This past week saw the release of the two most high-profile games of 2009, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 and New Super Mario Bros. Wii. One a gritty urban shooter and the other a whimsical side-scrolling platformer, these titles could not be any more dissimilar. Where they do find common ground is in how safe they are, guaranteed to provide entertainment to almost everyone who purchases them.

Not that there is anything wrong with being safe. These are the latest installment in two obscenely popular franchises. The money poured into their development ensured that neither would be lacking polish. Because of their sterling pedigree, potential buyers knew well in advance of the first official reviews to expect a high level of quality. It is comforting to be able to invest in a sure thing.

Still, it's disconcerting to watch as even the most enthusiastic of game consumers grow extremely risk averse. I can understand how mainstream consumers who don't feel the gaming itch more than a couple times a month would be less adventurous in their gameplay considerations. For us, the nigh obsessed techno junkies who take great pride in their storied gaming histories, I would expect a greater willingness to embrace the unknown.

Lately, there has been a fair share of games that receive the "Hollywood" treatment, pumped and primed to be the next grand-slam blockbuster. These games are paraded so lavishly because there is waning interest, even among the enthusiast community, in anything that is truly different or experimental. There's little room for sensibility, where excess is not a requirement and "average" does not translate to "less than average."

What are we saving up for? Aside from the aforementioned releases, we have Left 4 Dead 2, Assassin's Creed II, Borderlands, Final Fantasy XIII, Super Mario Galaxy 2, and so on. It's a decent wish list, no doubt, yet it lacks personal flair. We are being told what and when to buy and everything else is irrelevant. I can picture the prototype gamer gripping a neon green clipboard in one hand and a fat red Sharpie in the other, going down a chart and making broad check marks as if he were taking inventory. Where's the individuality?

This behavior applies towards not only big AAA software but also genres we play most often. If you are a JRPG nut then you probably swear by Namco and Atlus and Nippon Ichi. If you are big on racing and sports sims, you may not pay much heed to games with heavy fantasy elements. I personally have expressed disinterest in first-person shooters as well as most Western fare, and as such I may have developed some unfounded assumptions and outright dismissed titles I might have found appealing had I actually taken an interest.

I don't think any of us are immune to tunnel vision, filtering out anything that doesn't meet our specific set of criteria. It's the reason why HD console aficionados can look at the Wii's output and claim there is nothing worth their investment. It's the reason why the jaded classic crowd prefers to stick by releases that tickle their nostalgia bone. We like to be entirely in control of the media we consume and too many unknown variables will weaken and eliminate that control.

But what's the big deal, anyway? What's wrong with staying within your comfort zone boundaries? As long as you are having fun, there's no real incentive to branch out and sample games that have a greater probability of disappointing you. We all have our own tastes and preferences and thus it is only natural that we cater to them.

I've a couple problems with that. One, you can't know for certain that a particular game won't engage if you only adhere to self-imposed restrictions. It's a crying shame that there is a wealth of software on the market that we'll never experience because our attention is focused elsewhere.

Two, there's little room for surprise when have set expectations. When you anticipate a game, your excitement stems from the expectation that it will expand upon a template that you've visited and revisited countless times. When you finally get your hands on the game, either it fails to meet all your expectations or it satisfies them completely. If the former occurs, you'll either enjoy the game despite its flaws or despise it. If the latter occurs, the status quo is maintained. Very rarely will some new element radically change the way you perceive that brand of game.

Now, should you gamble on something foreign, you may regret that the time spent with it could have been better served by something tried-and-true. However, without any preconceived notions of what this alternative style of game entails, the potential gains are so much greater. You would be introduced to a whole new side of gaming and feel inspired to explore other similar games. You may discover that tactical RPGs are not that bad, that handheld gaming is every bit as satisfying or even more so than console gaming, or that games in bright and colorful packaging are not necessarily shovelware.

I think each of us understands the importance of branching out and trying new things. To be fair, we all make attempts, however weak, to broaden our horizons, but there's just so much more that can be done on an individual basis. The more chances you take, the bolder you'll become. I can't dictate line by line the steps you should follow, but I can offer some guidelines:

1. Don't be afraid to part with your money. Even if you are willing to try something new, you might not be so willing to drop fifty or sixty bones on a crapshoot. You'll promise to consider it after a heavy discount or when there is a store special, but by then it may have escaped your mind. When you see it on the shelf, you'll reach out your hand and withdraw it, holding off on that purchase indefinitely.

2. Let your instincts take over. No need to dive right in the deep end. Start simple by visiting your local used games retailer and start browsing. When a box draws your attention for more than a few seconds, pick it up and make a beeline for the register. Go to Wal-Mart or Best Buy and sift through the discount racks and baskets. Don't leave without something in your hand. As you feel more comfortable with small purchases, start working your way up the price ladder. Pretty soon, you could be making significant purchases on good faith.

3. Reprioritize your planned spending by buying the small-scale ahead of the big-name. Who here decided to pass on New Super Mario Bros. Wii in favor of, say, A Boy and His Blob? Who chose to set Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 on the backburner? This need not be a regular event, but do give the other guys special preference once in a while.

4. Check your expectations at the door. The thrill of pleasant surprise is effective only if your demands for a particular type of game don't carry over. If you are giving a $20 cartoon platformer a whirl, why would you expect online multiplayer, fully voiced cutscenes, and a host of increasingly irrelevant criteria? Judge the game on its own merits.

5. For that matter, games don't have to be the "whole package" to be enjoyable. Some games are more feature-rich and polished than others, but that doesn't mean that the only way to enjoy the latter is to lower your standards. Deny it if you so choose, but there is this skewed perception that "great" means "average" and "average" means "poor." It's folly to associate value with how many bullet points are listed on the back of the box. Don't confuse excess for necessity.

Beyond that, the journey is your own. Be daring. Be independent. Don't let multimillion dollar companies dictate exactly what you should play. Don't succumb to genre overload. If you usually go big, think small. If you usually think small, go big.

I am not excusing myself here. I generally avoid the big mainstream blockbusters, but enough people seem to enjoy them that I fear I may be doing myself a disservice by painting them with the same brush. Maybe when people warn me that I don't know what I'm missing, I should take their advice to heart.

The same goes for you guys. You may discover greater entertainment than you've known before. Maybe you'll be more appreciative of games that are rough around the edges but have their heart in the right place. Perhaps the next time someone lists their picks for a specific platform, you'll no longer feel the need to cut down each and every item for being beneath your consideration.

Where is the fun if we aren't a little bit uncomfortable now and then?

Dracula, Embodiment of Evil and Lord over Death. Over a millennium, his machinations have been foiled by the legendary Belmont clan and various orders of vampire hunters. If not for their tireless efforts, Dracula's veil of darkness would have enveloped the planet and plunged the Earth into an everlasting age of despair.

These valiant demon slayers train tirelessly until the hour of Dracula's resurrection. Though the length of his rebirth cycle is supposed to be a century, more often than not he is prematurely summoned by faithful minions or obsessed cultists. As such, one must be ever vigilant, ready at a moment's notice. Dracula's body may be destroyed countless times, but his spirit is eternal.

Come to think of it, Dracula never spends much time in the living world. Mere hours after any given rebirth, someone comes along and strikes him back down. It is years, possibly decades, before he is given another opportunity at human extermination. He must get pretty bored, not to mention annoyed, floating about as a non-corporeal esper with as much influence on earthly events as a common housefly.

But what if his spirit goes somewhere else?

I prefer to think that during his downtime, Dracula exists in a spiritual realm where all manner of unholy beasts spend their days in a twisted approximation of your typical human town. You know, like The Neitherworld from Beetlejuice! So while he awaits his travel visa renewal, Dracula tries to make his afterlife a little bit more comfortable. He lands a job or two, gets a nice house in the 'burbs, and maybe even starts a new family.

Imagine that! Dracula, a family man! Who would've thunk it? Let's take a glimpse at his rarely seen other half, shall we?



Dracula is a very passionate and patient individual, so I could see him working as a teacher at the local high school. He has the qualifications to become a college professor, but he takes greater pleasure in shaping young, impressionable minds. He would be head of the science department, heading up the introduction to human anatomy program. With his famous "What is a man? A miserable pile of organs!" speech at the start of each new year, he immediately captures the attention of all his pupils. He does catch a bit of flak for his controversial in-class human dissections, but he is nothing if not sympathetic to the concerns of parents and will accept waivers from students who wish not to participate.

Before that, he was a construction foreman. Dracula is known to take a hands-off approach towards any sizeable project, leaving the grunt work up to his loyal followers. Leading a team of masons and carpenters may grant him that same sense of control he experiences whenever he plots Armageddon on the surface world. Under his stern but fair guidance, his company has become renowned for their ability to construct an entire housing development before their lunch break. If you think about it, he is forced to reconstruct Castlevania literally out of thin air following every defeat. The man definitely knows a thing or two about laying two-by-fours.

After putting in a few centuries of hard labor, Dracula is able to retire comfortably on the support of a sizeable pension plan. Just sitting on the couch, watching reruns of The Witching Hour would be a terrible waste of the remainder of the hereafter, so the Lord of Darkness would probably want to keep himself occupied with a few side projects. He's been thinking of getting a part-time job at someplace quiet, like an occult bookstore or the menswear department at Brimstones. What he'd like to do most, however, is open up his own record store. He's always been a lover of classical and baroque styles, but he's got an ear for more contemporary fare as well. He's really big on fusion styles and shares this love with everyone, including his enemies, by installing speakers throughout Castlevania. Music is the language of the soul, after all.

Dracula gave politics a shot when he ran for mayor of the underworld. His environmental platform included town-wide beautification and the preservation of the area's thinning blood crow population. Ultimately, he lost the election by failing to appeal to mummy voters. He had proposed medical supply cuts (gauze, bandages, formaldehyde, etc.) and hoped to redirect those funds towards fiscally irresponsible blood bank expansions. His landslide failure put a damper on any desire to run for public office ever again.



This may come as a shock, but Dracula also loves the theater! He joined a local acting troupe that has put on a number of productions, even some the human realm! See, when it comes to the arts, there is no prejudice. Further performances of Bram Stoker's Dracula have been put on indefinite hold after a single night. Dracula (in the lead role, natch), had hoped to thrill the audience by shaving his signature mustache and goatee and imitating Béla Lugosi. Catcalls arose from the throngs, jesting that he bore a greater resemblance to Boris Karloff. In response, Dracula torched the crowd in a rain of hellfire. Don't worry! He was welcomed back after delivering a public apology. In fact, his little outburst actually drove up attendance!

But where would Dracula be without the love and support of his wife and children? After vowing that he would never love another human woman, Dracula met his new love Freya, a reserved valkyrie with a master's in social anthropology. She likes to study large groups of people, he likes to slaughter large groups of people. It was meant to be!



Together, they sired two especially malevolent demon spawn, one male and one female. Since Dracula's now cramped apartment was no place to raise kids, the family found a nice, cozy two-bedroom house on the outskirts of town. Freya gladly stayed at home while her husband put food on the table, but Dracula was not about to condemn his treasure to an eternity of housework. He saved up enough to hire a caretaker who would manage the house and look over the children until they were old enough to fend for themselves. He never shirked his role as a father and always made sure to devote his free time to his young ones.

However, with every game of catch played and every school recital attended, Dracula felt a sharp pain at the pit of his stomach. He still remembers that bastard Adrian, how he was the spitting image of his father, how he came up with that cute nickname by spelling his old man's name backwards. And how does he repay his father's devotion? By murdering him! On more than one occasion, even! He would rather side with those abhorrent humans and their precious aspirations of peace and good will! Bah!

Dracula kept Adrian's existence a secret from everyone. He worked hard to serve his community and was not about to mar his reputation because of a halfie with an agenda. Nevertheless, there are always whispers from the surface that would find their way to the underworld denizens. One evening, his daughter returned home from the mall and inquired, "Daddy? Who's Alucard?" That was the first and last time Dracula ever raised a hand to his family, but the echoes of that smack would be felt for years to come. He locked himself in his den, tearing the room apart as he shouted, "I have no son! I have no son! I HAVE NO SON!"

The neighbors heard the commotion and the rumor mill churned once more, instilling fear into any hapless ghoul who had thoughts of teasing the Ruler of the Night about his earthly lineage. Though he apologized profusely to his family for his actions, he never revealed the whole truth concerning his firstborn. Regardless, Freya uncovered the detail through extensive snooping. On some nights, she can spy him in the corner of his den, resting his head against the wall, bathing in the glow of the blood-red nether moon, clutching the only photograph of Adrian he possessed, weeping ever so softly.



But never mind the skeletons in his closet, literal and figurative! No man is without faults, and Dracula is no exception. He's just a regular guy who happens to be an immortal vampire king. Speaking of which, when the hour approaches that he is to be summoned to Earth, he calls up his best friend Death and they excitedly discuss their plans with an exuberance of a couple of gambling junkies on their way to the dog races: "Yes! This is it! I can feel it in my bones! This will be the day I win big!" His wife always shakes her head and warns that he is only setting himself for disappointment once more. It's his one vice, yet he can never play the game well.

Once he is slain, Dracula will rematerialize in the land of the damned, march slowly up that long driveway, and gaze into his wife's patient yet reproachful eyes. Before she can squeeze in her two cents, he will quickly interject with a "Don't say a word!" or "Next time will be the one! You'll see!" He'll then collapse in his easy chair, uncork a choice vintage, and mutter something about that two-timing Death feeding him false insider information.

Once that happens, the Earth will breathe a collective sigh of relief. The Belmonts and their companions will be hailed as heroes. The Romanian countryside will flourish once more. Meanwhile, Dracula will build a ship in a bottle or check out that new corner deli or something.

The first annual Infinite Bits convention was a huge success. A lot of awesome went down that weekend. Many big names swung on by, including Douglas Walker a.k.a. The Nostalgia Critic. At the end of his panel, he invited whoever was bold enough to visit his hotel room that evening for some nighttime shenanigans.

No, not those kinds of shenanigans! The "come be in one of my awesome videos" kind!

Doug was filming an episode of Video Game Confessions, a spin-off series starring Dominic, a bartender at an upscale restaurant frequented by famous faces in the gaming community. Stars like Mario, Sonic, and Lara croft have spilled some of their deepest, darkest, and most disgusting secrets under the mistaken impression that Dominic respects confidentiality.

For this episode, cosplayers posed as their in-game counterparts while attendees sans costumes posed as close friends of video game icons. The guests were given free reign to improvise with Doug only suggesting minor direction changes. We've got Frank West (mistakenly credited as Fred West), Mr. Game & Watch, the Green Ranger, and more.

Rocking Ashley Davis's bodacious Become T-shirt (Destructoid plug!), I appear a little after the halfway mark on behalf of my dear friend Mega Man. It has been forever since I've seen myself captured on film so I don't know what to make of my performance. I'm confident in declaring that everyone else rocked the joint to hell and back!

Of course, Egoraptor has to come in and upstage everyone, the douche! Naw, I'm joking! He's a great guy, and his Little Mac is phenomenal! Everyone was phenomenal! It was so much fun and we all had some good laughs, tripping over our words and fucking up the takes. Doug is amazing and it is so cool that he would go to such lengths for his fans.

You can catch the video right here.

As a bonus, I snapped a few behind-the-scenes photos of the filming. Please ignore the bright-ass light spots.

Poking fun at bad games is great and all, but it's so satisfying to play that rare gem, that one game that makes all the effort you exhausted to track it down worth it. I am happy to announce that this week's game fits that bill to the letter.

It took me a few weeks to wrap this guy up. My living arrangement isn't quite conducive to long stretches of quiet time during which I can gather my thoughts and get serious work done. That's why I've got to find another place to live. If anyone is renting out a room or if you know of a foreclosed house that I could squat in for a few months, I would love to hear about it.

But I digress. This was a lengthy title but was well worth it. Before I even jump into the review, I'm giving you guys the thumbs up to track it down and give it a go. This game's quality shouldn't be all that surprising. When your source is the venerable Zelda series, you have to really be gunning for bottom-of-the-barrel status to produce anything less than excellence.



OFFENDER: Alundra
DEVELOPED BY: Matrix Software
RELEASED ON: PS1, 1997
TASTES LIKE: The Legend of Zelda

Alundra was the first title developed by Matrix Software, a company composed of members that had worked on Landstalker for the Sega Genesis. I have not played that game, but from what little I've seen of it the art style is unmistakably similar. I wish I could say that if you enjoyed Landstalker then you will enjoy Alundra, but I honestly wouldn't know.

If you need other credentials, Matrix Software is also responsible for the 3D Final Fantasy remakes on the DS as well as that new Light Warriors game and the recently localized Nostalgia. Hopefully, that should give you enough of an idea of where these cats are coming from.

For the company's freshman effort, it crafted an action-adventure that shares more than a few elements with Nintendo's Zelda franchise. Now, this game was released a whole year before Ocarina of Time landed, so the innovations brought about by the latter were yet to be realized. In stark contrast, Alundra keeps to the overhead perspective that gamers had been familiar with up until then. This presents a remarkable divide in how the genre could be advanced. Alundra is like what Zelda would have been like if it had used the power of the then-current technology to expand upon the 2D template as opposed to embracing the third dimension.



As you may remember, the manual for A Link to the Past includes a long-ass back-story that reads like a history book. Likewise, the manual for Alundra is unnecessarily thick and contains its own game world primer. To be as brief as I can, you are Alundra, a member of the elvish Elna clan who possess the ability to explore the people's dreams. In Alundra's world, the King had decreed that all idols of deities be destroyed, yet praying to idols is the only way for the people to maintain their connection with the gods. Without divine blessing, the people lose zest for life and become plagued by health-affecting nightmares, so it is upon you, the Dreamwalker, to exorcise the demons from these troubled souls.

Essentially, the story is a critical condemnation of idol worship as well as religion in general. At times the message is subtle while at other times it's all up in your face. It definitely surprised me and I'm sure it would make some of you just a tad bit uncomfortable. But regardless....



HOW SHAMELESS IS IT?

Preachy messages aside, this game is phenomenal. It has an identity of its own yet borrows enough from Zelda to remind you of its roots. You can equip both a weapon and a subitem at once, ranging from swords with charge attacks to bows and from bombs to screen-blanketing magic spells. You collect Life Vessels to add HP to your stamina meter and cut down bushes and break into people's homes to acquire Gilder, the game's currency. There are pig-faced creatures reminiscent of Moblins, a fairy in a pond, and even a fortune teller.

Of course, all games have their share of problems, but the better a game is, the more apparent and unwelcome its issues wind up being. Therefore, before I really dive into the meat and potatoes of Alundra, I want to talk about how it displeased me. I figure I'd just get the bullshit out of the way so that we can enjoy ourselves without any heavy clouds hanging overhead.



Alundra's default moveset is identical to that of Link save for two additional techniques. There is a dash, similar in function to the Pegasus Boots, as well as a jump, similar in function to Roc's Feather. The former is a rarely needed except for a couple of puzzles while the latter is required for just about any situation. Jumping in Zelda is a simple affair -- hop a little pothole here, clear a gap there, always on level ground. In Alundra, you will be hopping like a spastic jackrabbit as you traverse the rockiest overworld in video game history.

It's insane just how far the developers shove the assumingly simple act of jumping down your throat. What's so nerve-wracking is that the overhead view makes judging elevation a trial-and-error exercise. I dare say it's worse than Scurge: Hive since your only concern there is whether or not you are able to judge distance properly. With this extra degree of frustration, compounded by the frequency jumping during puzzles and basic overworld traversal, I figure that you spend roughly a third of total playtime climbing back up layers of platforms because the cliff face that you thought was on your level was actually ten feet higher.



My next issue concerns the overworld map or, more specifically, the lack thereof. One of many faults in the original Zelda is the absence of an overworld map, but at least you have a position marker to give you a general idea of where you are. Alundra doesn't even offer that much, so you must rely on memorization or archaic note-taking to guide you. Granted, the world isn't all that massive, but still. Three buttons on the controller open up the inventory... you would figure at least one of them could have been used to open a God damn map screen.

Shockingly, there is an overworld map. When you visit the fortune teller in order to gain your bearings, she will identify your next target with a flashing marker on a map in her possession. If the developers went to all the trouble of actually programming that shit into the game, why couldn't they have given you access to it at any time? There is a physical map included in the game case, but everything other than the central village is blurred out as though someone has smeared Vaseline on the page. That's dickery at its finest.

No, dickery at its finest would be the lack of maps even in the dungeons! Dungeons are laid out in a linear fashion to compensate for a lack of guide, but you still need to travel off the beaten path to discover the more elusive treasure chests. Nevertheless, as the game progresses and the dungeons grow more labyrinthine, you really begin to curse the developers' apathy. How else are you going to know for certain if you have collected all the treasure in a particular level?



It's that last bit which leads me to the rancid walnut topping on this hot fudge ass-cream sundae. This game is rife with one-time item pickups. There are key story events after which areas of the world or certain dungeons are no longer accessible. If you don't remember to collect a zone's items in the allotted period then you are royally boned. In Zelda, if you pass over a bonus weapon or Heart Piece, there is nothing preventing you from returning at a later time and retrieving it. If you missed something in Alundra, fuck you. You should have bought the strategy guide, dumbass.

It's bad enough that you are given time-sensitive windows, but even worse is how missing one tiny thing initiates a chain reaction of absurdity. There is a particular item called the Secret Pass that I didn't learn about until consulting GameFAQs towards the end of my adventure. The Secret Pass grants you access to the casino under the bar into which I spent most the game trying to gain entry. At no point does an NPC tell you, "Hey, you can't come in without a pass!" No clue was given, so I was forever restricted from playing the casino games. As such, I couldn't earn a slew of Life Vessels. As such, I was never told the purpose of these bullshit Gilded Falcon statues I had wasted time collecting. As such, I couldn't trade those statues for even more Life Vessels and four very useful bonus weapons and accessories. All because I forgot to climb into some dude's chimney during the two times in the game when his fireplace wasn't running.

Motherfucker.



You know what though? Quibbles. As bothersome as these problems are, they do not mar what is on the whole a marvelous experience. Everything screams "polish" in Alundra. For example, take the sprites which are highly detailed and rival the best of the SNES era. Using the power of the PS1, there are a few extra graphical flourishes that highlight the attention to detail. Unfortunately, the overall aesthetic is hindered by some stiff animations and a rather dull, washed-out color palette, but again, quibbles.

Let's talk about the sweeping score. It's like a blend of Koji Kondo and Nobuo Uematsu with a sprinkle of Chrono Trigger's Yasunori Mitsuda thrown in for good measure. I wouldn't say it's the kind of music you'd find yourself humming in the shower, but I do not deny its quality. Just check out the overworld theme and hear the influences yourself.

That's why I find it so curious that Working Designs, the US publisher, opted to write a new intro theme for the localization. As you can see below, we get disgusting butt rock that is at odds with every other composition in the game. Was this necessary? Chalk it up to the ol' American Xtreme marketing angle. Gnarly, bro.



In a way, Alundra is indeed an extreme game. Whereas the Zelda franchise aims to be as accessible as possible, Alundra is targeted squarely at those players who do three-heart, no-death runs for kicks and giggles. It's a title for the seasoned adventurer, one who is well-versed in the nuances and mechanics of the action-RPG genre. In-game text instructions for particular puzzles are unbelievably vague and many environmental obstacles demand an almost innate approach to circumventing them. Whether you consider that a plus or a minus depends entirely on your gaming history.



In regards to enemies, you'll find yourself near death more often than in any recent Zelda title. Foes, especially bosses, are extremely aggressive and can drain a sizeable fraction of your health in a single hit. With no shield available to you, encounters tend to reward first-movers more often than careful planners. For this reason, the game stocks health-restoration items in roughly two out of every three treasure chests. You will find so many herbs and tonics that the problem becomes having to leave some behind because there is no more room in your inventory. Even so, if you wish to see the reach the end without facing a game over, you will have to burn through those potions until your supply is exhausted, and there's still no guarantee that you will survive long enough to score your next fix.

That's not to say you aren't thrown a bone here and there. Unlike in Zelda, you have an unlimited supply of bombs and arrows. It feels great not having to micromanage your ammunition on top of health and magic. It's also nice that, aside from starting a new game or continuing one in progress, you never once see a loading screen. Loads between areas are so fast that it never becomes an issue. I wish more games from the PS1 era were as streamlined as this.



In an unusual twist on typical clone game expectations, there are a few elements in Alundra that predate their Zelda counterparts. For one, there is a volcano dungeon with a dragon guardian and what sounds like Muslim chanting in the background. Fire Temple, anyone? Second, one of Alundra's weapons is a metal flail that can be swung around the head, something that Nintendo just recently introduced in Twilight Princess. Coincidence, or was Eiji Aonuma inspired by a certain forgotten PlayStation classic?

If there is one area in which Alundra and Zelda do not compare, it is in their narratives. Even at its most dire, I wouldn't consider any Zelda game to be "dark." Alundra, on the other hand, goes to great lengths to drive the impact of the terrible evil that is sweeping the land. Even when the mood is light and jubilant, there is always this gnawing at the pit of your stomach, making you feel guilty for finding joy during a period of great suffering.



The game is effective at evoking those emotions because of its narrow focus on a single town. Everything begins and ends in Inoa, the village that took you in after you were found unconscious and shipwrecked. You meet every NPC, each with unique quirks and relationship ties. You live in the home of Jess, a blacksmith who lost his wife and child yet grows to love you as a son. All these characters put on a strong front, faithful that their gods will deliver them from the nightmares plaguing their slumber. With the aid of the dream researcher Septimus, you start entering people's dreams (trippy miniature dungeons with bosses and everything) and casting out the evil spirits.



The more you try to help, though, the more the villagers suffer. The dark force at work, Melzas, a centuries-old alien invader masquerading as a god, has tricked the people into worshipping him and restoring his power. When he notices you restoring the villagers' dreams, he crafts deadlier nightmares. Soon, people start to die. You are blamed for their deaths. Every time someone passes, a new tombstone appears in the cemetery, a painful reminder that perhaps your noble intentions are placing Inoa in greater jeopardy.



Each time someone dies, Jess becomes inspired to forge you a new tool. It's a chilling means of expanding your inventory. In Zelda, most of the major items are found in dungeons. In Alundra, each weapon represents a recently deceased soul. When you wake up in the morning and hear Jess hammering away in his smithy, rather than being excited, you feel dread as you wait for the other shoe to drop, to hear news that another one of your friends, the folk who have welcomed you with open arms, has died before his or her time.



It escalates. More people fall. Distrust is sewn. People's faith is challenged. Soon, you face a tragedy so great that you wonder if the pain you bear will ever leave. In your despair, you question if you are truly the person you thought you were. Perhaps the whispers were true. Perhaps you are the demon who has come to the village to shatter the last vestiges of hope that these unfortunate people clung on to.



Damn. Link never had to deal with this.

Your blood boils. Someone has to pay. These people must have their faith restored. They may hate you, but a true hero isn't in the business for the fame or the glory. That's who Alundra is.

Why the fuck aren't you playing this game right now?

THE FRESH PRINCE SCALE OF HEAVY "SAMPLING" IN ORDER TO... NAW! I AIN'T GONNA MESS WIT' WILL SMITH!:

Believe it or not, there was a time when Square made stuff other than Final Fantasy. Does anyone remember that stuff was? Of course not. No one cares. Its first games were about as impactful as a housefly suicide bombing a Mack truck.

The company dabbled in a little platforming here, a little scrolling shooter there. Did you know that Rad Racer is a Square-developed title? Oh, snap. Did I just blow your mind? Now that you think about it, doesn't Rad Racer remind you a bit of Out Run?

It would appear that Square drew "inspiration" from Sega on more than one occasion. Just some months before Rad Racer, Square released a game called 3-D WorldRunner that looked suspiciously like Space Harrier. When asked about the connection, game designer Hironobu Sakaguchi admitted to "liking Space Harrier" but insisted that his game was intended as a technical showcase rather than as a "tribute. "

I'll be the judge of that.



OFFENDER: 3-D WorldRunner
DEVELOPED BY: Square
RELEASED ON: NES, 1987
TASTES LIKE: Space Harrier

3-D WorldRunner, full title The 3-D Battles of WorldRunner, has the distinction of being the first Square-developed game to be released in the US. It was one of Hironobu Sakaguchi's first games while at Square. In addition to that, it was scored by Nobuo Uematsu. Before Final Fantasy, these yet-to-be giants were attached to some really, really forgettable projects.

The story is even more bare-bones than I've come to expect from NES-era narrative. Alien Serpentbeasts led by Grax have attacked Solar System #517 and it's up to you to stop him. How do you do it? By running. And running. And running some more. Sometimes jumping, but mostly just running. Shooting is optional.

Across eight worlds you are haulin' ass and jumping and running and jumping and sprinting and jumping. For a game that takes its cues from Space Harrier, there seems to be an abundance footwork. Keep reminding yourself as you are playing that this game was made by the team responsible for the most popular RPG franchise on the planet. Maybe you'll distract yourself just enough so that you don't notice your brain alchemizing itself into a big, steaming hunk of elephant turd.

But you can press the select button at any time and go into 3D mode! Oooooh! Stereoscopic 3D! What a treat! Now it's an elephant turd that can actually make your eyes bleed. Who needs 3D television when you've got flimsy cardboard glasses that can break apart after light water damage?



HOW SHAMELESS IS IT?

It happened. It finally happened. This was the game that sent me over the edge.

After pressing start, I just stared slack-jawed at the screen for a solid minute, trying to grasp what exactly it was that I was seeing. I cocked my head to one side and squinted my eyes, as if I was looking at a Magic Eye and the real game would reveal itself if I gazed through the image. I willed myself out of my vegetative state and tried to get on with what was quickly becoming a strange and upsetting evening.

You run! All you do is fucking run! You don't stop moving, you can only control your speed by pressing up or down. It's a rail shooter, but it's missing a key ingredient: Shooting! No, I'm sorry. There is laser blaster that you can acquire, if you are lucky, which can be used until you lose a life whereby it's greedily snatched away from you. Not that it makes sense to shoot at anything in this game as you have better luck jumping over baddies and hoping you land safely.



Look at how this fucker runs! It's like he's got full-blown IBS and is trying to get to the bathroom before he craps his space suit. That's the only way I can explain how awkwardly the WorldRunner moves. The controls are unbelievable sensitive. Anything other than the gentlest of love taps and you are zipping halfway across the screen. Why, in a game about running, in which the game forces you to run, in which the only thing you do is run, is the protagonist a tweaked-out meth head who can't maneuver without having a fucking spaz attack?

Psssh... what am I saying? There's also jumping! Every five seconds you have to jump over a mile-wide canyon. You have to push up to speed up and then hold down the jump button to fly like Evel Knievel, but then the gap abruptly ends and you overshoot the ground and plunge right into the next hole. Why? Because you can't fucking see where you are going! You are expected to know not to hold down the jump button as long for this particular jump so that you may be prepared for the next jump, but then you think that next hap will be narrow as well so you release the jump button early and you plummet into the abyss. You are blind. It's blind jumping. Week-long, half-off special blind jumps! Get them while you are still sane!



There are items, but fat lot of fuck they do for you. There's these dinky stars you can collect for points, but points in this game are about as valuable as points in Whose Line Is It Anyway? There's the aforementioned laser that won't stop enemies from zipping in from the corners and tripping your shit. There's poison mushrooms, the dicks. And then there is invincibility. Good ol' invincibility. Lasts all of four seconds, literally. That gives you just enough time to do nothing.

How do you actually collect these items? Oh, here's the best part! You see those marble pillars on the horizon? Run into one. Smash your face right into the column. As your momentum drops to zilch and you reel back from the impact, an item will pop out, waiting you to reach out and grab it. It's like the game is trying to warn you. When your in-game avatar is giving himself multiple concussions on purpose, you should probably consider finding another activity.

I've yet to discuss how 3-D WorldRunner compares to Space Harrier. Rather than burning fuel in the skies, taking down alien scum with a sweet-ass jet pack and rifle, you are grounded and left to fend for yourself like an unwanted pet. You see the checkerboard ground pattern and you get the sense that this could be what Space Harrier is like if you had your jet pack license revoked for drunken flying. Ironic how the game where you actually use your feet is the one that makes you feel like a paraplegic.



Are you ready for the big kick to the bojangles? At the end of every world, you fight one of the eight Serpentbeasts that fly in and out of the foreground akin to the snake-like foes in Space Harrier. Only now... only now... are you given the ability to fly around and shoot lasers with reckless abandon. The WorldRunner was packing a ride this whole time and was holding out on us, the fucking hoarder.

This game is just annoying. The music is a cacophony of migraine-inducing torture. Was this Uematsu's chaotic period? Are you sure this is the same guy who is praised as one of the greatest if not the greatest game composers of all time? Did he have a seizure at the keyboard? What the hell is this? It's the same song in every level, too! Same song, all the time. My God. Over and over. There's no escaping it!

Everything stops you dead in your tracks. There are these Hamburger Helper motherfuckers who track your movements and push you back when you try to run around them. You can't shoot them either. Heaven help if you should be over a canyon when one of these a-holes appears to bitch smack you.

There was this one level where you have to cross this hundred-mile gap by bouncing on spring platforms, but they aren't in a straight line. No, they zigzag, so you have to hit them just right but you don't know if you can because you can't judge distance in this game. You can't line up properly with the springs because the D-pad sends you careening off into Michigan or some nonsense.

There is no variety at all. The only differences between levels are backgrounds and the concentration of bullshit per square foot. The bosses are all the same. The only difference from the first boss and later bosses is that the latter ones respawn several times before going down for good. Once you've played through one world, I suggest just putting down the controller and taking up knitting or something because you are done.

I couldn't take the monotony, so I decided to zoom to the last level with the help of Game Genie. Unfortunately, the best code only drops you off at World 7. That's just fucked up when not even Game Genie wants to give you a break. I tried to brute force my way through World 7 anyway, dying who knows how many times. Every time you die, you get sent to the start of a level. Die at a boss, you have to start from the beginning of the level prior to the boss. And if you get a game over? Back to the World 1, unless you hold down the A button while pressing start! That's the continue feature I read in the manual! If it is so necessary, why doesn't the game just let me... ya know... continue without having to do button combos? It makes no sense that continuing isn't a default option in a game like this, especially when the manual makes it clear that it is not some ultra-mysterious secret.



World 8 arrives and the game decided to throw a curveball in the 11th hour by giving me canyons that are too wide to jump across with no springs to aid me. I tried jumping at different angles before going back to the manual and learning that you can jump atop pillars. I didn't see any though, not unless you count those fire columns that kill you upon contact. Am I to jump on those? The columns of fire that I've spent the entire game avoiding? Columns of fire that any rational human would avoid like the plague? I tried several times to jump on them and... yep, burned myself. Eventually, I hit the tip of one ever so precisely and bounced to the next. I knew I was never going to repeat this feat when I inevitable had to repeat the mess, so I shut the game off and took a long, cold shower.

I cannot recommend this game at all. At all. How could anyone stand this? The worst part is that every impression I've read about the game online has been, on average, positive. What game were these guys playing? Is this some kind of mass hallucination? Did the Gooch hypnotize them with his unholy magic? It's the fucking glasses, I would stake my brother's life on it.

Positive reviews or not, no one cares about this slop anymore. Good. No one cares. I don't care. You don't care. The damn WorldRunner himself doesn't care. Go have a plate of nachos and let's leave this horrible episode behind us.



THE MADtv SCALE OF LIVE PROGRAMMING ON SATURDAY NIGHT:

The other week, someone asked if I really play through all the games for this feature. I'm like, fuckin' duh! Of course I do!

There are just some things you can't grasp unless you experience them firsthand. I could probably just watch YouTube clips or speed runs and be done with it, but then I wouldn't have the satisfaction of self-discovery. I like not knowing if this will be the week I finally kill myself because I can't stand this shit anymore. Maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised and put away the cyanide for another day. Who knows!

Most of these games I have never played before. I hunt them down, play them, and deliver my impressions. It's as much a mystery to me as it is to you. You get your jollies, I get mine, and everybody is relatively satisfied. Sounds like we've got a good thing going on.

So that begs the question: Is this week a shit sandwich, a slice of day-old pizza, or a Dairy Queen sundae? Let's discuss Scurge: Hive and find out together.



OFFENDER: Scurge: Hive
DEVELOPED BY: Orbital Media
RELEASED ON: GBA/DS, 2006
TASTES LIKE: Metroid

Orbital Media is (was?) a curious company. It opened up in 2003 and made a few games of above-average quality before vanishing into the ether. Much like a discount ninja. It didn't finish its ninjutsu training but took a few jobs in order to fund a weekend-long sushi binge. Yeah, I like to think that's exactly what happened.

One of its releases is Scurge: Hive, a Metroidvania that comes in two kickin' flavors, original GBA and extra-crispy DS. The only difference between the two is that the map is always visible on the DS's touch screen. I like knowing where I'm going without having to open the status menu every time I enter a new room, so the DS is my weapon of choice. The fact that the game is a Metroidvania doesn't land it in Copycat Central. Neither Metroid nor Castlevania hold a monopoly on non-linear platforming. No, what lands the game in hot water is how the story is note for note identical to Metroid Fusion.

Something goes awry within the planet "Inos" research station. A parasitic organism known as "Scurge" has spread throughout the lab and infected all captive specimens. The "Military" contacts renowned bounty hunter "Jenosa Arma" to investigate the lab and discover what happened to the staff. With a "bio-suit" that can resist the infection of the "Scurge" and a computer A.I. navigator named "Magellan" that highlights save rooms and new targets on the map, "Jenosa" is prepared for the worst.

Good gravy. Whenever I boot up the game, I always expect to see a disclaimer to reads, "The following is based on actual events. The names have been changed to protect the innocent." It's absolutely nuts. And the name "Jenosa Arma"? "Arma"? That's one fucking letter shift from "Aran"! These guys are phoning it in on a pair of soup cans tethered by a string! Should I have any hope for this game at all? At all?



HOW SHAMELESS IS IT?

As you can see from the image and video above, the game plays a teensy bit differently than the Metroid series proper. Instead of a side-scrolling view, Scurge: Hive is played from an -- *drum roll* -- isometric perspective! Fantastic! Who doesn't love some solid isometric platforming? Think of all those classics like... ummm... lemme think... err... Sonic 3D Blast! And... ummm... fuck it.

Isometric platforming is total bullshit. What synapses of the brain must be burned out in order for such a mechanic to be considered appropriate? You have a cross pad with four cardinal directions, so let's make a game where you travel chiefly along diagonal paths. Playing an isometric platformer is a lot like looking at the world through the eye of a Cyclops. Depth perception? Who needs that? I'm almost certain you can make the jump to that suspended pillar on your first try or six.

The game is glitchy, too. Thankfully, the bugs rarely impede gameplay and mostly serve as minor aesthetic annoyances. When Jenosa or an enemy is obscured by an object, a dark silhouette appears to let you know where they are, but sometimes your figure will be shaded when there is nothing blocking your view. Some floor tiles behave like foreground tiles, so standing over them will cause you to vanish. Minor enemies may explode for no reason whatsoever. Hell, there was a curious incident during which I entered noclip mode and started floating over the environment like it was a place mat before passing off the map.



But to be completely honest, the game as a whole is not that bad. It's not whiz-bang amazing, but it's a step up from the utter dogshit I've subjected myself to lately.

Like Samus, Jenosa gains a versatile set of beams of her own, but they serve more specialized purposes than those from Metroid. Each weapon can be fired continuously by holding down the fire button until your charge meter depletes, after which you must wait for enough charge to rebuild. A rock-paper-scissors mechanic is at work whereby certain enemies are susceptible to a certain weapon. Biological creatures are burned by the combustion beam, robots are fried by the EMP beam, and energy-based foes are disintegrated by the dissipator beam. However, enemies can also be made more powerful when hit by the beam they are resilient against. When a room throws foes of all types at you, you'll need to cycle through the three main beams and avoid strengthening one type while attacking another.



As is typical in a Metroidvania, the attributes of all your acquired tools will help to access previously restricted zones. There are also other tools that can slow time, blow through hardened obstacles, and freeze nearby enemies for use as blocks to trigger pressure-sensitive buttons. Jenosa even has a grapple beam that can pull large objects and be used to slingshot across large gaps, a function which I must once again stress is made needlessly cumbersome by the stupid isometric nonsense. Be prepared to miss the landing by falling far to the left or right of the target over and over again.

Enemies will drop floating globs of bio-matter upon their defeat which can be absorbed in order to regain health much like the X parasites from Metroid Fusion. In addition, each glob builds up an experience meter that when leveled up will increase your max health and the recharge rate of your blaster. Amazingly, the game is paced in such a way that unless you are purposely avoiding whole hordes of enemies you will either be completely maxed out or close to it by the endgame. The experience system also eliminates the need for item fetch quests, so those of you who despise hunting down that next trinket to add another percentage point to your completion rate can rest soundly.

The constant threat throughout the game is not the enemies but the infection meter at the top of the screen. Jenosa's suit only slows the spread of the Scurge through her body, and once the meter hits 100% her health will begin to deplete rapidly. Save rooms double as decontamination stations; there is always one nearby. You shouldn't really feel the threat of total infection unless you are playing on one of the higher difficulty levels. Sometimes, you may feel bold enough to hold out on saving as long as possible and thus find that the infection has reached the critical stage, but even then you can absorb the bio-matter to regain enough health to last you until that next decontamination.



That's nice and all, but Scurge: Hive still fails in a few other areas. Without item pickups, there is no purpose for exploration. You enter a room, clear out some jokers, unlock a gate, and then move on. After you have completed a specific mission, that zone of the lab becomes inaccessible from the central hub. Rooms become nothing more than battle arenas as you face wave after wave of critters. The situation grows especially monotonous in the final stretch of the game when you traverse the tunnels of the planet's forest and more and more of the map keeps opening up with no end in sight. As such, the game doesn't invite a second or third playthrough.

On the plus side, the sprite work is amazing. Everything is so fluid and colorful! Jenosa's hair is especially ridiculous. Look at that ponytail! She puts Nariko from Heavenly Sword to shame! And the music! It's another solid effort by Jake Kaufman a.k.a. virt. You know, the guy who did the music for Shantae and Contra 4.

Then we've got bosses out the wazoo. These cats will murder you. I'm serious. Even if the rest of the game seems to drag on, these guys will slap you awake then ream you from behind.



So the game turned out all right in the end, surprisingly. It's tougher than any Metroid I've played, but then again it's not really like Metroid at all. Okay, sure, the backstory is a terrible copy-paste job and there actually is a Metroid-ish jellyfish creature that appears a few hours in which drains your health upon latching to your head. Aside from that, the game does its own thing. If you can get over the game's sour bits, you might find it worth your while.

It would seem that my profanity today has been pretty modest. I know you guys have expectations, so let me play catch up. *ahem* SHIT, FUCK, BALLSACK, FUCKIN' HORSESHIT ON A POGO STICK OF ASS, WHOREFACE, ASS-GRABBIN' DILLWEED TURD, COCK-STROKER, FUCK NUGGETS, TIT BASTARD, ASS MASTER, MOTHERFUCKIN' JEAN RENO!

Happy?

THE CORPORATE-SPONSORED SCALE OF THE MADE-FOR-TV BEATLES: