Daimakaimura (Ghouls 'n Ghosts)

~ GHOULS 'N GHOSTS ~

Capcom / NEC Avenue

HuCard (SuperGrafx)

1990

I'd long thought that when the time finally came for me to jot down some thoughts on SuperGrafx Ghouls 'N Ghosts, I'd get the standard comparisons with the Genesis version out of the way quickly and focus on what makes GNG such an awesome action-platformer to begin with. I doubt there is anyone at this point who hasn't been exposed to the typical commentary regarding the SGX card's nicer colors, superior audio quality, and higher level of difficulty. No need for me to deliver the message yet again when everyone has heard it all before.

Of course, this was before I'd even played the SGX game.

Well, I've decided to scratch that plan, as I was completely blown away by this incredible effort even though I'd owned and enjoyed the Genny GNG cart for many years (and my like for it has not waned a bit). Faded colors were replaced by brilliancy; melodies once weak were made rich and atmospheric. And the SGX rendition really is tough as hell, constructed through and through for true hard cases.

And now that my astonishment has been noted, I can proceed with my observations regarding the core game itself. GNG received a lot of attention back in the day for its gigantic bosses, particularly the Shielder (or "Statue of Terror"), the armored cyclopean head-wielder who guards the gateway to Area 2. He and The Legendary Axe's Jagu were impressive overgrown representatives of the new army of game-villain behemoths that appeared at the dawn of the 16-bit era; but while those two giants got most of the press, they were hardly without peer, even within their own respective games.

GNG provides us not only with amazing enemies to annihilate but also with remarkable realms to explore. As was the case in Ghouls' predecessor, Ghosts 'N Goblins, the journey commences in a cemetery, one that is now adorned with head-splitting guillotines and patrolled by scythe-wielding reapers. Slay the Statue of Terror and then visit an unfortunate town bursting in gorgeous flames as the earth itself splits and shakes.

Perhaps the most memorable stage of all is the third, which initially finds Arthur aboard a platform ascending through a dusky tower. Enormous legless knights protrude from the sides of the passage; should you fail to annihilate them before your ride reaches their level, they'll climb onto the platform and inch their way towards you. Watching a gigantic armored villain approach our hero in such ghastly fashion can be a horrifying experience indeed, and the dreary, ominous tune accompanying the action only adds to the scene's intensity.

The grimmest, most unsettling scenario comes afterwards, however. Step off that platform and approach the aptly named “Horrible Faced Mountain,” where demonic visages crafted of stone provide you with your sole means of traversing the grounds by sticking out their tongues. Beware of flying horrors and deadly flames, and don’t stay on one “bridge of tongue” for too long, or you'll find yourself gobbled up by a hungry rock beast.

The last level hurls you into a palace that plays host to a ruthless band of demons, dragons, and boss monsters. Most revolting of all are the hellhogs, uncouth villains who won't hesitate to vomit on you should you be caught trifling on platforms below their posts.

Once you conquer the five-board challenge, get set to do it again due to the series' trademark successive-playthroughs requirement for accessing final boss lairs.

It's all quite brilliant. But whenever I talk about GNG, I feel the need to mention what a kick-ass game its SNES followup, Super Ghouls 'N Ghosts, is. The flaming village is awesome, certainly, but not as memorable for me as the enchanting majesty of Super's snowy forest. And SGNG's wild storm scene, during which Arthur crosses an ocean aboard flimsy rafts, inspires feelings of awe and wonderment that are never evoked by the constantly gloomy GNG. With its dark cemeteries, burning buildings, and demon-faced rock crags, GNG brings about few feelings other than intense, immediate horror: You're in hell, and that's that.

I could delve into details regarding Super's more impressive soundtrack or its greater length, but that would only lead up to the fact that its adventure exudes the “epic" feel far more than GNG's brief five-stage journey. Weaponry is taken to another level in SGNG, with daggers and crossbow shots powering up to veritable lasers and homing missiles. The familiar-feeling controls are aided by the implementation of a double-jump, which might have spared gamers some frustrating moments in this episode.

This cloud boss likes to fly around in circles really fast, as if he's trying to perform a "Mode 7" trick so he can star in the super-awesome Super GNG. The poor guy can't quite pull it off.

Not that there's anything shameful about playing shorter, gloomier sister to the beautiful, epic SNES entry. GNG is an excellent game, one that SuperGrafx owners should purchase with no reservations. I just wish we SGX players had been privileged enough to receive a rendition of the Super chapter as well.

Ordyne

~ ORDYNE ~

Namco / NEC

HuCard

1989

Meet Dr. Tomari, a brilliant scientist and an ace pilot in the guise of a four-foot-five fat kid. When he's not busy building "colossal nuclear reactors" (blame the back of the box), Dr. T likes to hop into his Jetsons-esque "space car" (with the top down, of course) and cruise around the world in search of abducted princesses. Rescued royalty has no appreciation for the efforts of our blue-collar hero: newly freed lasses are often caught looking back longingly at their former captors as Dr. T escorts them to safety. That's fine; the good doctor is so slick that he ditches these damsels when all is said and done, opting to spend his evenings with his best male buddy, one "Sunday Chin." The two chums stare at starry skies for hours on end, relishing life's simple pleasures.

All of this nonsense is covered during the "cinemas" of Ordyne, a TurboChip that's more entertaining as a biographical documentary than as a sidescrolling shooter. It tries to be "cute" by emulating the timeless Fantasy Zone, equipping Dr. T's craft with forward-firing cannons and bomb racks and offering additional weapons for sale in "shop ships" that occasionally waft by. Don't expect to find pretty pastels or oddball adversaries, however, as Ordyne tragically travels a more traditional (read: primitive) route than its outstanding forerunner. While Fantasy Zone's mechanics are mimicked to perfection here, its distinctive color and charisma have been forgotten.

The problem is that the amount of effort put into Ordyne's visuals was insufficient considering that the apparent aim was to craft a shooter with personality. It's extremely difficult to think of an enemy as "cute" when you're at a loss to describe exactly what the hell it is. Weak-kneed fiends appear in droves, firing the odd bullet here and there but never performing any funny or memorable antics. Even the bosses come up lame: strange hunks of machinery can't hold a candle to the crazy snowmen and leaf-spitting tree stumps of Fantasy Zone fame.

Making matters worse, these bums inhabit a world that's even blander than they are. While other 16-bit shooters made famous spectacles out of their "fire levels" with incredible canvases of swirling lava and raging infernos, Ordyne is content with big, slow, donut-shaped things for its rendition of a magma storm.

The game is a complete dud superficially, which is unacceptable considering what many of its "cute 'em up" peers hailing from the same era were able to pull off. The sole visual evidence of any "extra effort" being put forth by the designers comes not in the form of unique bosses or resplendent backdrops but in Dr. T's crimson coiffure being disheveled by the wind. If you have any desire at all to witness the effects of a breeze blowing through the hair of a fat man, Ordyne just might be the game for you. It is not the game for me.

The project wasn't a complete throwaway, however, as the mechanics for a decent round of shooting are indeed present. Shops are placed so precisely throughout the various levels that it's possible for supreme players to maintain a never-ending stream of high-level firepower. The upgrades themselves are not only extremely strong but also impressively wacky: one armament system places a Pac-Man-shaped, bullet-gobbling ornament on the front hood of your ship.

These fundamental factors lead me to believe that Ordyne's creators constructed the layout of the adventure carefully and indeed had good intentions--they just couldn't supplement the meticulously plotted action with aesthetic appeal.

Or maybe they were just freakin' insane. "Princess Mode" certainly seems to support this possibility.

Yes, there is a hidden mode that allows you to play as a chick rather than a chubby grunt. This notion appealed to me, so I decided to give the girl a shot. Imagine the horror I felt when I discovered that THE PRINCESS IS A PALETTE-SWAPPED VERSION OF THE FAT GUY.

I have nothing more to say.

Double Dungeons

~ DOUBLE DUNGEONS ~

NCS/Masaya / NEC

HuCard

1990

Yeah, the concept is simple: bumble around a maze, level up a bit, purchase some equipment, find the key to the boss's room, and beat the boss. And yeah, the game is very repetitive, as you do the same thing in each of its twenty-two labyrinths, all of which look the same. In spite of those facts, I actually like this first-person dungeon crawler a lot, for a number of reasons:

- The gameplay is incredibly fast paced. You practically fly down the hallways, traversing huge segments of dungeon in mere moments; and with turbo revved up, you can rapid-hack right through almost every fight.

- The title-screen music rocks. Granted, the track sounds somewhat, uh, warbly in the middle, but the drums just never let up, making the number awesomely sinister.

- The dungeons employ a pseudo-scrolling hallway effect that works extremely well. It's accomplished via a very simple trick, but it looks so much smoother and better than the chop-chop-along movement in a lot of other old first-person games.

- I like most of the monster sketches, though they aren't fine works of art. There are some surprisingly huge/grotesque creatures to deal with...

...and it's always fun to find out what sort of beast resides in the boss room of a given dungeon.

- The text messages that pop up as you explore the dungeons (e.g., "ZOUNDS! IT'S DANGEROUS HERE.") are pretty amusing. And the dungeon prologues/epilogues are even more entertaining, as they relay eloquent tales like...

Good stuff.

- The game is an absolute blast in two-player mode. Having another person around with whom to take on the bosses, solve the mazes, and laugh at the text bits makes DD so much more fun to play (even though I like it quite a bit when going solo) and inevitably leads to memorable late-night sessions. And for whatever reason, I always get a kick out of encountering the other player (the two warriors begin play at separate spots and are never actually obliged to cross paths).

- Most people probably don't, but I dig the US version's box art.

Double Dungeons is a neat game that all Turbo owners should grant a fair shot, ideally in two-player mode. Give it a try and you might end up surprised at how addictive and entertaining it can be.

Hana Taaka Daka

~ HANA TAAKA DAKA?! ~

Taito

HuCard

1991

Hana has a good reputation among those who have played it, but it didn't take long for me to realize that, mechanically, it isn't what I'd consider a superlative shooter. One thing I didn't like about it is that if you want to build up your firepower to a useful level, you've got to accept the fact that your hitbox will become ridiculously large. And depending on how successful you are in powering up, the bosses are either farcical characters who succumb to your attacks in seconds or stalwarts who withstand endless pummeling even after you've solved their patterns. Another thing I wasn't too keen on was the incorporation of charge attacks as an essential part of the player's repertoire, as my preference for auto-firing often fell by the wayside. Yet, even with all my biases stacked against it, Hana would stand for nothing less than me having a good time while playing it.

One of the primary reasons I enjoy it is the intricate (for a shooter) stage design. Each level contains two "puzzle pieces" for you to acquire; one falls right into your lap once you knock off the boss, but you won't find the other unless you do a bit of digging around. You've got to uncover the warp point to a special bonus round that contains the elusive piece, and locating the secret spot won't be all that easy since the levels offer you multiple paths to explore. And once you do gain access to the side-stage, you've got to fire away until the obscured object of your mission is revealed; you won't return to the level proper until you've succeeded.

Another reason Hana won me over is that its graphics are just so darn nice to look at. Light tones are implemented perfectly, calling to mind images of Super Mario World in some places and Castle of Illusion in others.

Pleasant music effectively complements the fine visuals. And while you're taking in the appealing sights and sounds of Hana's colorful world, you'll discover auxiliary weaponry that might seem unwieldy or strangely esoteric in function until you figure out the perfect way to use it, which brings no small sense of satisfaction. In fact, Hana turned out to be a satisfying product on the whole despite my initial misgivings.