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.

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.

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)'

Boy, does this piece of Pac-Land art (produced by madamluna) bring back memories...

Of all the games I've attached memories to over the years, Pac-Land has to be among the oddest. After all, it's not like this quarter-muncher from 1984 is one of Namco's most-loved releases. Hell, it's not even one of the company's most-loved Pac-Man spin-offs.

I guess Pac-Land just came into my life at the right place and time. The former is especially relevant to this story, I think, considering the setting of my earliest memory of the game is a shopping-mall arcade that was located a few hours away from where I grew up.

I'm sad to say I can't remember exactly how old I was when I first encountered the Pac-Land cabinet in the aforementioned arcade, but I'm pretty sure I was in my early teens. Regardless, I distinctly remember my incredulous reaction to it. After all, this was a Pac-Man game that looked and played like the original Super Mario Bros.

And don't forget: this was back when the Internet was but a gleam in Al Gore's eye. If you didn't read gaming mags at that time, you often didn't know which quarter-munchers were being released or when until you walked into your local arcade, bar, bowling alley and the like.

Anyway, I was blown away the first time I laid eyes on Pac-Land. Admittedly, its odd control scheme--one button moves Pac-Man to the right, one moves him to the left and one makes him jump--leaves something to be desired, as does the repetitive simplicity of its overall gameplay, but this platformer's vividly colorful, "Saturday morning cartoon" visuals do quite a bit to make up for those flaws--or at least that's the effect they've always had on me.

All of the above should help explain why the piece of art that serves as the focus of this post resonated with me as much as it did when I first came across it late last week. Actually, I'm pretty sure it would have resonated with me even if I weren't an unabashed Pac-Land fan thanks to the unmistakable look of innocence and wonder that's splashed across Pac-Man's face.

Artist Pauli Kohberger, aka madamluna, is responsible for this winsome illustration, by the way. If you'd like to see more examples of her work--and, really, why wouldn't you?--head over to madamluna.deviantart.com at your earliest convenience.

Five arcade classics I wish had been ported to certain handhelds

You may be wondering what prompted me to write this post. Strangely enough, it came to mind while I was playing the Game Gear port of Namco's quarter-munching classic, Mappy, last week.

While admiring the quality of the adaptation, I couldn't help but wonder why Namco ended its Game Gear ports with Galaga, Mappy and Pac-Man. What about Warp & Warp (aka Warpman), The Tower of Druaga or Dig Dug?

That line of thinking then led to me to ponder why some other arcade classics--like the five detailed below--were never ported to the following handheld systems despite the fact that they would've been perfect fits (or at least interesting fits) for each other.

Baby Pac-Man (DS or 3DS)--I've wanted to play this half-Pac-Man-game-half-pinball-machine oddity at home ever since I encountered it in a local arcade as a teen. I can see why it never earned a console conversion, of course, but a DS or 3DS version could've been (or could still be) magical. The question is: who would develop and publish it, Bally Midway or Namco? (My guess: neither!)

Detana!! TwinBee (WonderSwan Color)--For some strange reason, the folks at Namco only made one game, Beatmania, for the WonderSwan, and even then it was for the original black-and-white version of Bandai's niche-y handheld rather than its colorized follow-up. Why they never ported this pastel-coated cute 'em up to the WonderSwan Color is beyond me, as I have to imagine a lot of gamers would've enjoyed playing it with their portable of choice held vertically.

Dig Dug (Game Gear)--I'm sure the powers that be at Namco had their reasons for not green-lighting this handheld port, but for the life of me I can't fathom what they may have been. After all, the company's portable re-imaginings of Galaga, Mappy and Pac-Man are about as spot-on as could've been expected. (By the way, I also wish Namco had made and released a Game Gear version of Marvel Land--even though its graphics would've had to have been downsized and simplified quite a bit.)

Don Doko Don (GameBoy Color)--Don Doko Don has long had a place in my pixelated heart for all sorts of reasons, which is why it saddens me that Taito never released a handheld version. Although the GameBoy Advance could've received an arcade-perfect port, I think I'd actually have preferred to see one that was more of an homage to the original (a la Bubble Bobble for Game Gear), hence my call for it to be made for the GameBoy Color instead.

Mr. Do! (Neo Geo Pocket Color)--I don't know about you, but I think it would've been awesome it someone had brought this Dig Dug-esque game to SNK's brick-like handheld in some form or fashion--especially if they'd updated the graphics a bit like ADK did when they remade Make Trax for the system (after renaming it Crush Roller). Instead, NGPC owners were given a million pachinko simulators. Not fair!

You say Bubble Bobble clone, I say Fairyland Story clone

Over the years, a lot of games--such as Chip Chan Kick!, Don Doko Don, Parasol Stars, Rod Land and Snow Bros.--have been called "Bubble Bobble clones." That's always struck me as a bit funny (despite the fact that I've often used the phrase myself--in this recent post about Pop'n Magic, for instance), as I think it would be a lot more accurate to call them clones of The Fairyland Story.

What, you've never heard of The Fairyland Story? No worries, here's a brief history of this not-quite-classic: Developed by Taito, it first hit the floors of the world's arcades--and bars and bowling alleys and whatnot--in 1985. The game's protagonist, a puny witch named Ptolemy, prances from castle-themed stage to castle-themed stage while transforming a cast of surprisingly cuddly enemies--including dragons, helmeted (and knife-wielding) pigs and wizards--into cakes with her trusty wand and then smooshing them to smithereens (often by pushing them off of ledges and onto unsuspecting baddies).

Getting back to why the above-mentioned games should be called clones of The Fairyland Story and not Bubble Bobble, there are three reasons for it, in my mind: 1) The Fairyland Story predates Bubble Bobble by a year, 2) the former clearly informed the development of the latter (a number of The Fairyland Story's power-ups, such as the fire cross and the earthquake book, also appear in Bubble Bobble) and 3) none of the titles listed in the opening paragraph of this post actually copied the mechanics of Taito's most classic of quarter-muchers.

So, does all of this mean that I'll stop describing games as "Bubble Bobble clones" and start calling them clones of The Fairyland Story instead? Probably not, but only because most folks have never heard of the earlier title. That said, I'll do my best to plop the phrase "Fairyland Story clone" into a post every now and then--you know, just to keep things honest.

Any game with pixelated cobs of corn in it sounds pretty good to me

I've never before played Ponpoko, an ancient arcade platformer produced by a company called Sigma Entertainment, but after reading about it over at redparsley.blogspot.com a few days ago, I plan on rectifying the situation as soon as possible.

That's not only because this 1982 release features, as suggested in the headline above, pixelated cobs of corn, mind you. No, it's also because it stars an adorably big-bellied (at least I think that's its belly...) tanuki. I also like that it has mice that look kind of like scorpions and can fly through the air as easily as they can skitter across the ground.

Now that I've piqued your interest in this maniacal quarter-muncher, I'm guessing you'd like to see how it looks in action? If so, here you go:



Awesome, eh? OK, so "awesome" may be too strong a word, but it's certainly pretty cute, don't you think? Granted, I'm a complete sucker for games that are filled with fruits and veggies, so maybe I'm the wrong person to ask such a question.

Anyway, I plan on giving this one a go fairly soon--despite my oft-reported disdain for playing games on a PC.

Let's Play: 'Which Box Art is Better?' (Rainbow Islands edition)

I haven't always been a fan of Rainbow Islands. In fact, the first few times I played this Fukio Mitsuji-designed platformer I hated it. That's probably because I expected it to look and feel like its predecessor, Bubble Bobble. It wasn't until I got over the fact that "The Story of Bubble Bobble 2" wasn't a straight-up sequel to what I consider one of the best quarter-munchers ever made that it finally earned a place in my heart.

Even when I didn't like this arcade classic, though, I wanted to like it thanks to the wonderfully colorful cover art that was created for many of its console ports.

For instance, the Famicom version's box art, below, features a number of the game's characters crafted out of what looks like clay (or is it wood?).

The art that graces the cover of the FM Towns port, on the other hand, is two-dimensionally cartoonish.

The Mega Drive version's box art spotlights the game's various islands (each of which has a different theme) as well as a particularly bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked take on its protagonist, Bubby.

Speaking of Bubby, the cherubic character takes up a ton of acreage on the PC Engine CD-ROM2 port's cheerful cover.

The art that appears on the PC Engine release's box is my least favorite of the bunch, by the way. Which one is my most favorite? The Famicom version's--although I have to admit that I like the FM Towns and Mega Drive versions' box art quite a bit, too.

Now that I've had my say, which piece of Rainbow Islands box art do you like best?

See also: Previous 'Which Box Art is Better?' posts