Arcana (Super Nintendo)

Having previously covered all of the big name Super Nintendo RPGs, your Chrono Triggers and EarthBounds and Final Fantasy VIs, I may as well dip back into some more obscure titles. Such a one is Arcana, HAL Laboratory’s largely forgotten 1992 stab at a Wizardry style first-person dungeon crawl with an intriguing visual aesthetic, a brilliant soundtrack, and…not much else.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Arcana follows Rooks, a young warrior tasked with saving the mystical land of Elemen from a wizard who’s overthrown the rightful king and now plots to revive an ancient evil deity in order to attain ultimate power. Yeah, you’ve almost certainly heard this exact setup before, and I wish I could say HAL put a clever spin on it, or at least tossed in a respectable plot twist or two. Alas, no. Instead, it’s fantasy world saving business as usual, with Rooks and his rotating cast of generic companions charting their way through various mazes on the hunt for magic MacGuffins.

We may not get a very interesting story, but we are treated to Arcana’s unique artistic choice to depict every character and monster in Elemen (except the shopkeepers) as a stylized playing card. I’m 99% sure this is meant to be a metaphorical creative flourish for the player’s enjoyment, and that none of these beings are really intended to be walking, talking cards. It is quite striking, however, and even serves a gameplay function, as the color of a monster’s card border indicates its affiliation with the four elements of earth, air, fire, and water. There’s a rock-paper-scissors dynamic between the four elements that should be familiar to any Pokémon fan. Against a fire monster, for example, it behooves you to break out the water attacks and exploit its innate defensive weakness to that element.

This elemental angle also ties into Rooks’ ability to call on four spirit companions to fill out the party roster. He starts out with access to Sylph, the air spirit, and unlocks the remaining three at preset points in the story. Only one spirit can be active at time, though Rooks can freely toggle between any of the available ones at will. Generally speaking, spirits have weak defense and physical attacks due to their inability to equip weapons and armor. They compensate for this with their broad range of potent spells. That, and the fact that they automatically regenerate health and magic power with each step, unlike human characters.

The moment-to-moment experience of exploring mazes and engaging in random turn-based battles with the monsters therein works well enough, I guess, with the caveat that it’s all extremely basic. There are no traps, secret doors, or memorable landmarks in any of these dungeons, only open corridors dotted with the occasional treasure chest. It’s actually a step below the first Phantasy Star in this respect, if you can believe that. On the plus side, Arcana does include a handy auto-map feature, which is more than I can say for many games in this sub-genre.

Taken purely as a simple, repetitive dungeon crawler with some cool art and an excellent score by veteran Kirby composers Jun Ishikawa and Hirokazu Ando, Arcana might well merit a tepid recommendation. Unfortunately, its poor localization and serious design flaws need to be accounted for, too, and together they prevent it from rising to the level of mediocre.

How bad is this translation? Let’s just say that there are numerous points where you’ll find yourself staring at a string of text and wondering what the speaker is even attempting to convey. At one point, a villain burst in and seized one of my party members, proclaiming “Wait, don’t move. The Princess is dying. I wonder, Rooks!” He then ran off with said princess in tow. Eventually, I pieced together that he was meant to be saying something along the lines of “Don’t move or the Princess dies.” I still have no clue what he was wondering about. This isn’t an exception, either. The majority of the dialog reads like people nursing major head injuries yelling past each other. It’s a mess, and rarely in the funny Zero Wing sort of way that might redeem it a tad.

In addition to a mutilated script, Arcana incorporates several distinctly player-hostile design choices. Oddly enough, one of them was shared by the last RPG I reviewed, Tengai Makyō: Ziria. That is, any time one of your human allies is defeated in combat, you’re hit with an instant game over. It’s worse here than it was in Ziria, in fact, since you don’t just get sent back to town and docked a bit of gold when it happens. You have no choice but to load your last save, potentially losing significant progress. Two RPGs in a row pulling this exact nonsense on me! What are the odds?

Similarly rude is Arcana’s tendency to have new characters join your party deep inside dungeons without a shred of gear on their persons. Of course, they’re practically useless in this state, forcing you to choose between warping back to town for a trip to the weapon shop or pressing on and hoping you can survive the remainder of the challenges ahead with one of your allies effectively naked. You could theoretically prepare for this and bring a few spare items along with you, yet how would you know when to do so and what to bring on an initial playthrough without consulting a guide? The cynic in me suspects the designers knew you’d be caught off guard by this and feel compelled to backtrack, thereby lengthening the total play time.

Arcana makes a strong first impression with its singular presentation. Sadly, the creative visual theming and sweet music ultimately weren’t enough to salvage the whole production for me. This is a surprisingly poor effort from the typically reliable HAL. If they’d opted for a less obnoxious approach to character death, given new recruits some no-frills starting equipment, and put in the extra effort to polish up the English text, it still wouldn’t be an exceptional example of the form, merely a tolerable one. Oh, well. I suppose every pack has its joker.

EarthBound (Super Nintendo)

EarthBound confounds me. I don’t mean that it frustrates me. Not usually, anyway. Only that I’ve struggled for years, decades really, to understand why I find it as wonderful as I do. Lacking the ability to string the necessary words together in my own head, it’s no wonder getting them down in writing has been a greater challenge still. In any case, here I go!

Despite having gradually ensconced itself as one of the Super Nintendo’s quintessential classics, this 1994 sleeper hit RPG does have its detractors. They typically point first and foremost to its simplistic and highly derivative mechanics, which are obviously lifted wholesale from genre trailblazer Dragon Quest. These include the mix of overhead exploration with first-person turn-based combat, the basic “fight, magic, item, run” nature of said combat, and the cumbersome, claustrophobic inventory system. EarthBound’s presentation doesn’t escape criticism, either. In contrast to the lush landscapes and painterly monster art of other acclaimed 16-bit RPGs, the graphics here employ a flat, naive style reminiscent of children’s drawings. Instead of sweeping faux-orchestras, our ears are treated to a chaotic soundscape cobbled together out of disconnected pop samples, off-kilter Americana, and ’50s monster movies. To the uninitiated, it can be baffling how such a title could belong in the same conversation as slick SNES showpieces like Chrono Trigger and Secrets of Mana at all, let alone how it could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with them.

I can sympathize to an extent. EarthBound’s onerous inventory management in particular is a sore spot for me. It invariably takes up a much larger chunk of any playthrough than I reckon anyone would prefer. That said, attempts to dismiss it as merely wacky Dragon Quest with weird music and sub-par visuals is anything but fair to the vision of prolific writer and part time game designer Shigesato Itoi of Ape Inc. (now Creatures Inc.) and the stellar teams at HAL Laboratory and Nintendo that united to make that vision a reality.

What appears on the surface to be a straightforward story about four tweens with psychic powers uniting to stave off an alien invasion of Earth ultimately taps into something I believe to be significantly more fundamental, indeed powerful: Nostalgia for childhood. I mean that in the broadest sense possible. The recognition and longing EarthBound evokes throughout is for the condition of being a child itself, carefree within a seemingly boundless existence, as opposed to a sequence of comparatively lazy callbacks to the fashion or popular culture of any given generation of kids. This is especially obvious, of course, when you consider that it’s the second installment in a series named Mother in its native Japan. The connection between main protagonist Ness and his mother is heavily emphasized, to the extent that he’s periodically subject to a unique homesickness status effect that hampers him in battle and is incurable except by phoning or visiting her. In light of this, I doubt there was anything accidental about the decision to model the game’s systems so closely on Dragon Quest’s. As the definitive Japanese RPG franchise, it’s the electronic equivalent of comfort food for millions of gamers in that region. In other words, it feels like home.

If all that sounds a little too esoteric or high concept for you to swallow, I can only point out that I was sixteen when EarthBound was released. Unlike many, I was fortunate enough to have played it at launch. I can assure you that thread of wistfulness, that gentle reminder of how much my outlook had changed in just the last handful of years, was absolutely present from the get-go. To see the world through a child’s eyes is something unspeakably precious we’re all doomed to lose, with that very loss being paradoxically beautiful in its ability to unite and ground us in a universal human experience.

Oh, and let’s not forget that it’s funny. Legitimately laugh-out-loud funny from beginning to end. This is no small prize. Good comedy is tough under ideal conditions. Delivering mountains of it in an early ’90s console game that needed its entire massive script translated verges on a miracle. There’s a case to be made that it was the single funniest game yet made in 1994 and virtually all its gags hold up admirably today.

If none of what I’ve said has connected with you and the game remains crude, shallow, and overrated in your eyes, that’s fine. Whether or not there’s truly some deeper layer to the absurdist antics of Ness and his pals, EarthBound remains special; a singular joyous creation that’s destined to continue growing in stature for the foreseeable future. So perhaps the meaning it apparently supplies for itself as part of its famous mid-game “coffee break” interlude works as well as any: “There are many difficult times ahead, but you must keep your sense of humor, work through the tough situations and enjoy yourself.” Makes sense to me.

Kirby’s Adventure (NES)

Anniversaries are weird. How to get to grips with the fact that I’ve now devoted five years and nearly 400,000 words (that’s four average length novels!) to reviewing over 300 classic games? It boggles my mind, especially when I consider that I had to finish each and every one of those games fair and square before I could get down to writing. Some of them rank among the most brutal ever unleashed on the public, too. I’m looking at you, Battletoads and R-Type. I figure it’s only possible because I haven’t been in the habit of thinking about it on such a scale. Instead, I’ve just kept plugging away, one week at a time, at whatever’s in front of me. That’s applied psychology for you.

Regardless of how I wound up here, I think I’ve earned myself a treat in the form of a truly special title for the console nearest and dearest to my heart, the Nintendo Entertainment System. Well, it turns out that “special” hardly begins to describe 1993’s Kirby’s Adventure. This fan favorite tour de force stands at the apex of mature NES development. The ace team at HAL Laboratory pulled out all the stops for this one. A decade of experience and a then massive 768 KB of cartridge ROM fueled the creation of a platforming masterpiece so vibrant, so packed to the gills with novelty that it makes Famicom Donkey Kong look like a Neolithic cave painting. 768 KB of memory doesn’t seem like a lot now, but it’s almost twenty times what the the makers of the system’s iconic all-time bestseller, Super Mario Bros., had to work with.

All this care and attention couldn’t have been lavished on a nicer guy. Kirby’s Adventure is the sophomore outing of HAL’s irrepressible grinning blob of a mascot and it’s a huge step up from what came before. While Kirby’s Dream Land for Game Boy did a fine job of introducing the character and his whimsical world, it was ludicrously short at a mere four stages. It felt closer to a proof of concept than a full-fledged retail release. Kirby’s Adventure makes up for that shortcoming and then some, with 39 distinct levels spread out over seven themed worlds. There’s even a neat selection of bonus mini-games you can play to rack up extra lives. I’m partial to the Wild Gunmen-inspired quick draw contest. Cowboy Kirby is too cute.

Kirby’s goal this time is to recover the Star Rod, a sacred artifact necessary to maintain the magical spring that produces dreams for sleepers everywhere. Returning antagonist King Dedede has broken the rod into seven pieces and given them to seven bosses for safekeeping. Reassembling the Rod will be a tall order. Luckily, Kirby is up to the task. His newfound copy ability lets him absorb the special skill of the most recent opponent he’s inhaled. There are two dozen distinct powers in total, including fire, ice, and laser blasts, weapons like the hammer and sword, transformations into ball, tornado, and UFO forms, wrestling moves, and more.

It’s no wonder that the copy mechanic became a Kirby staple going forward, as it represents an added dimension to dealing with foes that isn’t present in other platformers. On top of wondering how to defeat or bypass each new type, you’re also eager to discover what new capability it can potentially grant you. This “enemies as power-ups” framework affords both developers and players alike room for endless experimentation. Couple it with the lovable design of Kirby himself and you have the recipe for one of gaming’s most cherished franchises.

Per series tradition, Kirby’s Adventure prioritizes broad accessibility over hardcore challenge. I certainly died more than I did in Kirby’s Dream Land, but that’s just a natural consequence of making the sequel so much longer. The moment to moment gameplay remains as forgiving as before, thanks to the generous health bar, steady stream of 1-Ups, and unlimited continues. A thoughtful auto-save feature allows you to take breaks as needed. A harder mode becomes available after you attain a 100% completion rating on a regular playthrough. Although I would prefer it to be a default option, it does at least exist to add to the long-term replay value.

In case I somehow haven’t made it abundantly clear by now, Kirby’s Adventure excels on virtually every front. Its soundtrack is lush and expansive, running the gamut from serene lullabies to one pulse-pounding final boss theme. Its pixel art and animation are second to none on the system. Dream Land is a pastel wonderland anyone would be happy to visit, filled as it is with adorable critters of all descriptions. When all is said and done, however, it’s still the action that deserves top billing. Our intrepid pink puffball really comes into his own here via the copy ability, and that has me more excited than ever to step into his funny little red shoes again in the years to come. Years? Hmm. Best not to dwell on that.

Uchuu Keibitai SDF (Famicom)

A few months back, I took a look at Nexzr, an overhead shooter for the PC Engine that’s noted for its difficulty. I concluded that despite its brutal checkpoint system and minimalist mechanics, Nexzr is still well worth playing. Its satisfying storytelling, clever stage and enemy design, and tough-but-fair philosophy are all hallmarks of a quality title.

Uchuu Keibitai SDF (“Space Guard SDF”), on the other hand, is essentially Nexzr without any of those redeeming features. It’s also a rare misfire from HAL Laboratory, an outfit that’s been turning out legendary games like clockwork for over forty years now. Whereas I came away from Nexzr with a lot of respect and little bit of love, I positively hated my experience with SDF. I knew I’d never revisit this one long before the credits rolled.

Judging by the admittedly limited English language information available on the Japan-exclusive SDF, the story here is a standard “lone Earth pilot against aliens” one that plays out over seven stages. Your unseen hero’s ship starts out equipped with the usual forward pea shooter and you can swap this out for one of three special weapons by grabbing the corresponding icons placed at set locations. Your choices are a cone-shaped spread, a narrow penetrating laser, and a so-called “bulcan” (vulcan) that fires to either side. Each weapon naturally excels in specific situations. The laser deals the most damage to bosses, for example, and the vulcan’s unusual shot pattern is ideal for clearing pesky wall turrets out of the many claustrophobic corridors you’ll be navigating. Acquiring the same weapon’s icon multiple times in a row will further power it up to a maximum level of three.

Picking up any special weapon also adds a pair of small red shields to the front of your ship. These provide limited protection from enemy shots and collisions. I say “limited” because they can’t block the bigger attacks (such as many boss projectiles) and they’ll be destroyed if they sustain too much damage. Imperfect as they are, they’re your only defensive tool. Pressing the A button will prompt the shields to detach and reposition themselves on the back side of your ship. In addition to providing some rear protection, this will allow you to fire missile volleys if your special weapon power is at level two or higher.

While this is a rather bare bones arsenal by 1990 standards, it covers the bases adequately. SDF looks and sounds pretty decent, as well. Where it ultimately fails is in its overarching player-hostile design. The stages themselves are filled to the brim with sudden assaults, off-screen attacks, and other assorted “gotcha” moments. Checkpoints and power-up opportunities are few and far-between. You do have auto-fire capability, but it’s drastically slower than tapping away manually and simply doesn’t cut it in the heat of combat. In other words, go out and buy a turbo controller, dummy! Oh, and SDF doesn’t do scoring. At all. That’s a new one on me. How exactly does one miss something so fundamental to a shooting game? Even Space Invaders kept score! No scoring means no earning extra lives via extends, too. Joy.

I played through the first six stages of SDF in a constant state of simmering annoyance that would periodically boil over into true resentment whenever I fell prey to an especially obnoxious beginner’s trap. If I’d known what it had in store for me next, however, I might well have appreciated how good I had it. The final level here has to be one of the all-time sickest jokes played on the Famicom audience. Weapons are scarcer than ever and there aren’t enough of them to power-up fully. Unless you can manage to hold onto your upgrades from the previous area all the way to the end of this one, you’ll be forced to take on the boss at less than your full strength. Here’s the kicker, though: The solitary checkpoint is right at the boss itself. Die so much as a single screen before that and you start the whole mess anew. Die to the boss and you’ll have no access to weapon or speed upgrades again until you game over fully. I spent more time suffering this diabolic grind of a finale than the rest of the game combined. I’m talking hours. If I wasn’t the most inhumanly stubborn gamer I know, I’d have thrown in the towel long before I was finally able to finish off that stupid space fetus.

So, yeah, I utterly despise Uchuu Keibitai SDF. It’s the worst kind of shooter in my eyes: The kind with real potential to sour newcomers on the genre. If it wasn’t for unlimited continues, it would verge on the legitimately unplayable. As a HAL production, it more than holds its own technically. I just wish its designers has been able to keep their outrageous sadism in check. If you’re searching for standout shoot-’em-up on the Famicom, allow me to direct you to Gradius II or Crisis Force instead.

Alcahest (Super Famicom)

Alcahest is not the sort of work you’d expect to see from developer HAL Laboratory or publisher Square. It’s neither a cutesy pastel romp à la HAL’s Kirby nor an epic RPG in the vein of Square’s own Final Fantasy. Perhaps that’s why it didn’t get an international release in 1993, as many Japanese gaming companies, then and now, are hesitant to bring anything potentially strange or off-brand to Western territories. Not that Alcahest is all that weird per se. It’s a straightforward fantasy hack-and-slasher with ultra-light adventure elements. Oh, well. As it is, this is yet another case of fan translators to the rescue. Just be aware that you’ll need to patch the game twice for full functionality. First with F.H.’s base translation, then with KingMike’s password fix. Trust me, it’s worth it.

The eponymous Alcahest is a big, bad demon god who was vanquished a thousand years back by a legendary swordsman. These defeats never seem to stick for whatever reason, so now Alcahest is in the process of reviving. Fortunately, the ancient swordsman has been similarly reincarnated as your player character, Alen. He’s tasked with gathering four guardian spirits and their corresponding magic swords to banish Alcahest for another millennium. It’s a 100% stock setup, and you shouldn’t expect any real twists or turns throughout. This story is a no-frills excuse to dice up hoards of monsters, nothing more.

Between the fantasy theme and overhead view, you may be primed to expect an immersive Legend of Zelda or SoulBlazer style adventure out of Alcahest. That would be an error. There’s no open overworld to explore, no sleepy towns and villages to visit. Instead, you have a sequence of eight largely linear stages to complete, with only the occasional short branching path leading to a bonus item or two. And don’t mistake the tally at the top of the screen for an RPG experience point counter. That’s your score, and its sole purpose is to earn you extra lives. That’s right, you can actually run out of lives and get a game over here. It’s not as scary as it sounds, thankfully, since you’re given a password at the start of each level.

Seeing as Alcahest is a nearly pure action game, I’m pleased to report that it handles combat well. Alen can walk, run, and swing his sword in eight directions. He can also block frontal attacks with his shield and perform charged attacks with effects determined by the sword he has equipped. Beyond these basic maneuvers, he can spend some of his magic bar as needed to briefly summon a guardian spirit, who will perform a powerful attack before departing. It’s all quick, satisfying, and reasonably varied.

One final set of handy abilities comes in the form of Alen’s five companions. This diverse lot includes a wizard, a princess, and a dragon goddess. For the most part, they come and go at the whim of the plot. Not until the final boss rush area are you permitted to swap between them as desired. In addition to trailing behind and automatically attacking anything hostile nearby, a companion has his or her own special move. The wizard damages everything on-screen with a fiery blast, for example, and the princess can heal Alen of damage. These powers are limited to a certain number of uses, of course, as indicate by a third gauge alongside the ones representing Alen’s health and magic.

That’s really all you need to know to get into Alcahest. It’s obviously a quality title from an experienced team (one that included future Nintendo president Satoru Iwata), and more than makes up for its modest scope with solid execution. If you’re in the mood for roughly two hours of brisk, accessible action, I can’t recommend it enough. It doesn’t disappoint on the audiovisual front, either. While by no means spectacular by 1993 standards, the spritework is pleasing, all the stages have their own visual identities, and the soundtrack hits all the regal fantasy notes it should. This is the very model of a underappreciated Super Famicom exclusive and would almost certainly be considered a minor SNES classic today if Square had only had more faith in it. Regardless, it’s one I’ll be revisiting in the years to come.

Kirby’s Dream Land (Game Boy)

How’s this for a shocking confession: I’d never played a Kirby title until now! Crazy, huh? Despite the thousand upon thousands of hours logged on various Nintendo consoles throughout my life, I’d yet to be properly introduced to video gaming’s most iconic carnivorous alien blob named after a lawyer.

Now, I know what you’re probably thinking. It’s a macho thing, right? Wrong. I have nothing against cute games. I’ve already given glowing reviews to several that cast their players as babies or cartoon penguins, after all. It’s more a matter of expectation. Kirby’s creators at HAL Laboratory have always made it clear that the series is intended for the broadest possible audience. Reading between the lines, I had assumed they meant small children. Now, I’m not trying to come off snobbish here. I don’t mind an easier game every now and again. At the same time, I’m also aware that if said game has, say, Sesame Street characters on the cover, it’s not likely to be my cup of tea.

Still, I’d always liked what little I’d seen of Kirby and he’s put in so many appearances over the years that I figured I had to be missing something. In the interest of satisfying my curiosity, I popped in my trusty Super Game Boy and fired up his 1992 debut outing, Kirby’s Dream Land. I’m glad I did. Is it easy? Yup. Short, too. My first full playthrough took me a little over twenty minutes. Much more importantly, though, it’s a master class in charm. From the title screen to the end credits, the crew at HAL didn’t miss a single opportunity to endear me to Kirby and his world.

A greedy bird named King Dedede has stolen all the food in Dream Land and young Kirby is the only…whatever he is…brave enough to win it back. Doing so requires conquering four side-scrolling stages (each with its own boss), followed by a recycled boss rush and, finally, Dedede himself. Yes, you heard right. There are a mere four levels in Kirby’s Dream Land, and none of them are particularly long. It’s actually this extreme brevity (rather than the expected lack of difficulty) that stands out as the game’s most disappointing feature for me. It’s a shame we couldn’t have gotten just a couple more locations to explore. One of them could have served as proper lair for Dedede, adding some welcome buildup to the last battle.

At least the areas we do get are all winners. Cheery graphics, laid back musical compositions, and occasional branching paths are the order of the day. The bosses really impressed me with their memorable designs and unique attack patterns. I was especially delighted to find that two of them are villainous versions of Lolo and Lala from HAL’s own Adventures of Lolo (aka Eggerland), who assault our hero in tandem by nudging blocks at him in classic Eggerland fashion.

Controlling Kirby is a piece of cake. Other than the expected running and jumping, he’s defined by two closely related moves. First, he can suck up most enemies like a chubby vacuum cleaner and spit them back out as deadly missiles. Second, he can inhale air to inflate himself. This theoretically allows for indefinite flight, although he will need to release the held air if he wants to go on the offensive. Other than a handful of basic temporary power-ups (hot curry for fire breath, candy for invincibility, etc), that’s all. If you were hoping to employ Kirby signature copy ability here, you’re out of luck. It wasn’t introduced until Kirby’s Adventure the following year.

There’s no denying that Kirby’s Dream Land is a what you’d call a slight game. A majority of players can be counted on finish it in a single brief sitting. There’s a code provided after the credits that will allow you to replay it with stronger enemies and less health if desired, but four stages is still four stages. If I’d bought it new at full price back in the day, I’d have been none too pleased with the amount of content for my buck. Assuming you can access it for cheap now, however, I highly recommend you do. Everything here is just so lovable. From the moment I defeated the first boss and was treated to Kirby’s elaborate celebratory dance number, I was sold on this plucky pink puffball and his wacky quest. Bring on those sequels!

Kabuki Quantum Fighter (NES)

I’ll do whatever you say, man. Just quit looking at me like that.

This little oddity is 1990’s Kabuki Quantum Fighter. If you’re looking for a game that combines gameplay and visual elements from a good half-dozen of the greatest NES action-platformers with one of the most forehead-slappingly stupid plots ever conceived, then you’ve come to the right place, my friend. Welcome.

The year is 2056 and some unknown party has inserted a super advanced virus into the world’s computer network. All conventional efforts to halt its spread have failed and it’s only a matter of time before the unknown invader gains control of the systems controlling all of earth’s nuclear weapons, dooming everyone. The last hope of humanity is 25 year-old badass soldier/computer expert Colonel Scott O’Connor. A colonel at 25? What is this, the Civil War?

Anyway, Scott volunteers to be hooked into an untested machine that will translate his mind into binary machine code so he can battle the virus on its own turf. Nobody is sure whether the device will work or what form Scott might take in the computer world.

So far, you’re probably thinking this just sounds like normal science fiction stuff. Sort of a cross between Tron and The Terminator. Well, as it turns out, our all-American soldier boy Scott’s disembodied mind coalesces into the virtual form of…a superhero kabuki dancer who whips enemies to death with his waist-length crimson hair and tosses computer chips like throwing stars. Supposedly, this is because his great grandfather was the famous kabuki Danjuro (O’Connor?) and the computer somehow keyed in on this.

It’s just so beautiful. Words can’t express how much I love this game’s mad storyline. The fact that it’s all played totally straight, with support characters glaring intently at computer monitors while the threat of imminent nuclear armageddon looms overhead, just renders it even funnier somehow. I’m not sure how much of this (if any) was intentional, but this is a game from Human Entertainment, makers of Monster Party and the Clock Tower series, so who the hell knows.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering if the story makes more sense in the original Japanese, the answer is “not particularly.” The game was originally called Jigoku Gokuraku Maru and was a very loose tie-in to the 1990 samurai fantasy adventure film Zipang. Instead of Scott O’Connor, the protagonist is a teenager named Bobby Yano and he takes on super kabuki form due to being a distant descendant of Jigoku, the hero of the film. Other than that, it’s just about equally crazy.

Once you start the game proper, Batman will probably be the first thing that comes to mind. The color palette and the designs and proportions of the character sprites are very similar to Sunsoft’s take on the Caped Crusader. Beyond the visuals, Kabuki Quantum Fighter’s sub-weapon system also mirrors Batman’s. Scott has a selection of projectile weapons he can utilize in addition to his primary hair whip attack. You cycle between these using the select button and they all consume varying amounts of ammunition (“chips”) from a shared pool. One last similarity is in the nature of the platforming itself. Most of the challenge involves grabbing onto the underside of ledges and platforms scattered throughout each level and then deftly vaulting off of them to progress, similar to how Batman’s platforming was built around wall jumping.

Next, you’ll likely notice the Ninja Gaiden and Contra elements. Stage backgrounds feature giant beating hearts, pulsating lengths of intestinal tract, deformed faces, alien fetuses, the whole H. R. Giger back catalog. Enemies are no picnic, either. You have detached heads shooting fire from their exposed brains, weird dog-frog hybrid critters, and more. While representing the computer virus you’re fighting with this kind of gruesome techno-horror imagery is rather cool, it’s also quite derivative of Capcom and Tecmo’s work.

Each boss you defeat earns you a new weapon to use? Mega Man. The whip-like reach and windup delay on your main attack? Castlevania. Notice enough of these similarities and you might start to think Kabuki Quantum Fighter doesn’t bring anything new to the mix. In fact, there’s a couple little twists to the formula I really like. For starters, your health and ammunition aren’t automatically refilled completely between levels. You do get some back, but if you just barely defeated the boss of the last stage with a tiny sliver of health left you can look forward to starting the next one with 50% health at most. This means precision really matters. The fewer mistakes you make in a given stage, the more you’ll be able to make in the subsequent, more challenging one. It’s a great way to reward mastery.

You also have the interesting ability to exchange health for ammunition (and vice-versa) when the game is paused. This only works during boss battles, but it can be a true lifesaver if you happen to find yourself down to your last bit of health and sitting on a big stockpile of chips. If there’s another action game that uses a similar mechanic, I’m not aware of it.

Despite this, though, Kabuki Quantum Fighter just isn’t a very original game. I am 100% okay with that, because when it’s running on all cylinders it provides some of the best pure platforming moments on the system. There may be only five levels here, but each one is a gem. What this game really amounts to is a series of intricate obstacle courses where you’re vaulting from outcropping to outcropping through a gauntlet of hazards, including enemies, spikes, slippery ice, rushing water, treadmills, and a strict time limit. The controls are so precise and the flow of the game so smooth that you just naturally fall into a Zen-like groove as you get a feel for each level. Even when you have plenty of time, it still feels so good to keep up that forward momentum as you flip and climb all over the scenery on your way to the next boss. It’s all about the flow.

The bosses themselves are another highlight. They’re all completely distinct from one another and very exciting to fight, with relatively complex attack patterns for a game of this type and vintage. The plant monster from level three and the spider robot from level four are definitely highlights. Beating these guys, especially without using your special weapons, is extremely satisfying.

The graphics and animation are excellent overall. I’ve already praised the bio-mechanical art design. Beyond that, humanoid characters like Scott himself and several of the bosses animate beautifully by NES standards. The music is also interesting, although it might be more interesting than memorable in the end. It’s very experimental, with sharp, mechanical percussion over oddly-arranged blips and beeps. While it’s suitably up-tempo for the action on screen and fits with the whole computer horror theme of the game, you probably won’t still be humming it after you switch the console off.

If I have any complaints about Kabuki Quantum Fighter, they mainly come down to the length of the game. Five levels, even if they are five of the best, can’t help but leave me wanting more. The combination of poor sales on release and Human Entertainment’s eventual bankruptcy in 2000 pretty much guarantee that our favorite Irish-American cyberkabuki won’t be making his promised comeback. Kabuki Quantum Fighter may be doomed to permanent obscurity, but it’s still one hell of a sweet, trippy ride for the lucky few who find their way to it.

With October almost upon us, I somehow don’t think we’ve heard the last from the ghost of weird old Human Entertainment. Stay tuned to find out exactly why you never run with scissors….