With Sonic the Hedgehog finally embedding the Sega Genesis into the mainstream -- enough to overtake Nintendo's own Super NES for the 1991 holiday season -- only one logical conclusion was inevitable: the need for a sequel. If momentum was to be achieved, being bigger, prettier and faster wouldn't be enough enough: nay, it must be better. If it must be prettier, than its pre-rendered 3D graphics musn't merely be for show, but instead highlight specially-earned sections of play. If it's to be faster, it must cut down on the momentum-killing puzzles and gimmicks from the first game to encourage more flow, upgrade the controls accommodate this venture, and then go a step beyond by the accompaniment a CPU-followable character that could be controlled via a second player. If it must be bigger, than everything just mentioned must play into every facet of its design.
What results is Sonic the Hedgehog 2, a game implicitly more confident than its progenitor. With the design lessons learned from the first title, the game could satisfyingly combine flashiness with enthralling gameplay, and so we have a game that is, for the most part, absolutely solid. It is a game of sufficient length (over ten zones -- just enough time for the practiced player to finish before supper), engaging feedback (the Spin Dash mechanic), and dense, captivating level design from beginning to end (not a single stinker in its zones, and all brilliantly capitalize on the original's multi-tiered design). No longer is Sonic a game meant to defeat Mario, but a game that can stand tall with Mario.
With a de-emphasis on gimmicks, for one, there is little stopping us in the way of momentum: while Sonic 2 follows the same basic design philosophy as Sonic the Hedgehog -- progressing however we wish, yet expert play stems from sticking to the levels' upper echelons -- there's no overt lulls in puzzle-solving or stages hyper-focused on one mechanic (think Spring Yard Zone). As originally envisioned, Sonic's speed is the star, but Sega is mindful of balance: the player is not interested in just having Sonic run about; nay, said speed must be proportional to ease of play and expert manuever. The inclusion of Sonic's Spin Dash -- where he spins and revs up speed before rocketing off -- is what ultimately factors into the emphasis on speed: for one thing, it's exhilarating to use, but itcarries a risk -- use it carelessly, and you'll find yourself careening into spike traps and bottomless pits. As we recognize the the lay of the land, we grow an innate sense such building momentum right before a loop-de-loop landmark.
Naturally, the zones must properly complement this ability -- Emerald Hill Zone, our opening level, consists of wide, open space, laced with the familiar loop-de-loops echoing Green Hill Zone prior and debuting corkscrew paths. While we may run into spikes adorning walls, we're largely free to experiment with this exciting tool to blaze along. Later stages, however, are not so forgiving: Oil Ocean in particular is full of oily pits punishing cocky speedsters who fire away without any thought; instead, it trusts our ability to perform calculated jumps, speeding only when necessary. This gradual ascension of difficulty is evident the moment we say our goodbyes to Emerald Hill, as we soon learn to rely upon every movement in Sonic's arsenal.
Of course the bottom-to-top ascension is ever at play, with Casino Night Zone as perhaps the best example: the barrage of flippers and bumpers bouncing Sonic about provides an provides method of play that distracts us with rings and slot machines, and so our greed must be kept in check alongside our careful pinball navigation. Meanwhile, Aquatic Ruin Zone and Chemical Plant Zone introduce water as an indicator of punishment -- if you're dry, you're undoubtedly speeding along; if not, your sluggish underwater movement undoubtedly informs you've got room to improve. (Not to mention you're ever at the mercy of that scary-as-all-hell drowning music, which I remain convinced Masato Nakamura tapped into the channels of Hell to produce)
Let us also not forget the introduction of Miles "Tails" Prower, a young two-tailed fox who follows Sonic wherever he goes (he can fly, y'know). As a CPU, there exist faults-- the character's AI can steal precious life-granting bubbles (perhaps as a deliberate murder to drown Sonic?), and he makes Special Stages a pain -- but as a second player, the character is genius: being host to no lives, it matters not if the character falls down a pit or suffers a fatal collision, for he'll simply fly back and rejoin Sonic. Needless to say, it's an immensely helpful assist tool, one previously unheard of in the platforming sphere (or, at the very least, without any prior equal).
Discussing the game's graphical enhancements are a tad more tricky, however, as they're hardly a massive leap over the original (or at least relative to Sonic 3 and Knuckles, anyway); still, I somehow find its use of colors less tacky than the original. Take, say, its use of nebulous cityscapes -- the lively night skies of Casino Night Zone certainly have more in common with the warmth of the original's Starlight Zone, whereas Chemical Plant Zone's fiery crimson is a stark contrast to Spring Yard nonsense. True, we don't know what goes down in those factories, but the colors indicate it's certainly not for Samaritan purposes. Aside from background storytelling, perhaps more evident are the eye-grabbing Special Zones -- whereas the original mainly used pre-rendered 3D as simple visual tricks, Sonic 2 wisely amps the game through compression magic in crafting the illusion of alurring, interactive 3D. Before pseudo-3D games like Star Fox and Donkey Kong Country were common-place, it was -- and still remains -- a thrilling peek into the future, but we'll elaborate more on those later.
Masato Nakamura returns again to grace our ears, and while it's a tragedy his direct involvement with the series ends here, he ensures to grant Sonic 2 a soundtrack far surpassing that of the original. With SEGA finally grasping what their hedgehog brainchild's meant for, Nakamura's compositions flex beyond light-hearted sound; why, just note how the slower-paced Casino Night Zone and Aquatic Ruin Zone are standouts in highlighting two separate dispositions -- the jazz-esque Casino Night promising fun times in its ring-granting mazes, while Aquatic Ruin is a reflective moodiness echoing its once-proud history. Livelier songs like Emerald Hill Zone and Hill Top Zone expertly convey the series' , but deviant tunes like these steal the show.
I must also commend how the game's sense of finality is executed superbly through sound. It opens with a calm, dreamy prelude in Sky Chase Zone -- an auto-scrolling level Sonic and Tails pursue Eggman's Wing Fortress via aircraft. Despite requiring a careful balance in movement and jumping, I imagine it a nostalgic reverie for the gamers of yesteryear, but we can't relax for long, as Wing Fortress Zone booms into a triumphant assault. Our spirits already aloft at having come so far, some terrific percussion springs us into action, and we plow through the aerial stronghold until we reach the maniacal doctor. After an arduous boss fight in Mecha Sonic, we catch our breath as Sonic chases his nemesis, ready to put down our controllers until a hair-raising alarm that is the final boss theme alerts us "no, it's not quite over yet". It's the perfect accompaniment of build-up, action, and climax, all paving the way to a well-deserved ending (which, thanks to the brief monochrome sequence of Tails' final act, happens to be my Sonic favorite).
However, if we must point out the real star of the soundtrack, then there's only one answer: Chemical Plant Zone. Aside from being an absolute earworm, it's the one level theme that doesn't possesses a single trait of innocence, perfectly complementing its ominous red colors and rising purple acid. Perhaps that's one reason why it's the crowd favorite, although it being an absolute banger also helps. Despite having penned a 50-entry game music column, I somehow encounter a road block in describing why, exactly, it's so effective, but as always, I can entail why it's my favorite Sonic song; that being, it is everything I associate with Sega Genesis in its presentation as a "cool" console. In retrospect, that's a bit odd considering it's not a console I'm intimately familiar with -- you can tell I'm a Nintendo fanboy by claiming SNES is infinitely superior, regardless -- but I've always appreciated how it continued marching down that route by being different (after all, why rebrand when your console outsold Mario that Christmas?).
There's one more song I'd like to elaborate as something of a segue: the Special Stage theme, a hyperactive explosion of activity. The Special Stage themselves are a night-and-day improvement from the original -- while constructed in an entirely different manner of play, they still echo the game's sense of speed and emphasize actual physics as opposed to luck and general weirdness -- but the hyperness channels our fleeting excitement and tense play. Alas, they are host to the game's one definite flaw. While those more experienced with the game may disagree, I am none too fond of how Tails lags behind the player --far too often have I successfully dodged incoming obstacles only for my sidekick to stumble and lose rings in my steed, and there's hardly enough lightning-fast reflexes in the world to make up for it. Thanks to the options menu, we could simply turn Tails off and go solo, but alas, SEGA felt it necessary to randomize the Special Stage order in response, throwing off our muscle memory for no applicable reason.
Still, trifles like that don't matter -- again, why complain when the ultimate result is a game that proudly stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Mario? Of course, it takes no expert to recognize I prefer Nintendo's plumber, but I admit the most embittered argument of the 16-bit era endures both on online messages and deep within my conflicted soul. However, let us let bygones be bygones, and cherish the finest age of the blue hedgehog -- putting aside his later (perhaps ongoing?) downward spiral, any 90's Mario-killer still relevant and hailed today is a sign of fine craftsmanship.
Screenshots courtesy of The Video Game Museum.
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