Showing posts with label technos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label technos. Show all posts

20/10/2017

BOGEY MANOR (ARCADE)

Today’s game is called Bogeyman Or, where you’re given a few facts about a monster and have to guess whether it’s the infamous child-scaring Bogeyman or some other nightmarish creature. No, wait, my mistake. It’s actually a 1985 arcade game from Technos called Bogey Manor. Fortunately it has nothing to do with golf.


What it does have is a title screen featuring a wonderful blood-drenched logo and this superb cartoon ghost – a slime-ghost, even, going about its ghostly business and leaving a trail of ectoplasm wherever it wanders. Actually, it’s got kind of an upsetting face for a cartoon ghost, don’t you think? Ghosts have always struck me as the least terrifying Halloween monster, but I’d be more inclined to fear them if they all looked like angry mutant sea-lions made from snot. Oh, hey, is that why this is called Bogey Manor? God, I hope not.


Bogey Manor doesn’t offer you any story or explanation before you insert your coins. All you get is the order to “get ready” and the knowledge that this is only house number one. Presumably there will be a multitude of houses, and those houses will have ghosts in them. Will the ghosts need to be busted? Probably. Hang on, I’m going to revise that to “definitely” because I’ve just seen Bogey Manor’s arcade flyer and it says the game features “a theme reminiscent of GHOSTBUSTERS” and I’m pretty sure it doesn’t mean the musical theme. Let’s hope that busting in Bogey Manor makes me feel good. It would be nice to feel good for a change.


It’s straight into the action once you hit start, and here’s the first screen of Bogey Manor’s first, erm, manor. You play as the little red-and-blue chap at the bottom-right of the screen. His name is Fritz – no, really – and appropriately enough he seems to be dressed in a bootleg Power Rangers costume. Well, it's the right time of year for it. At the top of the screen is a ghost, and Bogey Manor has once again delivered a really cool-looking ghost: still green, still slimy and with an expression formed from melting facial features that suggest the ghost is being subjected to a lingering afterlife of constant misery.


Bogey Manor is a simple game, mostly – but it’s one of those games that’s surprisingly difficult to summarise succinctly. I’ll begin with the very basics. Every manor has four screens (East, North, West and South) and you can move between them by walking off the left or right off the edge of the screen. The rooms are all connected in a loop, so if you keep walking in the same direction you’ll eventually end up back where you started. Each screen also has four floors, which you can move between by walking up and down these staircases. In most houses, only the floor Fritz is standing on is illuminated, so you’ll have to travel between the floors in order to find your real target: these crystal balls.


The true goal of each house is to find all of the crystal ball pedestals contained within and give them a good whack with the stick Fritz is carrying around. Break all the crystals in a house and you’ve cleared the stage. Well, nearly, but we’ll get to that. So, that’s Bogey Manor in a nutshell. Explore the houses, avoid the ghosts and smash all the crystals. I hope you’re not the kind of player who needs a reason to be doing all these things, because I don’t have one. It’s not like the ghosts ever leave the house – a house that, for all we know, might be the ghosts’ home. They’re minding their own business when Fritz barges in and starts smashing up their glassware with no clear goal in mind, so if you do need a sense of motivation then “Fritz is kind of a dick” is going to have to be it.


I managed to find a magical ring that made all the floor visible at once, which definitely helped in tracking down the last couple of crystal balls. It also made it clear that the wall in the top-right corner is in the shape of a ghost. I did worry that I was suffering from some kind of Halloween-related pareidolia but no, that’s obviously supposed to be a spooky wall.


Once you’ve destroyed all the crystals, there’s one last thing to do before the stage ends: escape from the house as it collapses around you. The exit door is on always on the bottom floor, so here’s a top Bogey Manor tip for you: make sure you always get rid of the crystals on the upper floors first. Fritz might have the brass balls required to enter this ghost-infested mansion, but his bravery far exceeds his athleticism and he’s not exactly light on his feet. He’s a bit slow, even, and because the house collapses from the top down you probably won’t get Fritz to waddle his stumpy little legs down to the exit before he’s buried under the falling masonry. Clear the bottom floor last, though, and you’re already near the door and you’ll have no trouble escaping.


Now we’re on to house number two. The gameplay’s the same, but things are spiced up by a fresh mock-Tudor look to the backgrounds and some new enemies of varying levels of Halloweenosity. There are Frankensteins, and you can’t argue against their Halloween credentials, especially when they’re the classic flat-top and green skin variety. Then there are these furry little hairballs that scurry around, getting Fritz’s way – and, of course, Fritz dies in one hit, so watch out for that. I was going to call them Critters or demonic tribbles or something, but then I realised what they actually remind me of are the McDonalds Fry Guys.


As well as being big lumbering units that can and will block Fritz’s path, the Frankensteins also have the ability to throw an angry strop near these pink sections of the floor. Doing so makes those sections of floor spin around, which will hinder Fritz’s movements. If you’re on the pink floors while they’re spinning, you’ll either be catapulted into the ceiling and hang there for a moment before falling back down (usually into the arms of a patrolling Frankenstein) or you’ll fall through the trap door and onto the floor below. It’s generally not difficult to avoid these traps, and you might not want to avoid them because you can use them to your own advantage. Fritz can hit them with his stick, and they can stun certain monsters while they’re spinning, and that can come in handy in later, busier houses. I even managed to quickly escape to the floor below a couple of times by purposefully spinning the floor while standing on it, although that’s a risky manoeuvre because you’re equally likely to embed yourself in the ceiling as you are to fall to the floor below.


House three introduces another Halloween mainstay with the wicked witch, and what fun-looking witches they are too, with pale faces and curious elongated jaws that look more like the bleached skulls of some abyssal fish than anything else. However, it’s hard to warm to the witches because they attack with projectiles (which look a lot like the delicious potato-based snack Hula Hoops) and I’m sure you realise how frustrating it is to deal with projectile attacks in a game that’s played almost exclusively in long, narrow, horizontal corridors with a player character that can neither duck nor jump. Then, just when you think you’ve gotten over your hatred of the witches, a different version of them turns up later and their projectiles warp you to a different part of the screen if they hit you. I think I preferred it when they just killed you outright.


The hordes of deadly monsters might seem overwhelming, and once you get past house six or so then yes, they are, but Fritz can fight back. He does have a stick, after all, and surprisingly it can be used to batter ghosts into submission for a little while. However, you can’t just run in and start swinging, oh no. First you have to stun the enemies by using the “trick” button. According to the flyer, this “scares” the monsters, and once they’re scared you can get to whacking. Putting aside the seemingly ludicrous prospect of scaring a Frankenstein, what Fritz actually does is make his hand big and kinda... point his finger near the enemy. Thus I have come to the conclusion that Fritz’s plan is to use the old “what’s that behind you!?” technique and then batter the monster when they look away. He’s a crafty one, is Fritz.


House three also has a fantastic “haunted cabin in the woods” look to it, with the dramatic highlight being this big monster face peering in through the wall. In fact, all the different house types have something creepy in the top-right corners of their rooms, and only in the top-right corners, which is a bit odd. I suppose it’s because the top floor is a bit taller than the other three.
Repetitive placement of leering otherworldly horrors aside, Bogey Manor does look good and definitely has plenty of the Halloween spirit about it, with the unfortunate exception of Fritz himself. Like, it’s good that he’s safety-conscious enough to wear a helmet while exploring these dilapidated houses, I’d prefer it if he was, I dunno, a regular trick-or-treater or even if Technos had-gone all-in with the “theme reminiscent of Ghostbusters” and made him Egon Spengler.


The next house has the quirk of being constantly illuminated, so you can see exactly what’s going on at all times and also get the full effect of being under the spooky Mona Lisa’s watchful gaze the entire time. So what can we see? Well, there are some doors in the background and yes, Fritz can enter them by pressing up on the joystick. Going into a door makes you come out of a different door on the same screen, although there’s no indication of which door you’ll exit from and so I tended to avoid using the doors because whenever I did I always seemed to step out right in front of a monster.
Speaking of monsters, the new one here is… another witch? There’s one at the top of the screen. It’s got green skin and a broomstick, so if it’s not a witch then it’s a very unwell janitor. I’m sorry? What’s that? It is a janitor? Well blow me down, so it is. As well as killing you if you touch it, these mop-wielding monsters can clean up the stage around them. Sometimes they’ll scrub the doors in the background and remove them from play, but far more frustrating than that is their ability to fix crystal spheres that Fritz has previously smashed. They must be getting paid by the hour because they’re in no hurry to fix the broken crystals, but they can do it and having to re-locate a crystal I’d already broken definitely got me killed more than once.
Anything else new in this house? Well, one of the doors in the haunted mansion was pulsating with a mysterious light, so naturally I stepped through said door as soon as I could because it’s probably full of cakes and puppies.


Turns out the door contained something even better – the power to transform Fritz in Super Fritz. I guess he really is a Power Ranger, and he’s getting one hell of an upgrade here. I genuinely laughed out loud the first time I saw this, and it’s just so ludicrously over-the-top that I can’t help but love it. Even his shoes get an upgrade. Fritz is Iron Man and Inspector Gadget rolled into one brightly-coloured ghost-avoiding package now, although I never did manage to get him to fire his Fritz Laser Gun. Not pictured: the Mega Fritz Noise-Cancelling Undergarments, Super Fritz’s Totally Sweet Ride, The Hyper-Secret Fritz Pass-Card That Grants Access to the Hidden Archives of the Vatican.


Super Fritz’s main power is that he can jump between the different floors of the house without needing to use the doors or the staircases. Not terribly exciting, but extremely useful. Make the best of it while you can, because the transformation doesn’t last forever and eventually you’ll change back to regular, stick-swingin’ Fritz. In fact, if you’re the kind of person who cares about high scores (and shooting for the Top Players table is probably the biggest motivation for playing Bogey Manor) then you might not want to be Super Fritz, because there’s a points bonus for finishing the stage without using the transformation.


Once you reach house five, you’ve seen just about everything Bogey Manor has to offer. The final new enemy is revealed, and it’s a flying Medusa that drifts across the screens while daintily holding her skirt. Makes sense to me, presumably these haunted houses are filthy and she’s not wearing any shoes. I’m not really sure what Medusa’s gimmick is supposed to be, if she even has one: mostly she just flits around the rooms in a surprisingly easy-to-avoid fashion. Oh well, at least her sprite looks nice.


With just about everything in Bogey Manor having been introduced by this point, now it becomes a matter of survival, clearing as many houses and racking up as big a score as you can. That’s something I spent longer doing than I thought I would have, because it turns out that Bogey Manor is actually pretty good fun. It’s a simple game that feels – very strongly feels – like the very definition of an “arcade game”, you know? Like, if someone tasked me with creating a game that felt like a mid-eighties coin-op there’s a good chance I would have come up with something very similar to Bogey Manor: single-screen, monster-dodging action where the player has to activate certain parts of the game world to clear each stage with only limited offensive capabilities to protect them and a power-up that transforms you into a “super” version of your character. I probably would have also given my game a “spooky monsters” theme, but that’s just coincidence. It’s very easy to draw an evolutionary line from Pac-Man to Bogey Manor, but Bogey Manor also has the benefit of possessing enough interesting gameplay quirks to keep it that bit more interesting. It's especially nice that it finds a good balance between having to strategise your movements to avoid monsters and reach the crystals, while still giving you a chance to escape with quick reactions when things go wrong.


One of the things that kept me playing Bogey Manor was a sense of mystery. The basics of the game are simple to grasp, but I had the constant feeling that there was more to it that I wasn’t quite understanding. For instance, the crystals you need to smash come in three different colours. Are the colours somehow linked to the appearance of Super Fritz’s Magical Quick-Change Wardrobes, or the room-illuminating pieces of jewellery that may or may not pop up in each stage? I’m not sure, but I think they might be. Or there’s the fact that around room twenty, I realised there are a bunch of spots in each stage where you can hold up and attack to smash up the background. You get points for doing this. You can also reveal hidden teleporter doors this way. Are there any other secrets to be found using this method? I haven’t got a bloody clue, but I wouldn’t bet against it and if you’re looking for a mostly-forgotten arcade game to really obsess over and take apart in minute detail, then Bogey Manor might be a good bet.


It helps that it’s a nicely put-together game, too. The graphics are lovely, with a lot of charm in both the backgrounds and the monsters. Highlights include the truly defeated look of the Frankensteins once you managed to hit them with the old scare-and-slap, presumably intended to portray the absolute shame of being mugged off by a child, and the vengeful appearance of the ghosts when they recover from a beating. The music’s good, too. The flyer describes it as “Spookey (sic) Organ Music,” which it isn’t but it sounds as close as you’re likely to get with the audio capabilities of a 1985 arcade game.


Of course, none of that matters much if the game doesn’t play well, but fortunately Bogey Manor does okay on that front, so long as you remember it is, as I say, a 1985 arcade game. By that I mean it’s rock hard once you’ve gotten further than house five or six. Monsters are everywhere, a single mistake means death and I don’t think there’s any way to get extra lives, but that was par for the course at the time. It’s hectic and difficult but rarely feels too unfair, and thankfully it mostly controls well and Fritz does as he’s told aside from the occasional issue with getting him to walk up or down the stairs.


So you might be thinking “does Bogey Manor have an ending, or is going for a 'surprise, Fritz was in Hell all along and his eternal punishment is to smash crystals and swear at teleporting witches for the rest of time'” kind of vibe. Well, here’s the thing: there is an ending, but I couldn’t seem to trigger it. I made it all the way to house forty, which seemed like any other stage at first until I realised there were two glowing doors. So, I became Super Fritz and then went into the other door to emerge as Mega Fritz. He’s purple and invincible and it really felt like there was something I was missing about him, but I finished the stage anyway and moved on to house forty-one.


So far, so familiar. Mega Fritz was gone, so I heaved a heavy sigh – even though I enjoyed Bogey Manor it does get a bit wearing after forty stages – and cleared house forty-one. Then the game sent me to… house forty-one. Again. And again, and again. At this point, as far as I was concerned stage forty-one is where Bogey Manor ends, and I was all set to complain about the lack of an ending, maybe one where Fritz becomes the new Prince of the Underworld after having beaten all its inhabitants into submission. But then I saw a video of someone beating Bogey Manor by clearing stage forty. They finished the stage and an ending played, and I have no idea what I did wrong that prevented me from seeing it. It could be all manner of things, I suppose. Maybe I didn’t smash enough background elements, maybe I took too long, maybe it was an emulation error.


And the ending? It’s a very simple one: just some text on a black background. It reads “The evil is destroy. Peace. And what happened to Fritz. Only the gods know. Thank you.” Now that’s an ending that’s just weird enough for me to be pissed off that I didn’t manage to unlock it myself, because it implies the gods sent a champion to fight the monsters but they created him in the form of a tokusatsu hero.


See what I mean about mysteries? Bogey Manor is full of them, but sadly I don’t have the time – okay, I don’t have the patience – to unravel them all. I’m still glad I played it, though. It’s a slice of arcade action with a very “classic” feel to it, infused with just enough gameplay quirks to keep it interesting and liberally coated in a thick sludge of Halloweenosity. Thank you, Bogey Manor, for giving me the opportunity to make a Frankenstein look like a proper chump during this Halloween season.


And so we turn to the Halloween-O-Meter, where Bogey Manor scores a more-than-respectable eight out of ten. That ghost on the title screen is worth a solid five points all on its own, and the inclusion of Frankensteins, witches and shadowy, fanged faces peering through the splintered wood of a haunted cabin net it the rest of the points. It could have scored more highly if the main character didn’t look like the mascot for a cycling safety cartoon.

24/05/2011

WWF WRESTLEFEST

Come with me, back to a time when you could turn on your TV and watch a huge man dressed as a drill sergeant drop-kick a voodoo priest, a time when the hair was long and lank, the theme songs were more bombastic than an eagle dropping an atom bomb on a vodka-swigging bear and the muscles bulged like a condom with a sack of potatoes poured inside. I am, of course, talking about pro-wrestling's glorious zenith: the WWF of the early nineties. There were plenty of WWF games made at the time, but today I'll be looking at one of the lesser-remembered ones: Technos' 1991 off-the-top-turnbuckle-em-up WWF WrestleFest.

When I was a kid, the WWF was pretty much the most exciting thing that existed, with every convoluted twist and nonsensical turn of the story demanding my utmost attention, the lives of these oily neon gods seeming like a religion worth following. If you'd declared that Bret Hart was the Second Coming of Christ and The Undertaker was Satan given mortal form, I would have believed you. I'm sure part of me knew that it was fake, probably due to attempting a suplex on my little brother and almost killing him or something, but (and this is the important bit) I didn't give a shit.
What I'm getting at is that wrestling from this era was something that I loved dearly and holds a large amount of nostalgic power over me, so this article may have something of a bias toward a general feeling of awesomeness.
First off, WrestleFest gives you two two game modes to choose from:

The main mode is "Saturday Night's Main Event", where you pick two wrestlers, form a tag team and battle your way through a series of computer-controlled tag teams until you reach the championship match with the Legion of Doom.

The other mode is "Royal Rumble". You choose your fighter and get plonked in the ring with five other wrestlers. If a wrestler is pinned for a three count, submits from a hold or is unceremoniously tossed out of the ring like a Christmas tree in mid-January then they're eliminated and a new wrestler jumps into the ring. This goes on until either a) you're eliminated or b) everyone else is.
Of course, the WWF's main appeal lay in the personalities of the wrestlers, so let's take a look at the mean mountains of muscle at your command.

Hulk Hogan

The most golden of tresses, the most orange of skin, a man who was so perpetually pumped-up he couldn't even take his shirt off with damaging it: Hulk Hogan was, is and probably always will be the world's most famous wrestling star. His portrait in WrestleFest doesn't quite capture his full glory, as they seem to have given him a rather severe lazy eye. Let that be a lesson to you, kids: don't use steroids or your eyes might fall out.

The Ultimate Warrior

A terrifying golem made of muscle, feathered hair and neon ribbons, The Ultimate Warrior (real, legal name- "Warrior") eschewed the standard WWF practice of cultivating a gimmick or ring persona by simply being a complete nutjob.

Mr. Perfect

AKA Curt Hennig, Mr. Perfect's gimmick was that he was, well, perfect. In an example of what made the WWF great, a man called "Mr. Perfect" wasn't even the most narcissistic wrestler around, a title which went to "The Narcissist" Lex Luger.
Big Boss Man

An angry Southern police man, seemingly designed to make impressionable children distrust and fear authority figures. Possibly a decent strategy, as I imagine kids would have a lot more respect for the law if they thought a policeman was going to turn up and piledrive them for nicking a few sweets from the tuck shop.

Sgt. Slaughter

With his military theme and drill-sergeant demeanour, Sgt. Slaughter proved that American entertainment is sensitive and respectful when he was portrayed as a traitor to America who worked with an evil Iraqi general during the Gulf War. Classy.

Earthquake

His gimmick is lard, and boy does he know how to use it. By sitting on you, that's how.

Jake "The Snake" Roberts

Jake clearly isn't an actual snake. You've lied to me, WWF! But he did carry one around with him a lot, and that time his cobra bit Macho Man Randy Savage was the stuff of playground legends: for possibly the first time in recorded history, a man in tights sporting the unfortunate "receding mullet" hairstyle was the coolest man on Earth.

Ted "The Million Dollar Man" DiBiase

My all-time favourite wrestler - while all the other kids wanted to be The Hulkster or Bret Hart, I was always DiBiase. Why? Because he was an absolute dick, that's why. His schtick was his vast wealth, which he used to pay people to perform humiliating acts, buy the support of wrestlers and, best of all, create his own diamond-studded "Million Dollar Belt" because he couldn't win a proper title. I personally find it very hard to dislike a man who can think around problems like that.

The Demolition

Sorry, Crush and Smash, but I just don't remember you. I'm sure you were cool and all, but when it comes to face-painted tag-teams with violent-sounding names, there was only one pair of villains to turn to...

Legion of Doom

I'm not sure the Legion of Doom understood the concept of the word "legion", but it didn't matter: the two of them were as powerful as a thousand men. Okay, maybe not in real life, but they are in WrestleFest. They're your final opponents in the tag-team mode, and they're much harder than everyone else you'll face.

The gameplay is essentially the same as Technos' previous effort, WWF Superstars. The controls are simple enough: you've got a punch button, a kick button and pressing them both together makes you run. Obviously kicking and punching is no way to kick ass in a wrestling game, so you'll be wanting to grapple with your opponent and bust out a devastating move. Okay, sure, but here's where I sort of lose track with WrestleFest: I have no idea how the grappling works.

Okay, I have some idea what's going on. Once you're grappling with your opponent, pressing punch gets them in a headlock. You can drag them around by the neck for a while, or you can press punch again to perform a damaging move or press kick to Irish whip them across the ring. That makes sense, but what I don't understand is how you win the grapples. In most wrestling games, Royal Rumble on the SNES for instance, you have to mash the buttons to win the grapple in a sort of tug-of-war system, but this doesn't seem to be the case in WrestleFest. So, sometimes you win the grapple and sometimes you don't, and there doesn't seem to be much rhyme or reason to it, unless like me you're playing as Ted DiBiase and you can safely assume that whenever he wins a grapple, he paid the other wrestler to let him win.

The confusing aspect is that you're never sure what move's going to come out of the grapple if you do win it. At least this bit seems to make a little more sense: certain moves are more likely to come out when you're in a certain position or if you or your opponent is low on health.
Other than the confusion regarding the grappling (and that might well just be me not getting it), the gameplay is a lot of fun. Your characters move around smoothly, and getting them to do what you want (climbing up to the top rope and jumping on a downed opponent, for example) is intuitive enough.

The main gameplay challenges don't so much come from the fighting, but effective use of your partner. Every so often your partner will "power-up", as indicated by it subtly saying POWER UP over their health bar. If you tag them in while their powered up, they always win their grapples and do more damage. In general, most of the strategy comes down to making good use of tagging out. Of course, this works both ways: if you're trying to pin someone, their teammate will run into the ring and kick you off. Unless, that is, you take control of your teammate and stop their teammate from preventing you from making the pin. What? Where was I? I confused myself a little there, but trust me, it all makes sense and works nicely. You can even drag people over to your teammate and let them batter your foe while you hold them still.

The moves themselves are all nicely represented, and few things in this world are as satisfying as giving someone a digital piledriver, complete with meaty-sounding sound effects. Best of all, everyone can perform their signature moves! Hulk Hogan's got his flying leg drop (large man jumps on you), Earthquake's got his Earthquake Splash (huge man jumps on you) and Ted DiBiase has the Million Dollar Dream (large man strangles you until you lose conciousness).

Graphics wise, I love WrestleFest, I really do. Aside from a couple of wonky portraits and the extremely feeble-looking kick animation that everyone seems to have, they're excellent in a very specific way that really captures the over-the-top, day-glo glow nature of WWF at the time. Everything feels "big" in an undefinable way that, at the time, only arcade games could deliver.
Sound-wise, the effects are good and solid, and there's even commentary. Sure, it's occasionally garbled, but you get the idea. As for the music, I can't really say I heard that much of it over the sounds of men bashing into each other, but I did notice that the start of the intro music sounds like the wedding march from some parallel dimension, perhaps an alternate universe when humans re-evolved from wrestlers, who were the only survivors of a global catastrophe.



Like I said at the start, nostalgia was always going to play a part in shaping my opinions of WWF WrestleFest. Would I enjoy it as much if it didn't have the WWF license and instead featured poor imitations like Henk Horgan, Mr. Flawless or Major Carnage? Okay, bad example, because I would love it if it was like that, complete with a poorly-translated intro that explains they're fighting to become the "Number One Quarreler". You know what I mean, though, and yes: the WWF license and my nostalgia do make a difference. In the end, though, it makes much less of a difference than I though it would. WrestleFest is a solidly put-together game, and it's fun, pure and simple; nothing complicated, just good clean arcade fun. Whack it on four-player mode, start up a Royal Rumble and prepare for good times. As the late, great Macho Man Randy Savage would say: OOOOHHH YEEEEAAAHHH!

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