Wordly Weekend: Sonic the Hedgehog (Genesis)

Imagine, if you will, blast processing. Not that any sane individual would be able to define what exactly it meant -- for the uninformed, it was a tacky marketing buzzword to describe the speedy processing of Sega Genesis -- but doesn't it just sound cool as all hell? To the young consumers of the 16-bit era, it was a nebulous term that exuded an impressionable coolness, undoubtedly due to how it rolled off the tongue and was an easy referral to why the Genesis' graphics were so good. Or how its games were so fast. Or whatever.

Naturally, the poster boy for this gimmick would also match said coolness; hence Sonic the Hedgehog, featuring a cocky animal mascot of the same name, an acidic blend of colors and backgrounds and, most of all, an emphasis on speed. Billed as the fastest thing alive, Sonic the Hedgehog was designed to surpass Super Mario through lightning-fast running, setting the portly plumber's meticulous platforming to shame via eye-catching movement. On a surface level, the concept is, in retrospect, something only designed to impress a 90's audience through the 90's philosophy of "too cool for school" appeal to kids through eye-bleeding use of 90's aesthetics and character design.

In case I didn't hammer it in enough, Sonic the Hedgehog is something that should be a 90's product that, upon remembrance, induces only the most chilling of shudders (think Bubsy the Bobcat). And yet, it worked; in fact, it still works. Let us set aside the irony of Sonic's horrid fall from grace in 3D and focus instead on his glorious Genesis era: what the original Sonic games remember is not to use the thrill of speed as gimmick, but instead rewarding the player through how they utilize Sonic's running. The better your align platforming skills with your control of speed, the more rings you'll nab and Special Stages you'll find and loop-de-loops to run through to keep your momentum going.

There are those who believe all three -- or four, if you count Sonic the Hedgehog 3 and Sonic & Knuckles as separate entities -- of Sonic's original Genesis adventures rank among some of the best 2D platformers ever made. Myself, while I'm quick to place the latter three on that podium, I'm hesitant to include the original Sonic the Hedgehog. Yes, it's certainly the most iconic -- only Sonic the Hedgehog 2 might rival it in that area --- but I wouldn't say it possesses the same highs as its successors. It's just simply a solid platformer; a pretty great start that, while being the inception of a beloved series, would soon be eclipsed by its far superior sequels.

Not that it's not understandable why some think that way. Let us not chalk it up to nostalgia and instead get to the most obvious reason: Green Hill Zone, serving as both the opening and best part of the game. All three acts serve as genuinely incredible tutorials to what would eventually become the DNA of Sonic: split paths. Very rarely is Sonic ever played the same way, as the better your platforming/dashing skills are, you'll generally gravitate towards the upper echelons of every level, where rewards and goodies await you. The poorer you are, however -- be it mistimed jumps or falling prey to collapsible ground -- you sink lower and lower, and momentum halts just like that.

To complement this, all of Green Hill Zone's acts feel appropriately huge: there's springs and bonus monitors hidden within palm trees and rocks, breakable walls to plow through, and extra life monitors tantalizingly placed on towering shuttle loops, Other levels do this too, of course, but hardly any instill the same "how do I do that?" curiosity as, say, reaching that monitor on the shuttle loop. You stop, go back, and carefully scan the landscape beforehand to discover the path on top. (If possible, anyway; the famous Spin Dash move would debut in Sonic the Hedgehog 2, so you'll need to get enough momentum through Sonic's running to pass back through the shuttle loop, and that's only if the level design allows it. If not, better luck next time!)

Through your success, maybe you realize it makes for a shortcut, and that's when the genius of Sonic the Hedgehog reveals itself: you'll naturally want to do better through all the teases Green Hill Zone laces throughout the acts, or to avoid the momentum-killing bottom floors to maintain a consistent pace, or to maintain enough rings so we can enter the Special Zones. Practice becomes inevitable through the miracle of a one-button set-up, and so it feels measurably disciplined and comfortable to play.

And then you get to Marble Zone, and things slow down a little. Not that it's bad; the puzzle-solving on display is well-made for what it is, but its plodding nature is ill-suited for Green Hill Zone's multi-tiered design to translate over, and it's quick to deflate the speedy high we just had. It meanders off to do its own, and again, it's hardly bad, but it's that Green Hill Zone was just so interesting that it can hardly compare to its level of depth.

Needless to say, Sega and Sonic Team were still figuring out what made Sonic work, but they hadn't quite nailed what made it work best. For example, the later Starlight and Scrap Brain zones are perhaps the levels closest to matching Green Hill Zone's magic, but overtly gimmicky stages like Spring Yard Zone's barrage of springs and bumpers and Labryinth Zone's mazes meander off to do their own thing. Again, not bad, but their respective gimmicks feel forced, and Starlight and Scrap Brain arrival towards the game's end means we're stuck with "just fine" levels for some time.

The boss encounters with Dr. Robotnik -- or "Eggman," as he would eventually become known -- are also uneven in quality. The ball-and-chain duel in Green Hill Zone is deceptively simple--well, okay, it is simple, but far too often does it fool cocky players into thinking they won't get hit by the slow arc of Robotnik's wrecking ball, and so we must implement a certain timing to fell the mad doctor. Meanwhile, concluding the game is him basically playing hide-and-seek in pistons, and while the "no ring" concept does provide a decent challenge, it's not at all what you'd expect from a final boss fight

This incongruity extends even to the Special Zones, which marry a tedious, frustrating exercise to collect Chaos Emeralds (tilting Sonic about in an ever-rotating maze, wha?) to...enchantingly bizarre backgrounds. Like, I don't even have the words to describe what's going on above, as screenshots fail to capture the hallucinogenic sight of polygonal birds turning into fishes turning into birds. That this would not be the most bizarre sight in Sonic perhaps implies there's something unwell with the folks at Sonic Team, but let's not dwell on the future just yet; after all, it's not like they're soul-crushing betrayals to the kid-friendly values of SoniOKAY I'LL STOP

Anyway, that brings me to my next point: much as the next games' use of color would stand the test of time, Sonic the Hedgehog does...not. Again, Green Hill Zone is exempt thanks to its luscious use of greens and blues, but they begin to rely too much on acidic purples and yellows and it all begins to mesh together into a rather oudated look. Only Starlight Zone with its twinkly black nightline sky feels like a reprieve, and outside of a couple backgrounds flirting with the "industrial city" look, even then most of them don't feel particularly inspired.

Make no mistake, though: much as the colors try to convince otherwise, Sonic the Hedgehog's still impressive to look at. The use of parallax scrolling is really what makes the speed come to life: both the foreground and the backgrounds move accordingly, but it remembers to highlight the former to properly emulate Sonic buzzing by; in turn, this allows the latter's scope to flourish in slowly (but not too slowly) move along to emphasize that, yes, you're only exploring just one portion of the world you're in, and it feels that much bigger.

Ask anyone what they remember the most from the original Sonic the Hedgehog, however, and the answer will likely be the music. Masato Nakamura, an emerging musician at the time, designed its tunes for the goal of humming along to (alongside more cinematic reasons, but we'll just focus on that aspect), and it works in spades. Green Hill Zone is the most iconic Sonic theme for a reason, its lighthearted infectiousness rendering impossible not to listen to without getting nostalgic.

Even more than that, it's how Nakamura gets Sonic even when Sega was figuring the game out themselves. Marble Zone may be too slow for Sonic, but that doesn't stop Nakamura from applying an equally slow theme that complements it perfectly, urging the player ever onward with its steady beat. Meanwhile, a level as flashy and jumpy as Spring Yard Zone must demand an addictive earworm that I find the need to clap to even though I'm holding a controller.

Yet as successful as he was in designing climatic themes for the game in the boss theme or Scrap Brain Zone, it's the latter that establishes Sonic's identity as a light-hearted affair. As "cool" as Sonic is, edginess and sassy characters will hardly do in an attempt to defeat Mario, so it must remain a cheery adventure at heart through presentation. Scrap Brain Zone's theme echoes this in its alternation between opening with a foreboding mechanical beat and concluding with a heroically upbeat groove, as if to say "you're almost there! You can do it!"

A theme not echoed in every tune, mind; for reasons better left unknown, Mr. Nakamura was compelled to compose a theme of pure horror that plays upon Sonic's imminent drowning. A spine-chilling series of beeps, the panic from hearing it for the first time sears a permanent fear into our brains, and we never want to stay underwater very often. Perhaps that was the point, but with it being the genesis of my water-level phobia and all, I have to wonder if traumatizing scores of unsuspecting children was truly worth such a goal. 

But I digress. In the end, did Sonic beat Mario? As far the first game goes, no, but it didn't need to: it laid the groundwork for sequels that could very well make that case, with most any missteps quickly recognized and cast aside. And that counts for a hell of a lot.