Review: Abadox (NES)

If the intro cinematic for Abadox doesn't get you excited to play it, I doubt anything I say will change your mind. The setup seems pretty simple. You play as a blaster-toting spaceman who must cut a path through the insides of a living planet-sized alien. The action alternates between side-scrolling and top-down perspectives in classic on-rails shooter fashion. Abadox isn't a perfectly balanced game, but it does have an impeccable visual flair that upholds and builds upon the more-than-competent shooter skeleton.

The analogy of visually overlaying a skeleton is particularly apt in Abadox too. In a genre where it's pretty easy to default to jets, tanks and other standard military combat fare, Abadox rises above a lot of the competition with its disgusting, fleshy art direction that still carries over despite the 8-bit representation. Giant tongues writhe and intestinal masses twitch as disembodied eyeballs and teeth attack from all sides. Altogether it amounts to one of the most creatively repulsive-looking games I've played.

By all accounts, Abadox operates as a serviceable shooter, and true to the hardcore leanings of more contemporary takes on the genre, it's strikingly difficult in a few places. There is an emphasis on pattern memorization and flawless maneuvering to the degree that continuing after your first death (enemies kill you in one hit unless you have certain expendable power-ups) can be a frustrating struggle. After a fatal mistake, your character is reset to just after the most recent boss battle with only your initial bare-bones abilities, expounding the treacherousness of the part of the game that was already difficult to pass with an upgraded arsenal. If nothing else, this forces you to learn the intricacies of the enemy placements, which will inform successive playthroughs.

That said, I seemed to die by running into walls as much as anything else. So, when the game allows the spaceman character model to overlap solid surfaces a little on the top and bottom, the inconsistency of what counts as "contact" is magnified as a significant problem in a game that asks for such agile pathfinding. I'd have to assume that the flipside of this "bug" is that it's an attempt to compromise on the lessened negative space that exists as a result of using relatively large character models. These detailed sprites help set Abadox apart from other similar games like Life Force that may control with more fidelity but offer only minuscule shaceships or indistinguishable triangle forms as protagonists.

Abadox distinguishes itself visually as a unique slice of genre-fare with a solid Konami-like soundtrack. It can satisfy some impulse-play tendencies, but once some of the more arduous levels pop up, Abadox increasingly becomes a casual gamer's nightmare. Abadox is far from being a purveyor of "bullet hell," but it's also not to be taken lightly.

:screenshots from VGMuseum:

Review: Metal Gear (NES)

As I'm playing many of these acclaimed game franchise originators, I've noticed that some possess certain core elements that make the game a blast to play even on older hardware, and others seem overly ambitious or less-than-fully-realized until further iterations down the road. Metal Gear definitely qualifies for the latter category. For example, the first descriptor that springs to mind when I think of the Metal Gear series is "cinematic," owing a significant debt to the movements of the camera in a 3-dimensional space to convey a story across cutscenes in Metal Gear Solid and beyond. This debut game, ported from the truer MSX computer version, isn't able to pull off, in large part, what are understood as the concepts that Metal Gear does best.

This isn't to say that Metal Gear is totally lacking in Hideo Kojima signatures (behold the cardboard box!), but they do come of as underdeveloped in many cases. The largest innovation Metal Gear brought to the table was the notion of stealth gameplay, which stood in substantial opposition to the run 'n gun and brawler games that the action genre was so saturated with. The idea of not destroying everything that moves was certainly novel, as was the narrative twist (along with the something's-not-right-here hints) towards the end of the game. Seeing those two aspects carried out at what feels like such an embryonic stage for the Metal Gear franchise was my favorite component of playing Metal Gear, because it felt like I was seeing the beginning of something great.

You still take control of Solid Snake here, infiltrating the oft future-referenced Outer Heaven stronghold, to rescue POWs and gather intelligence about what kinds of heinous activities are taking place there. You're dropped off on the island in the jungle with only your fists and a pack of cigarettes at your disposal. Early on you learn how to use cover to your advantage to sneak up behind guards and take them out quietly. Throughout the game you will build an arsenal of weapons and gadgets that will make handling unfriendlies much easier and allow access to areas of the map that would have been otherwise restricted. Freeing POWs and responding to transceiver frequencies will prompt you to the next destination and provide hints for items to look out for.

The problem is in how the game actually plays, despite the grandiose framework it's supposedly built on. The efficacy of the stealth method is often compromised by indecipherable hit detection. When you approach an enemy from above, it's a touchy guessing game to see how close you need to be to land a punch. Character movement is also a bit clunky as Snake frequently gets snagged attempting to hug around corners. These aspects suck some of the cool factor out of the Escape from New York-inspired protagonist.

I can't go any further without addressing the cumbersome and tedious menu system, which interrupts the flow of the game throughout its entirety. You can assign one weapon and one item to your A and B buttons from the menu screens, but anytime you want to switch, you must reenter the menu and choose the new item. Other games have pulled this off without issue as even the original Legend of Zelda comes to mind. The main flaw here is that the game is full of doors that require 1 of 8 keycards to pass through them, and each of these cards are represented as separate items on the menu. This means approaching a door and pausing and unpausing the game up to 8 times until the correct card has been found. It's baffling in the face of such a simple solution as recognizing the highest rank keycard in your possession and allowing doors to open accordingly without having to individually equip them. I'd recommend keeping a map handy just to eliminate the trial and error process. Finally, with regard to the menu, it's worth mentioning the inconsistencies of its button navigation. The "back" button varies depending on which section you're looking at, making even simple menu navigation require memorizing an obtuse control scheme.

There remain a cavalcade of other minor annoyances in Metal Gear that serve to mar what could have been a truly great game. Each caveat adds it's own brand of monotony to the proceedings, leading you to trudge through one poorly designed element after another. I won't list all of the issues individually, but the point is that what this game lacks that the Metal Gear Solid series really utilized to its advantage, is polish. I understand that Kojima has dismissed this NES port as some kind of bastard child, but regardless of where the blame lies, even he understands where this forebearer fell short. And no, Metal Gear is not a bad game, but it's certainly not up to the usual standards of the pedigree behind it.

:screenshots from VGMuseum:

Review: Pixelated (Mobile)

This past weekend after my Samsung Instinct touchscreen phone died, I picked up a sharp new BlackBerry Curve and set out to see what apps I could download for free. A quick stop at the Top 10 list gave me the game Pixelated by Ebscer, which turns out to be a simple and addictive little puzzle experience. The game sort of plays like a combination of 7up's Spot for the NES and Tetris if you play with the random garbage blocks turned on to fill up a level. Beginning in the upper left corner, you have 21 turns to switch the entire mess of colored blocks on screen to one color. You select one color at a time to decide which color of adjoining blocks to convert next. Soon the rectilinear blob will be overtaking the rest of the squares in waves as you make strategic decisions as to which color selection will yield the greatest advancement while also tunneling the most effective avenue across the board.

Pixelated's appearance is as basic as it gets, this side of color TV. The squares are as directly geometric as they sound and there are no graphical flourishes or sound effects to correspond with the moves you make. That said, the game doesn't really require any of that, and it's otherwise justified by the game's nonexistent price tag (unless you want to Plus version, which has extra difficulty settings and other options). I basically made a competitive analog version of this game 2 years ago using construction paper and a tile floor, so I understand why Pixelated's banal aesthetic has it's own brand of appeal. Also, this being a mobile game, the easier it is to distinguish between objects, the better.

I'm just speaking from playing the free version, but one of the keys to Pixelated's addictiveness is the 21-move completion point. For the size of the board, 21 moves is the perfect number to maintain a relative level of difficulty and force most rounds down to the wire. I actually enjoy how the free version doesn't display a move counter, adding a degree of suspense when you whittle the screen down to a couple of remaining squares and you wonder for a quarter second whether or not you've got enough selections left to complete the round. Maybe I'm being overly dramatic about what is essentially an on-the-go twitch puzzle experience, but I still see a simplistic elegance at work.