When darkness covers the land and the ones he cares about are placed in peril, there’s only one grease-painted, burger-slinging mascot mighty enough to fight for justice. His name is Ronald McDonald, and he’s here to save the day in Data East’s 1987 Famicom-only super-size-em-up Donald Land!
Writing about something called “Donald Land” at this moment in history serves as a grim reminder about the current state of world politics, but we can forget all about that with this, a game all about McDonald’s and the wide variety of colourful characters the company has created over the years in order to sell burgers to kids. You might be wondering why a game about McDonald’s isn’t called McDonald Land: that’s because in Japan, Ronald McDonald is called Donald McDonald. Apparently the reason for this is the lack of distinction between L and R in Japanese, although the fact that the first person to teach English to the Japanese was called Ranald MacDonald might have something to do with it.
If you leave the game sitting at the title screen for a while, eventually you’re treated to a scene where the McDonaldland family are introduced. All your favourites are here – Ronald, of course, Grimace, the Hamburglar, etcetera. However, Officer Big Mac has been renamed “Big Mac Police,” so perhaps crime was getting out of hand in McDonaldland and they’ve had to recruit an entire burger-bonced police force. Their main duties involve beating up environmental protesters.
You also get to see the villain of the piece, who has abducted all the denizens of McDonaldland. Yes, it’s a clown-on-clown grudge match. Whoever wins, we lose.
Getting straight into it, and Donald Land is a platformer, because of course it is. That’s just what you did when you were making videogames based on basically characterless marketing mascots back then. Ronald runs and jumps – here he’s prancing over a gangster who was trapped under a safe he was trying to crack – and generally attempts to make it through each of the stages without dying. There’s not much else you can say about the platforming aspects of Donald Land, really. It all works well enough. There’s a slight delay between pressing jump and actually jumping that might throw you off until you’ve played for a while and gotten used to it, and Ronald can feel a little slippery when landing from a jump. If fact, I’d estimate about ninety percent of the deaths I suffered in Donald Land were because I slid off off a ledge that I thought gravity and friction would tether me to. All in all, it’s not as good as the very best of the genre, your Mario Bros. and such, but it’s well above average for a licensed Famicom platformer.
As well as the leaping and prancing and falling to his death, Ronald can also attack the monsters… by throwing bombs at them. That’s a bomb in the screenshot above, the red thing on top of the pile of boxes. No, not the red thing on the spring, the red thing next to the red thing on the spring. Yeah, the apple. Except it’s not an apple, because it explodes. Now, one look at me will tell you I’m not the kind of person to spend much time around fruit, but even I know that apples aren’t explosive, so Ronald must have painted all his bombs to look like apples. A clown with access to high explosives is a worrying thought, but on the plus side being incinerated in a fiery blast is a far quicker and more merciful death than you’d usually get from a clown.
It doesn’t take long to reach the first boss, which is a goggle-eyed woodpecker that attacks by hammering the tree until things fall out of it. What are those things? I haven’t got a clue. I thought they were eggs at first, but what kind of madman stores eggs in a tree? Apart from, erm, birds, I guess. Also they have eyes. Eggs do not generally have eyes. They have been carefully bred and cultivated over many generations not to have eyes, so you don’t feel bad about cracking them open against the side of a bowl. Sadly, I think “things” is the best description we’re going to get.
The way to defeat the woodpecker is to throw bombs at it, of course, but things aren’t quite that simple and Ronald’s explosives take a bit of getting used to. He throws them in an arc, as you might expect, but the shape of the arc is influenced by whether you’re moving and what direction you’re pressing on the pad. Normally they’ll travel in a predictable arc, but it you’re walking or running they’ll fly further, and you can also drop them at your feet. Then bombs are sticky, too, and if you manage to chuck one directly into a bad guy it’ll stay attached to them until it explodes. Combine this multitude of attack angles with the fact you can only have one bomb on screen at a time (unless you collect a power-up) and mastering the use of your apple bombs becomes the single most important part of Donald Land. Happily, the woodpecker offers some good training as it shimmies up and down the tree… or at least it would, if it didn’t only take one bomb to defeat.
Between stages, you can exchange the burger tokens Ronald has collected for things like extra lives and health refills, and you also get to play a simple card-flipping minigame. Pick a random card and hope you get a Ronald. The more Ronalds you find, the better your prize, but finding a Hamburglar means an immediate end to the game. Here’s my fun fact about the Hamburglar: his full name is Hamilton B. Urglar, a name that all but condemned him to a life of robbing burgers.
Next up is Lake Side World, where the tree stumps are alive and have grotesque faces that light up with joy whenever Ronald stands on them.
The other notable thing about Donald Land’s gameplay is that Ronald can stand on top of enemies. Jumping onto them doesn’t kill them in a Super Mario fashion, but it does mean you can (and sometimes have to) use them as platforms to get where you’re going. For instance, here’s Ronald riding a bird wearing an oversized hat and glasses. Is this a lesser-known McDonald’s advertising mascot? Saucy Beaks, the guardian of the ketchup packets? There you go, McDonald’s, you can have the one for free. Riding on Saucy Beaks isn’t mandatory, but otherwise I’d have to jump across the collapsing log bridge so I might as well make use of the bird while I can.
The weirdness level ramps up as this stage’s boss fight begins. It’s a tag team assault from a small red dinosaur and a young child in a cagoule that attacks by crying at Ronald. As a clown, you’d think he’d be immune to a child’s tears, but they will hurt him and the kid can’t be blown up with your bombs. Instead, you must focus your destructive capabilities on the dinosaur, who runs back and forth like a dog that thinks it just heard you say “walk.” It’s not hard to figure out where to place your bombs so the dinosaur runs into them as they explode.
The third stage is the Forest World, because forest worlds are mandatory in any 8-bit platformer. This one doesn’t differ too much from the usual style of these stages: leap from branch to branch, use insects as platforms, feel a pang of sadness at the levels of deforestation suffered by McDonaldland over the years.
For the boss, you’re faced with a huge fire-breathing mechanical dragon, which is a damned sight more imposing that birds and crying children. Getting hit by the fire is instant death, even, not the usual “lose a chunk of your health bar” you get when hit by every other projectile in the game. Fortunately the fire’s easy enough to jump over – the actual hitbox is way more generous than you’d think – so I managed to dodge the flames and throw a couple of bombs up the guy on top of the boss. I’d assumed they were controlling it, but they’re dead and the dragon just keeps on keepin’ on, spewing out fire and ignoring all the bombs I chucked at it. I’ll admit, I was completely stumped here and I had to go and look up what I was supposed to be doing. Turns out you’ve got to jump into the dragon’s mouth. I would not have thought to do that for a long, long time. It’s just so contrary to the general rules of videogame boss fights, not to mention basic common sense, and the game offers no indication that to progress you have to make what feels like the single dumbest move available.
So, I jumped into the dragon’s mouth. The small man inside, unwilling to test his luck against an obviously deranged clown with no fear of death, immediately raised the white flag and set the captive Birdie free. I commend him on his display of common sense.
This is Sky World, and it’s a bit crap. The hitherto perfectly acceptable run-n-jump platforming has been replaced by awkward-to-control floating in the airborne equivalent of an underwater stage. You have to hold the button to make Ronald float upwards, which he does with all the grace of a shopping trolley falling down a staircase. It’s jerky, it’s slow, it’s boring and Roland has no frames of animation while he’s floating. Overall, we’ve gone from “slightly above average” to “long, resigned sigh.” It’s not all bad, though: at least the enemies are interesting, particularly these flying bags of wind that propel themselves along by farting out a gust of air. They’ve got an expression of true madness on their face, which if sort of endearing. Less endearing is the face in the clouds themselves. They look like they’re up to something.
A dull stage only becomes more tedious once these fairies show up, because they attack by grabbing Ronald and refusing to let go, holding him in place while you mash the buttons. If Data East’s goal here was to make the regular platforming stages seem dynamic and exciting by comparison then they have succeeded, but then again leafing through a three-month-old copy of Heat in a dentist’s waiting room would feel dynamic and exciting compared to this.
The boss is another fire-breathing dragon, except this time not mechanical. I wonder if the woodland folk saw this dragon once and decided to copy it when making their own forest guardian? Look, I’ve got to do my own world-building here, it’s not like Donald Land is forthcoming with reasons why McDonaldland is a dangerous wasteland where everyone wants Ronald dead.
This is another easy boss battle, by the way. Throw bombs at the dragon’s head, hop over the fireballs, job done. Just don’t jump into its mouth and you’ll be fine.
If “Wonderwall” starts playing, I’m turning this game off.
Oasis World is a very vaguely “Arabic” themed stage, but it’s also full of Jawas so maybe it’s supposed to be Mos Eisley. I suppose you could sort of describe Mos Eisley as an oasis. Like, sure, it’s a wretched hive of scum and villainy, but if all you’ve got on the rest of your planet is sand, gangster space slugs, sand, giant fanged pits that eat people and more sand, you’ll take whatever you can get.
The boss is another dragon, this time a bone dragon that looks like it’s wandered in from a Castlevania game. This game’s got more dragons than the Dark Souls series at this point. This is where the bosses start putting up more of a fight, because apparently divesting yourself of your flesh increases your combat efficiency. It seems to make you faster, anyway, and this boss zips around the screen making it difficult to stick bombs to him unless you’ve really got a handle on how the arcs of Ronald’s bombs work.
The obligatory cave stage is next, and it’s probably the worst of all the regular platforming stages. It’s still much better than the flying stage, but it’s rather dull for the most part. It does feature these adorable skeletons that attack by hurling their skulls at Ronald, though, so that’s a plus. On the other hand, I have never wanted to walk through a door less than I do with that gaping clownstrosity over there.
As for a boss battle, well, you get to fight Grimace’s evil brother, the one they keep locked up in the attic and feed on left-over french fries and discarded paper tray liners. He’s understandably upset with Ronald, whom he views as the architect of his misery, and he won’t rest until Ronald is vanquished. Unfortunately for him, he bought claws to a bomb fight. He did try to tip the scales in his favour by wafting small red ghosts at Ronald, but as Ronald is not Pac-Man he has nothing to fear from small red ghosts.
Onward to stage… what stage are we on now? Six? Seven? I’ve lost count. Anyway, it’s called Pond World even though it’s clearly intended to be a swamp. Alligators tend to live in swamps not ponds, unless you really want to make sure your koi carp are protected from predatory herons.
Again, there’s little else to add about the gameplay in these stages, and the action doesn’t change much from stage one onwards, but I will say that Donald Land has a nicely balanced difficulty curve. It’s getting more challenging, but while many NES platformers would have been reaching punishing levels of difficulty by stage seven, Donald Land remains a rather more sedate affair and frankly that makes a nice change.
Plus you’ve got these fantastic cat enemies, cats that look like they were drawn by a seven-year-old and who have the ability to levitate small platforms. They’re great, and if there’s one area in which I can give Donald Land wholehearted praise it’s the enemy designs. There’s a big collection of freaks and weirdos on display, all of them drawn in a charmingly cutesy way but with just enough creepiness to them to keep them interesting, from the wonky cats to the Jawas and even the jack o’ lanterns that appear in a couple of stages.
The stage’s boss proves my point, I feel. Kinda cute, but not the kind of cute that you’d get in the Hello Kitty family or what have you. I like the way the plant-monster seems to be looking out of the screen, as if seeking an emotional connection with the player themselves. “I’m real sorry about this,” its expression seems to say, “but the vine sticking out of my head is actually a parasite that controls my every move. Please destroy me with your bombs, Ronald, and end my torment.”
This is Harbor World, where the crates are stacked high in preparation for their export to distant marketplaces, and there are yet more cats. You can stand on these cats and use them as springboards to leap to higher platforms. Should I have a “don’t try this at home” disclaimer here? It feels like I should have a disclaimer here. So, don’t use your cat as a springboard. Okay? Use a dog instead, they’re generally bigger and bouncier. How many of you will refuse to ever read this site again if I make a “springer spaniel” joke here?
The boss of the harbour is, of course, a pirate. Ronald throws bombs, the pirate throws bundles of dynamite, so it’s a battle between two well-matched opponents. That said, all the pirate does is walk back and forth along a predictable route while throwing his TNT. I get the impression he’d be doing that even if Ronald wasn’t trying to blow him up. He certainly didn’t seem to alter his behaviour any when I’d managed to stick a bomb to him. You’d think that if there was one thing that’d make you change your routine it’d be “getting attached to an explosive device,” but this pirate possesses a single-minded dedication.
After that fight Ronald must have hurled himself off the pier, because it’s an underwater stage. Yes, we’re back to the bumbling crapness last seen in the balloon stage, with Ronald’s underwater manoeuvrability approaching that of a housebrick with live rats taped to it. You bob along, slowly and inaccurately, avoiding the scenery and trying – but always, it seems, failing – to avoid the jellyfish that act like the fairies in the flying stage and cling onto Ronald in the hopes he’ll give up his quest out of sheer boredom.
Then Ronald was eaten by a shark. Of course he was. How was he supposed to out-swim a shark? Rather than trying to set a new free-diving record for clowns, Ronald should have stuck to his strengths, like selling burgers and performing controlled demolitions.
Here’s a big octopus that you have to fight. I’ll be honest, I don’t really remember this boss battle, which probably means it was exceptionally easy. The screenshot above certainly seems to back up that conclusion, as Ronald has walked right up to the octopus and gently placed a bomb right on its face.
The next stage – yes, Donald Land is still going strong – is the Ghost Town. The developers don’t appear to have decided whether this meant a Wild West ghost town or a town populated with ghosts, so the end result is somewhere in the middle. There are certainly a lot of wooden barrels piled up in the streets, something I would more readily associate with Tombstone than Transylvania. There may be a lot of stages in Donald Land, but at least they’re visually unique, and the game’s commitment to weird monsters continues. For example, look at the witch at the top of the screen. It’s just a big smirking head with a broomstick coming out of the back, it looks like something from Yume Nikki, and I absolutely love it.
At the end of the stage Ronald does battle with a pair of ghosts. The ghosts of amoebas, if their see-through nature is any guide, and they’re just as fond of tossing explosives around as Donald is. The ghosts have the advantage of being able to disappear and become immune to damage, so you end up with a boss fight that’s less a fight and more a guessing game. Because your bombs take a couple of seconds to explode, you don’t have time to react and throw one when the ghosts appear because it won’t explode before they disappear again. So, you guess where the ghosts are about to appear and throw the bombs before they phase back into out mortal realm. It’s less annoying than it sounds, because your bomb’s arc and generous hitbox mean they cover more of the screen than you might expect.
Normally you’d have to walk through to dark forest to get to the spooky town, but not in Donald Land, where the Dark Forest world follows on after the spectral tag-team. Once more it’s nice to look at but doesn’t do much to mix up the gameplay. Normally that’d be a bad thing, but given how poor Donald Land’s non-platforming stages were that’s probably a good thing. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” is a maxim that doesn’t really apply to videogames, but it’s working out okay here.
On a side note, this lady flopping around on the floor means that there are two completely separate enemies in Donald Land that attack by laying on the ground and crying. I’m not sure there are any interesting points you can take from this, other than the obvious one of “that’s a weird thing to keep making enemies out of.”
I had to show off this background of sinister leering pumpkins, because it’s very much my kind of thing and I hope you all appreciate it too.
You know, if you removed Ronald and the boss from this screenshot it could almost be a background from a Castlevania game. A Kid Dracula game, at any rate. As for the boss itself, what the hell is that thing? Donald Land has entirely done away with anything resembling a coherent theme, giving us a boss that’s nothing but a lump of pure rage, the mascot character for a range of migraine medication or possibly (and appropriately) a sentient chicken nugget that fell on the floor and became encrusted with dirt. Whatever it’s supposed to be, it fights exactly the same way as the pirate and as such its hash can easily be settled by bombs.
At long last, it’s the final stage. Ronald infiltrates the villain’s castle, hopping over super-deformed knights and equally misshapen skeletons, putting all the techniques he’s learned over the course of the game to use. The game play even gets a little bit of a shake-up here, because rather than being a linear path there are multiple routes through the castle that you can access by riding various elevators. The elevators have slightly creepy faces on them, because Donald Land is committed to its aesthetic.
After making my way through the castle, which didn’t take long because none of Donald Land’s stages are particularly expansive and the only thing that slowed me down was having to fight the two ghosts again, I reached a boss. Not the final boss, not even the penultimate boss, and definitely not an interesting boss, but I felt I should show it for the sake of completeness. It’s a hand with a tail that flies around dropping hands on you. It’s boring to look at and a pain in the arse to fight, because only the hand is vulnerable and said hand is small enough that trying to hit it quickly becomes frustration. Donald Land’s stages have time limits, and if they were any stricter than “so generous they might as well not exist” I probably would have run out of time here.
Almost immediately afterwards, Ronald must save the Hamburglar by… defeating the Hamburglar? Everyone’s favourite meat-based kleptomaniac is clearly a prisoner, trapped inside a picture frame and shouting “help,” but then he bursts out and tries to kill Ronald with his hat. It’s kinda weird. I guess Data East realised that the Hamburglar is the closest thing McDonaldland has to a villain so it’d be weird if you didn’t fight him, so lets say he’s either under the control of the evil clown who covets his amazing powers of flight and hat-throwing or this is a diabolical clone of the Hamburglar. Either way, any lingering fondness that Ronald may feel for the Hamburglar won’t stop him from sticking bombs to his head whenever the opportunity presents itself. Actually, the bombs will only affix themselves to the Hamburglar’s hat, and because he keeps taking it off to throw at you the fight becomes a matter of timing. I assume the rest of the Hamburglar’s body is simply too slick with burger grease for Ronald’s bombs to find purchase.
And now, the final boss, the evil clown himself. He’s proving my point that the scarier you try to make a clown look the less scary it becomes, and with its deformed body and wide shark-like grin the boss strikes and unusually comic figure for a clown. He’s only got one form of attack, too: he jumps from one side of the screen to the other throwing the occasional balloon at Ronald. Dodge the balloons, throw bombs at the clown, repeat until McDonaldland is once more under the stewardship of its one true clown dictator. This is pretty much exactly the final boss fight I expected, to be honest. At least the background, where the cracked brickwork resembles a glowing-eyed spectre, is neat.
There we are, then. Donald Land is Done-ald Land. To celebrate his victory, Ronald paints the word “HERO” on an oil drum and stands atop it in the middle of the village square, the self-aggrandizing prick.
While all the denizens of McDonaldland come out to pledge fealty to Ronald, I can look back on Donald Land and say “hey, this game wasn’t half bad.” The controls are a touch too slippery for it enter very top tier of 8-bit platformers, and the non-jumping stages don’t half drag things down, but overall it’s a very solid game with plenty of content and a wide variety of locations that at least look different even if the gameplay’s mostly one-note. There are some problems with infuriatingly grabby enemies and the occasional area where you seem to be able to screw yourself over if you accidentally kill an enemy that you need to use as a platform but on the whole I’d definitely recommend giving Donald Land a try if you’ve never played it and you fancy a change from the “classic” NES platformers. The big question is why Donald Land never saw a US release. It’s a well above average game and the small amount of in-game text is already in English, and on top of that it’s about McDonald’s. For better or worse, McDonald’s is one of the true icons of American culture, so it’s strange that the game never left Japan. Whatever the reasons, it’s a game with jankily-drawn cat monsters and haunted pumpkin forests, and as such it was well worth my time.
12/01/2017
DONALD LAND (FAMICOM)
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07/01/2017
SPIDER-MAN & VENOM: MAXIMUM CARNAGE (SNES)
Greetings, True Believers, and welcome to another article all about the fine art of punching crowds of interchangeable, palette-swapped goons! Yes, it’s time for another side-scrolling beat-em-up here at VGJunk, but this time the heroes aren’t ex-wrestlers turned politicians or ex-cops turned vigilantes, they’re household names in the field of comic book entertainment. Well, one of them is, anyway. I don’t think Venom’s that popular. Anyway, here is it: the SNES version of Software Creation’s 1994 action-is-his-reward-em-up Spider-Man and Venom: Maximum Carnage!
Logos present: Logos and Logos. Logos are a registered trademark of LogoCorp.
Carnage gets to surf in on his logo, because he’s just the kind of fresh, edgy character the nineties were crying out for. It’s The Sensational Spider-Man Symbiote Super Show! I’m sure you all know who Spider-Man is, but plenty of people wouldn’t recognise the other two. Well, Venom’s the large blue-black chap on the right. He’s bonded with an alien parasite that gives him very Spider-Man-like abilities. He’s also (mostly) evil, and spends a lot of time fighting Spider-Man. The red fellow at the top is Carnage. He’s also bonded with an alien parasite that gives him abilities, although his are less Spider-Man-like and more things like morphing his arms into giant axes. Carnage is very evil. They all fight each other a lot, which is sad because they have so much in common. Comics!
Specifically, Maximum Carnage is based on the 1993 Marvel Comics story arc of the same name. It tells the tale of Carnage’s human host, the wonderfully named Cletus Kasady, breaking out of prison and regaining his Carnage powers. He recruits some other villains into a bizarre “family” of sorts, and Spider-Man and Venom reluctantly team up to take Carnage down. The game’s story follows the comics pretty closely with some minor changes, to the extent that the cutscenes are digitised version of the comic’s panels. It’s an effect that works really well, actually. Putting comic panels in a comic book game seems like a no-brainer, and they’re very well rendered in extremely colourful pixel form.
Here, Carnage offers some sound advice about trust as he breaks out of prison, as well as stealing Arnie’s “you know when I said I’d kill you last?” bit from Commando. He also declares himself to be “the ultimate insanity,” which is a bit rich when the Marvel universe also includes a villain called Stilt-Man whose power is stilts.
On his way out of prison, Carnage meets the villainess Shriek and a bestial, multi-armed clone of Spider-Man called Doppleganger. Doppelganger is not to be confused with Man-Spider, a bestial, multi-armed mutation of the original Spider-Man. Again, comics! They’re pretty great.
As Spidey swings across the New York skyline, he comes close to having a realisation about his status as an eternal cash-cow for Marvel and now Disney. Spider-Man will never be allowed to rest. He’ll have his powers shuffled around, he’ll join different superhero teams and participate in various universe-altering mega-events, but Spider-Man will almost certainly still be appearing in comics and cartoons and movies long after you and I are dead. You know what? I’m happy with that. I like Spider-Man, and I’m looking forward to playing Maximum Carnage.
As I say, Maximum Carnage is a side-scrolling beat-em-up, and not the first one to star Spider-Man. There’s also his eponymous arcade game by Sega, which is worth checking out. But this is Maximum Carnage, and as he takes on the goons that litter the streets of New York, Spidey’s basic attacks conform to the usual template of the genre. Tapping attack produces a multi-hit combo that knocks down your opponent at the end. You can do a jumping kick, and pressing attack and jump produces a spinning desperation move that costs Spidey a bit of health. You know, the usual. If you’ve played any side-scrolling beat-em-up, you’ll be able to pick up Maximum Carnage’s gameplay immediately.
There’s even an explanation as to why all these people are trying to kill our friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man: in the comic, at least, Shriek uses her powers to turn ordinary people into bloodthirsty killers. Maybe that’s why the developers chose to adapt Maximum Carnage rather than another part of the comics, because it gives Spider-Man a large number of generic, unimportant peons to beat up in between fighting super-villains.
Extra, extra! Read all about it! Spider-Man smashes teen’s skull with bundle of newspapers!
There are no weapons, as such – Spidey’s not one for clobbering people with a steel pipe – and you recover lost health via generic heart icons rather than turkeys hidden under bins, but there are some objects you can pick up and throw littering the stages.
After pummelling a few blokes in trenchcoats and kids in unflattering shorts, Spider-Man faces off with the game’s first boss: a pair of agile fitness fanatics called Lizzie and Dana. When I played Maximum Carnage as a kid (and I did, although I never got very far) for some reason I always saw this pair as wearing rollerblades and safety helmets. I don’t know why I saw it that way when it’s clearly not the case. Maybe I just wanted to see Spider-Man fighting enemies with some gimmick to them. There’s nothing heroic about beating up two joggers, even if they are wearing berets and could therefore be mistaken for a dangerous paramilitary exercise group. Oh, and they can attack Spidey by whipping him with their hair. So much for having the proportional strength of a spider. Actually, yeah, what’s going on there? I should be knocking these random citizens out with a single punch. Where are all my spider-powers?!
Oh, there they are. That’s right, you didn’t think this Spider-Man game would be lacking in web-slinging, did you? There are quite a lot of moves to chose from, too. The X button handles web-swinging, which is useful for avoiding enemy attacks and re-positioning Spidey - a vital skill, because even by the standards of the genre the enemies in Maximum Carnage like to surround you on all sides. The A button is where the more combat-focussed abilities lie. Holding A produces a web shield that can block most attacks, which would be much more useful if it didn’t take a few seconds to appear, seconds in which you’ve almost certainly been whacked by whatever you were trying to avoid. You can also tap the button to fire a web pellet that momentarily traps any enemy it hits, or hold left or right and press A to fire a strand, grab a bad guy and drag them towards you so they can feel the bright red fists of justice. The grab is very handy, and if there’s an enemy on either side out you you’ll even fire two strands and pull your opponents head-first into each other like a spandex-wearing Three Stooges bit.
The web is integrated rather well, all told, and it serves two important functions. One is that it makes you feel like you’re playing as Spider-Man himself and not just some dork in a cheap Halloween costume, and the other is that it adds some variety to the combat. As much as I love beat-em-ups, the usual punch-grab-jumping-kick system can get a little stale, and it’s not surprising that my favourites in the genre, like Night Slashers and Alien vs. Predator, are the ones that add moves to expand on this basic formula. I’m not saying Maximum Carnage is going to be as good as those games, but it’s moving in the right direction.
Once you’ve cleared the first area, the gameplay takes a turn for the insipid as you make Spidey crawl his way up the side of a building while someone pours wet noodles on him from above. It’s not awful, I guess. You have to swing from building to building, and the pleasure of swinging from a thread you find in almost every Spider-Man game is still intact… but the crawling is slow and the projectiles have the annoying habit of knocking you back down a level. I know you have to have some degree of wall-crawling in a Spider-Man game, but this is definitely less interesting and less fun than the fighting.
Once you reach the rooftop, you’re thrown into a fight with Shriek and Doppelganger. I hope you enjoy this fight, because you’re going to be doing it a lot over the course of Maximum Carnage.
They key to victory, appropriately enough for a Spider-Man game, is agility. Shriek can fire large energy projectiles and Doppelganger tends to go for the combat hug if you get too close, so staying on the move and trying to get behind them is the best way to go.
Where was Carnage while all this was happening? Why, he was trying to get J. Jonah Jameson into a romantic mood by posing seductively on his desk. Sorry, did I say “seductively”? I meant “uncomfortably.” It’s a good job the symbiote gives Carnage super-strength, because otherwise it’d be impossible to maintain that “resting on your tiptoes and elbows with your knees behind your ears” pose for more than a few seconds and who knows how long Carnage has been waiting there for Jameson to show up? JJJ’s a busy man, Carnage could have been there for hours.
After that erotically-charged interlude, it’s back to the streets and back to the fighting. "Spider-Man wades through a legion of identikit goons" unsurprisingly makes up the bulk of the gameplay, so it’s a good job that’s it’s definitely an above-average brawler experience. As mentioned, Spidey’s superpowers help him to stand out from the crowd, the controls mostly work well and the emphasis on moving around fits the character. My biggest problem with the gameplay is that the goons take too long to defeat, with health bars that feel like they’re been chipped away at rather than being smashed with Spidey’s super-strength. I know they’re set up this way to provide more challenge and (presumably) to limit the number of sprites on-screen at any given time, but it has the effect of making Spider-Man feel like a weakling, which is not what you want in your superhero game. He should be able to take out these rank-and-file timewasters with a couple of punches, and the action (and the feeling of being Spider-Man) would be greatly enhanced if there were more enemies with smaller health bars and a wider diversity of attack patterns.
I did figure out Spider-Man’s best move at this point, however. If you pick an enemy up, you can tap A and B to spin them around on your finger like a basketball before chucking them onto the concrete. Is it practical? No, it absolutely is not. It adds little extra damage and gives other enemies a free shot while Spidey’s auditioning for the Harlem Globetrotters. Did I use it a lot? Yes. Well, at the start of the game I did. By the end I was too tired of being bogged down by goons that I stopped using it.
After being rescued from what felt like very mild peril by the superhero duo Cloak and Dagger, Spider-Man finds himself once more doing battle with Shriek and Doppelganger. Most beat-em-ups save this kind of lazy recycling until the latter half of the game, when the palette-swaps and boss rushes come out to play, but Maximum Carnage gets straight to it. I’d understand if this was supposed to be building rivalry, locking you in battle with an inescapable foe who becomes your nemesis, but for that to be the case the fights should change, the stakes raising, instead of being the exact same fight every bloody time.
Venom finds out that Carnage is back, and he’s not pleased about it. Then again, Venom is rarely pleased about anything, unless he’s beating up Spider-Man. It’s a strange dynamic, because from what I remember Carnage is sort of Venom’s son, in that he was formed from an offshoot of Venom’s symbiote. That means it’s time for some parental discipline, and from this point on Maximum Carnage lets you choose between playing as Spider-Man or Venom at certain points. Not only do you get two characters to pick from, but each character has some unique stages.
For instance, if you select Spider-Man you’re placed in a web-swinging chase against the villainous Demogoblin, he of the flapping cape and the fiery hoverboard that is way cooler than Green Goblin’s hoverboard. What is it about Spider-Man and goblins, anyway? He fights the Green Goblin, he fights the Grey Goblin, he fights the Hobgoblin, he fights Demogoblin. Are goblins the natural predators of spiders in the wild or something? Did whatever costumier that supplies all the supervillain in New York accidentally add a digit when ordering goblin costumes? Is it because “goblin” is such a damn fun word to say out loud?
Picking Venom, on the other hand, sees you fighting your way through the streets of San Francisco. As all the action is happening on New York and San Francisco is on the west coast, one must assume that Venom is walking across the entire North American continent, beating up anyone who crosses his path.
In terms of his moveset, Venom is almost identical to Spider-Man. He can web-swing and web-grab and all that, although he uses the symbiote rather than firing webbing. His regular moves look different, but it’s purely a cosmetic change. He’s a little slower and a touch more powerful than Spider-Man, but that’s not why you should play as Venom. No, you should play as Venom because his life-sapping special move is a spinning clothesline, and what could be a more appropriate move for a side-scrolling beat-em-up than that? No word on whether Venom is an ex-pro wrestler, but now that he’s a character in an arcade-style brawler there about a fifty percent chance that yes, he used to be a pro wrestler.
At the end of this stage, Venom was accosted by two balding middle-aged men who tried to kill him by using their umbrellas like fencing swords. I sincerely hope this pair appeared in the original comic, having fallen under Shriek's evil influence. Otherwise, it means that the developers needed a boss for this stage but rather than using one of Spider-Man’s hundreds of foes they went with a deranged bank manager and his almost-identical bank manager friend.
More fighting ensues in a place called The Deep. This threw me off a little, because the only place called The Deep that I’m familiar with is the large aquarium in Hull. It’s not an aquarium, though. I think it’s supposed to be a nightclub. Yes, I wanted to see Venom fight a manta ray too, but we don’t always get what we want.
Now that’s a well-staged screenshot, although it would be better if Doppelganger wasn’t lurking around in the background. It does show that when all the pieces fall into place, Maximum Carnage does a really good job of capturing the look of a comic book. Like, that could be a panel in an issue of Spider-Man, if Doppelganger wasn’t there staring intently at Venom’s leg.
So yeah, I’m fighting Doppelganger again, only this time he’s been joined by Demogoblin. That’s how most of the boss fights in Maximum Carnage work: you’re fighting the same bosses over and over again, with the occasional new villain being added to the mix as you encounter them until you’re punching Doppelganger’s lights in for the umpteenth time only for Demogoblin to jump in as soon as you finish him off, again. It is not a particularly enjoyable set-up. The villains don’t learn new moves or try new techniques as the game progresses, so it’s just boring and repetitive. One proper, more fleshed out fight against each villain would have gone a long way towards making Maximum Carnage a better game.
Having remembered that Carnage’s symbiote is vulnerable to sonic attacks, Spider-Man and Venom realise that getting hold of a sonic gun would probably be a good idea. Their back-up plan is to house Carnage in my back bedroom, because the next-door neighbours have got the builders in and the constant, excruciating squealing of power drills could bring the most powerful villain to their knees, aural weakness or not. Hopefully it won’t come to that, because they know where a sonic gun can be found: in the Baxter Building, home of the Fantastic Four. Sadly the Fantastic Four aren’t home right now, so Spidey and Venom break in.
This activates the Baxter Building’s security system, which is mostly composed of deadly flying Christmas baubles. It’s like a festive version of Phantasm in here! This course of action raises some questions, most pertinently “why didn’t Spider-Man get in touch with the Fantastic Four?” They’re buddies, are you telling me Reed Richards hasn’t invented some kind of communication device that we could have called before resorting to burglary? The other question is “where are the Fantastic Four?” My guess would be that they’re in Hollywood, begging Fox Studios to stop making movies about them.
Venom seems remarkably calm about his mortal nemesis Spider-Man pointing a sonic gun at him, both of them knowing that Venom is just as vulnerable to sonic attack as Carnage is. Maybe they’ve finally managed to establish a little trust. Wouldn’t that be nice?
Another boss fight and another villain enters the fray. This time it’s Carrion, who isn’t a goblin despite looking more like a goblin than all the other Goblin characters. His power is that he can decay organic matter with his touch, which manifests in the game as Carrion flying around, trying to grab your hero’s head like a new-age type who’s just learned about Indian head massage. Carrion can be a real pain in the arse to deal with – not only is he flying, meaning you can’t get him with a proper combo and have to rely on jumping kicks, but he can also teleport out of the way of your attacks. It’s a combination of abilities that lead to me shouting a hearty “oh good, it’s this prick again,” every time he showed up. The only consistent way I found to damage Carrion is to jump straight up and kick. He’ll teleport away from it, but if you jump straight up and kick immediately afterwards his vanishing act hasn’t had time to recharge or what-have-you and you can land a single blow, scraping a sliver from his health bar. It’s about as exciting as it sounds.
I could stand here ineffectually jump-kicking at Carrion like a chump, but I’ve got a better idea: I’ll call for some help. Most stages have tokens tucked away that you can collect, and when you use a token the superhero they depict appears on screen to help you out. In this case I’ve summoned Firestar, a mutant with the power to control microwave energy but not the power to operate a comb. She torches everything in her path, which is very useful, and most of your other super-friends do a similar thing. There are plenty of them, too, from Black Cat to Morbius the Living Vampire to Captain America himself. They even perform a different attack depending on whether it was Spider-Man or Venom that summoned them, and I appreciate the amount of effort that went into adding them all in. I think my favourite is Iron Fist, because when Spider-Man calls him in he gives you all your health back. Maximum Carnage gets pretty darned tough towards the end, so having what’s essentially a kung-fu medikit on hand is extremely useful.
Speaking of Captain America, he briefly pops into the story in order to save Spider-Man. Okay, not “save.” He pops in to pick Spider-Man out of the dirt after Venom’s given him a kicking, that’s a more accurate description for what’s happening here.
Close inspection of Captain America’s face reveals that he’s one hundred percent done with this symbiote bullshit and he’d rather be absolutely anywhere else.
Where to next? Oh right, Spider-Man goes to a police station and beats up a load of policemen for no real reason that I could see. I’m sure the comics explain why Spidey’s decided to recreate the police station scene from Terminator, but for now I’ll assume that these cops are all under Shriek’s evil influence. Either way, if I was Spider-Man I’d do my best to make sure this little escapade doesn’t become public. He doesn’t want to be giving J. Jonah Jameson any more ammunition, that’s for sure.
After a few more scenes of regulation goon-punching, enlivened only by some of said goons now having access to easily-avoidable firearms, it’s back to the grind of Maximum Carnage’s one never-ending boss fight. The gang's all here now, so you have to fight Shriek and Doppelganger, then Carrion and Demogoblin. Hey, Captain America, get in here and help me!
That’s the combat stance you’re going with, is it, Steve? The Michael Jackson crotch-grab? Well, a hearty chamone to you, my star-spangled friend. You’ve beaten Demogoblin into a coma, and that’s the greatest gift I could ask for. Apart from liberty and freedom, obviously.
Then Carnage shows up to throw his metaphorical oar in. The Ultimate Insanity himself fights like a combination of Dhalsim from Street Fighter and an explosion in a cutlery factory: all extending limbs and fleshy bits that become pointy bits. The best tactic seems to be to stay behind Carnage wherever possible and only attack him when he’s recovering from turning his appendages into fishslices or whatever. In this way, you can gradually chip away at Carnage until he’s defeated and Maximum Carnage is over.
Except it clearly isn’t over. Sure, Spider-Man and Venom stand around having a tête-à -tête about who should have had the honour of sending Carnage to the big insane asylum in the sky, but the ending text read “The End...” and that ellipsis means there’s definitely more to come. I don’t care that the credits have started rolling – and they genuinely do, over this shot of our heroes arguing in a park – that last fight was way too easy.
There we go. Nice attempt at a fake-out – the credits were a good touch – but I saw this one coming. I didn’t predict that Carnage would slowly rise out of the lake in the background, mind you. That was definitely unexpected, and only slightly ridiculous to look at.
At first, the prospect of fighting Carnage again wasn’t a particularly worrying one. I’d already clobbered he a few times by now, so why should this be any different? I’ll simply slap him around a little, drain his health bar and be back to wisecracking and selling pictures of myself to the newspaper in no time. Sadly, this was not to be. Carnage, having realised that he’s now the Final Boss, has considerably stepped up his game and has consequently become a right pain in the ballbag to fight against. For starters, he’s got about five times as much health. That wouldn’t make the fight harder, though, just longer and more tedious. No, the real problem is his new moveset. He attacks faster and harder, and he spends roughly eighty percent of his time doing the move where he turns his arms into giant axes and runs forward windmilling them around. As you can see above, he occupies two-thirds of the goddamn screen when he does this. You’ll take loads of damage if you go near him while he’s spinning his arms, and it seems to last for ages, hitting you even when his animation implies he’s stopped doing it. Patience and well-timed jumping kicks saw me through in the end, though, so now I really have finished Maximum Carnage.
Oh, wait, never mind. We’re still doing this. Are we? Really? All right, fine, we’ve got to be near the end now. The location has changed and Carnage has all his health back, but apart from that it’s the exact same fight, and it’s not any more entertaining on a second playthrough.
The interesting thing about these last two fights is that you can switch between Spider-Man and Venom whenever you want, and they’ve each got their own health bars and supply of lives. They also get a brief moment of invincibility when they’re tagged in, and abusing this invincibility is the only way I managed to beat Carnage for a second time. It was slow, it was boring and it was very much not in the spirit of the superhero comics that spawned it, but it was definitely preferable to being killed over and over again.
As Spider-Man mixes up his famous comic-book villains, yes: Spider-Man and Venom: Maximum Carnage really is over, for realsies. It got to be a bit of a slog towards the end, but overall it’s actually rather enjoyable. In patches, anyway. It’s one of those games that’s a bit like looking at any given website’s “Top 100 X Ever” list, where some parts makes sense and others leave you baffled by their inclusion. The core combat is fine. Better than fine, even, with Spider-Man having an expansive array of moves and an appropriately nimble fighting style. It’d be better if it was easier to block, maybe by moving the button to scroll through your superhero helpers from L to Select and thus freeing up L to be a dedicated block button, but apart from that it’s fast-paced and mostly satisfying… but then the boss battles drag everything down by either being the same villains over and over (just as Spider-Man was bemoaning in the intro), or being small groups of uninspiring minions.
Aesthetically it’s a mixed bag, too. The cutscenes’ reworked comic art looks great a lot of the time, and the animations and particularly the playable characters’ sprites are really nice, but then they’re let down by some extremely dull designs on the generic enemies and the odd wonky-looking super-friend, like Captain America adjusting the lil’ Captain while he throws his shield. The same is true of the audio: most sound effects are fine but a couple seem out-of-place, and the music (composed by self-proclaimed “Worst Band Ever” Green Jelly) is technically not bad, but for some reason I never really took to it. An issue of personal taste, no doubt, and I’m sure there are people out there who really like Maximum Carnage’s soundtrack. It’s a good showcase of the kind of electric guitar sounds the SNES could replicate, that’s for sure. It’s also interesting to see that some famous names from the home computer scene were involved, notably the Pickford brothers and Alien Breed composer Allister Brimble.
Overall, I’m coming down in favour of Maximum Carnage. It’s not perfect, but the good bits are good enough that they outweigh the bad. Am I biased because I like Spider-Man so much? Possibly, but we can all appreciate the pleasure of punching a villain and seeing cartoon onomatopoeia pop out.
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Carnage gets to surf in on his logo, because he’s just the kind of fresh, edgy character the nineties were crying out for. It’s The Sensational Spider-Man Symbiote Super Show! I’m sure you all know who Spider-Man is, but plenty of people wouldn’t recognise the other two. Well, Venom’s the large blue-black chap on the right. He’s bonded with an alien parasite that gives him very Spider-Man-like abilities. He’s also (mostly) evil, and spends a lot of time fighting Spider-Man. The red fellow at the top is Carnage. He’s also bonded with an alien parasite that gives him abilities, although his are less Spider-Man-like and more things like morphing his arms into giant axes. Carnage is very evil. They all fight each other a lot, which is sad because they have so much in common. Comics!
Specifically, Maximum Carnage is based on the 1993 Marvel Comics story arc of the same name. It tells the tale of Carnage’s human host, the wonderfully named Cletus Kasady, breaking out of prison and regaining his Carnage powers. He recruits some other villains into a bizarre “family” of sorts, and Spider-Man and Venom reluctantly team up to take Carnage down. The game’s story follows the comics pretty closely with some minor changes, to the extent that the cutscenes are digitised version of the comic’s panels. It’s an effect that works really well, actually. Putting comic panels in a comic book game seems like a no-brainer, and they’re very well rendered in extremely colourful pixel form.
Here, Carnage offers some sound advice about trust as he breaks out of prison, as well as stealing Arnie’s “you know when I said I’d kill you last?” bit from Commando. He also declares himself to be “the ultimate insanity,” which is a bit rich when the Marvel universe also includes a villain called Stilt-Man whose power is stilts.
On his way out of prison, Carnage meets the villainess Shriek and a bestial, multi-armed clone of Spider-Man called Doppleganger. Doppelganger is not to be confused with Man-Spider, a bestial, multi-armed mutation of the original Spider-Man. Again, comics! They’re pretty great.
As Spidey swings across the New York skyline, he comes close to having a realisation about his status as an eternal cash-cow for Marvel and now Disney. Spider-Man will never be allowed to rest. He’ll have his powers shuffled around, he’ll join different superhero teams and participate in various universe-altering mega-events, but Spider-Man will almost certainly still be appearing in comics and cartoons and movies long after you and I are dead. You know what? I’m happy with that. I like Spider-Man, and I’m looking forward to playing Maximum Carnage.
As I say, Maximum Carnage is a side-scrolling beat-em-up, and not the first one to star Spider-Man. There’s also his eponymous arcade game by Sega, which is worth checking out. But this is Maximum Carnage, and as he takes on the goons that litter the streets of New York, Spidey’s basic attacks conform to the usual template of the genre. Tapping attack produces a multi-hit combo that knocks down your opponent at the end. You can do a jumping kick, and pressing attack and jump produces a spinning desperation move that costs Spidey a bit of health. You know, the usual. If you’ve played any side-scrolling beat-em-up, you’ll be able to pick up Maximum Carnage’s gameplay immediately.
There’s even an explanation as to why all these people are trying to kill our friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man: in the comic, at least, Shriek uses her powers to turn ordinary people into bloodthirsty killers. Maybe that’s why the developers chose to adapt Maximum Carnage rather than another part of the comics, because it gives Spider-Man a large number of generic, unimportant peons to beat up in between fighting super-villains.
Extra, extra! Read all about it! Spider-Man smashes teen’s skull with bundle of newspapers!
There are no weapons, as such – Spidey’s not one for clobbering people with a steel pipe – and you recover lost health via generic heart icons rather than turkeys hidden under bins, but there are some objects you can pick up and throw littering the stages.
After pummelling a few blokes in trenchcoats and kids in unflattering shorts, Spider-Man faces off with the game’s first boss: a pair of agile fitness fanatics called Lizzie and Dana. When I played Maximum Carnage as a kid (and I did, although I never got very far) for some reason I always saw this pair as wearing rollerblades and safety helmets. I don’t know why I saw it that way when it’s clearly not the case. Maybe I just wanted to see Spider-Man fighting enemies with some gimmick to them. There’s nothing heroic about beating up two joggers, even if they are wearing berets and could therefore be mistaken for a dangerous paramilitary exercise group. Oh, and they can attack Spidey by whipping him with their hair. So much for having the proportional strength of a spider. Actually, yeah, what’s going on there? I should be knocking these random citizens out with a single punch. Where are all my spider-powers?!
Oh, there they are. That’s right, you didn’t think this Spider-Man game would be lacking in web-slinging, did you? There are quite a lot of moves to chose from, too. The X button handles web-swinging, which is useful for avoiding enemy attacks and re-positioning Spidey - a vital skill, because even by the standards of the genre the enemies in Maximum Carnage like to surround you on all sides. The A button is where the more combat-focussed abilities lie. Holding A produces a web shield that can block most attacks, which would be much more useful if it didn’t take a few seconds to appear, seconds in which you’ve almost certainly been whacked by whatever you were trying to avoid. You can also tap the button to fire a web pellet that momentarily traps any enemy it hits, or hold left or right and press A to fire a strand, grab a bad guy and drag them towards you so they can feel the bright red fists of justice. The grab is very handy, and if there’s an enemy on either side out you you’ll even fire two strands and pull your opponents head-first into each other like a spandex-wearing Three Stooges bit.
The web is integrated rather well, all told, and it serves two important functions. One is that it makes you feel like you’re playing as Spider-Man himself and not just some dork in a cheap Halloween costume, and the other is that it adds some variety to the combat. As much as I love beat-em-ups, the usual punch-grab-jumping-kick system can get a little stale, and it’s not surprising that my favourites in the genre, like Night Slashers and Alien vs. Predator, are the ones that add moves to expand on this basic formula. I’m not saying Maximum Carnage is going to be as good as those games, but it’s moving in the right direction.
Once you’ve cleared the first area, the gameplay takes a turn for the insipid as you make Spidey crawl his way up the side of a building while someone pours wet noodles on him from above. It’s not awful, I guess. You have to swing from building to building, and the pleasure of swinging from a thread you find in almost every Spider-Man game is still intact… but the crawling is slow and the projectiles have the annoying habit of knocking you back down a level. I know you have to have some degree of wall-crawling in a Spider-Man game, but this is definitely less interesting and less fun than the fighting.
Once you reach the rooftop, you’re thrown into a fight with Shriek and Doppelganger. I hope you enjoy this fight, because you’re going to be doing it a lot over the course of Maximum Carnage.
They key to victory, appropriately enough for a Spider-Man game, is agility. Shriek can fire large energy projectiles and Doppelganger tends to go for the combat hug if you get too close, so staying on the move and trying to get behind them is the best way to go.
Where was Carnage while all this was happening? Why, he was trying to get J. Jonah Jameson into a romantic mood by posing seductively on his desk. Sorry, did I say “seductively”? I meant “uncomfortably.” It’s a good job the symbiote gives Carnage super-strength, because otherwise it’d be impossible to maintain that “resting on your tiptoes and elbows with your knees behind your ears” pose for more than a few seconds and who knows how long Carnage has been waiting there for Jameson to show up? JJJ’s a busy man, Carnage could have been there for hours.
After that erotically-charged interlude, it’s back to the streets and back to the fighting. "Spider-Man wades through a legion of identikit goons" unsurprisingly makes up the bulk of the gameplay, so it’s a good job that’s it’s definitely an above-average brawler experience. As mentioned, Spidey’s superpowers help him to stand out from the crowd, the controls mostly work well and the emphasis on moving around fits the character. My biggest problem with the gameplay is that the goons take too long to defeat, with health bars that feel like they’re been chipped away at rather than being smashed with Spidey’s super-strength. I know they’re set up this way to provide more challenge and (presumably) to limit the number of sprites on-screen at any given time, but it has the effect of making Spider-Man feel like a weakling, which is not what you want in your superhero game. He should be able to take out these rank-and-file timewasters with a couple of punches, and the action (and the feeling of being Spider-Man) would be greatly enhanced if there were more enemies with smaller health bars and a wider diversity of attack patterns.
I did figure out Spider-Man’s best move at this point, however. If you pick an enemy up, you can tap A and B to spin them around on your finger like a basketball before chucking them onto the concrete. Is it practical? No, it absolutely is not. It adds little extra damage and gives other enemies a free shot while Spidey’s auditioning for the Harlem Globetrotters. Did I use it a lot? Yes. Well, at the start of the game I did. By the end I was too tired of being bogged down by goons that I stopped using it.
After being rescued from what felt like very mild peril by the superhero duo Cloak and Dagger, Spider-Man finds himself once more doing battle with Shriek and Doppelganger. Most beat-em-ups save this kind of lazy recycling until the latter half of the game, when the palette-swaps and boss rushes come out to play, but Maximum Carnage gets straight to it. I’d understand if this was supposed to be building rivalry, locking you in battle with an inescapable foe who becomes your nemesis, but for that to be the case the fights should change, the stakes raising, instead of being the exact same fight every bloody time.
Venom finds out that Carnage is back, and he’s not pleased about it. Then again, Venom is rarely pleased about anything, unless he’s beating up Spider-Man. It’s a strange dynamic, because from what I remember Carnage is sort of Venom’s son, in that he was formed from an offshoot of Venom’s symbiote. That means it’s time for some parental discipline, and from this point on Maximum Carnage lets you choose between playing as Spider-Man or Venom at certain points. Not only do you get two characters to pick from, but each character has some unique stages.
For instance, if you select Spider-Man you’re placed in a web-swinging chase against the villainous Demogoblin, he of the flapping cape and the fiery hoverboard that is way cooler than Green Goblin’s hoverboard. What is it about Spider-Man and goblins, anyway? He fights the Green Goblin, he fights the Grey Goblin, he fights the Hobgoblin, he fights Demogoblin. Are goblins the natural predators of spiders in the wild or something? Did whatever costumier that supplies all the supervillain in New York accidentally add a digit when ordering goblin costumes? Is it because “goblin” is such a damn fun word to say out loud?
Picking Venom, on the other hand, sees you fighting your way through the streets of San Francisco. As all the action is happening on New York and San Francisco is on the west coast, one must assume that Venom is walking across the entire North American continent, beating up anyone who crosses his path.
In terms of his moveset, Venom is almost identical to Spider-Man. He can web-swing and web-grab and all that, although he uses the symbiote rather than firing webbing. His regular moves look different, but it’s purely a cosmetic change. He’s a little slower and a touch more powerful than Spider-Man, but that’s not why you should play as Venom. No, you should play as Venom because his life-sapping special move is a spinning clothesline, and what could be a more appropriate move for a side-scrolling beat-em-up than that? No word on whether Venom is an ex-pro wrestler, but now that he’s a character in an arcade-style brawler there about a fifty percent chance that yes, he used to be a pro wrestler.
At the end of this stage, Venom was accosted by two balding middle-aged men who tried to kill him by using their umbrellas like fencing swords. I sincerely hope this pair appeared in the original comic, having fallen under Shriek's evil influence. Otherwise, it means that the developers needed a boss for this stage but rather than using one of Spider-Man’s hundreds of foes they went with a deranged bank manager and his almost-identical bank manager friend.
More fighting ensues in a place called The Deep. This threw me off a little, because the only place called The Deep that I’m familiar with is the large aquarium in Hull. It’s not an aquarium, though. I think it’s supposed to be a nightclub. Yes, I wanted to see Venom fight a manta ray too, but we don’t always get what we want.
Now that’s a well-staged screenshot, although it would be better if Doppelganger wasn’t lurking around in the background. It does show that when all the pieces fall into place, Maximum Carnage does a really good job of capturing the look of a comic book. Like, that could be a panel in an issue of Spider-Man, if Doppelganger wasn’t there staring intently at Venom’s leg.
So yeah, I’m fighting Doppelganger again, only this time he’s been joined by Demogoblin. That’s how most of the boss fights in Maximum Carnage work: you’re fighting the same bosses over and over again, with the occasional new villain being added to the mix as you encounter them until you’re punching Doppelganger’s lights in for the umpteenth time only for Demogoblin to jump in as soon as you finish him off, again. It is not a particularly enjoyable set-up. The villains don’t learn new moves or try new techniques as the game progresses, so it’s just boring and repetitive. One proper, more fleshed out fight against each villain would have gone a long way towards making Maximum Carnage a better game.
Having remembered that Carnage’s symbiote is vulnerable to sonic attacks, Spider-Man and Venom realise that getting hold of a sonic gun would probably be a good idea. Their back-up plan is to house Carnage in my back bedroom, because the next-door neighbours have got the builders in and the constant, excruciating squealing of power drills could bring the most powerful villain to their knees, aural weakness or not. Hopefully it won’t come to that, because they know where a sonic gun can be found: in the Baxter Building, home of the Fantastic Four. Sadly the Fantastic Four aren’t home right now, so Spidey and Venom break in.
This activates the Baxter Building’s security system, which is mostly composed of deadly flying Christmas baubles. It’s like a festive version of Phantasm in here! This course of action raises some questions, most pertinently “why didn’t Spider-Man get in touch with the Fantastic Four?” They’re buddies, are you telling me Reed Richards hasn’t invented some kind of communication device that we could have called before resorting to burglary? The other question is “where are the Fantastic Four?” My guess would be that they’re in Hollywood, begging Fox Studios to stop making movies about them.
Venom seems remarkably calm about his mortal nemesis Spider-Man pointing a sonic gun at him, both of them knowing that Venom is just as vulnerable to sonic attack as Carnage is. Maybe they’ve finally managed to establish a little trust. Wouldn’t that be nice?
Another boss fight and another villain enters the fray. This time it’s Carrion, who isn’t a goblin despite looking more like a goblin than all the other Goblin characters. His power is that he can decay organic matter with his touch, which manifests in the game as Carrion flying around, trying to grab your hero’s head like a new-age type who’s just learned about Indian head massage. Carrion can be a real pain in the arse to deal with – not only is he flying, meaning you can’t get him with a proper combo and have to rely on jumping kicks, but he can also teleport out of the way of your attacks. It’s a combination of abilities that lead to me shouting a hearty “oh good, it’s this prick again,” every time he showed up. The only consistent way I found to damage Carrion is to jump straight up and kick. He’ll teleport away from it, but if you jump straight up and kick immediately afterwards his vanishing act hasn’t had time to recharge or what-have-you and you can land a single blow, scraping a sliver from his health bar. It’s about as exciting as it sounds.
I could stand here ineffectually jump-kicking at Carrion like a chump, but I’ve got a better idea: I’ll call for some help. Most stages have tokens tucked away that you can collect, and when you use a token the superhero they depict appears on screen to help you out. In this case I’ve summoned Firestar, a mutant with the power to control microwave energy but not the power to operate a comb. She torches everything in her path, which is very useful, and most of your other super-friends do a similar thing. There are plenty of them, too, from Black Cat to Morbius the Living Vampire to Captain America himself. They even perform a different attack depending on whether it was Spider-Man or Venom that summoned them, and I appreciate the amount of effort that went into adding them all in. I think my favourite is Iron Fist, because when Spider-Man calls him in he gives you all your health back. Maximum Carnage gets pretty darned tough towards the end, so having what’s essentially a kung-fu medikit on hand is extremely useful.
Speaking of Captain America, he briefly pops into the story in order to save Spider-Man. Okay, not “save.” He pops in to pick Spider-Man out of the dirt after Venom’s given him a kicking, that’s a more accurate description for what’s happening here.
Close inspection of Captain America’s face reveals that he’s one hundred percent done with this symbiote bullshit and he’d rather be absolutely anywhere else.
Where to next? Oh right, Spider-Man goes to a police station and beats up a load of policemen for no real reason that I could see. I’m sure the comics explain why Spidey’s decided to recreate the police station scene from Terminator, but for now I’ll assume that these cops are all under Shriek’s evil influence. Either way, if I was Spider-Man I’d do my best to make sure this little escapade doesn’t become public. He doesn’t want to be giving J. Jonah Jameson any more ammunition, that’s for sure.
After a few more scenes of regulation goon-punching, enlivened only by some of said goons now having access to easily-avoidable firearms, it’s back to the grind of Maximum Carnage’s one never-ending boss fight. The gang's all here now, so you have to fight Shriek and Doppelganger, then Carrion and Demogoblin. Hey, Captain America, get in here and help me!
That’s the combat stance you’re going with, is it, Steve? The Michael Jackson crotch-grab? Well, a hearty chamone to you, my star-spangled friend. You’ve beaten Demogoblin into a coma, and that’s the greatest gift I could ask for. Apart from liberty and freedom, obviously.
Then Carnage shows up to throw his metaphorical oar in. The Ultimate Insanity himself fights like a combination of Dhalsim from Street Fighter and an explosion in a cutlery factory: all extending limbs and fleshy bits that become pointy bits. The best tactic seems to be to stay behind Carnage wherever possible and only attack him when he’s recovering from turning his appendages into fishslices or whatever. In this way, you can gradually chip away at Carnage until he’s defeated and Maximum Carnage is over.
Except it clearly isn’t over. Sure, Spider-Man and Venom stand around having a tête-à -tête about who should have had the honour of sending Carnage to the big insane asylum in the sky, but the ending text read “The End...” and that ellipsis means there’s definitely more to come. I don’t care that the credits have started rolling – and they genuinely do, over this shot of our heroes arguing in a park – that last fight was way too easy.
There we go. Nice attempt at a fake-out – the credits were a good touch – but I saw this one coming. I didn’t predict that Carnage would slowly rise out of the lake in the background, mind you. That was definitely unexpected, and only slightly ridiculous to look at.
At first, the prospect of fighting Carnage again wasn’t a particularly worrying one. I’d already clobbered he a few times by now, so why should this be any different? I’ll simply slap him around a little, drain his health bar and be back to wisecracking and selling pictures of myself to the newspaper in no time. Sadly, this was not to be. Carnage, having realised that he’s now the Final Boss, has considerably stepped up his game and has consequently become a right pain in the ballbag to fight against. For starters, he’s got about five times as much health. That wouldn’t make the fight harder, though, just longer and more tedious. No, the real problem is his new moveset. He attacks faster and harder, and he spends roughly eighty percent of his time doing the move where he turns his arms into giant axes and runs forward windmilling them around. As you can see above, he occupies two-thirds of the goddamn screen when he does this. You’ll take loads of damage if you go near him while he’s spinning his arms, and it seems to last for ages, hitting you even when his animation implies he’s stopped doing it. Patience and well-timed jumping kicks saw me through in the end, though, so now I really have finished Maximum Carnage.
Oh, wait, never mind. We’re still doing this. Are we? Really? All right, fine, we’ve got to be near the end now. The location has changed and Carnage has all his health back, but apart from that it’s the exact same fight, and it’s not any more entertaining on a second playthrough.
The interesting thing about these last two fights is that you can switch between Spider-Man and Venom whenever you want, and they’ve each got their own health bars and supply of lives. They also get a brief moment of invincibility when they’re tagged in, and abusing this invincibility is the only way I managed to beat Carnage for a second time. It was slow, it was boring and it was very much not in the spirit of the superhero comics that spawned it, but it was definitely preferable to being killed over and over again.
As Spider-Man mixes up his famous comic-book villains, yes: Spider-Man and Venom: Maximum Carnage really is over, for realsies. It got to be a bit of a slog towards the end, but overall it’s actually rather enjoyable. In patches, anyway. It’s one of those games that’s a bit like looking at any given website’s “Top 100 X Ever” list, where some parts makes sense and others leave you baffled by their inclusion. The core combat is fine. Better than fine, even, with Spider-Man having an expansive array of moves and an appropriately nimble fighting style. It’d be better if it was easier to block, maybe by moving the button to scroll through your superhero helpers from L to Select and thus freeing up L to be a dedicated block button, but apart from that it’s fast-paced and mostly satisfying… but then the boss battles drag everything down by either being the same villains over and over (just as Spider-Man was bemoaning in the intro), or being small groups of uninspiring minions.
Aesthetically it’s a mixed bag, too. The cutscenes’ reworked comic art looks great a lot of the time, and the animations and particularly the playable characters’ sprites are really nice, but then they’re let down by some extremely dull designs on the generic enemies and the odd wonky-looking super-friend, like Captain America adjusting the lil’ Captain while he throws his shield. The same is true of the audio: most sound effects are fine but a couple seem out-of-place, and the music (composed by self-proclaimed “Worst Band Ever” Green Jelly) is technically not bad, but for some reason I never really took to it. An issue of personal taste, no doubt, and I’m sure there are people out there who really like Maximum Carnage’s soundtrack. It’s a good showcase of the kind of electric guitar sounds the SNES could replicate, that’s for sure. It’s also interesting to see that some famous names from the home computer scene were involved, notably the Pickford brothers and Alien Breed composer Allister Brimble.
Overall, I’m coming down in favour of Maximum Carnage. It’s not perfect, but the good bits are good enough that they outweigh the bad. Am I biased because I like Spider-Man so much? Possibly, but we can all appreciate the pleasure of punching a villain and seeing cartoon onomatopoeia pop out.
Labels:
beat em up,
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maximum carnage,
SNES,
software creations,
spider-man
04/01/2017
HIGHLANDER (COMMODORE 64)
Oh hey, it’s 2017. For the first article of the year, I’m going for a real “start as you mean to go on” vibe with a game that’s not only a British home computer game, but also a licensed game so terrible you won’t believe that the developers had the cheek to charge money for it instead of doing the decent thing and personally smashing every copy with a lump hammer. Yes, barely a week since I proclaimed Rugrats: Totally Angelica to be the worst game I’ve ever played, here comes something that’s more than worthy of challenging for that particular title. It’s the Commodore 64 version of Ocean Software’s 1986 princes-of-the-universe-em-up Highlander!
That’s right, it’s a game based on the classic? Cult classic? Let’s go with cult classic action-fantasy film from the same year. Highlander seems to have maintained a fairly prominent place in the pop-cultural memory, anyway, and I’m sure most people know it’s about Connor MacLeod, a member of a group of immortal people who can only be killed by decapitation. The immortals fight each other in order to a) not get decapitated and b) claim a vague and mysterious prize called, imaginatively, The Prize. If nothing else, Highlander is famous for its tagline of “there can be only one,” meaning that the last immortal left with their head attached gets the prize. Despite what this title screen may suggest, claiming The Prize does not turn the recipient into a stone statue with the expression of someone who’s just reached the bathroom after a very long car ride.
There aren’t many options offered to you when you start a game of Highlander. You can play a two-player game against a friend, but friendship is a precious gift and you shouldn’t put it at risk by subjecting another human to this. What else have we got? Well, a few fairly well-rendered pictures of swords. That’s always nice. Everyone loves a good pixel sword. Where would videogames be without swords, eh? Yes, you’re right, I absolutely am stalling. Okay, fine, here’s Highlander.
Yes, it is a one-on-one swordfighting game, because there are few other directions a Highlander game could take. Maybe a business management game where you try to create as many bizarre and forgettable sequels, animated spin-offs and reboots as possible from a series that was wrapped up quite neatly at the end of the first movie. That could be interesting.
You play as Connor MacLeod, naturally. That’s him on the left, with the flowing locks and large brown socks. Your opponent is none other than Juan Sanchez Villa-Lobos Ramirez, the ancient Egyptian / latterly Spanish swordsman famously played by the resolutely Scottish Sean Connery. If you’re ever in need of a quick mood-lifter, try saying “My name’sh Ramiresh” to yourself in the most over-the-top Connery impersonation you can. It always cheers me up.
Ramirez wastes no time trying to give MacLeod the ultimate haircut, which is weird because he’s MacLeod’s friend and mentor. You could argue that this is all supposed to be training, but that doesn’t explain why Ramirez is happy to attack relentlessly and then lop your head off. The only real explanation is that no-one at Ocean gave a shit about what they were doing when making Highlander, an explanation amply supported by almost every other facet of the game.
In an effort to defend myself, I checked out the controls and they’re laid out exactly as I expected them to be – that is, they’re supposedly the same as every other one-on-one fighting game for the C64. Moving the joystick moves your character, while moving the stick while holding the fire button produces a variety of attacks at different heights or puts you in a blocking position. So, you can swing your sword that the opponents head, body or most importantly neck, and you can block at various different heights. You can even kneel down. In a game about avoiding decapitation, this seems like the second dumbest move you can make after drawing a dotted line around your neck, but there you go.
However, there’s a problem. Quite a major problem, in fact. None of this works. Oh, sure, your character moves around the screen and sometimes swings their sword, but it has nothing to do with your input. Getting the same move to come out twice in a row when you want it to is about as likely as finding Elvis’ ghost clogging up your downstairs toilet. MacLeod frequently moves according to his own whims, which especially noticeable when he keeps walking backwards without any prompting.
On top of that, the player receives almost no feedback about what’s going on. A constant “ting, ting, ting” sound effect plays that I presume is meant to represent the mighty blows of these swordsmen clashing together but sounds more like a woodpecker trapped inside a paint can, and it has nothing to do with when the swords actually clash. They don’t clash, really. They just pass through everything, air, sword, and body part alike, without any kind of visual feedback, resulting in the juddering, amorphous mess you can see in the GIF above. You do have a health bar, of sorts: it’s the pixel-thick line at the bottom. Sometimes it goes down when a sword comes near you. Mind you, sometimes it goes down when a sword doesn’t come near you, so it’s hardly a reliable indicator of impending decapitation. Your health, or power, or whatever it’s supposed to represent, will regenerate if you stand still for a while, but this is nigh-impossible to see in action because the CPU characters attack with such relentless aggression that you’d think Connor MacLeod had been round their house, defacated in a pot-plant and wiped his arse with their dog.
I was completely unable to defeat Ramirez, but that doesn’t matter because you can load any of Highlander’s battles and there’s no reward for victory anyway. There’s no attempt at a storyline or anything in this one, you simply load up the character you want to fight and then keep fighting them. Even if you do manage to win a fight, all that happens is that you win counter moves up by one and you get to do it again.
This second bout is against Fasil, a low-tier immortal in a business suit and shades. You’d be forgiven for assuming Ocean forgot to draw eyes on his sprite but no, he’s supposed to be wearing sunglasses. They got that detail right, but then managed to misspell Fasil’s name as “Fazir,” because of course they did.
Fasil and MacLeod fight right at the beginning of the movie, in order to introduce the audience to the concept of blokes swordfighting in dingy locations. With that in mind, you’d think Fasil would be the first opponent in the game, a notion only strengthened by Fasil being easier to defeat than Ramirez. I still didn’t have any idea what was going to happen when I moved the joystick, but as long as I was moving the joystick MacLeod managed to jerk across the screen and wave his arms around often enough for Fasil to suffer a spontaneous decapitation in roughly fifty percent of our battles. You can see Fasil’s mistake in the screenshot above: rather than going for the killing blow, he’s resorted to stabbing MacLeod right in the balls, adding further evidence to my theory than all these fights have nothing to do with claiming the Prize and are rooted in everyone having a deep-seated loathing of Connor.
Finally, you can do battle against the Kurgan himself. Did Ocean misspell Kurgan’s name, too? You bet your ass they did. It’s disappointing but completely expected that no effort was made to recreate Clancy Brown’s, erm, unique face for this game, and he’s been drawn with the suggestion of a beard, which makes him look more like a middle-aged dad than a feared killer. A middle-aged dad with ridiculously large feet, at that.
You may also notice that Connor’s head has fallen off. Get used to seeing that if you’re dumb enough try fighting against Kurgan, because he’s ridiculously overpowered in comparison to the other two fighters. I don’t think I ever landed a hit on him. The game wouldn’t tell me even if I did, but I never saw his health bar move, either. Kurgan wins simply by walking forwards and bashing you a couple of times, because his attacks do way more damage than anyone else’s. It’d be nice if you could defend yourself, but as I’ve mentioned the combat in this game simply does not work. Sure, there are blocking moves in the game, but they could be replaced with animations of Connor singing “Touch My Bum” for all the use they are. Let’s say Kurgan’s about to swing his sword, so you think “I know, I’ll block his attack.” The first problem is that you’ve got no way of knowing whether your joystick input is going to correspond to the move you want. Even if by some miracle it does, Connor moves so slowly that you have no chance of reacting in time anyway. Kurgan swings, Connor does something, maybe, and then Connor’s head falls off.
I honestly cannot overstate how utterly devoid of fun Highlander is. Purely in terms of gameplay, this probably is the worst game I’ve ever played. Other games have hideous aesthetics or offensive content or an even thicker coating of money-grubbing cynicism, but when it comes to the basic act of playing the game Highlander is pure, concentrated misery. You’re barely even playing it at all, and that’s what makes it so awful: the whole point of computer and videogames is that the player is in control. That’s what separates them from other media. When that’s taken away, what do you have left? Absolutely bugger all, that’s what.
With all that said, there is one solitary reason to load up Highlander, and that’s the music. There’s only one track, but that track is Martin Galway’s SID interpretation of Queen’s “A Kind of Magic” and it’s definitely worth a listen.
It’s one moment of quality in what is otherwise an abject disaster, and best of all it’s the title theme, so you don’t even have to play the game to hear it. In this way, even Highlander for the Commodore 64 can be enjoyed. And here I always thought I was a pessimist, but that’s one hell of a “glass half-full” statement.
That’s right, it’s a game based on the classic? Cult classic? Let’s go with cult classic action-fantasy film from the same year. Highlander seems to have maintained a fairly prominent place in the pop-cultural memory, anyway, and I’m sure most people know it’s about Connor MacLeod, a member of a group of immortal people who can only be killed by decapitation. The immortals fight each other in order to a) not get decapitated and b) claim a vague and mysterious prize called, imaginatively, The Prize. If nothing else, Highlander is famous for its tagline of “there can be only one,” meaning that the last immortal left with their head attached gets the prize. Despite what this title screen may suggest, claiming The Prize does not turn the recipient into a stone statue with the expression of someone who’s just reached the bathroom after a very long car ride.
There aren’t many options offered to you when you start a game of Highlander. You can play a two-player game against a friend, but friendship is a precious gift and you shouldn’t put it at risk by subjecting another human to this. What else have we got? Well, a few fairly well-rendered pictures of swords. That’s always nice. Everyone loves a good pixel sword. Where would videogames be without swords, eh? Yes, you’re right, I absolutely am stalling. Okay, fine, here’s Highlander.
Yes, it is a one-on-one swordfighting game, because there are few other directions a Highlander game could take. Maybe a business management game where you try to create as many bizarre and forgettable sequels, animated spin-offs and reboots as possible from a series that was wrapped up quite neatly at the end of the first movie. That could be interesting.
You play as Connor MacLeod, naturally. That’s him on the left, with the flowing locks and large brown socks. Your opponent is none other than Juan Sanchez Villa-Lobos Ramirez, the ancient Egyptian / latterly Spanish swordsman famously played by the resolutely Scottish Sean Connery. If you’re ever in need of a quick mood-lifter, try saying “My name’sh Ramiresh” to yourself in the most over-the-top Connery impersonation you can. It always cheers me up.
Ramirez wastes no time trying to give MacLeod the ultimate haircut, which is weird because he’s MacLeod’s friend and mentor. You could argue that this is all supposed to be training, but that doesn’t explain why Ramirez is happy to attack relentlessly and then lop your head off. The only real explanation is that no-one at Ocean gave a shit about what they were doing when making Highlander, an explanation amply supported by almost every other facet of the game.
In an effort to defend myself, I checked out the controls and they’re laid out exactly as I expected them to be – that is, they’re supposedly the same as every other one-on-one fighting game for the C64. Moving the joystick moves your character, while moving the stick while holding the fire button produces a variety of attacks at different heights or puts you in a blocking position. So, you can swing your sword that the opponents head, body or most importantly neck, and you can block at various different heights. You can even kneel down. In a game about avoiding decapitation, this seems like the second dumbest move you can make after drawing a dotted line around your neck, but there you go.
However, there’s a problem. Quite a major problem, in fact. None of this works. Oh, sure, your character moves around the screen and sometimes swings their sword, but it has nothing to do with your input. Getting the same move to come out twice in a row when you want it to is about as likely as finding Elvis’ ghost clogging up your downstairs toilet. MacLeod frequently moves according to his own whims, which especially noticeable when he keeps walking backwards without any prompting.
On top of that, the player receives almost no feedback about what’s going on. A constant “ting, ting, ting” sound effect plays that I presume is meant to represent the mighty blows of these swordsmen clashing together but sounds more like a woodpecker trapped inside a paint can, and it has nothing to do with when the swords actually clash. They don’t clash, really. They just pass through everything, air, sword, and body part alike, without any kind of visual feedback, resulting in the juddering, amorphous mess you can see in the GIF above. You do have a health bar, of sorts: it’s the pixel-thick line at the bottom. Sometimes it goes down when a sword comes near you. Mind you, sometimes it goes down when a sword doesn’t come near you, so it’s hardly a reliable indicator of impending decapitation. Your health, or power, or whatever it’s supposed to represent, will regenerate if you stand still for a while, but this is nigh-impossible to see in action because the CPU characters attack with such relentless aggression that you’d think Connor MacLeod had been round their house, defacated in a pot-plant and wiped his arse with their dog.
I was completely unable to defeat Ramirez, but that doesn’t matter because you can load any of Highlander’s battles and there’s no reward for victory anyway. There’s no attempt at a storyline or anything in this one, you simply load up the character you want to fight and then keep fighting them. Even if you do manage to win a fight, all that happens is that you win counter moves up by one and you get to do it again.
This second bout is against Fasil, a low-tier immortal in a business suit and shades. You’d be forgiven for assuming Ocean forgot to draw eyes on his sprite but no, he’s supposed to be wearing sunglasses. They got that detail right, but then managed to misspell Fasil’s name as “Fazir,” because of course they did.
Fasil and MacLeod fight right at the beginning of the movie, in order to introduce the audience to the concept of blokes swordfighting in dingy locations. With that in mind, you’d think Fasil would be the first opponent in the game, a notion only strengthened by Fasil being easier to defeat than Ramirez. I still didn’t have any idea what was going to happen when I moved the joystick, but as long as I was moving the joystick MacLeod managed to jerk across the screen and wave his arms around often enough for Fasil to suffer a spontaneous decapitation in roughly fifty percent of our battles. You can see Fasil’s mistake in the screenshot above: rather than going for the killing blow, he’s resorted to stabbing MacLeod right in the balls, adding further evidence to my theory than all these fights have nothing to do with claiming the Prize and are rooted in everyone having a deep-seated loathing of Connor.
Finally, you can do battle against the Kurgan himself. Did Ocean misspell Kurgan’s name, too? You bet your ass they did. It’s disappointing but completely expected that no effort was made to recreate Clancy Brown’s, erm, unique face for this game, and he’s been drawn with the suggestion of a beard, which makes him look more like a middle-aged dad than a feared killer. A middle-aged dad with ridiculously large feet, at that.
You may also notice that Connor’s head has fallen off. Get used to seeing that if you’re dumb enough try fighting against Kurgan, because he’s ridiculously overpowered in comparison to the other two fighters. I don’t think I ever landed a hit on him. The game wouldn’t tell me even if I did, but I never saw his health bar move, either. Kurgan wins simply by walking forwards and bashing you a couple of times, because his attacks do way more damage than anyone else’s. It’d be nice if you could defend yourself, but as I’ve mentioned the combat in this game simply does not work. Sure, there are blocking moves in the game, but they could be replaced with animations of Connor singing “Touch My Bum” for all the use they are. Let’s say Kurgan’s about to swing his sword, so you think “I know, I’ll block his attack.” The first problem is that you’ve got no way of knowing whether your joystick input is going to correspond to the move you want. Even if by some miracle it does, Connor moves so slowly that you have no chance of reacting in time anyway. Kurgan swings, Connor does something, maybe, and then Connor’s head falls off.
I honestly cannot overstate how utterly devoid of fun Highlander is. Purely in terms of gameplay, this probably is the worst game I’ve ever played. Other games have hideous aesthetics or offensive content or an even thicker coating of money-grubbing cynicism, but when it comes to the basic act of playing the game Highlander is pure, concentrated misery. You’re barely even playing it at all, and that’s what makes it so awful: the whole point of computer and videogames is that the player is in control. That’s what separates them from other media. When that’s taken away, what do you have left? Absolutely bugger all, that’s what.
With all that said, there is one solitary reason to load up Highlander, and that’s the music. There’s only one track, but that track is Martin Galway’s SID interpretation of Queen’s “A Kind of Magic” and it’s definitely worth a listen.
It’s one moment of quality in what is otherwise an abject disaster, and best of all it’s the title theme, so you don’t even have to play the game to hear it. In this way, even Highlander for the Commodore 64 can be enjoyed. And here I always thought I was a pessimist, but that’s one hell of a “glass half-full” statement.
Labels:
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commodore 64,
fighting,
highlander,
licensed,
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