe comes armed with an infinite ammo machine gun and limited supply of grenades. Grenades pull double duty as Joe’s only way to attack enemies behind cover and his sole means of revealing invisible entry points to the underground bunker areas added to this version of the game. The bunkers aren’t large at one of two screens apiece, but they’re filled with helpful items that can be collected for bonus points, extra lives, a power-up that doubles the range of Joe’s machine gun from half to full-screen, a particularly coveted bulletproof vest that absorbs several attacks before wearing out, and more. Given that a single loop of Commando’s four levels can be completed in around ten minutes, hunting for these secret chambers is the primary source of replay value. Especially since their exact locations and contents change across the four increasingly challenging loops.

The remainder of Joe’s mission is exactly the sort of non-stop mayhem that gave run-and-guns their name. Bad guys spawn in endlessly from all sides of the screen, shooting more bullets on each subsequent loop. As Joe, you’re effectively forced to remain in constant motion, balancing the competing needs to evade and return fire dynamically from moment-to-moment based on ever-shifting battlefield conditions. It’s intense. So intense, in fact, that the fundamental sameyness of it all isn’t nearly as big a drawback as you might expect. You simply don’t have time to stop reacting long enough to get bored. It’s no wonder at all that this exact formula remained popular well into the next decade.

This isn’t to say that NES Commando doesn’t have legitimate issues. Sprite flickering can get pretty bad, with some enemy soldiers having an odd tendency to wink out of existence altogether in order to make room for more pouring in from off screen. The soundtrack is quite monotonous, consisting as it does of a mere three main tracks, two of which (the bunker and fortress battle tunes) play a comparatively small portion of the time. It also lacks the climactic fights against huge, colorful bosses that featured so heavily in Ghosts ‘n Goblins. Gunning down a few final waves of regular soldiers to capture a fortress is nowhere near as memorable.

Basic as it is next to most of Capcom’s later efforts, though, Commando remains a quality piece of work and marked a turning point for them on the NES. It was their first arcade-to-home conversion to exceed the original in scope and, arguably, overall appeal. This is no doubt due to it be being the first such project Capcom handled in-house (courtesy of a team helmed by Fujiwara himself, no less), as opposed to farming it out to the infamous freelance hacks at Micronics. One of the world’s foremost game studios was finally taking the console market seriously.

Higemaru Makaijima – Nanatsu no Shima Daibōken (Famicom)

Way back in 1984, a little up-and-coming software studio called Capcom debuted their third game in Japanese arcades: Pirate Ship Higemaru . This was their entry in the crowded overhead maze action genre popularized by Namco’s Pac-Man. Higemaru stars a sailor by the name of Momotaru, who must fight off endless throngs of pirates by hurling barrels at them. Said barrels make up the interior walls of the mazes, inviting comparisons to Sega’s Pengo and its focus on pushable ice blocks as weapons. “Higemaru” literally translates to “beard round,” a reference to the oddly spherical bearded pirates Momotaru clashes with.

Three years was a long time in ’80s game design terms, however, so it’s not surprising that the arcade Higemaru’s 1987 Famicom sequel ditched the original format in favor of a sprawling Zelda-inspired epic. Thus, we have Higemaru Makaijima – Nanatsu no Shima Daibōken (“Beard Round Hell Island – Great Adventure of Seven Islands”), a deeply flawed adventure that retains just enough of that signature Capcom charm to not be a total loss. In fact, it’s so nearly good that it almost got an NES release under the title Makai Island. The apparently complete Makai Island prototype ROM later surfaced online, making Higemaru Makaijima one of the few Famicom exclusives with an official English localization.

As the subtitle spells out, Momotaro’s new goal is to explore a chain of seven mysterious islands in search of a legendary treasure. His old foes the Higemaru pirates also return and are joined by a whole menagerie of new baddies. It’s a promising setup with a rather spotty implementation. For starters, all the islands are locked at the start. Each requires its own key. Keys are obtained by sailing around until you stumble across an anchored pirate ship. Board it and defeat the crew to win the key. It doesn’t sound too annoying when put that way, but the frustrations you’ll encounter are legion. Momotaro’s ship is achingly slow. There’s no way to know (without cheating) where the vessel you’re searching for is located. Once you do finally obtain a key, there’s no indication what island it unlocks. Factor in the need to repeat this process for every island and the lack of a viable map feature and you have a game that seemingly doesn’t want you playing it! The sheer amount of time you can spend wandering aimlessly over the same small set of drab overworld tiles listening to the same gratingly jaunty music loop is a brick wall many players are bound to bounce right off.

At least things pick up considerably once you do manage to reach land. The core gameplay is nearly identical to Pirate Ship Higemaru’s, except with the ability to scroll the screen and roam in search of items and the island’s boss. Each landmass consists of a few dozen screens with their own thematic identity and complement of unique hazards. Dokuro Island’s undead monsters and rivers of blood were a highlight for me, as was the Ghosts ‘n Goblins-based Hebi Island. The worst was the awkwardly named Cuck Island (Cook Island?) and its grotesquely racist “savage native” stereotypes. It’s a great pity that Japanese media has historically been slow to reject these sorts of depictions.

Momotaru himself is limited to jumping and tossing the barrels, rocks, and similar objects littering the landscape. While this is true to his previous appearance in Pirate Ship Higemaru, it constitutes another of Higemaru Makaijima’s major flaws. A game this length practically demands something in the way of satisfying character progression. New attacks, a level-up system, something. Momotaru is exactly the same from start to finish. Even the various items that raise his health total aren’t permanent. Lose those extra life points and they’re gone for good. Every other item is tied to quest progression and has no tangible effect on the combat. Mechanics originally created for a basic single-screen arcade game simply don’t have the legs to remain engaging for hours on end.

Oh, and how could I forget the cryptic Tower of Druaga style nonsense no mid-’80s adventure would be complete without? Although the main quest mostly plays fair, attaining the best ending requires you to find three extremely well-hidden crystals with no in-game hints whatsoever. Joy!

Reading over my thoughts so far, I’ve been coming down much harder on Higemaru Makaijima than I’d expected to. I should emphasize that the majority of its environments are fairly fun to explore, the (non-racist) sprite work is appealingly cute, and the soundtrack by Harumi Fujita has its high points. When you’re not meandering across the empty ocean in search of the next key or otherwise floundering about directionless, the feel of a rollicking high seas treasure hunt does shine through. Still, the overall experience is rough enough that the NES version’s cancellation seems wholly justified in hindsight. Capcom had no shortage of better stuff on deck and ready to launch in 1987. In other words, only the most patient and dedicated of Famicom deep cut enthusiasts need apply here.

Chip ‘n Dale Rescue Rangers 2 (NES)

Sometimes some games go slipping through the cracks. I kicked off August with a look at DuckTales 2, Capcom’s 1993 follow-up to their 1989 NES smash hit that failed to make much of a splash in a post-SNES world. As it turns out, they also pulled the exact same stunt around that time with the largely forgotten Chip ‘n Dale Rescue Rangers 2. I consider it doubly tragic in this case, since unlike DuckTales 2, which paled ever-so-slightly next to the first in my eyes, I actually prefer the crime fighting rodents’ second 8-bit outing.

On the surface, Rescue Rangers 2 is yet another extremely similar sequel in the vein of the aforementioned DuckTales 2 or my subject last week, Bonk 3. The core action of running and jumping through a series of whimsical locations as either of the eponymous chipmunks (or both, in the two-player simultaneous mode) is familiar indeed. Attacking is once again accomplished by picking up objects, usually boxes, and chucking them at the opposition. The plot echoes the last game as well, with returning arch-villain Fat Cat breaking out of jail and promptly resuming his criminal antics.

In other words, veterans of the previous title will be able to dive right in and get going without a hitch. The few obvious changes don’t seem especially substantial at first. Progression is now fully linear, with players no longer having a say in the stage order or the ability to bypass certain ones. This is less impactful than you might think, though, as both games are short and the option to skip portions of the first was never particularly appealing anyway. Additionally, new between-level cut scenes feature the whole Ranger gang commenting on each twist and turn in the hunt for Fat Cat. So although the story may not be any deeper per se, it’s indisputably better told and bears a stronger resemblance to its animated inspiration. It’s nice to see Gadget, Monterey Jack, and Zipper contributing to the adventure in some way, even if they’re not playable.

Where Rescue Rangers 2 truly manages to excel, however, is in its revamped boss fights. Dealing with stage bosses in the previous installment was both trivial and repetitive. Pick up the red ball, toss it at the big target, repeat. Someone at Capcom clearly took that criticism to heart, because the foes here are constantly finding fresh and interesting ways to test your mastery of the basic throw mechanic. Often this means finding a way to dodge the enemy’s projectile attacks and then lobbing whatever they sent your way back at them, but sometimes the battle arena itself comes into play. You might have to struggle against the current of a waterfall throughout the fight or continually leap up to new platforms as the background auto-scrolls vertically and your present footing drops off-screen. In several instances, I got more enjoyment out of one of these encounters than I did the platforming level leading up to it, something that didn’t come close to happening in the original.

Other than that, there’s not much to say about this one. While not a massive step up by any means, it does look, play, and reflect its source material just a little bit better than its predecessor. The only element that doesn’t quite measure up is the soundtrack. Competent in their own right, Minae Fujii’s tunes don’t approach the richness of Hurumi Fujita’s. Certainly nothing here matches the brilliance of Fujita’s iconic Zone J theme. That singular caveat aside, Rescue Rangers 2 makes for an easy recommendation. This is choice Disney-Capcom goodness, pure pick-up-and-play fun that’s never too difficult for beginners or too dull for experts. It sadly came out far too late to make its mark with the masses, but you modern NES heads are in for a treat.

Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme: Screwed by late release.

DuckTales 2 (NES)

D-d-d-danger! Watch behind you! There’s a stranger out to find you! What to do? Just grab on to some DuckTales…2!

Yes, almost four years after 1989’s DuckTales became superstar publisher Capcom’s best-selling NES title, they returned to the Disney Afternoon well for this far less successful 1993 sequel. That’s not a knock on DuckTales 2’s quality, mind you, just a statement of fact. The NES was enjoying peak popularity circa 1989, but a DuckTales follow-up on the same aging hardware naturally struggled to be seen in an era when the Super Nintendo and Genesis were dominating the gaming press. Not to mention that production on the eponymous cartoon had ceased all the way back in 1990. Considering these factors, it should come as no surprise that DuckTales 2 is borderline obscure. An authentic copy will set you back a minimum of a couple hundred dollars at the time of this writing. Bad news if you don’t happen to be in old Scrooge McDuck’s tax bracket.

What do you get if you dip into your Money Bin for this one? The glib answer would be “more DuckTales.” On the surface, this is a pure redux. Moneyed mallard Scrooge is once again off on a globetrotting adventure, using his trusty cane to pogo platform through such exotic locales as the Bermuda Triangle and the lost continent of Mu in search of ancient treasures. He’s joined by his usual supporting cast, including grand-nephews Huey, Dewey, and Louie, bumbling pilot Launchpad McQuack, and jealous archrival Flintheart Glomgold. Inventor Gyro Gearloose shows up periodically to dispense cane upgrades useful for revealing paths to still more loot. As before, a Mega Man style stage select screen gives you full access to the five main levels from the get-go. You can even revisit completed locations to farm cash or 1-Ups if you wish, further mitigating the already modest difficulty.

That’s the typical DuckTales 2 summary, anyway. More of the same, albeit less popular due to its late release. Dig a little deeper, however, and substantial tweaks to the formula become apparent. A new between-stage shop means that Scrooge’s bank balance is no longer a glorified score. The extra lives, health-restoring cakes, and other goodies sold here are vital for smooth progression. Take the continue orb, for example, which does away with the first game’s harshest penalty by allowing you to, well, continue when you run out of lives, obviously. Overall, a great addition.

DuckTales 2 also attempts to outdo its predecessor by adding a secondary objective in the form of map pieces concealed in various out-of-the-way spots. Gather all seven and you’re rewarded with a trip to a hidden sixth level where you can win a unique treasure necessary to achieve the ideal ending. Although I appreciate the gesture, the implementation is lacking. While quite playable, this bonus area is built entirely out of reused assets from a main one. Considering the exploration time needed to assemble the full map without a guide, I was expecting something visually distinct at the very least.

Then there’s the small things that collectively make for an improved gameplay experience. Scrooge’s cane can now be used to hang from hooks (a mechanic seemingly lifted from Capcom’s own 8-bit Darkwing Duck adaptation) and to pull on certain blocks and switches. To heighten the adventure vibe, a handful of Indiana Jones-inspired puzzles call for switches to be pressed or objects pulled in specific ways in order to reveal secrets. Perhaps best of all, the boss battles have been given a much-needed shot in the arm. My favorite, the Mu golem, needs to be stunned by cane-propelled chunks of rubble to render it vulnerable to pogo jumps. Actual thought went into these fights for a change!

With its expanded quest, shop system, and other welcome enhancements, I could certainly understand some players favoring the deeper DuckTales 2 over the original. Personally, I wouldn’t go that far. As someone with no nostalgic ties to either, I found the presentation of the first to be superior in most respects. The bulk of DuckTales 2’s environments struck me as drab compared to what came before. The lone standout in my eyes was Egypt, and it still pales slightly next to the likes of Transylvania or the Moon from DuckTales. The remainder didn’t impress me at all on a visual level. They were essentially DuckTale’s sole forgettable setting, African Mines, writ large. Blah. Unfortunate as that is, the downgraded soundtrack is arguably worse. I can’t recall a single melody from the majority of these tunes, a stark contrast to the parade of earworms packed into the prior outing. It’s not all doom and gloom on the aural front, thankfully. Both Bermuda Triangle themes are glorious.

Taken as a total package, DuckTales 2 is an excellent little platformer with all the polish audiences had come to expect out of a Capcom-Disney collaboration. It makes for an easy general recommendation and is one I’ll surely revisit. Its only real sin, if you can call it that, is its relative lack of the intangible charm that propelled DuckTales ’89 to iconic status. The art and sound design simply aren’t on that same rarefied plane. Is this assessment petty on my part? Unfair, even? Maybe. This is my review, though, and I’ve got to call them as I see them. Otherwise, the whole exercise is as pointless as giving Scrooge McDuck another 11,342,000 bucks.

Mega Man X3 (Super Nintendo)

Second verse, same as the first! Yes, for the second week in a row, I’m reviewing a Capcom-published release featuring design work farmed out to contractor Minakuchi Engineering. And for the second week in a row, I’m not happy about it. This time, it’s 1995’s Mega Man X3. I actually wonder if I’m being cruel at this point. It was certainly never my intention to direct so much bile at these folks in so short a span of time. That said, it’s hardly my fault that they insisted on blighting some of my favorite Capcom franchises with the game design equivalent of cold oatmeal. I’ve gotta call ’em as I seem ’em.

As with Minakuchi’s Game Boy remake of Bionic Commando last week, my frustration stems from the fact that the exact same formula that made Mega Man X and X2 two of the best action-platformers of all-time is undoubtedly present here. Maverick hunter X and his partner Zero return to foil the latest scheme by archvillain Sigma to turn robots against humanity, this time with the aid of misguided patsy Dr. Doppler. You’re still expected to fight your way through eight stages in the order of your choice and claim their bosses’ signature weapons as your own before moving on to the final showdown with Doppler and Sigma. X3 even looks and sounds the part, with slick audiovisual stylings on par with those of previous installments. It’s all here…and it’s all so very dull.

I spent the better part of a day playing through X3 and I couldn’t for the life of me look at the majority of its levels now and tell you what their themes are supposed to be or which Maverick is associated with which one. I can tell you that they seemed long. Whether they’re really longer than X and X2’s, however, I’m not sure. They could well just feel that way due to their all-encompassing blandness. There are some ladders, I guess. There are corridors and some big, empty rooms. There’s an exceptionally small and forgettable cast of oddly durable cannon fodder enemies populating all of them. That’s about it. I searched in vain for cool settings like Storm Eagle’s airship from X or Crystal Snail’s glittering caverns from X2. No dice. I similarly found myself missing the memorable action set pieces, such as the out-of-control mine carts that sent you careening through Armored Armadillo’s lair in X. Finishing these levels isn’t especially rewarding, either, as neither the bosses nor the weapons you gain from them left much of an impression on me.

If Mega Man X3 was merely boring, that would be tragic enough. Unfortunately, its two most promising new features, the expanded upgrade system and the ability to play as Zero, are presented in a strange, almost passive-aggressive manner. Throughout the first eight stages, you can find and enter capsules that will equip X with an enhancement chip, allowing for potent extra abilities like health regeneration or a double air dash. You can install one chip of your choice, and once you do, you’re locked into using it for the rest of the game. Tough, but fair, right? Except that only if you go out of your way to avoid acquiring any of the four enhancement chips in the opening stages will you then be allowed to use all of them simultaneously during the endgame. Of course, you probably won’t realize beforehand that the capsules containing the chips are thus effectively beginner’s traps intended to screw you out of attaining X’s true ultimate form later on. How nice.

The mechanics governing Zero are no less obnoxious. While you can theoretically switch over to controlling him in lieu of X whenever you please, there are some severe, downright brutal caveats to that. He can’t be used against bosses or mini-bosses, for one thing, presumably to emphasize that our boy X is the real star of the show. Worse, if Zero dies at any point, the dude is just gone. As in, for the remainder of your current playthrough. It’s an utterly baffling, borderline mean way to implement a fan favorite character and I can’t excuse it on any grounds.

All told, my time with X3 was the least fun I’ve had with a Mega Man title to date. Is it a bad piece of work in general? Probably not. I’ve endured much worse, so in that sense, it’s largely adequate. I won’t hesitate to call it a bad spin on Mega Man, though. On the rare occasions it’s not a total snoozefest by series standards, it’s needling you with its terrible takes on good ideas. These are famously some of the most replayable games ever made, yet I can’t picture myself returning to X3. The only lesson I can draw from all this is once again that the gulf in talent between Capcom’s in-house staff and that of its erstwhile collaborator Minakuchi was wide indeed. I’ll give you one guess which of the two is still around today.

Bionic Commando (Game Boy)

It’s rare that I’ll cover a proper remake of a game. As a general thing, if the original was good enough to cash in on in that way, I’d rather just play it. Recently, though, a playthrough of one of my all-time favorite Capcom NES classics, 1988’s Bionic Commando, left me curious about its 1992 Game Boy remake. I had a vague memory of trying out the portable edition years ago and finding it pretty decent. Well, it’s clear to me now that I couldn’t have played it for that long, because the Game Boy Bionic Commando is a tragic case study in how to take one of the greatest action-platformers of the 8-bit era and mercilessly pile drive it into the dirt with butchered level design.

A firm called Minakuchi Engineering was responsible the actual design of this release, as opposed to Capcom themselves. It shows. Minakuchi was Capcom’s go-to contractor in the early ’90s, working on seemingly anything the latter didn’t feel like doing in-house. We’ve already seen one example of their spotty porting in Mega Man: The Wily Wars for Genesis, a compilation and supposed update of the first three Mega Man titles that somehow didn’t manage to play as well as its source material had on weaker hardware. In light of that, I should have had a better idea of what I was getting into here.

The plot of Bionic Commando for Game Boy is much the same as it was before. You play as Captain Nathan “Rad” Spencer, an elite soldier with a bionic grappling hook arm. Your mission is to rescue your comrade Super Joe (star of Commando and Mercs) from an evil empire and eliminate said empire’s mystery super weapon, codenamed Albatross, before it can be used to conquer the free world. The only thing missing this time is any trace of Hitler and the Nazis. NES Bionic Commando infamously climaxed with Rad killing off a resurrected Hitler via a graphic head explosion. The Game Boy replaces the dastardly dictator with a generic bearded fellow named Wiseman and omits the gore. I get that four years of hindsight probably made everyone involved more sensitive to potential controversy, but it really is less satisfying this way. What kind of jerk doesn’t enjoy blowing up Hitler?

Similarly, the overall structure and mechanics of the 1988 game remain recognizable. You still direct Rad’s helicopter around an overhead map screen to choose your stage, swing between platforms with your grapple arm rather than jumping, utilize the same selection of weapons and utility items, and so forth. The lion’s share of the changes were to the levels themselves. Areas on the Game Boy were made larger and trickier to navigate. Some were even re-imagined from scratch. This was presumably done in the interest of providing a longer campaign while also giving experienced players a fresh challenge. Unfortunately, such noble intentions alone didn’t enable the staff at Minakuchi to recapture what made the old stages so clever and engaging. Many of the memorable action set pieces, like Area 3’s giant carnivorous plant gauntlet and Area 5’s death-defying tower ascent, have been either severely pared-down or axed altogether. On top of that, the new layouts feature a heavy focus on quantity over quality. They strike me as bigger for bigness’ sake, with some sections having a blatant copy-and-paste feel to them. They’re often punishingly difficult, too. So much so that I, a guy who can beat the NES version without using a single continue, found myself dying dozens upon dozens of times to absurdly protracted pinpoint grappling segments.

This one colossal misstep effectively ruins this interpretation of Bionic Commando for me. That’s a real shame, as a few of the other additions here are genuinely welcome. The boss fights, easily the weakest part of the original’s gameplay, have been significantly improved, and the inclusion of a password system means that you’re no longer expected to complete the entire game in one go. The graphics are excellent by Game Boy standards and the soundtrack by Kouji Murata showcases a few nice new tunes on top of solid arrangements of Junko Tamiya’s already great prior compositions. Despite all that, I can’t in good conscience recommend this as anyone’s introduction to Bionic Commando. Nor can I recommend it to any but the most patient and forgiving of veterans. After all, what fun is a platformer without a worthwhile slate of levels to platform your way through? Minakuchi Engineering dropped the ball on this one, and it wouldn’t be for the last time.

Demon’s Crest (Super Nintendo)

I’ve loved Capcom’s superb early Game Boy effort Gargoyle’s Quest since its debut in 1990. It wasn’t until this year, however, that I got around to checking out its two sequels. Gargoyle’s Quest II on the NES represented a nice visual upgrade from its four-color handheld predecessor, but added little in the way of fresh gameplay or series lore.

That beings me to the final entry in the trilogy, 1994’s Demon’s Crest. Also known by the considerably less punchy Japanese moniker Demonzu Bureizon Makaimura Monshō-hen (“Demon’s Blazon: Demon World Village Crest Chapter”), Demon’s Crest aims for a Metroid-like feel with the introduction of branching level paths, backtracking, and multiple endings. Quite the departure for what started as a spin-off from the simple arcade platforming action of the Ghosts ‘n Goblins franchise. Unfortunately, while Demon’s Quest is drop-dead gorgeous and plays well, it never fully delivers on its big new ideas. The result is an above-average game that’s slightly less than the sum of its parts.

The player once again controls infernal antihero Firebrand the Red Arremer, who was right on the verge of gathering all six of the magic Crests necessary to achieve ultimate power and rule the Ghoul Realm when they were stolen away by rival demon Phalanx. Greatly weakened, Firebrand must now scour the land and do battle with Phalanx’s minions in order to reclaim the Crests and take his rightful place on top of the underworld food chain.

I can’t overemphasize what a looker Demon’s Crest is. From one of the most intricately animated title screens of the era onward, it positively oozes Gothic flair. The colossal decomposing dragon that serves as Firebrand’s first opponent is a triumph of 16-bit spritework and sets the tone for rest of the cast. Mega Man veteran Toshihiko Horiyama’s eerie faux-pipe organ soundtrack completes one cohesive fantasy-horror aesthetic. It’s damn impressive for the time and hardware.

In terms of control, Firebrand retains all of his moves from the 8-bit days. He can breathe fire, hover in the air (indefinitely this time), and cling to walls. New to this installment are the titular Crests. Equipping one of these will transform Firebrand into an alternate gargoyle form with its own abilities. The earth gargoyle can smash through certain obstables, the water gargoyle can swim, the air gargoyle is capable of true flight (as opposed to merely hovering), and so on.

Here’s where that Metroid influence I mentioned factors in. The seven stages include hidden paths that can only be fully explored using the proper Crest. Demon’s Crest is unusual in that you can challenge and defeat Phalanx at almost any time. I managed it about an hour in before I knew what I was doing. The catch is that the more of the Crests you acquire first, the fancier your ending will be. There’s even a semi-secret ultimate boss after Phalanx that you need to collect every single item to access. Thus, you’ll want to visit each of these areas at least twice if you hope to bring Firebrand’s journey to a satisfying conclusion.

It sure sounds promising, doesn’t it? Exploring these huge environments with your ever-expanding assortment of powers? Except they’re not huge at all. Levels in Demon’s Crest are a far cry from the twisty labyrinths of Metroid. They’re over before you know it and the enemies inhabiting them aren’t very threatening, with the major exception of the end bosses. Taken as a whole, there’s barely any more territory to cover here than there was on the Game Boy and NES . The core mechanics of a grand exploratory adventure are all present, the world design simply doesn’t allow for them to be used to their full potential.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Having a good idea and not going far enough with it is hardly the worst sin a game can commit. Demon’s Crest is a blast while it lasts, especially those spectacular boss fights. The only part I genuinely loathed was, strangely, the whack-a-mole style headbutt mini-game. This is mainly an optional activity Firebrand can engage in for a little extra cash. No harm there. My issue is that you need to be able to finish a round at the highest difficulty setting in order to earn one of the items required to fight the true final boss. It was just short of an eternity before I was finally able to smash 25 skulls within the time limit, meaning that this silly mini-game may actually be the most challenging part of Demon’s Crest. That seems wrong somehow.

Alas, this was the end of the road for our boy Firebrand as a leading man. Or leading gargoyle monster…thing, I guess. As of this writing, his playable appearances post-Demon’s Crest have been limited to a few of the Marvel Vs. Capcom fighting games. That’s a shame, because as good as Demon’s Crest is, Capcom could have doubled down on its exploration component to craft an even better follow-up. Will we ever see the surprise announcement of a Gargoyle’s Quest IV? I wouldn’t bet on it. Then again, Konami revived Getsu Fūma Den in 2021 after a staggering 34-year hiatus, so maybe there’s a chance in hell for my favorite demon after all.

Rockman & Forte (Super Famicom)

I’ve long been fascinated by so-called “black sheep” installments in successful gaming franchises. These are the entries that are almost always spoken of disparagingly. When they’re spoken of at all, that is. Forming my own firsthand opinions of these digital punching bags has proven to be one of the most rewarding aspects of this little writing exercise of mine. I either end up unearthing an unjustly maligned gem (Castlevania: Dracula X) or I arrive at a fuller understanding of the countless ways in which tampering with a winning formula can result in a real dud (Castlevania II: Simon’s Quest). Either way, it’s enlightening.

To say that Rockman & Forte (better known outside Japan as Mega Man & Bass) is unpopular with Mega Man fans would be a comic understatement. People despise this one! Some of that may be due to first experiencing it via its botched 2002 Game Boy Advance port, which suffers from severe screen crunch that renders the already challenging combat and platforming of the Super Famicom version outright broken. Beyond that, it’s been called out for the supposed lack of balance between its two playable heroes, its wholesale recycling of graphics and enemies from Mega Man 8, and more. Yikes! I can’t wait to dive in!

If you’re wondering why Rockman & Forte never saw release on the Super Nintendo, it’s almost certainly down to its absurdly late debut in 1998. That’s smack dab in the middle of the PlayStation and N64 era, long past the point where the potential international sales might have justified the expense of localization. In any case, the very idea of a Super Famicom game inheriting art assets from a PlayStation one just blows my mind.

As the name implies, Rockman and Forte’s main gimmick is having Rock (Mega Man) team up with his villainous rival Forte (Bass) to battle a new robot enemy named King, who’s attempting to unite robots against humanity. Mega Man wants to prevent this for altruistic reasons, of course, while Bass is dispatched by his creator, the evil Dr. Wily, to retake the headquarters King stole from Wily.

The choice of Mega Man or Bass is an exclusive one and must be made at the start of a new playthrough. The pair present markedly different ways to approach the same set of stages. Mega Man starts out with his iconic slide maneuver and Mega Buster charge shot. Bass’ controls are reminiscent of the newer Mega Man X games, in that he can dash and double jump. Bass also makes up for his lack of a charge shot by being able to aim his rapid-fire Buster in seven directions. In practice, Mega Man’s more damaging Buster gives him an advantage against certain bosses, but Bass’ supreme platforming ability and multi-directional shooting make him the stronger character overall. I’d highly recommend newcomers learn the levels as Bass before attempting a Mega Man run.

Per usual, eight robot masters stand between your chosen hero and the finale. Much to my dismay, Rockman & Forte apes Mega Man 7’s unfortunate tendency to limit your options in terms of the order you can take these guys on in. You’re given a initial slate of three masters to pick from, each of which will grant access to some of the others when defeated. Beating Cold Man, for example, opens the path to Burner Man and Pirate Man’s levels. As stated in my Mega Man 7 review, I don’t understand what taking a defining feature of the series, picking your own path, and arbitrarily limiting it like this is supposed to accomplish other than decreasing the replay value. It’s baffling. Additionally, two masters, Astro Man and Tengu Man, previously appeared in Mega Man 8. They do at least have new attack patterns here, though, so I find this a lot easier to forgive.

Regardless of what order you tackle these stages in, you’re in for a struggle. Rockman & Forte has a well-earned reputation as one of the toughest Mega Man outings. Enemies can dish out a ton of damage and have a tendency to be placed in the most sadistic, borderline unfair spots possible. There’s likely more genuine “gotcha, sucker” enemy placement going on here than in the rest of the classic series combined. Compounding this is the absence of energy tanks, making Rockman & Forte the first Mega Man since the 1987 original to lack these helpful healing items. Your best best is to visit the shop frequently, where you can exchange your bolt currency for much-needed upgrades to your defense and offense. The endgame will prove nearly impossible without smart use of these enhancements.

Rockman & Forte can be maddeningly difficult, often for the wrong reasons. The needlessly limited progression irks me, and it shoehorns in a silly CD collection side quest that isn’t worth the effort for the meager reward (a Mega Man trivia gallery). Even so, I’m of a mind that it still has more good points than bad and is ultimately underrated. The Mega Man fan community can be rather solipsistic, in that it tends to consider these games strictly in relation to one another. Would I rank this one particularly high by that standard? No. In the broader context of 2-D action platformers, however, most any Mega Man title is above the curve. This is anything but a bad game in the conventional sense. It controls well, looks stunning (as you’d expect from repurposed next gen graphics), and has an amazing selection of robot master weapons to acquire. Above all, the two character angle pays off well enough to justify a second playthrough. Blasting through the world of classic Mega Man as a bad guy for a change is quite the pleasing novelty. I can’t in good conscience recommend Rockman & Forte to inexperienced players, but veterans who know it only by its dismal rep may be surprised at how much it has to offer.

Chip ‘n Dale Rescue Rangers (NES)

In the wake of the earthshaking sensory overload that is Lords of Thunder, I figure I should wind down with something a bit less intense. Another of Capcom’s Disney-licensed platformers for the good old NES should do nicely.

Chip ‘n Dale Rescue Rangers from 1990 is based on the cartoon series of the same name that debuted the year prior as part of the Disney Afternoon syndicated programming block. The show saw the long-established chipmunk duo Chip and Dale teaming up with a new supporting cast to form a slapstick animal crime fighting squad. It represented a major resurgence for its title characters, who hadn’t enjoyed a starring role since their original run of theatrical shorts ended in 1956. Rescue Rangers was a hit, running for three seasons, and is supposedly due for a live-action film revival in 2022. Let’s pray that works out better than it did for Alvin and the Chipmunks, huh?

Successful as it was, Rescue Rangers always toiled in the shadow of its Disney Afternoon predecessor, DuckTales. Perhaps it’s fitting, then, that its inaugural video game adaptation does the same. The 8-bit incarnation of DuckTales outsold Rescue Rangers by a comfortable margin and remains a regular on the various “top ten NES games” lists circulating online. I’ve yet to see Rescue Rangers make such a list. That’s a shame, because while NES DuckTales is no doubt a charmer, it’s arguably a less complete experience than Rescue Rangers and I hesitate to call it a superior game overall.

Your task in Rescue Ranger is to guide Chip and/or Dale as they attempt to save their comrade, the inventor mouse Gadget, from the clutches of recurring series antagonist Fat Cat. This requires conquering up to eleven side-scrolling stages filled with enemies and environmental dangers. I say “up to eleven” because you can potentially reach the end in as few as eight if you select the appropriate path on the between-stage map. That said, it’s a short playthrough by any measure, so I don’t see the point in skipping any of it unless you’re into speedrunning.

These levels are impressively varied, both in terms of visuals and gameplay. The opening area makes a strong first impression with its mix of horizontal and vertical scrolling as our heroes start out battling Fat Cat’s robot dogs on the city streets before scampering up a utility pole and across hazardous live wires. Chip and Dale’s size was taken into account when designing the backgrounds, which showcase a plethora of everyday items made to appear larger than life. While this is quite clever, the scale doesn’t always make sense. Seeing the two rodents dwarfed by relatively small things like test tubes and water faucets makes them seem closer in stature to insects. At the same time, their enemies include kangaroos and even rhinos (!) only slightly larger than they are. Try not to think too hard about it like I do and you’ll be fine.

The core platforming here is simple, yet highly satisfying. Chip and Dale control identically. They can run, jump, and attack by picking up the many loose objects scattered around the stages (usually boxes) and hurling them at the opposition Super Mario Bros. 2 style. They can also use these objects defensively by crouching to hide inside one and then letting the enemy take damage on contact with it. A useful maneuver, although I’m not clear on how touching a stationary box is supposed to inflict harm in this instance. Power-ups are limited to temporary invincibility, a power drink that allows Chip and Dale to lift things faster, and acorns to replenish their three-hit health meters. Extra lives are earned by collecting a set number of flower and star icons. Fifty and ten, respectively. That’s all there is to it.

Well, almost all. Rescue Rangers includes a feature that sets its apart from Capcom’s other Disney releases for the system: A two-player simultaneous mode. This adds some welcome chaos to the proceedings. Chip and Dale can momentarily stun one another with poorly aimed attacks. More amusingly, they can actually pick up and carry each other. Want revenge on your buddy for pelting you with all those boxes? Snatch the sucker up and huck him into a pit! You can use this ability benevolently, too. If one chipmunk is struggling with a series of jumps, he can literally be carried through the problem section by his partner. What fun is that, though?

One key thing Rescue Rangers has going for it that DuckTales in particular doesn’t is a fully realized climax. Rather than sending you back to a level you’ve already completed to fight a last boss who has nothing to do with the plot, Rescue Rangers pits you against Fat Cat himself in his trap-filled hideout, which happens to have the coolest music track in the game. There’s nothing exceptional about a finale like this, of course. It’s the bare minimum, really, and normally only bears mentioning in absentia. Since Rescue Rangers is so frequently overshadowed by DuckTales, however, I thought it worth noting. Ironically, the two games share a significant flaw in mediocre boss encounters. Similar to how every DuckTales boss fell to a few easy pogo hops, every Rescue Rangers boss dies to a few whacks from the red rubber ball conveniently placed in the arena.

Quibbling over whether DuckTales or Rescue Rangers is the “real” best NES Disney game is ultimately pretty petty. I’m not wholly above it, obviously, but I do recognize that it’s beside the point. Both are gorgeous pick-up-and-play platformers based on beloved characters. Both benefit from forgiving difficulty (by contemporary standards) and the typical high quality game design Capcom is celebrated for to this day. Some players will prefer the open-ended exploration and novel pogo jump mechanic of DuckTales and some will gravitate toward the faster-paced multiplayer action of the comparatively linear Rescue Rangers. Vive la différence!

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.