The Manhole

~ THE MANHOLE ~

Cyan / Sunsoft / Sun Electronics / Activision

CD-ROM

1991

The Manhole packaging utilizes cover space to pledge that children will be entertained by what the game has to offer, a declaration that may as well be taken as notice to those of us beyond our prepubescent years that thrills are not in store here. Indeed, there's nothing thrilling about the title's point-and-click-and-watch play style (as there's never any risk of anything horrible happening) or its simplistic manner of presentation (as its "action" wasn't even deemed worthy of receiving full-screen treatment). It doesn't hide the fact that it takes its cue from famous works of children's literature (including Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and the Chronicles of Narnia) and perhaps takes its acts of homage too far, ending up a mere exhibition of mimicry in some places. At its best, it's an odd and intriguing one-strange-thing-after-another little adventure, delivering successions of wacky happenings like some sort of kindergartner-targeted Yellow Submarine.

Again, nothing that occurs is particularly exciting; this is a bizarre but utterly hazardless realm, and your hosts are peculiar but hospitable, even the grumpy, little-kid-averse walrus.

Still, after spending a few minutes coming to terms with Manhole's complete amiableness and toddler-level simplicity (traits that make it seem so out of place as a PC Engine release), I found myself compulsively clicking on anything and everything that came into view, suddenly determined to find every brief animated sequence, odd sound effect, and weird trinket to play with that the silly game contains.

Unfortunately, while it initially seems like you have many options as far as where you can go and what you can do (climb a beanstalk, take a boat ride, warp via an apparently magical fire hydrant, etc.), you'll discover in short order that all paths ultimately converge, abruptly leaving you with nothing more to see or do. In the end, it's the brevity with which The Manhole plays out, not its style or simplicity, that really leaves it devoid of value.

Of course, the ubiquitous caveat regarding the game is that it's meant for kids, not for an over-the-hill, mean-spirited bum like me. You know, I really wonder what the hell kind of kid people believe Manhole can be some sort of great success with. Children generally can't sit still through the sort of slow-paced, pointless nonsense that this title delivers; they tend to prefer fast-paced, pointless nonsense. When I was little and in need of a new LCD handheld or 2600 game to conquer, the element I considered a requisite above all others was action--so did my buds when they were hunting for a new game, and so do most other kids. The Manhole actually seems more suitable for an easily amused old fellow with a bit of leisure time to burn than it does for a restless little runt.

Doraemon Nobita no Dorabian Night CD

~ DORAEMON NOBITA NO DORABIAN NIGHT CD ~

Hudson Soft

Super CD-ROM

1992

As I've detailed the particulars of my disappointing experience with the Dorabian Night HuCard in the piece I posted about it, suffice it to say here I feel DN is stocked with great concepts that are ultimately let down by unexciting gameplay. Having identified gameplay as the element Hudson was least likely to have tinkered with in producing this CD revamp, I found the disc unalluring. A new, crudely drawn opening sequence introducing DN's geeky good-guy assemblage failed to generate the slightest bit of enthusiasm in me; a cinematic redo of the HuCard's procession-commencing sketch also wasn't up to the task.

Fast-forwarding a bit (like, all the way through the game), yet another inconsequential cinema is implemented as a cap to the festivities.

How fancy. But most of the "changes" here involve not the storytelling segments but the in-game visuals. Environments were brushed up to appear more refined and, in some instances, more colorful. Some of the alterations Hudson made were so minor that one wonders why they even bothered, and I question the prudence of some of their color swaps. Still, this version looks better--sharper and more polished--than its HuCard forerunner.

Thing is, there really wasn't anything wrong with Dorabian Night's graphics to begin with (aside from some rough-hewn sprites, which were not redrawn for this release). Heck, the HuCard's introductory skit actually was amusing as it was; never would I have yearned for a "cinematic" do-up of it. And while the new ending is nice, the thought of watching it again is not nearly enticing enough to make me want to re-endure the monotonous "adventure." In other words, these modifications and additions mean very little to me. I still find Dorabian Night to be an utter bore.

Now, a new red book soundtrack is something that might've made a difference (to a degree). I've never been a fan of boring Bonk III, but the CD version's lively soundtrack at least gets me a little more interested in the sleepily slow action. Unfortunately, aside from employing vocal numbers for the title screen and credit scroll, lazy Hudson chose to stick with the card's tunes. These are not awful tracks, but they're too breezy and unassertive to add any excitement to a game in dire need of some sort of boost.

Fans of the HuCard version might want to acquire this CD, as they may enjoy spotting the graphical alterations and get a kick out of the new cinemas and "funny" voice work. Me, well, I've been let down yet again, left shaking my head and feeling that Hudson threw away a second chance to do justice to the fine concepts they'd come up with for the original project. Hell, they even rendered the intermediary time-warp scenes less wacky and impressive.

Well done, guys.

Chew Man Fu

~ CHEW MAN FU ~

Hudson Soft

HuCard

1990

Hudson Soft had a plan in mind for this one. When it comes right down to it, Chew Man Fu doesn't amount to much more than a game of Sokoban with kick-the-ball and color-matching elements incorporated and without much thinking involved. Of course, crafty developers have ways of masking shallow, derivative gameplay, and if the embellishments they come up with are effective enough, their efforts can win players over in spite of whatever unmeritorious material lies beneath the surface. And so wily Hudson wastes no time before introducing us to CMF's cute little pig-tailed heroines and the crew of oafish, silly-looking beasts who oppose them. The gregarious gang is placed in levels done up with bright, pretty colors to carry out its simple duties while being serenaded by extremely pleasant musical tracks.

When it comes to CMF's endeavors to endear itself to players in every conceivable outside-of-actual-gameplay way, there's simply no letup. Even intermissions are treated as times for merrymaking, as a friendly old man offers whimsical words of advice and the evil wizard Chew makes chuckle-evoking "threats."

Well, I sure as hell was charmed by it all. "What a nice game!" I thought to myself a few seconds into my ball-rolling chores. "How enjoyable this is!" I cried, even though I was doing nothing but placing orbs atop similarly shaded panels and knocking off a few slow-footed animals.

A few rounds in, it all came crashing down. I realized that the simple tasks I was performing were never going to evolve into missions grander or more intriguing, that this is an "action-puzzler" with very little action and no true puzzle solving. What it does offer is redundancy. Oh, lord, is it repetitive. With your sole aim in each level being to deliver four big balls to their color-sharing homes, potential for variety lies only in the designs of the boards themselves and the antics of the enemy cast. Unfortunately, since everything in CMF is drawn in such oversized fashion, there really isn't room within the edge-of-the-screen borders for any sort of intricacy to be integrated into the level design. Pretenses of strategic elements abound: some balls serve as better means to achieving certain ends than others. But the simple stratagem relied on when any "thought" at all is necessary involves reaching the black ball at once for its usefulness in wall demolishing and space clearing. As for the monsters, while you face different sets of three in each realm, there isn't much variation in the stooges' tactics from one world to the next. From "barbarian baboons" to "abominable snowfreaks," the large ape-like villains typically find ways to take your precious orbs hostage, while frogs, turtles, and other such tiny riffraff merely make roadblock-type nuisances of themselves.

Chew Man Fu wears out its welcome very quickly, but through the wonders of palette swapping, Hudson found a way to advertise the game as featuring a whopping 500+ levels. Considering I had my fill upon reaching Round 5, I see little to celebrate in this purported asset of length.

Zipang

~ ZIPANG ~

Tecmo / Pack-in Video / Arc

HuCard

1990

My noble brother Alexei is the big Solomon's Key fan in the family; I'm just the doofus who always confuses the title with Spelunker for some reason. Foggy-at-best recollections did little to pump me up for Pack-in Video's PC Engine revamp of SK ("That cave game?"). I did have good reason to believe I would enjoy it, however. An upgraded rendition of a game Alexei loves seemed like a safe bet, as my stout sibling is nearly infallible. And the presence of the Pack-in moniker on a cover is typically a harbinger of enjoyment (perhaps only for me, but whatever...). Speaking of covers, what a wacky sight this game's is. It's tough not to go into the Zipang experience with a general feeling of positivity.

The experience itself was an enjoyable and surprisingly addictive one for me. There isn't really a whole lot to it, conceptually: you can make and bust blocks, and in each level you must utilize these cube-centric talents to reach an out-of-the-way key and an even-more-out-of-the-way exit. The variety in enemies, obstacles, and challenges that the game throws your way from stage to stage (and even within each stage) is remarkable, especially considering that lengthy sequences of distinct conundrums are built into small, single-screen boards. Sometimes, you have to construct serpentine stairways to make it to your goal; sometimes, you need to find your way through intricate preset labyrinths. Build blockwork barriers to keep aerial foes at bay; take out the ground beneath a beast-warrior's feet to send him plummeting to his death; and lure a mindless pursuer into a niche and seal him away, Cask of Amontillado style.

Zipang keeps things interesting, and it keeps them challenging as well. Know this: you'll find yourself very frustrated at times, if not with the puzzles themselves, then with the hero's extremely inconvenient lack of dexterity. But also know that you'll feel incredibly proud after overcoming a particularly difficult series of trials. And once it's all over, once all sixty boards have been conquered, you'll likely look back on the trying times and, with a sense of accomplishment in tow, realize you wouldn't change a single thing about how the experience unfolded.

Xevious: Fardraut Densetsu

~ XEVIOUS ~

Namco / Compile

HuCard

1990

Xevious and I didn't happen to cross paths during the game's heyday; in fact, it wasn't until I picked up this PC Engine rendition that I got to experience the "classic shooter" for myself. I really wish I had kept my distance, as this is as bad as vertical blasting gets on the PCE. Five seconds into my first session, I was actually grimacing, such was my displeasure. That the visuals are terribly antiquated wasn't the primary problem; I mean, I expected them to be hideous coming in. Splotchy forests, motionless waters, and silly dirt sketches didn't do nearly as much to repel me as did the "music," which consists of an incredibly brief string of high-pitched notes played over and over again. The sound effects are just as irritating, particularly the obnoxious blare that accompanies bomb drops. You'll make those drops and fire away with a boring two-stream pea shooter in an effort to annihilate small, dull "circle-with-a-dot-inside" adversaries. I've waged war against cooler enemies in Atari 2600 games, so let's establish this right now regarding where Xevious' designers went wrong: technological limitations were not the issue; lack of creativity was. And primitive certainly needn't mean repulsive or annoying.

It would've taken some great action to offset all those shortcomings, but Xevious doesn't toss a lot of bullets at you for quite some time, and only in brief bursts even then. There really isn't any reason to endure the monotony for long, as the game eventually enters a stretch of eternal looping. If you decide to continue on for the sake of achieving a high score... well, chances are you won't do that, as you're unlikely to find anything here that'll hold your interest.

But hey, I've been focusing thus far on the "Arcade" mode, the faithful-down-to-every-last-dull-moment replication of the original. There's also a "Fardraut" mode, a purportedly advanced rendition of the should've-stayed-retired oldie. With Fardraut came hope; after all, other over-the-hillers like Galaga and Space Invaders emerged from the upgrade operating room in acceptable-for-16-bit forms. And this Fardraut not only has a set number of stages rather than looping interminably but also tells a story as you play through it--a story conveyed via text and, well, some lame cinematic stills.

I couldn't help but smirk upon first witnessing those plot-detailing wastes. The smirk was wiped right off my face by the stages themselves, which pissed me off outright...

...as what they serve up is pretty much the same crap that's delivered by the horrible original version of the game. The music resembles normal game music a little more, but it's still repetitive racket. You can grab icons that do not-so-thrilling things like granting you additional bullet streams and vaporizing enemy-fired projectiles. And there are what I suppose we can consider bosses and mini-bosses that appear at certain points during the dragged-out four-board journey.

So, what's there to say for Xevious? Fans anxious to paint it as a pioneer quickly point to its "innovative" dual-weapon scheme: you use cannons to take out aerial threats and bombs to eliminate terrain-based foes. Well, that's wonderful. Bravo, Xevious. Thanks to your groundbreaking efforts, other games have been able to employ such systems in contexts that actually don't repel players at once. I think I'll go play Cyber Core now.

Lady Sword

~ LADY SWORD ~

Games Express

HuCard

1992

Tits are Lady Sword's hook. Tits are your incentive to plod haplessly through dungeons that are overly large yet strangely devoid of interesting puzzles and obstacles, to endure too-frequent random battles and unspectacular musical tracks, and to fumble around with a cumbersome setup that requires players to press the Run button in order to access essential maze maps (a pointless requirement considering all the main-screen space that's wasted on nothingness, and an annoying one when step-by-step map consulting becomes necessary in dark or trap-littered areas). Were Lady Sword tits-less and bold enough to stand solely on its merits as a first-person dungeon crawler, there's no doubt it would be deemed a title that stumbles in more ways than it excels.

All that stumbling doesn't mean that Games Express got nothing right in their endeavor, however. In fact, whoever was responsible for Lady Sword's monster designs did a hell of a job. The variety in the cast is laudable; I met what seemed to be over a dozen different breeds of beast just during my inaugural reckless dash to first-floor slaughter. The designs are a bit too cartoony for my liking, but I do get a kick out of how certain enormous bosses and mini-bosses are sketched as stooped to account for being crammed into lairs too restrictive for their hulking frames.

Even beings who don't immediately assail you have their own, er, "unique charms."

Confrontations can be handled in quick, painless fashion. Also convenient are the options to save and rest whenever you so desire (though dream invaders will occasionally interrupt your convalescence) and set warp points so that important locations can be revisited in a flash. Actually, it's all a little too simple; expect nothing in the way of commerce, spell books, strategic battling, or puzzle solving. Items you need are almost always laid out for you along the correct route to a floor's exit, so there is seldom any reason to poke around in side-corridors and fill out your map, seldom any worthwhile extra exploration to partake in. You'll have to be content with lots of monsters, fast fights, and tits.

Really, though, Lady Sword makes for decent dungeon romping, and it could've been a good game had it offered some confounding conundrums to solve and tucked-away items to locate. As it is, it's too damn boring for stretches, as it doesn't give players much to do aside from wandering around, fighting, and trying to make heads or tails of the gargantuan floor layouts. It's worth playing... if you've already experienced other, much-better PCE dungeon crawlers (like Dragon Knight II and Madou Monogatari) and you're scouring the market for more.