Tryzon's Nostalgic Gaming Trips # 6
You there. Yes, you, with your half-pint of coffee and Super Noodles dripping down your shirt, did you at some point own any of the Playstation consoles? You did? Well, logically you must have played at least one of the Spyro games, right? If not, congratulations on your supremely impressive opportunity-wasting skills. Spyro may look a bit 'fruity' at first glance, and his first adventure really didn't help to abolish that preconception, but anyone who has played through even one level of Gateway to Glimmer (aka Ripto's Rage in Yankytown, or -bizarrely- Spyro x Sparx: Tondemo Tours in Japan) or Year of the Dragon cannot deny its overall greatness. It was definitely better than Crash Bandicoot, although that didn't really have anything inherently wrong with it. The following is a general look at the weird little purple lizard's gradual rise and sudden plummet.
Released in 1998, the original Spyro was a damn fine, if flawed, family-friendly romp through colourful lands of wonder and amazement, and this is starting to sound faintly queer already. I warned that the first game didn't do itself any favours among the teens-and-beyond age group. Still, it wasn't really that childish, and this is why it is not a kids-only game. I'm going to make reference to this a lot, so let's establish something now: 'kids-only' and 'family friendly' are not the same. The former is something like Winnie the Pooh, which anyone and everyone over maybe six years old will do nothing but cringe at, while the latter is simply free of all the gore, porn and blasphemy that 95% of modern media contain, thereby making the experience tolerable for everybody.
Anyway, despite the lack of revolutionary elements, Spyro the Dragon was more notable for the foundations it set than the actual game itself. For example, the controls would remain almost identical throughout the Playstation's lifespan, with the only differences being the removal of the 'roll' option and the inclusion of having triangle flap Spyro up at the end of a glide. The core of the game was collecting, and it would only become more pivotal later on, but right from the beginning all the little noises were there, including the 'brrrriiiip' of Sparx (your trusty dragonfly) picking up gems as you fly past, and the 'ding ding dong ding ding' of obtaining said gems. Simplicity is good, people.
The locations and creatures therein were imaginative, although once again the creativity would increase in later years. My favourite place has to be the land of war, where the weird inhabitants would fight each other with cannons before turning them on you.
The health system was interesting: Sparx could appear as three colours, yellow, blue and green, and when you were on your last hit, he would disappear, leaving you to pick up crap yourself. However, killing an innocent prey animal such as a sheep would make Sparx either appear or go up another level of colour. It removed the need for an intrusive health bar, and consequently gets my approval.
Music was varied and suitably silly, with each stage having a different little jingle being played.
Very important was the introduction of the 'charge vs. flame' concept, which goes like this: small enemies can be killed by charging, but large foes cannot. Flame can kill regardless of size, but cannot penetrate metal, while charging can. Therefore, a big creature with metal armour is impervious to attack by normal means.
It wasn't until Gateway to Glimmer that the idea was really used cleverly, but again, it's all about setting foundations, isn't it?
Perhaps the only irritant from the start that was never addressed was the totally, horrifically bad inclusion of a lives system, which regular readers will know that I despise utterly. However, while its mere presence warrants a mark against the game, Spyro counteracts it by being very, very easy. It also gives you a stupendous quantity of lives. So many, in fact, that you are unlikely not to gain far more than you lose. I never actually purposely killed myself twenty times to see what would happen due to my inherent laziness, but I can assure you that it would never happen normally unless you had some sort of significant disability, such as blindness, or vegetableness.
Rather abruptly, I now take you to the sunny shores of Gateway to Glimmer. Yep, this is where things get really shiny, folks. Everything was refined to diamond-quality, with all the irratants scrubbed out, a few totally new segments welded on, and the whole shebang became better in every way.
Levels were a bit bigger, with more side quests, mini-games, better music, more interesting and funny characters; controls were improved in the ways I spoke of earlier; graphics got a big overhaul; sweet unlockables were included, resulting in an urge to collect everything, much like Lego Star Wars would do many years later, and critically, everything good about the first game was kept. So many developers fix half a game's problems, only to add a whole bucketload of new 'uns, with a super-duper (sorry, Fallout 3 syndrome) example being the totally messed-up Prince of Persia trilogy, which nearly had a flawless experience, but just kept adding corny angst, awkward gameplay varieties and horrible writing.
As a side note, while the subject's open, I'm one of those people who hates everything, with one of my personal constant nemeses (*in-joke alert* yes, that's the plural, apparently) being movie and game names.
For the entire of the Sands of Time Trilogy, Prince of Persia had a very sensible name format: series title, subtitle. Perfect, flawless, immaculate. But now, with a crazy new series beginning, they decided to change the name. I'm dubious, but okay, whatever. So what did they call the first instalment? Prince of Persia. That's it. It's no remake, or reimagining, or anything. It's a completely new game, but they have to confuse the fajitas out of people on Google by having two games only vaguely related be called the same name. Plus you have to wonder what the next part will be called. Prince of Persia 2? Isn't that name taken as well? Garg!
But the champion of awkward inconsistency goes to the Jak series. Much as I love the games, whoever was in charge of titles had some seriously weird crap going on with their heads.
Jak & Daxter: The Precursor Legacy. Format wise, it's sound. There are a few issues, however: to a casual observer, the most immediate query will doubtless be "what the frazzles is a Precursor?" It sounds like the kind of ancient relic that Indiana Jones should have gone looking for instead of freaking E.T.s. Also, eleven syllables? Is that enough? I'm not even sure if databases have enough space to put the full name down. Bah. It wasn't perfect, but it was serviceable. At least it wasn't called The Precursors' Revenge.
Then hops along Jak II: Renegade. What did lovable Daxter do to deserve being snipped off the title? Be funny? Amusingly, the little orange rodent actually makes reference to the issue in the game's strategy guide, while complaining about an in-game Ratchet & Clank poster : "First I'm wiped off the title of the game, and now these guys have entered my game. That's just too much." Take that, fourth wall! (Actually, what are the first three walls?) Coincidentally, Ratchet & Clank was what Naughty Dog moved onto after Spyro. Wow. See that connection I made there? Genius.
The roman numerals thing was basically done to show off Dark Jak in contrast to normal Jak, and there's really nothing to say there. More problematic is 'Renegade'. While it certainly isn't über-cheese, it is still mildly corny. In summary, I think the shortened title was a necessary change, but the subtitle lets the team down.
At last comes Jak 3, which completely destroys all the rules previously established, and doesn't seem to care. While it may be a good title by itself, the fact that it bears no resemblance except for Jak's name to the other titles is atrocious. They should have kept "series title, roman numeral, subtitle", but instead they screw everything up just to annoy little me. Bollocks to you Naughty Dog, with your very good games but non-existent title planning!
Apologies to anyone who struggled through that rant: I got carried away thinking about how much I hate pointless irrelevant things, then I remembered all about Jak, and the strategy guide, and things got crazy. I'm sorry now. I promise to keep the remainder of this feature sensible, and in future confine all lengthy rants to their own separate document.
Just one more thing, I swear, please don't hang up...I mean, stop reading, rather. Naughty dog, if you loved me *thiiiiiiis* much, you'd finish the next Uncharted (also looking forward to it somewhat) and then immediately make Jak IV: The Awesomeness. Or if you can only make me a small peace offering, I shall settle for a PS2 port of Daxter, that PSP game.
Oh, Zeus, I have things to say about the PSP...but I must resist. Continuing now...*mumbles*
With Gateway's greatness came new consistent characters, both good and bad. Ripto, antagonist, decides to mess up the place, inevitably fails, but then comes back in later, less good games because he had nothing better to do. He's a knowingly predictable midget sorcerer who is power-hungry but whiny, and I challenge you not to at least tolerate him. The Professor, Moneybags (a posh, gem-loving bear) and Hunter (a bumbling Cheetah) are all enjoyable, and hard not to love. Elora the faun, however, is totally unlikeable. She has one of those weird American voices where it sounds like her voice is breaking, only she's clearly a low-twenties woman, so I really don't know what to think. Keira from Jak & Daxter has the same strange thing going on, although she isn't quite as irritating, and she wasn't actually in Jak 3, so woohoo.
The whole atmosphere of Gateway is one of self-parody, which I and folks at the time liked. It's all part of the family friendly fun, people!
Another sharp gear-change brings us to platform 3, Year of the Dragon. Of note here is my not having the game for many years, unlike the first two which I have joyfully reacquired. Naturally, this means my points are, like, totally based entirely on my bodacious memories, dude. Excellent!
Good news, though: it's basically Gateway 2.57, because, once again, Insomniac proved they are not, in fact, a load of retarded monkeys, and focussed on the best points of the game, with the only real difference being a new plot, more places to go, Sparx levels, and a couple of new characters to play as on occasion. In short, it is as great a sequel as you could get without being a revolution like Gateway. It is just as, if not more, as essential as its immediate predecessor. Happy days.
Now it's 2002, and things are super-shiny, lovely and perfect, right? With Spyro's awesomeness consistently improving, and his PS2 debut on the way, things could hardly go downhill. Only they did. Spyro: Enter the Dragonfly. First bad sign? Look at the box. Just look at it. If you have it, tear it inside out, and try to find Insomniac's name somewhere. No didn't find it, did you? Instead, this thing was made by (and I'm Wiki-quoting here) "Equinox Digital Entertainment, and Check Six Studios". Who. The. Crap. Are. They? Tellingly, they don't have a page on Wiki. This series was taken and given to a load of nobodies. Unbelievable. Still, that certainly doesn't guarantee shittyness, but it does mean that the feel of the games is lost forever. Another omen is that Sony apparently wanted nothing to do with the series' new handlers, and surrendered publishing rights to Vivendi Games, who I have only ever heard of from Crash Bandicoot, and he's never been the same since Wrath of Cortex (another sixth-generation debut). The result was that Spyro stopped being a Playstation legend and became a multi-format anonymous weirdo, who no-one likes anymore.
The reason for his lack of fans is the fact that his console games are basically jokes now, due to the fact that whoever Equinox are, they clearly weren't as creative as Insomniac. They ran poor Spyro into the ground, and his occasional game releases are now met with universal 'meh'.
So while this story came to the saddest end possible, at least good ol' Insomniac are very much alive and well, with their Ratchet & Clank keeping them going. It isn't quite as brilliant as Jak, but hey, what is?
This has been a disjointed, often nonsensical reflection on how Spyro soared before having his wings clipped, and it carries a powerful message: changing developers is the quickest route to Shitetown, and takes you straight into Obscurity avenue. I learned a few things with this: I have a lot of ranting to do; Spyro is one of my oldest and dearest gaming pals, and his demise sickens me; Jak is still as epic as ever, although Wiki says that his future "is uncertain", which is bad; finally, Ratchet & Clank has an impressive pedigree, and its creators completely deserve to be loved.
Now here's a favourite part: where a get to order you lot around. You are to purchase Spyro 2 & 3, all the Jak games, Soul Reaver, and Daxter, if you happen to have a PSP. If you were a N64 person.....oh dear. My deepest sympathies.
Tryzon's Nostalgic Gaming Trips # 6
You there. Yes, you, with your half-pint of coffee and Super Noodles dripping down your shirt, did you at some point own any of the Playstation consoles? You did? Well, logically you must have played at least one of the Spyro games, right? If not, congratulations on your supremely impressive opportunity-wasting skills. Spyro may look a bit 'fruity' at first glance, and his first adventure really didn't help to abolish that preconception, but anyone who has played through even one level of Gateway to Glimmer (aka Ripto's Rage in Yankytown, or -bizarrely- Spyro x Sparx: Tondemo Tours in Japan) or Year of the Dragon cannot deny its overall greatness. It was definitely better than Crash Bandicoot, although that didn't really have anything inherently wrong with it. The following is a general look at the weird little purple lizard's gradual rise and sudden plummet.
Released in 1998, the original Spyro was a damn fine, if flawed, family-friendly romp through colourful lands of wonder and amazement, and this is starting to sound faintly queer already. I warned that the first game didn't do itself any favours among the teens-and-beyond age group. Still, it wasn't really that childish, and this is why it is not a kids-only game. I'm going to make reference to this a lot, so let's establish something now: 'kids-only' and 'family friendly' are not the same. The former is something like Winnie the Pooh, which anyone and everyone over maybe six years old will do nothing but cringe at, while the latter is simply free of all the gore, porn and blasphemy that 95% of modern media contain, thereby making the experience tolerable for everybody.
Anyway, despite the lack of revolutionary elements, Spyro the Dragon was more notable for the foundations it set than the actual game itself. For example, the controls would remain almost identical throughout the Playstation's lifespan, with the only differences being the removal of the 'roll' option and the inclusion of having triangle flap Spyro up at the end of a glide. The core of the game was collecting, and it would only become more pivotal later on, but right from the beginning all the little noises were there, including the 'brrrriiiip' of Sparx (your trusty dragonfly) picking up gems as you fly past, and the 'ding ding dong ding ding' of obtaining said gems. Simplicity is good, people.
The locations and creatures therein were imaginative, although once again the creativity would increase in later years. My favourite place has to be the land of war, where the weird inhabitants would fight each other with cannons before turning them on you.
The health system was interesting: Sparx could appear as three colours, yellow, blue and green, and when you were on your last hit, he would disappear, leaving you to pick up crap yourself. However, killing an innocent prey animal such as a sheep would make Sparx either appear or go up another level of colour. It removed the need for an intrusive health bar, and consequently gets my approval.
Music was varied and suitably silly, with each stage having a different little jingle being played.
Very important was the introduction of the 'charge vs. flame' concept, which goes like this: small enemies can be killed by charging, but large foes cannot. Flame can kill regardless of size, but cannot penetrate metal, while charging can. Therefore, a big creature with metal armour is impervious to attack by normal means.
It wasn't until Gateway to Glimmer that the idea was really used cleverly, but again, it's all about setting foundations, isn't it?
Perhaps the only irritant from the start that was never addressed was the totally, horrifically bad inclusion of a lives system, which regular readers will know that I despise utterly. However, while its mere presence warrants a mark against the game, Spyro counteracts it by being very, very easy. It also gives you a stupendous quantity of lives. So many, in fact, that you are unlikely not to gain far more than you lose. I never actually purposely killed myself twenty times to see what would happen due to my inherent laziness, but I can assure you that it would never happen normally unless you had some sort of significant disability, such as blindness, or vegetableness.
Rather abruptly, I now take you to the sunny shores of Gateway to Glimmer. Yep, this is where things get really shiny, folks. Everything was refined to diamond-quality, with all the irratants scrubbed out, a few totally new segments welded on, and the whole shebang became better in every way.
Levels were a bit bigger, with more side quests, mini-games, better music, more interesting and funny characters; controls were improved in the ways I spoke of earlier; graphics got a big overhaul; sweet unlockables were included, resulting in an urge to collect everything, much like Lego Star Wars would do many years later, and critically, everything good about the first game was kept. So many developers fix half a game's problems, only to add a whole bucketload of new 'uns, with a super-duper (sorry, Fallout 3 syndrome) example being the totally messed-up Prince of Persia trilogy, which nearly had a flawless experience, but just kept adding corny angst, awkward gameplay varieties and horrible writing.
As a side note, while the subject's open, I'm one of those people who hates everything, with one of my personal constant nemeses (*in-joke alert* yes, that's the plural, apparently) being movie and game names.
For the entire of the Sands of Time Trilogy, Prince of Persia had a very sensible name format: series title, subtitle. Perfect, flawless, immaculate. But now, with a crazy new series beginning, they decided to change the name. I'm dubious, but okay, whatever. So what did they call the first instalment? Prince of Persia. That's it. It's no remake, or reimagining, or anything. It's a completely new game, but they have to confuse the fajitas out of people on Google by having two games only vaguely related be called the same name. Plus you have to wonder what the next part will be called. Prince of Persia 2? Isn't that name taken as well? Garg!
But the champion of awkward inconsistency goes to the Jak series. Much as I love the games, whoever was in charge of titles had some seriously weird crap going on with their heads.
Jak & Daxter: The Precursor Legacy. Format wise, it's sound. There are a few issues, however: to a casual observer, the most immediate query will doubtless be "what the frazzles is a Precursor?" It sounds like the kind of ancient relic that Indiana Jones should have gone looking for instead of freaking E.T.s. Also, eleven syllables? Is that enough? I'm not even sure if databases have enough space to put the full name down. Bah. It wasn't perfect, but it was serviceable. At least it wasn't called The Precursors' Revenge.
Then hops along Jak II: Renegade. What did lovable Daxter do to deserve being snipped off the title? Be funny? Amusingly, the little orange rodent actually makes reference to the issue in the game's strategy guide, while complaining about an in-game Ratchet & Clank poster : "First I'm wiped off the title of the game, and now these guys have entered my game. That's just too much." Take that, fourth wall! (Actually, what are the first three walls?) Coincidentally, Ratchet & Clank was what Naughty Dog moved onto after Spyro. Wow. See that connection I made there? Genius.
The roman numerals thing was basically done to show off Dark Jak in contrast to normal Jak, and there's really nothing to say there. More problematic is 'Renegade'. While it certainly isn't über-cheese, it is still mildly corny. In summary, I think the shortened title was a necessary change, but the subtitle lets the team down.
At last comes Jak 3, which completely destroys all the rules previously established, and doesn't seem to care. While it may be a good title by itself, the fact that it bears no resemblance except for Jak's name to the other titles is atrocious. They should have kept "series title, roman numeral, subtitle", but instead they screw everything up just to annoy little me. Bollocks to you Naughty Dog, with your very good games but non-existent title planning!
Apologies to anyone who struggled through that rant: I got carried away thinking about how much I hate pointless irrelevant things, then I remembered all about Jak, and the strategy guide, and things got crazy. I'm sorry now. I promise to keep the remainder of this feature sensible, and in future confine all lengthy rants to their own separate document.
Just one more thing, I swear, please don't hang up...I mean, stop reading, rather. Naughty dog, if you loved me *thiiiiiiis* much, you'd finish the next Uncharted (also looking forward to it somewhat) and then immediately make Jak IV: The Awesomeness. Or if you can only make me a small peace offering, I shall settle for a PS2 port of Daxter, that PSP game.
Oh, Zeus, I have things to say about the PSP...but I must resist. Continuing now...*mumbles*
With Gateway's greatness came new consistent characters, both good and bad. Ripto, antagonist, decides to mess up the place, inevitably fails, but then comes back in later, less good games because he had nothing better to do. He's a knowingly predictable midget sorcerer who is power-hungry but whiny, and I challenge you not to at least tolerate him. The Professor, Moneybags (a posh, gem-loving bear) and Hunter (a bumbling Cheetah) are all enjoyable, and hard not to love. Elora the faun, however, is totally unlikeable. She has one of those weird American voices where it sounds like her voice is breaking, only she's clearly a low-twenties woman, so I really don't know what to think. Keira from Jak & Daxter has the same strange thing going on, although she isn't quite as irritating, and she wasn't actually in Jak 3, so woohoo.
The whole atmosphere of Gateway is one of self-parody, which I and folks at the time liked. It's all part of the family friendly fun, people!
Another sharp gear-change brings us to platform 3, Year of the Dragon. Of note here is my not having the game for many years, unlike the first two which I have joyfully reacquired. Naturally, this means my points are, like, totally based entirely on my bodacious memories, dude. Excellent!
Good news, though: it's basically Gateway 2.57, because, once again, Insomniac proved they are not, in fact, a load of retarded monkeys, and focussed on the best points of the game, with the only real difference being a new plot, more places to go, Sparx levels, and a couple of new characters to play as on occasion. In short, it is as great a sequel as you could get without being a revolution like Gateway. It is just as, if not more, as essential as its immediate predecessor. Happy days.
Now it's 2002, and things are super-shiny, lovely and perfect, right? With Spyro's awesomeness consistently improving, and his PS2 debut on the way, things could hardly go downhill. Only they did. Spyro: Enter the Dragonfly. First bad sign? Look at the box. Just look at it. If you have it, tear it inside out, and try to find Insomniac's name somewhere. No didn't find it, did you? Instead, this thing was made by (and I'm Wiki-quoting here) "Equinox Digital Entertainment, and Check Six Studios". Who. The. Crap. Are. They? Tellingly, they don't have a page on Wiki. This series was taken and given to a load of nobodies. Unbelievable. Still, that certainly doesn't guarantee shittyness, but it does mean that the feel of the games is lost forever. Another omen is that Sony apparently wanted nothing to do with the series' new handlers, and surrendered publishing rights to Vivendi Games, who I have only ever heard of from Crash Bandicoot, and he's never been the same since Wrath of Cortex (another sixth-generation debut). The result was that Spyro stopped being a Playstation legend and became a multi-format anonymous weirdo, who no-one likes anymore.
The reason for his lack of fans is the fact that his console games are basically jokes now, due to the fact that whoever Equinox are, they clearly weren't as creative as Insomniac. They ran poor Spyro into the ground, and his occasional game releases are now met with universal 'meh'.
So while this story came to the saddest end possible, at least good ol' Insomniac are very much alive and well, with their Ratchet & Clank keeping them going. It isn't quite as brilliant as Jak, but hey, what is?
This has been a disjointed, often nonsensical reflection on how Spyro soared before having his wings clipped, and it carries a powerful message: changing developers is the quickest route to Shitetown, and takes you straight into Obscurity avenue. I learned a few things with this: I have a lot of ranting to do; Spyro is one of my oldest and dearest gaming pals, and his demise sickens me; Jak is still as epic as ever, although Wiki says that his future "is uncertain", which is bad; finally, Ratchet & Clank has an impressive pedigree, and its creators completely deserve to be loved.
Now here's a favourite part: where a get to order you lot around. You are to purchase Spyro 2 & 3, all the Jak games, Soul Reaver, and Daxter, if you happen to have a PSP. If you were a N64 person.....oh dear. My deepest sympathies.