8-Bit Chronicles: Bubble Bobble (Hey Poor Player)

Article Here

Annnd a four.

Sorry for the delay; think of it as me finally awakening from my "AIIIIEEEEE BANJO'S IN SMASH!!!" stupor. Expect a Super Mario Maker 2 blowout soon!

Kirby and the Rainbow Curse

Ah, now there's the smile we know and love! As expected, Kirby's preciousness shines especially well through clay, and there is perhaps no better representative to bear it than Kirby and the Rainbow Curse: a claymation-based title matched only by Kirby's Epic Yarn in sheer cuteness. Even now, we must continue cherishing this pure countenance, for it is the last time Kirby bared this visage for an international audience.

Anywho, Kirby and the Rainbow Curse is not only the one Wii U Kirby game, but is a sequel to 2005's Kirby: Canvas Curse, the one series entry notable for captivating non-fans. Hailed as Nintendo's first truly original concept for Nintendo DS, Canvas Curse remains the handheld's hallmark for touchscreen play: drawing rainbow strokes for Kirby to coast along played unlike anything else in the market, and combined with a techno soundtrack and mish-mash of abstract aesthetics so alien to Kirby, it's little wonder it succeeded as it did.

Wordly Weekend: Mega Man (NES)

I'm sorry, I know the hilarious travesty of Mega Man's American box art is probably the most infamous example of packaging in video game history, but Leave Luck to Heaven represents games with NA covers whenever possible, right down to the "Angry Kirby" nonsense. Even so, just look at the contemptible thing: the indistinguishable geography, the structural disaster that is the building on the left (what's with the stairs? The random stone well?), and last but certainly not least, the mess of proportions, colors and physicality that is Mega Man himself. It's the prime example of 80's game boxarts attempting to make their respective games look way more badass than they actually were, and with how Mega Man underperformed in sales, it backfired miserably here. For shame, Capcom!

Not that Japan wasn't guilty of the same practice, you understand, but its respective cover for Mega Man--I'm sorry, Rock Man--was far more in-line with the game's aesthetic: the plush, wide-eyed animation style commonly found in 80's anime. It's clear from the very moment one lays eyes on the select screen line-up of Robot Masters that this isn't a game meant to channel any sort of realism, but the more light-hearted antics of Super Mario Bros. and Pac-Man.

Could it also be said that Mega Man matches the quality of those classics? Capcom's Mega Man games are only challenged by Konami's Castlevania in how they are the most celebrated NES action titles not associated with the Nintendo name, and that's being fairly generous considering Mega Man himself is a more recognizable 8-bit icon than Simon Belmont, what with his blinking doe eyes and squat one-inch stature. Yes, they are classics, although to what extent is debatable considering how much Capcom unabashedly milked the games (of the original series' ten entries, six are on NES).

Many agree the first three are the cream of the NES crop, and I'm included in their ranks. It's funny how all six games are homogenized around the same gameplay and aesthetics, yet it's those first three games that stick in everyone's memory. In this sense, the original we're reviewing today is a curious delight -- to my mind, it doesn't reach the heights of Mega Man 2 (the series masterpiece) or Mega Man 3 (the runner-up), yet it's such a genuinely strong first effort that I consider it a near-crime the former overshadowed its place in gaming history.

Forging the design that would soldier on in countless sequels and spin-offs, Mega Man revolves around six levels that culminate into their respective "Robot Master" bosses. Each is defined by a singular trait (Fire Man, for example, wielding the power of, well, fire) that also houses a weakness. as defeating any one Robot Master absorbs their power into Mega Man's own (which lets player experiment with Robot Master weaknesses). Each Robot Master can be tackled in any order, and once all are defeated, you head to the castle of dastardly Dr. Wily to halt his evil schemes.

Needless to say, it's a non-linear action take on rock-paper-scissors. As opposed to the physics-bound goofiness of Super Mario Bros., Mega Man relies on a level of strategy and planning not commonly found in action platformers. While thankfully this doesn't seep into the actual gameplay, it allows for nearly every run as divergent as you want it to be; for instance, do you proceed in the order of Robot Master weaknesses, or just go about any which route you wish?

As mentioned earlier, this level progression system hardly renders the original unique in retrospect, but its superiority lies in that very same retrospection. Yes, it lacks the fanciful features including Rush the robot dog and the Mega Buster and the like, but that it's forged only around three mechanics --Mega Man's arm cannon, the Robot Master abilities and good ol' fashioned jumping--ensures it's not bloated with unnecessarily flashy features, instead relying on pure grit to overcome its trials.

Which means that as fun as it is shoot things, it's also undeniably difficult. Like any other 8-bit action game, Mega Man is actively punishing in its damage-sponge robots, leaps of faith, touch of death hazards (watch out for spikes!) and grueling boss patterns. The Robot Masters in particular give Super Mario Bros. games a run for their money in that their toughness matches the rest of the level, and even memorizing their attack patterns and weaknesses won't ensure you'll make it out alive (as seen with the countless close shaves endured with Ice Man).

Could it perhaps be too difficult? Some Robot Master weaknesses aren't very apparent, so the game has to rely on certain context clues within the levels; for example, Cut Man is weak to Guts Man's Super Arm, used to pick up heavy blocks littered across the former's stage and boss room. There is some decent balance across the board, my favorite example being how anyone can memorize Ice Man's disappearing rock platforms with some careful observation.

It falls apart in other places; the game's non-linearity comes to a halt with Elec Man, who hides the vital Magnet Beam necessary for Wily's Castle. This tool can only be uncovered with the aforementioned Super Arm, and this only becomes apparent more than halfway through the level. Mega Man simply isn't the game for this kind of foreshadowing, and with the Magnet Beam being the only way to fully circumvent certain obstacles (such as Ice Man's flying Foot Holders, which by themselves are a tad too random in their placement and tend to frustrate with their mid-air laser blasting), it's a problem.

By and large though, there's hardly any missteps in foe placement and the like; in fact, the game takes steps for the player to navigate around the stage's intricacies. Take the spiky Gabyoalls (try saying that three times fast!), which patrol about on platforms and attempt to shove off Mega Man when he intrudes upon their territory. They rank among the game's most annoying enemies, but they're momentarily paralyzed by a single shot, so they're easily neutralized.

And if you have the Rolling Cutter, all the better: they're destroyed immediately. The fun of Mega Man lies in its replayability and figuring out how the game works. While the Elec Man/Magnet Beam thing limits the potential for experimentation, it's impressive how many quirks and enemy weaknesses can be perceived and utilized through the Robot Master powers. This is further perfected in Mega Man 2 and 3, but that the first title can be this experimental in spite of its flaws is worth noting.

All the better that it's so pleasing to look at. As mentioned previously, the graphics are overtly clean with a bright aesthetic. It's as much of a sci-fi adventure as it is the home of a Saturday Morning Cartoon; not too goofy, but with enough light-heartedness to win anyone over with the likes of beady-eyed blue robots and flying robot penguins.

Hammering this balance down is the wondrous music by Manami Matsumae, which is the perfect complement for such a world. Level themes dip into either motif in accordance to not merely the Robot Masters involved, but the overall motif for their respective stages. With the Cut Man Stage often being the first stage players tackle, it's only natural its theme would thrust us into action. Like the majority of the soundtrack, it's 8-bit catchiness at its finest.

On the other side of the spectrum lies the Elec Man Stage music. Apparently designed with electricity in mind, it's another song that accompanies not the character, but of the level itself. The stage is constructed vertically, with tricky ladders, vigilant Gabyoalls and electric currents seeking to knock you down. The ensuing frustration is only natural, so an upbeat theme is necessary for encouragement.

None of which we find in Wily's Castle. For the record, this is not the beloved action masterpiece found in Mega Man 2, and yet I consider this a distinctive runner-up. Ominous and foreboding, it compels us further down Wily's lair and overcome his traps one by one. Only the Guts Man Stage rivals this theme in their apprehension, which are executed not with darkness but a building degree of menace.

Any and all praising of Mega Man's sound design typically revolves around the music--and deservedly so!--but there is one sound effect I must elaborate upon. Every time Mega Man lands after jumping, a distinguished "plink!" noise always greets his impact. It is absolutely, unabashedly sci-fi; the one detail that defines Mega Man's character as a robot. That we, as the players, are the ones initiating the sound further links us into the game, and furthermore its world. Being a recurring theme throughout the series, I can't help but imagine it as the primary source of Mega Man nostalgia.

Mega Man is not a clumsy, forgotten progenitor, but is instead the treasured 8-bit example of how to initiate a long-running series. It stumbles into traps common of the era, but they're never anything fatal; not anything to the extent of how Capcom dragged the series into tedium, anyway. It's an overtly-solid action game that entertains with its creative non-linearity and thrills with its engaging Wily Castle set pieces/big boss sequences, all foreshadowing what was to come with its famous sequel.

Ten Years of Kirby ~Reverie 13~ Kirby Super Star Ultra

2008, otherwise known as the absolute worst time to be a Nintendo fan. The honeymoon period with the Wii had long since evaporated, fans already grown tired of motion controls and not at all accepting of Nintendo's "casual" focus. Third-parties, shell-shocked by the Wii's overnight success, quickly pumped out low budget mini-game collections and Wii Sports knock-offs. Dozens upon dozens of these cash-ins overflowed Wii store shelves, and were soon granted the not-too-kind, but all-too-fitting name of "shovelware".

Consequently, 2008 brought with it insanely-high expectations. Nintendo's overall scheduling looked bleak, but the hype for Sakurai's latest, Super Smash Bros. Brawl, had reached stratospheric levels. For the majority of 2007, the former Kirby director maintained the Smash Bros. DOJO!!, a daily blog dedicated to trickling out tantalizing info about the upcoming sequel to the insanely popular Melee. It proved to be the one of the most successful marketing campaigns in gaming history, sparking massive discussion threads, in-depth analyses and character wishlists across message boards and gaming outlets everywhere. After two painful delays, the beloved Nintendo crossover was set to embrace us in euphoric, nostalgic bliss...

But it was not to be, as the arrival of Brawl brought about the biggest fandom split in Nintendo history. Competitive Smash players who participated in Melee tournaments bemoaned the absence of advanced mechanics, and proceeded to vilify the game (and, in many instances, those who played it) with a vengeance not seen since the cel-shaded unveil of Zelda: The Wind Waker. Those who only played Smash as a party game and were completely alien to concepts like wavedashing were torn: did they defend the game on its own non-competitive merits, or did they contribute to the noise by complaining about those very elements?

Super Smash Bros., once a franchise wholly synonymous with the words "party," "nostalgia," and "celebration" was now tarnished by bitter flame wars and toxic fandom factions. Masahiro Sakurai, a famous former Nintendo developer, was now reviled by many as  not merely one who supposedly spat in the face of competitive Smash fans, but as a sellout who pandered entirely to Nintendo's new audience. Amid all the chaos, it was a burgeoning accusation that grew beyond Sakurai, for the absolute worst was yet to come.

Enter E3 2008. The mass disappointment from Brawl and Mario Kart Wii shifted all eyes towards what Nintendo had lined up for the unknown future. All hopes were crushed in face of a show entirely dedicated to products solely for the aforementioned casual market. What should've been an exciting announcement for the Wii Motion Plus accessory was obscured by a patronizing PR woman going gaga over virtual dog frisbee, while the disastrous, ear-offending Wii Music performance was chosen as the show's closer (guest-starring Ravi Drums!). The closest thing "core" gamers could latch onto was the latest Animal Crossing, which later proved to be nothing more than a mere port of the DS iteration.

Pandemonium erupted. Fans everywhere cried that Nintendo abandoned them in favor of soccer moms and retirees that ate up Wii Sports pack-ins and Wii Fit Balance Boards. Much as Nintendo denied this notion, the damage was already done. While the Wii continued to break sales records across the globe, the anti-core stigma would surround both the console and Nintendo for the rest of the generation. Some fans immediately forsook their Nintendo love, selling their Wiis and moving on to greener Xbox/PlayStation pastures. Others simply gritted their teeth at Nintendo's newfound love for the casual audience, waiting not-so-patiently for the next Mario and Zelda. So occupied fans were with this "Wii has no games" stigma that many hadn't noticed third-parties finally figured out how to make good Wii games, but hardly a soul was around to purchase them (excluding the occasional outliers like Boom Blox and de Blob).

As fans cried helplessly at the advent of an empty Christmas season, a familiar figure stopped by crisp September morning and said "Hey, you guys wanna come back and dream with me for a while?" At the sound of his voice, fans remembered: a year ago, a remake of one of the greatest Nintendo sidescrollers ever made was announced for the DS. As they rose to follow, the clouds outside their window echoed a time long-since obscured by cynicism. The sky was even the same shade of blue.

Could the nostalgic euphoria they've been searching for finally be found in Kirby Super Star Ultra? Maybe some hadn't noticed, but a close look at the game's box art revealed something: it was the first time Kirby smiled on American shelves in over seven years.

-----

When revisiting Kirby Super Star Ultra last year, I shocked to realize my experience with the game matched exactly that of Nightmare in Dream Land. Both games weren't perfect, but any flaws were immediately obscured (let alone noticed) by the euphoria of "ohmygodohmygodohmygod THEY REMADE THE BEST KIRBY GAME AND IT'S SOOOO GOOOOD". But when the hype wears off, the remakes and the originals constantly strive for supremacy -- just when the remake trumps it's predecessor in one area, it drops the ball on something else in mere seconds.

It's absolutely eerie how Super Star Ultra mirrors Nightmare in Dream Land in certain aspects of this, but there's one big difference between the two remakes; namely, while Sakurai helmed the Kirby's Adventure remake, he had absolutely no involvement with this particular title. Indeed, he's not even listed in the credits.

A cause for concern, perhaps. We know little of Sakurai's design process for Super Star, but as mentioned long ago, it's the debuting title for his famous design philosophy: a cohesive, filled-to-the-brim presentation chock-full of options, knick-knacks and absurd, yet wonderfully addictive gameplay concepts. It's a model he continued to follow all the way up through his last HAL title (Kirby Air Ride), and even today one can turn to the latest Smash games and Kid Icarus: Uprising for delectably recent examples.

Without Sakurai, it was perfectly natural to be concerned if HAL could recapture the magic of the most beloved Kirby title, especially when considering their output by 2008. Yes, Canvas Curse was a near-masterpiece that captured even non-Kirby fans, but only because it was an oddball deviant from the standard formula. Squeak Squad and The Amazing Mirror were outsourced to ex-Capcom devs, and even under HAL's supervision they were greeted with a less-than-stellar reception. This isn't even mentioning how HAL's attempt to forge a Kirby Super Star successor--that is, the game that would eventually become Kirby's Return to Dream Land--was currently languishing in the depths of development hell.

As we've long since known, there's no cause for concern, since this remake is the best Kirby game since the original Super Star itself. That it's freakin' Super Star grants it an unfair advantage perhaps, but that it holds the title at all confirms the soul of the SNES original is alive and well on the DS. And that's no small feat: to successfully retrain what made the original--beloved by many as the single greatest Kirby game--all the while respectfully building upon where Sakurai left off speaks volumes about HAL's success.

So with that in mind, where DO we start? Reviewing the classic subgames' transition? The new games built upon those old games, gleefully expanding a product that advertised itself as being multiple games in one? How the orchestra-styled music sounds now? What the new music sounds like? How the wireless local multiplayer holds up?

Whether or not it still makes me dream?

The graphics it is, then. Whereas Adventure's 8-bit aesthetic had to be reinterpreted for the Game Boy Advance, Super Star's plush, delectable sprites provide a perfect base for this remake to build itself upon. While the conversion's not perfect, we're given a great first impression through three steps. Remember: the top shot's the original, while the remake's the bottom one.

The opening that stole our hearts back in 1996--a gorgeous combination of pre-rendered models and the Mode 7 graphics--has now been reimagined into a fully 3D-animated sequence. In fact, all the sprite-based cutscenes from the original are now portrayed in 3D thanks to the ActImagine Video Codec. While a tad grainy, Ultra's initial display wows us with a far more picturesque display, complete with landmarks and scenery ripped straight from Super Star's backgrounds. Accompanied by the familiar bombastic opening score, we're already mired deep in nostalgia.

Kirby no longer dons his festive Beam hat for the title screen logo, but he's still smiling, so that's okay. The CGI title hasn't aged gracefully, so we're given a much more lush version via spritework. Note the new file select: Japanese fans and Kirby fanatics like me are treated to buttons made of Paulownia wood, which was the motif for Kirby Super Star's Japanese box art (as anyone who's read the Kirby's Dream Collection booklet knows, Japan uses Paulownia wood to store valuables). The portraits still echo the last sub-game you played, but Kirby's neutral, faded expressions portray a stunning nostalgic contrast to his leftward expressive countenances. When accompanied by the ever-soothing Save Hut music, its sentimental essence is multiplied twicefold.

The beloved cork board selection screen returns! It's not completely identical; namely, Kirby's antics aren't plastered all over the titles anymore, as HAL had to make room for all the new games. Whether it's better or not is up to preference, but that they chose to retain the cork board aesthetic is a great sign that HAL understood the project. Besides, I find the yellow border a much better complement than the original: an overly crassy green reminiscent of 90's Nickelodeon slime. A nostalgic slime, but still slime nonetheless.

So the stage is set for a perfect remake, right? Well, not so fast. Let's observe the actual game through comparison:

Like Nightmare in Dream Land before it, Super Star Ultra makes a wonderful first impression in its first level. The background has been completely renovated, echoing the original scenery with familiar stars and stripes of all sorts. Meanwhile, the foreground has been spruced up with such lavish detail that the original looks quite bare by comparison. Finally, the sprites aren't quite as plush as they were on the SNES; rather, they're upgrades from the Nightmare in Dream Land sprites used over the game's respective decade. For instance, a comparison between Kirby himself from both remakes reveals that he still has the same beady, heart-melting look.

Also note the wonderful use of the HUD. While practically gutted and squashed in Nightmare in Dream Land for the tiny GBA screen, the DS's two screens know not the meaning of "limits", for HAL took the liberty to decorate the HUD for every substantial sub-game. All are wonderfully detailed, and quite a few of these expertly utilize the touchscreen (namely Milky Way Wishes, which provides instant access to all Copy Abilities).

 

Gosh, I could just talk all day about how beautiful Spring Breeze is now. Just look at Float Islands' transformation: stars are now all the rage in the tropics, with large, multi-colored stars decorating everything from the sea, shells, and even the islands themselves. This is how you reimagine a level: by breathing new life with a visual motif common to the series, we already feel right at home. I wonder if they glow in the dark.

Then Dynablade happens, and, well...see for yourself.

Yes, the distant lakes of of Peanut Plains has been nonsensically wiped in favor of a neverending blue, adorned with tacky spirals and amateur CGI ovals. Oh, wait, those are supposed to be clouds? Sorry, I was too distracted by how aesthetically dissonant this particular background is from the rest of the game. Quite possibly the worst background, it pops infrequently throughout the level and is just a nasty affront to my eyes.

It improves with just the next screen over, yet another incongruity arises. That awesome star cloud balloon is exactly what I'm looking for, yet the scenery just below is obscured by the level's foreground, presenting a jarring confliction. While I do so enjoy learning about Dream Land's breathtaking weather patterns, its beautiful landmarks are not to be neglected, either. For shame, HAL!

It goes without saying that, yes, Super Star Ultra can be just as aesthetically dissonant as Nightmare in Dream Land before it. In particular, Dynablade and The Great Cave Offensive are the biggest offenders, the latter making the unforgivable sin of replacing the starry skies of the minecart rides with a generic cave background, zapping any and all magic out of them. Yes, it's a setting that makes sense, and it does echo the star theme through the stone formations, but Kirby games are not bound to geographical logic. These moments of magical incongruence were among the most stunning of the original game's locales, and to change into something so painfully generic comes across as surprisingly tone-deaf.

Of course, being a back-and-forth battle, it's home to some beautiful stuff as well. Do look at how the renovated the save hut interiors: construction only stopped halfway through, yet we're given a stunning panoramic view of the velvet jungle. Super Star's providing of a window gave us a peek into the forbidden, yet here we're invited to sit on the precipice and absorb the surrounding. I still wonder which one I like more.

And it's not like Dynablade doesn't do this, either. I mean, was anyone else compelled to bounce on those striped growths decorating the outside of Marshmallow Castle? The funnest of Kirby backgrounds lend themselves to deepest lore, which in this case involves Dream Landers bouncing about on said growths instead of attending mandated castle balls. If there's any reason to be jealous of Dream Land's idyllic lifestyle, let it be that.

In the end, however, the tug-of-war between the two games' backgrounds is rather...disappointing. Nightmare in Dream Land's dive into realistic fantasy was an experiment so fascinating that any flubs were mostly forgiven, yet I struggle to do the same here. Perhaps it's because Super Star Ultra's overall aesthetic hues closer to the source material that I feel such discomfort, and it's a shame it struck some of the more memorable setpieces. I mean, the aforementioned stars of the minecart ride...you just...you just can't toss that!

And that's a shame, because Super Star Ultra nails the aesthetics for just everything else. For starters, the animation is GREAT. Not to diminish the quality of Super Star's spritework, but there's so many little touches that simply eclipse the original. Kirby himself is a standout -- there's many new flourishes to his Copy Abilities, like how Ice Kirby skates along wherever he goes, as seen above.

I could nitpick if I wanted to; for instance, the position Kirby's partners relax themselves on Warp Stars are woefully uninspired compared to their original efforts (Poppy Bros. Jr being the most unfortunate casualty), yet it's when things actually move that I'm able to forgive any slight transgressions. Above is another favorite: yes, Parasol Waddle Dee indeed gained weight for his reprisal. Just look at how flabby he is whenever he, er, waddles about.

Anyway, if the actual levels couldn't perfectly replicate/build upon Super Star's aesthetic, there's another area that does: the aforementioned CGI cutscenes. Whereas Super Star utilized spritework, Ultra's 3D animation brings the plushness of the original to life in a way not seen since Super Smash Bros. Melee's Green Greens stage. The familiar hills and landmarks are there! The grass is checkered! I want to squeeze everything in sight!

I mentioned their grainy quality. This isn't so bad; after all, other DS games featuring similar animations had the same problem too (see the Professor Layton games), so I won't rag on changing the impossible. What does matter is that they respect the choreography of the original and they're charming as ever, my favorite in the whole game being Dedede plodding through the desert in a slump, slowly joined by his Waddle Dee comrades as they venture into the sunset.

But we have tarried enough on graphics: onto how the game actually plays! Any background quirks aside, it's not hyperbole when I say the older sub-games function, more or less, exactly as you remember them. You might find a tweak here or there in the level design, but nothing to the level of Butter Building's reconstruction in Nightmare in Dream Land. Kirby's attack on Meta Knight's Halberd, for instance, is structurally identical in everything from his first assault, him playing catch-up on the islands, and discovering Mace Knight's hidden horde of Maxim Tomatos.

Needless to say, this is a good thing. A game of Kirby Super Star's length would've admittedly been too short by 2008's standards, but since this remake includes several new adventures, no overt changes to the sub-games were necessary. One could even say the pacing has improved: maybe the original ended too quickly, but here we have a thoroughly meaty package big enough to fill a month's play.                                                                  
          

But that doesn't mean they don't throw surprises every now and then. New music pieces tend to accompany classic boss moments, such as Revenge of Meta Knight's Heavy Lobster. The rapid, repetitive percussion grants a new sense of urgency for the battle, undoubtedly a nod to the sub-game's ticking time limit. That it's a recurring boss fight means we can look forward to it again and again.

And here we have a self-reference within a self-reference. As evidenced by the title, this song is reserved for some of the game's bigger bosses (Dynablade and Wham Bam Rock), yet that it accompanies the former is what's interesting. Why, it's the arrangement of the Kirby Air Ride song when Dynablade wreaked havic in City Trial, which in itself was a remix of Kirby's Dream Land's Castle Lololo from the anime adaption! Needless to say, it works wonders both as a reference and by itself.

But how well did they retain the original music? Quite well for the most part, although there is a change in the sound team: Jun Ishikawa returns for arrangement, but the elusive Dan Miyakawa was replaced by sereis mainstay Hirokazu Ando. On the simple side of the spectrum, Green Greens nearly perfects the SNES sound library here. Many similar songs within the remake receive the same treatment, so while you may be able to carefully discern an instrumental difference here and there, they sound largely the same.

On the more bombastic side, we can hear signs of struggle. The weaker instruments used for Marx's Theme are obvious, but that it still succeeds in sounding like a grand nightmare is commendable. Where Ultra really flounders are the more booming, orchestral songs found in The Great Cave Offensive and Revenge of Meta Knight, as seen below.

It's really evident in these two pieces in particular, and while I imagine they tried just as hard as Yasunori Mitsuda did in retaining Chrono Trigger's sound for its respective port, it's clear some compensation had to be made. Thankfully, such examples are few and far between. While some tracks lose their bombastic quality, the majority of it sounds, more or less, like it did on the SNES. Another largely successful feat.

From here on, changes are more murky. The treasures of The Great Cave Offensive have shifted around to include newer Nintendo and Kirby references, yet they trim down the fun Weather Heart theme that concluded every area. The lovable Beginner's Show tutorials return, yet there's no interactivity. Whether or not these are for the better boils down to personal opinion, for most of these changes have their ups and downs.

Only one other alteration comes out as objectively better: the revamped translation. With a new localization team, any of the dry sentences or flat-out mistranslations that afflicted the original are nowhere to be seen. The sinister peanut gallery in Revenge of Meta Knight are more balanced in their respective qualities of campiness (namely Meta Knight, who's far more reserved), and no longer are the motives of a certain jester so poorly translated.

So with all these changes that'd only matter to eagle-eyed (and eared!) players like me, what's left is the main draw of the remake: the new modes. Reserved for the last stretch of the game, these sub-games have a lot to live up to. For one thing, they have to flow properly with the rest of the original material. The new level and boss design have to come across as though they were built by Sakurai's team, and the new music simply cannot be phoned in. Again, not easy.

HAL's solution is simpler than you expect: ape some classic moments of the original sub-games, build upon them, and then crank up the difficulty. Not nearly lazy as it sounds, what's amazing about these new sub-games is how despite having their roots within what the original game offered, they somehow manage bring their own originality to the fold. Take Revenge of the King: at it's core, it's basically, a tougher Spring Breeze. Dream Land's Extra Mode this isn't, but speak of the devil, all the forgotten foes that plagued you there make their terrifying comeback (along with the return of a certain boss, complete with gender confirmation!). With the level design fleshing itself out by retaining more of the source material, one could make the compelling argument that this is what the original Spring Breeze should've been like.

           

And that final level! Unleashing a boss gauntlet full of cameos and peppering dialogue between Dedede and his Waddle Dee cohort, Revenge of the King  tops it off with what's easily the greatest fight against the penguin king. I'll dare not spoil the details here, but it's accompanied by an incredible battle track. Beginning with a touch of Melee's Fountain of Dreams, King Dedede's Theme has never been this deadly and frantic before.

But why stop at taking inspiration from Super Star when you could take a page from a fellow remake? Meta Knightmare Ultra once again has players in control of Meta Knight, yet what we have here is far more robust than Nightmare in Dream Land's respective mode. While Meta Knight must once again traverse the levels and sub-games Kirby already cleared, this time he's aided by a meter that accumulates points the more he slices up enemies. Fill up the meter, and options such as calling upon his knights or unleashing Mach Tornados become available. I'm still not quite sure why he decides to take down his own flying battleship, but it's best not to ponder on the context of Kirby games.

               

There is more I'd like to discuss. There's three new score-based minigames that blow the originals (Megaton Punch and Samurai Kirby) out of the water in replayability. There's two new Arena modes, not the least of which puts the helpers born from Kirby's Copy Abilities in the spotlight as playable characters. It's accompanied by what's probably the best new Kirby song of the '00s: a solemn arrangement of Kirby 64's Ripple Star map theme that now captures a sleepy autumn afternoon. Like Fountain of Dreams before it, it takes what was originally a fast-paced track (although in this case, not nearly as innocuous) and transforms it into something entirely, somberly new.

But once again, I dare not speak more. For the lows Ultra may occasionally have in restoring the games of old, the highs hit the same magical highs. All the proof you need is a new era of Kirby followed its template, right down to the plush aesthetics and multi-fledged Copy Abilities. Any flaws can be forgiven, for the heartbeat of Super Star successfully revived itself in the modern age, and so Kirby Super Star Ultra joins the ranks of Pokemon Soul Silver/Heart Gold and Super Mario All-Stars as the finest remakes Nintendo has under its repertoire.

Which reminds me: the first time I played it, I found a hidden path in Dynablade's Candy Mountain level, just under the waterfall. It was there in the original, but I never stopped to think about that peculiar arrow formation of food until that September evening. When replaying through for the blog, I discovered you can actually share food in mid-air. Both are minor details, but I never knew about them before. And I'll continue to discover more every time I sit down and play.

The magic is alive and well. I wonder how many kids over the past decade have looked out their window.

Ten Years of Kirby ~Reverie 10~ Kirby and the Amazing Mirror

2004. The new year greeted Nintendo fans with the hush-hush PR announcement of a new handheld: the two-screen Nintendo DS, complete with a touch screen and stylus. The wild concept threw fans for a loop, and no one was sure what to make of it. Photoshops illustrating the plummeting of Nintendo's stock and comparisons to the doomed Virtual Boy begged the question: had the company fallen off its rocker? Had the years of backwards hardware and nonsense peripherals finally caught up to them? Much skepticism surrounded the new handheld, and with the Gamecube's fall schedule devoid of anything but sequels (Metroid Prime, Pikmin, and Paper Mario--all of them 2s, might I add), things were looking bleak...

...until Nintendo proceeded to open a can of whoop-ass at that year's E3. The new Zelda reveal for the Gamecube flung series fans into euphoria, but the explosion of game announcements for the DS completely turned heads around. With the likes of a Metroid Prime spin-off, the first true Animal Crossing sequel, a reimagining of Super Mario 64, and the first new side-scrolling Mario in thirteen years, opinions of the new handheld instantly shifted from indifference to uncontrollable hype.

While Nintendo initially marketed the new handheld as a "third pillar" to accompany the Gamecube and Game Boy Advance, it was only a matter of time until the latter began to be phased out. WarioWare; Twisted!, Pokémon Emerald and the long-awaited Mother 3 were still in the wings, but stiff competition from both its DS successor and the Sony PSP--all with their shiny 3D graphics and fancy screens and casual appeal--put a sudden halt to its growth. Too soon? Perhaps, but a new era was dawning for the Big N, and it soon became apparent the Game Boy Advance had no use in Nintendo's bid for the expanded market or in competing against the Sony PlayStation Portable..

Alas, our dear friend Kirby couldn't slow the GBA's descent into irrelevancy; if anything, the puffball was all set for his DS debut via Kirby: Canvas Curse, while his second and last GBA title stumbled into existence. Co-developed by Dimps Corporation and Capcom subsidiary Flagship, massive game-breaking bugs were discovered only weeks before the spring Japanese release of Kirby and The Great Mirror Labyrinth, and the game had to be pulled for another month despite advertisements and reported manufacturing of cartridges.

It goes without saying that Kirby and The Great Mirror Labyrinth is a badass title--one that doesn't quite roll off the tongue of American children, and one that's certainly not present in this blog post's title. Indeed, it was the rebranding into the bland, nonsensically joyous Kirby and the Amazing Mirror that directed fans' attention to the existence of not just the "Angry Kirby" phenomenon, but of some downright bizarre localization choices, be they blatant mistranslations or renaming longtime characters.

Do these translation fumbles permeate the entire game? Does Kirby bid his farewell to the Game Boy Advance on a good note? The answer might not be what you expect...

-----

Kirby and the Amazing Mirror is a weird game. When considering how the context of Kirby games are only a tad stranger (and perhaps just as tonally familiar) than your average Super Mario game, that's one hell of a statement. Forget approaching by itself; as a Kirby title, it's vastly unintuitive and unfamiliar to the point of potential alienation. As Kirby games are meant to be easy gateways for anyone to get into, Amazing Mirror doesn't make for a great first impression.

Now, is this wholly a bad thing? Not quite. Despite its missteps in presentation, Amazing Mirror is still a solid game. It doesn't require the mountain of patience from Kirby Air Ride, as the traditional gameplay of swallowing and copying remains intact. So what's the problem? It's the change in framework; a shift in context, if you will. For as eager as Amazing Mirror is to embark into uncharted territory, it neglects in properly introducing its new persona to the player.

And what sort of identity does the first post-Sakurai Kirby brand itself as? Metroidvania.

Wait, what?

That's right. After witnessing Meta Knight's retcon into the side of justice, being split into four by his not-so-justice doppelganger, and having an off-screen falling-out with the classic "run-straight-to-the-right" model of sidescrolling play, Kirby traverses the Mirror World as if he was spelunking deep within the crevices of Brinstar and Tallon IV.  However, unlike Metroid lead Samus Aran, he's accompanied by his color-coded copies as they tackle one realm after the other, solving puzzles and ganging up on bosses.

Here's where Amazing Mirror slips up: the context of the four Kirbies--such as their origin and rallying them via cell phone--are shown and explained. The Metroidvania exploration is not.

Needless to say, those not expecting the initial transition from Rainbow Route to Moonlight Mansion are in for a rather unorthodox surprise. Instead of simply ending the level, Amazing Mirror grants the player free reign over traversing the game's worlds until they stumble across one of the designated goal sectors. Upon entering its doorway or defeating its assigned boss, Kirby warps back to the central hub with the treasure he hoarded during his trek.

This concept of spelunking for treasure should instantly bring to mind that of The Great Cave Offensive from Kirby Super Star, but it's ultimately difficult to draw parallels between it and Amazing Mirror. Whereas The Great Cave Offensive encourages completion in a more confined design, the Mirror World is of a loose complexity. Within Amazing Mirror's biggest stumble is its greatest asset revealed: much like its source of inspiration, it's entirely possible to forge ahead in ways discordant to natural progression.

As Metroid and Castlevania before it, Amazing Mirror's greatest strength come forward in simply exploring this new world unfamiliar to us. We've crossed similarly unfamiliar realms with Kirby before, but never have we traversed such one in such a manner, and so we long-time fans are all the more intrigued by its implementation, however clumsy it's introduction. Just like the original Metroid, I'm compelled to turn on the game and trek deep into the unknown.

For the sake of exploration, Amazing Mirror does work on an inquisitive level. That it fumbles in introducing this new system no doubt implies there's other screw-ups awaiting us, but it's still interesting enough to hold our interest. For one thing, there's enough landmarks to grab our attention: just what are those star-marked stones lying around on Rainbow Route? Why are some of the Mirror Doors alive, and how can I outwit them so I can progress? What's that switch do, and where does this cranny lead?

It also helps that it's interesting to look at. New development team aside, this is still Nightmare in Dream Land's engine through and through, right down to aesthetics and music instrumentation. In regards to the former, the backgrounds don't dive as deeply into realistic fantasy, but thankfully Flagship recognized the importance of maintaining that delicate balance between children's fantasy and dark mystery.

These three backgrounds--Rainbow Route and two from Peppermint Palace, respectively--consist of a different vein of fantasy from the Dream Land we're familiar with. Rainbow Route's set pieces would be right at home with your typical outdoor oil painting, but I'm particularly a fan of Peppermint Palace; there are some vague resemblances to icy structures and mountains and the like, but they blend in so well the gorgeous weather patterns that they may as well be one and the same. I've always thought of the latter as a gentle cluster of sparkling azure blankets.

And here we take a dive into the dark unknown via Carrot Castle and Cabbage Cavern. The former's ballroom scenery provides a grand sense of scale for a handheld screen. A dim setting never before explored in Kirby, its fleeting yet imposing appearances are easily the world's highlight, and I dearly wish to have seen more of it. Thankfully, the overgrown flora of Cabbage Cavern provide not just a similar sense of scale but the perfect setting for Kirby's first foray into Metroidvania: an untouched cavern only intruded by stray rays of sunshine, its spoils ready for the taking.

When married to the set-up and action of the foreground, Amazing Mirror does succeed in providing something of a visually compelling world. This above shot of Candy Constellation proves this with yet another series first: traversing just above a planet's orbit (Kirby Super Star technically did this first, but the actual planet wasn't reflected in the background; just a cluster of equally dazzling stars). It's a wonderfully satisfying setting for the final level, as it comes complete with a phenomenal Smash Bros. reference (of several!) in a boss and a thundering, starry score.

Ah, yes, the music. The HAL Laboratory veterans are absent (no doubt busy with the upcoming Canvas Curse), but we have two new composers to pick up the slack: Hironobu Inagaki and Atsuyoshi Isemura, both co-workers from the Sonic Advance era. I'd be lying if I said I was perfectly content with their work -- the title screen theme is nothing more than a repetitive jingle while the final boss theme perfectly complements its disappointing nature (more on that later), but the actual level themes do a splendid job in building a new realm for Kirby.

We witness this nearly right away when Rainbow Route wholly hits the notes of "the first level". This one's always captured me in how it gently defies the signature Kirby opener: it's still upbeat, but what we have here touches upon an adventurous panorama, brimming with cavort at every corner. The song's of a short length and is prone to looping, but as it induces a desire for adventure into the player, it never grates the ears. With how Rainbow Route serves as the all-encompassing hub, it's a delightful introduction.

Meanwhile, Olive Ocean represents the finest of the game's sense of, as it comes packaged with all the urgency found in your typical claustrophobic water levels. While not necessarily eerie, that it conjures up recollections of other similar urgency via Super Star's Revenge of Meta Knight and Kirby 64's Dark Star renders it a soundtrack highlight. It's granted a scale that swallows the player into the chilling depths of a bottomless ocean, its pounding pressure pushing us deeper and deeper into the unknown.

The aforementioned Candy Constellation rounds out the game with a stellar astral motif, opening with an explosive rocket launch fanfare before segueing into its dreamy main theme. It's sprightly and whimsical all the same, and I love how its intro both complements and contrasts the actual song--it bursts with all the importance of a finale that the starry peppiness thoroughly conveys, yet I can't help but feel it channels the jubilance found in most Kirby openings (as opposed to Rainbow Route). I wonder if it's just coincidental.

Bringing our musical tour to a close are the themes for the Rainbow Route hub and the intro/collection room, of which share the same motif and excel in illustrating an unknown, mystical realm just outside the boundaries of Kirby's world. Both reside in opposite ends of the repose spectrum: the former possesses a tad of urgency, whereas the collection room's contents are rendered all the more sacred thanks to the meditative pace.

If only such care was lavished upon the new Copy Abilities. There's only five of them, but Amazing Mirror's repertoire fluctuates so unevenly in quality and utilization that it's a wonder the later Squeak Squad barely edges it out for the title of "Worst New Abilities in a Kirby Game." It's that dire.

My heart continues to be broken by Cupid Kirby, for instance. The sight of Kirby gently flittering about the sky with the aid of itty-bitty angel wings, beady eyes and halo and all, is so innately adorable that you wonder why it hadn't been done before. And they screwed it up. It's simply too slow and clunky and just plain weak to derive any enjoyment from, and believe me, I tried. I tried so hard. I am still legitimately depressed by this; Kirby was made for that copy ability, and they screwed it up!

Meanwhile, Magic and Mini only serve as gimmicky one-trick-ponies, the former for a worthless reward-granting roulette wheel and the latter only useful for scampering about in tiny pathways. The former is just simply baffling; it's only use is for providing some extra 1-ups or food or y'know, stuff that's probably already lying in the room you're in. It's easily the most useless ability in the entire series, and as we'll learn in Squeak Squad the staff hadn't learned from their mistake in the Bubble ability. There's also the problem of Mini's unorthodox usage, but we'll get into that later.

Only Missile and Smash pick up the slack in providing some enjoyment. Of course, the latter would have to be fun given its source of inspiration (the hint is in the name!), but thankfully Flagship understood that missiles are speedy agents of death and so it's the Copy Ability of choice to slaughter Mirror World denizens and bosses alike. Yay.

To the game's credit, it is much appreciated that it returns to Super Star's multi-fledged ability system. While it's not as robust, most powers aren't restricted to a single action anymore and there's even some new twists (Street Fighter fans should get a kick out of Kirby's "charge" move). Despite Flagship's insistence on remolding the Kirby formula, this proves they at least researched what made the series' most popular game so successful (or could we chalk this up to Sakurai's credit as a "Special Advisor"...?).

But that's as far as they got. Amazing Mirror, for all its aspirations and dreams, falls well below the quality threshold of Kirby games. It's goal to combine Kirby gameplay with Metroid-style progression already raises eyebrows, but it's bogged down by Such sloppiness highlights the one true problem of Amazing Mirror: a lack of not just context, but cohesion.

There's the localization, for starters. To criticize a Kirby game for it's localization--which may come across as the ultimate nitpick-- is nothing new. It's astounding as to how games aren't exactly verbose, and yet we've had major translation blunders since the days of Kirby Super Star, with a notorious error regarding the villain Marx's motives ("The sun and moon are fighting. Go find Nova.") and barely-decipherable checklist missions in Kirby Air Ride.

Amazing Mirror continues this "tradition" alongside some woeful renaming. Okay, maybe we can forgive changing Mirror Labyrinth into Mirror World and Angel Kirby into Cupid; after all, names undergo changes all the time in the American industry for the sake of simplification and religious sensitivity, so why call out Amazing Mirror for that?

The real problem lies in name changes that didn't need to be changed; case in point: Crackity Hack. Crackity Hack, a mini-game starring the four Kirbies adorned in badass headgear and contesting to decide who can rupture the earth's crust the most via their destructive stubby arms. Needlessly to say, the name is horrendously embarrassing on all levels, be it not making any sense (there is no "hacking" going on!), cheapening the context into pandering kids' fluff, or that they actually chose it over  the original Japanese "Gigaton Punch" title--a homage to the Megaton Punch mini-game from Super Star.

Speaking of name continuity, the most egregious error lies in a brain-dead renaming. Any Kirby fan should recognize the walrus-y fellow Mr. Frosty, yet a closer look at his name-branded health bar reveals a new name: Mr. Flosty. Yes, Mr. Flosty.  Forget how "flost" isn't even a real word, it's an obvious bastardization of the Japanese phonetic rules regarding the L/R letters (there are many cases where the letters are interchangeable in the Japanese dictionary, and some translators strictly perceive it as "L"). When considering how one of the game's translators (Bill Trinen) had worked on previous Kirby titles that included the character, it reveals a shocking display of disinterest.

And general translation sense, too. We witness this with yet another enemy: a pair of flying giant lips being renamed from "Lip" to "Leap". My command of the Japanese language is only that of a fledgling quality, but even I know the romanji of the original name ("Ripu") only translates to "lip", and it's even dumber when you realize the English verb "leap" automatically disassociates itself to characters who are flying. Apologies to the super-awesome Mr. Trinen (and to Mr. Richard Amtower; another Treehouse veteran), but this is easily some of the worst localization work ever put out by NOA. Also, please tell Angry Kirby to go away; we don't take kindly to his presence.

The actual gameplay, too, suffers from inexplicable missteps. For all the fun parallels the Shadow Kirby character provides, his sudden encounters prove only to be confusing. Why exactly does he appear with zero context, and why are his battles so short-lived and easy? Why exactly does the last phase for the final boss suddenly turn into a scrolling shooter? Why did they randomly shoehorn the credits immediately upon his defeat?

Even the starring four Kirby mechanic keeps us asking. While it's a neat novelty to have the CPU wander off on their own, the AI is too poor to serve as reliable comrades and so they often end up being sent back to the Rainbow Route hub upon dying. There is little coordination or interaction between the clones, and only come to life when positioned next to a puzzle (such as, say, using all four Kirbies' Inhale ability to move a giant boulder)

And here we arrive at the crux of the matter: Kirby and the Amazing Mirror wants to be Metroidvania, but cannot be Metroidvania. The whole fun of those games is to slowly amass an assortment of gear to not only increase your chances of surviving in an unknown world, but to overcome previously insurmountable paths and obstacles. You gradually became one with the game's world as you traverse its nooks and crannies again and again, pumping fists in triumph when discovering Samus's newly acquired missiles can blast open those annoying pink doors from earlier.

The fundamental mechanics of Kirby games prevent Amazing Mirror from accomplishing this. With Kirby only being able to possess one Copy Ability at a time, the Mirror World instantly loses any chance it had in thriving as a fully organic map. For whatever interesting landmarks dot the landscape, most attempts at puzzle-solving typically revolve around whatever Copy Ability happens to be lying around (or not, which results in some annoying backtracking).

The aforementioned Mini Kirby is the perfect example. We can think of it as a homage to Samus's Morph Ball, which can also fit through tiny tunnels, but Mini Kirby serves little purpose in comparison. It's only purpose is for entering obviously inaccessible rooms, whereas the Morph Ball's multi-purpose design naturally compels the player to prod around the alien world via bombing, boosting, and rail grinding. In contrast, Mini is absolutely useless outside of mandatory exploration, and we are left to mourn the potential loss of any innovation it could've brought.

Being so harsh on Amazing Mirror brings me no pleasure -- I like getting lost within its maps, I'm rather fond of the color spray that can turn Kirby into different colors (why isn't that in more Kirby games?), and I do so enjoy gazing into its backgrounds. But such periphery pleasures only propels Amazing Mirror into simply being "good," and I'm rather bothered by how its core concept betrays the "newcomer" design mentality behind Kirby games.

I could perhaps go on with my criticism--mainly in that Flagship and Dimps tried to be too ambitious with a franchise they'd only just gotten their hands on, and how The Great Cave Offensive trumps it as an epic spelunking adventure--but what's the point? It still intrigues me on an experimental level despite it ill-fated lofty ambitions, and at the very least we can take pleasure in knowing that it ended up being better than Flagship's next Kirby effort. Much pleasure.