Plays In: Various stages, but debuts in the stage of the same name Status: Original Composition
Composer: Mahito Yokota (not sure if it's exactly him, but it gives me the same vibes ala Gusty Garden Galaxy, so there!)
Jubilation. Cheer. Dance. Merriment. Joy. These are the words that spring to mind when describing Super Mario 3D World's best song. The moment I heard Double Cherry Pass's brief appearance in a behind-the-scenes video featuring the game's live performances, I said to myself "this is going to be a classic." A year later, it hasn't quite earned the esteemed reputation of other modern Mario classics such as Gusty Garden Galaxy, and I guess that's a bit of a shame.
"I guess" might sound apathetic, but I've only recently come to terms with my feelings regarding Super Mario 3D World--something I wrestled with for about a year now--and no matter how many adorable cat suits and wonderful big band music it throws at me, I can't siphon the same joy from it that most everyone else did. Bummer.
But just because I don't think a Mario game's a masterpiece doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it. It's still as charming as a fresh-born kitten, and I can't say I don't crack a grin every time I hear its wonderful soundtrack. Much like Yoshi's Island's Athletic, Double Cherry Hill is bouncy joviality distilled into aural form, incapable of inducing anything but of the brightest smiles. That it also accompanies to some of the game's best levels should be no coincidence--I've played the level of the same name countless times just to fool around with the cloning Double Cherry (dancing in sync with five Cat Marios is something special).
The best Mario songs strike that ever-elusive cord of animated zen. Be it the original Super Mario Bros. theme or Gusty Garden Galaxy, these songs represent the one secret wish hidden deep down within us: the desire to achieve and maintain happiness. To the cynical mind, Mario's just an avatar for us to overcome challenging level design. But to those who still carry the torch of childhood dreams, he's a hero who greets every pitfall and villain with smiles and laughter.
Super Mario 3D World may not be my favorite Mario game, but I know I'm not perfect either. When recognizing my own flaws, Double Cherry Pass allows me to tap into that jovial reverie I continue to seek and learn from. I'm come to recognize that 2014 was a new beginning in many ways for me, and I'm looking forward to realizing that throughout the new year.
Final Thoughts: Y'know, I asked for the Japanese Super Mario 3D World soundtrack for Christmas, but it still hasn't come yet! Whhhhhhhyyyyyyy
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See you all in the New Year! I'll be striving to provide constant updates for January, so stay tuned.
Plays In: Lilycove City Status: Original Composition Composers: Junichi Masuda
One of the greatest joys in playing through the Pokemon:Omega Ruby remake is being treated with fantastic rearrangements of the soundtrack. As expected from anyone who's read my Kirby: Nightmare in Dream Land review, my listening experience is something of a constant tug-of-war: as much as I'm enjoying the songs, the original songs still pull at my memory, asserting their superiority. Currently, it's about 50/50, but I suppose my full thoughts would be better suited for a review.
As I've only earned five gym badges at this point, there's quite a chunk of arrangements left for me to discover, such as the above Lilycove City. It's always been one of my favorite Ruby/Sapphire tracks in it's parallel: Hoenn emphasizes adventure in nearly route, and this is reflected in their appropriately grand/majestic tunes, yet the towns are so homely and soft in comparison. While this is nothing new for town themes, the boisterous adventure found outside their confines renders a warm, refreshing welcome to our ears after a tough day of monster grinding.
Being a prelude to the vast underwater trenches of Hoenn, the first new notes of Lilycove City perfectly capture the ocean air. It's something of a lovely waltz, and I can't help but think of the wonderful elders in my life whenever I hear it. It's fun to mentally prod around within the context of Pokémon too: an old man--a retired Pokémon Trainer, perhaps--out on another day with his wife, gazing at a flock of Wingulls circling above the sea as he quietly sips at his coffee.
I'm quite the reserved individual. I mean, sure, I'm a total goofball in social situations and within the anonymous expanses of internet message boards (Hi, NeoGAF), but I've come to recognize the former's only meant as a mask to cover my awkwardness; in truth, I'm much like an old man. I prefer silence, sit around a lot, and calmly reflect on the days of old. I'll likely be doing the same inactive routines ten years from now, and I'm quite content with that.
But as someone wishing to enter the game journalism industry, I don't think that's the image people have of those participating in it. I wonder if that'll be a problem?
Personal issues aside, I've yet to hear Omega Ruby's take on the song. Omega Ruby and Alpha Sapphire's arrangements aren't quite as laced with nostalgia in the same sense of Soul Silver/Heart Gold, but I'm looking forward to see if the song continues to make me feel old. Not that that's a bad thing.
Final Thoughts: maaannnn what they did with the mt. chimney theme was pretty lame though
I love me some crossover Dynasty Warriors spin-offs. Oh, sure, they carry the torch of repetition, but Hyrule Warriors was so laced with love that I couldn't help but be charmed by it. I knew I was captivated the moment I nearly shed tears laying the beatdown on my favorite Zelda race: the jolly, plump Gorons of Death Mountain.
If anything, I was more bothered by two significant issues, the most important being the lack of online co-op. Yes, I know Nintendo didn't publish the game in Japan, but I wouldn't be surprised if their agenda on restricting multiplayer to the living room reached Tecmo Koei. Despite my current obsession that is Super Smash Bros. for Wii U, I'd probably still be up for a few rounds were it compatible with Nintendo's servers.
...and then there's Fi. Why in the hell is the worst character ever created by Nintendo playable in this game? Granted, I knew there had to be some Skyward Sword representation whether I liked it or not, and I figured its incarnation of Impa as well and villain Ghirahim would be acceptable compromises. But Fi? Screw that noise. I kid you not, there was a mission in the game's Adventure Mode where it forced me to use the character while combatting three Imprisoned bosses; in other words, Skyward Sword's worst character against duplicates of Skyward Sword's worst boss. It was torture, lemme tell you.
Other than those oversights, Hyrule Warriors is a competent piece of turn-your-brain-off action and fanservice that I continue to go back to. Looking quite forward to its DLC!
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And so ends my time with Gaming Grunts! With my college internship course at an end, Hyrule Warriors serves as my final review for the website. While Gaming Grunts had been on a rocky road for the past half-year, I very much enjoyed my time with the site and am grateful for it serving as my first step into the world of gaming journalism.
So where do I go forward from here? The good news is that I've already begun to look at other pages to work at, and I'll hopefully land myself in one of them within the next few months. Stay tuned!
Hard to believe it's been nearly two weeks since I lasted played this. I've been captivated by the Wii U version's charms, you see.
The first Smash Bros. in six years--and on a handheld, no less--similarly charmed me. Any stumbles in control or stage representation were quickly disregarded in my eyes, as I was too busy engaging in the euphoria of playing a brand new Smash Bros. And it didn't disappoint: the new characters are all wildly creative and are a blast to play with (Villager!), the soundtrack is absolutely gorgeous and earwormy, and I'm not kidding when I claim how good the 3D effect is. Seriously, turn it on. You'll be surprised.
It's the Smash Run mode that captivated me the most, however. Being inspired by Kirby Air Ride's City Trial mode, the gradual empowerment achieved by the player feels as accomplished as ever, and it's just plain satisfying becoming a stats-ripped monster and beating down on familiar Nintendo baddies. It helps that the map is fun to explore and possess some downright beautiful aesthetics (I love the ruins-inspired design), and I dig how you can assign music for the BGM. Despite the limitations via lack of customization and no online, it's a shame the Wii U version didn't attempt a similar avenue (Smash Tour is okay, but it doesn't expand on the core gameplay). Honestly, I can't imagine why people dislike the mode, but I guess I've grown to accept that my own views on Smash have largely deviated from the rest of the fanbase.
I had the most magical moment with this game after the midnight launch. I set out to the hillside slope outside of my dorm hall and just held the 3DS up to the starry night sky. I unlocked the Magicant stage from Earthbound and tears trickled from my eyes as I heard the Magicant theme/Smiles and Tears arrangements for the first time. It's moments like these that are why I play Smash Bros.: it's long since evolved from being just a fighting/party game into something more nebulous, something more of a glorified celebration of worlds I've fiercely clutched to my heart for over sixteen years. And I'll continue to do so.
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Sorry for the absence of Biweekly Music Wedesday! It's Finals week, and those are always brutal. Expect it back next week.
Was I too harsh? Maybe so, but boy am I growing sick of Tales.
There was a time when Tales was set to become one of my favorite series. Tales of Symphonia was something of a calling: I'd dismissed the game due to the awkward beginning and for what I perceived as button-mashing nonsense, yet one day I suddenly required its presence in my life. That was right before one of the worst summers of my life, and Tales of Symphonia was my sole refuge. The game is something of a flawed masterpiece, but everything from its beautiful, charming fusion of fantasy and sci-fi tropes to its tongue-in-cheek skit dialogues compels me to replay it again and again, and it is my favorite non-Nintendo developed game ever made. Tales of the Abyss similarly charmed me, and I couldn't wait to dive into the rest of Tales...
...but alas, I've yet to play any further entries matching their quality. Vesperia was the closest with a superb blend of gameplay, sound and a gorgeous cel-shaded aesthetic, but the constant baiting of the plot irritated me far more than it should have. Graces was as bland as they come despite its advances via combat and the addictive title system, and the less said about Symphonia's garbage "spin-off" sequel in the Wii's Dawn of the New World, the happier I'll be.
The original Xillia's rushed development is something of a tragedy in my eyes: the beautiful character designs--imbued with fun base personalities--are squandered in the face of phoned-in laziness, be it a supremely dull overworld, endlessly reused assets, and a forgettable musical score (seriously, Motoi Sakuraba is capable of far more than this). As the review entails, Xillia 2 does not right its wrongs. There's more content, sure, but why exactly am I paying off a debt in a fantasy RPG? Why is the main character silent? Those two screw-ups were already major warning signs when looking up the game beforehand, but that it does absolutely nothing with its woefully stagnant cast and battle system is just beyond frustrating at this point.
At this point, Tales games are nothing more than JRPG junk food to me. Of course, like the Symphonia-addict I am, I'll keep plowing through them in search of that potential, but I'll likely end up dreaming of what they could be. Step up your game, Namco.
Since the passing of 2002, the already-troublesome situation for the Nintendo Gamecube had not improved. While Metroid Prime received universal acclaim and Animal Crossing was an unexpected success in the West, other long-awaited sequels weren't so lucky. Super Mario Sunshine's unorthodox F.L.U.D.D. mechanic and brutal difficulty turned off many longtime fans, while the ground-focused combat of Star Fox Adventures--not to mention the surreal, tonally unfitting shift of setting for the series--initiated a stigma that haunted the series ever since. With the aforementioned Game Boy Advance "port breeding ground" initiating cries of laziness, things weren't looking up for the Big N.
2003 wasn't promising. The already-controversial The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker launched that spring to American audiences and continued to split the community, with the most negatively-cited examples including its easy difficulty, padding, and obvious evidence of rushed development. Fans were still scratching their heads at the announcement of the bongo-equipped Donkey Konga, and wondered if Nintendo had any idea of what to do with the Kong family following the recent sale of Rare. As sequels to Mario Kart, Pikmin and Paper Mario were still taking their sweet time, Nintendo began throwing whatever gimmicks they could at their consoles --be they the Game Boy Advance/Gamecube Link Cable, the card-swiping E-Reader, and the Game Boy Player peripheral for the GameCube. None of them caught the public eye, and so it was all the more embarrassing when the GBA/GC cable was front and center at Nintendo's E3 conference accompanying a yawn-inducing reveal: a multiplayer version of the original Pac-Man.
In the midst of it all was an unexpected announcement: the revival of the cancelled Nintendo 64 project, Kirby Air Ride, only this time retooled for the Gamecube. The game's troubled development still remains a mystery: we still don't quite know why the original version--originally named Kirby Bowl 64--was cancelled, much less why it was risen from the grave (our only insight into the game's development rests in a 2003 Nintendo Power interview with the game's producers, which didn't yield any answers). Air Ride's unintuitive control scheme confused journalists attending trade shows, and so the game failed to drum up hype in the face of the highly-anticipated Mario Kart: Double Dash!!. Could the fact that Kirby creator Masahiro Sakurai was at the game's helm as director turn public perception around? Having been behind the mega-hit Super Smash Bros. Melee, it seemed the young developer had nowhere to go up but up within the Nintendo echelon...
...unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be. Shortly after Kirby Air Ride's summer Japanese launch, Sakurai resigned from HAL Laboratories, dealing yet another huge blow to Nintendo. Rumors persisted he not only wasn't satisfied with Kirby Air Ride's development but of structural changes at the company, and his confirmation of being exhausted with sequels in a post-resignation interview is the only shred of evidence for those claims.
Is Wikipedia's uncited claim of his being disappointed with Air Ride development woes correct? Despite the evident use of Kirby Super Star graphical assets in the cancelled version's screenshots, it remains unknown if Sakurai was involved with the N64 game at all. if he truly held a grudge against the game, it's unlikely he would've included overt references to it in Smash Bros. games from Brawl onward. Yet if we disregard its troubled gestation, perhaps the real clue to Air Ride's sloppy, unfocused development lied within the gaming press.
In what remains the most inconsistent review amalgamation I have ever witnessed for a single title, Kirby Air Ride's scores ranged from praise to claims of boredom and dismissal. GameNow and GamePro magazines found themselves surprised at how fun the game's multiplayer turned out, but only after digesting the game's "quirks." Meanwhile, reputable sites including IGN and Gamespot led the charge with shocking 5.0 scores (out of ten), bemoaning the game's emphasis on simplicity and unintuitive controls. Electronic Gaming Monthly even took jabs at the dubious grammatical status of the title, and so Kirby Air Ride appeared destined for the forgotten halls of Nintendo mediocrity...
But that didn't happen. What rendered this inconsistency all the more divisive was the consumer reaction, which consisted of nearly unanimous praise. Despite the infamous control scheme, players found themselves endlessly amused with the flight mechanics and the gorgeous soundtrack. The City Trial mode was a particular anomaly; Nintendo World Report may have found it a missed opportunity, yet it was by far and away the most popular mode of the entire game, some say to the extent where it constituted the entirety of some players' playtime with the game.
In retrospect, I'm not that surprised at this division. Certain Sakurai titles--specifically, Kirby Air Ride and Super Smash Bros. Brawl--are blasted to hell and back for their attempts at deeper mechanics, yet most still sink countless hours into them on a surface level. The basic functions of Sakurai titles click with enough people, and I imagine the supplemented evidence of passion (be it art direction, sound quality or just plain charm) help override any perceived flaws. I also find it rather suspect that several outlets' complaints could've been solved with a quick trip to the options menu.
But what exactly divided critics and players alike on Kirby Air Ride in the first place, and furthermore, is it a good game? Perhaps a conversation with the current CEO of Nintendo can enlighten us...
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In the Iwata Asks column for Kid Icarus: Uprising, Sakurai elaborated to Satoru Iwata on his peculiar game philosophy: disassembly and reassembly. He takes what he perceives to be the "fun" core of a genre, disassembles anything unnecessary, and then rebuilds it from the ground up. For example, beating up someone in a fighting game is fun, right? Yet are the elongated combo maneuvers necessary? Furthermore, what if we could extend that beat-em 'up fun to something of a four-player party game? The end result: Super Smash Bros.
As Kirby Air Ride's a racing game, let's say Sakurai took a look at fellow racer Mario Kart, for example. You maneuver and steer via a control pad/stick, hold down the A button to accelerate, and use the shoulder buttons to drift and break. There are several other buttons dedicated to series mechanics (such as the staple weaponry), but for all intents and purposes, it's intuitive, accurate to driving an actual car, and--most importantly--it works. It's not the world's most popular racing series for nothing.
Kirby Air Ride is...well, saying it's a tad different would be a vast understatement. See, the floating vehicles operated by Kirby and his color-coded doppelgangers--dubbed "stars"--accelerate all on their own without any input from the player. This is entirely due to the game's simplified control scheme: you use the control stick to steer and the A button for everything else. In other words, Kirby Air Ride is a one-button racer where breaking, boosting, swallowing, and utilizing Copy Abilities are shared via the same input.
It goes without saying this is not intuitive in the least, and though I probably couldn't have provided the definition of "acceleration" back at age eleven, it was obvious something was still completely off. My first memory of the game is vital: my friends and I went straight to the City Trial mode for an initial dry run only to be met with confusion. We were thrown into the middle of a city with absolutely zero context (least of all as to why there was a volcano right down the street), fumbling with the controls as we were crashing through trees, pelted by giant meteors, and discovering random underground mazes. We picked up various power-ups and weapons, yet had absolutely no clue how to use them. Then after five minutes, a bell rang, and we're suddenly in a race! One of my friends wins, and suddenly a checklist pops up saying we unlocked a vehicle or something.
Now, we could have just watched the handy tutorial videos, but you know how kids are. In any case, despite the "simplified" controls it's clear how downright relentless Kirby Air Ride is in playing by its rules. But these are rules we've never quite seen before, and I figure most everyone who's played the game went through a similar bout of confusion to the point where Air Ride was dismissed as broken, throwaway nonsense. With game critics having places to be and gamers being a fickle lot, it's little wonder Air Ride was subject to such divisive reception.
...and yet, call it Stockholm Syndrome, but much like the rising damage counter of Smash Bros. or Kid Icarus: Uprising's globe-spinning camera, I have unabashed love for Kirby Air Ride's unorthodox control scheme and cannot imagine it being played any other way. Make no mistake: it is by far the most unintuitive of Sakurai's titles, and to not label it as one of the weirdest Nintendo games ever developed would be doing it a disservice. Yet that it actually works despite its few flub-ups regarding execution deserves genuine praise, for Kirby Air Ride is very much an organic experience.
And what a coincidence: the namesake Air Ride mode is perfect in describing how this quirky racer works. The core racing mode of the game, Air Ride features nine courses and fourteen selectable stars for each Kirby to ride (King Dedede and Meta Knight also attend as unlockables, and respectively race via a Wheelie and wing-powered flight). No matter what vehicle or course you pick, Air Ride's emphasis on charging and boosting--a process Sakurai defines as "Push"--is key. Steering via control stick can only provide so much maneuvering, and so every time your Kirby avatar makes a turn, a well-executed boost is necessary for consistent movement and staying ahead of the competition.
As stated before, opinions will differ on this. Anyone can quickly pick up on Mario Kart's turns and handling, but Air Ride players must consistently depend on muscle memory and on-the-ball thinking in judging when to execute a well-timed turn via charging and boosting. Compounding on this are Air Ride's take on Copy Abilities: familiar enemies litter the courses and possess their typical powers for Kirby to utilize (Fire, Freeze, Bomb, Needle, Wheel, Wing, Tornado, Plasma, Mike, and, of course, Sleep), but their being tied to the brake/boost button can be extraordinarily awkward to adjust to. Say you're charging the Plasma ability via twirling the control stick, but have to make a turn. Regardless of how much plasma you've stocked, you have to release it in order to move on, even if you're not in a prime position to attack. A few others are inputted via spinning (Tornado) or activate automatically in the presence of rivals or enemies (Sword), but most do not, and to repeatedly brake for attacking tends to kill momentum.
It's awkward, it's unintuitive for the sake of being unintuitive, and yet through the same black magic that undoubtedly contributed to Sakurai's eternal youth, Kirby Air Ride's sense of drifting is top-notch. Despite the Copy Ability issue, drifting and boosting on their own works because the Stars are constantly sliding even as you're turning corners. There's no manual acceleration, yet there's a perpetual sense of tight control since navigating the courses requires utmost precision.
Boosting in particular grants a satisfaction unlike any other racing game; of course, the amount of boost power vary from star to star. The Rocket Star sacrifices speed over explosive, while the Swerve Star--my personal favorite--ditches handling for high top speed and precise brakes (that, and the "advanced ancient ruin" design is rad as all hell). I particularly enjoy the boost meter's presentation: it gurgles and replenishes with all the fervor of chugging down your favorite drink, the tasty fluids supercharging your energy. One could be correct in saying that playing Kirby Air Ride is much like ingesting the modern-day ambrosia known as Welch's White Grape Juice.
Beyond boosting, Kirby Air Ride emphasizes, well, the air. Much like recent Mario Karts, the game focuses on gliding rather than full-on flying. The course design reflects this via ramps and cannons and such, and while the design quality might not match Mario Kart's best, but a variety of fun gimmicks render racing a blast. Magical rail grinds and branching paths pepper each course (sometimes even being combined!), and I've always found great joy in the latter by the game encouraging me to repeatedly slam my vehicle into fragile walls.
Obstacle destruction aside, it all melds together to form a racer imbued with fantasy-stylized spectacles within gorgeous locales--and by the way, detailing Kirby Air Ride as "gorgeous" is really underselling its inspired art direction. The full-blown imagination of Kirby Air Ride's aesthetics deserve an in-depth article of their own, but their impact on gameplay is palpable. Storms of aerial grinds into active volcanoes and shortcuts in the form of airborne ferris wheels instill a laid-back catharsis of sorts into the player, and it's why the unlockable course--Nebula Belt--remains the weakest due to reverting to a more standardized, flat course. We can guess this was to emphasize the climatic "skills only" trope found in certain Sakurai titles (ala Super Smash Bros.'s Final Destination stage), but it's a real shame considering its sound (that theme!) and the potential from setting.
The genre-standard Time Trials are available, but of peculiar note are the Free Runs. Instead of being confined to a solitary three-lap for practice, this mode allows you to stick around as long as you please. If I either choose to aim for a best time or lose myself in grind rail surfing, I'm free to do so, but I find myself drifting towards the latter (in a mistake carried on from Smash Bros. Melee, the timer keeps ticking whenever you pause). Regardless, the fact remains that Kirby Air Ride is a satisfying solo racer like no other.
Emphasis on the word "solo". Multiplayer in this mode can provide some entertainment, but it possesses fatal flaws. As a racer first and foremost, Air Ride succeeds in introducing a variety of interesting vehicles for the player to operate, but "interesting" doesn't always translate into "being actually viable." Air Ride becomes so fascinated with emphasizing the gimmicky nature of certain Stars it neglects to properly balance them amid the natural, more well-rounded rounded Stars (such as Warp Star, Wing Star, and Shadow Star).
Take the Rocket Star, for instance. Its function primarily depends on charging for a good while, then unleashing a massive boost. There is an unbridled joy in mastering this vehicle for solo time trials, but it's simply too slow for a genuine race. The Slick Star is too caught up in loose turning, the Turbo Star inexplicably takes forever to charge up at the beginning of race, and the less said about the mess that is the Bulk Star, the happier I'll be.
I obviously don't mean to dismiss the Air Ride mode entirely. As stated before, mastering the world's most unconventional racer via Time Trial and Free Run provides a special--if not depressingly isolated--sort of satisfaction, but the actual races can come across as, well, unfocused, and there's no denying the Copy Abilities can feel at odds with the control scheme. These can be overlooked, but the sad truth remains that only about half--if even that--of the stars are reasonable choices for an actual race.
What is usable can be immensely enjoyable and fulfilling, even taking that in regard and for all my gushing within such confines, it all hinges on whether or not it clicks. For game journalists and a good chunk of the gaming public, it did not. I'm something of a lenient Sakurai fan--I frequently enjoy walk-offs and scrolling stages in Smash Bros. despite their infamous reputation (the former of which continues to confound me) and have no issue with Kid Icarus: Uprising's stylus controls, but even I struggle in defending what's supposed to be designed as the game's core appeal. In that respect, Kirby Air Ride's brand of mediocrity destines it to Nintendo's hallowed abyss of the forgotten...
And therein lies the true genius of Kirby Air Ride's organic constitution.
At first glance, City Trial is something entirely alien to the Kirby realm. It's the closest the series has ever teetered towards such a human-exclusive setting, and yet its entire presentation is fully immersed in surreal abstraction: a city square surrounded by biomes and man-made constructs of all sorts--a forest, a construction yard, a pair of volcanos, beaches, underground mazes, and even a miniature golf course. Absolutely zero context is given to its presentation: we don't know why a bizarrely condensed biosphere has developed on some island in the middle of a valley, let alone why Kirby and his band of doppelgangers flock to it despite the never-ending barrage of natural disasters.
It could be said that its sheer introduction is even more unintuitive than the core Air Mode, and that's why it continues to astound me it's the breakout--and just simply the best--feature of the entire game. What's even more of a miracle is that City Trial is Kirby Air Ride's ticket into the realm of legitimacy--not only in being something incredible, but actually legitimizing it's mistakes.
The mode functions as something of a time-limited massive playground. Players zoom around the city for five minutes (or up to seven, if you fiddle around in the settings), scavenging for randomly spawning Stars of their choice and busting open boxes. These boxes contain your typical multiplayer offerings in weapons and power-ups, but the main goal of gathering "Patches" take priority. By upgrading vehicles through emblems that increase top speed, boost power, offense capabilities and such on, players take their new and improved rides to compete in a random stadium event (or, if adjusted in the options, to a mini-game of the players' choice).
What makes City Trial so successful is that it's a mode that doesn't just emphasize competition; it encourages empowerment. Remember the Rocket Star? When considering its default status, it's not so hot, but now you can improve it to levels beyond viable status. By the end of your duration in City Trial, it's zipping along in the sky, crashing through trees and rock formations at top speed, and charges up into massive, prolonged boosts in no time at all. In other words, City Trial legitimizes what are, quite frankly, terrible stars in the game's core racing mode.
I cannot, for the life of me, think of another game that does this--a game that encourages me to take something fundamentally useless in its starring mode and beef it up. It's now possible for the Rocket Star to win actual races, and not only does it feel wonderful, but it feels earned. I'm not just slapping on a new part in some shoddy customization menu; I'm meticulously scavenging across the city, gradually revamping the vehicle to my liking.
And it's not alone: no longer is the Slick Star impossible to control, nor does Turbo Star have to deal with inane charging times. As much as I typically go for the Swerve and Shadow Stars, sometimes I lead myself astray into that special joy of upgrading those two stars into legitimate status. Oh, sure, it's a challenge taking hold of the reigns, but it's a fun challenge. Even the Bulk Star...well, nothing can save the Bulk Star, but I guess they can't all be winners.
Even outside of this game-changing revelation, City Trial isa wonderful enigma in itself. The concept of gradually empowerment through smashing the shit out of boxes lends itself a fulfilling multiplayer addiction (and one that clearly held merit, as Sakurai revisited the idea in Super Smash Bros. for 3DS), but the process is so inspired, begs every ounce of the player's curiosity that their acting on it is rewarded in spades. It's all thanks to the aforementioned bizarre setting, which demands immediate attention in exploring every nook and cranny. Underground mazes and shortcut grind rails permeate the entire city, numerous ramps serving as springboards for gliding and as entryways into aforementioned mazes, and plenty of stuff--trees, giant coral, and junkyard structures--to wreck and crash into. Don't feel too bad about that; in fact, the game encourages and rewards you for clearing the forest and bullying Whispy Woods.
Implemented within the context of multiplayer, it's amazing how City Trial emphasizes isolation from other players and still succeeds as a shared interactive experience. Granted, the mode provides more than enough deadly toys to ruin someone's upgraded star (my personal favorite being the hilariously massive Gordos), but it's not uncommon for players to just disperse across the city and be left to their own devices. In that sense, it could be said City Trial's main appeal is akin the quote "the adventure being the reward", yet I still find joy in proving my vehicle's worth in the Stadium Events ...and occasionally switching gears by beaning someone with a Gordo.
My gosh, I can't stop gushing about this city. Did I mention the events? The events of which involve giant meteors plowing into the city and Dynablade wrecking shit? The easter eggs and pointless interactions just for the sake of easter eggs and pointless interactions (how many pink flowers can you find?). That it's the first and only time Kirby is running around in a full 3D environment? It's nothing more than a necessary novelty (to switch between vehicles, Kirby has to hop off), but did the gravity of that trip anyone else up? HAL Laboratory remains content dwelling within the confines of 2D space, yet for the sole purpose of a two second process, the world's expanses are suddenly open to the pink puffball. Even if he's just limited to a neutered float jump (ala Smash Bros.), many an hour was spent in the mode's Free Run exploring the city sans vehicle.
I wonder if that'd hold the same appeal as an adult.
Ah, forgive me, I haven't even discussed the game's music yet! And what perfect timing: City Trial's score is just as lopsided as the game itself. Not necessarily in song execution, mind you, but rather it's method of selection.
This is not to dismiss the mode's main theme, mind. The perfect combination of inspired mystery and urgency, it correctly functions as a grand panorama for this offbeat city (whatever instrument's playing at 1:02 always takes my breath away). But it and the alternate Backside track are unique, for there's something else at work for the mode's Events and Stadium Matches.
Ah, just listen to how the radio show-inspired beginning transitions into a Disney-esque expression of flight. But...wait a minute, this wasn't composed by the game's sound team! In fact, most of the tracks for City Trial aren't. Indeed, the mode's songs are ripped straight from from the Japanese Kirby of the Stars anime adaption. Composed by one Akira Miyagawa, a total of at least fourteen tracks play not just throughout the mode, but occasionally pop up in other facets of Air Ride as well.
This begs the question: do these serve as a loving nod to the show's incoming conclusion, or just come across as phoned-in laziness? Well, that might depend on where you live. Us foreign players are placed in a peculiar situation with these songs, as 4Kids Entertainment's English dub of the show happened to erase the original Japanese score in favor for in-house works.
Now, I could elaborate on the particular fuck-ups behind that decision, but that's not important. What is important is that holy crap, these songs fit like a glove. I'm serious, just listen to the above selection for the Falling Meteor event and tell me that doesn't perfectly convey tongue-in-cheek pandemonium. Much like the Gordos, the flaming meteors themselves are inflated to the point of absurdity, yet this theme is what truly drives the hilarity levels home. It's truly something that has to be witnessed.
Here's a example better suited for written context, in which the above Castle Lololo arrangement plays for whenever Dyna Blade flies in to wreak havoc. The song's always held an antagonistic tone, but it's cranked up to the max here as the sky turns blood red for the arrival of the rainbow-colored beast. It works quite well (and clearly HAL liked it too, as it was used once more for the actual Dynablade fight in Kirby Super Star's DS remake).
Hell, it even works within the chaos of City Trial's lack of context. There's one event where nightfall hits the city, signalling the activation of the wharf's lighthouse. What it doesn't tell you is that its mysterious light heals any injured Stars, and while that can be quickly discovered when investigating the area, one really does wonder why the alert just jubilantly exclaims "the city's lighthouse has turned on!" all the while the charmingly idyllic tones of Cappy Town's morning-time antics flutter about without a care in the world. Note also the song's title, of which I've always pronounced in the form of a grim movie trailer VO ("The City Lighthouse....Burns").
But wait, did I just describe the one flaw of City Trial? Indeed, there are a couple of events that don't survive the mode's absence of context, including the aforementioned lighthouse scenario and a mysterious fleet of Stars that float majestically in the city skies every now and then. While they possess purpose, their non-consequential effects elicit the most awkward of shrugs. We can be excited or driven away by fear from meteor strikes, fog, and rail station fires, but a lighthouse is a lighthouse no matter how amazing its accompanying score is.
However, a mode that excels this well despite a stumbled introduction deserves nothing but the utmost of praise. It's a wonderful piece of enigmatic game design that continues to captivate me to this very day, and in that I confidently state City Trial is not just one of the greatest multiplayer experiences on the Gamecube, but may very well be up there with Nintendo's best in history.
With its success being so great--to the extent of it rendering the mistakes of the main racing moot---Kirby Air Ride is granted another chance, another fresh outlook. But what ultimately sells the rest of the game to the player? The answer lies in the birth of a new Sakurai trope: checklists. Yes, checklists. Complementing the game's three modes are 360 different objectives, with 120 for each one. Be it time trials, mastering specific vehicles, or just breaking the shit out of stuff in City Trial, Kirby Air Ride rewards the player with green-flavored bragging rights or red-tinted goodies.
What renders this so successful is that it permeates the entire game. It's thoroughly organic, as just fooling around in any mode can yield from anything to the simplest of achievements to unlocking Kirby color alts, music tracks, and even a hidden character or vehicle or the like. With just how unintuitive the game is in general, Sakurai and co. no doubt realized there needed to be a compelling incentive for the player to devote their full investment, and seeing as how it's featured in nearly every game of his since, it obviously worked.
Just take the RC-inspired Top Ride, for instance. Its top-down perspective quirkiness--complete with awkward inverted handling--would normally have been tossed aside in favor of Air Ride's more eye-catching modes. But now with the prize-dangling checklist in hand, we have no choice but to engage in the mode, and we discover that the mode is actually wonderfully chaotic. You know how Baby Park in Mario Kart: Double Dash!! was the most exciting course in that game despite its simplistic, oval appearance? It's the same deal here, only instead expanded upon via constant sharp turns, interactive hazards, and a never-ending barrage of dizzying weaponry.
Even setting the checklist aside, I'm still sucked into how Top Ride fulfills the Smash-esque "just one more" cravings. These compact, bite-sized races call for close-quarters battering through explosions, fire, and gyration, all immensely satisfying and requiring the sharpest quick-on-the-draw senses players can muster. With how best courses (Sky and Metal) taking interactive advantage of Air Ride's one-button control scheme (be it the former's buttons and ramps or the latter's course-shifting machinery), I'm always coming back for more. In that sense, I suppose the mode functions as a bridge between the other two--need a break from City Trial? Settle for some quickfire Top Ride chaos.
And the checklist magic even works on the Air Ride mode. The main racing component is still a bust, but it's that checklist-inspired hook that compels me to better myself in solo. The unlockable gorgeous song arrangements and hidden characters are temporarily forgotten as I'm shaving off record after record in Time Trials, shifting between Star after Star as I strive to improve myself, gliding and grinding and soaring.
But most of all, what's more gratifying than the checklist accomplishments and time trials and Top Ride chaos is the game's possession of something truly precious. The obvious cue would be pointing out the game's stellar soundtrack, yet I've come to realize just how little praise has greeted the game's aesthetics. It's a damn shame Kirby Air Ride's erratic reception has no doubt muffled this, and that no doubt renders my opinion all the more shocking: Kirby Air Ride features one of the most striking, wondrous, downright best art styles featured in any Nintendo game.
Up to this point, Kirby aesthetics have generally drifted between nostalgia echoing baby's blanket prints and glistening fantasy found only in one's dreams, but Air Ride bursts with such imagination that it's hard to peg it down to a specific style. The fantasy tropes are still present, yet Kirby Air Ride thrives on galvanized juxtaposition-- it lifts and blends from everything to light-hearted and medieval fantasy, touches of sci-fi, and some of the most breathtaking examples of surrealism. It shifts and mixes on a dime on such an inspired level that I daresay, on an artistic level, it's Kirby at its most ambitious.
The first two Air Ride courses--Fantasy Meadows and Celestial Valley--represent the purest of outdoors high fantasy. The former provides a gorgeous backdrop complete with physically-manifested wind currents and looming planetoid, but it doesn't forget to segue its imagination into the actual track, as the players race up to an entirely flora-constructed windmill, of which leads into an illuminated underground passage. And the nightfall expanses of Celestial Valley beg to be explored, what with signs of excavation and fossil-embedded walls as pairs of hungry eyes watch racers from cracked eggshells. Just look at these.
And the music! They're accompanied by such sweeping orchestral scores, particularly in the case of Fantasy Meadows, which perfectly represents the beginning of a grand fantasy: small beginnings, with inklings of a grand adventure just waiting to unfold. Meanwhile, the melancholic windy whistles of Celestial Valley are offset by a rushing chase that no doubt echo the course's water rapids. These two songs compel me to thoroughly demand similar usage of their ilk outside of a racing environment, and I continue to be stunned at how they were practically made for an adventure.
And as the ice course, Frozen Hillside isn't satisfied with being a winter wonderland (although its wonderful song presented above might convince you otherwise). It's aerial setting--complete with rails, wind-propelling arches, and rattling bridges--presents a panoramic view of the area, featuring a white-green colored landscape and fantasy-esque constructs we never learn the context of, leaving our minds to fill in the blanks. Our only hint lies in the appearance of one majestic flying whale, the product of the game artist's desire to combine unorthodox elements (in this case, a fantasy wintry tundra and a floating marine lifeform). The end result lets our imaginations soar.
I could justsit here and rave about how aesthetic and music work together in Kirby Air Ride to create a living, breathing fantasy world just outside our reach--just barely outside the realm of context--and it's excruciating, yet downright delicious bait that prods at me every time I race within their worlds. The lava and stone dragons that dwell within the downright-frightening hellfire of Magma Flows (as shown above, note how it combines cinematic fantasy and xylophones complete with a brief cameo from Kirby Super Star's Gourmet Race theme), the flora-carnival heights of Beanstalk Park as its accompanying track gradually builds into aerial splendor, the backwards alien world just outside Machine Passage's dark halls of fast-paced techno and chorus...
Even Top Ride prods at the mind! True to their source of inspiration, the Top Ride courses are veritable top-down recreations of RC car tracks, although adapted to designs of sheer fantasy akin to Fantasy Meadows and Celestial Valley. Much as I adore Grass's country setting and Water's valley waterfalls, Sky is the clear winner. Kirby Air Ride is, after all, a racer emphasizing the air, and I can't help but be charmed by this course's ancient cubic structures and quaint, chess-inspired racing grounds. As expected from its compact origins, it's a far softer aesthetic than the ambitions of the main Air Ride mode, but one that captures my imagination with help from its carousel-esque song track. I'd love to see what lies within the landmasses below.
Again, Kirby has always been enveloped within fantasy, but the games have always stuck to one cohesive theme. And even then they'd never so much as dreamt as plunging so deep into the realms of fantasy, having been so content with sugary-sweet, heart-swelling nostalgia. Of course, not that there's anything wrong with that, but I'm just so taken with this direction into the fusion of artistic motifs. It forces me to dream, compels me to theorize on what lies beyond the race tracks, and I thoroughly demand to see it explored outside the confines of a racing title.
As stated earlier, it's a subject that demands an article of its own, but until that day arrives, I'll conclude with Air Ride's greatest success in the aesthetic department: the masterpiece of juxtaposition that is Checker Knights. Similar to Top Ride's Sky, it emphasizes floating geometric/cubic landmasses and constructs, only this time in the middle of a lake. It's fantasy, but not outright Fantasy Meadows/Celestial Valley fantasy. The backgrounds hint at something of a middle ground behind that and the typical Kirby aesthetic: it's bouncier and more familiar, but is more inspired via abstraction (ala City Trial). From here, the course's theme is apparently set...
Then you railgrind into the lake depths.
Underneath the lake hosting a cubic racing course lies an underwater city. It's not the ancient city of Atlantis, nor a coral-filled city housing merfolk.The complete details are too far to fully make out, but the abundance of neon lights prove that it's not only not the outright abstraction City Trial is, but that it's a living, breathing modern city.
By itself, such a city would have no place within Kirby's realm. The faint traces of smog and the night-time noire would be repulsive enough, and yet I am downright stunned in its symmetry with what lies above the city's waters. We could just chalk it up to the oversized jellybean-esque bubble floating about, but just its mere presence hidden under the surface of a jovial world elicits the most intense curiosity and wonder. I can't think of anything like it, and yet Kirby Air Ride pulls it off as if it's as easy as breathing.
I mentioned earlier how Kirby Air Ride's aesthetic induces a sort of catharsis into the player, of which is no small part due to the game's aerial nature. Every time I play, I'm not just enjoying the game: I'm dreaming. I wonder what's staring at me from Celestial Valley's eggs, I ponder what goes down on the surface of Sky, and most of all, what the aquatic denizens of Checker Knight's underwater city are up to these days. I could just be speaking as the most desperate of Air Ride apologists, but I find the game's dual-layer of chaos and dreams to be no joke.
Indeed, Kirby Air Ride is not a masterpiece, but I imagine it could be one had the core racing been further polished. As it stands, it's a quirky, quirky game born from the most unintuitive of premises--premises that shouldn't by any means actually work, and yet for the most part, actually do. That it not only actually succeeds in doing so, but in that it reaches peripheral ambitions so high within a genre so centered around competition renders it one of my dearest Nintendo treasures.
Origin: Super Smash Bros. Melee Plays In: Trophy Lottery/Mini-game/Trophy Event Matches Status: Original Composition Composers: Hirokazu Ando, Shogo Sakai, Tadashi Ikagami
Hey, what can I say? I've been in Smash euphoria all month.
So why this song? Turns out, it's one of the selectable menu themes in the My Music feature for Super Smash Bros. for Wii U! Much of my Smash Bros. Brawl playtime was actually spent tinkering with the music ratio in My Music, and from the two examples we've witnessed in the recent Direct (Battlefield and the Menu...there's also Skyloft, but my anti-Skyward Sword bias refuses to acknowledge it), I'm already planning the high-low ratios for both selections.
I'm not quite sure where to place this song, though. Describing my meticulous arrangement with My Music could take quite some time, so here's a general idea: a stage's "main" theme will typically rank the highest while the most dynamic or dissonant tracks are set quite low, and the rest of the songs are balanced from there. As an example, take Distant Planet from Pikmin: the ripped Main Theme from that game is set alongside the Forest of Hope and World Map among the highest, while the quirky Environmental Noises only has a silver of a chance at playing. While I've picked the first three as the representative songs for Distant Planet, this sets the shock for the rare occasion Environmental Noises--a calming menagerie of the sounds of nature--decides to present itself.
For the Wii U game's menu, it's less clear-cut. The main menu theme will be the highest, no doubt, but what about the rest? We have the stellar Menu 2 from Melee, as well as the menu themes from that game and Brawl. As the menu theme pervades the entire title, I believe the game will be at its freshest with that song at the forefront, but I think turning those three songs on could serve as fun nostalgic throwbacks. Menu 2 will likely be set to halfway, while the Melee/Brawl themes will serve as occasional cameos.
And then there's this song. By far one of my favorite tracks from Melee, it's a stellar representation of Nintendo memory lane. I can see it now: me combing through the game's trophy descriptions for hours on end, browsing the fan sites of old (Nintendo Land and Nintendo Database ring any bells?), learning about the fabled legacy of my favorite company...it's a long-gone era, but the Trophy theme brings just a twinge of tumbling through the internet's recesses again.
Having not played Super Smash Bros. Melee in quite some time, it's rather heartwarming knowing I'll be getting acquainted with this song again! It's an oddball choice for the menu that I'm sure will raise eyebrows from my college hallmates, but I dearly look forward to it's return.
...even if I haven't figured out it's play frequency. I'll work it out, I promise!
Final Thoughts: Oh, by the way, I'm quite fond of the orchestral arrangement found in the Original Medley's midpoint from the Smashing...Live! concert. Have a listen!
Now here's something new. As one of those charmed by the silly Nintendo Direct for the game ("THIS. IS. TOMO. DACHI. LIFE."), I knew Tomodachi Life would be right up my alley...and I was right! I was hooked for at least a month and a half, and I ain't done yet. Just like Animal Crossing: New Leaf, I'm still checking in on the hijinks of my island residents.
It's a shame we never did get the original title, yet I can't help but wonder how limited in scope and features it is compared to this iteration...? I suppose I'll find out one day, but for now, I'm plenty satisfied with watching my Mii idly scratching his butt.
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Sorry guys, no Biweekly Music Wednesday! today; too much college work. Check back next week!
I never did end up writing a Symphony of the Goddesses review due to personal drama on my end, so writing one for Symphonic Evolutions was a real treat.
I don't want to spoil too much of my impressions, but if you've followed the blog long enough, I'm sure you know which suite was my favorite. All I'll say is that they could not have chosen a better song to express the mystery and adventure of a certain region, and I still get goosebumps from the Youtube recordings.
For those behind the Nintendo-approved Symphonies and Nintendo itself....please consider a Smash Bros. Symphony! Please!
Around the blog's inception, I cited the manga One Piece as something I'd potentially discuss whenever I felt the need to go off-topic. I guess that time is now.
In my nine or ten or so years of reading manga, I cannot think of one I have loved and been more loyal to more than One Piece. I've had falling-outs with Dragon Ball and I've long since relinquished my fan-status for Bleach and Naruto, yet One Piece continues to capture my heart week after week, month after month, year after year. It's the best sort of fantasy adventure story, where the ambitious setting provides the perfect "the sky's the limit" levels of imagination and comedy, with a pitch-perfect blend of profound themes involving tragic heartbreak and the limitless, inspiring potential of people's dreams. For seven years, I've laughed, I've cried, I've cheered, and I'll continue to do so until the end of its run.
I've dabbled into the video games as well, and I suppose they were pretty good. The Pirate Warriors games were some fun timewasters--if not uninspired and more than a little deranged in their story execution--and I found some joy in Unlimited Adventure for the Wii. Yes, it's undeniably low-budget and tends to be repetitive for the sake of being repetitive, but golly, I was just adventuring in a One Piece game! And the score sounds just like the anime! And it's the dub cast from the Funimation dub! And the combat actually felt great! The flaws stuck out like a sore thumb every time I played, but I didn't care because it was frickin' One Piece.
If only I held the same enthusiasm for Unlimited World Red on the PlayStation 3. It's funny how I can readily admit Unlimited Adventure wasn't that great and I've never played the (apparently superior) Unlimited Cruise sequels, yet the sharp decline in quality was still evident. I still can't get over the enforced linearity, which cranks the repetition up to maximum bear in mind, I don't have a problem with linearity in itself, but that was one of the few great features of the previous iterations! Why downplay on it?!? Agh!
I could elaborate on my other disappointments, be they the reduced usefulness of unique character abilities or the boring music score, but then there'd be no point in linking to the review. Give it a read if you haven't, why don't you?
Random choice, you say? Thankfully, Gaming Grunts allows games new and old for review, and so I figured why not a title I've been revisiting lately?
WarioWare, Inc., Mega MicroGame$! is still, to date, one of the addictive and funniest games I've ever played. For the former, it all has to do with its ingenious concept of relentlessly chucking five-second "microgames" at the player. The more you clear, the faster and sillier they become to the point where microgames last only 1/3 of a second while the music and sound effects becomes ridiculously sped-up.
But my identification with its humor is why I cherished it so much. Absurdist, off-the-wall humor was my brand of comedy as a child--not exactly common among my peers, you understand--and I was astounded at how this game was proof the geniuses at Nintendo possessed the same exact humor as I did. Everything from the face-sprouting potatos to "YAAAAAaaaaaAAAAA!!!" of a falling nail and to how one microgame literally just has you picking some guy's nail never ceased to induce smiles and laughter.
Heck, I'm still laughing as I play it today. The contrast between the no-nonsense Haru-Natsu-Aki-Fuyu song--Japanese lyrics and all--and the absurd nature-themed microgames of Kat and Ana is absolutely hilarious, and I'll never get tired of how the final boss of the game is just a square with eyes. It's a game I'm dying to write about on here, and I'd like to think it'll be a special review.
If there's any series I miss from my youth, it's this. Bring back WarioWare to its roots, Nintendo!
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I actually totally forgot to mention my Gaming Grunts reviews on here! College life does something to ya, heh. Thankfully, I only have two more articles left so I'll be introducing them tomorrow.
Poor The Wonderful 101. Despite the highly-acclaimed resume behind director Hideki Kamiya (Viewtiful Joe, Bayonetta, Okami), his Nintendo-funded debut title on the Wii U never stood a chance with both retail and public perception alike. While the former was no surprise given the relative obscurity of developer Platinum Games (not to mention Nintendo's horrendous marketing), the game's overt complexity blindsided potential buyers and fans alike, and the gaming world at large still doesn't know what to make of it...or worse, has already forgotten it.
As a fan of the game, I can readily admit Wonderful 101's flaw lies in its inability to explain what the hell is going on. I still can't wrap my head around how vital defensive maneuvers are left unlocked in the game's the shop, and it's further compounded with frustrating, inexplicable gameplay flub-ups like how your Wonderful One leaders can randomly switch or why your whole group isn't piling together into a designated spot (did any of that make sense? haha). It's a real shame the game is so daunting, particularly when you consider how the aforementioned Bayonetta/Viewtiful Joe had quick, interactive tutorials and the same wasn't applied here. The forced gimmicky interludes involving shmups and the like also do it no favors (granted, I do like a couple of 'em, but they tend to mess with the overall pacing).
And yet, I still love it. How could I not? The game's so obviously made with love, going the extra mile with the super-fun "Saturday morning cartoon" being propelled by its Platinum-brand of epicness. Kamiya was correct in the Iwata Asks column for the game in how the first playthrough is much like the tutorial, and now I'm able to play through normal difficulty without much issue (excluding some of the latter enemies, yowch!). I'm still not the best at stringing together combos, but I can still manage to earn a Platinum trophy (as opposed to my former collection of consolation prizes and bronze statues).
Maybe this is a little selfish, but I take obscurity as something of a special treasure. While it was undeniably frustrating how Nintendo marketed The Wonderful 101, it's safe to assume it never would've done that well. But in the end, we got what was most important: an amazing game to play. I can still laugh at the hilarious script, get pumped-up from the heart-pumping soundtrack, and further improve myself in the satisfyingly deep combo system. With the sheer amount of unlockable characters and lore peppered across the levels, I don't think I'll be done anytime soon.
As Kamiya said on Twitter: stop worrying about scores and sales and play the damn game!
By the way, I used to play this and Pikmin 3 every weekend, yet have recently taken a break...I should get back into that groove.
Origin: Super Smash Bros. for 3DS and Wii U Plays In: The Menu and Smash Run. Status: Arrangement (the main theme for the games) Arranger: Junichi Nakatsuru
A new Super Smash Bros. game is being held in my hands.
It's unbelievable. I remember once fully believing--at a time where I was undoubtedly too naive--that Brawl was the finale for our beloved Nintendo crossover, and here we are with two versionscoming out in the same season. Isn't that crazy? The 3DS version has been released for nearly a week (and, provided you had access to the Japanese release, almost a month), and the Wii U sibling will release first on our shores this November. My dreams of Animal Crossing's Villager, Punch-Out's Little Mac, and Mega Man joining the battle have all come true alongside Sakurai-esque surprises in the form of the freaking dog from Duck Hunt and the entire Koopaling family all stuck into one swiss army-equipped Junior Clown Car. Amazing.
And that theme. Why must every Smash theme be so godly? Truth be told, I wasn't so convinced by it at its E3 2013 debut; granted, that particular version isn't present in the final version (or in the 3DS version, at least), but the instrumentation was so weak and just so...off that it was hard to get excited by it. The closet sense of excitement I could derive from it was listening to this fan-made piano arrangement--which elicited a classic Melee-esque vibe--and I found that more than a little...well, sad. After the stunning glory that was the Brawl orchestra, could this dingy little tune really have what it took to set the pregame atmosphere for the upcoming Smash?
I guess I knew it was only just for the initial trailer, so I held out hope. And it delivered: not only did the arrangements found in this April's Nintendo Direct manage to hype me, but the final version blasting from the E3 footage successfully won me over. Unlike Melee's classicism and Brawl's orchestras, Smash for 3DS and Wii U goes for pregame Monday Night Football, right down to the revving guitar. Every time I hear it, I'm just so pumped to try out everyone in this glorious cast of all-stars.
And just like Brawl, the theme's peppered throughout the game via numerous arrangements. Many fans aren't so happy with this direction, but I don't really mind since this new theme is so goddamn good. Yes, it does mean we miss out on unique themes like Melee's Menu 2 and Trophy theme, yet at the same time every arrangement is such a fresh--even occasionally downright beautiful--take on the song that they lend the game even more character. Katsuro Tajima's Trophy Rush is a wonderful cacophony of fast-paced action, Yoshinori Hirai's Gallery/Hoard is a prestigious little blend of march and techno, Torine's piano rendition of the Classic: Final Results screen is both gorgeous and reflective, and let's not forget Taku Inoue's chiptune StreetSmash!
I'm just so happy, you know? Six years ago, when the toxicity pervaded the fanbase following Brawl's release, I never dreamed another Smash would arrive to placate my sadness...and yet here we are, ready to relish in another era of Smash Bros. The fun's only just begun with the 3DS version, and I know that when the Wii U version launches, this song will be there with me when I'm ready to jump into the floating temples and mountain crags of Battlefield and beyond.
Let's settle it in Smash! Final Thoughts: WHY ARE YOU STILL READING THIS GO PLAY SMASH
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