Don't mind me, I'm just completely obsessed with Nintendo's Mother at the moment

My apologies for failing to publish anything new here over the last week. Between Hurricane Harvey (which dumped a ton of rain on Austin but otherwise spared the city the kind of devastation seen in Houston) and a bit of "back to work blues" (now that we're settled in our new home, my husband and I have decided to end our sabbatical year a few months short and start looking for jobs), I haven't been in the mood to write.

I have been in the mood to play games, though. Or at least I've been in the mood to play Mother--aka, the RPG known to a lot of Western Wii U owners as EarthBound Beginnings.

Unfortunately for the other titles I was enjoying before I started Mother--Dragon Quest for Famicom, Great Greed for GameBoy, the Monster Hunter Stories 3DS demo and Opoona for Wii among them--that's all I've been in the mood to play for the last 10 days or so.

In that time, I've spent nearly 20 hours with Shigesato Itoi's first foray into the world of video games.



I actually put a few hours into Mother (or rather the leaked EarthBound Zero ROM) a few years back, but left it behind for some reason I can't remember and never returned to it.

There's no way something similar happens this time around, I can assure you. Although I enjoyed my initial attempt at the game, I'd hardly say the experience blew me away. That's exactly how I'd describe Mother's current effect on me, though.

Yes, it is antiquated in many of the same ways most Famicom and NES RPGs are--with the first Dragon Quest and Final Fantasy titles being prime examples. Yes, it basically requires you to grind. Yes, it's often frustratingly and even hilariously brutal.

But it also can be surprisingly touching. And weird. And beautiful.

That last comment is sure to raise a few eyebrows, but I refuse to take it back. Which isn't to suggest I considered Mother to be a work of art from the word go. My first impression of it was that it looked like a rough--very rough--draft of its 16-bit sequel. Over time, though, my opinion of its aesthetic softened quite a bit.

The first visual component of Mother that got me to think of the game as something other than messy was its enemy sprites. Almost without exception, they display a decidedly American cartoonishness that is perfectly fitting for a title that's set in, and tends to poke fun at, the United States of the 1980s.



There are other touches that add to Mother's visual appeal, though, if you keep your eyes open for them. The Peanuts-esque character sprites are a noteworthy example, as are the rather scraggy environments. (To be fair, the latter can seem samey, but each one features at least a handful of grin-inducing details that make it easier to stomach the monotony encountered elsewhere.)

That said, I wouldn't recommend playing Mother (or EarthBound Beginnings) for its graphical flourishes. No, the game's refreshingly nontraditional setting and bizarro sci-fi story are the main bullet points that should prompt you to boot it up in whatever fashion makes you the most comfortable.

All of the above-mentioned reasons--as well as the magnificent soundtrack composed by Keiichi Suzuki and Hirokazu Tanaka--are without a doubt responsible for fueling my obsession with this decades-old (it first hit Japanese store shelves all the back in 1989) role-playing game. Here's hoping they continue to fuel it right on through Mother's credit roll.

See also: 'a few thoughts on Opoona (Wii) now that I've finally played it for a couple of hours'

Manual Stimulation: Onyanko Town (Famicom)

My last post focused on Onyanko Town's lovely packaging. This one, as should be obvious (assuming you read the headline above), focuses on that Japanese Famicom game's manual.

Sadly, I can't say I find the Onyanko Town instruction booklet as stunning as its outer box or cartridge label. That's mainly because it's painfully short, but it's also because its small handful of pages tend to be covered in text and little else.

Thankfully, its cover sports a rather nice illustration of the game's main characters. Sure, the art was recycled from Onyanko Town's box front, but that's hardly surprising given we're talking about a 1985 release.



Granted, you could say it's hardly surprising given we're talking about a game, period. I mean, how many games released in recent years come with manuals that feature a unique piece of art?

Things take a bit of a dip once you venture inside the Onyanko Town manual, however. I'm not even sure what information its first page, below, shares with readers, to be honest, but even if it reveals the game's deepest secrets, it would be hard to argue it's anything more than visually boring.

The same is true of the next page, although at least it passes along some important info about the game's controls.



Should you ever play Onyanko Town yourself, here's how things work: your controller's directional pad moves the protagonist (Mirukii), while its A button causes her to jump and its B button prompts her to flip a nearby manhole.

Speaking of Mirukii, she's introduced on the third page of the Onyanko Town instruction booklet, as is her son, Michael (the kitten in the lower-left corner of the scan below), the "nasty dogs" (upper-right) that wander each stage and the fishmonger (lower-left) who chases you if you snatch one of his wares.

Unfortunately, that's all I can share with you about this game's cast of characters, as my understanding of the Japanese language remains limited. I can't imagine the blurbs to the right of their precious, hand-drawn portraits offer up anything interesting, though.



On a far more positive note, I can share with you what's said on the last page of the Onyanko Town manual (see below--and don't forget to click on that scan or any of the others included here if you want a closer look at them). Basically, it educates interested parties as to how many points they'll receive for completing various actions while playing the game

For example, if you cause one "nasty dog" to tumble into an uncovered manhole, you nab 100 points. Two nets you 400 points, and three awards you 800 points. (I'm guessing this is per dog, but don't quote me on that.)



Also, you earn even more points if you pick up some of the random accoutrements--such as the dress, shoes or ring depicted in the scan above--that pop up while scrambling around each stage.

Like I said earlier, the Onyanko Town instruction booklet isn't exactly amazing. It gets the job done, though, and also offers up some nicely realized illustrations along the way, so it's hard to complain about its ho-hum-ness too loudly.

See also: previous 'Manual Stimulation' posts about the Famicom Disk Writer version of Bubble Bobble, Donkey Kong, Mother (aka EarthBound Beginnings), Super Mario Bros. and Yume Penguin Monogatari

Second Chances: Bubble Bobble 2 (Famicom)

Given my love of the original Bubble Bobble, you might assume I've adored this pseudo-sequel since the first time I played it. (Don't let its name fool you; Rainbow Islands is the real follow-up to the aforementioned classic.)

In reality, I've attempted to play--and enjoy--Bubble Bobble 2 a number of times since its release 24 years ago. Sadly, each attempt (made via emulation, I have to add; I haven't yet gotten up the nerve to drop a few hundred dollars on a game I've long struggled to like) ended with me shaking my head in disbelief, wondering how the masters at Taito could've screwed up so badly.

What do I mean by "screwed up"? Consider Bubble Bobble 2's graphics. Anyone who tries to tell you they even approach the kaleidoscopic adorableness of Bub's and Bob's first foray into the "cave of monsters" is someone you shouldn't trust, in my humble opinion.

Heck, I'd go so far as to say I prefer the aesthetics of the Rainbow Islands Famicom port to those of the game discussed here, and that particular home version of the official Bubble Bobble successor isn't exactly known for being a looker (especially when compared to its quarter-munching counterpart).

Another visual aspect of Bubble Bobble 2, aka Bubble Bobble Part 2 outside of Japan, that's kept me from warming up to it as much as I thought I would when I first became aware of it: its sprites. They're all out of whack in terms of size. Specifically, Bub and Bob appear to have gained a few pounds since their initial go-round, while their well-known adversaries seem to have been zapped by some sort of futuristic shrinking ray.

That's not the end of the world, admittedly, and if you're like me you'll get over the questionable art direction in time, but even then it remains one of the ugliest Bubble Bobble games around.

The worst offender when it comes to Bubble Bobble 2's looks, though, is its lazy backdrops. Although a couple of them are nice enough, they stick around for so long they become boring. This is especially true of the yawn-inducing, column-filled environment that opens the game. It barely changes while you progress through the first 10 levels, and when you finally make it to the 11th, the sky color switches from blue to coral and that's it.

Later stages offer backgrounds that are far more interesting, thankfully, but even they tend to overstay their welcome.

The good news amidst this deluge of negativity: all the complaints I've leveled at Bubble Bobble 2 so far are merely cosmetic. (That's not to say I can't think of a few others, such as its lackluster soundtrack and its abundance of flicker.) Even better, they irk you less and less the more you play the game--or at least that's been the case for me. As an example, I currently consider the Bub (or Bob) sprite to be kind of cute, which is worlds away from my initial, horrified response to it.

Also, Bubble Bobble 2 is an enjoyable enough single-screen platformer even though it's far from the most attractive one around. That's largely because of how bizarre it eventually shows itself to be.

A case in point: after nearly putting you to sleep with 19 straight stages populated by a few stray clouds, columns and bushes (as well as a bunch of baddies, of course), the game whisks you away to what looks like a brick-lined dungeon to battle what I can only describe as a xenomorph riding a motorcycle. (See screenshot above for evidence.)

How this fits into Bubble Bobble 2's overall story, I cannot say. I can say, however, that it served as a turning point in my relationship with this odd duck of the Bubble Bobble series.

After encountering that Alien-esque boss--as well as the enemy that looks like a mashup of a Star Wars AT-ST and a Zen-chan as well as the one that seems to be made up of a skeletal head, a chain-link body and bony little legs (again, see screenshot above)--I developed an appreciation for Bobble Bobble 2's unapologetic wackiness.

I'd still rather play the original Bubble Bobble, Rainbow Islands or Parasol Stars, mind you, but I think it's safe to say I'll toss this 1993 release into the mix now and then thanks to my most recent--and mostly positive--experience with it.

See also: previous 'Second Chances' posts about the Famicom ports of Chack'n Pop, Don Doko Don and Rainbow Islands, as well as Bubble Bobble Junior for the GameBoy

Five overlooked Famicom games you need to play as soon as possible

In my two previous "five overlooked games" posts, I focused on Japanese PlayStation and PC Engine titles. (Here's the PlayStation post, and here's the PC Engine post, in case you're interested.)

This one, of course, focuses on Famicom titles.

I know what some of you are thinking. Wait, there are overlooked Famicom titles? The system was released all the way back in 1983. How could any of its games be considered "hidden" gems? My reply: please consider the following.

Banana--This is one of those "don't judge it by its cover" games. And when I say cover, I'm not talking about Banana's box cover, which is the definition of cute. No, I'm talking about the screenshot above. Yes, this Victor Interactive Software-made and -published title (from 1986) is far from a looker, but I love its dynamic soundtrack and its action-puzzler gameplay, which is equal parts grin-inducing and brain-cramping. For more on why I'm such a big fan of Banana, read these previous posts of mine.

Door Door--Admittedly, this isn't an overlooked Famicom game in Japan. In fact, as far as I'm aware, it's actually considered a classic there. Elsewhere in the world, though, it's an unknown quantity at best. That's a shame, because aside from some unfortunate slowdown, Door Door is a real gem, with single-screen gameplay that recalls--without improperly aping--classics like BurgerTime and Wrecking Crew. Bonus: its protagonist and enemies are the most precious things you're going to come across this week, and likely this month--though its box art and instruction manual may have something to say about that.

Moai-kun--Many of the games Konami made and published during the 8-bit era are understandably regarded as classics today. Why isn't this one of them? I don't have a clue, although I wouldn't be surprised if its status as a Japan-only release has a little something to do with it. Still, it's 2016, and that sort of thing no longer really matters. So why do I think Moai-kun deserves a spot next to titles like Castlevania, Contra, Gradius, Goemon and Metal Gear? Because it stars a Moai figure, for starters. Also, its gameplay is like a sideview version of HAL Laboratory's Adventures of Lolo. And then there's the fact that Moai-kun's box art is among the best the Famicom has to offer.

Otocky--This Famicom Disc System game used to have a much lower profile than it does today. What prompted that uptick in interest? The release and embrace of Nintendo's Electroplankton for DS. Both games were conceived and designed by Japanese artist Toshio Iwai, and the popularity of the latter game prompted curiosity about the former. Which is great, as Otocky is a far more enjoyable--not to mention traditional--experience than Electroplankton, in my humble opinion. Of course, what else would you expect from a game that adds a smidgen of music-creation to the side-scrolling shmup genre? (By the way, if you own a console that accepts FDS discs, you owe it to yourself to buy a complete-in-box copy of Otocky. Its outer box, case and manual--all showcased in this old post of mine--are worth the price of admission alone.)

Warpman--If Bomberman and Robotron mated, not only would it be kind of kinky, but the product of their procreation would be this home port of an old Namco arcade game called Warp & Warp. That alone would be enough for me to recommend Warpman, but thankfully there's more to it than its bizarre sources of inspiration. Specifically, by offering up two different play styles, it keeps things feeling fresh despite its overall repetitiveness. Also, there's little denying Warpman's character sprites are almost overwhelmingly adorable. For more of my thoughts on this Famicom cart, check out my review.

Have you played any of these overlooked Famicom games? If so, share your opinions of them in the comments section below.

Also leave a comment if you think of any other often-ignored games that were made for Nintendo's first console.

Aural Gratification #3: 'Woods Land' from Don Doko Don 2 (Famicom)

I'm not entirely sure why, but Taito's Don Doko Don 2 is strangely absent from most online discussions of great Famicom and NES platformers.

Which is a real shame, as this Japan-only release from 1992 is one of the system's better side-scrollers, in my opinion.

One reason I hold it in such high esteem is it's as cute as can be. Another is that it's full of the kind of charm Taito was known for back in the day. (Don't know what I'm talking about here? Check out Bubble Bobble, Rainbow Islands, Parasol Stars, The New Zealand Story and Mizubaku Daibouken.)

Most importantly, though, Don Doko Don 2 is a blast to play. I especially like how it takes the hammer-centric gameplay mechanism of the original Don Doko Don, which basically is a Bubble Bobble clone, and puts it to use in a Super Mario-esque platformer.



Don Doko Don 2 never reaches the dizzying heights of Super Mario Bros. 2 or 3, mind you, but it's still very much worth trying if you tend to enjoy the genre.

And even if you consider it a flop from a gameplay perspective, you should still get a kick out of its soundtrack. "Woods Land," which can be heard in the video above, is my favorite of its many tunes, but plenty of others also will have you tapping your foot or bobbing your head as you traipse through the title's brightly colored stages.

So, what do you think of this Don Doko Don 2 song? Or what do you think of this Famicom game in general?

See also: previous 'Aural Gratification' posts

Second Chances: Racket Attack (NES)

I've played tennis since I was about seven years old. That's when my dad started teaching me the sport at the public courts not too far from our suburban Wisconsin home.

I didn't consider myself a tennis fan, though, until I turned 12 or 13. That's when I remember watching Wimbledon on TV for the first time. Or at least that's the first time I remember laying eyes on the player (Steffi Graf) who single-handedly caused me to tune into many more Wimbledons--not to mention Australian Opens, French Opens, US Opens and other, smaller tournaments--in the years and even decades to come.

I say all of this because it should help explain this next comment: as a teen, I played a whole lot of Jaleco's Racket Attack (Moero!! Pro Tennis in Japan). I couldn't tell you how many hours I devoted to it, of course, but I can tell you it wasn't just a passing fancy.

That may shock those of you who have even the slightest amount of experience with this TOSE-developed NES cartridge, as the game isn't exactly considered a classic.

Still, when I was younger, I was fairly obsessed with it--at least for a time. I'm not sure if I ever "beat" it (hell, I'm not even sure its "beatable"). Regardless, I got to know Racket Attack really well at that time in my life.

Unfortunately, none of that seemed to matter whenever I've returned to the game in the last few years. Each time, I walked away from it in disgust after failing to come to grips with its frustratingly awkward controls.

Why did I give it another chance this past weekend? Honestly, I haven't a clue. I guess I was just curious to see if I still thought it sucked. Or maybe I just wanted to play a tennis video game and couldn't think of a better option. At any rate, I booted it up and took a deep breath. Here's a rundown of what happened next:

* Through the first three games of my match (I played as "Gray," while my opponent was "Juana"), I won a single point.

* In the fourth game, I not only won a few points, I won an entire game--on my opponent's serve, no less. This was accomplished by rushing the net like Martina Navratilova in her prime.

* Sadly, that was the only game I won during that first set against the similarly baseline-phobic Juana. I should've won a few more, but I always found a way to screw up those chances. Oh, well.

* Shockingly, I won the first game of the second set. I also started to feel at one with the "down the T" serve at this point. (I pretty much always faulted on it before.) Not that it did me much good, mind you, as I dropped the very next game.

* Although I gave Jauna a tougher time in our match's second set, she eventually ran out to a 5-3 lead. Somehow, I broke her--saving two match points along the way--and got back to 5-5. I lost the next two games and the match (6-1, 7-5), naturally.

Given the above, you may assume I once again walked away from Racket Attack wondering how I could've enjoyed it so much as a teen. In reality, I walked away from it with a grin on my face and the expectation that I'd play it again soon.

This is despite the controls being horribly slippery and every point--every movement, really--feeling as though the game is stuck in slow motion. Plus, even hitting a routine groundstroke is a challenge at the outset.

And then there's the fact that my hour-long match left me shaking (due to nerves) and with clammy palms and sore forearms (from clutching my controller as though my life depended on it).

On the flip side, my latest run-in with Racket Attack also prompted me to laugh more than I have in some time while playing a game. And there's no denying it looks and sounds rather nice. Player sprites are large, if not exactly well animated. Courts are spacious, colorful, and appropriately detailed. The backing tune is surprisingly catchy, too.

Does that mean I'd recommend it to others? Not really. It's a frustrating game to play and even folks who usually enjoy tennis titles are sure to turn it off in disgust.

For me, though, it's just playable enough for me to return to it now and then--although I have a feeling it'll be some time before I'm able to win a set against, let alone defeat, an opponent.

See also: previous 'Second Chances' posts

CIB Sunday: Pizza Pop! (Famicom)

It's Sunday once again, and you know what that means: it's time to share a photo of a complete-in-box copy of some video game or other.

This week, I’m going with Jaleco’s Pizza Pop! By most accounts, this Famicom title, released all the way back in 1992, is not a great game. Still, I've long been a fan of it due to its colorful graphics and old-school platforming gameplay.



OK, so it's also due to this import's vivacious packaging, which is on full display in the snapshot above.

Want to learn more about Pizza Pop! or see more photos of its box, cartridge or instruction manual? Check out this old post of mine.

See also: 'CIB Sunday: Hyakumanton no Bara Bara (PSP)'

Manual Stimulation (SonSon, Famicom)

As much as I've always enjoyed playing the Famicom port of Capcom's SonSon, I've never felt compelled to actually own it.

Until recently, of course. Even then, I only bought the complete-in-box copy that provided me with the manual seen here because I came across a fairly cheap one during a regular sweep of eBay.



Now that it's finally in my possession, I've got to say I would've gladly paid twice that auction's ending price thanks to this gorgeous instruction booklet.





After all, aside from its first few pages (above), it's chock-full of top-notch illustrations. (Click on the scans found throughout this post if you want to take a much better, and closer, look at them.)





Hell, exactly half of the SonSon manual's how-to information is conveyed via a shockingly adroit comic strip.





Sadly, I don't understand the bulk of the text that's offered up throughout the comic strip in question, but I get the gist of it--and that's more than enough for me.





Topping off all of the above with a big, juicy cherry is the sheet music of the SonSon theme song that brings everything to a close.



What do all of you think of the focus of this installment of "Manual Stimulation"?

Also, to those of you who've played any iteration of SonSon: what did you, or do you, think of it?

See also: previous 'Manual Stimulation' posts

Manual Stimulation (Rainbow Islands, Famicom)

It seems strange to me now that I haven't always been a big fan of (now mostly defunct) Japanese game developer and publisher Taito.

Sure, I've always liked the company's first real hit, the arcade classic known as Space Invaders, well enough, and I fell in love with another of its quarter-munchers, Bubble Bobble, the second I laid eyes on it. Aside from that pair of games, though, I didn't think much of Taito until a couple of years ago.



What caused my opinion on the former jukebox-maker to do a 180? As far as I can remember, the turnaround was prompted by me finally--and kind of randomly--deciding to give its Chack'n Pop Famicom port and its Chuka Taisen PC Engine remake a go.



I enjoyed both of those games so much that I expanded my get-to-know-Taito-a-bit-better endeavor to include a number of others. Among them: Don Doko Don, Elevator Action, Insector X, Jigoku Meguri, KiKi KaiKai and Panic Restaurant.



Admittedly, I'd played some of these titles earlier in my life. Most of them only earned a few minutes of my time, though, and none of them succeeded in blowing me away during that initial experience.



The same can be said of the Famicom conversion of Taito's Bubble Bobble follow-up, Rainbow Islands. This 8-bit "demake" (of sorts) really rubbed me the wrong way the first handful of times I played it.

Thankfully, I eventually pushed that negativity--born out of my love of the original coin-op--to the background and embraced the unique positives this iteration brings to the proverbial table.

Nice Package! (Rainbow Islands, Famicom)

I haven't always been a fan of the Famicom version of Taito's Rainbow Islands.

For the longest time, in fact, I turned up my nose at it because few of its many components--graphics, soundtrack, gameplay--hold a candle to those found in the arcade original.

The one aspect of this 1988 Rainbow Islands port, if you can call it that, I've loved since I first came across it is its Japanese box art. (See this "Which Box Art is Better?" post from 2011 for proof.)



It should be pretty easy to understand why that is once you take in the photo above. Not only is it brilliantly colorful, but everything but the striped backdrop appears to be made out of clay.



Other parts of Rainbow Islands' Famicom packaging it are well worth ogling, too. Hell, even the sides of its cardboard box is quite a looker, if you ask me. (What can I say? I'm a sucker Japanese words spelled out in attractively crafted bubble letters.)



This game's instruction manual is similarly striking. Well, not so much its cover--although I do appreciate how the pink texts pops against all of the white and gray and black beneath it--but definitely its interior.

Manual Stimulation (The Tower of Druaga, Famicom)

Before I say anything else here, I need to point out that you have to click on the scans below if you want to take a closer look at them.

Maybe you've been doing that all along, and this is old news, but I thought I'd mention it now, just in case. Because I can only imagine how big of a bummer it must be for some of you to come to these posts only to then feel disappointed by how small the manual scans initially appear.



(Make sure you also click on other images and photos that appear on this blog, by the way. A good example: the scans of the front and back of City Connection's Famicom box that opened and closed my recent "Great Gaymathon" review of that Jaleco-made game.)

With that out of the way, let's get to the focus of this write-up: the instruction manual produced for the Famicom port of Namco's (or in this case, Namcot's) The Tower of Druaga.



If this is the first you've heard of this 1985 release, it's basically an action RPG set in a maze-filled tower. Or I guess you could call it an old-school tower-crawler (as opposed to a dungeon-crawler) with some randomly generated elements.

Sadly, both of those descriptions make The Tower of Druaga sound a lot more interesting than it really is.



In reality, the game's awfully repetitive -- both from an aesthetics and gameplay standpoint. Every one of the 60 floors of the titular tower look pretty much the same. The enemies that stalk those stages change now and then, which is nice, but I'm not sure I'd say that'll be enough to keep your eyes from glazing over at some point.

Also, the same jangly tune plays throughout this often-laborious adventure. Which would be fine if the tune in question were as much of a bop as, say, Bubble Bobble's theme, but it's not.



Still, I'm glad I own a copy of this iteration of The Tower of Druaga. As is the case with pretty much all of Namco's earliest Famicom games, its box is a sight to behold. (I especially like the back of these old boxes, by the way. There's something special about the way they juxtapose a large, full-cover screenshot with just enough explanatory text to pique your interest.)

Its cart label is similarly snazzy, by the way, and as you've learned via this blog post, its instruction manual has plenty going for it as well.



My favorite part of The Tower of Druaga's manual, it has to be said, is its last couple of pages. So much entertainment can be gleaned from its handful of hastily crafted (or so it seems) illustrations.



The best of the bunch, of course, is the dragon that can be seen in the top-middle square on page seven (two scans above), although most of the others are worth ogling, too.

What do you think of this particular piece of gaming paraphernalia? Do any portions of it speak to you, or at least mildly interest or amuse you? If so, share your thoughts in the comments section below.

See also: 'Manual Stimulation' posts about City Connection, Door Door and Yume Penguin Monogatari

The Great Gaymathon Review #73: City Connection (Famicom)

Game: City Connection

Genre: Platformer

Developer: Axes Art Amuse

Publisher: Jaleco Entertainment

System: Famicom

Release date: 1985

The 1980s were great for folks who enjoyed playing video games with completely off-the-wall settings and premises.

There was a game that starred two brothers who, upon being turned into bubble-blowing dragons, set off to rescue their kidnapped girlfriends from a skeletal whale. Another noteworthy offering was a text adventure featuring nothing but anthropomorphic fruits and vegetables--with the protagonist being a cucumber knight.

Hell, the cartridge that helped make video games a household name around the world--its main character being a mustachioed plumber who spends his free time eating spotted mushrooms and tossing fireballs at meandering chestnut-shaped baddies with Brooke Shields-esque eyebrows--made its debut during this decade.

In that context, a pithy platformer that puts players into the driver's seat of an unstoppable hot rod and tasks them with painting the streets of various tourist destinations (London, New York City and Paris among them) seems positively pedestrian.

That's not to say Jaleco's City Connection, which began life as a quarter-muncher before being ported to the MSX and Famicom, is a bore. In fact, I'd say it's the polar opposite of that.

Admittedly, it isn't the deepest of gaming experiences. All you have to do while playing it is press left or right on your controller's d-pad to change the direction of your car--like I said earlier, it moves on its own--and hit the A button to make your auto jump. (Oh, and you can collect oil cans while racing about and then shoot them at obstacles by tapping your controller's B button.)

OK, so there's a bit more to City Connection than that. While you're busy aiming your car and timing its jumps, you also have to keep an eye on the road before you. This is because sharing the pavement with you are police cars, spikes and cats. Run into any of them and you lose one of the small handful of lives given to you at the game's onset.

If all of that sounds kind of ridiculous, well, it is. It's also surprisingly enjoyable--and even rather addictive. Basically, City Connection is one of those old games that's easy to stick into your Famicom, play for a few minutes, bop your head to the brilliant backing tunes and then return to the rest of your day.

Which I guess may sound disappointing to folks searching for another title to add to their "games are art" discussions. Plenty of titles, old and new, fit that description, though, so my suggestion is to forget about that for the time being and accept City Connection for the simplistic fun it ably provides.

See also: previous 'Great Gaymathon' reviews plus 'Manual Stimulation (City Connection)' and 'Nice Package! (City Connection)'

Shall We Do It? (Dragon Buster II)

On a whim, I decided to play the ancient Famicom game known as Dragon Buster II for the very first time over the weekend.

What prompted me to boot up this Namcot-made title? I'm not entirely sure, although I have a feeling I read Video Game Den's rather glowing review of it at some point in the recent past (I'm always scanning that site for morsels of retro-gaming goodness), and that's what pushed me to give it a go on Sunday.

If this is the first you've heard of Dragon Buster II, at its heart it's a dungeon-crawler. Unlike today's Etrian Odyssey titles or even yesterday's Wizardry releases, however, this one is presented in top-down fashion à la The Legend of Zelda or even StarTropics.

That's not to suggest Dragon Buster II looks or even plays like either of those last two 8-bit classics. Instead, it calls to mind old-school roguelikes--though I'm not sure any of the elements included in Namcot's creation are randomized. (Dungeon layouts certainly don't seem to be, although enemy placement as well as treasure chest and exit door locations may be.)

Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, Dragon Buster II is similar to another of the company's long-ignored IPs: The Tower of Druaga. The former is a lot more engaging than the latter, though, so if you're like me and the very thought of Druaga makes you yawn, don't be afraid to give Dragon Buster II a try at some point down the line.

One of my favorite aspects of this cart-based adventure, by the way, is that its protagonist primarily uses a bow and arrow to send baddies to the great beyond. Even better, the arrows he shoots do more than just plunk off of the dungeon walls that surround him throughout his multi-faceted quest; rather, they ricochet off of them in a manner that is equal parts satisfying and thrilling.

Two other interesting components of this 1986 release: fog blankets (in more of a figurative than literal sense) each dungeon upon entry, and you clear the surrounding area with every step you take. Also, found within the boundaries of these underground chambers are a number of unique-to-the-genre foes like dinosaurs and beings that resemble the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

I've encountered a few niggles so far, too, I have to admit. The most noteworthy one is that there isn't much variety to Dragon Buster II's environments, as far as I can tell. After you've traipsed through the brick-walled dungeon as well as the mossy and icy ones, you've seemingly seen them all. Granted, it's possible I've yet to encounter a couple of locales, but I doubt the ones I've missed are worlds beyond the current offerings in terms of their aesthetics.

Another complaint can be leveled at Dragon Buster II's confounding lack of a soundtrack. For about 95 percent of the game, all you hear are your own footsteps and the sound of your arrows pinging off nearby walls. It's only when you approach one of the titular beasts that any actual music comes into play. I guess the title's developers may have done this on purpose, to add a bit more suspense to its dragon battles, but I can't say I think the trade-off was worth it.

Oh, well, I've enjoyed the time I've spent with this Famicom cart so far--even with its overly quiet and repetitively tiled dungeons.

Have any of you played Dragon Buster II? If so, what do you think about its looks, sounds and gameplay?

See also: previous 'Shall We Do It' posts

Manual Stimulation (City Connection, Famicom)

A week ago, I published a post about City Connection's packaging--in particular, its outer box and cartridge. (Check it out here, if you missed it the first time around.)

Although I usually include a photo or two of a game's instruction manual in my "Nice Package!" write-ups, I didn't do so in my City Connection post because, well, to be honest, I forgot to snap one.

In the end, that's OK, as you can see the entirety of this Jaleco-made title's manual right here, starting with its front and back covers:

Before you scroll any further, I have to warn you: City Connection was a fairly early Famicom release. For some context, it came out in the same year as Namco's Dig Dug port, Enix's debut title, Door Door and Nintendo's Mach Rider.

In other words, don't expect its instruction manual to be all flashy like the ones created for later releases like Yume Penguin Monogatari, Mother, or Hoshi no Kirby (aka Kirby's Adventure).



Actually, that's not completely fair, as the manual that accompanied copies of Taito's Chack'n Pop port featured some surprisingly snazzy illustrations, if you ask me.



Still, that was an exception to the rule of the time. Most Famicom games were sold with instruction manuals that were the definition of "bare bones," and City Connection is pretty par for the course in that regard.



That's to suggest City Connection's isn't worth flipping through once or twice. As you can see in the scans found above and below, it showcases some interesting pieces of pixel art.