Happy 15th anniversary, Animal Crossing!

Excuse me for sharing this story again, but Animal Crossing first hit North American store shelves 15 years ago today, so I think it bears repeating.

Which story? The one that goes something like this:

Before Animal Crossing was released in my neck of the woods on Sept. 15, 2002, I was only mildly curious about the GameCube. I found early titles like Luigi's Mansion, Pikmin, Super Mario Sunshine and Super Monkey Ball awfully appealing, but not appealing enough to purchase the disc-based successor to the Nintendo 64.

Even Animal Crossing's initial release didn't prompt me to pick up a GameCube--despite my keen interest in the game.

No, it wasn't until a year later, when Nintendo dropped the GameCube's price to $99 and published a "Player's Choice" version of this adorable life sim that I jumped in with both feet. The rest, as they say, is history.

I still fondly remember my gaming setup in those days. My husband and I lived in a tiny apartment (just 450 square feet, at most) in Madison, Wisconsin, at the time, so I after my silver GameCube and a copy of this game arrived on our doorstep I promptly tucked both of them and a similarly tiny TV into one of the corners of our bedroom.

I played Animal Crossing whenever I could from that moment forward. In fact, I'd go so far as to say I quickly became obsessed with it--checking in on my big-headed, stubby limbed avatar (a pink-haired girl, if I'm remembering correctly) at least once, and often a couple of times, a day.

At some point, many months down the road (maybe eight, but definitely not 12), it all became a bit much and I walked away from my first Animal Crossing town and all of its anthropomorphic inhabitants cold turkey.

That's actually become a tradition for me with this long-running series. Every Animal Crossing game I've tackled since this GameCube iteration has fascinated me to the point that I played them daily until I felt I either had to walk away without a backward glance or risk my sanity.

As much as I've enjoyed all of those subsequent titles--New Leaf, especially--none has matched the original. Yes, the first Animal Crossing (at least as far as folks outside of Japan are concerned) is by far the most antiquated, but I also think it's the most focused.

My affinity for this Animal Crossing's simplicity probably explains why it's the only entry in the series I've ever returned to--and not just once, but multiple times.

I'm sure that will remain true even after the inevitable Switch title drops next year or the year after, no matter how great the latest sequel is.

How about you? Do you return to Animal Crossing for the GameCube now and then? Or do you have particularly fond memories of your only playthrough of this one-of-a-kind experience? If so, share some of them in the comments section below.

My 10 Most Influential Games: Planet's Edge (PC)

I've made no secret of the fact that I don't much care for computer gaming these days. The thing is, that's the only way I played--and enjoyed--games before my brother and I got an NES.

First, we used an Apple IIe to play classics like Apple Panic, Miner 2049er, Moon Patrol and The Oregon Trail. Then, we used a Windows PC. I don't remember the make or model, but I do remember a handful of the games I played on it: The 7th Guest, Day of the Tentacle and Planet's Edge.

Of all the above-mentioned titles, Planet's Edge is the one that has stuck with me the most over the years.

Curiously, I don't remember why we bought it. I have a feeling my brother read or heard about it somewhere--he was really into sci-fi movies, novels and games back then--and that's what pushed us to pick it up.



At any rate, I spent as much time with Planet's Edge as he did--to the point that I'd say it's as responsible as any other game for turning me on to the RPG genre. More importantly, this New World Computing release from 1992 opened my eyes to and made me aware of the joys of resource gathering and mining in a role-playing game.

Not that resource gathering and mining is the sole focus of this intergalactic adventure. As you work to retrieve Earth from some sort of "wormhole trap" (the planet disappears at the start of the game), you, controlling a four-member crew, also build and pilot spacecraft, battle other ships, investigate the surfaces of far-flung planets, fight their inhabitants and more.

(For those looking for a few more details, every playthrough of Planet's Edge begins on the moon. After outfitting a rather rudimentary spaceship, you and your cohorts lift off in search of information, ship parts and resources. Encountering alien craft along the way sometimes results in amiable chatter, while at other times it results in trade and even combat. If you successfully make it to another planet, you have to maneuver your vessel into its orbit before you can set down. Once on the ground, you move your foursome--viewed from a top-down, isometric perspective--as you do in most turn-based RPGs. Loot gathered from the mission is hauled back to the moon, where you can then upgrade your spacecraft before once again setting off for distant lands.)

To be honest, battles in Planet's Edge can be a pain, especially when it takes place in space. On-the-ground tussles are less aggravating, but only a bit. Thankfully, the annoyances associated with the latter are mostly offset by all of the intriguing loot that's made available to you as you explore the game's many alien outposts.

Plus, Planet's Edge does such a great job of fleshing out its expansive world that these missteps are easy enough to overlook--especially if sci-fi settings in RPGs tend to thrill you.



That's been the case for me ever since I first booted up Planet's Edge as a teenager, which is why I decided to declare it one of the 10 titles that most shaped my taste in video games.

Would I have become a fan of loot-heavy, planet-hopping RPGs had I not stumbled across this one decades ago? Probably, but at the moment I can't come up with a similar title that's had such an indelible impact on me.

To this day, I still regularly reminisce about about various aspects of my initial Planet's Edge playthrough. I especially enjoy recalling the excitement I felt when I first touched down on a previously unexplored world, or when I first encountered a rare or unusual resource or material.

I doubt I'll ever play this old PC game again, but that's OK with me. My fond memories of it are sure to be better than a second run-through anyway.

See also: previous '10 Most Influential Game' posts about The 7th Guest, Balloon Kid, Bubble Bobble, Final Fantasy V, Kid Icarus and Panzer Dragoon

Happy (belated) 26th anniversary, Final Fantasy IV!

Although I recently singled out Final Fantasy V as one of the 10 titles that most shaped my taste in video games (read this post for more of my thoughts on the matter), that doesn't mean I dislike its 1991 predecessor.

On the contrary, I adore Final Fantasy IV nearly as much as I adore Final Fantasy V. The former's characters, graphics and soundtrack all blew me away when the game originally landed on store shelves 26 years ago--nearly to the day, if we're talking about the Japanese release--and they continue to have a special place in my heart today.

Going back a bit, though, can you believe Final Fantasy IV first saw the light of day 26 whole years ago? Actually, I can believe it, as it definitely feels like it's been ages since I was 15. (That's how old I was when the game hit the streets in my neck of the woods.)

Illustration by bykillt

That said, I remember tackling Final Fantasy IV for the first time like it was yesterday. The SNES my older brother and I shared was set up in the lower level of our childhood home, attached to a tiny color TV our parents bought us for Christmas a few years earlier. (Granted, it was quite the improvement from the even smaller black-and-white television we previously used to play our stack of NES carts.) As we did with most games back then, my brother and I huddled in front of the aforementioned monitor and slowly but surely made our way through Final Fantasy IV as a team. One of us would play for a few hours--with more than a bit of verbal assistance, of course--and then hand the controller to the other so he could do the same.

My fondest memories of that initial experience (spoiler alert!): being introduced to Rydia and her summoning skills, climbing Mt. Ordeals so Cecil could become a Paladin, Palom and Porom sacrificing themselves, and journeying to the moon to defeat Zeromus and save the planet.

What are your most cherished memories associated with Final Fantasy IV? Also, which version of the game do you like best? (I personally prefer the original release, though I'm also pretty fond of the DS remake.)

See also: previous posts about Dōbutsu no Mori's 15th anniversary, the GameBoy Advance's 15th anniversary, the GameBoy's 28th anniversary, the SNES' 25th anniversary, Sega's 56th anniversary and Taito's 63rd anniversary

Introducing: the Singing Mountain podcast

I've been a fan of Drew Mackie's Back of the Cereal Box blog ever since I first came across it--which was shortly after it made its debut in early 2003, if memory serves.

If this is the first you're hearing of Back of the Cereal Box, boiled down, it's a pop-culture blog. Or, as Mackie himself puts it, it's a "record of the weird ways pop culture intersects with [his] life."

Often, it's a record of how pop culture intersects with his life as a gay man who has long loved video games.

Considering all of the above, it shouldn't surprise that Mackie piqued my interest when he revealed his plans to launch a podcast about video game music.

Singing Mountain is the result of those plans. In the four podcasts he's published so far, Mackie's discussed Super Mario RPG, the Mega Man series, The Great Giana Sisters and EarthBound.

That's not the full extent of what's covered in Singing Mountain's initial batch of episodes, mind you. The latest ("Ric Ocasek in Moonside"), for instance, focuses on EarthBound while also bringing Mackie's childhood, The Cars, Salvador Dali’s “The Persistence of Memory,” the litigiousness of Beatles and even Janet Jackson into the mix.

Hell, Mackie may even introduce you to a new word or two if you keep your ears peeled. He certainly expanded my vocabulary a bit when he dropped the word diegetic into his commentary on Onett's arcade theme.

See also: posts about The Nichiest Podcast Ever

My 10 Most Influential Games: Final Fantasy V (Super Famicom)

I've got to say, I had a hard time deciding whether I should write about Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy IV or Final Fantasy V here.

Why? Well, as far as the original Final Fantasy is concerned, it was the first console RPG that really grabbed me. I played Dragon Warrior (Dragon Quest now days) before Final Fantasy and liked it well enough, but I preferred Square's effort to Enix's in almost every way.

Specifically, I liked that Final Fantasy provided players with four-person parties--a far cry from Dragon Warrior's solo mission. Also, players could assign classes or "jobs" to party members at the start of the former, while they were stuck with a seemingly generic "hero" in the latter.

Add in Final Fantasy's visible weapons and spells--neither are present in Dragon Warrior/Quest--and it should be easy to understand why younger me found Square's 8-bit RPG so fascinating.



Still, I wouldn't say Final Fantasy turned me into an "RPG fan." Sure, I liked the genre a whole lot more after I played through that game than I did before I played through it, but platformers and shmups continued to be my go-to genre until, well, the release of Final Fantasy IV (Final Fantasy II in my neck of the woods).

Speaking of Final Fantasy IV, although there's no question it pushed me further into "RPG fan" territory, it didn't really shape my taste in games--role-playing games or otherwise--moving forward.

Yes, I adored the first 16-bit entry in Squaresoft's Final Fantasy series, but if I'm allowed to be honest, it mostly just beefed up the superficial components of earlier Final Fantasy games. And in terms of its gameplay, it could be argued that Final Fantasy IV regressed a bit (or a lot) from its Japan-only, Famicom-based predecessor.

Final Fantasy V, on the other hand, seemed to my teenage self to be a real evolution from the titles that came before it. OK, so I couldn't fully understand its story at the time, but it resonated with me all the same. I especially appreciated how it featured a character--Faris Scherwiz--that defied gender roles.

I also found myself in awe of Final Fantasy V's soundtrack, which has always struck me as being more wistful than that of your average RPG.



This game's story and soundtrack weren't what influenced my taste in video games, though. So which aspects did? The best example I can offer up is its expansive job system. Final Fantasy III featured a similar (albeit less impressive) system, but I didn't play it until the DS remake was released in North America in 2006.

As such, I considered Final Fantasy V's pick-and-choose job system mind-blowing when I encountered it in the early 1990s. (It was one of the first games I ever imported from Japan. I still have that copy, by the way; it's showcased in the photos seen throughout this post.)

I especially loved how the Final Fantasy V job system allowed you to mix and match classes and skills. Want one of your party members to be a White Mage who can wield an axe? Spend some time as a Berserker until you've gained the "equip axes" ability and then make use of it after you switch over to the White Mage job.

Or maybe you want someone in your party who can use a pair of bells in battle? Have him or her take on the Ninja job until they've learned the "dual-wield" ability and then enable it as a Freelancer--especially after they've acquired, say, a Rune Chime and a Tinkerbell.



Although I can't quite say an RPG needs to have a highly customizable job system to attract my attention and otherwise appeal to me in a post-Final Fantasy V world, I can say without hesitation that my shortlist of favorite role-playing games is filled with titles that fit that bill. (A few cases in point: Bravely Default, Dragon Quest IX, Final Fantasy: The 4 Heroes of Light and Final Fantasy Tactics.)

Another way in which Final Fantasy V helped shape my taste in games: it solidified my love of RPGs that feature bevy of weapons that are visible in battle.

I first became aware of that interest after I acquired the coral sword in the first Final Fantasy, appropriately enough, but it wasn't until I experienced Final Fantasy V's plethora of axes, bells, hammers and harps that it blossomed into a full-on obsession.

Were any of you similarly influenced or enchanted by this 1992 release? If so, share why and how it impacted you in the comments section of this post.

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

My 10 Most Influential Games: Bubble Bobble (Arcade)

Although I have a pretty good memory, I'm rarely able to recall my first experiences with specific video games.

Thankfully, that's not true of my introduction to Bubble Bobble.

As I'm sure I've mentioned here before, my hometown has a rather nice bowling alley that my friends and I visited regularly while we were growing up. Tucked into its back corner were a slough of arcade cabinets and pinball machines, and we spent as much time playing them as we did bowling.

Among the games that gobbled up our hard-earned allowance money: Gauntlet, Karate Champ, Paperboy, Pole Position, Ring King, Xenophobe--and of course Bubble Bobble.

To be completely honest, I'm not entirely sure what drew my attention to Bubble Bobble's cabinet for the first time. I have a feeling it was the game's glorious, ear-wormy jingle, but it very well may have been its adorable, rainbow-coated visuals.

Something I remember clearly about my initial experiences with this classic quarter-muncher: I absolutely sucked at it. Although I blame some of my ineptitude on not fully understanding Bubble Bobble's rules right off the bat, but mostly I blame it on my life-long discomfort with using a joystick. (Ironic, right? Seriously, though, I've always preferred using a d-pad.)

Still, I kept coming back to it, and over time I got better and better at this Fukio Mitsuji-made (for Taito) title.

So, how did it influence my current taste in video games? It did so in a couple of ways, actually.

One is that it hurled me down the path toward loving games that feature collectible food items. Ms. Pac-Man showed me to its entrance (thanks to the level that offers up a pretzel rather than a piece of fruit, strangely enough), but Bubble Bobble and its bowls of sherbet, corndogs, sushi and martinis pushed me well inside.

Ever since, I've drooled over almost any game that includes such nabables. A few examples: Coryoon, Monster Lair, The New Zealand Story and Parasol Stars. (For more, read my old post, "the 10 fruitiest games (of which I'm aware).")

Bubble Bobble shaped my current taste in video games in another way as well--by opening my eyes to the wonderful world of single-screen platformers. (Here are some of my favorites, in case you're curious.)

Was Bubble Bobble the first single-screen platformer to see the light of day? Not by a long shot. A game called The Fairyland Story--also published by Taito, interestingly enough--beat Bub and Bob to the arcades by at least a year, and I wouldn't be surprised if a handful of other titles could claim the same.

Regardless, Bubble Bobble introduced me to the genre that's now one of my favorites. And not only that, but in the ensuing decades, it's served as a point of comparison for every other single-screen platformer that's come my way.

Naturally, none of those wannabes have quite stacked up to this 1986 release. I think that's because the game they so desperately try to ape is supremely focused and straightforward.

A case in point: unlike most of the games that have tried to snatch its genre-king crown over the years, Bubble Bobble keeps its control scheme simple. You can jump, you can blow bubbles, you can hop on bubbles--and that's basically it. (OK, so some levels let you pop bubbles that send lightning bolts at enemies or cover platforms with swaths of fire, but they're in the minority. The bulk of the game's levels force you to focus on the trio of aforementioned actions.)

Also, Bubble Bobble's stages never take up more than a single screen (hence the name of the gaming genre that contains it). And then, of course, there are its timeless graphics and its grin-inducing background tune.

At the end of the day, though, the aspect that keeps me coming back to Bubble Bobble, and that causes me to label it "influential," is its unfailingly enjoyable gameplay. Even when one of its stages is kicking my butt (an all too regular occurrence, I'm afraid), it never stops being fun.

I can't say that about too many games, can you?

See also: previous '10 Most Influential Games' posts about The 7th Guest and Balloon Kid.

I'm not sure if this should be a congratulatory post or an RIP post--regardless, happy 63rd anniversary, Taito!

I haven't always been the Taito fan I am today. Oh, sure, I liked Arkanoid and Space Invaders well enough when I was a kid, and of course I loved (and continue to love) Bubble Bobble, too, but that's about where my knowledge of and interest in this Tokyo-based company began and ended until a few years ago.

What changed and when? To be completely honest, I'm not sure. The best answer I can come up with at the moment is that my perception and appreciation of Taito--which first opened its doors on Aug. 24, 1953--changed slowly over time.



If I were to guess, I'd say this evolution (of sorts) began when my adoration of the game-maker's Bubble Bobble pushed me to give follow-ups Rainbow Islands and Parasol Stars a second (or even third) look. Neither platformer impressed me when I first played them earlier in life, but revisiting them with fresh eyes and a clear mind prompted a nearly instantaneous change of heart.

The same could be said of Taito titles like Don Doko Don, KiKi KaiKai, Mizubaku Daibouken (aka Liquid Kids) and The New Zealand Story. As much as I wanted all of these games to bowl me over during my initial experiences with them, none succeeded for one reason or another.

Thankfully, my newfound attraction to Rainbow Islands and Parasol Stars caused me to give them a second chance--and now I'm a fan of each and every one. (Mizubaku Daibouken, especially--it's now one of my all-time favorite games.)



After that, I actively searched for similar Taito releases I skipped over during the time in my life when I was idiotically unaware of the company's brilliance. That bit of legwork turned me on to titles like Chack'n Pop, Chuka Taisen, Hana Taaka Daka!?, Insector X, Jigoku Meguri, JuJu Densetsu and The Fairyland Story.

I also loosened up and gave some of the portable versions of these games a spin. Previously, I turned up my nose at most of them because they either lacked color--the idea of playing Bubble Bobble on the original GameBoy horrified me at the time--or they just seemed too watered down to be worth my while.

Imagine my shock, then, when I found many of Taito's on-the-go ports to be surprisingly well made, not to mention enjoyable. A few cases in point: Bubble Bobble for Game Gear, Bubble Bobble Junior for GameBoy and Puzzle Bobble for Game Gear.

What makes all of these Taito-made games so great? Their graphics and soundtracks are the obvious replies, but they're really only the tip of the iceberg. They draw you in, but if the gameplay that supports those superficial aspects was anything but stellar, most people would walk away after plodding through a few stages.

That's the component that keeps me coming back to Taito's best creations, at least. Every single title mentioned so far controls like a dream. And not only that, but most of them simply are a blast to play. To get a feel for what I mean, go play a couple of rounds of Bubble Bobble, Rainbow Islands, Parasol Stars or Mizubaku Daibouken.

Despite the challenge that's at the core of each of these games, the component that's likely to stand out for most folks is how fun it is to blow and pop bubbles (Bubble Bobble), conjure up and leap onto rainbows (Rainbow Islands) and send a torrent of water crashing into a mob of stunned enemies (both Parasol Stars and Mizubaku Daibouken).



That's the kind of magic Taito's designers and developers produced during the company's heyday, and that's why I'm doing my best to (belatedly) honor them today. I'd highly recommend you do the same if you've got the interest, means and time, as there's no doubt in my mind that your life will be made richer for putting even a few minutes into some of the games discussed here.

Note: a hearty thank you goes out to my Twitter pal, TepidSnake, for making me aware of the 63rd anniversary of Taito's existence

Thank you for playing: 15 years of Dōbutsu no Mori (Animal Crossing)

April 14th, 2001. That's the day Dōbutsu no Mori (Animal Forest in English) for the Nintendo 64 was released in Japan.

I haven't been playing the series since then, of course. Not that I can remember exactly when I started playing it. All I know is that the North American version of Japan's Dōbutsu no Mori+, a GameCube title that first hit store shelves in late 2001, is what pushed me to finally pick up a GC console.

The thing is, I distinctly remember waiting until the GameCube dropped to $99 in price before I bought one. Also, I'm pretty sure the copy of Animal Crossing I purchased alongside that system (a silver one, in case anyone's curious) was a "Player's Choice" release.

GameFAQs is telling me the "Player's Choice" iteration of Animal Crossing didn't drop until late 2003, so I guess that's around when I was introduced to the achingly lovely world of this long-running series.



I share all of that because I've been an Animal Crossing devotee ever since. I own every sequel that's seen the light of day between the first localized effort and today--well, except for Amiibo Festival. Hell, I own multiple copies of some of these titles.

Because of that, the video above, published via Nintendo of Japan's YouTube channel yesterday to celebrate the 15th anniversary of the series' launch, prompts a giant, teeth-baring smile to spread across my face each time I watch it. (And believe me, I've watched it a number of times in the last 12 or so hours.)

How about you? Are any of you huge Dōbutsu no Mori or Animal Crossing fans? Or do you have any particularly strong memories of your first Animal Crossing or Dōbutsu no Mori experience? If so, please feel free to share the love with me and others in the comments section below.

See also: an old post full of photos of Dōbutsu no Mori's splendid Nintendo 64 packaging and my review of Animal Crossing for the GameCube