Darkwing Duck (NES)

Get dangerous all you want, kids. Just remember to buckle up.

I don’t have many clear memories of the Darkwing Duck tv show. A spin-off from the more popular DuckTales (the two shared a supporting character in Launchpad McQuack), it was part of the Disney Afternoon syndicated programming block for three seasons during 1991 and 1992. I watched a ton of the Disney shows put out in the years leading up to Darkwing and I recall that the 1987 prime time premier of DuckTales in particular was a huge deal. By the time 1991 rolled around, though, I was in that obnoxious early teen phase where I was keen to distance myself from anything as childish and uncool as Disney duck cartoons. In retrospect, it seems likely that I missed out, since a lot of my slightly younger peers have very fond memories of the series.

The cartoon was essentially a slapstick send-up of the masked mystery man crimefighter genre, as exemplified by The Shadow, The Phantom, and, of course, Batman. The title character’s distinctive tando hat/scarf ensemble and his civilian name, Drake Mallard, are both direct callbacks to Kent “The Shadow” Allard. Unlike his inspirations, Drake/Darkwing is less “fabulously wealthy suave genius” and more “feathered Inspector Gadget from the suburbs.” He means well, but his bumbling and egotistical nature often gets the best of him, leaving his sidekicks to take up the slack. If people tend to remember one thing about the show, it would have to be Darkwing’s catchphrase (“I am the terror that flaps in the night!”) and the many wacky variants thereof. “I am the weirdo who sits next to you on the bus!” is my favorite.

This 1992 NES title by Capcom is one of the later entries in their critically-acclaimed series of Disney adaptations for the system. Unfortunately, competition from the still-new Super Nintendo meant that it never managed to draw the same attention and sales as predecessors like DuckTales and Chip ‘n Dale: Rescue Rangers. Darkwing Duck has also been noted for its striking resemblance to the Mega Man games in terms of its overall structure, play control, and level/enemy design. These comparisons aren’t always favorable, as DD features fewer stages and weapons than any proper Mega Man game, as well as a noticeably reduced difficulty. So is it a woefully underappreciated Capcom classic or does this “baby’s first Mega Man” just suck gas? Let’s review the evidence.

The premise is simplicity itself. The sinister F.O.W.L. (Fiendish Organization for World Larceny) has sent a half-dozen of Darkwing Duck’s greatest foes on a massive crime spree across the city of St. Canard. It’s DW’s job to take down all six crooks before heading off to F.O.W.L.’s Floating Fortress for the final battle against their top agent Steelbeak.

There’s a stage select feature implemented, albeit a limited one. Players are presented with an initial set of three stages that can be completed in any order. Overcome these and a second, slightly more difficult set of three becomes available to choose between. After that comes the seventh and last level. Unlike Mega Man, Darkwing doesn’t gain new weapons and abilities in specific stages, so the choice of which to tackle first is really only a minor novelty. A standard linear progression would have worked out just as well.

The levels themselves are nicely varied. Each has its own theme (bridge, forest, sewer, etc) and there’s a good mix of horizontal and vertical layouts. It should be noted that the vertical areas here feature smooth scrolling, an arguable improvement on the flip-screen style of the 8-bit Mega Man entries. Capcom did a good job in calibrating the length of each stage so that they never seem to drag or end prematurely and every one also has at least a few unique regular enemies that reinforce its specific theming.

Controlling Darkwing will be second nature to any Mega Man veteran. The two heroes’ running and jumping feels virtually identical and the tiny yellow puffs emitted by Drake’s gas gun have similar properties to the Blue Bomber’s standard Buster shots. That covers the bare essentials, but DW is no one-trick waterfowl. He can duck, fittingly enough, and he can also hang from the underside of some platforms, hooks, and other bits of stage dressing. This latter skill (also seen in Shadow of the Ninja, Ninja Gaiden III, and Kabuki Quantum Fighter) is required to progress through many of the stages and useful in getting the drop on enemies. One final maneuver is the cape guard, activated by holding up on the control pad. By shielding himself with his cape, Darkwing can deflect many enemy projectiles, even ones like the massive cannonballs in the final stage that you wouldn’t expect to be thwarted by a piece of purple cloth. While this is kind of cute, I didn’t end up using it much. Simply getting out of the way of shots also works just fine and is my first instinct anyway after playing so many other action-platformers.

There are a handful of alternate weapons available, though they don’t amount to much in my opinion. Drake can pick up three types of special gas that all draw on the same limited pool of secondary weapon ammunition. Heavy Gas blasts travel along the ground, Thunder Gas emits a twin shot diagonally above and below Darkwing, and Arrow Gas sticks to walls in order to form temporary platforms useful for reaching otherwise inaccessible shortcuts filled with extra lives and other bonus items. Given their awkward firing angles and lack of a secondary use, I found myself avoiding the Heavy and Thunder Gases and sticking to the Arrow whenever possible. You will have to be choosy, since you can only carry one special gas type at a time. Being able to cycle between the various weapons using the select button (or even a pause menu) would have been a simple way to add depth to the action. It’s definitely a missed opportunity, as the majority of your options are far too situational for their own good under the current setup.

Like the better-known Capcom Disney games on the NES, Darkwing Duck was clearly designed with kids in mind and won’t put up much of a fight for seasoned gamers. It’s fairly short, continues are unlimited, and the bosses all have simple patterns that you should be able to nail down after a minute or two. Darkwing’s four hit health bar is less generous than Mega Man’s, but defeated enemies drop regular refills and these can be farmed as needed. Some love these games for their no-pressure accessibility while others just find them dull. In any case, it’s worth knowing what you’re in for. Personally, I can forgive a lack of challenge if the game is charming enough.

That brings me to Darkwing Duck’s ace in the hole: Its presentation. From the title screen on, it’s obvious that this is a late period release from a powerhouse developer. The graphics represent their source material brilliantly in light of the formidable hardware limitations. In particular, I can’t praise the character animation enough. Darkwing’s wannabe menacing walk cycle alone manages to convey that he’s a silly character who takes himself entirely too seriously. That’s how you know you’re looking at some masterful 8-bit sprite work. The enemies look just as good and a fair amount of thought went into furnishing them all with distinct movement patterns, attacks, and vulnerabilities. Plus, you’ve gotta applaud any game that includes Terminator ducks. Terminator. Ducks. Entertainment should be giving me opportunities to use those words together all the time, dammit.

Yasuaki Fujita’s music is also solid, although it doesn’t pack the same punch as his Mega Man 3 score. I detect a bit of blues and jazz influence throughout, which I suppose makes sense in light of the cartoon’s pulp parody sensibilities. Even if I might have preferred some more frenetic tracks to drive the action on-screen, the expected Capcom quality is still present.

So what’s my final verdict on Darkwing Duck? I think its a pretty good time for the short while it lasts. The controls are tight, the levels and enemies are well-designed, and it excels at translating the madcap humor of the cartoon into playable form. For all that, however, it still disappoints. There was a real potential for greatness here when you consider the talent involved. Instead, this is easily the least original of Capcom’s non-sequel Disney titles and the one that feels the most like the quickie contract work it is. It lacks any sort of creative gameplay hook like Scrooge McDuck’s pogo cane or Chip and Dale’s co-op platforming that would set it apart from the side-scrolling crowd. You’ve seen everything here before in a more fleshed-out form, mostly in Mega Man games. The result of all this is a sort of junk food action title: Tasty, yet insubstantial.

Unless you have a personal nostalgic attachment to it or are a hardcore fan of the show, Capcom’s Darkwing Duck isn’t so much “the terror that flaps in the night” as it is “the cartridge that doesn’t see heavy rotation.”

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Antarctic Adventure (Famicom)

Hey, look, it’s Penta! You all know Penta, right? Konami’s famous penguin mascot? The star of awesome games like Yume Penguin Monogatari, Parodius, and Konami’s Ping Pong? Man, Mario and Sonic have nothing on old Penta here.

Okay, okay, so you most likely have no idea who this little guy is. I don’t blame you. Virtually none of his games were published in North America (the 1984 ColecoVision port of Antarctic Adventure is the only exception I’m aware of) and his star was definitely waning after 1988 or so. Still, I’ll wager he’s quite the nostalgic figure for Japanese gamers of a certain age. Not Pac-Man nostalgic, mind, but maybe Q*bert tier.

The original 1983 version of Antarctic Adventure for Japanese MSX computers was Penta’s gaming debut and this Famicom port from 1985 was one of Konami’s earliest releases on a Nintendo system. It’s also a minor personal milestone for me, as this is the last of the reviews covering the 21 new games I picked up at last October’s Portland Retro Gaming Expo! I suppose I could have gotten through them all much sooner if I hadn’t sprinkled in another 25 from my general backlog. Still, that’s not a bad turnaround, if I may say so myself.

Given the subject matter and the era in which it was released, you might expect Antarctic Adventure to be an early platforming game. Not even close. What we have here is an old-school arcade style racing game with a “behind the car” view, very similar to Pole Position, OutRun, or Rad Racer. The only real differences are that the “car” is a pudgy waddling bird and the standard racetrack is replaced by an endless stretch of polar ice. It seems that little Penta is hell-bent on sprinting his way along the entire length of the Antarctic coast in order to visit a series of ten research stations belonging to different countries. Since the game has no proper story that I’ve been able to track down, I suppose you’re free to imagine any motivation you please for this strange avian odyssey. Maybe Dennis Hopper planted a bomb on Penta and he can’t stop or he’ll explode. Maybe he’s being chased by John Carpenter’s The Thing. Anything goes!

Each of the ten legs of Penta’s marathon play out about the same. You’re given a set distance in kilometers to traverse within a time limit. If you make it before time runs out, it’s on to the next course. If you don’t, the game is over. There are no extra lives or continues. You just keep running for as long as you can in order to rack up as many points as possible. Once you reach the 10th research station, the game starts looping back at stage one with the time limits for each course decreasing on each successive loop. There’s no true ending as such. Penta just keeps on sprinting like a bird possessed until he can’t anymore. Rather grim when you look at it that way.

Of course, there have to be some obstacles set up between Penta and the finish line or it wouldn’t be a proper game at all. Instead of other cars or roadside barriers like in most racers of this vintage, Antarctic Adventure’s courses are littered with ice holes, crevasses, and overly friendly seals. Touching any of these hazards will halt Penta’s forward movement and stun him for a brief time. The solution is to either run around or jump over them, with the caveat that the grinning seals popping out of the ice can’t be jumped. In cases where many obstacles are packed closed together, it’s possible to slip up once and then get “ping ponged” between multiple ones, losing a ton of time in the process. Thankfully, there is one “power-up” of sorts that can help in avoiding these dreaded occurrences: Picking up a flashing flag equips Penta with a tiny helicopter propeller that can be activated by rapidly pressing the B button mid-jump. This lets him fly right over any holes and crevasses in his path for a few seconds before it runs out. You still can’t bypass the dreaded seals this way, though.

Beyond this, the only other things to look out for are the fish and flags of various colors that award bonus points when collected. Antarctic Adventure is an extremely basic and repetitive game, a holdover from the tail end of the arcade Golden Age. This extends to the art and music. Penta is cute and the overall look of the game is clean and colorful, but the scenery is just ice, ice, and more ice. Visual differentiation between stages is limited entirely to the occasional switch from a blue sky to an orange one. The score consists of a single classical piece (Émile Waldteufel’s “The Skater’s Waltz”) that plays over every race and a few brief incidental fanfares; about one minute of music in total.

With its simple gameplay and bare bones presentation, Antarctic Adventure isn’t going to make many “best of the Famicom” lists. As any Atari fan can tell you, however, simple is far from the worst thing a game can be, and this one is a very competent example of a time trial racer circa the early 1980s. If you enjoy similar titles, you’ll almost certainly enjoy Konami’s more lighthearted interpretation. You’ll probably find yourself wanting to move on to something more substantial after thirty minutes or so, but it’ll be a fine thirty minutes. Plus, if you really want more, the 1986 MSX sequel Penguin Adventure greatly expanded on the core gameplay with shops, branching paths, boss fights, and multiple endings. Penguin Adventure was also the first game designed (in part) by the famous Hideo Kojima. Say what you will about penguins, at least they don’t talk your ears off about nanomachines or whatever while you’re just trying to play a video game.

Godspeed, Penta. Here’s hoping Mascot Heaven has an all-you-can-eat sardine bar.

Plok (Super Nintendo)

Thanks, you odd little whatever-you-are.

Everyone and his brother was making video games in the U.K. back during the 1980s. I’m not just speaking metaphorically of the “bedroom coder” boom touched off by affordable domestic microcomputers like the Spectrum and the BBC Micro. I’m talking literally. You had the Stamper brothers (Tim and Chris) founding Rare, the Darlings (David and Richard) over at Codemasters, the Follins (Tim, Geoff, and Mike) composing some of the best chiptune music of the era, and the Bitmap Brothers churning out massive hits like Speedball and The Chaos Engine. Okay, so the Bitmaps weren’t actual brothers. I’m still counting it because this is my review and you’re not the boss of me.

Ahem. Anyway, Ste and John Pickford are yet another set of British brothers with a passion for gaming. Fresh out of secondary school in the early 80s, they took jobs in the industry as an artist and programmer (respectively) and soon added game design to their portfolios. They’re probably best-known on this side of the pond for their work with Rare, particularly Solar Jetman and the two Wizards & Warriors sequels on the NES. Around 1990, the Pickfords were hard at work on an arcade game called Fleapit that was intended to run on Rare’s upcoming Razz hardware. Unfortunately, plans for the Razz board ended up being scrapped and the mostly finished Fleapit followed suit. Not being ones to let a good idea go to waste, Ste and John moved on to Mancunian studio Software Creations and reimagined Fleapit as the 1993 Super Nintendo platformer Plok.

Who is Plok the Exploding Man? The instruction manual informs us that he is, among many, many other things: “The king of the beautiful island called Akrillic, part of the archipelago Poly-Esta…a true hero, with a heart of gold and joints of the highest quality Velcro…a grade-A, first class prime cut.” What is Plok? That’s tougher to say. Whatever he’s supposed to be, he’s got a set of cute cartoon eyes peering out from what looks to be a red executioner’s hood and he’s able to fire off all four of his detachable limbs as deadly missiles. Yes, Plok is a European mascot platformer starring a hero that attacks with his floating projectile limbs two years before Ubisoft’s Rayman. I reckon someone across the Channel has some explaining to do.

Being the (wholly self-proclaimed) king of Akrillic, our boy Plok has quite the healthy ego. You can just imagine the outrage that ensues when he steps out his front door one morning only to discover that the giant flag with his face on it that he flies from his rooftop has been snatched away in the night by parties unknown. All fired-up by this affront, Plok sets off by boat to nearby Cotton Island to retrieve his flag. There’s no world to save, no princess to rescue, no fallen comrades to avenge, just this absurd, pompous weirdo rambling around the countryside seeking to assuage his wounded pride by any means necessary. Did I mention that this game’s humor is very, very British?

The early stages on Cotton Island are no-frills affairs that have you making your way from left to right on the way to a goal, Super Mario style. They function as an elegant tutorial on Plok’s unusual movement and attack capabilities. He has two different jumps, for example, a short hop that allows for shooting in mid-aid if needed and a spinning leap similar to Sonic the Hedgehog’s that offers greater height and distance at the cost of offensive flexibility. The limb shooting mechanic also has its quirks. Successfully striking an enemy will return the limb to Plok’s body instantly, but miss and you’ll have to wait for it to boomerang back on its own. It’s possible to have all four limbs detached at once if you’re too quick on the trigger, leaving poor Plok a sitting duck. Some of the later stages are filled with shifting walls and other obstacles that require you to temporarily relinquish one or more limbs to bypass them. One stage even forces you to play through the majority of it sans legs, which severely compromises Plok’s platforming ability, as you might expect. This adds a bit of a light puzzle element to some portions of the game, as you need to make sure you don’t run out of “keys” (limbs) before you reach the goal.

Beyond these basics, you also have an abundance of power-up items to find. There are seashells that provide extra lives when collected in bunches (think the coins from Mario), gems that grant temporary invincibility, hornet nests that give Plok a supply of enemy-seeking “buddy hornets” that he can release on command, and a magic amulet that turns his spinning jump into a buzz saw move that can damage enemies. The really exciting power-ups, however, are the various special costumes. Each one temporarily transforms Plok into an alternate form with its own unique attack. Some of my favorites include Squire Plok’s Contra-like spread shot blunderbuss, Vigilante Plok’s flamethrower, and Plocky’s superpowered boxing gloves.

After the first boss battle, the victorious Plok returns to Akrillic with flag in tow, only to discover that the entire island has been overrun by a pack of giant fleas. Plok hates fleas. At this point, the gameplay shifts gears dramatically. These much larger, more open levels see Plok going into “search and destroy” mode to eliminate every flea in each area before he can move on to the next. This switch-up made me a little apprehensive at first, as it had the potential to slow the game down to a crawl with needless backtracking to find fleas secreted away in cryptic locations. Thankfully, the designers went out of their way to make Plok’s pest control rampage as hassle-free as possible. All of the fleas are in plain sight along the main stage paths, there’s a counter at the bottom of the screen displaying the number remaining, and you even get helpful on-screen arrows pointing you toward your next target. Nice!

Once you beat back the insect invasion, the game takes another sharp turn as Plok descends into the Fleapit to take the fight to the Flea Queen herself. Each of the final eight stages within the Fleapit has Plok piloting a different vehicle. There’s a unicycle, a monster truck, a helicopter, a tank, a flying saucer, and more. Every vehicle has its own control scheme to master and most are too something. Too fast, too slow, too slippery, you name it. It’s going to take you a lot of practice to make it through this final stretch.

In case you hadn’t picked up on it by now, I took a liking to this game straightaway. It’s packed to the gills with clever ideas and throws you a steady stream of curveballs throughout. The novelty of managing Plok’s wayward limbs to strike a balance between mobility and offense would have been more than sufficient on its own to support a typical title, but the Pickfords really went above and beyond the call of duty here. Their commitment to keeping their audience guessing even extends to the aesthetic. At one point, Plok flashes back to the olden days in the form of a playable dream sequence where the player controls the mustachioed Grandpappy Plok. The game adopts a silent movie style for this portion, complete with sepia tone visuals, “old-timey” music, and flickering title cards at the opening of each stage. Flourishes like this really drive home that you’re being treated to an extraordinary effort and not just another cookie cutter platformer.

In fact, Plok’s art and music are fantastic generally. The setting of Poly-Esta is defined by its bright colors, thick black outlines, and psychedelic landscapes, which all give the impression that they may have served (at least in part) as inspiration for Nintendo’s own Yoshi’s Island a few years later. I also appreciate the care put into the animation, particularly for Plok himself over all of his many permutations.

Then there’s the music. Oh, the music. I scarcely know where to begin. From the instant Plok greets you on the title screen, whips out a harmonica, and launches into a bluesy opening theme, you know you’re in for something phenomenal. Given that the score was created by two of those fabled Follin brothers I mentioned above (Tim and Geoff), I probably shouldn’t have been so surprised. Many of the instruments used here sound so realistic that Nintendo’s own Shigeru Miyamoto reportedly had trouble believing that the songs were being generated by an unmodified Super Nintendo console. Plok certainly doesn’t sound at all like I expected it to. Instead of the thin, bouncy tunes of a typical lighthearted platformer, we get a lot of rich, heavy prog rock-inspired numbers that sound like they could be from the Genesis or Rush catalogs. If 7/8 time signatures, spacey arpeggios, and Neil Peart drum fills are your jam, then Plok is the game for you, friend. This is all on top of the other eclectic influences I already mentioned (blues, silent film orchestration). Hell, the boss theme even breaks out the theremin to evoke a 1950s monster movie and every one of Plok’s special costumes has its own musical theme. There were times playing through Plok where the music would segue into some new riff or movement and I just had to set the controller down and go “What!?” It’s that good. It may sound crazy, but Plok’s soundtrack is one of the very finest for the system and belongs on any top ten list right alongside heavyweights like Final Fantasy VI and Chrono Trigger. Such a surprise from a relatively unknown title.

Ah. Now, it’s time for me to come back down to earth long enough to actually criticize for a bit. As much as I loved my time with Plok, it can be tricky to actually make progress in. This isn’t due to the individual stages being overly difficult in the traditional sense, though most are certainly challenging. Plok can usually withstand a good five hits or so before losing a life and there are no instant death hazards that bypass his health bar, so the levels themselves are generally of the tough, but fair variety. No, the true difficulty comes courtesy of the continue system. The game has what it calls “permanent continue points” after the first, second, and fifth boss battles. In other words, at roughly the 20%, 50%, and 80% marks. Plok’s quest is a fairly long one, so the amount of play time between these checkpoints can be considerable. The stretch between the second and fifth bosses, for example, can take up the better part of an hour. Dying right on the cusp of a new permanent continue point and having to repeat a half dozen or more very tricky and involved stages can be disheartening. You do have a limited ability to earn special continues (or “Plokontinues,” as the game calls them) by collecting four special red tokens to spell out “P-L-O-K.” Doing this will allow you to continue one additional time between the normal checkpoints, but only from the stage where you actually earned the Plokontinue. For example, if you collect your fourth red token in stage seven and then run out of lives in stage ten, you’ll be allowed to continue once…back at stage seven. Even the game’s hidden warp zones come with strings attached. Just finding them isn’t enough and you’re forced to complete some sort of difficult challenge like a timed vehicle race before you’ll actually be allowed to skip ahead. I tried a few of these without success and eventually gave up on the idea and just played through all the stages in order. Most daunting of all, there are no saves or passwords, meaning that Plok must be completed in a single play session. Trust me, once you finally do reach a new permanent continue point after hours of playing and re-playing the same long run of stages, the last thing you’ll want to do is switch off your console and retire for the evening. My secret to beating Plok? I left my system switched on for a week between play sessions! The designers had supposedly intended to include a save battery in the cartridge, but publisher Tradewest balked at the extra manufacturing cost. Alas.

Although these progression woes do mar the experience somewhat, by no means should they deter you from giving Plok a try. It’s an inspired, criminally under-recognized platformer. Leading up to its release, Miyamoto is said to have told the Pickfords that only Mario and Sonic were in its same league. In spite of this high praise from Nintendo’s shining star, Plok sold poorly and would never receive a sequel. Some blame this on the glut of Sonic cash-in mascot platformers that were flooding the marketplace around the time of its debut, something the Pickfords could never have anticipated back when they initially conceived of the project as Fleapit. I suspect the fact that the first generation of kids to grow up with video game consoles were teenagers by 1993 and gravitating toward more “mature” titles like Doom and Mortal Kombat was also a contributing factor. Fortunately, Ste and John have managed to retain the IP rights for Plok and friends. They revived their Exploding Man in 2013 for a series of Web and print comics that’s still running today. I visited their site intending to check it out briefly before starting on this review and wound up binging all 127 pages they’ve put out to date. The Plok comics are thoroughly entertaining and serve as both a satisfying continuation of the game’s loopy story and a running satiric commentary on the state of modern gaming. It sure is nice being able to end one of these “forgotten game character” retrospectives on a high note for once. Good on ya, lads.

If you have any interest in 16-bit platformers, you need Plok in your life. It plays like a dream, surprises and delights from start to finish, and its presentation is singularly unforgettable. Perhaps best of all, it somehow remains affordable. In an era of hyperinflated SNES prices, this is one cartridge that won’t cost you an arm and a leg. Plok himself should be so lucky.

Super Bomberman 5 (Super Famicom)

Boom goes the dynamite!

Some say that if you’ve played one Bomberman game, you’ve played them all. Although I wouldn’t go quite that far, I agree that the series has been nothing if not consistent over the course of its last 35 years and nearly 100 iterations. Sure, there’s been the odd experiment here and there, like 1987’s more exploration-focused Bomber King (aka RoboWarrior) and the much maligned “grim and gritty” reboot Act Zero from 2006, but the overwhelming majority of Bomberman’s outings have stuck close to the cartoony single-screen action of the original.

One thing I was surprised to learn while researching the history of Bomberman is that the very first versions Hudson Soft released for Japanese home computers in 1983 actually starred a proper bomber man (complete with suspenders and pork pie hat) rather than the iconic chibi robot that fans know and love. Human Bomberman got the boot in 1985 when Shinichi Nakamoto was converting the game for release on Nintendo’s Famicom and replaced the main character with a recycled enemy sprite from Hudson’s 1984 Famicom port of Lode Runner: A squat white robot with a single pink antenna sprouting from its head. Whether this was a deliberate creative choice or just a handy shortcut (the Famicom Bomberman was supposedly programmed in one marathon 72 hour work session), it marks the true start of the franchise as we know it and the birth of a mascot character that would remain synonymous with Hudson Soft all the way up until their sad dissolution in 2012.

For those few uninitiated, here’s the drill: Bomberman is plunked down onto a screen densely packed with blocks and enemies. The goal is to use his bombs to eliminate all the enemies and reach the level exit before a timer runs out. Bomberman starts out quite weak. He moves slowly and is limited to laying down one minimally powerful bomb at a time. Fortunately, some of the blocks (designated “soft blocks”) can be destroyed in order to reveal a host of power-ups that will speed Bomberman up, give him more bombs and bigger explosions to work with, and confer a variety of other useful abilities (such as repositioning bombs after they’ve already been planted). Players will need to careful how they deploy their arsenal, however, since Bomberman is just as vulnerable to his own ordinance as the bad guys are and it’s easy to get carried away and become your own worst enemy as his destructive potential mounts. One misplaced bomb or touch from an enemy is all it takes to cost you a life. Simple stuff, really. Later games added more enemy types (including proper bosses), more power-ups, and a variety of stage gimmicks like springs, conveyor belts, and teleporters, but it all still comes down to killing the baddies and reaching the exit before time is up.

Of course, any Bomberman fan (Bomberfan?) will tell you that the single player game is just the beginning. For a vocal contingent, the multiplayer Battle Modes included in most installments are the only game in town. While I personally adore blasting my way through screen after screen of computer-controlled opponents, there’s no denying that Bomberman with friends is one of the great competitive gaming experiences of all time. The desperate struggle to out-fox and out-maneuver your buddies as ever more massive columns of roaring flame fill the screen is virtually guaranteed to eat up hours of your life in what feels like mere minutes. It’s so good that Hudson themselves leaned heavily on the appeal of massive Bomberman brawls to market their multitap accessories for systems like the PC Engine and Super Nintendo.

Which brings me, finally, to 1997’s Super Bomberman 5. This final Bomberman release for Nintendo’s 16-bit system is presented as the grand finale to the Super Bomberman sub-series that began back in 1993. Despite the fact that only the first two were released in North America, five games in four years on a single platform still drives home what a huge deal these titles were in their prime. SB5 shoulders a rather large burden when it sets out to pay extensive tribute to its predecessors while still bringing enough new elements to the table to justify its own existence.

The story here is pretty lightweight. A mysterious villain with a clock for a face named Terrorin has busted a gang of notorious criminals called the Fiendish Bombers out of prison and recruited them to lead an assault on Planet Bomber that only our hero (and an optional second player in co-op mode) can repel. “A group of evil Bombers is up to no good” is Bomberman’s equivalent of “Mario must save the Princess.” As a minimalist justification for some silly fun, it does the trick.

The regular campaign includes a whopping 108 stages divided up into five worlds. The first four world are each based on one of the previous Super Bomberman titles and feature enemies, stage gimmicks, and remixed music specific to that game. The fifth (which is twice the size of any of the prior ones) is home to all new challenges and to Terrorin himself.

Debuting in this installment is the concept of branching paths between stages. Most stages have more than one exit, with a few featuring as many as five. It’s therefore possible to progress from one world to the next and only visit a fraction of the individual stages in-between. You can even find yourself finishing the game with a “bad” ending if you follow one of the easier paths to the final boss. This non-linear layout means that you’ll need to play through the campaign several times if you want to experience every stage and attain a 100% completion rating. Doing this unlocks a superpowered Golden Bomberman character for use in Battle Mode. Thankfully, the cartridge includes a save battery to record your progress, so you’re not required to 100% it in one go.

As for Battle Mode itself, it’s phenominal per usual. Up to five players at once are supported via the Super Multitap, there’s an abundance of arenas to pick from (including some old favorites like the snowy igloo map from Super Bomberman 3), and you have access to more power-ups than ever before. The kangaroo-like steeds called Louies also make a welcome return after sitting out Super Bomberman 4. These guys are Bomberman’s answer to Yoshi and come in six different varieties, each with their own helpful special abilities like leaping over hazards or laying down multiple bombs at once with a single button press. “Bad Bomber” mode is back, too. This allows defeated players to hang out along the edge of the screen and lob the occasional bomb down at the remaining combatants. This is useful for more than just petty revenge, as eliminating another player in this way will allow you to take their place back on the arena floor, effectively granting you a second chance to win the round.

The most significant new addition to SB5’s Battle Mode would have to be the ability to create and save custom characters. Drawing on a limited pool of points, you can purchase upgrades to your speed and bomb power as well as choose from a wide seletion of special powers to start the match with. If you’ve ever wanted to begin a battle with remote controlled bombs, homing bombs, or other awesome gear, now you can! You can also choose your custom Bomber’s sprite and color scheme. I made a speedy green pirate Bomber that can walk through walls. He’s quite the force to be reckoned with early on in the match when most of the other combatants are boxed-in with little room to dodge.

So does Super Bomberman 5 succeed at innovating while still paying ample homage to its predecessors? Is it the best in its class on the Super Nintendo? Yes and probably. As a sampler platter of everything the earlier Super Bomberman releases had to offer, it’s delightful. In terms of original features, the branching paths between stages in single player add a lot of replay value and Battle Mode is greatly enhanced by the new character customization options.

The game’s execution isn’t quite flawless, however. For starters, those same branching paths can also be a right pain if you’re trying for 100% completion. Since there’s no in-game map showing how every stage is connected, you’ll either have to create one yourself as you go or check a guide. If you don’t, you can easily find yourself in situations where you have every stage in a given world completed except for one or two, but you have no idea which path you need to take to actually reach those last few stages. The trial-and-error backtracking necessary to resolve these questions can get obnoxious.

In addition, the way that the boss fight are implemented here felt a step back to me in terms of presentation. Most are against rival Bombers that are also on foot and play out similarly to standard multiplayer battles. As a result, the screen-filling death machines you frequently had to take down in the earlier games are absent here, except in the case of the final battle against Terrorin. These boss characters are still fun to fight. They have their own unique personalities, special powers, and so on. They’re just a lot less impressive visually.

Finally, the game gates off some of its content in what I consider to be a rather sleazy fashion. There are thirteen total combat arenas included in Battle Mode, but three of them are only available if you unlock them first using a cheat code. A cheat code that can only be successfully executed on a Hudson Joy Card controller! That’s right: The standard Super Famicom/Super Nintendo pad just won’t work! Alternatively, you can seek out a special gold cartridge edition of the game that comes with these extra stages unlocked by default, as long as you don’t mind that these are incredibly rare collector’s items that sell for hundreds of dollars on the odd occasion they’re available for sale at all. This was some ultra tacky nonsense on Hudson’s part either way. Boo.

Even with these blemishes, Super Bomberman 5 remains my pick for the best Bomberman experience on the system. Though all five deliver the same timeless blend of addictive gameplay, adorable art, and seriously funky music, this final entry holds the edge over its peers thanks to the sheer volume of the content on offer. It has more levels, more enemies, more power-ups, and really just more of everything that makes Bomberman so great.

The fact that Konami chose to revive the Super Bomberman moniker specifically after a 20-year hiatus when they published the most recent main series entry (2017’s Super Bomberman R for the Nintendo Switch) is a fitting testimony to just how superb and fondly-remembered these games are. Hudson Soft is no more, but that very first bomb they set off back in 1983 still echos across the gaming landscape.

Jerry Boy (Super Famicom)

Yeah, you’d best bow down, punk. That’s a 1CC right there.

When you nail that perfect home run in the bottom of the ninth with the based loaded, the crowd tends to forget all about your previous two strikes. Similarly, when a game company’s flagship series happens to be the second most popular of all time (with over 300,000,000 copies sold to date), it’s all too easy for its less successful efforts to fade into obscurity. That’s why I’d wager that a great many gamers would be hard-pressed to name a single non-Pokémon game by superstar developers Game Freak.

Game Freak got its start in 1983 as a gaming fanzine put out by writer/editor Satoshi Tajiri and a handful of friends, including future Pokemon illustrator Ken Sugimori. By 1987, the staff was convinced that they could design games themselves that would be just as good as the ones they covered in their publication. They successfully made the dramatic leap from game journalists to game creators in 1989 when they partnered with Namco to produce the arcade action/puzzle romp Quinty (later known as Mendel Palace on the NES). Seven additional games for various Nintendo and Sega platforms would be released between Quinty and the debut of Pokémon in 1996.

One of these “lost” Game Freak titles is the 1991 Super Famicom platformer Jerry Boy. Co-developed with System Sacom, this sophomore effort stars a young prince named Jerry who, in a clear nod to Dragon Quest, gets transformed into a grinning blue blob by an evil wizard in the employ of his jealous younger brother. The brother is, of course, named Tom. It turns out that Tom covets both the kingdom that Jerry stands to inherit and his beautiful fiancée Emi, who he promptly whisks away to marry against her will. Since this fantasy world apparently has a grossly bigoted “no slimes on the throne” policy, Jerry must chase his backstabbing brother across the land (all sixteen stages of it) if he wants to reclaim his kingdom, his girl, and his handsome human form.

At first blush, Jerry Boy comes off as a straightforward “hop and bop your way to the goal” exercise of the sort that consoles were neck-deep in at the time. What saves it from complete mediocrity is the combination of the title character’s creative moveset and some delightful art direction.

Being a sticky lump of amorphous goo, Jerry can cling to and crawl across walls and ceilings as well as squeeze through the networks of narrow pipes that criss-cross many of the stages. This helps to keep the platforming and level design consistently interesting. His means of dispatching enemies are also novel. Close range strikes are triggered by pressing up and down on the directional pad, which prompts Jerry to momentarily stretch out his body either above him or to either side, damaging anything adjacent to him. The downside is that the reach on these attacks is very short, so it can be tricky to time them in such a way that Jerry himself doesn’t also take damage. Ranged attacks in the form of red balls that travel in an arcing trajectory are a safer option, though shots are limited to the number of balls that Jerry can collect in a given stage. There are also two other special items you can pick up and carry: A jump booster to enhance mobility and a heavy iron ball that can be fired and re-collected indefinitely at the cost of hindering Jerry’s movement.

As fun as it is to control Jerry generally, there is one rather annoying quirk that takes some getting used to. Despite the fact that there are three key gameplay functions mapped to the buttons (running, jumping, and shooting), the game only uses only two of the six buttons on the controller for some strange reason. Since running and shooting are both mapped to the same button, you can’t break into a run (something you’ll need to do almost constantly) without also firing off a ball or dropping whatever special item you’re carrying, and doing so frequently wastes that item. It’s a bit like when you’re playing Super Mario Bros. as Fire Mario and you find yourself tossing out a fireball every time you hold down the button to run, except Mario’s firepower is unlimited and Jerry’s is not. You can adapt and work around this, true, but it’s ridiculous that you have to when there are four unused buttons sitting right there.

Even with the odd bit of frustration arising from the weird button mapping, Jerry Boy is a notably forgiving game that seem to have been crafted with younger players in mind. Jerry can withstand multiple hits from enemies and pick up healing items and health bar extenders within the stages themselves. 1-Up icons are also fairly common and players have the opportunity to earn even more by collecting a set of five red letters in each stage to spell out “J-E-R-R-Y.” When all else fails, continues are unlimited.

If the platforming is the heart of Jerry Boy, Ken Sugimori’s artwork is its soul. This isn’t to say that the graphics are at all impressive from a technical standpoint. In fact, I often got the impression that the development team didn’t have a particularly strong grasp of what the new hardware was capable of. The water in the ocean stage, for example, is rendered using a mesh-like effect similar to what you’d see in many Genesis games rather than with the Super Nintendo’s native transparencies. What the visuals lack in polish, however, they make up for with that unmistakable Game Freak charm. This is most prominent in the towns that you pass through every couple of stages. These settlements start out relatively prosaic, but Jerry’s journey will eventually have him visiting a desert oasis, the interior of a giant whale, and other surreal locales I won’t spoil for you here. There are no enemies to fight in these areas, just an assortment of friendly NPCs to chat with and the occasional extra life. These little breaks for the action work wonders for the game’s pacing and whimsical tone, even if you can’t read any of the dialog text.

The character designs for Jerry and his foes are all as adorable as you’d expect and several of them will be familiar to Pokémon fans. The first boss resembles a giant Pidgey and early iterations of Moltres and Zapdos show up in several stages to rain fire and lightning down on our squishy hero. Other enemies are less recognizable and a few of them are actually quite bizarre. In particular, I can’t say I’m sorry that the creepy nude men brandishing torches never made it into the Pokédex.

The game was originally published in Japan under Sony’s Epic music label, so it should come as no surprise that the score is solid. It draws on the talents of Bomberman stalwart Yasuhiko Fukuda, a pre-Silent Hill, Akira Yamaoka, and Manabu Saito, a promising rookie composer who tragically passed away in 1992 at the age of 22. None of the tracks here really blew me away or anything, but they hit all the lighthearted fantasy notes they should and sync-up perfectly with the game’s setting.

Jerry Boy did make it to North America in 1992 under the comparatively bland title Smart Ball. This version tweaked the control a bit in order to fix the running and shooting issue mentioned above. Unfortunately, it also stripped away much of the game’s personality by removing the cut scenes and town segments entirely. A clear case of “one step forward and two steps back.” I’d highly recommend you stick to the Japanese release if possible. A planned 1994 sequel that would have featured improved graphics and multiple player characters was ultimately cancelled, likely due to Sony not seeing the point in further supporting the Super Famicom while they were busy gearing up for the release of their original PlayStation. While not every cancelled game represents some great loss to humanity, I do think it’s a real shame in this case. At least the unreleased Jerry Boy 2 ROM did eventually leak onto the Internet and is playable these days if you’re so inclined. As for the original, it isn’t much to look at and it’s often a tad too simple and easy for its own good. Regardless, it brings some fun mechanics to the table along with boatloads of charisma and is well worth a playthrough.

Game Freak used Talent. It just wasn’t super effective.

Metal Storm (NES)

My thumbs hurt. Also, my soul. Oh, Irem.

There are numerous NES games from the console’s twilight years in the early 1990s that were poor sellers in their day, but have since attained an ironic sort of fame within the classic gaming community as “hidden gems.” Some of the most ambitious and lavishly-produced titles for the system debuted around this time only to flounder in the face of stiff competition from the flashy new 16-bit systems. Such a title is 1991’s Metal Storm, the cult classic sci-fi run-and-gun published by Irem and developed by their subsidiary Tamtex. Not even a 12-page cover story in Nintendo Power was enough to put Metal Storm over with the public when the fabled Super Nintendo was just around the corner.

While it’s heartening to see these long-neglected classics finally find the audiences they’ve always deserved, there’s a corresponding downside rooted in that most bastardly of sciences, economics. Simply put, games with small production runs that are known to be of high quality are destined to become prohibitively expensive sooner or later. Though a far cry cost-wise from Taito’s Little Samson (which madmen are currently paying close to $1100 for in loose cartridge form at the time of this writing), Metal Storm is still the single most expensive video game I own. I shelled-out $100 for my copy at a convention and, though I don’t really regret it per se, I also don’t see myself spending that much on any one game again in an era of affordable flash carts.

However you end up playing Metal Storm, you’re in for a unique experience on the system. Side-scrolling NES action games were a dime a dozen, so Irem wisely chose to give this one a twist to set it apart from the pack: Your character can control gravity at will! Far from being just a superficial or situational gimmick as it was in Shatterhand or Mega Man 5’s Gravity Man stage, every aspect of the level layout and enemy placement here is is painstakingly planned around the fact that you can swap between walking along the floor and the ceiling at a moment’s notice. As in Capcom’s Bionic Commando with its grapple arm platforming, it’s this total commitment to an innovative core mechanic that elevates the game above the majority of its peers and makes it well worth playing today.

Metal Storm places you in the cockpit of the M-308 Gunner, a rifle-toting humanoid robot that looks just about as close as it legally can to something out of Gundam or Macross. It’s the year 2501 and Pluto has been fitted with a humongous Death Star-like laser cannon intended to protect the solar system from invasion by hostile aliens. Predictably, the computer system controlling the laser has gone haywire. Neptune has already been vaporized and it’s only a matter of time before Earth gets the axe. With the laser’s self-destruct mechanism jammed, all of humanity is counting on you to fight your way past the Pluto base’s copious defenses and initiate the self-destruct sequence manually. Welcome to old-school gaming, soldier, where every princess needs rescuing and every computer is the HAL 9000.

While the story here may not be anything to write home about, the graphics sure are. You may not be inclined to think much of them at first based just on screenshots. The backgrounds can arguably be somewhat garish at times due to how many of them consist of abstract, vaguely mechanical patterns rendered with just a few bright colors in what I can only call a patchwork quilt style. I was occasionally unsure if I was supposed to be blasting my way across a space station or an oversized sofa from the 1970s. Once you actually see the game in motion, however, you’ll quickly realize that the draw here is the fluid character animation and liberal use of parallax scrolling. This latter technique (in which multiple layers of background graphics appear to scroll by at varying speeds in order to simulate depth) is not a default capability of the NES hardware. Regardless, Metal Storm utilizes a mapper expansion chip inside the cartridge working in tandem with memory bank switching techniques to showcase convincing parallax effects on virtually every stage. It really is eye-catching for anyone accustomed to the look of other games on the console.

Things aren’t quite so striking as that on the audio front, unfortunately. The soundtrack is middling at best, suffering from overly short music loops and a shortage of really standout songs, apart from perhaps the first level theme. Sound effects fare better, with some great explosions and an absolutely perfect “bwoop” when you execute a gravity flip. I couldn’t tell you why that action should bwoop specifically, but trust me, it should.

There are twelve total stages to tackle and a boss fight after every even-numbered one. Clear all that and you’re treated to a standard “boss rush” where you must defeat the previous six guardians again back-to-back before you can finally engage the self-destruct device and roll the credits. The stages themselves are actually all fairly short. This is balanced out by the fact that they leave you very little room for error. Similar to the player ships in most auto-scrolling shooters, your mech doesn’t have a health bar and will explode instantly upon contact with an enemy, projectile, or stage hazard. Additionally, you won’t be revived on the spot if this occurs like you would in other run-and-gun games like Contra. Instead, you’re sent back to the beginning of the stage. If you’ve ever played Irem’s Super Nintendo debut from later in 1991, Super R-Type, you know this rather strict system all too well.

If all this has you concerned that Metal Storm might be too punishing to be enjoyable, you needn’t worry. While it’s true that the stages require some memorization and tight execution, you’re given unlimited continues with which to practice them, as well as passwords after every boss fight. There’s also a very useful selection of power-ups available. The most common and important of these is the armor, which allows you to withstand one additional hit before exploding. Beyond that, there’s an energy shield that blocks bullets and damages any foes that touch it, a gun upgrade that makes your laser rifle shots more powerful and able to penetrate walls, and a “Gravity Fireball” that renders you invincible mid-gravity shift. You can only benefit from one of these last three abilities at any given time, however, so picking up a gun icon while you already have the shield active, for example, will cause your shield to vanish. Thankfully, the armor upgrade isn’t exclusive in this way. I suppose a greater variety of power-ups might have been nice, but I do have to give the designers credit for making each one we do get both functionally unique and powerful.

With these tools to level the playing field, experienced run-and-gun players should be able to clear Metal Storm in a handful of hours…on its normal setting. Do this and you’ll be given a special password and instructed to “Try a game for experts.” Hoo-boy. Lemme tell you, they had a real master of understatement on staff there at Tamtex. I was looking forward to a little more difficulty after the relatively forgiving main game. What I got was the Ninth Circle of NES Hell. The majority of life-saving power-ups have disappeared, the bosses have all-new dirty tricks, and the regular enemy placement is so outright fiendish that it evokes the infamous Kaizo Mario World and other similar troll ROM hacks. Those one-hit deaths and lack of checkpoints that were manageable before are now the very bane of your existence and level memorization graduates from useful to strictly mandatory on a second-to-second basis. If I wasn’t the sort of obstinate bastard that can’t let go of a self-imposed challenge, I’d have certainly quit in disgust around the midway point. Metal Storm on the expert setting is what people who’ve only heard of Ninja Gaiden imagine that game to be. It is doable, barely, but I didn’t enjoy it as I’d hoped to. Maybe you will.

Expert mode aside, I can unreservedly recommend this one to 8-bit action fans. The control is spot-on, the level design is inventive, and no two enemies test your maneuvering and shooting skills in quite the same way. Above all else, the gravity shift mechanic elegantly and unobtrusively informs every move you make. Mastering it over the course of the journey genuinely feels like fun rather than work. This, latter day game designers, is how you do a tutorial.

Oh, what a feeling when we’re blasting on the ceiling!

Magical Doropie (Famicom)

Woo hoo witchy woman.

Magical Doropie (known in North America as The Krion Conquest) is a game that lives in infamy. This 1990 action-platformer from Vic Tokai didn’t exactly set the sales charts on fire on either side of the Pacific and lingers on today almost entirely as a punchline thanks to its shameful status as a blatant copy of the first two Mega Man games.

And it’s true! Even the most generous (or downright contrary) of critics can’t deny that Magical Doropie is a complete and total rip-off of Capcom’s classic series. Your heroic witch character looks and animates just like the Blue Bomber, her enemies consist of the same wacky robots with expressive Disney cartoon eyes, she has a menu of special weapons to choose from (each of which changes her outfit to a different color when equipped), and even her death animation is identical to Mega Man’s. It might be a blessing in disguise that the game flew under the radar in its day, since the level of outright idea theft on display here verges on the legally actionable.

Still, I’ve always wanted to give the game a try. Maybe I’m just perversely attracted to the sheer audacity of it all. Price was a mitigating factor for quite a while, however. I was curious, but not quite $60 curious, you know? Fortunately, I was able to snag a reproduction cartridge at last year’s Portland Retro Gaming Expo for much less. As an added bonus, it’s actually an English language fan translation of the original Japanese release. This matters for a couple reasons. First, the original release of Magical Doropie had a complete in-game story told through a series of Ninja Gaiden style cinematic cut scenes. These were cut from The Krion Conquest, presumably to save money on an official translation. Not even the ending was spared! Also left out was the original’s continue feature and players were instead forced to start the entire game over every time they exhausted their initial stock of lives. Now, I would not only be able to experience this most infamous of NES clone games, I’d get to play the version its designers intended. As a special added bonus, the label on my cartridge showcases a very DeviantArt-esque cheesecake shot of Doropie flashing her bare ass at the viewer. Classy.

So just how is Magical Doropie? Surprisingly decent, given its checkered reputation. The game opens in the far-flung future of 1999. Earth is under attack by the mysterious Akudama Empire and its legions of robots. Conventional weapons are useless against the invaders, leaving only one hope: Magic. Fortunately, a mercenary named Kagemaru has successfully stolen an enchanted rod from the enemy forces. Sealed inside the rod is the witch Doropie (Francesca in the North American version), who alone is capable of combating the Akudama with her magic wand. A strange and slightly silly setup to be sure, though not exceptionally so for the era. Supposedly, the designers had wanted to do a game based on a contemporary anime adaptation of The Wizard of Oz, but couldn’t secure the rights. The only element remaining here that hints at this history is the main character’s name being a variation of Dorothy. As these things go, Magical Doropie’s story is no towering achievement, but it’s still one of the game’s highlights. The main character is cute and the cut scenes are well-drawn. There’s also a bit of development by the end, as you eventually get to find out what the deal is with the Akudama Empire and its leader Empress Elysia. Doropie even gets to rescue the kidnapped Kagemaru at one point in a welcome inversion of the terminally overused “save the girl” plot. Not bad for 1990.

The gameplay…is Mega Man. I could go to great effort to detail exactly what that means, but I don’t think that would be a very productive use of your time or mine. If you’re reading reviews of decades-old 8-bit video games, I feel pretty comfortable assuming certain things about you. That you more or less know how a Mega Man game functions is one of them. That being said, there are some differences worth mentioning.

Foremost among these is the lack of a stage select feature. There are a total of thirteen stages in Magical Doropie. These are presented in a fixed order and are further sub-divided into four main levels with three stages each and a fifth level that consists entirely of a multi-phase final boss fight. Running out of lives and continuing will always set you back to the start of the level, regardless of the specific sub-stage you died on. Wipe out on stage 2-3, for example, and you’ll continue back at the beginning of 2-1.

Doropie is also a bit more agile than Mega Man himself was around this same time. Unlike her robotic counterpart, she can crouch to avoid attacks and fire her wand upward in addition to straight ahead. She can even charge up her primary weapon to deal extra damage by holding down the fire button, an ability that Mega Man wouldn’t gain until his fourth outing the following year.

The third major departure from formula is the weapon system. Mega Man has to earn each of his special powers individually by defeating bosses, but Doropie has all of her magic spells available from the very start. There are five total in additional to the normal shot: Fire, Freeze, Ball, Shield, and Broom. Furthermore, there’s no finite weapon energy enforced here, so you’re free to use any magic you want any time you want. The one exception to this is Fire, which damages all enemies on screen in exchange for a sizable chunk of Doropie’s health and is generally not worth the cost. Out of the remaining four weapons, Freeze and Shield have a few narrow, specialized uses while Ball and Broom are absolutely indispensable. Ball shoots at a 45-degree angle and can ricochet off walls, making it useful against many of the more cunningly-placed enemies. Broom creates a flying platform reminiscent of Mega Man’s Rush Jet that is required to cross the multitude of spike-filled pits that litter the levels. Just remember not to jump when riding on the broom or you’ll plummet to an untimely end as it speeds away without you.

All this said, Magical Doropie still lacks that special touch that would make it as good as any given real Mega Man game. For starters, the levels aren’t as thematically distinct or imaginative, although the underwater stages where Doropie has to fight her way between air pockets before her oxygen runs out are an interesting twist on the formula. The rest of the stages look and play generically. Similarly, the majority of Doropie’s foes are forgettable and prove that there’s more to the art of designing a great Mega Man enemy than just sticking googly eyes on any old hunk of scrap metal. The weapon system is also lacking in depth and overall utility. Most of Doropie’s special weapons are quite pointless and the two that you’ll be relying on most often are merely useful, not cool or fun. Bosses don’t take extra damage from specific weapons like they do in Mega Man, either, so that’s another layer of design complexity gone.

Graphics are comparable to the first Mega Man, even if they are wasted on bland levels and enemies. Sound is another story. The tunes we get in Magical Doropie are average at best. I know because I just went back and listened to them again. The fact that I needed to should give you an idea of how very average they are. I’ll probably have forgotten them again by this time tomorrow. This is obviously not on par with Capcom’s legendary “put down that controller and dance” brand of 8-bit techo-rock. That level of talent just isn’t present here.

So if Magical Doropie is mediocre, why did I call it “surprisingly decent” above? Well, it turns out that aping one of the greatest sagas in all of gaming buys you a long, long way to fall before you end up with something unplayable. Magical Doropie is no Mega Man, but it’s sure as hell no Super Pitfall or Fist of the North Star, either. The gameplay is solid, the plot and characters are enjoyable, and it presents a decent challenge. All-in-all, a playthrough makes for a pleasant evening’s gaming. The Krion Conquest version is another story. Ripping out the cute story bits and the continue feature results in a far less charming game that will take you much, much more than a breezy couple hours to complete. I have no reservations about recommending that you spend a few hours with this one, but devoting dozens of hours to a game that never rises above “not bad?” Forget it. Your time could be much better spent. If you really want to dedicate that much of your life to a tough NES game, try Battletoads or Blaster Master.

Sometimes it really does matter which witch is which.