Man vs. Machine

In the annals of history and everyone’s “which is the greatest Mega Man game?” list, the original game doesn’t get a lot of love. Perhaps rightfully so in most cases; it’s quite a bit more unforgiving than later entries and some of the stage designs literally feel cookie cutter in comparison. But that doesn’t mean it’s not still a good time. And if it didn’t lay down the foundation for the eventual rise to greatness the series had…well, gaming wouldn’t be quite the same, now would it?

I have a small disclaimer: I used the Wii U’s ability to create save states heavily to get through Mega Man. There’s a lot of discussion surrounding the legitimacy of it’s use, and in my case it shrank what would have been some serious frustration. Quite frankly, I doubt I would have made it to the end otherwise. But that’s neither here nor there because I still enjoyed the game. Even if I cheated.

When anyone talks about a Mega Man game, it’s immediate game play hook seems to always be about how the ability to gain weapons from bosses begets a complex game of rock/paper/scissors. Rightfully so, I suppose; it’s an easy thing to latch on to when trying to explain it. But more so than that, I feel like Mega Man’s verbose arsenal is more useful in the more mundane traversal of levels.

In a lot of cases that means using them to access areas that you couldn’t otherwise, like using Gutsman’s ah, block pick-up thingie (still pretty unique after all this time) to open passageways. But even using the weapons for specific situations or certain enemy weaknesses is pretty gratifying. Elecman’s beams shoot up, down and ahead of you, which is helpful in clearing out places so you don’t get knocked back; or that you can use Iceman’s beam to freeze those frigging annoying Big Eyes so they don’t demolish your health bar before taking on a boss.

Maybe it was only me, but back in the day I hoarded my ammo so that I could use my guns on the bosses and the bosses alone. Using it to make the levels easier is a pretty liberating thing.

Which is a saving grace for Mega Man, because whenever I describe it to anyone, the world unforgiving comes up often. It’s a game that single-handedly became synonymous with the the instant death spike traps. And the monsters that hit you, causing you to fall to your untimely death into said spike traps. And those blocks that appear and disappear in a pattern…which often results in yet another death on those Goddamned spike traps!

I still haven’t forgiven Capcom for Yellow Devil yet.

Perhaps it’s a bit more noticeable as the level design in Mega Man is by far the weakest in the series. There are great moments to be had, for sure, but in a lot of cases it looks like someone at Capcom bought a how-to book on design that included a mold. There are many sections that repeat in their design verbatim. Under most circumstances that probably wouldn’t be very noticeable, but when you’re making repeat visits because the game is so hard, it becomes glaringly obvious.

Another interesting and often overlooked aspect of Mega Man is that it had a gun that was specifically used for creating momentary platforms, which is a Godsend for when you begin to tackle Dr. Wily’s lair. Most people took for granted that it doesn’t exist because Mega Man 2 had nothing like it and they made it a bigger deal in later games with the introduction of Rush. It’s innocuously hidden in Elecman’s stage, barely dwelt upon and infinitely useful. Very strange that it’s so forgotten about.

Then again, maybe it’s not; because Mega Man on the whole still feels like a b-side or oddity to the much grander games that people hold up as a shining example of 8-bit platforming done right. However, if Dr. Wily didn’t create those first six, super goofy robot masters, the ol’ Blue Bomber wouldn’t be where he is today.

The Secret World of Super Mario

For as much as I’ve played Super Mario World, I find it funny that I never actually owned a copy of it for the Super NES.

I can vividly remember the first time I laid eyes on screen shots in Electronic Gaming Monthly; it’s the type of life-affirming, lightning-in-a-bottle hype machine every console manufacturer aspires to have as a launch title for their system. Not that me getting a Super NES was ever in question, but seeing Super Mario World drove it directly to the top of my Christmas wish list.

And on that fateful Yuletide, I quickly tore into my new 16-bit dream maker…and a copy of Street Fighter II.

I don’t regret picking up a copy of Capcom’s seminal fighting game in the least, but it did affect how far down the rabbit hole I got with Super Mario World. I rented it a few times and I think borrowed it from my cousin once, neither of which is really enough time to fully appreciate the game on anything more than a superficial level. It was the first time a Mario game felt kind of open to your exploration. It had a beautiful world map that wasn’t that far removed from the one in Super Mario Bros. 3; but whereas that game was kind of a straight shot from beginning to end, Super Mario World had multiple paths that could change your perception of the game depending on the route you take.

Each level node sneakily blinked in different colors to differentiate whether or not there were secret exits in a level, taunting you in to going back just to see where else it might take you. Sometimes it opened paths to switches that would help you out in levels, other times it would split your path with different stages altogether. Most people probably only played through half of the stages on the Butter Bridge their first time around. I found myself guilty of it too; it’s only now that I decided to hunker down and play through it more deliberately. It’s all about the journey and not the destination, as they say.

It’s interesting how rudimentary the hidden paths in the game are. I don’t mean that condescendingly; you have to consider it’s one of the pioneers of the concept. Often times you can easily see the key or the keyhole, but it might take a few runs (and block switches) before you find the solution you’re looking for. It sits nicely between being overly simplistic and damningly complicated. I wish there were a better counter as to how many exits you’ve found, because even though I played every level, I didn’t reach the coveted ninety-six exits in my play through.

As I find the joys of Super Mario World in a clearer fashion thanks to the concept of trying to find all the exits, it’s intriguing how other things that I once held dear kind of shine a little less in retrospect. Coincidentally, they’re both featured heavily on the box art.

It goes without saying that Yoshi was a pretty big deal back in the day. We’ve seen Mario get new power-ups on a regular basis; but for whatever reason, the idea of mounting a dinosaur seemed so much more grandiose than it really was. He has his uses, to be sure. But for the most part…he’s good for saving your bacon as you’re about to fall into a pit. With the exception of fortresses and ghost houses, you can actually take Yoshi to any level, something that hasn’t carried over in later games that he appears in. Sometimes you need in him specific situations like getting a key from an unreachable nook, but for the most part I preferred running Mario solo. He never breaks the game per se, but he also never felt needed either.

The other iconic element of Super Mario World is the cape. The concept of flight wasn’t introduced here (that title goes to the equally iconic raccoon tail), but it feels so much better with the cape. Visually alone it took it to the right place, and proper mastery of the back and forth motion could help you skip entire areas if done correctly. And…it’s totally underused. We can’t even blame the big focus on Yoshi as the cause, because most of the levels aren’t designed to interest players in trying to master the cape. While flying across an entire level unhindered was a Godsend when you were a kid just trying to make their way to Bowser, it kept my feet firmly planted on terra firma because I was more interested in the course design.

The funny thing is, even though the last few paragraphs found a little descent of opinion on major facets of Super Mario World, both the cape and Yoshi are still entertaining and don’t hold the game back from greatness in the least. It’s funny how you can be so overly critical of the things you love, but I suppose it’s easier to pick nits than sing praise sometimes. I’m just glad that nostalgic perception and classic design were able to keep Super Mario World from falling into that trap of it being a great game “for it’s era.”

It is truly timeless, and that’s worth a lot.

For the Love of the Grind

I’m going to admit to being one of those people who love grinding. I understand that it can be pretty monotonous at times, but I’ve often found that feeling offset by the tangibility of growth that comes from an almighty level up. Most of the time you can’t sense the difference and for all you know it’s just a bunch of statistics getting bumped up a number or two, but it always feels like progress.

I liked it before it was cool. Or, you know, before it was blatantly abused in every game known to man because we’re all looking for that same dopamine hit that abstract, personal growth can give us.

Right now I’m pinching pennies to save up for a 3DS XL, so in the interim between now and that wondrous day, I’ve decided to fill my portable game time with Dragon Quest IX: Sentinels of the Starry Sky. And if there’s something synonymous with grinding for experience, it’s a Dragon Quest game. Which, in this instance, isn’t a bad thing in the slightest. I can play for fifteen minutes before bed and get somewhere. I can mindlessly do it while watching a TV show with my wife and inch closer to the next level. In the case of Dragon Quest IX though, it’s more rewarding than your typical Japanese role-playing game.

As I get older, I’ve begun to realize that, while I enjoy the cliched and mostly cheesy plots of a good JRPG, I’m really interested in them for their combat mechanics. I used to be a little ashamed at that fact at first, but now I’ve started to appreciate how much I plumbed the depths of battle systems.

Before I talk about why Dragon Quest IX has been such a boon for me, I should probably describe how it is that I approach JRPG’s so that maybe you can better understand why it clicks so well.

For the most part, JRPG’s are set up with big overworld maps where large expanses are separated out by surreptitiously placed mountain ranges. Within each plot there are usually a few caves and places to explore, and a town that I tend to treat as a hub. After catching up on rumors and terribly placed hints via the villagers, I tend to go towards shops and ogle their wares. Before I head out on any quest, main or otherwise, I go out and pick fights to earn enough cash to optimize my party’s kit. While some people find that a bit arduous, it doesn’t bother me because it’s all going towards a self-imposed goal.

So while I’m trying to build my purse by pounding on monsters that always seem to “suddenly appear”  in the world (I mean that plot-wise, not as in a random encounter) I’m also discovering the ins and outs of combat. Since I’m going in to what will likely be hundreds of similar scenarios, I tend to experiment with the full repertoire of my party. You’d be surprised at how much easier a role-playing game can be when you know the how’s and why’s of certain spells, attacks and buffs. On top of that I’ve got the best armor and all that grinding has leveled my up beyond that of my enemies, which kind of makes most RPG’s kind of a cake-walk for me. So foreboding dungeons suddenly turn in to steamrolling through middling foes until I get to the true challenge of a good boss battle.

Dragon Quest IX manages to tap in to a couple of facets of my methodology that keeps me plugging away with a big grin on my face the whole while. Both stem from the fact that you play as a (mostly) soulless, customizable avatar.

While the combat system is rudimentary in any Dragon Quest game (pick an action, watch it play out, repeat), in IX you’re given the task of choosing what role you’ll play. Most JRPG’s give you more plot driven characters, which is fine, but whereas those types of games kind of teach you how to use the move set you’re given, Dragon Quest IX tasks you with doing it your own way. And if you’re way doesn’t work…you change it up and try it again. All the archetypes are represented from warriors to mages to ranged and everything weird and in-between; meaning you have full control of what your party is capable of. I think just about any combination can work. You just might have to work harder at some than others.

Gaining not only the arbitrary leveling statistics, you also gain skill points which you can spend on various attributes. Not only does it give you that numeric bump you get off on, it also leads towards new moves that further define your personally created entourage. It’s not anything terribly new by any stretch of the imagination, but it gives off the impression that you are the master of your own fate. While it sounds like a bad infomercial when I say it has “endless combinations”, the fact of the matter is that I’ve dove head first with reckless abandon in to mastering the various jobs in the game.

The other thing I’ve clutched to in Dragon Quest IX is the fact that when you upgrade your gear there’s a visual change on your party members as you do so. Chalk it up to today’s technology if you will, but I find that superficial distinction rather rewarding.

For the most part, I’m used to getting new armor, reading a cute little description, admiring the statistical upgrade it gives and then move on. Now you can tell that my party is well equipped because they are dressed atrociously. I’m so well-defended that I look like a 3-year-old who dressed himself, much to the chagrin of his mother. Dragon Quest IX is a solitary experience for me; so why should I care how mismatched my outfits are? What my characters lack in social awareness they make up for in the fact that they can take a hit or two. They look dorky and I couldn’t be more proud of that fact.

Considering I’ve spent more time than I probably should have in the introductory area around Angel Falls, I think Dragon Quest IX makes the perfect game to be playing I wait for the funds for a bigger 3DS to roll in. It rewards me heartily for playing the way that I do. In spades, even. It should last me through the entire summer, and potentially beyond if I can’t get it’s hooks out of me.

I’m a grinder and proud of it.