Back in the days of Super Smash Bros. Melee when I'd browse its lauded collection of lovingly-crafted trophies, I couldn't help but foster a burgeoning affinity towards one particular replica: Samus's Starship, hailing from Game Boy's Metroid II: Return of Samus. Not because I was experiencing Metroid nostalgia, you understand -- I wasn't yet a fan by Melee's release -- but more so in cultivating a touch of personal pride via its accompanying origin date of 11/91; in other words, my birth date. How vindicating is that? I've always held warm feelings towards Super Nintendo for similar reasons -- perhaps that's why it's my favorite console -- but it surely can't top that. A wonder, then, that Metroid hasn't ousted EarthBound, Kirby, and Smash Bros. from their seats as my all-time favorite Nintendo franchises.
Alas, perhaps it's that the stars only aligned for coincidence as opposed to birthing an outright classic, for Metroid II: Return of Samus never enjoyed the accolades of its successors (Super Metroid, Metroid Prime) or even its own NES progenitor. This isn't due to any untoward experimentation so commonly found in retro sequelization -- if anything, its goals breed potential finally realized in its incredible 3DS remake: Metroid: Samus Returns -- but rather that the Game Boy is ill-equipped to handle such direction; in other words, we're dealing with a game featuring familiar genre pratfalls found in its heyday. As you've likely guessed, the absence of a map system and woefully obtuse level design do little favors for Samus's Metroid-hunting expedition, but I confess my main problem lies within a particularly clumsy bait-and-switch in its music score. I cannot emphasize enough how the opening Tunnel Theme -- one I've written in the past as being a damn good tune -- instills us with urgency and drive, headlining our mission of eliminating SR388's Metroid hives.
And so, it finally begins: my foray into a certain video game phenomenon that's ballooned far past its Nintendo origins. In a development still eluding my inner seven-year-old, I've largely cooled on my Pokémon passion. This isn't to say we had a falling out -- my two visits to Pokémon: Symphonic Evolutions should be testament enough -- but that I've only just purchased Pokémon Let's Go: Pikachu! four months after release, still have yet to open it, and am currently resisting the smoldering coals of Pikachu's eyes as I type this prove it's no longer my No. 1 video game priority. I confess this as a young man whose Pokémon background mirrored that of every other young boy in 1999 America: I playedPokémonRed-- one of the two versions we're reviewing today -- to death, worshipped the localized cartoon
daily, and collected countless cards, stuffed
animals, books, and toys. Those, too, reflect the ravages of time: the teams I've forged in PokémonRed are
forgotten and erased, I've long since abandoned the (still-running!)
anime, my old cards -- despite my best efforts in preservation binders
-- still pop up in various nooks and crannies, strategy
guides and comic books lie torn and/or lost, the stuffed animals display worn seams and cat gnawed-tears, and toys lie broken, disassembled, and battery-drained.
That it took this long to cover a full-length review for Pokémon -- having previously only covered brief impressions for Pokémon Soul Silver andPokémon White while only reviewing theDetective Pikachuspin-off -- most publicly proves this shift, but make no mistake: while we could chalk up any number of reasons why I've fallen off the Pokémon ride, my same passion for writing, game analysis, and
historic study applied to its Game Boy roots. It is my dedication to nostalgia that keeps me on this path, and what better evidence than playing both Red and Blue
versions via their 3DS Virtual Console re-releases to completion? This was completely unnecessary in itself -- both only differ in version-exclusive Pokémon to catch -- but their infamous balance sparked an insatiable curiosity. If there's any
confirmation a deep love for Pikachu still beats in my heart, let it be
that.
Origin: Metroid II: Return of Samus Plays In:Main Tunnel Status: Original Composition Composed By: Ryoji Yoshitomi
Where do I even begin with this E3? The pseudo-3D sequel to Yoshi's Woolly World? The "best-of" approach to the new Kirby Switch game? The remake of Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga that comes packed with a hilarious sidestory? The genuine, infectious passion behind Mario + Rabbids Kingdom Battle, which is as unpredictable as the concept itself? The DLC for Zelda: Breath of the Wild, which I desire to play this very instant? The explosion of ideas, presentation and joy that is Super Mario Odyssey, which I believe without a doubt will be GOTY?
Well, I think my selection for today speaks for itself. Out of all the wonderful announcements and previews from yesterday, there was nothing more exciting, blissful and cathartic than the news of not one, but TWO new Metroid titles: Metroid Prime 4 and Metroid: Samus Returns. As a fan of the original Prime trilogy, I let out something resembling an inhuman scream of joy upon the announcement for the former, so that should tell you how excited I am for that.
Our final retrospective brings us to a turbulent 2012. While 3DS never gained its predecessor's sales momentum, its constant, ample support from Nintendo and web of third-parties kept players invested. Masahiro Sakurai's Kid Icarus: Uprising wasn't without its critics, but its dense cohesion, witty script and loving reiminaging of a cult classic rendered it another Sakurai masterpiece. Meanwhile, Fire Emblem: Awakening's Japanese release would set the seeds for the cult-favorite strategy series to finally emerge as a landmark Nintendo franchise; seeds that wouldn't fully blossom until its Western release a year later, but the series' vindication would finally arrive after nearly twenty years and thirteen entries.
But to the surprise of no one who'd been following Nintendo home consoles for the past twenty years, Wii was left in the dust in the advent of Wii U. Stragglers like Rhythm Heaven Fever and Mario Party 9 could only do so much to slow the console's death, and had it not been for the late localizations of Xenoblade Chronicles and The Last Story, America may've shared the even direr release drought of Japan.
Cue the ensuing E3 frustration: yet again, Nintendo fumbled on their Wii U presentation. It had all the trappings of a boring conference: the lack of any attention-grabbing surprises, forced comedy and banter, dreadfully dull, prolonged multiplayer sessions that undermined the title on display (Nintendo Land), and one or two interesting titles quickly swept under the rug (the long-awaited Pikmin 3, which came and went right as the show began). It was an omen of things to come: the Wii U would massively underperform in its November launch, all thanks to poor marketing, the lack of compelling software, and the presence of a screen controller...thing that no one, not even Nintendo themselves, knew what to do with.
But even before that failure became reality, Nintendo had already recognized the detriments of their awkward conferences and began taking countermeasures nearly a year prior. Launched in late 2011 were digital presentations dubbed "Nintendo Directs," designed to present concise information for upcoming releases with none of the fat and potential screw-ups common in live presentations. And what better representative to reach out to the people than the president of Nintendo himself: Satoru Iwata.
The Directs gradually caught on: the exclusive announcements guaranteed fans would tune in, but there was something humbling in how a company president dedicated himself for broadcast, all for the sake of consumers. Watching Iwata's affable, eccentric demeanor introduce and interact with the likes of Shigeru Miyamoto, Reggie Fils-Aim, Bill Trinen and even a bunch of bananas won the hearts of viewers.
One particular antic was a cryptic announcement: in April 2012, Iwata was spotted carrying Kirby plushies and beanbags. Initially considered a hint for a new Kirby game, it wasn't until that month's Direct that the meaning would be unveiled...
It was Kirby's 20th anniversary.
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To speak about Kirby's Dream Collection: Special Edition without any sort of bias would be impossible; granted, personal subjectivity is the whole point of reviewing, but never before had a game touched my heart this way before its release, and it's vital I bring that into the open
The whole reason I'd started Ten Years of Kirby was to celebrate my own anniversary with the franchise: a series designed so anyone could clear it, but just deep enough that even the most hardened of gamers can enjoy its adventures. Having grown up with 3D platformers, the likes of Super Mario Bros. and Sonic the Hedgehog werefar too difficult for me, great as they were. As opposed to the free-roam nature of three-dimensional movement, their flat planes required precision and accuracy I lacked.
And yet as a series entirely framed within two-dimensional play, Kirby felt custom-made just for me. Never was it patronizing, but instead just demanding and compelling enough for a player learning the ropes: leaps of faith were rendered null due to Kirby's infinite floatiness, and it was never not interesting in seeing what Copy Ability I would command next. As a budding player, I was empowered by how much it respected me; as a young romantic, I was driven to reverie by dreamy visuals and music.
In what I can't assume to be anything but the designs of the cosmos, Kirby's Dream Collection, created to celebrate Kirby's 20th anniversary, was released on my own tenth year with the franchise (2012). An anniversary within an anniversary! It was nothing less than a dream come true, and so what better way to hold my own celebration by reviewing the entire series?
When regarding all that, reviewing the six games contained within Dream Collection--the Kirby's Dream Land trilogy, Kirby's Adventure, Kirby Super Star and Kirby 64: The Crystal Shards-- would prove insufficient; all six games have been reviewed extensively, and I see little value in repeating my opinions here. It's far more imperative that I evaluate Dream Collection on its own merits -- how is the package as a whole? How are the games preserved? Does it pay proper tribute to Kirby? Would a first-time Kirby player feel at home with its offerings?
All reasonable queries, but there is nothing to fear, for Kirby'sDream Collection is one of the very best compilation/re-release packages Nintendo ever produced. Perish the thought of this being anything like the insanely lazy Super Mario All-Stars Limited Edition; HAL decided if this is going to be an anniversary package of Kirby, then it won't just feature the old; after all, the philosophy of jamming Kirby games with content must stand, so new content shall supplement their legacy. This is an anniversary of what rose HAL to stardom, after all, so there's no choice but to celebrate it with the utmost prestige.
Packaged with an anniversary booklet and soundtrack, Kirby's Dream Collection itself is divided into three modes: naturally, the Classic Titles are front and center, but complementing them are Challenge Stages, based off the addictive time trials found in Return to Dream Land just the year prior, and Kirby's History, which takes an interactive tour over the past twenty years of Kirby.
Borrowing the look and feel of 2011's Kirby Return to Dream Land (with a touch of Kirby's Adventure sprites), Kirby's Dream Collection is as plush and delectable as can be. A compilation of this caliber must enforce nostalgia at every corner, and so the luxurious graphics must be accompanied by sound cut from the same cloth.
Hence the intense euphoria greeting our ears upon reaching the menu. Series regulars Jun Ishikawa, Hirokazu Ando and Shogo Sakai contribute to several new tracks across Dream Collection, their highest point being an arrangement of Bubbly Clouds. A veritable lullaby, it is as sugary sweet as the earliest of childhood memories, and I was especially moved they took this much effort to cozy ourselves into our nostalgia. It's impossible not to melt, and they ensure that by seguing it over to the Classic Titles menu.
Diving into six legacy titles is as magical as can be, but a similar effect is found within Kirby's History. Echoing that of a dignified museum, a moderate take on Castle Lololo plays before unexpectedly shifting into the grand Cloudy Park from Kirby's Dream Land 2. A slower reader who isn't clicking on everything in sight may easily stumble upon this, but that it arrives after no less than three loops renders it something of an easter egg. Just like the original song, it envelops you in the awe-encompassing majesty of its setting.
(As a brief aside, it was particularly mystifying as someone who wasn't intimately familiar with Dream Land 2; I knew I recognized it from somewhere, but I couldn't figure it out no matter how hard I racked my brain. While I'd discover its origin shortly afterwards, it turned out the answer lied in a remix from a Kirby doujin album I purchased over a year earlier.)
Kirby's History takes an unexpected direction with how it chronicles our favorite marshmallow. As opposed to just limiting the relevant timeframe within Kirby or even just Nintendo, real-world events are cited alongside the release of Kirby games. Did you ever stop to think about how Kirby's Dream Land came out the same year as Bill Clinton's inauguration into office? How about the world's population reaching six billion the same year Kirby entered Super Smash Bros.? Granted, I'm not sure how my childhood self would've dealt with not one but two Harry Potter references--he had an irrational hatred for the boy wizard, you see--but it's not like the two entities hadn't crossed paths before.
But apparently even Kirby can't let go of an old grudge, as seen above by desecrating this poor Meta Knight statue. One day, we'll move past this hurdle. Someday.
Regardless, Kirby games naturally get top billing. Each makes an appearance through special menus, trailers and 3D models of their respective box art, although the game list varies upon region: for instance, it only makes sense you won't spot the JP-only Kirby Super Star Stacker in the NA release. A shame, but we Americans (and Europeans!) can solace in the fact we have an exclusive spin-of of our own: the Puyo Puyo-inspired Kirby's Avalanche. (Squishy!)
Even peripheral media like the the 2001 anime makes an appearance in its localized Right Back at Ya! state; coincidentally, Dream Collection arrived on the 10th anniversary of that particular adaption. While full thoughts on the anime will be saved for a later date, viewers can witness 4Kids' amateur dubbing practices in all three episodes, not the least which are the embarrassing theme song and clumsy voice editing for Kirby himself. (Sadly, none of the previews for the three manga adaptions made it into the American release. While understandable since they were never localized, it brings back bitter memories of Viz's cancelled license for Hirokazu Hikawa's version.)
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Kirby's penchant for orchestral performances isn't forgotten, either: at the end of the tour lies behind-the-scenes look for the Gourmet Race to Green Greens chamber orchestral, present on the accompanying soundtrack. Can you spot which of Dream Collection's three composers makes a cameo? The hint lies in how he was involved with orchestras before signing on with HAL...
All delicious, educational treats for even the most diehard of Kirby fans, but how about some actual game? It'd be a waste to simply borrow Return to Dream Land's engine just for a compilation, so why not expand on an addictive component everyone loved? The Challenge Stages return with an even wider variety than before; dare I say they're even harder than what's found in Return to Dream Land?
And perhaps even better? It's the variety that sells it: not only are there different Copy Abilities from last time, but HAL devised new types of Challenge Stages as well: the Magolor Races, which pits Kirby in a time trial against the cloaked troublemaker, and Smash Combat Chambers, where the Smash Ability is unleashed at enemy hordes.
It's the latter that proves HAL's dedication for this compilation. While the rest of the Challenge Stages feature abilities already developed for Return to Dream Land, Smash was built from the ground-up just for an extra mode (complete with its own pause menu instructions: we learn that Kirby's neutral aerial attack--an adorable spinning maneuver--is given the fitting name of "Twinkle Star"). Super Smash Bros. is an extremely vital piece of Kirby's history, so it's only fitting such a tribute was forged.
But as exciting as new content is, the main attraction for the young and the nostalgic are the Classic Titles. The selection is particularly interesting not just for being the first six mainline Kirby titles, but that two directors were responsible for three of each: creator Masahiro Sakurai and level designer Shinichi Shimomura. While Sakurai's efforts are undoubtedly superior, newcomers should delight in highlighting their respective differences: Sakurai's fast-paced, action-packed sugar rushes and Shimomura's slower, leisurely jaunts.
As expected, Dream Collection's games are based on the Virtual Console versions. While switching between the games and Dream Collection is a tad unorthodox (you have to pause and click on Reset), that they include save states--barring Kirby 64--is a blessing.
Games are presented accordingly to match their original size ratio: for instance, the two Game Boy games (Dream Land and Dream Land 2) only take up maybe half the screen, being perfectly squared. Meanwhile, the console games naturally take up a a wider space. While the Kirby's Adventure sprite frames can be turned off, the Game Boy games must have them attached. A fair trade, though they're hardly imposing at all.
Kirby's Dream Land 3 and Kirby 64 (pictured above) are perhaps the best preserved. There's no loss of color in sight, and the size ratio doesn't tamper the display. Both games, alongside Super Star, are particular marvels in that the Wii Remote was incompatible with their downloadable versions, and yet here they fit like a glove.
Dream Land and Dream Land 2 are interesting cases: as mentioned earlier, special care was taken to ensure they match their original, tiny Game Boy displays as closely as possible, so their display is hardly as large as the other games. It's impossible to fully translate a handheld experience into a home console one, so any slight blurs and blown-up sprites and the like are easily forgiven. (Besides, it was the first time Dream Land 2 was officially emulated for American audiences!)
Alas, Kirby's Adventure and Kirby Super Star suffer the most. The nasty darkened filters installed into their Virtual Console versions remain present, and while they're hardly game-ruining, the games' trademark brightness renders their taint a bad aftertaste. Furthermore, they expose Dream Collection's one mark of sloppiness: the preview videos found in Kirby's History are in their original, brightened versions.
For better effect, above is a comparison between the original Kirby's Adventure and its Virtual Console counterpart. They speak for themselves; there's just no getting around the original version serving the game's world infinitely better. Adhering to today's epilepsy measures is a noble cause, but that it's at the cost of game quality leaves a bittersweet taste. When considering they're easily the best games in the package, it's a shame such blemishes left a black mark on not just two of Masahiro Sakurai's masterpieces, but on a glorious celebration of Kirby.
While disappointing, it's hardly enough to dismiss the compilation. And why should it, when it comes with such delightful supplements? The 45-page Collectible Book alone is an amazing treasure trove of concept art, historical context and creator commentary for every Kirby game. Not every title is given the same amount of coverage, but there's enough background development detail to keep things interesting.
With it taking a playful, informal tone throughout, it's an especially fun read. Can you believe that ribbon at the bottom is a game in itself? I consider myself a Kirby superfan, but even some of the trivia questions threw me for a loop, and that's not even considering my shock at some of the cut game content (how about Kirby almost driving a tank in Dream Land 2?). Waddle Dee fans take note: there's a page practically worshiping Nintendo's most adorable goon, and a mention of his ill-fated attempt as a playable character in Kirby 64.
Rounding it out is a beautiful soundtrack comprised of famous songs throughout the series. Much of the selection is expertly picked: Epic Yarn's Green Greens arrangement and Nightmare in Dream Land's Rainbow Resort make for immensely nostalgic choices, while the fan-favorite final boss themes are much appreciated. Only the super-short boss themes stand out as odd choices, although given quantity of songs alongside their lack of loops, it's possible they wanted to conserve space and decided to round things out.
It appears these songs were ripped straight from the source, so as warned in the booklet, the quality varies. While the post-NES console games sound flawless, the 8-bit and handheld games have some audible static fuzziness. Some are better than others: you can hardly detect any air in the Kirby's Adventure tracks, while the muffled filter of Super Star Ultra's Helper's Rest is rather head-scratching when no such thing was present in that game's official soundtrack.
Still, they hardly matter when it comes to the three unique arrangements rounding out the soundtrack. While Gourmet Race to Green Greens once again showcases Kirby's innate talent for orchestra, Dream a New Dream for Tomorrow's piano/recorder medley of ending themes is so profoundly heartfelt, so gently nostalgic you cannot listen to it without a dry eye. With how its rendition of Kirby's Adventure's ending prods at our heartstrings, I cannot think of it as anything but intentional.
The amount of love put into Kirby's Dream Collection renders it one of the most dedicated, genuine titles to be ever released by Nintendo. It's not without its missteps, but that it has not a cynical bone in its body instills it only the purest of joy into the player. It's by no means rushed for that quick buck, but instead an authentic celebration meant for both that longtime fan and that fledgling gamer.
Such a work cannot be produced by anything by developers who not just adore crafting Kirby, but who eagerly wish to share their passion with the world. As Nintendo's final game for Wii, that is the utmost honor.
Origin: Pokemon Red and Blue Plays In: Pallet Town Status: Original Composition Composed by: Junichi Masuda
Where it all began.
Pokemon was an overnight success in America, and I was certainly no exception to its clutches. I followed its Nintendo Power previews with some mild interest, watched as it absorbed the lives of my cousins, and eventually received my own copy of Pokemon Red not too long after it initially came out.
As someone with a strong memory, it's spotty in certain places for this game. I was naturally inclined towards Charmander, but Brock''s Rock-types were a harsh counter, so I found myself drifting towards Squirtle. Other than those two, I can't tell you who else I used in my party. I had one of my cousins play through the game for me after getting stuck at Lt. Surge's puzzle, but I vaguely recall playing through it myself more than once; in fact, I remember one time being shocked I skipped a route after completing the game, full of trainers waiting to fight me. I captured a Golduck in Seafoam Islands. I abused the hell out of the Rare Candy trick, among other glitches (fishing in statues!). I taught my Blastoise Earthquake, which always felled Gary's Venasaur. I always named the main character after my best friend in 1st Grade. There are many other scattered memories...but hardly any connect to a single thread.
Childhood memories are chock-full of gaping holes like that, but I've found that's part of the appeal. They're puzzles that'll never be solved, but each has their own involved story. The Golduck one, for instance; my Mom and I were just driving into an OT session, and I pumped my fist at the thrill of obtaining a Golduck for the first time. The big mystery, of course, is why I hadn't bothered raising a Psyduck into evolving one beforehand, but that aforementioned thrill is the only memory I have of capturing a rare Pokemon. You don't need logic to understand that.
Now that I think about it, I realize the Pokemon phenomenon was bigger to me than the game. I still loved playing it, of course, but my life was practically captivated by everything Pokemon. I watched the cartoon religiously every morning and after school. I rocked out to the full version of the opening theme on CD. I had a behemoth collection of Pokemon cards, courtesy of my mother buying them for me as a reward for being good at school. I obtained practically every Pokemon book and magazine out there--the first issues of Pojo and Beckett, various manga published by Viz, the excellent Versus Book guides, and both editions of the Official Pokemon Handbook. I ate the cereal. I counted down the days to the movie, which was originally scheduled to come out on my birthday. I fell for that fake secret in Expert Gamer about capturing a Yoshi. I had the plushies, the Burger King toys, the pinball game, the Pokedex replicas, everything.
I'm not particularly into any of that anymore (barring my shrine of ancient Pokemon cards), but I remember what was most important of all: there was a time when Pokemon ruled the world. And at the beating heart of that nostalgia is where it all began for every Pokemon fan: the theme of Pallet Town. It's that rare beginning theme that etches every moment of context into a young gamer's heart: the protagonist's SNES console, the Stand by Me reference on his TV, the fat guy marveling at technology in front of Prof. Oak's laboratory., being stopped by the professor himself and receiving your very first Pokemon. The first of many fated battles with your rival, who you've known since you were babies.
It's a mirror of tear-inducing nostalgia in and out of itself, and many cannot listen to it without crying. I still haven't yet, but listening to the orchestrated version at Symphonic Evolutions made me come close. Actually, writing this now is almost pushing me off the edge.
But nostalgia is nostalgia, and memories are memories. What's most important of all is that twenty years later, Pokemon is still around. New fans are still cropping up everywhere, and have their own Pallet Towns in Littleroot and Vaniville. And now, thanks to Red, Blue, and Yellow finally releasing on the 3DS Virtual Console, they can finally experience what defined our lives eighteen, perhaps twenty years ago. That the monochrome corners of Pallet Town will give birth to new childhoods excites me more than anything else
Here's to twenty, forty, and an eternity of more Pokemon. It truly deserves it.
Final Thoughts: Man, does anyone else hate those official "echo" versions of the R/B/Y soundtrack? Totally ruins the feel for me.
Origin: Kirby's Dream Land Plays In: Float Islands/Kaboola Room in Dedede's Castle Status: Original Composition
Composers: Jun Ishikawa
Well, I suppose it makes sense go over a Kirby song in the middle of my Kirby-themed feature! To initiate my first Kirby-related Biweekly Music Wednesday!, I figured I'd start out with an oddball: Float Islands.
When I say "oddball," I mean that Float Islands is typically overshadowed by the rest of the glorious music found in Kirby games. It's one of the first songs you hear in Kirby Super Star, yet that game's general orchestra boom steals the show. A secret arrangement is found in Kirby Air Ride, but everyone was too busy playing City Trial and its anime-ripped OST accompaniment. We even witness an interesting techno remix in Kirby Canvas Curse, but alas, I was too absorbed in the Rainbow Resort one to notice.
And yet despite all that, Float Islands is perhaps tied with Green Greens as my favorite song in the title that started it all: Kirby's Dream Land. Whereas Green Greens embodies heartwarming nostalgia, Float Islands is a distant reflection. You're sitting down in the kitchen chair staring out the window one early summer morning, and just like that, memories from what was a lifetime ago gradually slink back. The fragmented memories of a forgotten puppet-based television show. That one road trip from when you were seven. The time you clutched your favorite Sesame Street blanket as your mom rocked you to sleep.
Dreamy.
I once described the Ripple Field theme from Kirby's Dream Land 3 conjures the visual of a resolute chase. You're running down a beach that holds the key to your past, eyes scanning the area for familiar landmarks or structures to satisfy your quench for knowledge. Float Islands is the antithesis--there is no mad dash, for that individual is already content with life. He or she's slowly pacing across the ocean, eying the eternal blue as the wind tickles their cheeks.
I wonder which person I am? I've definitely dabbled into both; at the moment, I'd like to think I'm the latter. I've got great family, a wonderfully supportive English department at school, a great internship, and am constantly challenging myself through writing. Yet there was definitely a time I'd have done anything to get my past back, and if you told me I had to run down a beach to do so, I wouldn't have hesitated.
I don't miss being a teenager, that's for sure.
What about you? If that's a bit too personal of a question, then here's an interesting piece of trivia that blew my mind a couple years back. Doesn't the part at 0:22 sound familiar? That's right, it happens to be the inspiration for this famously chill Kirby song!
...or it might be more famously chill to Smash fans. You decide!
Even those we deem to be most ordinary hide the most profound secrets, don't they?
Final Thoughts: So apparently all the songs from Kirby's Dream Land are in Super Smash Bros. for 3DS via the sound test and Smash Run. Beating up Bulborbs and Starmen to this is gonna be surreal. And chill, yeah.
Notice: while this is part of my Ten Years of Kirby retrospective, this review does not meet my current quality standards and will be superseded in the future. A link to the new version will be provided whenever it arrives.
Following the incredible success of 1993's Kirby's Adventure, our favorite pink puffball was making quite the name for himself. Immediately after the game's launch, Masahiro Sakurai got to work on a Game Boy spin-off by the name of Kirby's Pinball Land, a quirky pinball titlethat perfectly emulated the frantic nature of its platforming cousins. Released late within the same year, Pinball Land had no trouble riding the cash flow and established itself firmly into the gold-adorned "Player's Choice" label, granted to Nintendo titles that sold over a million copies. In the blink of an eye, a new star had rose in Nintendo's pantheon of heroes.
Having crafted three Kirby games in such quick succession, Sakurai seemed content to briefly lend the reigns to other members of HAL Laboratory while pursuing plans for an SNES title. The ensuing period from 1994-1998 introduced a deluge of spin-offs, beginning with the fan-favorite Kirby's Dream Course. Its eccentric golf-esque adventures aside, the game provided a valuable insight to HAL in that the Kirby brand was truly malleable thanks to the character's Copy Ability, and he could seamlessly ease himself into just about any genre of gaming. Dream Course proved to be particularly interesting considering that the game originally didn't feature Kirby at all, having initially been developed as a miniature golf game of sorts.
Collaborative efforts with other companies were also underway to further establish the new brand, albeit intended for a Western audience.Through some creative re-visioning by HAL and Compile, the SNES version of the cult classic puzzler Puyo Puyo was adapted into a Kirby title by the name of Kirby's Avalanche. The changes were completely cosmetic: the characters and settings were all culled from the series and rearranged songs from Kirby's Adventure supplied its soundtrack. Meanwhile, a little-known prequel named Kid Kirby was headed by DMA Design (which eventually began Rockstar North, creators of Grand Theft Auto) for the purpose of utilizing the SNES Mouse, but the project was quietly cancelled due to the peripheral's gradual irrelevance.
With Sakurai busy on his 16-bit adventure and endless spin-offs filling in the gap, HAL perhaps felt a new adventure was necessary to tide fans over. A new team was established for the creation of a Game Boy title, headed by the man responsible for the level design of Kirby's Adventure. Shinichi Shimomura was assigned his directorial debut for what was to be the sequel to the best-selling Kirby's Dream Land. Simply named Kirby's Dream Land 2, the game proved to replicate much of the original's success and even outsold the original's tales in native Japan. Mr. Shimomura would go on to direct two more games within the franchise, setting what fans dub the "Dark Matter Trilogy" (in reference to the evil black mass that serves as the antagonist for the three games). The games within this trilogy (Dream Land 2, Kirby's Dream Land 3, and Kirby 64: The Crystal Shards) are noted for being a tad slower than the typical hyperactivity found within Kirby, of which more than several fans could never quite adjust to despite the various gameplay quirks found within.
While I can't say I bear this ill will towards the latter two games of the trilogy, Kirby's Dream Land 2 remains the one title within the whole series I can never quite pin my feelings on, for it is the Kirby game I love with a broken heart.
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Kirby's Dream Land 2 was something of a forbidden enigma from the very beginning of my Kirby fanhood; that is to say, I could never find the game anywhere. I found copies of Kirby's Adventure and Kirby Super Star in stores (R.I.P. Funcoland), and, er, "acquired" other Kirby games via the internet, but searches for Deram Land 2 proved fruitless. Yes, believe it or not, even scavenging through the endless, pirated troves of the web failed to produce even one functioning result, and I was forced to give up my search empty-handed.
It was rather frustrating too, as the game was hailed as something of a classic by Kirby fans. Dream Land 2 continually charted high on Top Kirby/Game Boy game lists, the bigger-than-life Kirby's Rainbow Resort fanpage gushed about it, and Kirby discussions on message boards mentioned how difficult it was for a Kirby title. The only dissenter? Some crazy lady on Gamefaqs who couldn't stop talking about hyenas. Somewhere within the jumbled mess that was her criticism was the bemoaning of how dumbed-down the gameplay was following Adventure, right down to the shrunken world hubs and lack of content. I was too distracted by the hyenas to listen.
When I finally got the chance to play it some five years later, I couldn't believe she was actually right. What made it hurt even worse was that I actually requested it as a gift following a major foot reconstruction surgery, and nothing about Dream Land 2 sparked a tinge of excitement in me. And for all my disappointment, I couldn't pin down as to why the game sucked. It played like Kirby, it sounded like Kirby, it was the first Kirby to introduce the beloved animal partner system (more on that in a bit), I didn't chalk it up to a change in tastes, either; Kirby's Adventure came out on the Virtual Console around the same time and I still had a blast. I went back and gave Dream Land 2 more than enough chances to redeem itself, as the years went by with remakes and yarn adventures. I walked away every time crestfallen, drugged with boredom. And the worst part of it was that I couldn't come up with a discernable answer as to why I couldn't enjoy it.
It was only last year when the Dream Collection arrived that I finally forced myself to chug all the way through the damn thing, and you know something? I jumped the gun a little. Kirby's Dream Land 2 is a good game. It's a genuine game. It's a fun game! But I struggle in deeming it a great one, and I cannot lie to the rest of the internet crowd and say it ranks among Kirby's best, for it all boils down to why the game turned me off initially.
No, it's not the lesser scale following Kirby'sAdventure. With the Game Boy being a much weaker system than the NES, I have no choice but to be lenient on that front. And besides, it's not like I can complain when it brings back the hub worlds from Adventure. Despite starting off with three levels per world, it quickly ramps up the number to about six or seven; in other words, a perfectly healthy amount for the Game Boy.
Nor do I mind the halved amount of Copy Abilities. Only a fraction of Kirby's powers return from Adventure (Fire, Spark, Cutter, Needle, Stone, Ice, and Parasol), but what's here is actually improved from their original forms. No longer does Spark cause immense slowdown, and Stone has the cool side-effect of rolling down sloped hills! And hey, I can't be completely disinterested when they brought back my beloved Parasol. And, and, and the animal partners!
Yeah, those guys are pretty rad. Marking the first appearance of Rick the Hamster, Coo the Owl, and Kine the Fish, these three friends of Kirby serve as a unique conduit for the hero's powers when caught for a ride. For example, using Spark while clutched by Coo's talons lets the duo conjure thunderbolts onto the hapless baddies below, soaring through the air all the while. Meanwhile, Rick wrecks havoc on the ground when transformed into a rolling Stone, forcing Kirby to perform a balancing act as they crush everything in their way.
And as for Kine's take on the Parasol? He just kinda, uh, sticks it out of his mouth. Whatever, he gets points for effort.
Obviously the selling point of the game, the animal partners offer the perfect compromise for the lack of Copy Abilities. Yes, the more unique stuff like Laser and Ball are missed, but who cares when you're riding a fire-breathing hamster? Much like the introduction of Yoshi in Super Mario World, the animal partners channel an alternative sense of power into the player through their optional status. Do you have to use them? Well, no, but considering how they morph Kirby's Copy Abilities into such exciting superpowers, why wouldn't you?
This begs the question: how can I go wrong with this? If the core concept of Kirby gameplay is handled relatively well, why should I have a problem with it? If I can accept limitations, then what's the big deal? Hell, if I get to ride on a hamster, why so much apprehension in naming it a great Kirby, then?
The big problem with Dream Land 2 is this: the level design composing the first third of the game is utter shit.
I say this knowing full well that stage design has never been Kirby's forte, but I have yet to encounter any other 2D action-adventure title within Nintendo's legacy with early levels sobanal, so devoid of lifethat deriving any form of entertainment from them is near impossible. Save for an occasional widened level scope, nothing within the first two worlds showcase even a speck of intelligence behind its obstacle placement, simply choosing to sparsely decorate landscapes with trademark tiered hills and the steep slope here and there.
This is where the unfortunate downgrades following Adventure begin to negatively impact the game; in particular, the lack of a dash input for Kirby is the spring-point for Dream Land 2's initially sluggish nature. While Dream Land had the same control issue, it was an acceptable compromise for the exchange of chaotic level design and frantic enemy mobs. Strip away those factors, and we're left with nothing but a dreadfully slow bore. Enemies crawl along at a snail's pace and the brain-dead level design erases any caution pitfalls present.
Dammit, even the aesthetic settings pisses me off! Gone are the alliterative food inspired days of Adventure's Vegetable Valley and Orange Ocean, for Dream Land 2 plops us straight off into the offensively bland Grass Land. And you know, maybe I'd be able to forgive such an uninspired location if it was just limited to the first world, but I can't really do that. And why's that? Because the game won't let me, as its segue into the next world creates quite possibly the worst sense of level progression I have ever seen in a game. You know how most platforming games often start out with a grassland and then move on to a desert or a beach or something? Well, Dream Land 2 has its own perfect antithesis to this:
A forest. That's right. The first two worlds are entirely dedicated to a grass field and a forest. Are you fucking kidding me? That these are next-door biomes is bad enough, but you know what's even worse? It's that the game invests absolutely zero effortto distinguish them from each other. I'm not even kidding! Other than the occasional branch platform and, uh, blockades of Star Boxes, the Big Forest is little more than a mere palette swap of Grass Land. They both entirely take place outdoors instead of initiating any transitional scenery. Both worlds have only one screen where you move up instead of going right. Both are entirely ass.
When arriving at any such relative point in any other bad game, it is at this point that any player worth their salt in gaming knowledge has already accepted the bitter truth: there is no hope. If a game fails to present any form of appealing hook at its beginning, why continue? Dream Land 2 is a tad more of a dire case in this regard, for the first two worlds are so vapid in design, so lethargic in movement and tedious in its sense of progress that there is no incentive to discover what lies beyond. Not even the gimmicks of Rick the Hamster and Coo the Owl can suppress the boredom, as Dream Land 2 seems destined for failure.
And that is the miracle of Kirby'sDream Land 2.
It is in the the next world, the watery Ripple Fields, where it's as if the game designers suddenly had an epiphany regarding 2-D platforming design: if a game desires to present interesting levels, it requires level-oriented obstacles and to engage the player. Dream Land 2 is quick to take this lesson to heart, and begins to present obstructions in spades, whether it's stripped right from Adventure (spikes that litter the floor and exploding coconuts rain that down on Kirby) or through its own volition (turbulent currents gushing out of deep-sea pipes).
From this point on, Dream Land 2 ushers in a landslide of quality, and it's as if the game is figuring out one logical equation of successful level design after the other. For example, while keeping the player on their toes with deadly coconuts is all well and good, focusing entirely on a single environmental motif (grassland, desert, forest, etc.) within an entire world gets boring rather quickly. Dream Land 2's solution to its previous screw-ups? Pitch-black caves (of which are cleverly illuminated through Kine's Spark power) and exciting underwater sections in the depths of Red Mountain. And by "exciting", I mean holy shit you better have Kirby stuffed inside Kine's mouth because otherwise you'll be at the mercy of those aforementioned current-spewing pipes.
The game isn't afraid to ape Adventure through levels built around Copy Abilities, but the best parts are when Dream Land 2 goes on to establish new tropes for the series. The game isn't clever enough to entirely create original 2-D platforming tropes, but its early age is the key. Dream Land and Adventure could only cover so much within their brief sugar rushes, which leaves all the more room for Dream Land 2 to pick up the slack. Frustrating scrolling screens of death? Check. Collapsing platforms? Check. An entire world based on icy traction that's compounded upon by precision-based jumps and weather effects? Check. Cleverly hidden mystical trinkets that are required to fight an insanely difficult final boss? Yikes.
This is all a long way of saying: man, does this game get brutal! I mean, the bountiful harvest of 1-ups do a great job of not applying any pressure onto the player, but that doesn't make it any less frustrating to endure. You remember how Super Mario Bros.: The Lost Levels was fond of abnormally small platforms that stood erect within bottomless pits? Yeah, Dream Land 2 has some of those lying around. Don't even get me started on the enemy swarms; actually, no, the less said about the above flying bag with the split personality disorder, the happier I'll be. Better hold on to your animal buddies tight, because they have a nasty
penchant for kidnapping them for reasons of pure evil that are never disclosed.
Yet for all its difficulty, for all of its struggles in learning level design, Dream Land 2 achieves what should be impossible for a game of its caliber. With such clear evidence of the developers learning the ropes of game design throughout the title's progress, there's no chance of of the game. And yet, it does. In preparation for the endgame, all the stops are pulled to produce one of the very best moments in all of Kirby: the Cloudy Park segment.
The best stages of 2-D platforming will always be the ones that surprise, challenge, and entrance the player, but how exactly do you define what's created from those three? The answers often lie in what are the simplest of solutions, yet are the easiest to flub up in design; for example, there could be a form of external pressure suddenly pushing against the player (such as gusts of wind or bursts of water), thus leading to creative scenarios such as navigating mazes or exposing weakspots within the terrain. But how can it be made so the player isn't frustrated through what they perceive to be cheap deaths and faulty controls? Cloudy Park is representative of this philosophy executed perfectly. Air currents of all kinds push Kirby through tight mazes of clouds and platforms, yet not once does the player lose control of the character. When they're introduced as tough segments of a level, they're constructed around the quick timing of the player to destroy or dodge obstacles in satisfying fashion. When presented as aesthetic forms of transition, they serve as dreamy visual pieces that embrace the player fully into its world. It's a perfect balance.
And the music. While unfortunately the game's soundtrack (composed by series regular Hirokazu Ando and newcomer Tadashi Ikegami) is largely uninteresting and bland, this sticks out along with Coo's Theme as being abnormal masterpieces. While every bit as nostalgic as the lullaby of Adventure's Rainbow Resort, Cloudy Park takes on a more elaborate note of easing the player into the world's majesty. It doesn't need the booming of an orchestra to produce the awe of approaching the title's finale, but simply a tad more activity and sentimentality to help the player reflect on just how far they've come. When I first heard this song last year, I found myself absorbed in a reverie not quite unlike those Super Star and Adventure/Nightmare in Dream Land had trapped me within so long ago. I was a kid again.
The game even ends in the vein of a classic. After slaying what may very be the most grueling final boss in all of Kirby, the tiny sprite of Kirby lets go of the Rainbow Sword and slowly closes his eyes, descending to Pop Star. Various stills of his animal friends are shown, patiently waiting his return. King Dedede gazes up towards the sky and smiles, having been freed of his nightmarish possession. The power of sprite animation has been proven time and time again, and this one scene alone depicts a gracefully silent side of Kirby we've never seen before, nor since.
...so what just happened? What the fuck just happened? This is not normal. Games don't suddenly bounce up from the realm of shit just like that. I spent years thinking this game was an failure! Years! And it was all because the first two words had to present the most dismal, lifeless examples of level design I have ever seen in a 2D platforming game. I have to suffer through this shit every time I make a new file! Could I just go back and play my old one? Well, yeah, but do I really want to pretend I'm starting a new game at world three? What kind of sense does that make? I'm the kind of guy who loves replaying old games just for that heightened achievement of beating the shit out everything it has to offer, just to celebrate its whole as a complete, cohesive package. I'm fresh out of luck, don't you see?!? Fucked, that's what I am!
I'm sorry, excuse my outburst. I know all the crap I threw just now at Dream Land 2 isn't entirely justified to the game's entirety, but it just pisses me off just like how this summer's abhorrent Game & Wario did. See, as much as the likes of Zelda: Skyward Sword and Paper Mario: Sticker Star offended me, I consider Game & Wario a truly tragic piece of virtual entertainment because the presentation and humor involved proves the guys behind it still have it (check out this Kotaku article to see what I mean). The unlockable videos and trinkets are gold! The exaggerated artwork for each minigame is a hysterical throwback to the cover-art for NES games! Yet I can't enjoy this stuff for even a moment because they're shackled to an unbelievably shitty game devoid of any inspiration behind its gameplay ideas (save for the Gamer title, which only makes me wish for a return to the original WarioWare formula).
Kirby's Dream Land 2 is in the same boat. This article has proven the people behind the title have actual talent, yet why does the beginning of the game open with shit? Is this a joke? Are we supposed to believe the designers just suddenly learned how to make a game halfway through? Why couldn't they just go back and patch up the earlier levels, then? You know what? Maybe Dream Land 2 didn't really have a miracle at all. The first two worlds are complete shit on purpose; in other words, they were dumbed down just enough to ensure the brainless beginner can get past the first couple of worlds for a sense of accomplishment.
With the exception of Squeak Squad, just about every other Kirby game proves this mentality wrong. You don't have to remove any sense of danger and strip levels out of any unique design just to hook a beginner. It boggles the mind that Dream Land and Adventure would have zero problems with this, yet suddenly this game does? Yeah, Sakurai didn't work on this one, but you'd think the guy behind Adventure's levels would get the hint regardless. Or maybe it was just that it was his first time as director? Who knows.
Look, I like this game, I really do. I dig that second half, and if the rest of the game followed its example, it could be one of my Kirby favorites. But being baited does not a great game make, and I don't wish to suffer through tedium just to get to the good parts. Kirby's Dream Land 2 is ultimately a worthwhile video game with some notable talent and ingenuity behind it, but it just misses that cusp of greatness.
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Welp, over a month and a half! Much better than missing three straight months, no? I've recently gotten my procrastination under control, so I think you'll be seeing me much quicker next time around. I'll be back soon with a new review, new entry in this series, and FINALLY the beginning to the Top 25 Wii games! Seeya!
Notice: while this is part of my Ten Years of Kirby retrospective, this review does not meet my current quality standards and will be superseded in the future. A link to the new version will be provided whenever it arrives.
Having barely survived from the effects of liquidation, video game developer HAL Laboratories was roped into exclusive development for Nintendo systems. While they enjoyed minor success in dipping across numerous platforms (their most notable franchise being the Adventures of Lolo puzzle series on the NES), the developer split from HAL Corporation following declining sales, and thus found itself unable to pay off taxes. Nintendo, which had previously invested in the company, stepped in with the offer to provide financial support with two conditions: that not only would all of their future games would be developed just for Nintendo consoles, but that up-and-coming programming prodigy Satoru Iwata be moved up the corporate ladder into a supervising role.
In charge of overseeing new programmers, one in particular caught Iwata's eye. This individual, Masahiro Sakurai, had been doodling plans for a new character since the age of 19, and was clearly eager to start his own project. Seeing potential in the youth's concept, Iwata allowed Sakurai to direct his first title for Nintendo's portable Game Boy. Initially titled Twinkle Popo, one of Sakurai's test designs for the game's character was used as a beta placeholder until a more elaborate design was ready. This "dummy" figure, named Popopo, was fabricated from the simplest of concepts: a short, rounded marshmallow-esque body with pudgy little arms and big, clown-like feet, whose facial features consisted of tiny, dotted eyes and the faintest of blushed cheeks.
Whether it was the character's beady eyes or his aforementioned clown feet, Sakurai's design team quickly grew to love the adorable dummy and trashed all plans for a more complicated character. However, they felt the Popopo name didn't quite stick.
Shigeru Miyamoto, creator of Super Mario Bros. and The Legend of Zelda, assisted with the naming process and ultimately helped the character find a final name. Some years earlier, lawyer John Kirby had helped Nintendo overcome a lawsuit from Universal Studios overthe alleged infringement over the Donkey Kong name. By pure coincidence, the name "Kirby" had appeared on a list of suggested names, and Miyamoto thought it would be amusing if the two shared a connection; furthermore, he found it further humorous that the name produced a harsh sound in Japanese ("Kaabi"), as many cute characters in Japan are typically labelled with soft-sounding names.
The name was set. The game was renamed Hoshi no Kaabi ("Kirby of the Stars") and was eventually released in April 1992 for Japan, being eventually localized to the American market as Kirby's Dream Land later that summer.
And the rest is history.
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Kirby's Dream Land, despite its underdog origins and composition, was a smash-hit for Nintendo's portable system. One can imagine this success was quite the surprise for Sakurai, who had no intentions of any mainstream success. He instead directed a humble focus for the game, squarely aiming it only for the budding gamer. Kirby could float indefinitely all the way to the area's end, and levels were quick and breezy to the point where Dream Land could be completed within a mere half-hour. But why make a game so easy? In a conversation with Dragon Quest producer Ryutaro Ichimura, he explains:
"No matter how much fun the Super Mario Bros.
games were, they were still too tough for normal people and kids. I
could feel people drifting away from games, and it bothered me. In the
midst of making Kirby, a lot of the team started wondering if we were
maybe making it too simple. But I think it was necessary for us to
consider people who hadn't played a game before, and I think doing that
earned us fans that wouldn't have been around otherwise."
Sakurai ended up being right. For all its simplicity, the quirky concept of a walking blob innocently swallowing bad guys quickly caught on with gamers. Beginners, particularly young children, had discovered a niche crafted especially for them, and they reveled in in it with great glee. No longer did the deceptively affable likes of Super Mario and Sonic the Hedgehog bully them into pit-ridden level designs and dangerous traps, as there was now a funny little character who could fly around forever and ate candy and devoured the innocent. Even experienced gamers found themselves strangely charmed by this miniscule addition to the Nintendo universe, and a new profitable franchise was born.
With the game's immense success, there should be no doubt that it would be immortalized forever in the history of famous video games. After all, Dream Land gave birth to what would eventually become one of Nintendo's most well-known franchises. Sure, it's no Pokemon or Zelda, but Kirby's first outing reported to have sold five million copies; if true, it would be easily the best selling Kirby game by over three million. That's kind of a big jump, especially since the game reached the five million mark. While setting a million copy mark is usually regarded as a huge success for most anyone else, in terms of Nintendo games that's actually an ordinary number, and most Kirby games knock out one or two million copies. For Dream Land to have reached five times the former means it must be something special, right?
Well, get this: no one ever talks about it. Ever! Isn't that crazy? It is when you compare it to the first entries in the rest of Nintendo's famous catalogue. Everyone still loves Super Mario Bros. and Donkey Kong Country. The Pokemon Red and Blue versions are so beloved by the nostalgic 90's crowd to the point where they refuse to play the new games (looking at you, cousin Tommy). Even when the most ardent of Zelda and Metroid fans admit to struggling (even to point of being unimpressed!) with the NES originals, they are still often noted as some of the greatest games ever made. So why isn't Kirby's Dream Land's name spoken with the same awe and love?
Maybe it's not that far-fetched of a situation. I believe that while there's no overt reason for the game's obscurity, there are multiple, more subtle factors that perhaps sullied its reputation. For example, Dream Land can be justly compared to F-Zero and Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon and the Blade of Light in that while they aren't bad games, the deeper mechanics and flashy splendor of the later titles render them less attractive. In the case of Dream Land, however, this is more of a severe problem. While Shadow Dragon and F-Zero are outclassed--both graphically and mechanically--by the likes of, say, Blazing Sword and F-Zero GX, there's more than enough meat to chew on in their NES/SNES predecessors should the curious Nintendo fanatic be willing to take a chance.
In comparison, Dream Land offers no such meat; rather, it's the lightest of impulsive snacks. In case you were wondering, I really wasn't kidding earlier when I mentioned that the game is beatable within a half-hour's time. It consists of four complete levels--of which contain a minimum of three screens and maybe six or seven at most--and a climax stage involving a retread with the previous four bosses and a showdown with the gluttonous penguin King Dedede.
Cue credits.
Compounding upon the short length is the issue of Kirby's famous Copy Ability, in which he obtains the powers of the enemies he swallows. While Kirby had an hungry appetite from the start, nowhere in Dream Land is his mimicry to be seen; indeed, it would not be until Kirby's Adventure a year later where this magical feat would see the light of day. As the series would continue to establish creative ways to build upon this mechanic, Dream Land's comparatively neutered state became more and more obvious. While the concept of inhaling one's foes is novel enough, that it's stranded in a sea of lively superpowers---with some sightings of yarn, paint brushes, and clones here and there--strips its quality into a more bland state.
Of course, this shouldn't just be exclusive to those who haven't played Dream Land. After all, I did witness my first-year college roommate play through the game via a ROM while I was busy being impaled in Skyrim, and he had shared memories of it too. But that was a rare exception, and I think it only further proves my point. People have played it, yeah, there's just not much to say about it. Why talk about a short-lived platformer when one could elaborate at length about the meaty wonders of Kirby's Adventure or Kirby Super Star, or the bombastic mix-'em-upstyle of Kirby 64, or pretty much anything in Canvas Curse and Return to Dream Land?
The other reason is more personal in that, alas, I also have contributed to this issue. It all boils to down to the existence of 1996's Kirby Super Star, and while I can hardly be found at fault to play through a gaming masterpiece, it is the very reason why I was indifferent to playing Dream Land. You see, Super Star is composed of a compilation of sub-games, the very first of which happens to be an abridged remake of Dream Land by the name of "Spring Breeze". What was once a total of five stages is now four, as the Castle Lololo stage is merged with Float Islands (with the Kaboola airship boss axed from the game). The final stage zips straight to the King Dedede fight instead of revisiting bosses. The term "abridged" even extends to Dream Land's unique features, as Kirby can no longer utilize the items strewn about the levels.
But why should he when he now has access to the Copy Ability? As Super Star emerged in an era where it was the staple feature of Kirby games, this slight retcon to Kirby's first adventure was no doubt much appreciated by the fanbase. With each new console adventure/spin-off--as well as a Game Boy sequel--it became clear that a gradual focus of attention was lavished on the flexible Copy Ability; in contrast, the original Dream Land quickly become antiquated, and Dream Land's Spring Breeze instantly rendered it obsolete. Yes, they did cut a bit of content here and there, but what is there to miss in a half-hour adventure when you have the
From my ten year old perspective (the dawn of 2002), it was a bit different. I perceived Spring Breeze as the story of how Kirby came to control his transformative prowess and saved Dream Land for the first time. For what was such a short-lived sub-game, I imagined numerous scenarios that revolved around said prowess, such as how Kirby honed his powers under the guidance of a mysterious voice, or how the Whispy Woods tree boss wasn't actually a boss at all, but was instead an innocent friend of Kirby's imprisoned by an evil doppelganger that was slain by Kirby's Fire ability. As fueling a young imagination was once a high priority, there wasn't really a need for me to seek out a version that wasn't really compatible with that. Yes, my little Nintendo scholar-minded self still recognized Dream Land as Kirby's introduction, but that was really all I viewed it as: an introduction, and I'm sure many other fans recognize it only as such.
Frick, I'll admit it: I still struggle with this. For those old enough, you know how Pluto isn't considered a planet anymore but your mind instantly rebels to that fact? It's the same deal here. I've played so much of Kirby Super Star that the Spring Breeze introduction is, for better or worse, stubbornly solidified for me as Kirby's initial adventure. Yes, I'm aware it lasts all for ten minutes.Yes, the length is woefully short even when juxtaposed to a Game Boy title. Yes, yes, I know, they cut out an entire level along with a boss. I get it. It could, and should, be considered inferior, and given how harsh I typically am with Nintendo remakes I would normally bash the shit out of Spring Breeze for committing these crimes. And I'm not! I'm biased!
If I'm conveying the impression that Dream Land should be dismissed, don't fall for it. It doesn't deserve such a fate. It's a good game. It's a quality game. It's just one that's, sadly, been outclassed by many of its successors. That, and I'm biased and am therefore unqualified to review the game all because I can't wrap my head around the fact that my own little perception of what falls under Kirby canon has absolutely no bearing and would not hold any sort of water in any form of Kirby-related debates. And this is all because my ten year old self had nothing better do and decided to mercilessly pound it into his skull to the point where it became a matter I take more seriously than raging politics and whatever the hell's going on in the Middle East, that bastard.
...but woe is to biased writer who had resigned himself to reviewing every Kirby title for the year, so I suppose I must make do with what I have. That, and I guess the whole canon thing doesn't really matter since I think the "official" Zelda timeline unveiled a year or two back is complete shit (Link dies? Really?), so screw what Nintendo thinks. Onward!
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So, what exactly propels Kirby's first adventure? Well, it just so happens that King Dedede, the self-proclaimed ruler and resident douchebag of Dream Land, spontaneously decides to dabble into the latter one night and initiates a heist of the highest proportions: robbing the entire food supply of his home country with the help of his goons. And because he enjoys being such an asshat, he decides to make matters worse by stealing the Sparkling Stars--of which guides the Dream Landers in finding food--and divides them among his buddies (Whispy Woods the tree, globular siblings Lololo and Lalala, female blimp Kaboola, and Kracko the stormcloud). Consequently, the citizens wake up hungry and severely dehydrated, ready to croak until a puffball named Kirby eagerly vows to get the food/stars and sets off to score some copies of Shaq Fu and troll My Little Pony fanboys at conventions.
PG-13 embellishments/obscure references aside, while video games were at the cusp of incorporating half-decent storytelling, no one bothered to attempt doing so on the Game Boy, and Kirby's Dream Land was no exception. Of course, that a game is light on story-telling elements isn't really a big deal; in fact, should such a game enchant players, it's not uncommon to an abundance of fan theories and re-interpretations of events via fan fiction/message board musings.
...that, and let it be known that Spring Breeze's brainwashing made absolutely no mention of Sparkling Stars. Even though they were still there and made Kirby into a giant balloon at the end. NONE!
But, yes, the gameplay! That Kirby lacks the Copy Ability is unfortunate, but one must remember to enjoy it purely within its own, however short-lived, context. When isolated, the abnormal concept of swallowing bad guys is still innovative enough to make for an enjoyable platformer. While the pacing is noticeably different from the frantic acrobatics of Super Mario (more on that later), in regards to the pantheon of Kirby games I would actually argue that Dream Land's action sequences comfortably sit within the middle tier of Kirby level design despite its compact nature. Dream Land 2 simplified things a little too much (particularly early on), Amazing Mirror's Metroid influences were a tad too distracting for my tastes, and the less said about Squeak Squad, the happier I'll be. That this was the only Kirby to feature devastating items for Kirby to utilize until 2011's Return to Dream Land lends it a quality all on its own, but like the best Kirby games, the levels quickly transition from scenery to scenery without pause, and numerous scenarios are instant classics From traversing a tree's inside within Green Greens to the shooting star hallway in Bubbly Clouds right down to the freaky Kirby doppelgangers found in King Dedede's castle, the chaotic visuals pepper Dream Land with a sort of insanity not commonly found in the series.
The Castle Lololo stage--the one absent from Spring Breeze--is the notable representative of this disorder, and all it takes to realize that is taking a gander at the screenshot above. Upon entering, the player immediately stumbles across a microphone that, while can only be used once, produces a horrendous screech that explodes everyone in the vicinity. Shaped as a vertical hall, the room reveals several entrances that lead to unique pathways, of which lead to further doors and rooms within the castle. Lather, rinse, repeat. Yet the stage's chaos plays to its strength. Some doors simply lead to arduous hallways with armies of goons, while others lead to explosive weapons (none the least of which is the fiery Superspicy Curry, of which Smash Bros. fans will no doubt recognize) and tasty treats that recover vitality. The visuals also aid in creating an air of chaos, what with disturbing heads convulsing around the room and floating masks that stalk Kirby. Oh, and obvious nods to Super Mario World's ghost houses, that too.
To elaborate more on this front, a reminder must be set in that there is no denying that Kirby games are aimed at children, and an analysis of Dream Land benefits the most out of the whole series from this perspective. A young mind wouldn't be foolish enough to label the game an epic, but is intrigued enough by all the chaotic, cartoonish antics involving the spontaneous enemies, the shifting nature of the levels, and destructive curry to keep playing over and over.
I suppose that's part of what made the game appealing to both audiences. The game emphasizes replayability with its short length, and by that I don't just mean playing it over after completion, but through trial and error. I doubt every child breezed through the game as easily as others, as bosses such as Kracko and Kaboola bear erratic attack patterns that tend to frequently encompass the entire screen (no, really, Kaboola is one of the few Kirby bosses I still encounter struggles with. I am so glad she is radically underused). In the event of a game over, Dream Land's short length assures the young player will be back for more very soon, allowing them to frequently memorize enemy/boss movements until they've finally triumphed.
Moreover, Dream Land's focus on the child is successful in that instills a sense of empowerment. I still remember back when I was seven/eight and, being inspired by my brother's claim of having completed thirty games, strove to surpass that count and kept record of how many game completions I had under my belt. I imagine the short length of Dream Land would have appealed greatly to me in the purpose of being a easy pass, and I'm certain that rang true for many other children; that is, even if they didn't possess the same ambitions as I did or were even that good of a player.
Of course, Dream Land's "beginner" theme isn't restricted to its length or level design. Of particular interest is the lack of a run button, which while having the unfortunate side-effect of contributing to the game's archaic nature, makes sense from the developer's viewpoint. The compulsive nature of children means they just run around and scream everywhere, right? Translating such an attitude to electronic hand-eye coordination often results in sloppy movement that has a penchant for falling into bottomless pits; that, or dashing at breakneck speeds with no sense of control or planning, often with the same end result. I wouldn't be surprised if this was the basis for Sakurai's decision to make Kirby games function at a slower pace than Mario, and he went the extra mile into telling the child to slow down and take their time. This is the one great thing I believe is still relevant from Dream Land, although more so in that nearly every Kirby game since has followed its play model (while the ability to dash was brought back in Adventure--adding a touch of flavor to its sugar rush nature--no complex form of platforming were to be found).
But even then it's not just how it plays. So much of it, I think, has to do the game's atmosphere. The Hello Kitty meets Candy Land approach is something that should instantly turn off anyone over the age of six, and yet the aesthetics and characters of Dream Land, what with the cloudy kingdoms, parasol-wielding foes, and little blob witches sweeping the level grounds with brooms, are all so infectious that's tremendously easy to get wrapped up in it all. I guess it's because even though it's constructed with a cutesy-poo nature, it's not interested in being condescending like many forms of children's entertainment. It's just concerned with creating a comfortable experience, and anyone's invited to play.
I mean, really. Just stare at the wonderful beauty that is Broom Hatter. Truly a worthy candidate for the next Smash Bros.
And an infectious atmosphere requires the presence of an equally infectious soundtrack. Now, it wasn't uncommon for Game Boy music to consist of tinny, screechy nonsense (i.e. Metroid II), but Dream Land's compositions--however cheery and loud they are--are created with an unusual upbeat expression of a children's fairy tale. Composed by Jun Ishikawa (who, along with several others, become the series mainstay), such a style was seemingly born to play on 8-bit hardware, as evidenced through the continued success of the score found in Kirby's Adventure. If anything, it should be praised alone for introducing the Green Greens and King Dedede themes, of which would constantly reprise throughout the franchise. Featured above, however, is the sole agent of repose and what I consider to be the game's most nostalgic tune: the Float Islands.
...that, and the boss music. Kirby tends to dabble into some dark music now and then (see Kirby 64), yet I don't think I've ever heard anything so chillingly foreboding in the series. Very surprised this hasn't made a rearranged comeback.
Yet, advocating Dream Land's graphical charm and music is something one can gush about for any future game in the series, right? You have orchestrated tracks and crayon aesthetics and yarn-stitched worlds and techno and all that good stuff later on. No matter how many excuses I can come up with, it all boils down to that damn length! Just like I was, people are content with playing the little remake in Super Star and don't want to bother with an ancient Game Boy title. As much as the game leans on it, replayability can only get you so far, I suppose.
So, what is there then?
If I already haven't made it clear/implied it enough, then I'm going to be honest in saying that the game's size doesn't really bother me. For what seems like a blasphemous length today or even back then, the idea of citing brevity as a detriment towards Dream Land is, strangely, just as equally blasphemous. Not that because doing so would counter my worship of Sakurai's approaches to gaming, but it seems unjust to rail against something geared towards newcomers. For what it's supposed to be, the game works well enough. The swallowing mechanic is fun, the level design is professional and full of character, and the replayability is wonderful should it suck the player in. Let it also be clear, however, that Dream Land being a game for newcomers does not
exclude it from criticism, and I'm of the opinion that one could certainly criticize it on that front, but I can only detect maybe only one or two flaws. While I am fine without the addition of the
run button, I can't say the same for the lack of a proper swimming
function for Kirby. I'm not kidding, it's literally just the same
walking animation, albeit slowed down a tad. While it's obviously due to
the lack of water-traversing sequences, it is painfully awkward to
control and not in any sense of the word "enjoyable."
If I am given another reason to defend length, I point to only one factor: the Extra Mode. Let it be known that I'm not particularly well-versed in the realm of hard mode, as I'm of the opinion that a game's default/"normal" difficulty represents the developer's vision. While I don't mind dipping in for a challenge after an initial playthrough (with the exception of my recent forays in Kingdom Hearts: Birth by Sleep and Dream Drop Distance, having previously been burnt out on the franchise thanks tothe series' second iterationand its braindead design choices), I've always perceived it as post-game content; in fact, that's what the Kirby games typically treat it as in the form of unlockables. While they're typically nothing more than minor nuisances difficulty-wise, they can cough up some cool bonuses.
This is different. The Extra Mode could not have been any more of a polar opposite to its regular counterpart, as it is relentlessly gleeful in its goal of screwing over the player. While perhaps not among the most fiendish of Hard Modes, it is a monster in the realm of Kirby. The chaos found in the normal mode is amplified to the point where swarms of enemies home divebombs on Kirby, or innocently fly past him only to instantly U-turn and ram into him. The coconuts of Float Islands were the only perceptible threat in the normal mode, and now the Shotzo cannons and spiky Gordos are waiting just outside the edge of the screen, waiting to launch themselves onto the player. And now for the perfect example: look up at that screenshot. Look at that tree. Look at that piece of shit. That is Whispy Woods. His main method is attacking is blowing gusts of air at you and making apples fall from his tree. He's defeated when you spit the apples back at him. He is the biggest wimp in all of Kirby. In Extra Mode, he is bloodthirsty. Kirby is left on his toes as wave after wave of the aforementioned Gordos drop from the leaves to puncture him. Hardly any time can be spent picking up apples. It took me over ten times to beat him when I first played this. Ten times to beat a tree. Ten times.
And that is just the first level. The rest is devilish and ruthlessly fast. The experienced gamer is suddenly thankful the game is so short. And what does one get for braving through this torture? Nothing. Oh, Sakurai.
But even then, what else? Are swimming controls all I can ding it for? Can I really not fault the game for being composed of such short length? Here's how I think of it: it's not that Dream Land's length is a flaw, it's just simply not a game applicable to today's generation. The title was developed as a response to what Sakurai perceived as an exodus from gaming due to the infamous high difficulty in games, a situation that has no bearing on the gaming world of today. Difficulty modes have become the norm, game introductions are slogged with forced tutorials, and that's not even bringing up Nintendo's "Super Guide" feature. With just about every game out there trying to ease the player into its experience, the need for a game like Kirby's Dream Land is simply irrelevant. It's not bad, there's not much to, y'know, talk about.
I like Kirby's Dream Land. Can I say I like it a lot? Maybe, if Spring Breeze suddenly ceased to exist. It's just a game I can't get excited about (despite the anomaly that is Extra Mode). And that's not a very bad thing to say at all, as I could point to numerous other games I feel the same way about. It's the perfect game to play for a half-hour break, and there's nothing wrong with that, either. It just has the unfortunate luck of being outdated, and I can't help but wonder that a game with Kirby's Copy Ability would serve as a better introduction. Luckily, I think Kirby's next title fits the bill.
