thisoneheredude

One of my many seemingly random and certainly useless memories from my childhood comes from about the turn of the millennium; given certain aspects that I can piece together, I'd place it somewhere around mid-2000, give or take a little bit. My cousin was in high school and had been going through a rebellious phase, and I was lucky enough to be left in her care for an afternoon--whenever this had happened, I would always be a bit nervous, yet kind of cautiously excited. This particular time, she had taken us by bus to a downtown shopping center called Tower City, which is now rather hollowed-out compared to its former self, yet is fondly remembered by many Clevelanders as a vibrant hangout and host of plenty of cool shops back in the mall age of the 1990s. I don't remember having a particularly bad time while there, but what I do remember quite vividly is realizing that we didn't have enough money for the bus trip back and having to beg for money from strangers. I was kind of scared upon reaching that realization, but also felt kind of cool and rebellious; having been a mostly straitlaced kid up until then, being irresponsible and getting into trouble felt totally wild.

The other thing that I remember is, sometime during that trip, briefly visiting a now long-defunct video game store and playing the then recently released Dreamcast for a few minutes. I couldn't really get very far with it, but while there I did see a copy of Mega Man Legends 2 sitting on a shelf. I couldn't help but stare for a while at it; by then I was already a budding fan of the entire Mega Man franchise, so while it wasn't quite anything that I hadn't seen before, I was still enraptured for about a minute just gazing at it and musing on how cool it looked, or rather, how Mega Man himself looked: the all-blue color scheme, the odd but appealing armor design, and the style of CG that was still a ways away from photorealistic but had its own unique charm all enthralled 4-to-6-year-old me [for reference: http://www.legends-station.com/mml2/coverart/europe1.jpg].

The reason that I brought up this autobiographical monologue is because even if it may have happened after the decade had ended, to me this episode embodied a lot of the 90s with its display of casual "rebellion, I guess" through edgy irresponsibility and youthful attempts at independence (not to mention the setting), as well as summarizing a few key elements of the video game climate of that period--or perhaps better put, summarizing through my game store encounter and explaining with the trip as a whole.

For one thing, the Dreamcast, having been released in the phenomenon's twilight and its lifespan ending at about the same time, essentially summarized Japanese gaming around the late 90s era (which, of course, extended its dying grasp into partway through 2001). Though the trio of next-gen consoles that would follow it looked much more modern, seemingly attempting to symbolically bring gaming into the new millennium, the white, blocky, 1999-released Dreamcast looked like paraphernalia for a computer running Windows 98 [http://static.giantbomb.com/uploads/original/0/9566/393626-dreamcast.jpg]. Its roster of arcade ports was a reasonable summary of the best games to come out around that era, with a number of shmups courtesy of SEGA themselves and a few others, as well as the best versions of a solid collection of fighting games from SNK and Capcom (including a handful that remain exclusive to this day). After the failure of the Saturn, SEGA had a hard time reeling in third party developers, but there was one particular company that had given them support throughout this period...

In addition to the Dreamcast, the encounter with Mega Man Legends 2 is rather poignant, for it represents a certain art style that became popular around this period. A lot of games were coming out with a bright and a particularly "cartoony" style of anime with a distinctive proportional canon, which was often translated into or even presented in 3DCG. Mega Man Legends is a solid example of both of these things in its concept art [http://www.wired.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/mega-man-legends-key-art.png] and CG covers as well as polygon graphics respectively, as was Treasure's Mischief Makers [https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/3/31/Mischief_Makers.jpg], Namco's Panic Park [http://www.arcade-classics.com/panic_park/21021601.jpg], and many others. I can't speak with any authority on what was happening in Japan in the 90s that led to proliferation of this style, but I can make a case for why it caught on in the west around this time. In the 80s, lots of games from Japan had "Westernized" or "Americanized" box art for their target markets; Capcom was notorious for this, resulting in the original Astro Boy-inspired Mega Man cover [http://timewarpgamer.com/images/nes/mega_man/rockman_box_jp.jpg] being replaced by this infamous abomination [http://thegia.com/archive/features/boxart/megaman-tn.jpg] as well as some others that missed the mark [the mark: http://vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/bof/images/4/42/BoFIIBoxArt.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130616155706] but were kind of fun on their own merits [http://i.imgur.com/aHx9404.jpg]. However, due to the wild success of games like Chrono Trigger that kept their original art as well as the growing market for Japanese animation, the west finally managed to start getting non-bastardized versions of box covers and arcade cabinet decorations. Not only that, however, but circumstances seemed to favor this style catching on stateside; the Cold War had ended, the economy was doing well, and 9/11 hadn't yet struck and ushered in an era of terrorist paranoia--all in all, it wasn't a bad time to be alive. Dominant youth culture spearheaded by Nirvana portrayed a generation that was bored and restless due to unfulfilling suburban lives, yet all the same, life was about as good as it ever has been in America (at least when visiting the arcade). During this period, bright and upbeat presentation, roundedness, abundance of primary colors, and armor designs that were intentionally big and blocky displays of polygons were par for the course for many games and their cabinets, and it seemed that people related to it.

A number of companies employed this style and general idea, but none did it quite like Capcom. Tons upon tons of such games with such aesthetics (and arguably the best of such games with the best of such art) came from this company, and they seemed to be leading the charge for this movement. Consider the following: [http://www.theisozone.com/images/cover/dc_1776.jpg] [http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/megaman/images/8/82/Mm8promomaincharacters.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20100907195126] [http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/megaman/images/a/aa/Normal_mmx5promo.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20100420002539] Though they look rather similar in style to one another, each of those was made by a different artist. However, as one will note upon inspection, they do retain a number of stylistic differences; the takeaway, then, is not that they were attempting to assimilate, but that they were on the same page. The three artists responsible for the images above (Bengus, Ishikawa, and Suetsugu, respectively) wound up characterizing an era; they were not the only ones doing promotional art and boxart for the company around then, but they were certainly to credit for the most fondly remembered, as well as some of the most important.

So, that's nice and all, but is it all just a matter of secondary, even tertiary elements like promo materials and cabinet/manual decorations? Certainly not; the games themselves started to adopt a similar aesthetic as well. In 1994, Capcom's second most beloved fighting game series saw its first entry: Darkstalkers: The Night Warriors (or Vampire: The Night Warriors for our friends across the Pacific). Though this series is now merely a cult classic alive in the hearts of dedicated fighting game fans, it was a pretty big deal back in its heyday, with entries making names for themselves as some of the top earning arcade games at various points in time. Part of this was due to its fast gameplay and mechanics different from Street Fighter II, but an undeniable element of the charm was its visuals. SFII was a groundbreaking and terrific game mechanically and had a memorable cast of fun and wacky characters, but wasn't quite the best-looking game on the market--certainly not the worst, but still rather unremarkable [http://im.ziffdavisinternational.com/ign_br/screenshot/default/o-street-fighter-ii-facebook_eh5t.jpg]. Darkstalkers, on the other hand, had a new sprite style that was as detailed and masterfully rendered as it was bright and colorful (Does that phrase sound familiar?) [http://img.gamefaqs.net/screens/8/c/b/gfs_2023_2_9.jpg], which seems to be an odd contrast to the horror theme of the game until playing it and finding out what a part humor and wackiness plays in it. In addition to being a great step forward in the general graphics department and being a pleasing choice in artistic direction, it was indeed conducive to goofy hijinx, all of which made the new sprite style a potent candidate for the new fighting game based on the X-Men series. X-Men: Children of the Atom [https://archive.org/download/xdemo/xdemo.jpg] wound up being such a success and its visuals so praised that Street Fighter had adopted the style for the Alpha spinoff subseries [http://s.emuparadise.org/fup/up/411-Street_Fighter_Alpha_2_%28U%29-1.jpg], which then contributed to the Capcom crossover series: X-Men vs. Street Fighter, Marvel Super Heroes vs. Street Fighter, and Marvel vs. Capcom; it even spread to genres outside of fighting games, such as the action platformer Strider 2 [http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MbDX5AKQsu0/TcMRkLkxTzI/AAAAAAAAAzw/A8VuKH3qDdA/s1600/sdc2722851af640649cb630aae835ba0b.jpg]. It would seem that this in-game artstyle that became Capcom's signature actually guided the promotional and cabinet/box art; to illustrate this, compare this 1994 Darkstalkers art [http://65.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mb3debqquz1qcrzzno1_1280.jpg] to the 1999 Power Stone boxart from above. The latter was in what appears to be the characteristic style of the period and especially of his, while the former seems to point to it with its palette, proportions, and "explosive collage" presentation, yet doesn't quite seem to have fully broken from the early 90s style seen in the work of artists such as Akiman, who did the iconic poster for Street Fighter II: The World Warrior [https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/1/1d/SF2_JPN_flyer.jpg]. One may wonder if that's just a result of going for something different with different games; while it's true that he did seem to be going for a more "cartoony" look for the whimsical Power Stone, given that his work for later Darkstalkers [http://i.imgur.com/jE5fDMA.png] fell closer to the other works that he eventually did (and since Street Fighter Alpha found its way to this style as well [http://static.giantbomb.com/uploads/original/0/4340/438995-27.jpg]), the correct conclusion is instead that the visuals and wacky gameplay introduced in Darkstalkers guided the artists to where they found themselves in this period.

This piece is indeed mostly focused on the art of the time, because it just happens to be something that particularly stuck out to me around this period. However, as always is with (quality) video games, the actual game itself is of note. If the art is a consequence of the in-game visuals, the in-game visuals are a consequence of the gameplay ideas. Street Fighter II had a goofy cast of characters based on ethnic stereotypes who threw fireballs at each other, yet the gameplay was meant to be straightforward and rather humorless. Darkstalkers was made to be over the top, and though the Marvel fighters and crossover series weren't meant to be as humorous as Darkstalkers, they did take note from the speed and combo potential of their parent series, and invented battle systems that, being essentially fanservice games for those who were into Marvel and/or various Capcom franchises, were designed primarily to be flashy and cool-looking rather than balanced and competitive--of course they did not eschew those elements entirely, it was simply that they were most concerned with just making something that rewarded full-on technical virtuosity instead of strategic play balanced with execution, and moreover just looked fucking awesome.

This, then, was brought about by the situation in which Capcom had found themselves around this time. After the release of Street Fighter II, they had encountered incredible financial success, with the consistently-selling Mega Man series buttressing them as well--having a deal with Marvel to make official games certainly didn't hurt either. Resident Evil dropped just a few years later and became a tremendous hit; it was as if they could do no wrong. They were incredibly popular, they were rich as they could be, and yet still gave a fuck--the video game industry was just mainstream enough that it had the money and userbase to do lots of really cool things, but not so popular that companies were guided only by desire for profit or looking to dumb everything down in order to make easy bucks from the casual market, AND games didn't have to be as huge budget as they are now, so companies were much more willing to take risks. Though they may have been on life support by the turn of the millennium, arcades were still around and thus so was the quality control inherent to them [read the section under the "Why are arcade games so good?" subheading http://insomnia.ac/commentary/arcade_culture/]; all of this together indicated that you had a company that was into making cool video games because they liked cool video games. So, we have this one incredibly popular fighting game series, we'll keep making new entries for it since it's profitable and, of course, high quality. It's pretty cool and all, but since we have money and ideas, how about a wacky, fast-paced new fighting game series with a horror theme? Sure, why not? Darkstalkers! We've been watching a lot of Gundam and JoJo, how about a mech-based one with a flamboyant cast and more of a focus on story? No reason not to! Cyberbots! We have some ideas, but there's no real way of telling whether an arena fighting game that plays more like a 3D platformer might catch on. Who cares, it sounds cool! Power Stone! Hey remember Strider? It's about a decade old, but putting Hiryu into Marvel vs. Capcom made us kind of want to revisit it. Do you even have to ask? Strider 2! Going into 3D adventure would be a tremendous departure for the series...but who cares! Mega Man Legends! Maybe you don't remember all of them, but they had thrown out a lot of new IPs around then, and most of them were really neat (not to mention had some bitchin' logos [http://i.imgur.com/xBJwXdT.jpg]); so what if they haven't gone down in history, they were rad ideas. Now, obviously any company is going to have to be businessmen first, yet Capcom managed to be businessmen just enough for them to allow themselves to be people who just wanted to make lots of cool things. Thus, since they were doing incredibly well financially and were as passionate about their craft as they were about their craft (and by combination of those two, were able to realize all of their dreams), it only makes sense that it would manifest in a general sense of style that was characterized by upbeatness and energy; in other words, the art of the time was so great because the games and the credo of the company were as well. Though Mega Man X [http://vgboxart.com/boxes/PSX/67426-megaman-x5.png] was meant to be grittier and less whimsical than the classic series (visible in the scowls and threatening poses, as well as harder-edges and jawlines compared to the more childlike predecessor [http://www.smbhq.com/users/sss/pics/megaman.gif]), it still featured lots of bright primary colors and cartoonish proportions. Even more "serious" and "mature" franchises like Dino Crisis and Resident Evil had a good amount of campy fun to them as well, to the point that it didn't seem jarring at all when Jill Valentine and the zombies appeared in Marvel vs. Capcom 2 in the sprite style described above [http://i47.tinypic.com/6xybkj.png] and with art drawn by Bengus [http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/marvelvscapcom/images/0/0f/Jill_MvC2.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20120513221906] (MvC2's art may have had a duller palette, but still did retain the fun proportions and body language).

Indeed, it could even be said that Capcom embodied everything that was right about video games back then. Consoles did strike a blow against the existence of arcades, but they managed to exist alongside each other at least for the time being, which meant that Capcom was able to make easier, more long-playthrough-oriented games for home (Mega Man Legends, Resident Evil, Breath of Fire 3&4) and competitive fighting games (not to mention that in addition to the straight-to-the-point Street Fighter, meant to be a balanced and fully competitive experience, they were also willing and able to experiment) for the arcades (I've named enough already). They even could continue separately developing good console platformers (comfortably-paced and more precise with secrets and lots of content, e.g. Mega Man 8 and Mega Man X) and more arcade-style ones (faster, harder, more focus on enemies and combat, e.g. Strider 2). These, of course, were in addition to many others. Capcom had all of their bases covered at this point, and were on top of their game as far as nearly every single trend that was popular around the time. In short: Capcom were the masters of the mid- to late 90s.

Perhaps it's also worth noting the role of arcades. Again, though consoles and PC gaming had struck a major blow, the superior processing power of arcade cabinets still kept them alive. In addition, cultural factors likely impacted this as well; for one thing, arcades had a residual impression from the 80s as a haven for delinquents, and the aforementioned attitudes popular in youth culture at this time made them still hip in the public conscience. Furthermore, home gaming had been crawling further up the social ladder and was becoming more and more popular (the PlayStation had sold a whopping and unprecedented 102.49 million units in its lifetime), but was still not universal; plenty of people were still content to just blow a few quarters now and then instead of paying however much a console and games were. So, then, what exactly is the typical atmosphere in an arcade? Sad? Neutral? Boring and routine? Of course not; arcades were full of loud noises, flashing lights, and good times all around. The social aspect impacted things as well; you were essentially surrounded by like-minded people, and everyone had come there for the express purpose of having a good time. Even when playing something like House of the Dead, one couldn't help but feel elated. In that sense, the general atmosphere is quite conducive to the style of art that has been described throughout this essay; it may have been considered tough to sell something like [https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Cc5YnbsW0AADLqP.jpg] to Americans at one point, but in an arcade, that's how everyone was feeling.

That essentially sums up what I have to say about Capcom around this period: they had really cool, distinctive art, lots of wild, experimental, and really solid games, and actually seemed like they gave a damn; they were one of the top contributors to what I might just consider to be the greatest era of video gaming. However, I'd like to take this further; having established them as the beacon of everything that was right about gaming back then, perhaps it would be worthwhile to examine how that role has changed and stayed the same over the years.

The aforementioned period is tough to confine; the writing was on the wall when they released Darkstalkers, with its new sprite style and zany ideas with regards to gameplay and setting, and Cyberbots, another highly experimental fighting game, hit arcades as early as 1995--it's tough, however, to judge where exactly the movement was in full swing. It's safest to just declare that it began some time in the mid-90s and continued until about the middle to end of 2001--in fact, the ceding of the Dreamcast--which served as home to many ports of arcades which prominently displayed Bengus artwork--to the PlayStation 2 is both an accurate approximation of the point of embarcation as well as a symbolic display of the change in climate; as was just stated, the Dreamcast was no stranger to bright anime boxart and arcade games from around that period (a number of experimental Capcom titles such as Power Stone, Tech Romancer, Project Justice, and Plasma Sword were its notable exclusives, many of which remain exclusive to this day). The PlayStation 2, on the other hand ushered gaming into its new era. The console's DVD functionality along with the meager price even further unprecedented sales, and games broke huge into the mainstream; before, they were something for nerds and for a bit of the nerdier end of normal people, with maybe a handful of jocks getting them for sports games. Now, video games were essentially universal; in the 2000s, EVERY boy at school had a gaming system, which, of course, was usually a PS2. Gaming, being less niche (especially in the west), saw a new and tremendous market to which to cater; one made up of more "normal" westerners who were going to prefer things that pandered more directly to their tastes. In addition, consoles had now struck the final blow to arcades by being more powerful; it was around this time that arcade establishments and even cabinets in local bars started disappearing. That, of course, removed the implications of arcades, which meant that people would be generally less ecstatic when playing video games. 9/11 had just gone down, resulting in a time of paranoia and grief, with war again on the horizon. Youth culture had departed from the raditude left over from the 80s and the casual slacker nature toward the """gangsta""" (I still can't even render that without feeling awkward) movement of the early 2000s. Ultimately, fun and happy things stopped being cool, and now dim, realistic, "badass" stuff was the new norm. Capcom again seemed to exemplify this trend, with new IPs like Onimusha and Devil May Cry being devoid of the whimsy and upbeatness, with darker color palettes and less cartoony anime designs in favor of more realistic proportions, and older series like Resident Evil were stripped of much of their camp in favor of such characteristics; compare the following art and gameplay shots with what you've seen up until now: [https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/f/f7/Onimusha_-_Warlords_Coverart.png] [http://www.cf-network.com/cfan/local/cache-vignettes/L500xH375/08-23-5e7ab.jpg] [http://img.gamefaqs.net/box/0/7/2/12072_front.jpg] [http://i18.servimg.com/u/f18/18/41/61/41/dmc1110.jpg] [http://www.mobygames.com/images/covers/l/71525-resident-evil-4-playstation-2-front-cover.jpg] [https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/4/42/Resident_Evil_4_Ganado_village.png] So does this departure from color toward dim, gray palettes demonstrate a lack of creativity and decline in quality? Hardly; all three of those games are terrific, and the two new IPs were damn good for the most part (supposedly Onimusha had a stinker or two and DMC2 was just plain lame), and "realistic" RE resulted in a couple of other pretty good titles, namely RE0 and REmake. Unfortunately, fighting games were across the board in stasis, but Capcom did still manage to come up with lots of quality new franchises during this period, as well as new scenarios for their enduring mascot Mega Man.

The problem was, the issues that were sown in that generation were reaped in the next. The 6th generation of consoles (PS2, GameCube, and Xbox; the Dreamcast is kind of a 5.5th gen) was a pretty good time to be a gamer, with tons of great things on each for every taste, and an even better time to be a developer, as the industry had boomed and become significantly more profitable. However, this caused many to be distracted by the almighty dollar, and without arcades to demand quality control, that became less a matter of making things good enough to be hits, but simple, casual, and streamlined enough for mass appeal. Thus came the 7th gen, with more brown'n'bloom tuffguy first person shooters than anyone could possibly count, and yearly sports titles selling depressingly high numbers. Many a beloved franchise was whored out for casual appeal during this period, and nobody did it quite like Capcom. Resident Evil 4 had departed a bit from the previous, focusing on combat mechanics rather than atmosphere and horror, and wound up being so great that it sold very well on a few platforms; the problem was, Capcom saw this and put it in context of the manufactured first and third person shooters of the time, and made RE5, which had given up everything that had made the first few terrific in favor of cashing in on the rooty tooty point'n'shooty craze. Some defend RE5 as "okay," but nobody will speak in favor of RE6, which brought the awful casualization of the series to its logical conclusion. Devil May Cry, despite selling millions, apparently still wasn't satisfactory to Capcom, so they decided to give this anime-based series to a western studio (apparently company president Keiji Inafune had a fetish for the west (at this time the land of the angry bald muscular space marine gun guys) around this point, for some bizarre and insane reason), and not only was the beloved protagonist replaced with some prick designed to appeal to fratboys and Monster Ennergy Drink-chugging 13-year-olds, but moreover the combat--once heralded as the pinnacle that of the action game genre--was so casualized, stripped down, and neutered that one had to ask what the point even was at that point (to say nothing of the ankle-deep "social commentary" that was the focus of the reboot). These are merely two examples of such practices; going further would warrant its own essay altogether.

So instead, let's just go in a different direction, and bring up DLC as well as Capcom's practices therewith. At first, DLC seemed like a gift from heaven; more content for your favorite games easily available, what's not to like? Expansion packs are awesome, so wouldn't this be just that without the middleman? Well, it probably goes without saying that things went very wrong very quickly [http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/horse-armor]. Before long after its introduction, horse armor-tier packages abounded as cheap tactics for easy cash, and then became even more insidious, with nearly required transactions in addition to the $60 game. If it seems dastardly that companies would plan for DLC before the game was out or have it available on day one, imagine how folks felt when Capcom released Street Fighter x Tekken (which by all rights should have been amazing) with on-disc DLC--that is, content that was released in the base game had to be paid for to be used. Then you had solid games (or at least honest efforts) like Street Fighter IV and Marvel vs. Capcom 3 that, while not being quite as good as their predecessors, were still reasonable quality titles. However, each had better versions that released for full price mere months after release--several better versions, in SFIV's case. In the context of arcades, this is more understandable; a brand new entry in a fighting game series needs all-new mechanics and potentially revamped physics, a new artstyle and so all-new models/sprites for all returning characters as well as a bigger roster than ever, and THEN all of these things need to be balanced--that takes a LONG time! Thus, it's understandable that they may throw out new versions of existing games to keep people sated, as long as the arcade operator is down for getting a new machine, and so it's no loss to the players, who just keep putting quarters in as always. But putting out another $60 game to be the new standard barely three quarters of a year later? That's hard to defend.

There's one last fault of theirs that is truly disappointing. Remember that collage of logos from various fighting games made within the space of a few years? Yeah, Capcom were pretty down with taking risks back then. Now, when was the last time that Capcom introduced a new IP? I honestly couldn't tell you. At this point, graphics and presentation are expected to be on such a level that more time and moreover more money than ever are dumped into making a game look good than ever before. This, of course, comes at the expense of gameplay more often than not. Even more of an issue than that is that advertising is more cost-intensive and generally demanding than ever; in other words, due to big games one-upping each other, we've reached the point at which every game has to be a blockbuster in order to break even. Thus, companies can't take risks or do things just because they're cool like they once could. Now, this isn't something unique to Capcom, but again, nobody does it quite like them. The zillions of franchises that they once had are now almost all dead and buried--even Mega Man hasn't had a real game in years. At this point, Capcom has essentially become Street Fighter, Monster Hunter, and whatever Itsuno is doing at the moment (which I sincerely hope is currently Devil May Cry 5, but unfortunately that franchise is likely among those zillions), Inc.

It's amazing where writing will take one sometimes; this was initially just going to be gushing about a period that I really liked and why it was cool. Ultimately, it would seem that in the past few eras, Capcom has been the most exemplary company in the business, at times for better and at times for worse. Video games seem to have become too popular for their own good; Capcom went from having enough money to make all the rad games that they wanted to realizing just how much profit they that could make and draining all the rad from their games in order to mazimize that profit. Perhaps the death of arcades was the worst thing to happen to video games, and is to blame for the decay of quality control and rise of sterilization/casualization (well, okay, that's not true; it's DEFINITELY both of those things). It's tragic, but at the end of the day, we can still pop out or Dreamcasts, PS1s, and arcade emulators and enjoy what memories we may have of the glory days.

[WIP] Notable games that exude the mid-late 90s Capcom feel (I'd recommend the original hardware, but that's just me and my autism):

Cannon Spike (aka Gun Spike) [2000; ARC, Dreamcast]

Cyberbots: Fullmetal Madness [1995; ARC, Saturn, PS1]

Darkstalkers: The Night Warriors (aka Vampire: TNW) [1994; ARC, PS1, PSN]

Darkstalkers 3 (aka Vampire Savior: The Lord of Vampire) [1997; ARC, Saturn, PS1]

Marvel Super Heroes [1995; ARC, Saturn, PS1, XBLA, PSN]

Marvel Super Heroes vs. Street Fighter [1997, ARC, Saturn, PS1]

Marvel vs. Capcom: Clash of Super Heroes [1998; ARC, Dreamcast, PS1, XBLA, PSN]

Marvel vs. Capcom 2: New Age of Heroes [2000; ARC, Dreamcast, PS2, Xbox, XBLA, PSN]

Mega Man 8 [1996; Saturn, PS1]

Mega Man Legends [1997; PS1, N64]

Mega Man Legends 2 [2000; PS1, PC]

Mega Man X4 [1997; Saturn, PS1, PC, PSN]

Mega Man X5 [2000; PS1, PC, PSN]

Mega Man X6 (this one is BAD, but does have that art style...) [2001; PS1, PC]

Night Warriors: Darkstalkers' Revenge (aka Vampire Hunter: DR) [1995; ARC, Saturn]

Plasma Sword: Nightmare of Bilstein (sequel to Star Gladiator) [1998; ARC, Dreamcast]

Power Stone [1999; ARC, Dreamcast, PSP]

Power Stone 2 [2000; ARC, Dreamcast, PSP]

Project Justice (sequel to Rival Schools) [2001; ARC, Dreamcast]

Red Earth (aka War-Zard) [1996; ARC]

Rival Schools: United by Fate [1998; ARC, PS1]

Street Fighter Alpha [1995; ARC, Saturn, PS1, PSN, PC]

Street Fighter Alpha 2 [1996; ARC, SNES, Saturn, PS1, Wii U VC, PC]

Street Fighter Alpha 2 Gold [1996; ARC, Saturn, PS1]

Street Fighter Alpha 3 [1998; ARC, Dreamcast, Saturn, GBA, PS1, PS2, PSP]

Star Gladiator [1996; ARC, PS1]

Strider 2 [1999; ARC, PS1]

Tech Romancer [1998; ARC, Dreamcast]

X-Men: Children of the Atom [1994; ARC, Saturn, PS1, PC]

X-Men vs. Street Fighter [1996; ARC, Saturn, PS1]

"Amid the turmoil and tumult of battle, there may be seeming disorder and yet no real disorder at all... -Sun Tzu, The Art of War

He is Shinra, the lone survivor of a ravaged people. He must battle fiercely, move swiftly, and act rationally in a new war--one of frighteningly intense firepower and hypnotic beauty.

Find calm amid the chaos and reap the rewards in this beautiful combination of manga-style storytelling and ultra-challenging arcade heroics."

--taken from the back cover of Ikaruga--

When speaking about depth in video games, it's easy to point to story-focused fare like Metal Gear Solid, RPGs, or some of the more outwardly quirky games, but often the less apparently compelling can be some of the most rewarding.

The genre known to some as STG goes back to the very early days of video games and has continued in some form to this day, yet has been one of the most niche styles on the market since a few years after their initial impact (and about the exact minute that arcades died). It is usually characterized by either a top-down perspective with a focus on verticality, or alternately a from-the-side perspective with horizontal scrolling instead, either way typically featuring the player as a spaceship or mech, and the main focus of the game being a faceoff against armies of enemy ships flying about the screen and assaulting the player with sometimes random and sometimes ornate flurries of projectiles (typically referred to as "bullets" as a catch all including lasers, bombs, etc.) while the player attempts to blow up as many of them as possible while collecting item drops and fulfilling challenges to receive powerups and bonuses; essentially, the genre is spawned from such popular and influential titles as Space Invaders and Galaga. As such, the genre is inherently an arcade-style one, and has never quite left the mentality.

The title is not necessarily agreed upon--though it's not quite on the level of the character action/crazy action/spectacle fighter/cuhrayzee/stylish action/godonlyknowswhatelse genre, it does seem to go by many names, and not one necessarily agreed upon. Some classed it as "shooter," although that could be confusing, as one may guess that that is more suited to games like Call of Duty or Gears of War (or alternatively would just happen to think of those instead). The Japanese named this genre STG as an abbreviation for their term for "shooter," while Westerners christened it "shoot 'em up," often abbreviated as "shmup." As it is the most concise and professional-sounding, it will henceforth be referred to as STG.

STG are typically a tense experience for a beginner or non-fan who just happened to stumble across an old Raiden or 1945 cabinet; people used to console or PC games who are not accustomed to arcade games outside of the occasional barside Pac-Man are often overwhelmed by the difficulty and extreme pacing. This is to be expected, and is likely intentional; the player is likely not going to be spending as much time at whatever venue that hosts the arcade as he is at home, so the experience has to be short and sweet, not to mention that the proprietor of the venue wants the players to part with many quarters very quickly. What kind of soundtrack do you expect to accompany this? Probably something like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rYPcte3BlPw (seriously, play this while you read)

It's true, a lot of STG embrace the "totally rad" attitude of the late 80s/early 90s period when they were at their peak popularity. They did often seem to emphasize a total in-your-face attitude with the bullet storms, firepower, and abundance of explosions at all times. But would you believe that the genre often was about the exact opposite of what it seemed to be on the surface? Would you believe that as often as there was music like Evil Destroyer, there was music like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ozsgu4ifXs

It was this particular game that got me to notice this phenomenon, and more specifically, its music. Though Thunder Force IV and its adrenaline-pumping token Genesis music hadn't made me bat an eye, the almost DJ Shadow-like ambience and the soothing operatic vocals seemed to be a weird fit for the constant blasting and manic attempts to avoid being blasted...and yet, they also didn't. Somehow, despite seeming like quite a juxtaposition, it actually felt perfect. Nevertheless, I had always considered it to be merely playing two opposites against each other for a weird synergized effect until picking up Ikaruga.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mKCtUe0zLFQ&list=PL0FBDE87A34B6D290

Ikaruga is a much lauded but highly divisive STG that made a splash about a decade and a half ago, yet continues to fuel arguments to this day. I, for one, find it to be absolutely brilliant; mind you, I've been playing my Darius, Raiden, R-Type, and many others, so no, I would not consider myself the stereotypical Ikaruga fan who picked it up as his first and declared it the be-all-end-all of the genre. No, I approached it with a reasonable (even if not quite scholarly) amount of experience with the genre and still found it to be excellent, both in its very mechanics as a game and the way that it makes its statement.

The quotes above hail from this game, of course; you can imagine how I felt seeing that when going in with the suspicions that I had developed thanks to Darius Gaiden and a few others. Contrary to what they say, however, there is not much by way of storytelling, at least as far as I've seen; the gameplay, then, takes of the slack in delivering and summarizing everything so fascinating about this game and this genre.

The primary selling point was the polarity system; this is a kind of switching mechanic that has a few effects. While in "white mode," the player's ship is surrounded by a bluish-white force field that will absorb white bullets and convert them to points and special attack fuel, and the player will shoot white bullets that do double damage to black enemies, and will make white ones fire a last volley of bullets upon being destroyed. When the player adopts black polarity, then it has the same effects, only vice versa with respect to colors. A skilled player, then, will masterfully weave between the two colors in order to avoid damage and maximize score. What is the significance of this, then? I'd explain, but I would say that the second boss (requiring very skillful employment of both polarities to defeat) does a good enough job of that with the yin/yang symbol firmly and proudly emblazoned on its core.

The principle of STG is a kind of balance: there is bountiful chaos and carnage, but also tranquility, as the back cover quotes allege. While I at first thought that it was the gameplay that was juxtaposed against the music, that's not true; rather, the gameplay is summarized by the soundtrack. Take the Ikaruga OST to which you've (hopefully) been listening. If you were to attempt to describe it, how would you? Sure, it's epic, majestic, and determined-sounding. But what could you say of the mood? It's not happy, it's not sad, it's not angry...it just /is/. It has a very neutral, balanced, almost "floating" kind of feel; if one were to isolate the main melody of each piece, it would have an almost ambient quality to it (in fact, it already arguably does). "Tranquil," you could call it (be ready to see that word and its derivatives a lot in the coming paragraphs). This, then, is reflected in the experience of (properly) playing the game and the genre. Now, a beginner may get caught up in the chaos and tense up when faced with the bullet flurries, manic pacing, and incredible numbers of enemy ships; however, consider looking up footage of a pro player one-credit-clearing a bullet hell STG like Dodonpachi or Touhou. Or don't, I'll describe it: the player is invariably as calm as can be, with each motion precise, deliberate, and cold-blooded. The player is almost in a trance-like state; he is one with the game, and that is why he can so masterfully do what is seemingly impossible to a novice. I myself have found that my own best performances occur when I am taking long, deep breaths and go almost catatonic, whereas going into "oh shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit" mode almost always results in choking and dying rather quickly.

After a short back-and-forth about sports (more specifically, how neither of us was ever particularly good at or interested in them), a guitar teacher of mine once remarked that sports and guitar aren't actually that different--sports just tend to focus on the larger muscles, while playing music was about the smaller ones. If, then, guitar could be said to be like a micro-level sport, I would say that STG could be likened to a martial art.

Now, if any readers are practitioners of the martial arts and are now thinking of telling me how off my rocker I am to compare mere video games to their practice, hear me out. Though my knowledge of the martial arts essentially consists of what I've learned from such bountiful wells of knowledge as fighting games, cheesy Kung Fu movies, and Fist of the North Star /s (sarcasm both in the assertion that those are reputable sources and that they are my only compass), I think that I have absorbed just a slight bit more than the token pedestrian knowledge thereof, so let me explain myself. I'm not claiming that STG are on the same level or anywhere near it, only that they do share a number of traits in their purpose and (proper) execution. The philosophy of yin/yang and the culture of martial arts both were born in eastern Asia, and thus the former is reflected in the core of the latter. Asian culture in general seems to value tranquility and balance--compare Western landscape paintings to those of China or Japan, for instance: while those of the West emphasize color and motion so as to radiate a sense of adventuresomeness (a Western ideal), Eastern ones tend to be colorless and static, so as to emphasize...wait for it...tranquility (which is, of course, the Eastern ideal). This is also evident in much of their architecture, both in the structures themselves and their settings. Despite this, the East was also known for being very warlike: the Chinese were behind many advances in military technology and saw many empires full of conquest, and the Japanese were of course known for their warrior's Bushido code, which defined life for many, as well as their life-and-death lifestyle of the Samurai, glorified to this day. In other words, they historically seem to have valued the chaotic and the tranquil in equally high esteem, which has manifested itself in a form of combat that nevertheless appears to a somewhat informed outsider to be employed at its best by a calm and confident master. A hand-to-hand battle is inherently violent and thus inherently chaotic, yet it is performed in a drumroll tranquil manner and system.

And, ultimately, the same could be said of playing an STG. The subject matter in isolation could be said to be more akin to a war (to which the East appears to have had a similar attitude, per the Sun Tzu quote at the very beginning), yet the entire experience is like a martial art. Someone who doesn't know anything about fighting will likely find himself getting hot-blooded and tense in such a scenario, yet a master of a fighting discipline will instead keep his cool--who, then, is more likely to be the victor? Similar principles, then, are at play in STG, even if on a micro level. The player finds what appears to be a completely chaotic situation (and isn't necessarily not chaotic), yet can only succeed by understanding the role of tranquility in the chaos, then transcending and mastering them both. It's also worth noting that one of the most common compliments that people seem to give to an approved STG is that it has really well thought-out and implemented enemy and bullet patterns, like seeking out a worthy opponent and acknowledging his skill. Even if in a more juvenile medium, this is a kind of modern take on the same ideals that birthed the martial arts; it should come as no surprise that the playerbase for STG consists more or less exclusively of Asians and enthusiasts of Asian cultures.

So, what is the significance of all of this? What does it all mean? To understand that, one has to ask the following question: why do these exist in the first place? Going deeper, why did people ever feel the need to have a micro-level substitute for martial arts in the first place? The answer is that today there is not nearly as much room for implementation of the martial arts. Sure, one may learn some Kung Fu for self-defense if it is ever needed. Yet how does that compare to those for whom it was a lifestyle several centuries ago? The same goes for medieval fantasy games; it is a respite for the same drive that cannot be fulfilled today. To illustrate this: we've eliminated natural landscapes to put up condominiums and build cities, done away with wars fought by the people for their homelands and replaced them with battles by a small number of people for other interests. We've instituted systems by which the majority of people can live comfortably into their 70s, with plenty of food available at any time right down the street at the supermart. We've ensured that most everyone will be able to have shelter and medicine by working a safe job in an office every day. So why do we go to punch numbers in a cubicle all day in a grey concrete environment, again? To provide for ourselves and enjoy safe and comfortable living, of course. Why do we want that? To enjoy life. When do we enjoy life? In our leisure time. What do we do with our leisure time? Apparently, we pretend that we're in constant danger in beautiful natural environments, living exciting and dangerous lives. Does this mean that we get to have our cake and eat it too--that we can live without fear of starvation or the cold of winter and also have the excitement of (a heavily romanticized version of) primitive excitement? Or does the irony speak for itself?

Ultimately, STG has the same function in a different manner: it is a way for the modern world to see the beauty of chaos and the chaos of beauty, and to transcend and witness the bizarre polar synthesis of the two opposing elements.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kIxKjmrCrS4 (this gets really good around stage 2)

Lately I've been obsessed with a certain era of Nintendo first and second party games. I wondered for a moment whether I was simply pining for my own childhood and better times; however, considering that most of the games of this period that have brought me to feel this way as of late are ones that I had never played or even heard of back then, I'd say that it's more what I claim than what one may suspect. So, I figured I'd catalogue my thoughts on exactly what makes this era that I've danced around naming so great--I am speaking of early to mid-2000s Nintendo: the GameCube, Game Boy Advance, and early Nintendo DS.

That may come as a surprise to some of you. Indeed, many seem to think of this period as, though high quality, rather nondescript as far as Nintendo's generations. It's true, their other gens do have lots of overt personality: the NES was where it all started and many classic franchises were born, and the SNES hosted tons of magnificent RPGs and third party games along with numerous landmark first party classics like Super Mario World, A Link to the Past, and Super Metroid. Then came the N64, which also had games like Super Mario 64 and Ocarina of Time, and which seems to hold nostalgia for an incredible sum of modern gamers; it was many folks' first system, and it has its distinctly charming early 3D polygons. The Wii, then, was the start of Nintendo's exploration of different controller styles and casualization to appeal to non-gamers; for better or for worse, this certainly did have a distinct character. But what could be said of the GameCube? Sure, it was a game console, and, uh, yeah, I guess it was by Nintendo too. It had solid specs for its time, and a couple of cool games like Melee, Wind Waker, Metroid Prime, and, uh, I guess Mario Sunshine. But who really cares about it when the PS2 was right next door? The GameCube was just another console, and one that was totally dwarfed by its competition, right?

Well, let me explain. The NES was Nintendo's attempt to save video games altogether. It was ultimately successful, but it was a gamble, and it took a lot of effort; banking on the success of a few of their arcade games, they wound up throwing everything at the wall and hoping that some of it would stick. Some of it, like Mario, Zelda, Metroid, and Fire Emblem certainly did; others, like Clu Clu Land, Ice Climber, Kid Icarus, and Devil World didn't quite manage. However, what did stick did the trick, and the console succeeded.

Going into the next gen, they seemed to understand exactly what worked, and pursued that--thus followed SMW, ALttP, and Super Metroid. Though spinoffs like Yoshi's Island came about, Mother saw a Western release, and one or two new franchises like Panel de Pon emerged (in Japan), it doesn't seem that Nintendo was quite as eager to experiment. And did they need to? Perhaps not; their third party support from the previous generation of consoles in which they essentially had the market cornered continued. Now, they did finally have some serious competition in the form of the Sega Genesis, but they were still doing quite well for themselves; they did have to compete in advertising in order to keep sales and third parties, but in development, they just had to continue stamping out classics at a comfortable pace.

Enter Sony and the Playstation. Sega was no longer on the radar due to the Saturn flopping hard outside of Japan, but Sony was quite a force to be reckoned with. In addition to a recognizable name, they were willing to give third parties what they wanted, while Nintendo stubbornly stuck to cartridges (better quality graphics and usually no need for memory cards, but harder and more expensive to develop). Not only were discs cheaper and easier for other companies, but they had much more memory, which allowed for system sellers like the 50+ hour Final Fantasy VII as well as Metal Gear Solid with its fully-voiced cutscenes and orchestrated soundtrack. Nintendo was up against a lot, and was outsold; however, they still sold a comfortable amount of units with their brand power, and had a stranglehold on the handheld market. Who needs those third parties anyway when you can keep churning out great entries in immensely popular franchises at the same pace? It doesn't pay much worse, that's for sure.

However, Sony's eventual success in the next generation forced Nintendo into a change of procedure. Riding on the original Playstation's success, the Playstation 2 introduced DVD technology, which brought it to become the biggest selling console of all time. Third parties, most of whom had already all but jumped ship during the previous generation, were now lining right up to get their games on this wildly popular system. The GameCube, on the other hand, did finally begin to use discs, but screwed itself by using unconventional mini discs instead of DVDs, which were again not only awkward to develop, but made Nintendo essentially drop out on one huge selling point that the PS2 had. Nintendo still had a decent deal of brand power (as well as the newfound ace up their sleeve that was Pokemon), but if they wanted to stay relevant in the console market, then they had to find a new way to go up against this titan.

And so they did. If they wanted to compete with the tremendous influx of PS2 exclusives from Konami, Capcom, Square, Rockstar, and many other studios, Nintendo had to have tons of games themselves, and thus they went into maximum overdrive with what they had. They started developing new first party IPs (Pikmin, Chibi-Robo), publishing tons of new second party franchises (Golden Sun, Eternal Darkness), localizing franchises that never made it out of Japan (Fire Emblem, Custom Robo), and pushing out spinoffs both internal (WarioWare, Luigi's Mansion) and from external second parties (Mario & Luigi, Metroid Prime (yeah, I know Retro is owned by Nintendo, but it's basically an external studio in everything but name)). This phenomenon started up during the early days of the GC and GBA, but really picked up steam a little ways in when the situation really seemed to dawn on them, and it continued into the early days of the DS with games like Elite Beat Agents, Hotel Dusk: Room 215, and Magical Starsign. Their competition had been waging a war on them of attempting to brand them as a kiddie platform since the SNES days; so, while Nintendo kept creating kid-friendly games in order to maintain their own family-friendly image (which is a profitable one), they fought back with more mature second party (and "second party") titles such as Eternal Darkness, Geist, and the Metroid Prime series.

In addition, Nintendo seemed very willing to experiment and take risks even with familiar franchises. The new 3D Mario was based almost entirely on a new bizarre piece of equipment (a water tank with various nozzles) and its applications...and it was great! Zelda was now a cartoony, cel-shaded game eschewing the traditional landscapes and tried-and-true Hyrule layout for a vast ocean, with the player sailing between islands...and it was great! Metroid was now not only 3D, but a first-person shooter...and it was great! Nintendo was not only being adventurous, but was giving 110% and actually doing new things that were GOOD. That also applies to their manic frenzy of new IPs and spinoffs; they weren't just throwing out tons of crap to have a roster that could equal the competition in size, they were producing and publishing insanely high-quality games at an unprecedented rate. The reason why people seem to see this era as rather nondescript is that, unfortunately, though some managed to catch on, many if not most of these IPs fell by the wayside and went unnoticed. Sure, you know Melee, Sunshine, Prime, and Wind Waker, as well as a couple of GBA series like Mario & Luigi, and you played the GBA and DS Pokemon games. A couple of you even remember Golden Sun or bought the old Fire Emblems. But can I see a show of hands as to who remembers Drill Dozer? How many of you bought that one, or Chibi-Robo, or Magical Starsign, or Custom Robo, or Rhythm Heaven, or Advance Wars, or Hotel Dusk? I certainly didn't.

In other words, though Nintendo did manage to make and publish an unbelievable amount of unbelievably high quality games, their Renaissance period did not succeed in terms of actually managing to equal their competition. Thus, they tried something new and out of the box, which was the Wii. Like each generation before it, their attitude here has its own distinct characteristics, which were shared by the games. This, of course, was an extremely casualized and streamlined one, which brought in tons upon tons of non-gamers (at least for a few weeks), but alienated the core fanbase. There was still a good amount of quality games being made, but even many of those bore the mark of Nintendo's Apple-ization in certain ways. The spirit hadn't wholly left just yet, though, and there was a bit of it to be found extending its dying reach into this period. The DS, having been released prior to the Wii, still carried on the old spirit to some degree or another, even if it sold as wildly as the Wii due to its gimmick, which also brought tons of useless junk preying on the new base of casual "gamers" for a quick buck. The Wii had a couple of cool GameCube-like games as well; though it's apparently cool to hate it now, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess was a bona fide GameCube-style game (which may be owed slightly to the fact that it was meant to be released for GC a year earlier, but happened to be postponed to be a Wii system seller). Then, though it's another dirty word, I would say that the last true gasp of Nintendo's Renaissance period was Super Smash Bros. Brawl.

Now, it's true: Brawl did have many of the marks of Wii-era populism and casualization, most evident in the infamous changes to gameplay; for those who don't know, many advanced mechanics were taken out, the physics were made to be slower and floatier, which prevented much by way of high-level play, ultimately lowering the skill ceiling and raising the floor, which resulte in a more accessible but less interesting and satisfying experience (Though as an aside, many people seem to blame director Sakurai for simply casualizing the game for a bigger audience despite Melee being plenty popular among casuals, but the truth apparently is that Nintendo president Iwata wanted to make the game more playable for first timers who didn't have GameCubes and thus didn't have GC controllers; as a competitive Smash enthusiast, it pains me to say this, but he had a point; after all, can you imagine trying to play Melee with a Wiimote? Consider that Brawl sold five million (5,000,000) more units than Melee, and the latter was the top-selling GameCube game. There really was no other way. But I digress). Even the main theme (cool as it was) and the menus seem to exude the kind of sterilization and inoffensiveness of late 2000s Nintendo, as opposed to the more adventuresome nature and the attitude of Melee's aesthetic, which reflects Nintendo's around that time.

HOWEVER, Brawl nevertheless had a lot going for it from the perspective of a GC-era Nintendo enthusiast. For one thing, the addition of the Assist Trophy item allowed even characters that couldn't make the cut as playable characters to see the fight in at least some capacity; believe me, much as I maintain that it's a travesty that Isaac from Golden Sun didn't make it as a fighter, it was heartwarming to see him manage to get in alongside the elect at least for a minute, as well as other obscure curiosities from around that period such as Jill from Drill Dozer and the Helirin from Kuru Kuru Kururin. Now, Melee had introduced trophies, which, for the uninitiated, featured a 3D model of a character or object from a past Nintendo game, as well as information about the subject; these were collected in various ways throughout gameplay. In line with GC-era Nintendo's giving 110% at all times, Melee featured entirely new models spanning Nintendo's whole history, as opposed to Brawl's mostly reused assets, reflecting Nintendo's Wii-era philosophy of "only try as hard as needed in order to get big bucks from suckers" (okay, that's kind of exaggerated, but not wholly inaccurate). However, this apparent laziness had an unforeseen advantage: the trophies mostly reusing assets meant that nearly all of them came from the GC period, which functions as an accidental love letter to people like me. Furthermore, though many people didn't seem to have much use for the stickers, seeing as they've never been mentioned as often as trophies and didn't return in Smash 4 (once again, for the uninitiated: stickers were essentially pieces of concept art added to an in-game gallery and that could be used for stat boosts in the Subspace Emissary story mode), I personally have recently found myself loving them to death. You see, if playable characters (small base) are the cream of the crop, with Assist Trophies (slightly larger base) then catching some "almost there"-level characters and regular trophies (large base) for the next most notable, then stickers allowed for tons upon tons of obscure and deemed "too unimportant" Nintendo curiosities to make the cut; playable fighters needed detailed models and tons of animations/VA, assist trophies needed a decent-looking model and some very basic animation and maybe a little bit of VA, trophies needed decent models (that had to be posed) and a write-up, while stickers could just be copied and pasted. In other words, even if it was small, this allowed for an unprecedented amount of Nintendo fanservice (and considering that early/mid-2000s Nintendo was the "zillions of awesome but overlooked gems" period, you can guess from whence many of these stickers originated), and has even helped me to find out about plenty of underappreciated GC-era goodness. Even if the Subspace Emissary doesn't have the same replayability and lasting appeal as Melee's Adventure mode, it was fun for what it was--and replaying it now, it always brings a smile to my face when, at the end of a level, I see all of the trophies and stickers that I managed to collect. Then, of course, you have all of the music and stages taken from Renaissance-period games with which Brawl was jam-packed, along with the new character choices. Ultimately, the game was a Wii-era Nintendo game. However, there was enough GC-era Nintendo in there to call it the last gasp of their Renaissance period; in the end, Brawl was your infected best friend looking back at you to make eye contact and smile for the last time as the zombie disease fully envelops him. And it's the most radiant damn smile you've ever seen.

Well, I've said my piece; I fucking love this period, the games, the attitude and aesthetic that it exudes, and everything about it. Thanks for reading all of this rambling; hopefully you've gotten something out of it. As for me, I'm going to go dust off my old Nintendo Power magazines and enjoy some nostalgia (okay, MAYBE it's a little bit about longing for my childhood).

[WIP] Recommended first and second party Renaissance-era Nintendo games (a handful of honorary GC games included):

Advance Wars [Game Boy Advance, 2001]

Advance Wars 2: Black Hole Rising [Game Boy Advance, 2003]

Advance Wars: Dual Strike [Nintendo DS, 2005]

Animal Crossing [GameCube, 2001]

Animal Crossing: Wild World [Nintendo DS, 2005]

Battalion Wars [GameCube, 2005]

Chibi-Robo! [GameCube, 2005]

Cubivore: Survival of the Fittest [GameCube, 2002]

Custom Robo [GameCube, 2004]

Custom Robo Arena [Nintendo DS, 2006]

Donkey Kong Jungle Beat [GameCube, 2004]

Drill Dozer [Game Boy Advance, 2005]

Elite Beat Agents [Nintendo DS, 2006]

Eternal Darkness: Sanity's Requiem [GameCube, 2002]

F-Zero GX [GameCube, 2003]

Fire Emblem [Game Boy Advance, 2003]

Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi (Sword of Seals) [Game Boy Advance, 2002]

Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance [GameCube, 2005]

Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn [Wii, 2007]

Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones [Game Boy Advance, 2004]

Golden Sun [Game Boy Advance, 2001]

Golden Sun: The Lost Age [Game Boy Advance, 2002]

Hotel Dusk: Room 215 [Nintendo DS, 2007]

Kirby Air Ride [GameCube, 2003]

Kirby: Nightmare in Dream Land [Game Boy Advance, 2002]

Kirby and the Amazing Mirror [Game Boy Advance, 2004]

Kururin Paradise [Game Boy Advance, 2002]

Kururin Squash! [GameCube, 2004]

Kuru Kuru Kururin [Game Boy Advance, 2001]

The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords Adventures [GameCube, 2004]

The Legend of Zelda: The Minish Cap [Game Boy Advance, 2004]

The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess [GameCube/Wii, 2006]

The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker [GameCube, 2002]

Luigi's Mansion [GameCube, 2001]

Magical Starsign [Nintendo DS, 2006]

Magical Vacation [Game Boy Advance, 2001] (fan translation recently released)

Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga [Game Boy Advance, 2003]

Mario & Luigi: Partners in Time [Nintendo DS, 2005]

Mario Kart: Double Dash!! [GameCube, 2003]

Mario Kart DS [Nintendo DS, 2005]

Metroid Fusion [Game Boy Advance, 2002]

Metroid Prime [GameCube, 2002]

Metroid Prime 2: Echoes [GameCube, 2004]

Metroid Prime Hunters [Nintendo DS, 2006]

Metroid: Zero Mission [Game Boy Advance, 2004]

Mother 3 [Game Boy Advance, 2006]

Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door [GameCube, 2004]

Pikmin [GameCube, 2001]

Pikmin 2 [GameCube, 2004]

Pokemon Diamond and Pearl [Nintendo DS, 2006]

Pokemon FireRed and LeafGreen [Game Boy Advance, 2004]

Pokemon Ruby and Sapphire [Game Boy Advance, 2002]

Rhythm Tengoku [Game Boy Advance, 2003]

Star Fox Adventures [GameCube, 2002]

Star Fox Assault [GameCube, 2005]

Super Mario Sunshine [GameCube, 2002]

Super Smash Bros. Brawl [Wii, 2008]

Super Smash Bros. Melee [GameCube, 2001]

WarioWare, Inc.: Mega Microgame$! [Game Boy Advance, 2003]

Wario Land 4 [Game Boy Advance, 2001]

Wario World [GameCube, 2003]

Wave Race: Blue Storm [GameCube, 2001]

This was my response to a post on a message board containing an Ebert quote about whether or not video games could be classified as art. The board has a character limit on posts, so it's not quite essay-length, but I felt it worth archiving regardless. The quote and my response are as follows:

"To my knowledge, no one in or out of the field has ever been able to cite a game worthy of comparison with the great dramatists, poets, filmmakers, novelists and composers. That a game can aspire to artistic importance as a visual experience, I accept. But for most gamers, video games represent a loss of those precious hours we have available to make ourselves more cultured, civilized and empathetic." --Roger Ebert

It's arguably true that there is no "game worthy of comparison with the great dramatists, poets, filmmakers, novelists and composers." That doesn't necessarily invalidate the whole medium; it took a while for film to come into its own, and it took painting a LONG time to become anything more than simplistic depictions of the hunt, which, historical relevance aside, are really no deeper than an Atari 2600 game--because that was as deep as they /could/ be back then.

So if we hope to eventually see a "game worthy of comparison with the great dramatists, poets, filmmakers, novelists and composers," what do we do? Simple: just let it happen. The best art is rarely born of people deliberately setting out to make something "deep and artistic"; such an approach results in games like Gone Home, which often feel quite ham-fisted and forced (not to mention that their statement is essentially "video games can be art, but only the non-game parts, and in order to be art, they have to have the video game parts subdued and de-emphasized"). Rather, it's simply people creating what they feel, with no ulterior motive or pretense; even the best of avant-garde tends to be like a stream of consciousness, or failing that it is no forced attempt to deliver a message in a weird or bizarre way, it's just that a weird and bizarre delivery came naturally, because the artist is a weird and bizarre person. If video games are anything like those other media that Ebert named (which they are), then they WILL follow the same course, and they WILL produce a game worthy of comparison to the greats thereof.

And, being on a board dedicated to retro vidya and all, that's not to say that there's no profundity to the simpler games of yesteryear. I would say that DOOM is a powerful statement on the human condition?the same "ultra-violence" approach has been used in many a lauded film. Eastern Mind is just Eastern Mind. Then if you think creatively, plenty of very early and seemingly "too simplistic" stuff has value as well. Sure, it's less story-focused and fleshed-out than what followed it, but that doesn't make the original 8-bit Metal Gear any less poignant. Even if the game ultimately boils down to "sneak in to the base and beat the bad guy (which was all that Big Boss was meant to be at that point)," humor me and ask yourself some questions: What does Outer Heaven represent to Snake? Consider him as a psychonaut; think of him as the ego, perhaps with his infiltration mission as an exploration of his own consciousness. What does it all mean? What is the significance of his various discoveries, from this perspective? Any other 8-bit '80s game could be viewed the same way if you dare to really analyze. If De Stijl and Brutalism can be considered landmark movements in art, then the brute simplicity of pre-1990 vidyer certainly can be as well.