KNUCKLE BASH (ARCADE)

What is today's game about? Well, it's about brawn. It's about strength. It's about the flexing of oiled muscles. Most importantly, though, it's about the burning spirit of justice that exists in the hearts of those who swear to uphold the honour of professional wrestling. It's Toaplan's 1993 arcade slam-em-up Knuckle Bash, and I hope you're a fan of glistening pectoral muscles.

If you ever do any internet reading on Knuckle Bash, you're going to see phrases like "homoerotic" and "camp" and "super gay" being thrown around, but why? Just because the entire game consists of shirtless men grabbing each other with nary a single female character in sight? Yes, that's exactly why. Never mind that now, though, because there's wrestling iniquity afoot and it's time to meet the three brave heroes tasked with restoring order to the world of sports entertainment and re-sanctifying the squared circle.

I fucking love videogames. On the left we have an extremely muscular and very cheerful luchador - his name is La Plancha, which a quick search on Google Spain tells me means "The Iron." No, not like the metal, like the thing that you use to get creases out of your clothes. On the right is the still extremely muscular but far less cheerful Jack Brow (or possibly Jack Blow), a brooding sort with piercing blue eyes and a quiff so solid you could use it as an anvil for emergency blacksmithery. In the middle is an Elvis impersonator called Michael Sobut. The chances of me picking either of the other two over Wrestling Elvis are precisely zero percent.
Those are their Japanese names, by the way. Knuckle Bash was actually brought to the West by Atari, who renamed the characters: La Plancha was switched to Dice, Michael Sobut became Clash and Jack Brow's name was changed to Devo, presumably because he can whip it good.

Knuckle Bash is split into two halves, and you're given the opportunity to choose which one you want to take on first. They both sound very tempting, but I think I'll start with the top one. I should point out that the Bulls mentioned in these descriptions are not literal bulls, although I would not blame you for thinking that they could be.

Michael rides into action (past the "Zivenchy" store) on a motorcycle, because of course he does. If he was in a car people might not be able to see his outfit, and that's just not acceptable. As he rides along, the game's plot scrolls along the bottom of the screen at a speed that makes reading it difficult and slightly nauseating, so here it is in full so you can take it in at a more leisurely pace.
"Becoming a professional wrestler has always been my dream. I'll fight to the end to save the sport from the corrupt Mad Bulls. Wrestling heros unite! In a Chicago hotel, a secret meeting has been arranged. The heros decide to obtain the services of a powerful master of NINPOW. His name is 'HAYATE' ninja warrior. He resides in Hong Kong and is known to be a skillful and cunning fighter. The Mad Bulls want him too and will stop at nothing. The heros can't let this happen. Even if it means..."

So, the motivation of the wrestling heroes is that they're trying to save the sport from the Mad Bulls, a group of evil wrestlers whose corruption takes a very vague form. How are the Mad Bulls going to destroy wrestling, exactly? Murder? Extortion? Grossly inflated pay-per-view fees? Whatever their diabolical plan, our heroes will put a stop to it by recruiting the ninja wrestler Hayate, so get ready for some hard-hitting, bone-crunching contract negotiations and extended haggling over image rights and appearance fees. Nah, not really, I'm going to punch him until he joins our side.
The game begins as Michael arrives at the Chicago hotel mentioned in the intro. The hotel is called "Hotel Rats," and I'm no expert on marketing but I reckon naming your hotel after vermin is a poor branding decision. There's a reason the nearby Restaurant du E. Coli was forced to close.

And we're off, punching and grappling in the traditional "one attack button and one jump button" style familiar from so many oter side-scrolling beat-em-ups. To call Knuckle Bash "side-scrolling" feels a little inaccurate, though, because there's barely any side to scroll to. Each area is only a couple of screens wide, so the game feels more like an arena fighter than a belt-scroller, with a small number of enemies to be fought in an enclosed space before moving on to the next "room." The combat is mostly the same as always - tap punch for a combo, walk into enemies to grab them - but forget about that because I'm playing as an Elvis look-a-like in a skintight one-piece jumpsuit and cowboy boots, smacking seven bells out of cartwheeling mafiosi clad in retina-searing suits and hotel doormen built like oaken logs crudely fashioned into the shape of a man, and it is fantastic. Not gameplay wise, not really - it's fast and fun but hardly the next great leap in the evolution of the genre - but, well, you read that description, didn't you? There's nothing here not to like.

Okay, I think I've finished my TripAdvisor review for Hotel Rats. "A good location, interesting décor (I especially liked the fountain of the urinating cherub) but the bellhops became aggressive when I refused to leave a tip and tried to murder me with their luggage carts. Breakfast was adequate. Free WiFi. Overall, two of out five."

This being (sort of) a side-scrolling brawler, you can of course press both buttons together to perform a special attack that hurts all the enemies around you at the cost of some of your own health. In Michael's case, he creates a guitar from lightning and spins it around while shouting "Rock 'n' Roll!" because someone at Toaplan has a magical machine that can see into my dreams. Also, I didn't realise until after I'd finished the game that it's a literal electric guitar, oh ho ho.

Oh, I'm fighting this guy now? That's cool, he looks like a fun dude who definitely hasn't just escaped from a circus side-show.

Here he comes now, repeatedly launching his 'roided-out chest at me while the diners look on with feigned interest and a waiter in a frilly shirt does pirouettes. I think that waiter might encourage me to increase my hotel review score to three out of five, if only in admiration for his sheer energy. Nice to see that the boss is trying to expand the usual range of post-apocalyptic bandit fashions by adding the trailing wisps of a mullet to the usual mohawk, I'm sure that will be next season's hot new look for savage men who exist in a bleak, lawless future.
The boss's flying attacks are powerful but also easily dodged by moving up and down, allowing you to wait for him to land, stand behind him and then punch him in the back of the head when he gets up. This is a fairly reliable strategy for many of Knuckle Bash's bouts, and before long you'll be able to move on to the next vignette of violence. But how will Michael get to the next stage?

By staring at a window while a member of the hotel staff plants a bundle of dynamite behind him, either on the orders of the Mad Bull or in a desperate attempt to save his hotel from further destruction. The dynamite explodes, propelling Michael through the window and into the next fight. The dynamite does not hurt Michael because, much like how fire can only be fought with fire, only wrestling can harm a wrestler.

On the rooftop terrace, Michael must do battle with a kickboxer and a fat hillbilly. The hillbilly has the upper hand, because Michael can't see him past the comically oversized collar of his wrestling onesie, but a few electric guitar attacks and making sure to focus on removing one threat at a time will see him through.

Between certain stages there's a button-mashing minigame which, as far as I can see, provides the player with no reward beyond the vision of some firm, toned buttocks that have been vacuum sealed into a pairs of brightly-coloured silk trousers. Simply tap attack to build power until the timer runs out, when...

...both men punch each other in the face at the same time, possibly in an effort to thoroughly streamline the sport of boxing, or to create a new and punishing version of Rock, Paper, Scissors where you may only throw rock. If you've pressed the button enough times you'll knock your opponent to the floor. That is all.

Hang on, am I going to be fighting this guy or watching him do a strip show for a hen party?

Fighting, then. Also some posing, but mostly fighting, especially when the boss starting busting out his handstand kicks that I was having trouble avoiding until I realised that you can do a sliding kick by pressing both buttons while you hold the stick to the left or right. This move provided a good "in" for me as I used it to close the distance between us in a relatively safe manner. It was such an effective strategy that the boss retreated for a while to regroup, summoning in a swarm of lesser minions for me to deal with while he recuperated.

These minions, to be precise, these louche catalogue models that it's impossible not to imagine having the voices of people who attended exclusive American boarding schools. It's no surprise that you're fighting them at the marina, they were probably born on a yacht. They may even have yacht DNA, who knows what the ultra-wealthy inhabitants of The Hamptons get up to in the summer months.

Now that I've made it onto a boat, I decided that it was time to give La Plancha a try. I'm glad I did, because his special move involves grabbing an enemy, setting them on fire and then using their flaming corpse to batter any other enemies who didn't have the good common sense to run away when a huge masked man set one of their comrades alight. With no accelerant or ignition source readily identifiable, we are left to assume that La Plancha can make people combust using nothing but the white-hot flame of his unquenchable wrestling pride. La Plancha doesn't mess about, which makes it all the more puzzling that he's named after a household appliance.

Lurking in the hold of the boat and bursting through the hull to attack our hero was this gorilla. This gorilla-type thing, I should say, because gorillas do not have green skin and orange fur, as a rule. Or wear shorts, for that matter. Hang on: green skin, orange fur, shorts - this is Blanka from Street Fighter II, isn't it? Blanka, but with a more simian form almost totally lacking in humanity. I say almost because his genitals are covered by clothing, as God intended for the race of Man. Maybe this is what Blanka would have become had he not left the rainforest, fought men and women who could shoot magic soul energy out of their hands and eventually met the humanizing influence of Dan Hibiki. Oh well, rabid Blanka will have to be put down, and because La Plancha can burn him alive with a touch I guess that makes him the man for the job.
Also of note: earlier I mused that Knuckle Bash might not fit into the category of side-scrolling brawler, but I've just seen all those oil drums so we can now state with one hundred percent certainty that this is, in fact, a side-scrolling beat-em-up. That's that kind of scientifical gameology research you get here at VGJunk.

La Plancha takes the battle to Chinatown, a dangerous place populated by men who look like sleazy Seventies movie producers. Look at those two guys in the red jackets and tell me you can't imagine them with a gold chain around their neck, promising you that you'll be a star as you slide into the jacuzzi next to them. There are quite a lot of them, the one who manages to kill La Plancha having been promised the rights to adapt the story of Knuckle Bash into a major motion picture.
I really like the graphics in this section, you know. There are some nice details, like the chefs busily preparing food that has almost certainly had either blood or sweat splashed on it, and an overall pleasing quality to the whole scene. I can't really go into more depth than that, I just like it is all.

Two of Ronald McDonald's bastard sons stab a man to death in a Chicago back alley just because he wanted to clean up professional wrestling, while their supervisor - a large bear of a man in speedoes and a jacket with-rolled-up sleeves - mentally conducts their latest performance review. "Good work on the stabbing," he muses, "but their plain outfits do not reflect the standards of high camp that the Mad Bull organization strives towards. For this, they shall be reprimanded and sent to rummage through Elton John's cast-offs."

At last, I have found the ninja master Hayate, and Jack Brow is here to take him down. Don't worry, La Plancha survived his brutal back-alley shanking, I just thought it was time to show you this guy.
Jack is the least interesting of the characters visually, which is a shame because the way they look is all the characters have to separate them. Their special moves are slightly different, but they all have the same basic attacks and as far as I can tell they all share the same statistics - no-one is any faster or more powerful than anyone else. It's a shame, and more individuality would have definitely improved the game, but it does at least mean you can pick the the character you most like the look of without worrying that you're missing out on a "better" fighter.
As for Hayate, he's master the deadly NINPOW arts of sliding around on the floor like a dog with worms and turning himself into a cartoon tornado, making him a disciple of the rarely-seen Tasmanian Devil no Jutsu. It was a tricky move to counter at first, but then I realised that I could block by holding down punch. This revelation not only made beating Hayate much easier but it also entirely changed the flavour of Knuckle Bash's combat: whereas before I was trying to get in quickly to stop enemies from executing their moves and to finish them off as fast as possible, now I can take things at a slower pace and fight in a more counter-attacking style.

"I'll join you, but I won't fight them. I'll fight to them, right up to their front door if I have to, but I must insist that you respect my wishes not to fight anyone who might figure out how to stop me turning into a tornado."

Hayate joins the Knuckle Bash squad, and before you take on the second part of the game - the grandly titled "Fierce Battle of the Four Mad Bulls!!" - you are even given the chance to change your character. I'll be sticking with Jack Brow for a while, just to see what else he can do, but Hayate will get his turn later.

Another slice of what you might call plot if you were feeling very generous or had just sustained a serious head injury, once more brought to you in a text scroll quick enough to give your eyes whiplash. I think the speed at which these information dumps hurtle by speaks to the overall ethos of the Knuckle Bash experience - it's a game that wants you to get straight into the act of big men slamming into each other, with no time to spare for varied characters or complex moves or words. It's sort of refreshing, to be honest, and Knuckle Bash's weird and wonderful setting means I'm more than happy to overlook it's somewhat mediocre gameplay.
Anyway, here's the intro text of part two in full: "My journey takes me to BATTLE KINGDOM, headquarters of the Bull Group. It's rumored that one of them wants out of the organization. It seems he doesn't agree with their methods... I too was once lured by the temptations of the Bull Group. They are nothing but a gang of criminals, evil as sin."

Jack can't even make it through the car park without being attacked. It's good to see that wrestling is bringing in the big crowds, it's just a shame that the Mad Bulls' profits didn't extend to finding these guys shirts that fit properly. In a universe where (I assume) wrestling is the pinnacle of cultural and artistic expression you'd think that kind of oversight could be avoided.

Oh look, it's the first boss in a different set of colours. The tactics for beating him remain the same - block or dodge his jumping attacks, pummel him with some cowardly but very effective attacks from behind - but as this fight takes place in an actual wrestling ring I found myself subconsciously trying to perform more grabs and more wrestling moves on him. Hey, I'm just trying to give the crowd what they want, and until Jack Brow turned up I don't think they were really getting into it.

I mean, half the people in the crowd aren't even looking at the match! The guy on the far left has spotted a bird that has flown into the stadium and is fluttering around in the rafters, while the two men on the right are mortal enemies who, through a hilarious coincidence, bought tickets for adjacent seats and are so consumed by mutual loathing that they have to look in opposite directions at all times lest they accidentally make eye contact.

It's time to see what Hayate can do. What can he do? He can spin around. His tornado powers are still available now that he's a playable character, and very useful they are too although I definitely got more use out of them as a defensive technique than for doing damage. Other than that, Hayate is the same as all the other characters. I sort of want to say that Hayate's faster than the other characters, but I don't think that's true and I have just been mentally conditioned, through decades spent consuming videogames and action movies, to believe that ninjas are faster than everyone else.
I'd certainly expect Hayate to be faster than this American footballer that he's fighting. I'm not doubting the athletic prowess of American footballers, but they're not ninjas, are they? Actually, American Ninja Football would be great, leaping around the gridiron, throwing the ball like a shuriken, teleporting into the end zone, occasionally performing the silent assassination of the umpires. Anyway, the footballer: he's big, he's strong and he can set the ground on fire by punching it so he's handy to have around on a camping trip. His eyes are also tiny red dots of light glowing deep the shadows of his helmet, so I think he might be Johnny Maximum from World Heroes. Jumping over his grapples seemed to work pretty well, and once I'd figured that out it was a simple enough task to beat him. Then a trapdoor opened up - in the middle of a football pitch, I should remind you - and Hayate was dropped into the next arena.

Now, as we've seen, Knuckle Bash is a weird game, or rather it's a very average game with a weird and completely over-the-top setting. In the case of this stage, however, I think it's worth describing the environment just to fully communicate how bizarre it is. You can ignore the bad guy, because he's just a stereotypical "Arabian" fighter with a scimitar and ploofy trousers, but this background... You're in a wrestling ring, but the ropes are made of barbed wire (and yes, they do hurt you if you run into them) and the canvas appears to be made of marble. Behind the ring, wretched prisoners are trapped in a cage of fire, the punishment for their undefined crimes being to burn to death while watching wrestling. Atop the cell is a raised area where a reclining woman uses a tiger as a pillow and a man dressed as one of the Untouchables keeps checking his watch, as though he has somewhere more interesting to be than this vision of insanity. Further to the right is a figure that you never get to see in full: all you're privy to is that they're wearing leather trousers, they're carrying a whip and they may have a snake wrapped around their body. I am somewhat relieved that the camera never moves up high enough to see the rest of them. It's all rather wonderful, really.

You know what else is wonderful? The power of friendship, and I'm feeling pretty great now that the football player I clobbered earlier has decided to join my cause. His name is Captain, and what the hell was he doing while I was fighting the Arabian? Watching to see who would emerge victorious before he pledged his loyalty to either side, no doubt. Typical mercenary sportsman.

It's the final stage, according to the pre-fight splash screen, so I'd better give Captain a chance before I run out of things to beat up. Nothing much new in the moves department for the football star, although I was getting a lot of use out of his slide attack against the final boss: a flying Japanese demon that can breathe spiritual fire and split into multiple copies of itself to breath three lots of spiritual fire at once. That's a lot of fire to avoid, and avoid it you must because it does a ton of damage. Appropriately enough, I managed to fight fire with fire by exploiting the brief period of invincibility you get when activate Captain's ground-flame special move to dodge the streams of fire. Other than that, it was a battle of patience rather than all-out attack or significant yardage gains, but eventually I kicked the boss in the back enough times to claim victory and clear Knuckle Bash's final stage.

Except, in a shocking twist, the game is not over and the final boss was actually legendary Japanese wrestler Giant Baba in disguise! He was merely testing the wrestling heroes to make sure they had the strength to defeat the Mad Bulls, although I fear he may have taken the test too far as I appear to have beaten him most of the way to death.

Now I can take on the real final boss: deep in his secret base full of random cables, jets of flame and TV sets that are erupting from the floor, it's time to do battle with the grotesque, bloated leader of the Mad Bulls in a desperate attempt to save wrestling once and for all. Hang on, does the boss have the head of a pig?

Nope, he has merely sliced the face off a pig and stapled it over his own face Jesus Christ that is horrifying.

He's an intimidating opponent, all right, and not just because of he's clearly a deranged serial killer with a backstory that probably revolves around being raised on an isolated pig farm by his abusive, inbred parents. All his attacks are highly damaging, but special mentions must go to this grab where he shakes you around by the neck - good for removing almost a whole health bar - and his admirable foresight in installing gas hobs on the floor of his lair from which he can summon jets of flame whenever he bloody well feels like. The attack to really watch out for is his rolling cannonball, though, because that's the one that can be easily blocked and then punished. You'll probably lose a few lives, but Knuckle Bash isn't the credit-hungry coin guzzler it could have been and before too long the Pigman will fall.

Everyone gathers to celebrate their victory, and it's nice to see them all together, even if only because it clarifies that an Elvis impersonator is hanging out with a ninja. "We have one thing left to do," says whichever character you beat Pigman with, but what could it be? Another foe to defeat? The remnants of Mad Bull's evil plan that must be wiped out? No, the answer is "take control of our destiny!" I'm not sure how that works, I would have classed beating up this entire criminal organization as some grade-A destiny-seizing already, but I suppose that as a humble and squishy normal person I will never understand the heart of wrestling hero.

Knuckle Bash ends with our five champions of justice staring out to sea and wondering who to suplex next while some text rounds off the proceedings. I've pasted all the text into one image for you, because I'm nice like that. What a Knuckle Bash it was, they laugh, not realise that "knuckle bash" isn't really a phrase or anything, but at least they can be happy that their story will be passed on from "mouth to mouth." Eww.

I'm glad that I've done my part to pass on the story of Knuckle Bash, even if it wasn't in the traditional mouth-to-mouth manner, because this is a game I had a hell of a lot of fun playing. Eighty percent of that is down to the atmosphere and the setting, but you've probably figured that out already. It's basic but enjoyable game mechanics provided Toaplan with a solid base for their madness to sprout from. Fights are fast and fierce, and the very short running time even feels like a plus because sometimes you want a short blast of arcade fun and if Knuckle Bash went on any longer it would start to wear out its welcome. It has flaws, many of them large and obvious - no real difference between the characters, not much in the way of strategy and bland music that doesn't live up to the rest of the game's aesthetic overindulgence - but for fun, pure, stupid fun, I would recommend everyone give Knuckle Bash a try.

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F-ZERO (SNES)

With today's article, I'm going to be doing the same thing I was doing for most of 1992: telling anyone who'll listen how great F-Zero is. Created by Nintendo and originally released in 1990, it's the high-speed SNES hover-race-em-up and genuine classic F-Zero! I may have given that away earlier in this paragraph.

With it's relatively sedate title screen and a logo that looks as though it was carved from Turkish delight, the opening moments of F-Zero are gentle, almost unassuming, but I can still remember the first time I saw it - visiting a friend who was an only child with a well-off family, a perfect combination of factors that led to him getting a SNES and most of the launch titles within months of it being released. We'd played a bit of Super Mario World, and while we enjoyed it it didn't set our hearts afire or anything. Don't get me wrong, Super Mario World is one of the finest games ever made, but in the EU it was less than a year since Super Mario Bros. 3 had come out and Super Mario World felt like more of the same. Super Soccer and F-Zero, though - they felt like a huge step up from the NES, especially once I'd seen F-Zero in motion and realised that the whole game looked like that, super-smooth and blisteringly fast, and it wasn't just some fancy effects brought in for the intro. I was so enamoured of ­F-Zero that when I started making fake videogame magazine using an ancient typewriter with an ink ribbon drier than a mummy's arsecrack, the entire first issue was devoted to F-Zero. What I'm saying is that this won't be an impartial, objective review.

On to the actual game, and let's meet the playable characters. Except we won't, because while there are characters in the driving seats of these vehicles, Captain Falcon being the most famous of them, they're never seen in-game. Instead, all you get to see are their F-Zero machines: four in all, with a range of stats, starting with the Blue Falcon. Captain Falcon's racer is an all-round machine average in every regard aside from being piloted by the coolest man in the galaxy. It also has an all-in-one windscreen and sunroof, like a Citroen C4. A good choice for the beginner, this one.

Ah, the Golden Fox, or the Flying Iron as we used to call it as kids. With the highest acceleration but the lowest top speed, the Golden Fox is a craft for the more experienced F-Zero pilot thanks to its tendency to slide around corners like a greased-up cat on a laminate floor. The Golden Fox is piloted by Dr. Stewart, a handsome and fabulously wealthy doctor who is also a race car driver and, one presumes, the hero of a romance novel who has somehow escaped into a different reality.

Next is the Wild Goose, another average craft that is extremely similar to the Blue Falcon only green and unaerodynamic. A little slipperier on corners, maybe. Its pilot is Pico, a vicious alien who lusts for death and carnage. You can tell he's evil, because he named his car after the most evil kind of bird.

Finally there's the Fire Stingray, a great big lump of a machine that sort of looks like a flamboyant fish. My personal favourite craft, it's the complete opposite of the Golden Fox: takes forever to get going but is the fastest once it is going, and it sticks to the corners better than anything else. Those are the qualities that make it my favourite, and not because I feel a kinship with anything fat and pink. The Fire Stingray's driver is Samurai Goroh, a samurai thief who wears the traditional samurai attire of a samurai sleeveless vest and a samurai flying cap. He's Captain Falcon's rival, although I'm not sure Captain Falcon sees it that way.

To get a look at the drivers we can turn to the manual, which famously included a short comic showing Captain Falcon doing his day job of being a bounty hunter before getting ready for the latest F-Zero race. Two things to mention here: one is that Dr. Stewart's name obviously wasn't nailed down at this point because the comic calls him Dr. Stuart, and the other is that everyone know that Pico is a murderer but nobody seems to give a shit.

The comic also shows just how much Captain Falcon looked like Judge Dredd in his first appearance. Giant gold birds all over him, black leather outfit, a face-obscuring helmet that he never takes off - I'd be very careful walking around Mega-City One dressed like that because if Dredd sees you it'll be straight into the iso-cubes for impersonating a Judge.

F-Zero features fifteen tracks split into three leagues of five, so let's begin with the Knight League (the easiest of the three) and its first track, the iconic raceway of Mute City. Unlike many other racing games of the time, there's no secret trick to getting a speed-boost by holding the accelerator at the correct time in F-Zero. If you hold down accelerate too early your vehicle will lurch ahead for a moment but then slow right down, allowing the other racers to breeze past you. However, and this is my top ­F-Zero advanced driving tip, the computer-controlled cars always start the race by driving forwards in a straight line, so if you're in a craft with lower acceleration (i.e. not the Golden Fox) you can use the momentary speed boost to position yourself right in front of one of the faster racers. They will then ram into your from behind, pushing you up to high speed and causing them to fall back. A bit of a dick move, sure, but Pico has already threatened to murder me so I think some start-line argy-bargy can be considered as close to fair play as F-Zero gets.

Then you're away, hurtling around the track at preposterous speeds and it's just plain good fun. F-Zero­'s then-unparalleled sense of speed is often mentioned as its main defining feature, and it certainly is a technological achievement that blows anything the NES could produce out of the water, but there's more to it than that. For one thing it's also extremely smooth, both in terms of the scenery flying by without so much as a hiccup and the perfectly implemented and surprisingly delicate controls that allow you to experience the high-speed action without the frustration of not being able to get your craft to go where it's supposed to be going. I think a big part of the control scheme's success is down to the addition of the air-brakes - operated by the L and R buttons, holding them down allows you to not only take corners at much sharper angles than you could otherwise but also to make fine left and right adjustments without having to use the d-pad.
That said, the sense of speed really is the key to F-Zero­'s success and it's all thanks to the SNES' famous Mode 7 graphical effects that allow the background to be scaled and rotated on the fly. It's sometimes said that F-Zero is nothing more than a tech demo designed to showcase the SNES' graphical grunt, and while I think that's a little harsh - there's a finely-honed gameplay experience under all the sparkles and stardust - it definitely made a powerful statement about just what Nintendo's new console was capable of.

Looking at Mute City, I think there might be something to the whole F-Zero / Judge Dredd connection, you know. As a vast, sprawling metropolis that covers the landscape as far as the eye can see, Mute City certainly shares some similarities with Dredd's home of Mega-City One, and the vehicle designs would fit nicely into the pages of 2000AD, but I suppose we'll never get to see much more of Mute City to look for further similarities because the F-Zero races take place on aerial raceways suspended many miles above the city. That's what all the glowing barriers around the edge of the track are for, they're to make sure you can't fall off.

Except you very much can fall off - mess up a jump after being launched from one of the game's ramps and you can plummet off the track and down to a fiery death in the city below. Good work, Captain Falcon, that's someone's bedroom that you've smashed your rocket-car into. To live in Mute City is to live with the constant terror that a flying racecar is going to fall from the sky and crush everything that you care about, but on the plus side it must keep house prices low.

Captain Falcon claims first place and the SNES seizes the chance to flex it's graphical muscles a little by spinning the camera into a side-on position. Because it looks cool, that's why.
Coming in first is the aim of F-Zero - it is a racing game, after all - but it's not the be-all and end-all because it doesn't use the usual points table of most "grand prix" games. Instead, you have to finish each lap in a certain position or higher, or you're eliminated from the race: fifteenth place or higher in the first lap, then tenth or higher in the second and so on until you reach the final lap where you must cross the finish line in one of the top three positions. It's an unusual system that has its merits and its disadvantages - you can come third in every race and still "win" the league and the extra leeway is helpful (and almost mandatory on the higher difficulties) but it does rather detract from the thrill of winning the race. That said, given that I've already managed to spread Captain Falcon's body over several city blocks once already I imagine most F-Zero pilots are just happy to finish the race with their lives intact.

Track two is Big Blue, a course built above an ocean planet, presumably in response to the protests of those Mute City homeowners who live under the racetrack. The course map in the bottom-left looks a bit like a slouching man with no legs. Don't ask what the protuberance sticking out of the right-hand side is, though.
The grey patches on the track aren't scattered piles of cat litter but spots that slow down you craft if you drive over them, so don't do that. Unless you have a speed boost available, of course: then you can boost across them with no penalty, often finding valuable time-saving paths through the grey sludge. You get one boost per lap, (excluding the first,) represented by the "S" icons at the bottom of the screen. Sadly, unlike in the later iterations of the F-Zero series, there's no overenthusiastic announcer to shout "YOU GOT BOOST POWER!" when you collect one.

Big Blue also features this big patch of slippery, eye-punishing track that makes your car slide around if you try to turn on it. Because Mode 7 can only handle flat objects, F-Zero­ makes use of many different "painted on" road surfaces that hamper your driving ability in one way or another, from draining your power bar to magnetically pulling you towards them. In the case of this ice(?) patch, you might be tempted to slam on the brakes when trying to negotiate it, but I'm not so sure. Maybe we should ask Captain Falcon for his advice?

Well, that's that sorted, then. It's surprisingly sound advice, too; braking in F-Zero­ is rarely the best way to negotiate any obstacle, with a combination of using the air-brakes and simply not accelerating usually allowing you to keep more speed through corners. A true story: when I started playing F-Zero for the purposes of this article, I honestly couldn't remember if there even was a brake button, so little is it required. If you find yourself drifting too wide, you can generally get back on course by repeatedly tapping accelerate until your craft is stable again, which is another point in F-Zero's favour - it's a game that's both immediately accessible to anyone who picks it up, but one which also rewards players who master advanced techniques.

From a watery ocean to Sand Ocean for the third track, and here I'm sending the Blue Falcon right into the barriers in an attempt to get a better look at that colossal snail shell in the background. I've always loved that thing, sitting at such a distance that it must be thousands of feet tall to appear so prominently. I love the F-Zero universe, I really do, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't equally interested in the story of a snail the size of Mount Kilimanjaro.

All that dithering around looking at snail shells like some far-future adrenaline junkie reincarnation of David Attenborough meant that I was overtaken... and not just by the other three named racers. Fall far enough down the pack any you'll find yourself being harassed by these anonymous and numerous racers that look like the "space" equivalent of a VW Beetle. They're very little threat on the lower difficulties, but on Expert and the unlockable Master setting they can give you a real run for your money. However, the real members of this interchangeable race team that will cause havoc with your plans for a top-three finish are the the ones that are way down in the pack. There are plenty of them, and they're so slow that you will lap many of them in each race, assuming you can get past them. There are no Formula 1-style rules about moving out of the way of cars trying to lap you in the distant future, and the anonymous craft will bumble about right in front of you, pootling around in your racing line and causing you to crash, their sole reason for entering this high-stakes race with inferior ships that have no chance of winning seemingly being to get right on your goddamn nerves. Well, mission accomplished, you bulbous, dithering pricks. Bravo. Did I mention that some of these machines will be so low on energy that if you touch them they explode, sending your craft bouncing around the course? Because that happens.

One touch I do like is that while they have the same sprite, the anonymous cars are coloured differently depending on whether they're ahead of you in the rankings or are about to get lapped - purple and green for the challengers and orange for the also-rans. It means you can tell them apart at a glance, although it doesn't really matter because either type will try their level best to smear themselves all over your cockpit anyway.

This is Death Wind, and looking at its course map you'd be forgiven for thinking you're in for an easy ride. However, Death Wind - as well as being a set-up for some nicely childish flatulence jokes - has a gimmick, and that gimmick is, erm, wind. A constant wind blows your car to the side as you travel down the long straights, which must be counteracted by either driving into the wind at an angle or using L and R to constantly adjust your position. The third option is to randomly bounce around the track like a rat in a pinball machine, but as that usually results in your craft exploding after all it's power is drained I can't in all good conscience recommend it. Hang on, that means F-Zero is a racing game with a health bar and extra lives. Weird.

The final Knight League track is Silence, and I hope you're a big fan of Pythagorean mathematics because this one's all right angles all the time, apart from the early corner pictured above. This represents F-Zero's first real offer of a shortcut: you can either take the safe but longer path around the gentle curve to the right, or you can head left through a short minefield. Oh, and you have to take a very sharp left at the end of the minefield to make sure you hit the next jump over a patch of slow-down goo. Now, I don't want to get too bossy about this but if you don't take the shortcut every time then you are playing F-Zero wrong. I'm telling you this for your own good: attempting this track on the higher difficulties and not taking the shortcut will almost always lead to you dropping places, so you might as well get some practise in while things are more gentle.

With Silence conquered - "survived" might be a better word - the Knight League is over. Your reward is footage of your craft zooming around the track shot from various angles as your lap times are displayed - and that's it, which leads us to what is probably F-Zero's single biggest flaw: there's just not much of it. There are the fifteen tracks and four racers you start with, and that's your lot. No unlockables besides one extra skill setting, no story or celebratory cutscenes and, worst of all, no multiplayer mode. For whatever reason, F-Zero is a strictly single-player affair, and it's hard not to think that a versus mode would have given it some much-needed extra lifespan for players who , unlike me, weren't obsessed with the game.

Let's get straight into the Queen league, then, and the first track is Mute City II. Yep, we're back in Mute City, where sales of car-proof umbrellas have gone through the roof (much like the Blue Falcon) and the time of day has shifted to a sunset scene. The only major change is that there's a massive roundabout in the middle of the course now. You can go left, you can go right, but they're the same distance and your choice is ultimately meaningless. A harsh life lesson from F-Zero, there.

The second Queen League race takes place in Captain Falcon's birthplace of Port Town, where the track is still apparently under construction. And I thought the residents of Mute City had it bad, but at least their floating death-trap was fully assembled.

Another feature new to Port Town are these magnetic strips that I mentioned earlier. They work like a reverse version of Death Wind's gales but, if you'll allow me to paraphrase from Wayne's World, while the wind blows, these suck, dragging you car towards them and grinding it against the energy-sapping barriers. They're worth the hassle, though, because when you turn a corner near the end of one their magnetic force slingshots you around the bend, and it's a ridiculous amount of fun for something so simple.

Now we've reached Red Canyon. There's not much to say about this one: it's like Sand Ocean visually, but with more jumping and thus more crashing into the arid wastes where if the explosion didn't kill you then the harsh conditions surely will. One thing I can mention is that Red Canyon has a kickin' soundtrack:

It's got a great mix of tense, jabbing horns and a relentless bassline that perfectly fits the nerve-wracking action as you bounce over the desert, and the Red Canyon theme is hardly alone in being great: right out of the gate, Naoto Ishida and Yumiko Kanki created one of the SNES's very best "action" soundtracks, especially if you love those driving basslines.

The Big Blue theme is my favourite. Possibly not just my favourite F-Zero track but my favourite thing. I tried to record it off the TV using a TalkBoy when I was a kid. It didn't work. I never even got to use the TalkBoy to mess with with my sister's date, either, although that might be because I don't have a sister.

This is White Land, where the land is purple and Trading Standards have already been called. Okay, so a lot of the track is white, what with all the fake snow covering it. I assume it's fake snow, anyway. It must be, because the F-Zero racers are hovering so why would snow affect them? Of course, this is clearly some bizarre alien world given over almost entirely to the farming of violets and other purple flowers, so maybe the white stuff is a collection of unearthly crystals that mess with the F-Zero machines' G-Diffuser systems. Oh yeah, the G-Diffuser system is the technology that powers F-Zero machines and also reduces the G-forces felt by the driver, allowing them to scream around the track at five hundred kilometres an hour without their necks snapping like twigs whenever they turn a corner. A piece of Nintendo trivia for you (which I think is fairly widely known now): the G-Diffuser system is also used by the Arwings in the StarFox series. So, F-Zero takes place in the same universe as StarFox, which explains how Fox McCloud's dad pitched up in F-Zero X but not how he turned from an fox into a human.

The last course of the Queen League is White Land II, and yes, it is a little underwhelming to have two tracks with the same setting back-to-back. Nintendo did at least give each track a different variation of the same musical theme, which is pretty cool.
A couple of thing to note about White Land II: one is these blue energy-draining panels that you can save a couple of seconds on by driving straight through them. You lose a bit of energy, but real men don't use brakes and real men don't not drive through roadside obstacles, potentially damaging their vehicles for the sake of a small reduction in lap times.

The other thing is this ruddy great jump over nothingness: my nemesis, my downfall, my thing I swear at more than anything else in F-Zero which is quite an achievement when you remember all those anonymous cars that are driving right in front of you all the time. My problem with it is that it costs me at least one life every time I try the Queen League, because I always forget it's coming up and it's right after a corner so there's no guarantee you'll have enough speed to make the jump. That's fine on the later laps when you have a speed boost available, but for me the first lap of White Land II is usually going smoothly until I remember - too late, always too late - about this whacking great hole in the road. Still, once I've made it past that first lap it's plain sailing and the Queen League is in the bag.

We're in the King League now, and a new league means a new Mute City track. Mute City III takes place at night, and I think it's the best-looking of the three because it's got that neon-hued cyberpunk look to it. You can't have cyberpunk in the daytime, it's like drinking scotch at nine AM - sometimes interesting, but not just right on a basic level. It's nice to see Nintendo taking the colourful, vibrant style that they're known for and applying it to a science fiction setting - their only major sci-fi game before this was Metroid, and that's mostly dark and claustrophobic, quite unlike F-Zero's expansive landscapes.

The tracks are also getting much more challenging now, with some ferocious course designs and an abundance of obstacles that means surviving the race without running out of power is as much of a consideration as coming in first. You see that red circle I'm about to drive over? That's a land mine. Someone put land mines all over the road for the entertainment of the viewers of home. The F-Zero backstory is that the races were put together by a group of fabulously wealthy and extremely bored businessmen, proving that even in the far future you can get away with being an absolute dick if you have enough cash.
Not that I'm complaining about the land mines, mind you, or any of the other obstacles - F-Zero's combination of high-octance racing and precise controls means that weaving through them is never less than exciting, the slickness and pure action creating a racing experience that I don't think was ever bettered on any 16-bit platform.

This is Death Wind II, where the wind is still in full effect but the previously basic loop of the track has sprouted a bulging nightmare section of sharp corners and narrow track. It is a testament to this track's ability to thoroughly wreck your vehicle that it's one of the very few where you're forced to drive through the energy-restoring pit lane.

Third in the King League is Port Town II, and like Death Wind II it takes the first iteration of the course and grafts on a bunch of punishing new additions, like a Frankenstein swapping one of its arms for a boombox that only plays recording of seagulls fighting.
In the screenshot above, I've ended up in a tricky situation because there's no way I'm getting through that kink in the road without either crashing into the Blue Falcon or grinding against the barriers. For all my praise of F-Zero­'s gameplay - praise that is still fully justified - there is one area where it lets itself down, and that's collisions with other vehicles. The problem is that it's all just a bit random, and when you hit another car you're never sure how your vehicle will react. Sometimes you'll bounce off each other in a relatively sedate manner, sometimes you'll shoot off in a direction completely unrelated to the angle of impact and still other times you'll "stick" to the other car for a short while. If there were only you and the three other "named" racers on the track it wouldn't be so much of a problem, but the swarms of anonymous drivers that are there for no other reason than to get in your face mean that finding a clear driving line, especially on these later, tougher tracks - can sometimes switch from "challenging" to "frustrating."

The penultimate track is Red Canyon II, a relatively sedate affair that is markedly easier than all the other tracks in the King League. "Sedate" seems like and odd word to describe a track in which the most memorable feature is the chance to take a shortcut by jumping off the course and then bouncing back onto it by landing on a giant arrow made of jump pads, but there you go.

The final test of your F-Zero skills is Fire Field, a racetrack built on a planet whose surface is an endless vista of roiling lava. I know the founders of F-Zero were very rich and very bored, but just how rich and bored to you have to be to think this is a good idea? And where did they find a construction company willing to build this thing? Most builders won't show up for work if there's a light drizzle, never mind a relentless tide of all-consuming molten rock.

As you would expect from the last course in the game, Fire Field throws everything at the player in an attempt to make their vehicle explodes. Land mines, magnets, slip zones, you name it, it's here at Fire Field in quantities that make me wonder if this track wasn't created solely as a means of using up all the F-Zero league's leftover bullshit. The real malice of Fire Field, however, is found right at the end of the lap, where the game makes you choose between taking the short route along the final stretch to the finish line or going the long way around... which is where the only energy-restoring patch of track is located. That is just cruel, especially on a course where unless you're an F-Zero master you'll need every scrap of energy you can get lest you explode.

Yeah, like that.
I found that the best strategy was to go for the extra energy on every lap apart from the last, and then hope that whatever you've got left in the tank will see you through the final lap, all the while praying that one of the anonymous cars doesn't slam into you or park itself near the magnet rails.

It all worked out in the end, although it would have been a much easier ride if I wasn't playing as the Golden Fox because Fire Field has more corners than a box full of octagons. With a little perseverance, though, I managed to race to victory. By finishing third. Look, I'll take it.
With that, F-Zero is over, and sadly I mean that there's almost nothing else new to do in the game. As I mentioned, you can unlock the Master difficulty level for each league, but that's not much of a reward because rather than making the CPU racers more intelligent or devious it just makes them faster.

Much, much faster, in fact - in Master mode you can be flying along at top speed in the Fire Stingray (the fastest craft in the game, don't forget) and even the anonymous racers will simply glide past you on the long straights. It's not rewarding to beat or even much fun, it's just annoying. You do get a slightly different ending for finishing a league on Master difficulty... but as it just shows a top-down view of your vehicle and offers some generic congratulatory message, it's not really worth the stress of beating F-Zero at the highest level.

As I look back on F-Zero with a more critical eye (or the cynicism of age) I realise that perhaps it is not quite the flawless masterpiece that a young VGJunk believed it to be. It's very bare-bones, the difficulty curve is cheap rather than challenging and the mysterious whims that control the inter-vehicle collisions can lead to some frustration - but it's still a very good game. A great game, even, a game that stormed into the 16-bit marketplace and screamed "look at this cool shit," a game packed with Nintendo's traditional graphical quality and one of the best soundtracks of the genre and, most importantly, a game that is still fun to play even today. Some games do not age well, but F-Zero's mix of of simple, exciting gameplay and retro charm means that it has aged like a fine wine. It's also like a fine wine in the sense that I enjoy it so much that I gorge on it and then get a headache.

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