Ten Years of Kirby ~Reverie 16~ Kirby's Return to Dream Land



I can't. I just can't. Look at the Japanese box art for this game. Look at that glorious Nippon representation of Kirby, and then look upwards for we got for America. I've never felt more insulted by Angry Kirby, and yet I can't go on anymore. Is there any further point in discussing the fallacy of presenting your adorable pink marshmallow as a super bad-ass despite his being an adorable pink marshmallow instantly rendering him, uh, adorable? And that's not even mentioning how much time he spends in the game either smiling or using blank expressions, as he does roughly 70% of the time in nearly every one of his appearances. It's not fair, but I can't go on. I'm spent. Way to go, NOA.

Anyway, like the rest of the industry in Fall 2011, Nintendo was draining the wallets of hapless gamers with a populated release schedule. From the first semi-new Star Fox game in five years in Star Fox 64 3D to the still-popular Mario Kart 7, it was Nintendo's busiest holiday season in over half a decade...and their most acclaimed, at that.

Let us set aside any "real 3D Mario" arguments and my own dismissal of Zelda: Skyward Sword: every member of their holiday 2011 output was a million-seller, captivating the Nintendo gaming public at large, with Star Fox 64 3D paving the way for a series reboot, Mario Kart 7 set to emulate its DS predecessor's sales records, and Super Mario 3D Land and Skyward Sword sweeping perfect/near-perfect scores across the critical board.

Relative to its peers' praise, Kirby's Return to Dream Land sticks out like a sore thumb. As seen on its Metacritic page, the game was in no shortage of criticism directed its way. This came at the surprise of no one: deviations like Canvas Curse and Epic Yarn have always caught the attention of media and gamers alike, while traditional entries tend to be dismissed as safe, far-too-easy affairs regardless of whether or not they've succeeded in maintaining Masahiro Sakurai's original goal for the series: easy to play, hard to master.

In retrospect, it's a miracle Kirby's Return to Dream Land succeeded at this as well as it did; after all, it'd been in development for roughly seven-to-eleven years. Indeed, Return to Dream Land was, more or less, the fabled Kirby GCN game that up and mysteriously disappeared back in 2005, having been relegated to development hell and renovated no less than three different times before HAL Laboratory doubled-down on the final product.

Whatever the reasons were for the games' cancellations (Kirby GCN was vaguely dismissed with an imbalance between solo/multiplayer play), the eleven-year wait for a true-to-form Kirby console game was well worth it, for Kirby's Return to Dream Land was arguably Nintendo's finest 2011 entry.
Such a claim appears heresy in the face of ambitious efforts like Zelda: Skyward Sword, Super Mario 3D Land or even the competition's Elder Scrolls VI: Skyrim, particularly since the game lacks any ambitions of its own.

But that's because it didn't need any, instead staying true to its name by returning to 1996.

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Let us bask in that title for a moment: Kirby's Return to Dream Land. Doesn't that feel so good? And it's not because it bears any context on the game's narrative; after all, that's just the name exclusive to American audiences. No, it's what it stands for the game itself that matters. For all the ups and downs Kirby had over the past decade, he's given the chance to properly return to his roots. Here, there are no more half-baked gimmicks and level design devaluing the brand, no--however successful--ambitious deviations from the tried-and-true formula, and no retreads on beloved adventures of days past.

In other words, it's a return to the Dream Land created so long ago by Mr. Sakurai. He may've not laid a finger on the game's design, but the philosophies from Kirby's Adventure and Kirby Super Star blossom from every design choice: plush aesthetics framed within dreamy fantasy, a plethora of multi-fledged copy abilities, numerous avenues for multiplayer play and content upon content upon content.

If you're paying attention, you'll recognize several of the aforementioned features were exclusive to either Adventure or Super Star. The beauty of Return to Dream Land is that it's not satisfied with just blending them together; it wants to surpass where Sakurai left off back in 1996. For all its new ideas and embracing of series history, at its core Return to Dream Land feels lifted right from the 90's.

In an era where New Super Mario Bros. Wii sought to bring audiences together and Donkey Kong Country Returns awed players with its level design, this could result as disappointingly safe, and yet it's something of a miracle Return to Dream Land is not that. It strikes a wondrous balance with the old and the new, all the while borrowing the ideas of its sidescrolling peers to translate the Kirby brand for Wii.

This isn't a dig against Kirby's Epic Yarn, by the way; if pressed between the two, I'd pick Good Feel's effort as being the stronger title. And yet, there's just no denying the gradual ascension of excitement that opens Return to Dream Land: we spot this firsthand when we're given control, when game starts out in a Kirby's Adventure-styled hub where players new and experienced can feel out the controls.

But by the first level's end, we're blown away by a whirlwind of new mechanics and design. By shaking the Wii Remote, Kirby's gusty inhale becomes a ferocious cyclone that swallows multiple enemies at once. The Super Abilities, amplified versions of certain Copy Abilities obtained through glowing enemies, rampage through levels in a ferocity never seen before in Kirby. At the end of Kirby's killing spree, we uncover dimensional warpholes that thrust our hero into a mad escape from an ominous anti-matter scrolling screen.

The momentum successfully carries throughout the rest of Cookie Country. For the first time since Kirby's Dream Land, items appear to aid Kirby and co. on their quest. Crackers shoot bombs while the Stomper Boots provide some addictive timing via bouncy acupuncture footwear. Entertaining as they are on their own, all are expertly designed around puzzles to nab the game's collectibles (Energy Spheres).

As opposed to an overhaul of the mechanics ala Epic Yarn, Return for Dream Land opts for building upon the core mechanics. That the showstopping likes of Super Abilities and Dimensional Holes compose the game's organics render it not a Squeak Squad misfire, but allow it to sit comfortably alongside the evolutionary achievements of Adventure and Super Star. Granted, that the game arrives after years of mixed efforts and remakes leaves a stronger impact, but that it's this good is what makes it go above and beyond.

In particular, the evolution of Copy Abilities are on a level not seen since Super Star. The new powers--Water, Leaf, Spear and Whip--all echo that game in their flexibility, be it the delightful excess of Spear/Whip maneuvers or going a step beyond with environmental effects (Water automatically surfs on, well, water). We've seen occasional winners in the years since Super Star-- notably Smash, Missile and Squeak Squad's version of Magic--yet hardly any scratch the depth and personality found here.

Meanwhile, one-trick ponies like Stone or limited efforts like Ninja always stood out in Super Star's plethora of powers, but you'd hardly recognize their transformations here. Stone, Needle, Hi-Jump and Tornado are now fully-fledged behemoths, whereas Ninja is complete with all sorts of ninja tropes. The lengths of HAL's polish know no bounds, for even 1-hit wonders like Mike and Crash or the adorably useless Sleep are supplied with new tricks (Mike being a animation standout solely for the visual of a headbanging Kirby--all the while sporting a 90's mohawk).

With such care given to the Copy Abilities, it's no surprise they don't forget to design the levels around Super Abilities. As fun as it is to scorch landscapes with Monster Flame and slice the opposition with Ultra Sword, the Wii Remote-shaking thrill of Grand Hammer and Snow Bowl render them the most involved, and therefore, the most exciting. The latter in particular recalls the best of the Giant Snowball from Kirby 64 in how it not only absorbs everyone in your path (the hapless Dream Landers!), but with the added bonuses of demolishing giant sandcastles and bowling pins.

This emphasis on environmental destruction breeds new territory for Kirby, one that would be expanded upon in Return to Dream Land's successors. On a thematic level, it places a humorous spotlight on the senseless devastation often sugarcoated by Kirby's dreamy sweetness; on a gameplay level, there's nothing funner, and the way it makes room for even the little things is impressive. The Star Spit, once Kirby's only attack, can be upgraded relative to the number of enemies that fall victim to the Super Inhale. The potential result is a massive star cluster that plows through baddies, blocks and bosses alike; in that sense, I guess they're not little things after all.

I mentioned earlier about Return to Dream Land being a blend of Super Star/Adventure design philosophies, which is best described as the game possessing Super Star gameplay with Adventure level design. While Super Star's gameplay dominates over Adventure, the latter's emphasis on a sole campaign allowed for a consistent level progression aimed for beginner/expert audiences (not that Super Star didn't appeal to the same audience, but the sub-games aren't exactly sequels to one another).

Return to Dream Land takes this design philosophy to heart, even so much as lifting sequences straight from the NES classic, all the while tuning it to the multiplayer experience. Super Star was the first Kirby game to feature multiplayer, but this takes more pages from GBA games, where different-colored Kirbys could join in on the fun. More parallels still can be drawn from its Nintendo Wii contemporaries, where players can hitch a ride via stacking, perhaps screw each other over via Super Inhale, and control unique characters in the form of King Dedede, Meta Knight, and Bandanna Waddle Dee (all of whom had me frothing at the mouth following E3 2011).

Kirby isn't as physics-bound as Super Mario, so it's something that cannot fully mimic the innate hijinks of New Super Mario Bros. Wii; however, that plays into its strengths. Kirby doesn't emphasize platforming perils ala NSMBWii and Donkey Kong Country Returns, so anyone can keep up with the action (and in rare case you can't, you can always count on stacking onto a good player). In addition, the presence of items can either emphasize teamwork or brew chaos depending on their properties.

It's certainly one of the finer examples of Wii's later emphasis on co-op play--the convenience of simply jumping in via Wii Remote puts it a step above most--and yet it doesn't reach the perfection of Super Star's two-player. The one oversight lies in what's carefully crafted for single-player play: Super Abilities. Their function requires one person doing all the work, while the others sit around reduced to trailing behind whoever's a superhero. I imagine mileage on this has varied; it never ruined my couch multiplayer sessions, yet I could feel my companions growing a tad listless as I razed hill after hill.

This isn't a problem with every power--Snow Bowl saves the day by also scooping up players--and Dedede, Meta Knight, and Waddle Dee at least alleviate the problem somewhat in how they perform certain moves that Kirby cannot with their respective weapons (Hammer, Sword, and Spear). So while every not player is treated as an equal, it still remains a great co-op romp; actually some may raise credible arugments that the importance placed upon player one--such as he or she burdening the team's lives--may be beneficial for newer players as well as further emphasizing teamwork to protect that player. To HAL's credit, they were also very open on their struggles with the multiplayer design.

Do the accompanying aesthetics and sound make any missteps of their own? At the very least, I cannot even begin imagining criticizing the former: Dream Land is as plush and delectable as it was in the 90's, with squat, expressive roly-polys hopping about in environments bursting with such delicious, mouth-watering color. Once again, I can safely say I would like to nibble on the world of Kirby.

But it's not all about eye candy. Backgrounds like the enigmatic ice ruins of White Wafers make us want to know more, while Nutty Noon's soaring ribbons and overhead views may be just as cathartic and calming as the best of Sakurai's Kirby. It's perhaps the last of Nintendo's Wii games that maintains not just a consistently vivid look, but builds a compelling world to house it all in.

Which is all the better that Return to Dream Land embraces series lore. It's not that Kirby hasn't ever relied on plot and the like, but this is the first time Dream Land has been granted this level of a "lived-in" world, let alone a canon (this is present in Epic Yarn, but much of it surrounds Patch Land). Be it the pause screen descriptions of bosses or cryptic conversations with the mysterious wayfarer Magolor, it functions not on the level of Zelda world-building, but on a Mario level of "Oh, that's how that works"(or, in the case of the latter, "they're referencing THAT?").

It answers questions, but leaves enough to the imagination for our minds to answer, right down to discovering Meta Knight's favorite past-time: appreciating literature on a fine sunny day. The obvious question is what he's reading, but I personally wonder about the logistics of a Dream Land printing press. Gosh, I sure hope minimum-wage labor is fair to all Waddle Dees, and that's assuming it even exists at all.

Naturally, a return to Dream Land requires the musical presence of Jun Ishikawa and Hirokazu Ando, the original composers who introduced the music of Kirby's dreams to the world. Putting aside their large rate of success here, even if Return to Dream Land wasn't actually designed as Kirby's return, I can't help but feel that theme's reflected through the soundtrack.

I mean, it can't be coincidence it's there right when the game starts, right? This joyous song immediately greets us at the title screen (and later as the hub theme for Cookie Country), while seguing to a parade of trumpets and chimes in The Adventure Begins. It all signals a grand return to the world of Kirby, and as I always take the time to observe game title screens, that this pulled me in straight away was a great sign (and if you don't laugh at Dedede making faces at Kirby...well, there's just no hope for you).

The aforementioned ascension of that first level is effective primarily because of the Super Ability theme: Bring On The Super Ability. An orchestral theme of passionate valor, the way it accompanies Kirby's wrath injects such intense invigoration that it's impossible not to smile when in control. Truly, it operates on a level of incitement never before seen in Kirby.

Which is vaguely echoed by Looming Darkness, which plays during our peek into the realm of the Sphere Doomers. It signals that of desperate survival, urging the player desperately onward with its otherworldly instruments and sounds. It's the perfect complement to the grayscale dimension, full of passing solar systems and constellations.

But let us not forget that Kirby is home to the wistful and the melancholy, and Return to Dream Land turns to those themes in its later stretches. Aurora Area concludes the chilly recesses of White Wafers, bringing a touch of mystery and awe at the ruins. While it may be populated with the likes of Galbos and Chillys, the cold, windy howls of its accompanying theme instill an ever-present lonely ambiance.

However, such melancholy does not hold a candle to the pure joy of my favorite song: Sky Waltz. A mix of recorders and violins greet Nutty Noon as players fly over Dream Land and witness a wondrous view of the landscape below. Borrowing a page from Epic Yarn, it purposely elicits a sense of nostalgia that easily meshes with our wonder, rendering its accompanying level the very best in the entire game (which, when considering it has no Super Abilities or dimensional rifts of any sort, is no small feat).

Really, there's so many strong songs that I feel guilty about not sharing, be it all the rousing boss themes or an especially dreamy take on a Kirby's Adventure song. The entirety of the game's soundtrack successfully hits all the best of what makes Kirby,well, Kirby: orchestral triumphs, techno rhythms and sweet, soft nostalgia.

...which renders it all the more bizarre whenever it misses the mark. There's a number of real average tracks that either border on the overt childishness that Kirby's supposed to avoid (Walking in the Sea, as well as, disappointingly, the level-ending version of the *Kirby Dance theme) or serve to undermine their scenic set-pieces (the Caving song above). These misfires aren't enough to knock the game down from the upper echelons of Kirby soundtracks--let alone diminish its incredible highs--but its lack of consistency makes it miss the very top.

If I must continue harping on flaws--much as it pains me to do so--the lack of Dedede, Meta Knight and Bandanna Waddle Dee in single-player may also be a missed opportunity. While I understand the levels are designed around Kirby, only having them playable in The Arena feels like a waste. I can't help but imagine it could've made for some fun 100% goal completion (a 2D precursor to Super Mario 3D World, perhaps?)

But my hopes for Return to Dream Land weren't about whether or not it could succeed Adventure or Super Star; it all hinged on whether or not it successfully revitalized and built upon the Sakurai-era Kirby games for a modern age. This review should speak to its achievements at doing so, but I cannot speak highly enough at what it does surpass: the multiplayer mini-games, most notably in how Scope Shot far surpasses most console Kirby efforts even on a solo level; the Extra Mode, absolutely the series' most complete, fulfilling and even unpredictable since Kirby's Dream Land; the balance of difficulty for players new and old, as I still haven't obtained all the Platinum Medals for the addictive, hair-raising Challenge Rooms.

As a whole, its cohesion isn't glued as tightly as two of the 90's finest sidescrollers, but its highs in emulating, building upon and sometimes even surpassing what came before deliver a title that, against all odds, mingled successfully in an era of HD-developed products and AAA names. It being a densely-packaged adventure certainly helped, but it proves that time-tested gameplay can continue winning over audiences so long as they stick to not merely to the conventions of a brand, but by daring to improve the design philosophies behind it.

Fellow Kirby megafan Jim Sterling once said "video games simply do not get any more pure" than Kirby's Return to Dream Land. How delightful that in a sea of open-worlds and motion-control, HAL Laboratory found it necessary to give us a title that stood up and declared "I am from the 16-bit era." That it has since initiated and set the example for the current Golden Age of Kirby is of the highest honor.

*On the flipside, I should mention the boss version of the Kirby Dance theme more than makes up for the regular one if only because it's clearly based on the GBA games. Ah, the warm scent of 2002's holiday season!

Ten Years of Kirby ~Reverie 15~ Kirby Mass Attack

2011, where--No. NO. NOOOOOOOO. Oh, real funny NOA; way to build me up and knock me down with a dreadful one-two Angry Kirby combo. I mean, good god, this is easily the worst offender yet; just look at Kirby's uncharacteristic expression. I'd say this is one of this rare instances where the Japanese cover probably wouldn't gel with Western shelves, yet Europe seemed to deal just fine with it. Granted, they also got Freshly Picked Tingle's Rosy Rupeeland, so I suppose us Yanks have to deal with our violence-appealing culture and Kirby's attempts at the DreamWorks eyebrow.

But I digress. Anyway, 2011 brought the first of many problems that would plague Nintendo over the next half-decade: how to properly promote their new hardware. In this instance, the 3DS's March release was diluted by the annual iterations of the DS and DSi; unfortunately, this meant consumers couldn't tell it was actually a brand new console (that, and why would parents buy a new handheld when their kids received a DSi XL the previous Christmas?). Combined with how it was clearly rushed for launch--mainly with the weak launch line-up alongside the unavailability of the eShop--and the impending threat of mobile gaming, it was a rough start for the successor of the world's greatest-selling handheld.

Cue the following summer, which brought more confusing announcements in the form of Wii U and what is perhaps the quickest turnaround apology in video game history. Apologizing profusely for the 3DS's slow sales, president Satoru Iwata announced a price-cut that would not only halve his salary, but would offer twenty free downloadable games from NES and GBA libraries for those who had already bought the handheld. Alas, it would prove not to be the last of Iwata's miscalculations, and one thing was coming clear: Nintendo's dominance over the casual market was starting to wane.

Let it be known that while 3DS is undoubtedly yours truly's favorite handheld console of all time, the DS was in no rush to be replaced in early 2011. Pokémon Black and White was released just before the successor's release in all territories, and our favorite pink puffball wasn't ready to make the jump, either. The DS had served him quite well, and while HAL suggested otherwise, perhaps he felt it owed the handheld one last hurrah.

The ensuing title, Kirby Mass Attack, is something of an anomaly. It was the first mainline Kirby game to completely abandon the series' trademark Copy Ability in favor of an entirely new mechanic, one that transforms the game into something hardly resembling Kirby at all. We can trace elements of more offbeat entries like Epic Yarn and Canvas Curse back to the source material, but Mass Attack operates on a completely different scale barring its 2D gameplay. This, along with how more eyes were on Wii's Kirby's Return to Dream Land--which would release only a month later in most territories--led to Mass Attack having a muted launch...or did it?

As we'll learn in the next Reverie, fall 2011 was a jam-packed season for games, with The Legend of Zelda Skyward Sword and The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim leading the pack. However, just like 2002's miraculous one-two Metroid revival, two back-to-back Kirby games somehow survived unscathed with a million copies under their respective belts. The new era of Kirby kickstarted by Super Star Ultra was about to transform again, and it would take one final push from this experimental title to launch it.

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If you're not familiar with Kirby Mass Attack, you've probably guessed that the related horde of Kirbys running around is why the game functions so differently. After being split into ten bodies by the nefarious Necrodeus, only one escapes his wrath to stumble upon the star-shaped embodiment of the original Kirby's heart. The heart is what the player controls via stylus, as the Kirbys--who grow in number by collecting food--follow wherever it goes.

Needless to say, it's an innately adorable concept that gels perfectly with the cuddly-cute image of Kirby. The enigma of Kirby's sweetness cancelling out its basely horrifying concept--a pink blob swallowing everything in sight--is channeled properly here, as the ten Kirbys rampage about in their efforts to put themselves back together. Its execution brims with ideas, hardly any of them having much to do with Kirby's original concepts. Mechanics like the Copy Ability and Kirby's infinite floatiness were designed primarily to help anyone reach the goal, and with those stripped away, there's no crutch for beginners to rely on. It takes raw skill to overcome its trials.

The implications are clear in that Kirby Mass Attack is the hardest game in series history. We've had rough patches in outliers like Kirby's Dream Land 2, but none have demanded such constant focus and demand as managing up to ten separate Kirbys at once. Even the generous compensations it makes for the series' intended audience aren't easy hurdles; for instance, take the way it handles damage/revival. Each Kirby can take two hits before it floats up to the afterlife, but a carefully-aimed Kirby fling via touch screen will send the soul crashing down to earth fully revived.

A fair enough trade, but not one that's guaranteed. As the game progresses, the Kirbys will be inundated with projectiles, enemy hordes and moving screens of death to the extent where it's nearly impossible to multitask. That's not a mark on the game; after all, it's the only way the game can raise the stakes. Mass Attack is not overtly difficult by itself, but I can certainly imagine a child struggling with the concept far more than the likes of Kirby's Adventure or Kirby's Epic Yarn, and it's in an entirely different league should you aim for 100% completion. This should go against the very grain of the series--and as explained with the difficulty, it does--but it's actually quite fascinating to witness how far HAL's willing to stretch the series' goals and conventions via such an oddball concept.

Let us not mince words: much like the days of Shinichi Shimomura, Mass Attack is a B-Team effort made by HAL's B-Team. Unlike Mr. Shimomura's works, however, I struggle in pinpointing any specific design flaws in Mass Attack. I mean, I guess I could, but most of its drawbacks result from the more overt shortcomings of its producers than anything else. I say this with no offense whatsoever; I'm more than willing to be lenient with an experimental Kirby (I mean, it's hardly the first), and that I cannot pick apart specific flaws as a functioning game speaks to Mass Attack's quality.

Really, I guess what I'm trying to say is...well, let's just start with the gameplay. Naturally, the first question that arises from such a concept is that "Is it hard to control?". Not at all, and considering the disorderly Kirby horde I'm actually surprised the touch controls register so smoothly. Most, if not all, of the Kirbys were felled due to my error as a player, not from any misguided controls or slacking AI. They quickly react to the stylus and loyally follow the star wherever it goes.
 
That, and it's great fun. Copy Abilities may be sitting out again, but who cares when you have an army of Kirbys ready to swarm and piledrive everything in sight? Be it meticulously aiming for airborne enemies or simply swarming helpless Beanbons, Mass Attack operates with such vigorous, calculated chaos that could very well be the side-scrolling lovechild of Kirby and Pikmin. (In fact, I'd even say for fans of the latter like me, it leaves us wondering how a 2D Pikmin would operate...)

Adjectives like "meticulous" are interesting here since they provide such an intriguing contrast to Kirby's core. Make no mistake: this is just as much of a sugar-rush as the rest of the series, but that it's underscored by constant micromanagement provides not just a gripping challenge, but a different level of engagement we've never seen before from Kirby. For instance, levels are gated according to the number of Kirbys you possess, so letting KO'd Kirbys go or passing by food is not an option.

Furthermore, the concept demands objective-based level design, and Mass Attack delivers. As mentioned previously, where Mass Attack does succeed is its progressive ascension. Simply observe how the game is bookended: the opening levels have the Kirbys working together to pull out giant radishes to scrambling around an alien spaceship for blueprints of their extraterrestrial vehicle by the game's end. The latter concept is particularly inspired by how open-ended it is: you don't have to get all the blueprints if you don't want to, but you'll hardly have enough manpower for the inspired shoot-em'-up section at the end (not to mention your chances for earning medals).

Generally, Kirby Mass Attack is at its best when it foregoes sidescrolling conventions and does its own thing. Just take my favorite level courtesy of Sandy Canyon: 2-5, where the Kirbys ride in the Balloon Bobbleship--a basket hung by a plethora of balloons--as they dodge incoming spiky Gordos who threaten to pop the balloons. The vessel is sensitive to movement, as while it's steered from left to right by guiding the Kirby crowd from one side to the other, the rickety movement can send any one of them flying off without notice. It's exciting, heartpounding, and challenging all in one.

It's not that the instances of semi-regular sidescrolling greatly pale in comparison or anything, but the problem is that there's an awful lot of it. Levels tend to go on far longer than they should, and unless they break convention like the aforementioned UFO level, the game gets a little long in the tooth. This is especially troubling considering Mass Attack's abnormally large level-to-world ratio: each typically features 11 stages, and with only four worlds to venture--with a final one that's essentially a boss rush--the presentation of a confined, yet bloated context paves the way for some troubling flaws.

As already mentioned, the game does succeed in building upon ideas as it goes: Dedede Resort is a boon of mini-games and some great ice-related levels, and I dare not spoil the rest of Volcano Valley's surprises. No, Mass Attack's issues lie in how they're all framed. The "B-team" qualities are never stronger than they are in the accompanying visuals and sound, which rank among the lowest in the Kirby canon. They're hardly enough to cripple the game on its own terms, mind, but that they're this forgettable is a betrayal to the game's wondrous concept.

Case in point: the backgrounds. It's worth reminding 2D Kirby games have blended sprites and CGI in their backgrounds for a decade prior to Mass Attack. Here, the entirety of Mass Attack is sprite-based, with not a speck of pre-rendered models to be found. I can only imagine this was done in regards to the game's overabundance of sprites, hence the relative lack of detail.

The problem is that Mass Attack's world is that for all its color, it's uniformly boring. Whereas the likes of Nightmare in Dream Land, Squeak Squad and Super Star Ultra had their occasional misstep in aesthetic stinkers, nearly every one of Mass Attack's backgrounds lies in a safe model I have no use for. This is not the plush, dreamy reveries we've come to love from Kirby, but rather generic stock fantasy that you'd maybe spot on a Easter Bunny chocolate wrapper.

About the only inspired setpieces lie in the Dedede Resort, home to fun imagery consisting of pineapple islands and puzzle-piece domes. Not pictured are the Dedede-shaped funhouses, which always delight in their signalling of an upcoming mini-game (and further displaying the narcissistic ego of everyone's favorite royal penguin).

I must also call attention to the world map, which has never made an ounce of sense to me. For the uninitiated, Pop Star is supposed to be yellow, as stars typically are in children's properties; here, it's blue. I can only assume they're emphasizing the ocean surrounding the Popopo Islands, but it's rendered all the more bizarre since you witness Pop Star in all its yellow brightness during the ending.

For the record, I can't say I attribute Mass Attack's aesthetic issues entirely within its sprite-based confines; after all, the sprite animation works just fine (just watch the idle Kirbys!) with plush characters that easily fit within the world of Kirby. It's really more the art style that disappoints, as its limited detail cannot pick up the slack of the low world count. The game tries to subvert this by cramming numerous environmental tropes within each one, but even the likes of haunted graveyards and icy caverns beg the question if they didn't deserve worlds of their own.

Then there's the matter of music, which does break my heat a little. Look, let's be absolutely reasonable here: Shogo Sakai is not, in any way, a B-level composer, as attested by his work on Mother 3 (his masterpiece), Kirby Air Ride and the Smash Bros. series. Unfortunately, his first solitary Kirby work in Mass Attack is up there with his Squeak Squad collaboration as the weakest of his Nintendo output. While thankfully there's not a trace of GBA recycling to be found, the soundtrack's something of a mystifying mixed bag.

Which is all the more disappointing when considering how the game's main themes initially promise great things. Kirby Collecting is a joyously bombastic mix of percussion and vocals that greets the player at the title screen, instantly guaranteeing earworm hell over the ensuing week. The in-game variation, Meadow Breeze, carries the title's momentum with a lighter tone, as banjos and accordions come together to encapsulate the game's active energy.

An energy that, sadly, isn't consistently carried throughout the soundtrack. It's not so much terrible as it is forgettable; so forgettable, in fact, I struggle in highlighting any one weak track over the rest (and I have the game's Sound Player right in front of me!). It comes across as Sakai recognizing the concept calls for overtly-peppy, vigorous tracks that rouse the player into action, but fears of treading too much on that line in the event of carbo-loaded burnout.

This isn't to say there aren't such tracks in Mass Attack's repertoire, and as expected, they're the soundtrack's standouts. There are excellent Kirby Air Ride cameos, for one, but we must not lose focus of what's actually new. Snowy Zone and Ruins Ahead, the former as featured above, are genuinely spirited representations of their respective environments, and Fetching Fruit is undeniably the driving force of what makes its respective sections so fun.

The problem here lies in balance. Such fun bombast is far too few and between, and when that a) directly correlates with the theme behind the game and b) is drowned by tracks that don't stir much emotion at all (let alone evocative of Kirby), that's something of a shame.

But let us not be too harsh on Mass Attack. Any failures in visuals or sound cannot override its solid foundation in gameplay, and I ultimately forgive its missteps thanks to its one upholding of a certain Kirby creed:  it remembers that Kirby games must be stuffed full of content; specifically, the mini-games. Mass Attack presents no less than six of the little buggers, and even then I pause at labeling them all as "little".

To the point, the volume of function and eye candy found in the likes of Kirby Brawlball (Kirby's second take at a pinball venture), Strato Patrol EOS (a multi-pronged shoot-em'-up) and Kirby Quest (a pseudo-RPG filled to the brim with fanservice) are particularly impressive. Much like how Kirby Triple Deluxe's sub-games would go on to be eShop purchases, it's very easy to see these three games polished up for digital release, and that's not even getting into how the latter two expertly weave the main game's ten Kirbys mechanic into their own domain.

This is not to sweep the other three mini-games under the rug; as a matter of fact, I appreciate Kirby Curtain Call's hilarious efforts to screw over the player (think about it: why does it have peaches mingling with the crowd?) as well as Field Frenzy's difficulty options offering a compelling crutch for its simple concept. It's an incredibly well-rounded selection of extras, enough to possibly render it the strongest mini-game collection in Kirby history.

No small feat for an experimental Kirby title, you understand, and perhaps that's where my forgiveness with Mass Attack's flubs stand. This is not a Kirby game that paves the way for the series' future, but is instead yet another attempt to see how far the series' elasticity can stretch. Some elements do not pick up the slack in doing so (the visuals and music), but everything else from the execution and creativity of its main campaign, its wonderful selection of mini-games and time-wasters and being the first and only Kirby game with an achievement system render it not only a success, but as one of the last great DS titles.

Ten Years of Kirby ~Reverie 3~ Kirby's Adventure

Once, some years ago on this very blog, I attempted a multi-chapter analysis on the NES classic Kirby's Adventure. The purpose of these posts, dubbed with the name of "Dreams," was to thoroughly examine every facet of the game in the form of Adventure's chronological world progress. A bit too ambitious for an NES title, but this was around when I was still feeling out my writing craft (in a sense, I suppose I still am) and I believed this to be the proper way to gush endlessly about my love for the game (or for any other title I deemed worthy enough for the model, for that matter). It was, for all intents and purposes, complete shit. Okay, maybe that's a little harsh, as I still have a bit of a soft spot for what I was trying to do with the Grape Garden entry, but the overall end product came across as a pointless visual walkthrough for the game rather than a worthwhile piece of nostalgic commentary. Even reviewing it as its own entity reveals an embarrassing mess, as an obvious rushed quality pervades the entire thing. 2010 may have been the blog's most active year, but not one I'm particularly fond of in a retrospective context.

But enough about my past failures, as here we are three years later with more flexible and anti-sanity taxing models of writing. Why not try again? For the game that permanently etched Kirby into my heart, it deserves no less.

Kirby's Adventure arrived at a peculiar time on the NES, in which the system was beginning to be all but abandoned in 1993. While the platform was still selling, the Super Nintendo successor (as well as the Sega Genesis) had been gradually taking over the market, and Nintendo saw little point in continuing to develop 8-bit console software. Third-parties still dabbled in the system (most notably Capcom, who milked the Mega Man brand up until the very end), but the NES was just about all but abandoned by its creator. With this in mind, why Kirby's Adventure ended up on the NES is, at least for an English-speaking audience, a complete mystery. Maybe Nintendo felt the still-new Kirby brand wasn't worth the effort to develop for their new console. Maybe Sakurai wasn't confident enough to helm a Super Nintendo--well, technically, a Super Famicom--project, or was still attached to the 8-bit graphical model shared with the Game Boy (on which Kirby's Dream Land made its debut). No one knows for sure, but no one really asks. Ask any retro gamer with a list ranking the top NES games, and while Super Mario Bros. 3 would probably nag number one, it would not be an uncommon sight to find Kirby's Adventure within.

Me? Not only would I place it at the top, but I could not imagine the game being produced on any other console. Regardless of the reasons why it was put on the platform, Sakurai found himself in a rather beneficial situation. The SNES was still burgeoning, becoming more advanced and groundbreaking with each and every major piece of software  (not the least of which was Star Fox and its polygon-generating Super FX Chip). With everyone else so focused on SNES, perhaps Sakurai felt it necessary to send off its dying, forgotten brother with a proper swan song; of course, such an effort would have to push the NES to its very limits, both graphically and mechanically.  The result was the birth of not just the ambition packed in his future projects, but his first fully-fledged video game. The limitations set on Kirby's Dream Land, while perfect for young players, rendered it all but a quick appetizer to veteran gamers. To bridge this gap, Sakurai and his team concocted a wonderful blend, one in which Adventure's easy difficulty was eclipsed with absurdly malleable gameplay. No matter how young or experienced the player was, anyone could play Adventure and have a blast.

The phrase "better late than never" has never been truer, for Kirby's Adventure sold over a million units in America alone. Such a landmark was unusual for a post-SNES title on the NES, but can easily be attributed to the previous success of Kirby's Dream Land (as well as the rapid growth of the brand in the next few years). Of course, it had other things going for it; yes, it did help that the game reached what would be the graphical limit of the NES (pseudo-3D!), but even that era was chock-full of beautiful clunkers. Kirby's Adventure wasn't just beautiful, for its upbeat personality that lent it the feel of a veritable virtual amusement park was what truly captured the hearts of young gamers. The way it eagerly grabbed players new and old was contagious. It was fun.

Above all else, it was a game that wanted to be your friend.

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One day, the peaceful life of Dream Land was shattered by a mysterious crisis! The inhabitants didn't dream! 

On the edge of Dream Land, dreams and hopes once gushed forth from the Dream Spring, fueled by the Star Rod. 

Investigating the Dream Spring, Kirby found naughty King Dedede swimming in it's magical waters!

 Dedede has broken the Star Rod and given the pieces to his friends, who are now hiding in Dream Land! 

To bring back the lost dreams, Kirby sought the Star Rod!

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So why do I hold Kirby's Adventure in such high esteem? First and foremost, it is the true blueprint of Kirby. As charming and humble the non-ambitious Kirby's Dream Land was, its brevity has lent it an obsolete brand. The Game Boy title can be best described as an infant, feeling his way around the world for the first time as he learns how to to talk and walk. A year or two later, he's zooming around the household with an unmatched vigor. He bounds endlessly after you, wanting to introduce you to his newfound delights, such as hidden space behind the couch or the imaginary friend he just became acquainted with. That child is Kirby's Adventure, albeit perhaps slightly older and equipped with a properly functioning vocabulary. It is the first Kirby game to feature the Copy Ability, where Kirby borrows the powers of the enemies he swallows. It is the first Kirby game with color (and by GOD does this game explode with color).  It is the first Kirby game with a host of mini-games. Much like Super Mario Bros. 3 and Zelda: A Link to the Past, the tropes introduced in Adventure are what compose its successors.

Let it be known to those looking for a deep experience that Kirby's Adventure does not possess the dual-layer gameplay of, say, Super Mario Bros. Think back to what likely characterized your seven-year-old experience with Mario's famous NES adventure: sloppy movement, an inability to direct precise jumps and landings, and mistimed uses of the run button that would often send you crashing into a Hammer Bro. Yet as you grow older and more experienced, the expert intricacy of the game's level design becomes clear. You set specific routes to take throughout the game's many levels, whether it be a carefully executed series of hops onto various levitating bricks or utilizing memorized locations of coin troves and 1-ups. You're able to instantly calculate the trajectory of your jumps, whether it be hopping across falling platforms or over perilous pits. A mistimed jump or two isn't rare, but your playthroughs steadily become routine through not just practice, but taking advantage of the game's shortcuts and secrets.

In contrast, Adventure doesn't aim for this level of complexity, and its host of levels don't even match the chaotic mazes of Dream Land's Castle Lololo. The stages are straight-forward, with most of the obstacles rendered in the form of Adventure's colorful collection of baddies. While stage gimmicks are to be expected, muscle memory is not required in bypassing dangerous jumps or other hazards. It's only objective is engaging the player in an unabashed sugar rush, blazing through levels with Kirby's repertoire of transformations. In other words, Adventure's direction sacrificed challenging level design in favor of maximizing the player's enjoyment. But how is such a thing possible?

While satisfied with how well-received Dream Land was, Sakurai was obviously aware that if he were to continue making Kirby games, they would not evolve if they remained trapped within the Game Boy title's bubble. But he foresaw a problem: while Sakurai was also a big fan of the Super Mario Bros. games, he was well-aware of how their great difficulty frustrated many fledgeling gamers. If he were to take Kirby further, how could he craft a balance to appease to expert gamers without alienating the new fanbase born from Dream Land? The answer lied in tinkering with the core concept of the titular hero; the introduction of the Copy Ability. While the idea of a pink marshmallow eating his foes turned out to be strangely adorable, it lacked a certain spark that didn't grant it the same magic as other 2-D affairs such as the aforementioned Mario and sci-fi adventure Metroid. Kirby's voracious appetite needed a purpose to properly appeal to numerous gaming audiences, or else the series would die in the forgotten mists of irrelevancy.

And what fun these powers are! From fire-breathing to swordplay to the fabled UFO transformation, the vast majority of Kirby's powers are overwhelmingly satisfying to pull off and never grow tiresome thanks to the game continually shuffling through its selection (that is, the mass abundance of baddies who carry potential abilities for Kirby). And what variety, too! A strong first impression is made with its debut of twenty-five roster strong of superpowers. While not all totally different in execution (some can be placed in certain categories, such as equippable weapons or powers that render Kirby stationary), it's next to impossible not to love flashily obliterating everything in sight, whether it be freezing hapless enemies into ice cubes or causing everything to explode via screaming into a three-use microphone.

In my case, the abilities that allow Kirby to wield weapons (Sword, Hammer, and Parasol) have always been my favorite. Adventure clearly has a preference for these abiltiies as well, as they are the very few that have one than more attack function such as mid-air slices and swings, leading to insanely fun acrobatics through enemy swarms. Me? I prefer taking the scenic route with Kirby's trusty Parasol. Adorable in design and deadly in combat, there's nothing quite like transition from gently swaying in the breeze to batting away ruffians. In this case, the parasol is indeed mightier than the sword, yes.

The reason why Adventure doesn't aim for the disguised complexity of Super Mario Bros. is because it's not all that concerned with building levels around the player's skill; rather, it presented levels upon the copy abilities. Stages are constructed with the introduction of new abilities in mind, and said introduction is particularly reserved for the more dynamic powers. Take, for example, the very first time Kirby nabs the Wheel ability on Ice Cream Island. Immediately afterwards, the level shifts to a series of ramps and hills for the player to dash through in wheel form. Obvious highlights throughout the level design only heighten the excitement over more unique powers, such as the Laser ricocheting off walls and the Hammer that crushes posts to reveal hidden switches and Maximum Tomatos. Proper balance of the overly cheap powers (UFO, Mike, Crash, etc.)  is properly balanced through rarity and being erased the moment the player clears the stage.

That the vast majority of these powers work so well for their first introduction is to be commended, although one could argue there are a few that don't produce explosive results. The "stationary" powers that focus on absolute defense (Stone, Spark, and Needle) are unlikely to top the list of anyone's favorite Adventure abilities, as they enforce a screeching halt to the game's focus on constant, hyper movement. Perhaps the only truly sterile Copy Ability is the Cutter, where Kirby tosses a blade that boomerangs at an absurdly short length (along with being executed in a forced stature that's woefully awkward to use for more mobile players). While thankfully the ability carves out its own acceptable niche in later games, Cutter's shittiness is made all the more apparent with its undeserved placement in a flashy host of shapeshifting superpowers and weapon acquisitions favored for their flexibility, as its sole method of attacking comes across as merely ordinary in comparison. Maybe this could've worked better in Metroid, I dunno, but it lacks any form of life here.

So sorry, Sir Kibble.

And yet for all the well-deserved praise for the Copy Abilities, do they make the level designs too restrictive? Indeed, one gets the sense that using a different ability on, say, ramps meant for the Wheel power just feels wrong. Maybe Adventure is a bit of a selfish child; capricious, too, since he'll quickly introduce a new power right after you just obtained a new favorite (such as right after you nab the piledrivin' Backdrop). No need to fret, though, because he'll learn to share. Unlike Super Mario Bros., you can actually head back to already-completed levels via the World Hubs, visual representations of the various regions found throughout the game. Beautiful to look at and creative in design, these maps are host to various mini-games (such as a crange game and a Wild West shootoff) and attractions (Museums that host free powers), successfully molding Adventure into the aforementioned amusement park motif

Also to be commended is the variety of the level design. While not expertly crafted in the form of Super Mario Bros. 3,  a good chunk of the Kirby games from here on out often adhere to the themes of each specific world (such as standard forests/grasslands for plains worlds, oceans/beaches for sea worlds, etc),  yet Adventure wisely breaks up tradition in favor of variety. Grape Garden is an excellent example: while themed as a country settled within the clouds, levels are composed of castles, a high-speed Wheel chase down a hill, and (my favorite) a swarm of blimps in the midst of dangerous air currents.

Through this direction, levels are instantly rendered memorable. Kirby games guilty of the previous example of level design (in particular, Squeak Squad and Dream Land 2) have difficulty embedding themselves to memory, as sets of levels constructed around similar themes tend to blur together. With Adventure's transitions from waterfall-spewing valleys to ships on the high seas, this problem is non-existent. Favorites are easily picked among the bunch, and the true value of the hubs begin to shine as you can go back and traverse through them again and again. With nearly forty levels under Adventure's belt, it's easy for players to immerse themselves throughout the game's colorful world.

Which brings me to another point you've no doubt noticed via the screenshots: Color! Bright, beautiful color! Pink all around! Green in spades! Blue in abundance! Kirby's Adventure explodes in color from the moment the title screen materializes on the player's television, and continues to deluge their eyes with its never-ending supply of pigments. It wasn't quite uncommon for NES games to embrace dull splotches of brown and black (combined with being host to hideously scribbled sprites), but developers that stuck with the system during the SNES years had mastered its graphical processes within the system's twilight years, and no one would argue that Adventure represents the pinnacle of this period.

While the simplistic character designs aren't quite as immaculately detailed such as, say, the gritty Ninja Gaiden, one would be hard-pressed to find backgrounds in an NES game overly saturated with color and detail as Adventure. Of course, the star attraction of Adventure's technical achievement lies within the Butter Building segment, where  Kirby is randomly plopped onto an outdoor platform that spins along in accordance to his movement. Through a fancy programming technique known as parallax scrolling (where certain elements of a game's background can be adjusted to move slower than the foreground a character walks upon), the tower produces a psuedo-3D rotation effect that is completely unlike anything else on the system.

Nor as inspired! Though Adventure is often hailed as the technical marvel of the NES, but what sticks with me more is that the bright, cheery aesthetic lends itself to a veritable example of enchanting childhood fantasy. Immediately springing to mind are the Vanilla Wafer-esque landmarks of Vegetable Valley (a series staple!), the various checker-boarded hills and slopes, and the balance of sky terraces and fauna-filled rooms within the towering Butter Building. While not as overly alluring as later games, Rainbow Resort remains my favorite atmosphere: an arctic carnival shrouded in a eternal night, with auroral sky patterns composed of crayon pastel and luminous attractions looming in the distance. It's an eerily beautiful design that has a vague whiff of Pinnochio's Pleasure Island (albeit not as nightmare fuel-inducing), and the first hint of what's to come in the series' future backgrounds. Overall, the 8-bit graphical design produces a charming blend of simplistic beauty and iconic charm.

It's for this reason that the simplified, beady-eyed character sprites feel right at home. Frantic and alive, the inhabitants of Dream Land bobble around with an animated vigor not typically associated with NES characters. Beam-spewing Waddle Doos dash violently at Kirby, pausing to fidget in the midst of their energy conjuration. Meta Knight's gang of armored thugs consist of collective personalities: some patiently pace around baiting the player; meanwhile, the rowdy mace-ball wielding knights charge at Kirby without pause. Even the sleepy Noddys are fun to watch, strolling non-nonchalantly throughout the stage before suddenly, well, nodding off. I almost feel bad for swallowing them.

Or, perhaps not. I've always had a fondness for the Sleep ability icon.

Anyway, it's interesting I note the frantic nature of the enemies, as the game's difficulty curve (nor its sugar-rush nature) wouldn't be possible without it. While all Kirby games can be cleared in a matter of hours, Adventure is one of the few that steadies a balanced challenge. On its own, it's not too cumbersome for an experienced gamer, but the enemies are literally spazzing out all over the courses. With the player boisterously dashing thanks merry selection of Copy Abilities, an inevitable collision with said baddies will be enough to put a damper on anyone's day. There also a couple of nasty shocks waiting for those aiming at a 100% score; in particular, don't be surprised to find enemies homing in on poor Kirby while on the hunt for the minigame-unlocking switches, and the methods for obtaining some of the secret 1-Ups are nothing to sneeze at. An Extra Mode, while not quite as arduous as the one found in Dream Land, is also available for players looking for a deeper challenge (unfortunately, it doesn't have a save feature, contributing to one of the game's few nitpicks).

While I'm on the subject of enemies, I may as well add that this game features one of my most hated game enemies of all time: Sir Slippy the frog. I don't know if it's a coincidence or not that his name is borrowed from the froggy Slippy Toad of Star Fox (which also came out around the same time), but that doesn't matter. What is important is that god dammit, he is out for blood. Out of all the erratic enemy types, he is by far the worst. Since you automatically lose your Copy Ability whenever Kirby is hit underwater, Sir Slippy takes great delight in making life hell for you. He will plunge in directly at you whenever you least fucking expect it. He hops around randomly with the precision of a crazed, yet silent leprechaun who's movements are impossible to read. You can never breathe. Just about every time I've played through Kirby's Adventure, he gets me. Avoidance is simply not an option with him. He will fucking murder you.

Just look at him. Look at that fucking frog and burn his image into your memory. His life mission is make damn sure you never reach 100% completion, and he does quite an excellent job of it. Or so he thinks, as he's one of the few Adventure baddies that was phased out over time. Thank god.

The bosses, in particular, are a unique double-edged sword. Excluding the traditional stationary Whispy Woods fight, most of the fights are imbued with creativity in attack patterns (Paint Roller's living drawings, pretty much everything about Mr. Shine and Mr. Bright) or in forcing the player to constantly move forward (Kracko and Heavy Mole); yet, their typically large sizes render them a pushover for anyone with experienced knowledge of 2-D sidescrollers. On the flipside, their imposing sizes and attacks are a threat to younger gamers, as even the mini-bosses prove to be a tough obstacle with their erratic attack patterns or, in certain cases, will unleash killer piledrive attacks on Kirby upon instant contact (the likes of Bonkers, Rolling Turtle, and the Fire Lion stick out in my memory as being particularly troublesome).

Oh, and the music. Jun Ishikawa returns from Dream Land to compose the NES entry, but the sound direction is helmed by Hirokazu Ando (another eventual series mainstay). The tinny, exuberant tunes on the Game Boy find a welcome home on the NES, and Adventure's soundtrack is yet another golden representative of the series.Where Dream Land's music aims for an overly peppy style, Adventure hits a sweet spot in which both the sounds of animated vigor and hypnotic rapture are allowed to mingle. Take this contrast between two of the game's best songs: the themes for Butter Building and Rainbow Resort. The former is part of the more lively portion of the soundtrack (although it doesn't quite match the same fervor of Vegetable Valley or Yogurt Yard), being a boppy ditty that's a perfect accompaniment to the tower it represents: a jolly introduction to an awe-inspiring structure that segues into the rising progress within the tower's levels.

Fun Fact: As evidenced by numerous fan remixes and even the Super Smash Bros. Brawl arrangement, the song also has a strange affinity for guitars.

Then we come to the best song in the entire game. I already said enough about how much I loved the art direction for this world, but didn't do the same for this aural masterpiece. A perfect counterpart to an illuminated world of wonder, the song's gentleness is easily compared to a dreamy lullaby, the kind barely hinging on the furthest recesses of one's mind. You remember the one your mother used to sing to you when you were young? You remember dozing off in the middle of a nightly car ride, staring off into the beyond of the night sky before sleep overcame you? That's the muted nostalgia the song soothingly emits in its entire duration, lightly easing the player into a euphoric state as it combs through your memories, allowing these forgotten moments to surface for a fleeting instant before sinking back into the depths of subconsciousness. While not the definitive version of the song, its emotional resonance alone ranks Rainbow Resort in the top pantheon of Kirby music.

There's even a touch of duality in the insanely addictive Forest Theme, a song that to this day I still haven't been able to figure out. It's a bit peppy, yes, but it doesn't dare nab the cusp of hyperactivity like Yogurt Yard. It's more quiet, definitely, but it doesn't seduce the player into dreamland like Grape Garden or Rainbow Resort. An abnormal mixture of subdued bounciness, the song was by far and away my favorite Adventure track when I was younger, as I'd always break out in a huge smile whenever it'd come on and hum along.

But why did I really play the game?

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There were quite a few catalysts that induced interest in retro gaming before Kirby's Adventure, but I'll always regard Super Smash Bros. Melee as the most important. The Gamecube title was imprinted with the fresh scent of nostalgia, dedicated to not only hosting rowdy brawls but to spread awareness of Nintendo's past. References to the games of yore were imbued in every facet of the game, from the characters' movesets to the collection of rearranged retro music to locations culled from the Super Nintendo to hundreds of trophies depicting long-lost characters rendered in 3-D for the first time.

But could a modern game properly showcase what it would to be there? While we wouldn't get our answer until much later*,  it's not as if Melee set out to emulate the likes of Super Mario World or Zelda II (although one could argue for its vague Kirby Super Star origins). And yet in the end, it was the online fan reaction to Melee that truly mystified me. Long-time Nintendo fans on message boards were delighted to experience various callbacks from Super Mario Bros. 2 to Earthbound contained within one source, and they all discussed said delight with such yearning and fondness that just beneath my reach. I felt a sort of identification with their nostalgia when mixed with my reverie, and I wanted to experience it for myself.

While not the first "old" video game I'd played, Kirby's Adventure was my first such venture into the realm of research. The impact of webcomics utilizing NES/SNES character sprites and the wistful forum discussions left a strong impression on me, and I wanted to mine this nostalgia from its source. The decision to go after Kirby's Adventure felt natural: Sakurai had hit the nail on the head for the old Super Mario games being too tough for younger games (i.e. me), and the titular character and his settings had grown on me immensely in Melee.

The game instantly clicked with me with an odd sense of camaraderie. Kirby's Adventure is lovely in that it knows exactly what it's constructed for: a younger audience that loves to play games, but can't play them well. Anyone can breeze through the game's levels. Its dialogue, whether in the opening demo or the pause screen instructions, is purposely elementary and speaks on the same level with a touch of reserved excitement. Oh, and, of course, over twenty-something superpowers. Everyone loves those; especially kids, so I hear.

Much like Kirby's Dream Land, a child can easily discern that Adventure was created just for them, but the latter's greater scale is what allows it to be treasured and fully embraced. Where Super Mario and Mega Man may have failed one young gamer with their brutal difficulty and daunting, apparent larger-than-life size, Kirby's Adventure unashamedly plays favorites for the sole purpose of making the kid feel powerful. Despite the challenges I mentioned earlier, there's no denying the game's still, overall, pretty dang easy. And that's okay. There's no forcible hand-holding, no blatant overkill with food items or 1-ups. The kid is in control.

But Adventure doesn't settle for sitting in the backseat, no. It doesn't hold the player's hand, but it's still there at the forefront. It's the basis of the player's frenzy, feeding it through constantly introducing new abilities and never letting up with the eye-popping color. Kirby's enthusiastic dances matches the upbeat satisfaction of felling a boss or completing a tough level. But why is it so excited? Remember what I compared the game to, earlier? Adventure identifies with the child because the game itself is a child. It is just as excited as the young player, frantically wanting to show its new friend all the sights and festivities it has to offer.

Even as a kid who considered himself decently well-versed within the world of gaming, I found it a wonderful experience to play through a My First Video Game not for the sake of learning how to play games, but how to play and understand 2D games. I largely favored the wide, comfortable three-dimensonal expanses of the Nintendo 64 over the challenging, precision-based Super Nintendo, and Kirby's Adventure gradually succeeded in melting the barrier between the two worlds. It's a game that celebrates your progress with you, purposefully cramming as much of its infectious upbeat nature as it can so you can keep trying and playing again and again.

And then, it suddenly flips the teatable, resulting in one of my all-time favorite moments in gaming.

So, remember when I mentioned the sub-games strewn across the hub worlds? There's one in particular I'd like to a bit in-depth about: the Arena Matches, where Kirby is pitted against one of the many mini-bosses found throughout the game, such as the walrus Mr. Frosty or the flying beetle Bugzzy. The reward? A Maximum Tomato and whatever Copy Ability the fallen foe provides.

What I love about this isn't the free health pick-ups or abilities. It's not for the thrill of battle. It's not for the concept of a mode solely designed to fight the game's fun mini-bosses. It's what happens the moment you win. Upon Kirby's triumph, everything falls silent. There may be a garbled cheer from the crowd when the enemy explodes or is swallowed, but that's all. The music stops playing. The dotted members of the audience just flicker.

They're cheering silently.

When I first saw this, I was spellbound. Without knowing it, I was there. I was the seven year old who routinely played Kirby's Adventure when it was released in 1993. It was the early hours of the morning, within one of the lower quarters of the household. The boy's parents were asleep. The sun had only barely risen, its rays dimly lighting the room. The boy has just triumphed in an arena match, but he only sits there, absorbing the sudden silence. He's just as stupefied as I am, staring off into the sea of shifting pixellated heads.

But was the child entranced for the same reasons as I? For me, it was the revelation of the bare form of ancient hardware: just for the purpose of a quick cheer that sometimes never manifests, the boss music has to stop playing. Kirby's Adventure celebrates noise just as much it oozes color, never letting up its frenzied/soothing soundtrack or lively sound effects except for the briefest of intervals. It flashes a well-earned 1-up in the Crane Game or quietly builds the tension in Quick Draw, then pops right back to making noise. Yet within one small pocket, ambiance is allowed to reign within Kirby's Adventure. It's something so incredibly insignificant that I highly doubt there's any symbolic meaning behind it, but I remain badgered by how I'm allowed to just stand there and watch the crowd. Aren't I supposed to keep moving? It's a moment that continues to elude me.

And what about the child? The NES was already aged back in 1993, but for him, it may as well be new. Was he mentally filling in the blanks of the crowd? Were they people he knew, or imaginary friends from his sessions of playing pretend? The reasons for our captivation maybe different, but our interest is one and the same: a silence that defies everything we thought we knew about Adventure, a game that's composed of perky movement and boisterous sound.

I recall another very vague memory regarding sound. In the Grape Garden hub world, the background song was something that implied a moment's rest, maybe a faint reflection. I stopped moving here, too, but that was because I sighed at what the music meant for me. That's what I did whenever I encountered the perfect mixture of nostalgia and reverie: a remote memory of an experience I never had, yet was still rendered beautiful by the idea that, nearly ten years ago, there was a young player who properly produced that memory. I just sighed, staring off into the clouds outside my window  and wondered, was there a kid out there feeling the same way I was just now?

 

Today, it's not like that anymore. It urges me away, wants me to move on and keep going; not with it, but away from it. It's cold and impersonal, like the chance encounter with an old friend that didn't go as you wanted. Of course, it's not as soul-crushing as that sort of experience, but I can't help but view it as some sort of tragic transition from childhood.

Does it mean I'm too old to be playing this game anymore? But then why do I still have fun? Because it's a  game that represented nostalgia to me at a young age that, ironically, became a source of my own nostalgia as I grew older? Not really. Adventure's sugary, sweet essence is something that's never really gone away, but a game can't last on nostalgia forever. For a game to possess unique character all the while providing engaging gameplay that can weather through the advances of the industry is the true key for it to last forever, and is a sign of fine craftsmanship.

I still own the NES cartridge I picked up ten years ago. I've bought it on the Wii and the Wii U's Virtual Console service. I downloaded the 3D version on the 3DS. While it's a shame the virtual copies suffer from the ubiquitous muted graphical filter of the Virtual Console (aside from the 3DS version), I still feel great delight in knowing that any kid out there can have the same solitary experience of playing a game created just for them. Is it the very best Kirby title? No, but I don't know if anything could topple it off its rightful place as number two (although 2011's Return to Dream Land came close). This is one of the greatest games to be published under Nintendo's name.

*Eventually, it was proven that modern video games could provide the community with brand new memories of the NES. The Nintendo DS was graced with Retro Game Challenge eight years later, capturing the hearts of all the twelve people who bought it.