Five reasons I hate myself for waiting 29 years to finish Capcom's Sweet Home

Like Super Mario Land 2, which I discussed in my last post, Capcom's Sweet Home is an old game I've been meaning to play for many decades now. Nearly three decades, in fact.

Unlike that 1992 GameBoy title, however, I'd at least booted up this scary Famicom RPG from 1989 on a few occasions over the years.

I'd never gotten more than an hour or so into it, though--or at least I hadn't until I started my way through it about a week ago.

Well, that's all in the past. This time around, I played Sweet Home for just over 12 hours. And not only that, but I finished it.

So why do I hate myself for waiting 29 years to thoroughly explore this game's hair-raising halls and grounds? Here are the five reasons that first popped into my head:

Sweet Home absolutely nails the feeling of being locked in a haunted mansion--Seems impossible, doesn't it? After all, not only is the dwelling in question crafted using 8-bit sprites, but it's depicted using a top-down perspective, too. Despite that, Sweet Home is as nail-bitingly claustrophobic as any survival-horror game that takes place in such an eerie (and similarly cramped) locale. You really feel like you're stalking the spooky hallways of an evil manor while playing Sweet Home, and that's a real accomplishment as far as I'm concerned.

Its soundtrack only adds to the tension--Sweet Home's music isn't always easy on the ears. Hell, sometimes it's downright annoying. It's pretty much always fitting, though. As in, even when the game's backing tunes are discordantly irritating, they complement what's happening on your TV screen. Don't take this to mean there are no standouts on Sweet Home's soundtrack. In fact, quite a few of its songs could be heralded as stellar. I'm especially fond of the "eastern garden" tune, with its lightning-like percussion flourishes, and the sweetly melancholy "fresco theme."

I love how its story is revealed in bits and pieces--In most RPGs, you learn about its story through banter between party members or conversations with non-player characters. Here, you're mostly made aware of it via notes and even paintings you discover while exploring the titular "home." That gives the game an air of mystery I'm not sure it would have if it'd stuck more closely to the traditions of the genre. It also enhances the sense of loneliness and unease that permeates this Japan-only release.

The turn-based battles in this game are surprisingly unique--Yes, you read that correctly: Sweet Home features turn-based battles. And they're not unlike those you encounter in Dragon Quest or Mother or numerous other 8-bit RPGs with first-person fights. So what's unique about the ones on offer here? A good example is the "pray" option, which increases your power if you time things right. Another example is the "call" option, which lets you bring straggling party members into an on-going battle. (Although five characters are at your disposal while playing Sweet Home, you're forced to split them into groups of two or three. When you select this command, the game cuts away from the fight at hand so you can move one or more other party members to its location.)

It's nearly the perfect length for an RPG--As I mentioned earlier, my just-completed playthrough of Sweet Home took just over 12 hours. That's a breath of fresh air for someone (such as myself) who rarely has the time, energy, or attention span to deal with 100-plus-hour behemoths like Octopath Traveler. Which isn't to suggest Sweet Home's pacing is perfect. I actually thought it overstayed its welcome by an hour or two. Still, I'll take that over the aforementioned alternative any day.

There's only one other aspect of Sweet Home that turned me off, by the way. What is it? The way it severely limits how many items you and your intrepid companions can hold. I understand why the game's developers decided against giving players unlimited space for these objects (which include candles, fire extinguishers, and pieces of rope), but I wish they'd been a bit more lenient. Thankfully, you can drop seemingly pointless tools and wares on the ground and return for them later if the need arises.

That pair of slight missteps notwithstanding, I found my latest (and most successful) foray through Sweet Home's halls and grounds both fascinating and exhilarating. So much so, in fact, that I can't wait to enter its creepy confines again this time next year.

Second Chances: Tennis (NES)

A couple of years ago, I published a "Second Chances" post about another NES tennis game, Jaleco's Racket Attack. (Read it here.)

In that write-up, I regaled the four or five people who actually read it with the trials and tribulations I had to endure during my most recent experience with that 1988 release.

Basically, Racket Attack is a hot mess. It's slow, slippery, and frustratingly difficult. Well, guess what? Some of those same words could be used to describe Nintendo's Tennis from 1985.

OK, so Tennis isn't exactly slow. Or at least the player sprites don't move slowly. No one is going to accuse the ball of racing through the air, though.

Tennis' speed is the last thing you'll need to worry about should you ever play it, however. No, far more worrisome and irksome are the following:

* When it comes to player-controlled characters, you've got just one option--a white guy with dark hair.

* As for opponents, there are just five in the entire game. They're also caucasian men.

* Your repertoire of moves consists of two serves (a fast one and a slow one), a "flat" forehand, a similarly struck backhand, a lob, and a volley.

* Every match you play in Tennis takes place on the same "hard" (concrete) court. Look elsewhere if you care about carpet, clay, or grass surfaces.

* Speaking of which, the game lacks a tournament mode, a "world tour" mode, or even a rankings ladder. Your only choice is to play one-on-one matches against the five opponents mentioned earlier. (Each one represents a different difficulty level.)

This tennis title would be annoying enough if that were the extent of its "cons." Unfortunately, it isn't.  In fact, the game's final noteworthy negative is the one that impacts gameplay the most.

What is it? It's that positioning your character sprite in Tennis is an overly finicky exercise. If you're not in the right spot, you'll totally miss the ball. Or you'll hit it but send it many feet wide of the sidelines.

Given all of the above, why am I even writing about about this ancient cart? Or what prompted me to give it a "second chance" it seemingly didn't deserve?

It all started when I subscribed to the just-launched Nintendo Switch Online service and downloaded the complementary NES app.

After playing a few rounds of Balloon Fight's "Balloon Trip" mode (as you do), not to mention a couple of go-throughs of Donkey Kong, I clicked on Tennis without giving it much thought.

It looked and sounded and felt just as antiquated as I remembered, of course, but for some reason I didn't exit out of it after a handful of games.

In fact, I kept on playing until the end of the match, which I lost by the rather humiliating score of 6-0, 6-3. (Although in my defense, I came back from 5-1 down in the second set and even saved a bunch of match points along the way.)

Time for me to sashay away from the game once and for all, right? Wrong. I'm actually kind of pumped to play it again.

I can't guarantee I'll give it the time of day after I defeat even one of its handful of opponents, mind you, but until that happens, I'll probably return to it now and then to see if I can make any headway against the competition.

Have any of you played Tennis? If so, what do you think about it?

Manual Stimulation: Pizza Pop! (Famicom)

As a youngster, I regularly turned up my nose at Jaleco's NES offerings.

For me, they were way too rough around the edges. I preferred comparatively "cleaner" games like the ones made by Nintendo, Konami, and Capcom.



That's not to say there weren't exceptions. I bought and played the hell out of the company's Racket Attack, for example. (Don't take that to be an endorsement; it's not. The game's terrible, even if I have a soft spot for it.)

And I remember renting and enjoying its home port of City Connection on a few occasions, too.



Despite my anti-Jaleco bias, I'm sure I would've given Pizza Pop! more than a second look back in the day had it not been a Japan-only release.



Sadly, that wasn't the case, and so I had to wait until a few years ago to finally experience this wacky platformer (via emulation, of course).



Was it worth the wait? In some ways yes, and in some ways no. On the positive side, Pizza Pop! looks and sounds great. I particularly love its cartoonish aesthetic, though its boppy, poppy backing tunes are a ton of fun as well.

On the negative side, though, there's the fact that this game seems to revel in being annoyingly cheap (from a difficulty perspective).



Something that was without a doubt worth the wait, or at least worth what I spent on it, is this game's instruction manual. Why? For starters, it's full of color. This is especially true of its story spread (pages two and three, above), but it's also true of the ones that follow.



Sadly, that's one of the only places you'll find any unique illustrations in the Pizza Pop! booklet. You will encounter a number of screenshots throughout, however. They don't really make up for the lack of drawings, but in this kind of situation you've got to take what you get.



This manual's biggest missed opportunity, as far as I'm concerned, is that its pair of "character" pages (12 and 13, below) feature in-game sprites rather than line-art depictions of the game's enemies.

Oh, well, at least the baddies that fill the Pizza Pop! stages are a good-looking bunch.



What do you think of this latest entry in my "Manual Stimulation" series? Also, if you've played Pizza Pop!, what did you think of it? Share your thoughts in the comments section of this post.

See also: some photos of Pizza Pop's packaging

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'

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

My 10 Most Influential Games: Kid Icarus (NES)

Although a number of its initial releases lured me and my older brother to the NES in the year following its North American release, none had a more powerful pull on us than the pair of Nintendo-made "Adventure Series" games known in the West as Metroid and Kid Icarus.

I was especially drawn to the latter title, which was made by Gunpei Yokoi, Satoru Okada and Yoshio Sakamoto, among others, and which first hit store shelves here in July of 1987. (Just a month before Metroid and The Legend of Zelda, in fact.)

There are all sorts of reasons for that, of course. A rather stupidly superficial one is that, right off the bat, I was a fan of Kid Icarus' magenta logo. (Hey, I've never been shy about my love of the color pink.)

Also catching my eye early on: the cover art's depiction of Pit. I was keenly interested in Greek mythology back when Kid Icarus was released, so a game that allowed me to play as an angel who has to traverse a world full of crumbling stone pillars, fantastic creatures and even goddesses--Medusa among them--quickly commanded my attention. (Speaking of the creatures that populate this game, you can see illustrations of all of them in the Hikari Shinwa: Parutena no Kagami GameBoy Advance instruction manual.)

And then there were the write-ups in Nintendo Power and elsewhere that showcased Kid Icarus' colorful locales. Purple bricks and stone, red-checkered floors, pink and green clouds--my younger self thought the game looked like a dream.

I know most folks today don't think Kid Icarus plays like a dream, but I thought it did back in the day. (Hell, I still kind of think it now.) After all, Pit controls pretty darn well, if you ask me. Specifically, he's easy to maneuver--except for when you find yourself on one of the icy ledges that pop up in a number of the game's levels--and he reacts quickly to commands. (I can't imagine anyone describing Kid Icarus as floaty or sluggish.)

Is that why I consider it to be influential? Not really. One aspect of Kid Icarus that did help shape my taste in video games, though, is its difficulty. Admittedly, it's sometimes (some may say often) "cheaply" difficult, but in general I think it just asks a lot of those who decide to play it. In some cases, that means perfectly timing jumps and arrow shots; in others, it means memorizing stage layouts (refer to this site if you need help) and enemy placements.

Regardless, Kid Icarus--along with its silver-box, "Adventure Series" sibling, Metroid--made me realize that while I like my games to be at least somewhat cute (or even simply colorful), I also like for them to be at least somewhat challenging.

Kid Icarus also prompted me to realize and embrace that I prefer action-platformers that dare to be a bit different to those that toe the line. Straightforward efforts that ape Super Mario Bros. are all well and good, but this game took that classic's basic components and built upon them tenfold. Rather than having stages scroll almost exclusively from left to right, Kid Icarus offers up ones that scroll up, down and all over the place. It even features maze-like dungeons that sprawl in all directions and need to be conquered at the end of each four-level world before you can move on to the next one.

Another of Kid Icarus' unique quirks that helped set the tone for my love of platform games that veer from the beaten path: the bow and quiver of unlimited arrows Pit uses to dispatch foes. For whatever reason, that's always struck me as far more interesting and thrilling than, say, Mega Man's "Mega Buster" or Simon Belmont's whip.

Unfortunately, despite all of the above, and despite the fact that Kid Icarus was chiefly responsible for shaping my taste in video games (oddball platformers, in particular), I've barely experienced it and its brilliant Hirokazu "Hip" Tanaka soundtrack in the last couple of decades.

Truth be told, that's mostly because I'm now slightly terrified of it. The last time I attempted to work my way through its technicolor worlds, I struggled to complete its third stage.

Still, I've never been one to shrink away from a challenge, so I'll do my best to boot up some version of the game in the coming days and weeks. Here's hoping this playthrough will be more successful than the quickly aborted ones of the not-so-recent past.

See also: previous 'My 10 Most Influential Games' posts about The 7th Guest, Balloon Kid, Bubble Bobble and Final Fantasy V

Nice Package! (Final Fantasy, Famicom)

Final Fantasy may not have been my first console RPG--that would be the original Dragon Warrior, er, Dragon Quest--but it certainly was the first console RPG to blow me away.



Don't get me wrong, I adored (and continue to adore) Dragon Warrior. It's chiefly responsible for developing my current appreciation of both turn-based battles and grinding.

While Enix's game started me down the path of becoming an RPG fan, though, Square's counterpoint took me the rest of the way.



Why? I preferred Final Fantasy's four-member parties, for starters. I also liked that it let you choose the "occupations" of those characters. The quartet being visible during fights was another plus for me.

This may sound strange given how people feel about such things today, but back then I was pretty smitten with Final Fantasy's NES box art, too.

I now know, of course, that the game's North American cover imagery, despite its coral-colored logo, has nothing on its Japanese counterpart.

Strangely, although I've been aware of this fact for ages now, I only recently used it as an excuse to buy a copy of the latter.

That's hard to believe while perusing the photos showcased here. Yoshitaka Amano's illustration is beyond gorgeous, of course, but that's not the extent of this release's positive attributes.

Also impressive (to my eyes, at least): its icy Japanese logo. I'm pretty fond of the English logo that fills most of this box's side flaps, too, I've got to say, though I'd never choose it over the original.



As for the Final Fantasy Famicom instruction manual, it's sweet as well. Not as sweet as it could be, I have to admit, but it contains enough pages like the one above to be worth the price of ownership.

One last comment and then I'll shut up: I like how the back of this title's box displays a couple of sample screenshots. It reminds me of Epic's Flying Hero, which is one of my favorite examples of Famicom game packaging.



And, really, anything that makes me think of that under-appreciated gem deserves all the praise that can be heaped upon it.

See also: previous 'Nice Package!' posts about the City Connection and Rainbow Islands ports

Get your piping hot #HudsonMonth game recommendations here!

In case you weren't already aware, December is "Hudson Month," according to my friend Anne Lee (of the Chic Pixel blog).

What does that mean? Basically, it means you're supposed to play one or more games made by the now-defunct developer and publisher Hudson Soft sometime this month and then blog or tweet about the experience (using #HudsonMonth in the latter scenario)--if you're willing and able, of course.

If Hudson Soft doesn't ring a bell, maybe the names of some of the company's most famous releases will: Adventure Island, Bomberman and Bonk's Adventure.

Although there's nothing wrong with playing through one of those titles or their sequels for this game-along, there are many other--and oftentimes better--options available to you, such as the following:

DoReMi Fantasy: Milon no DokiDoki Daibouken (Super Famicom)--There weren't many side-scolling platformers made for the Super Famicom or SNES that can compete with Nintendo's own Super Mario World or Yoshi's Island. DoReMi Fantasy is one of the few. Greatly helping matters is this cart's gameplay, which is reminiscent of Mizubaku Daibouken's. Physical copies (loose or complete) tend to be absurdly pricey these days, but that's not a problem if you've got a Wii or Wii U, as DoReMi Fantasy can be bought from both of their online shops for just a few bucks.



Hatena Satena (GameBoy Advance)--If you like Picross or even that old standby, Minesweeper, you'll love this 2001 Japan-only GameBoy Advance title. That's because Hatena Satena combines elements of both of those popular puzzlers, and the resulting effort more than stands on its own. Even better, Hatena Satena has a funky aesthetic that puts that of its predecessors to shame. Relevant aside: Compile's Guru Logi Champ will provide you with even more Picross-y thrills should Hatena Satena not fully satisfy your craving.



Kororinpa (Wii)--This is one of those early Wii games that made full use of the system's motion-sensing controller. In fact, Kororinpa is played by twisting and turning the Wii Remote to do the same to the title's labyrinthine levels--with the goal being to roll a ball (or something resembling a ball, at least) from each stage's entrance to its exit. That's harder than it sounds, of course. Thankfully, the game's colorful backdrops and chipper background tunes help take the edge off some of its tension. Bonus: cheap copies of both the first Kororinpa and its sequel can be bought via eBay these days.

Monster Lair (TurboGrafx-16)--If you're a PC Engine aficionado, you likely know this game by its original name, Wonder Boy III: Monster Lair. Whatever you call it, though, it's a great little game that's one part platformer and one part shoot 'em up. There's more to Monster Lair than its intriguing gameplay, though. The game's also a real looker thanks to its liberal use of color and its big, bold sprites. Its soundtrack is pure bliss, too. Relevant aside: I saved up and bought a pricey TurboGrafx-CD add-on as a teen solely because of this game.

Nuts & Milk (Famicom)--This single-screen platformer (don't be fooled, it's nothing like Bubble Bubble) was the first third-party game to be released for the Famicom. Despite that, and despite the fact that Nuts & Milk is just as fun as many classics from the same era, maker Namco never brought it to North America. Thankfully, it's easy enough to play in 2016 and beyond no matter where in the world you live. Actual carts are both abundant and cheap (on eBay and the like), or of course you can go the old "boot up the ROM" route. (If you own a Japanese 3DS, Wii or Wii U, you can buy Nuts & Milk from that region's Virtual Console. Unfortunately, the same can't be said if you own a recent Nintendo system that originates from North America or Europe.)

Princess Tomato in the Salad Kingdom (NES)--All you really need to know about this 1991 release: it's an old-school point-and-click adventure starring anthropomorphic pieces of produce. That alone should make you sit down and play it, in my opinion. If that's not enough, consider its grin-inducing visuals and its jaunty soundtrack. Also, Princess Tomato in the Salad Kingdom can be picked up quickly and cheaply via the Wii eShop if you have that Nintendo console or the Wii U. Why the higher-ups at Konami (which now owns Hudson's intellectual properties) have yet to slip the game onto any region's 3DS eShop is beyond me.



Saturn Bomberman (Saturn)--If you play just one of the games discussed here, let it be this one. In my humble opinion, this is the best, most enjoyable Bomberman game to ever see the light of day. Plus, its graphics are so adroitly drawn and animated they'll make you tear up. As for Saturn Bomberman's music, I can't say it'll make you cry, but it'll definitely help set the mood for a properly thorough play session. If you're without a Sega Saturn and a copy of this game, by the way, you can buy the next best thing, Bomberman '94 for the PC Engine, from the Wii eShop or the PlayStation Store.

Star Parodier (PC Engine)--I fell in love with this overhead, vertical-scrolling shoot 'em up the second I found out one of its selectable ships was a PC Engine system that takes down oncoming enemies with HuCards and CDs and deflects their projectiles using controllers that double as as shields. (You can choose to pilot Bomberman, too, curiously enough.) Sadly, that's about the wackiest thing you can say about Star Parodier. The rest of its content is quite a bit less intriguing than similar games like Parodius and Pop'n TwinBee. Still, this Super CD-ROM2 title is well worth checking out if you're a fan of the shmup genre in particular or cute games in general.

Are you a fan of a Hudson Soft-made or -published game not discussed here? Let me--and others--know about it in the comments section below.

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

Help me solve the mystery of Bubble Bobble's many Famicom Disk System releases

When the NES port of Taito's classic quarter-muncher Bubble Bobble hit North American store shelves back in late 1988, its PCB and ROM were packed inside the standard gray cartridges that are now considered iconic.

The game's Japanese release, however, was quite different. First, it happened a year earlier--just before Halloween in 1987. Second, the game wasn't sold on one of the brilliantly colorful carts that defined Nintendo's Famicom on that side of the pond. Instead, it was sold on one of the banana-yellow diskettes that defined the Japan-only Famicom Disk System.



That's just part of the story, though. How so? Well, most people who have any interest in Bubble Bobble or Nintendo's 8-bit consoles know that Taito offered Japanese consumers an undeniably fabulous limited edition version of the game.

This LE, showcased in the photo below, included a copy of the game and a larger-than-usual instruction manual--both of which were stuffed within a soft plastic pencil case that featured the Bubble Bobble logo and adorable depictions of main characters Bub and Bob.



But that's not the only version of Bubble Bobble that was made available to Famicom Disk System owners. Another was included in a thick plastic case (it's nearly twice as thick as the typical FDS case) and came packaged with a manual that's smaller--and, uh, pinker--than the one made for the above-mentioned LE.

The mystery I'm looking to solve here is this: was this last version of Bubble Bobble FDS released alongside the LE as that region's "standard edition"? And if so, why do copies of it rarely pop up on auction sites like eBay or even in online photos?



In fact, I've come across so few of them over the years that I've long assumed they were bootlegs. I'm now pretty sure they're official, but that doesn't answer the questions I posed a couple of paragraphs ago.

Is it possible more limited editions were produced for Bubble Bobble's Famicom Disk System port than standard ones? Or is there some other explanation to all of this?

If you have an idea--even just a guess--as to what that may be, please share it in the comments section below.

Shall We Do It? (Great Greed, Kingdom's Item Shop, Onyanko Town and SaGa Frontier)

I know it's no longer surprising to hear me say I haven't spent much time playing games in recent days and weeks.

Unfortunately, it's the truth--and has been for a while now. That's mainly because I went from being acceptably busy to ridiculously busy earlier this year when I was promoted at work (from senior writer to managing editor). Before, I pretty much never brought work home with me; now, I work basically every weekend and also some weeknights.

And when I'm not working, my attention's often pulled away from playing games to take care of all those boring things nearly everyone has to do on a daily basis--cleaning the house, cooking dinner, exercising, yadda yadda yadda.

Oh, and I have to maintain this blog.

I was able to shove most of that aside just long enough the last two weekends to put in some time with the following titles. Keep reading to hear what I think of those experiences.

Great Greed (GameBoy)--Until a couple of years ago (right before I bought a copy of Bitamina Oukoku Monogatari, the Japanese version of this portable RPG), I was completely unaware of Namco's Great Greed. Which is too bad, as I now know I would've loved working my way through it as a teen. (It was released in Japan in 1992 and crossed the pond the next year.)

Why? The main reason is the battles. They're as snappy as you're ever going to get in a turn-based RPG on the GameBoy. All of them are one-on-one tussles (the game's protagonist versus a single enemy) and they move along at a nice pace thanks to the fact that commands are mapped to the system's A and B buttons as well as its control pad. (A prompts you to attack, B causes you to dodge and the d-pad casts magic.)

On top of that, Great Greed has a surprisingly stunning soundtrack. And then there's its undeniable weirdness. Some of the themes and other things you'll encounter while playing it: time travel, flan enemies, environmental pollution, corrupt politicians and dungeons set in abandoned record factories. In other words, it's basically the best game in existence.



Kingdom's Item Shop (3DS)--I've got to be honest: I paid little attention to this ASOBOX- and PUMO-developed game between the time publisher Circle Entertainment announced and released it. In fact, it wasn't until someone asked me (in the comments section of this recent post) if I'd bought Kingdom's Item Shop that I was made aware of it.

That push prompted me to do a little digging, which brought me to the screenshot above. As soon as I saw that, I was hooked. That's because the scene in question reminds me of an old PC Engine CD title I've had my eye on for years: Monster Maker. Granted, the games are nothing alike--Kingdom's Item Shop is more of a store-running sim with some fun, fast-paced battles thrown in for good measure, while Monster Maker is a full-on, traditional RPG--but that's never stopped me from salivating over a game before.

Anyway, Kingdom's Item Shop is a whole heap of fun. There's no question it has that "mobile game" feel, but at least the feeling here is of quality rather than "cash in." Those fights I mentioned a couple of sentences ago are the highlight, by the way. They're not what you're used to, though; in this adventure, you give commands to for-hire combatants and then race around the battlefield picking up items and ingredients dropped by your foes.

Then you take your haul back to your shop and use those components to concoct enticing products--drinks, food dishes, weapons, clothes and more--for the titular kingdom's inhabitants to snap up. There may be more to the experience than that, but for the moment, that's it as far as I'm concerned. And I'm more than OK with that.

Onyanko Town (Famicom)--I've been curious about this Micronics-made and Pony Canyon-published cartridge for ages now thanks to its adorable box art. Why I waited until a couple of weekends ago to play it for the first time, I can't say.

Am I glad I've finally experienced it? In a way, yes. I say that because Oynanko Town's graphics, while simple, are miles better than what I'd expect from a developer that's never before pinged my radar. (I especially like the sprite of the dress-wearing mama cat that serves as the game's protagonist.) Its gameplay, which reminds of Namco's classic Pac-Man, also surprises.

On the other hand, Onyanko Town is far from a perfect game. While the main backing tune is catchy, it's also piercing and wears out its welcome after just a few minutes. Even worse is the slowdown that regularly brings the action on offer here to a crawl. That's a big deal because the point of the game is hunt down your baby kitten and then bring him (or is it a her?) back home without being accosted by the many dogs and butchers who roam each of the cart's expansive stages.

The latter issue is especially disappointing, as I could see Onyanko Town being held up as a treasured classic, or at least a hidden gem, if it weren't sometimes so frustratingly slow.

SaGa Frontier (PlayStation)--It's been a long time since I've played this wackadoodle, late-1990s RPG. So why am I returning to it now? Because my friend finchiekins suggested it.

OK, so there was more to the decision than that. After all, SaGa Frontier is one of my all-time favorite games. What can I say? I adore its absolutely bonkers, combo-filled battle scenes, which did the overkill thing way before Disgaea and its ilk entered the picture. Also, its Kenji Ito-composed soundtrack is beyond fabulous and deserves to be discussed right alongside the music created for two other Squaresoft greats, Final Fantasy V and VI. Finally, there's something undeniably cool about being able to play through an RPG multiple times using different protagonists.

Have SaGa Frontier's graphics stood the test of time? Hardly, but let's be honest: a lot of people considered it hideous when it first saw the light of day. In that context, I'd say it's no more ugly today than it was back then. Plus, I've always found its character sprites and (somewhat poorly) pre-rendered enemies rather appealing. Even if I didn't, I'm pretty sure I'd still look at SaGa Frontier lovingly thanks its many other positive traits.

See also: previous 'Shall We Do It?' posts