Reviews by Ashley Winchester

Cheesy dialog. International terrorism. Shameful stereotypes. Three things that are bad and negative and are an essential part of making Syphon Filter the game it is. Upon receiving the game through a rather haphazard trade with an old friend, I had little idea how important the adventures of Gabe Logan and Lian Xing would become throughout the years. As is usually the case, Syphon Filter was hardly perfect, sometimes far from it, but from my first moments on Georgia Street to the closing credits of 2001's Syphon Filter 3 I knew I was part of something, that I was no mere observer.

As poetic as that may sound, the depiction of such immersement may cause some to raise an eyebrow, especially when one considers the series has never carried the clout associated with a game like Metal Gear Solid. While the differences in quality are more than obvious to anyone that’s played these games, Syphon Filter and its sequels have come under fire for not surviving the persistence of time due to their release on the PlayStation Network. Does such an opinion hold water or do the games still have something to offer fans and newcomers alike? Unlike the conspiracy behind the virus itself, the answer isn't veiled in secrecy although it requires an open mind and a little forgiveness.

The game opens with a full motion video taking place deep in the jungles of South America where players are immediately introduced to Gabriel Logan and Lian Xing. Such video is an area that would be improved upon greatly throughout the years; Gabe and Lian look pretty blocky here, but if you skip ahead and view some video from Syphon Filter 3, one will see how far this element of Syphon Filter came in a relatively short amount of time. Obviously, in building the original from the ground up, certain elements were left a little unpolished. Leaving room for improvement is fine as long as you succeed at that which is crucial, like gameplay.

When looking at Syphon Filter's gameplay engine, thoughts of Edios' Tomb Raider are never far behind. Actually, while this could be said for a large handful of games from the era, there are worse things to be compared to. We have your typical, low resolution textures and the occasional camera problem but these kinds of things were commonplace in many games at the time. The game overcomes these problems with its spectacular level design. This is something the game - and its sequels - has always had in spades. Seriously, if I was going to hire some level designers, the people behind these landscapes are the people I'd want to hire. The imagination within the environments (especially the option of going stealth in Rhoemer's Base in Rozovka, Kazakhstan - awesome and rewarding!) easily eclipses the limitations behind it all. Gabe may run like he's got a stick up his butt but that’s the last thing I think about when gunning down terrorists at steady framerate.

Speaking of gunning down terrorists, some will be quick to point out the control seems a little loose. I have to admit that I prefer it that way. Sure, I had to adjust and adapt to that initial "looseness," but it ultimately added to the character on the screen. Gabe doesn't handle as workmanlike as Lara Croft and, in all honesty, I wouldn’t want him to. Unfortunately for your enemies, none of these worries cross over when lining up the hundreds of head shots you'll be making over the course of the game.

Despite this, Syphon Filter does manage to land itself into hot water every now and then. The most perplexing of these situations lies halfway through the game when fighting the first boss. Outside of this scenario being ripped straight out of Metal Gear Solid, there are several things about this exciting battle that raise a red flag. First, during the second phase of the battle when enemy combatants start appearing on the platform, why are the enemy soldiers immune to the storm of lead that cuts through me like a cheese grater? On top of that, in the third and final phase of the battle, why do I sometimes take damage even when I'm taking cover? Problematic as this and the increasing difficulty factor near the end can be, it ultimately fails to derail the game.

On the audio side of things, the scenarios we are presented with are thoroughly voiced. In respect to older games, including voiceovers in a game doesn't automatically make it better than those that came before, but there's a feeling that the world we're thrust into here wouldn't be the same without them – the good and bad. There are some true “gems” in here, some that are so bad that they're good. Really, who could forget how convincing Jonathan Phagan sounds when he's begging for his life ("Please! Don't kill me!), Aramov's wretched Russian accent ("Tell me where the virus labs are... if you don't I will kill you!") or the hysterically bad radio transmission with Lian and Rhoemer in Kazakhstan? For the most part, these speed bumps are the minority and the majority of the acting is respectable enough to pull you into the narrative.

Much like the previously discussed level design, the narrative does its fair share of lifting. Granted, I'm not going to sit here and pretend it is infallible – off hand I can think of a few parts that could have been handled with a little more caution - or that it has the quality of well-written book but it's enough to propel the player to the end. Still, if I was going to complement anything concerning the writing, it would be the pre-mission briefings that convey the situation you'll be facing in the following level.

I'm sure to many I've failed to offer a compelling case as to how Syphon Filter can hold its ground in gaming history and in comparison to what is available today. Indeed, in many ways a lot of the above boils down to "you had to be there" but to anyone with an open mind, Syphon Filter may end up surprising you much like it did me back in 1999. The game may not demand the most of the player, but it can be engrossing enough if given the chance. Give it that chance.

In the world of gaming, opinions vary as much as the food we eat and the drinks we drink. In picking and choosing what we play and experience, we sometimes forget how important contrasting views can be and how even negative ones can be blessings in disguise.

As if the ten out of ten didn't tell you, I love Tomb Raider. Well, I love the original Tomb Raider. The sequels are a different story altogether, and while my feelings towards them depend on which one we're talking about, there was something about Lara's quest to find the three pieces of the Atlantean Scion that simply seized the teenager I was in 1997 and continues to do so today. So why was Tomb Raider so attractive, why did it (and Final Fantasy VII) lure me away from the Nintendo 64? Why was it the right game at the right time?

A lot of it had to do with entering those teenage years. After partaking in what the Super Nintendo had to offer I was unknowingly looking for experiences that felt and looked a little more mature than, say, a Mario game. I'm sure Mario 64 was (and still is) a great game (that I should sit down and play someday) but when looking back at the games I missed by choosing the PlayStation, I don't have any regrets. What I do regret is people taking a good game (Final Fantasy VII) and sticking it up on a pedestal because a) they can and b) it's the in thing to do. As aggravating as that can be, it's something the Tomb Raider has never had to deal with. The series has had its fair share of detractors from day one whom, for the most part, offer legitimate points of view. Quite honestly, I thank them for that, for keeping this game tethered to the ground. That said, let's take a look at Tomb Raider, the good and the bad, and how it easily overcomes most of its problems.

In almost any discussion about involving Tomb Raider, the first thing that comes up is the controls. Seriously, it's almost a forgone conclusion. I'm willing to admit that when things get chaotic (like when battling a small handful of Atlantean Crawlers or mummies that just love to jump anywhere) the rigid control scheme can become a liability, but these moments are the minority. Unlike later games where just about every goon you encounter has a gun (groan) the vast majority of foes in Tomb Raider are creatures with no distance attacks. One-on-one you might be able to gun them down before they close the gap, but in tight spaces or against large numbers, gaining a height advantage can tip the scale in your favor. Some may consider this kind of play cheap since the enemies capable of climbing (gorillas) are very limited in their ability, but just when the player gets comfortable with such a strategy the final levels throw a well placed curve ball in the form of full-on, projectile based combat.

At this point, jumping back and forth from left to right in quick succession becomes the most effective from of defense/offense. While this seems like a rather straightforward strategy to implement, a moving target being harder to hit than a stationary one, it also comes with a few perils. Acute knowledge of the surrounding area is extremely important so one doesn't fall prey to a trap (most commonly a slippery slope that leads to a pit) that leads to one's doom. Sometimes there isn't much, or any, time to acquire that knowledge before an enemy attack. This isn't really a case of the camera failing to keep up with the action, although the camera can become an issue if the player ends up slamming their back against a wall - something that's a one-way ticket to suffering some cheap hits. Additionally, this technique requires a bit more finesse than one would initially believe because of the slight pause between jumps. If an enemy fires a shot at the player at this juncture, there's a good chance it will connect, meaning the player needs to adjust their timing with a slight pause of their own so future openings don't fall in line with the enemy's attack pattern.

Luckily, while the above works well enough despite not being bulletproof, gunplay is only half of what Tomb Raider has to offer. In general, the controls hold up a bit better when the player is dealing with platforming where they have a little more time to plan and execute their moves, and is where the perks of the grid based system the game is built on makes up for it's graphical deficiencies. Lining up jumps is a breeze and unlike Tomb Raider Anniversary, where there is that feeling that something can go horribly wrong at any second, there is little to fear once you have the controls down. The concept of a walk button may seem archaic in this day and age, but it works and gets the job done. The only time the platforming sections really get into trouble is when obstacles require multiple, consecutive jumps (but these sections tend to occur above water filled areas that safety break any falls) and when the game baits you with an item that requires a specialty jump like a backwards jump and its lower trajectory. Typically, these will result in a few game overs until the player figures it out or just continues on their way.

Along with the running, gunning and platforming comes graphics and level design. As was mentioned before, the grid based system Core implemented does leave some things to be desired. Things like flat scenery, pixilated surfaces and box-like structures are commonplace, but then those things are commonplace in a lot of PlayStation games. That said, I have to lump Tomb Raider's level design with that of another prominent title, id Software's Doom. Even with all the limitations, the levels just pop from the screen and it really took a play through Tomb Raider Anniversary for me to realize how impressive even the lesser known parts of the game really are. Everything Crystal Dynamics set out to replace because it wasn't as "memorable" as the rest actually ended up being better than what they replaced it with. One of the best examples is the Lost Valley where the darkness that defined the level was completely disregarded with a sky and sunlight. In fact, Anniversary ditched a lot of what made the original game work, one of the most important aspects being the cramped and confined hallways.

Another thing the original Tomb Raider got right and the remake got wrong was the music. I'll just come out and say it, Nathan McCree totally hit the nail on the head here, he really did. Many criticize Tomb Raider for using music so sparingly, for its world being so quiet, but in reality it's actually quite brilliant. There may be one of four ambient tracks playing at any given time in a level, which aren't exactly impressive own their own, but it allows sound effects like gunshots and enemy screeches to pierce the silence and make their deafening impact. It's also makes the appearance of one of McCree's full-fledged pieces like "Battle in the Ancient Courtyard," "Ruins of a Lost Civilization," and "Architecture of the Past" so special, especially when the last two are played during moments of reprieve. Unfortunately, while some of these pieces made the transition to Anniversary, Troels B. Folmann drowns them in that over-bombastic orchestral crap that finds its way into many games produced outside of Japan.

Last but not least, we reach the focal point of Lara's quest: the storyline. While Tomb Raider's use of in-game and full motion videos is competent enough in fleshing out what is going on, most will still find it bare-bones, save the world fare. For the most part, they're right. Still, even with all the bad voice acting and one-dimensional foes, it's doesn't take much to realize that Natla is probably the best villain the series has ever seen. I mean who can you compare her to? Tomb Raider II's Bartoli? The best thing is it doesn't even end with Natla; even The Bald Man, Stakeboard Kid, Cowboy, Pierre and Larson beat the tar out of any baddies presented in any of the future games, and they are never really explored as characters. What's ironic is how much went wrong when Crystal Dynamics did explore these characters. I don't really need to know that Kold (the Bald Man) is a murderer; all I need to know is that he has my shotgun and I need it back. I don't need a scene where Lara feels bad for wasting Larson, and I don't want Cowboy nuked out of existence and combined with him. I didn't like it, and I took it personally.

While some will obviously question whether or not my opinion of Tomb Raider teeters on the edge of fanboyism, I honestly feel it's more of a case where a fan is able to except the problems within without letting it taint all that was done right. Ten out of ten may seem generous, but it really doesn't when reflecting on how the game makes me feel when I play it, and when you think about it, isn't that what truly matters? Everyone has a guilty pleasure or two, and while Tomb Raider is guilty of a lot of things, I certainly can't hold it in contempt in my court.

Much like photographs, video games can be a gateway to a treasure trove of memories. While no piece of software could really trump the family photo album or a fictitious trip to the Grand Canyon, it is often ironic (sad) how a gamer can remember the first time they played a specific game but can't remember what eight times eight is. Anyhow, more often than not, games just don't define themselves, they define eras, technological advancement and consoles.

For example, while games like Mortal Kombat 3 and Killer Instinct should probably be at the bottom of any system defining game list for the SNES, they are at the forefront of my thoughts when the console is mentioned because everybody I knew had them when I was in the sixth grade. And while they where popular for all the wrong reasons (well, Killer Instinct's combo system had more to offer than Mortal Kombat 3's violence) they were a part of the culture, and a part of my personal history despite how far they've fallen since.

A similar story reigns over Tomb Raider II and Final Fantasy VII, two of the biggest titles the PlayStation was packing around the 97' holiday season. After passing on the Nintendo 64 the previous year due to its scarcity, playing the original Tomb Raider on my cousins Sega Saturn and trying out the Final Fantasy VII demo included in Tobal No.1, I was as hyped as everyone else. Who didn't want to play more Tomb Raider? Who didn't want to continue the adventures of that yellow, spiky haired character named after a particular atmospheric element? As enjoyable as both products ended up being in their heyday, what would the future have in store for them? When it comes to Final Fantasy VII, what can be said that hasn't already been said about its bizarre and somewhat overstated resurrection? Perplexing as that situation ended up being, what about game on the table here, Tomb Raider II?

While it hardly strays from the formula that made the first game the success it was, Tomb Raider II strays just enough in key areas to make topping the original impossible. Why isn't Tomb Raider II as good as Tomb Raider? The core reason has to do with an argument that has been made time and time again: the environments. Given that the name of the game is Tomb Raider, which of the following three locals would you least expect to explore: a tomb, a pyramid or a... offshore oil rig? Like most, I just have question why you would take Lara out of the tombs when lightning clearly struck with that combination. Don't get me wrong, the level design it still very respectable, and I'll at least meet them halfway with the Maria Doria since it can be considered a makeshift tomb like the Titanic, but when you get the feeling that the game would be more appealing just by changing the texture mapping back to the colors that defined the original you have to admit there may be some problems brewing.

The other thing that drags down Tomb Raider II down is combat; not so much that there is a lot of it, but in what you're fighting: other humans. Supposedly, this change was born out of all the complaints Core received about the more natural enemies that populated the original, where actual gunfights were limited to the final few levels. Unfortunately, Core decided to listen to this idea so know we have every other loser cultist in the game running around with a sidearm, usually getting the first shot at you from a distance. Just perfect! I can't think of anything better than being turned into Swiss cheese before I have a chance to defend myself! Annoying as this becomes, it does manage to balance out certain elements left unchecked in the first game.

Still, there happens to be another problem with Bartoli and his men. Does anyone even fear them or think they make are good villains? They may look pretty ugly, but that's about all. And while some of the game's cut scenes (like the one that concludes the Diving Area) would have one believe otherwise, the conflict between Lara and Bartoli never feels personal. Compounding this even further is the fact the danger experienced in the first level doesn't return until the end of the game in the Temple of Xian. Another issue that arises from Tomb Raider II's narrative has to do with keeping the Barkhang Monks on your side when raiding their monastery. Not only is this insanely amusing, it saves a ton of ammo. Unfortunately, it raises an intriguing question: why would the monks leave Lara to her own devices in her quest for the dagger? They may practice non-violence until attacked, but letting Lara have such a dangerous item as a conversation piece is hardly the safest place for such an item; the hilarious, completely sexist ending easily proving that.

As for what's new gameplay wise, we have the introduction of flares, ladder climbing, the mid air/water flip, and Lara's first few set of wheels: the snowmobile and motor boat. For the most part, these are all rather safe additions; they don't make the game seem overly desperate to evolve like Tomb Raider III's crawl and sprint or fudge up the control scheme with a million and a half commands. The snowmobile and boat present their own problems, as if that's a shocker, but they could literally apply for sainthood when compared to those in the third installment.

With that last paragraph pretty much reiterating what the title of this review should be, Tomb Raider II's best quality is the fact it isn't Tomb Raider III. That doesn't exactly bode well for the future of the series, but it does mean Tomb Raider II is good enough for most people to digest without worry. That said time has shown that it had nothing on the original, and that it still doesn't.

Dear Tomb Raider III,

I've been waiting for this day. While you were a no-brainer of a purchase for those that enjoyed Tomb Raider I and II, you and I have not been the best of friends. I mean really, how else could you explain the ten plus years between my initial play through when you debuted and the one I partook of for this review? I can easily take pleasure in what your predecessors have to offer, but when it comes to you I hesitate. It shouldn't take two days of ceaseless mulling to get a game into my PlayStation. So why, why do I cringe at the mere thought of playing you? How did you turn me away from your future successors? Alas, it's a long story, but a story that needs to be told.

Things weren't always this complicated. In the early going, you touted your slightly crisper graphics and touched up effects (like rain, water ripples, gun smoke, footprints, blood and fire) in an attempt to dress up and look sharp for your friends, as well as changing in-game secrets back to their former glory (ammo and health pickups) once again. Such high points aside, it's somewhat hard to pinpoint where it all went astray, so let's start out small. Why is it when I pick up some goodies, you no longer feel the need show me what I just picked up? Why so greedy with the info all of a sudden? Often times it's hard to determine what I just added to my inventory because your treasures are so dark and dingy – and small. Let's not forget small. What's up with these new, anorexic medi-packs? Were they too noticeable before or something? And what's up with the game's first key? Talk about lack of defining contrast! Combine this with your constant need to manipulate light and shadow and you can see how you're not exactly the most forthcoming game on the face of the planet.

Your phobia of being pilfered by big-breasted, item raiding adventurers brings us to your weapon selection. Despite the lack of variety, things were great during your original incarnation: from the punch of the Magnums to the chatter of the Uzis, you provided great guns that complemented Lara's great mobility. Unfortunately, things started to go a bit south with the M16 and Harpoon Gun in Tomb Raider II. With an increase in gun wielding enemies, a gun that pretty much glued the player's feet the floor was a rather ill-conceived addition. Still, the M16 - and its newer counterpart the MP5 - look great when compared to the harpoon gun. Who in their right mind is going to engage enemies underwater when gaining the high ground is so much more effective? Let's not forget that piranhas, the greatest underwater threat in the game, can't be killed.

Okay, so it's not as bad as I'm making it out to be. The Desert Eagle is a fun little toy that doesn't feel as desperate as the Rocket Launcher, but when discussing your somewhat haphazard collection of firearms, let's not forget how important dual wielded weapons are to Lara. Even the vast majority of artwork Ms. Croft has posed for depicts her with the Pistols (the classic mainstay) or the Uzis. Sure, there are others like the one with the Harpoon Gun (laughs), the M16 and Automatic Pistol (which is part of a set) but unlike past adventures, it takes an incredibility long time for majority of your arms to prove their worth, if they ever do at all. That snazzy new shotgun is a great example, the orphan of the group that is never really allowed to come into its own. Such shortfalls are mainly due in part to the “mandatory loss of weaponry” segment that's a part of every Tomb Raider experience. First of all, this was clever the first two times it happened. Now that we've reached part three, it's no longer clever. Second, why do you feel the need to flitch all my ammunition and medi-packs? Like any wise spelunker, I spent most of my time in India conserving my supplies for long haul ahead only to be reminded you can be quite the kleptomaniac when you want to be. What if Nevada was the last area I explored before Antarctica? Thankfully it wasn't, but what about players who aren't so lucky and wind up at the end of the game with a depleted inventory? In all honesty, just admit that the “select adventure” feature is a bust and does nothing to make the game non-linear.

Another illusion masquerading under the guise of freedom is the Save Crystal system. While most of the discontent in this area is more-or-less born out of your indecisiveness throughout the years - three different titles with three different save systems – it's not hard to see how the portable save crystals were viewed as a novel idea. But with every new idea comes (unintended) consequences. With you throwing everything from A to Z at the player, it's not long before life and death paranoia sets in and questions like “how much longer can I press my luck before I screw up and die?” start weighing on the players mind. It rarely takes long to cross that line and when the greatest judge of what's been accomplished - you, the game - fails to gauge the player's progress a certain amount of liberty is lost.

Speaking of liberty, let's get to these massive playgrounds called levels. If the tone of this letter has been any kind of indication thus far, it shouldn't be any surprise that trouble rears its ugly head here as well. Your frills are quickly gunned down by India's flaccid jungles, rigorous waters and lifeless ruins. Now, you may jest at the idea of ruins having any kind of life to them given the definition of the term, but there is a difference between creating something that is lifeless and something that employs lifelessness to create an abstract type of energy. There are small glimpses of this to be seen every once in a while, but it's often derailed by things like redundant backtracks, half-baked vehicle segments, blind jumps, questionable settings (Area 51?!) and contrived boss fights. Unfortunately, this body of problems only fosters disappointment once one realizes the variety presented by your locals is a facade. The London levels may come awfully close to forging their own identity but they eventually fall into the realm of interesting and interesting does not always mean good.

The final hurdle you seem to have trouble clearing is narrative. While none of the Tomb Raider games have had a story built for the ages, there's another concept (similar to the one we talked about when talking about level design) that seems to be lost on you. That concept? Presenting something cliche doesn't necessarily have to feel cliche. In fact, one of the most impressive things one can do is take something that's been done a million and a half times and make it feel like new. Tomb Raider's Natla and Atlanteans did this despite their obvious “been there, done that” vibe. Your own angle, the old “scientist obsessed with evolution being bent on making his ultimate dream a reality” never becomes anything, not even a tongue-in-cheek parody of itself. Adding further insult to injury is the fact Lara seems incapable of learning from past mistakes; working for other people never seems to work out too well for her or the world, does it?

So what does all of this mean? Well, to answer that question, we need to examine what you want people to notice about you. Since we've shot down the majority of additions already, we're left with what these additions were attempting to implement: an increase in challenge. It's a respectable goal given the relative ease of your predecessors, but it's how you get there – by trying to fire on all cylinders at once – that shows us just how ugly Tomb Raider can be. And while Tomb Raider has always had its share of problems, I don't believe anyone thinks this is the answer. Fun is not perpendicular to challenge here and you can't underestimate how important that is to a video game. This isn't to say that a challenging game can't be fun, but it's a slippery slope and the elements you surround it with can't provide enough traction to prevent the fall.

With everything you have to offer now laid bare, I can safely say my time with you was not in vain. This isn't to say it was time well spent, or that every minute of it was enjoyable, but you know the old adage “it could be worse.” Quite honestly, it could be. While there is little comfort in such words, but perhaps we'll run into each other again some day. Not too soon I hope; maybe in another ten to twelve years? Until then, you'll be leaving the light on for me, won't you?

Best Regards,
A PS1 junkie who values other elements over challenge

Third time's the charm. Like most sayings, it's a classic that we use every now and then. The only things that are for certain are death, taxes, and sequels. There's always a sequel, even if it's unjustified. All jesting aside, it may surprise some to know that Mega Man X3 was the sequel that almost never was....

Gazing upon a clipping saved from an old issue of Nintendo power (Volume 78), Greg Ballard, President of Capcom USA, proudly announces the canceled cancellation of Mega Man X3, claiming "Mega Man X3 represents Capcom's commitment to the Super NES... and Mega Man's millions of fans." Despite how tongue-in-cheek that statement sounds now with eight plus games in the series, I can remember how blasphemous the thought of a canceling a Mega Man game sounded to me back then. Unfortunately, as much as I wanted X3, the closest I ever got to it during my childhood was the time I rented it and I proceeded to tromp through it in a single night. Actually, I take that back, it was more like a handful of hours.

That said, one might say that's a good thing. Why fork over sixty to seventy dollars for a game that offers such a short experience? Point taken, but when you're that young you never think about the longevity of your purchases. Even after that brief experience with the game, Mega Man X3 would remain "the forbidden fruit" for years to come. X3 was "the one that got away." Ironically, that long awaited meeting would come to fruition - thirteen years later. Unfortunately, as most know, a lot can change in thirteen years, and when it comes to this particular series, it has. The rest of the narrative pretty much writes itself; even the most devoted fan can become disillusioned with a whole body of work even if only some of it is bad. Of course, there are times where one can find their own truths within such a quagmire. I think I've discovered and accepted my truths with most of the chapters of this convoluted saga, X3 being no exception. So what is that truth? Mega Man X3 may be somewhat more interesting than some of the other games in the series, but it's interesting for all the wrong reasons.

Unlike Mega Man X and X2, the majority of Mega Man X3 was handled by what Keiji Inafune calls "outsiders." As would be expected, all of the game's artwork and character design may have been handled internally, but many other elements where not. Mega Man X3's music, for example, was handled by an outside group called the Minakuchi Engineering Staff. That's not exactly the most revealing piece of information. However, years later, the actual employee (of the Minakuchi Engineering Staff) responsible for the music would be revealed: Kinuyo Yamashita. As it turns out, Yamashita helped compose music of the original Castlevania during her time with Konami, and such a rock-laden approach can be heard here.

So what does Kinuyo's score have to do with the core experience at the heart of X3? Lots. While I'll admit she hits (Gravity Beetle, Toxic Seahorse) as much as she misses (opening intro, capsule theme), the rough texture of her pieces parallels that abstract "edginess" and wreck loose feel that first took hold in Mega Man X2 but was absent from the "clean" original. Once again, there is a real sense of danger to the proceedings that isn't related to the game's difficulty level but is provided by unavoidable, single-entry characters like Bit and Byte (the Nightmare Police), not series mainstays like Sigma and Vile. Also returning from X2 is the concept of cause and effect. Accomplishing certain feats earlier on (mostly defeating or destroying certain adversaries) changes how some things unfold in the second half of the game. It's nothing truly dramatic, a different boss fight or two, or a slightly different ending, but it adds a bit of replay value where it is sorely needed. The rest of the game plays out as one would expect, not broken but not inspiring.

Far from the missing crowning jewel I billed it as in my adolescence this one is purely for the fans. More of the same usually isn't a bad thing when it comes to Mega Man, but then it's nothing to get excited about either. That said I have to cast my vote for the SNES original when compared to the CD-based version released in the Mega Man X Collection. The full-motion videos are nice, but the remixed music simply doesn't gel with graphics from a previous generation. I'm glad that Mega Man X3 managed to find it's way off the drawing board, but in all honesty, it's only because it's the stepping stone that made the series fourth (and perhaps best) installment possible.

1995, maps in the latest Nintendo Power, sixth grade, an upcoming birthday, a short-lived neighborhood rental store, a sleepover party, a seventy dollar price tag and a friend's skull smashed into my living room floor by another guest. The amount of memories triggered by the mere mention of Mega Man X2 is simply staggering. In April of 1995 all I could think about was getting my hands on this cart, continuing the battle against the malicious Mavericks.

Looking back, I can't help but wish I could travel back in time and recapture that magic, that unique combination of patience, desire and blissful ignorance that defines childhood. That ability to not overanalyze anything - and I mean anything - at all. Unfortunately, those days don't last and retrospect and insight eventually crash the party. As much as I enjoyed (and still enjoy) the SNES, I can't say I miss paying ridiculous prices for cartridge based games, although I can certainly question what I was thinking when I shelled out seventy bones for Mega Man X2.

Don't get me wrong. This isn't a case of buyer's remorse that's been festering for fifteen years, but in knowing what I know now, that X2 is the definition of a standard sequel, I can't help but think that money could have been spent on a more captivating gaming experience. Still, given how wise a majority of a child's purchases are, that may be too much to expect of my younger self. Yet with the forethought of the place the game once held in my personal gaming hierarchy, what makes X2 worth hanging onto? The answer is rather surprising....

Gameplay wise, Mega Man X2 is pretty much identical to its predecessor: progress through mostly liner stages collecting heart tanks, sub tanks, and cleverly hidden capsules while maintaining one's health on the way to the area's quote unquote boss. Beat the boss and take their weapon; use those acquired weapons to take advantage of enemy weaknesses in future encounters. After defeating the grunts, take down the kingpin (gee, I wonder who THAT could be?) and save the day.

Okay, so it's a bit more fun than my slapdash explanation is making it sound, but in general X2 only adds a few new wrinkles to what players experienced in the original. The most important of these is the introduction of a group of three Mavericks (it was originally meant to be four but the female member was scraped due to the limits of the Cx4 chip, as was Violen's second form) that call themselves the "X-Hunters." Eventually, the player learns the "unification" is just a fancy term for stealing Zero's parts and slapping him back together so he can get his "revenge" on you for "letting him die."

Black and white as that may seem, the X-Hunters prove to be much more than the key to the game's outcome. While I'll admit I'm not exactly goo-goo gaga over these characters themselves, they do add an element that was missing from the original Mega Man X. That element is danger. Looking back at certain Mavericks in that title, some of them hardly left me quaking in my boots, and in a way that dampened the effect certain moments in that game had on me. This really isn't the case in Mega Man X2, where there is a strange sense of abstract edginess, even dirtiness to everything that fights against the clean feel of the original. Much like the opening cinematic says, "a real war is about to begin" and the kid gloves are off. Even Yuki Iwai's peculiar musical score plays into it as does the immediate sequel Mega Man X3.

As impressive as it is for the series to change it's temperament without utilizing major changes in presentation or game play, the effect can only go so far. Additionally, while I wouldn't want to change the game from its final form, I do have to question the usage of the Cx4 chip and the sacrifices made to utilize it. Mega Man X2 probably would have found a wider audience with a lower retail price and larger print run, something the Cx4 prohibited, and is the reason why carts still fetch a decent amount of cash on the secondary market. Of course, today's prices are about half of what the game went for originally, but the game hasn't held its value for the right reasons.

Taking in all the above into consideration, Mega Man X2 on the SNES is mainly geared towards the true blue and perhaps slightly disillusioned Mega Man fan. Those with a mild interest should steer clear of procuring the actual cart and just find a copy of The Mega Man X Collection for the Gamecube or PlayStation 2. As for this Mega Man fan, while I'm glad I've managed to retain my copy throughout all these years despite my decaying faith in the series, it's far from the trophy I once considered it.

Relationships are a peculiar thing. Much like people, relationships grow, die and cause an unbelievable amount of strife from time to time. It's this triangle of emotions that describes my relationship with Capcom's long running Mega Man X series. Love, hate, I could go on and on for hours why one game is great and another is terrible, why Capcom owes its fan base the sincerest of apologies, and how disillusioned the whole mess has left me. But then I'm sure I don't stand alone. Still, given why I'm here and what entry we're talking about, why bring up the long, huge, gargantuan list of transgressions that would rear their ugly heads in the future?

All the drama aside, the original Mega Man X was all about new possibilities. A new console, a new Mega Man in a different time. A more serious time. Gone is the artwork that made the original series look cute and cuddly, in comes a sobering wave of stone and steel. Items like Heart Tanks and Capsules emulate the basic concept of leveling up like an RPG. The music takes on its iconic, hard-rock approach early on. A powerful adversary, one without a shred of morality or decency, arises unsuspectingly from the forces of good. It's these things and more that define and drive Mega Man X forward.

First of all, let's talk about the additions to the game play. Much like the original Mega Man, X has his own version of the Mega Buster called the X-Buster, which can (initially) charge to two distinct levels. Beyond basic weaponry (and the story-based difference between Mega Man and Mega Man X) X has a few extra tricks up his sleeve. With the wall climb, no longer does not quite making a jump spell doom for Mega Man. When clinging to a wall, X can kick the wall and boost himself up; doing this in quick succession will allow him to scale the wall. Later on, additional power-ups will allow X to perform a forward dash, more or less replacing the slide introduced in Mega Man 3. Combining jumping and dashing (even when clinging to walls) will allow the player to jump even greater distances. Other power-ups hidden and provided by X's creator add things like an extra charge level to the X-Buster, the charging of acquired enemy weapons, the head butting of specific blocks and even the ability to cut the damage inflicted by enemies in half.

Other changes also encourage player exploration. Unlike past Mega Man titles, the gauge representing the life sustaining energy in X's micro-fusion fuel tank doesn't start out equal to that of your enemies. By finding a Heart Tank, X can permanently add two additional units to his health bar. It's true that this approach somewhat limits what challenges you can tackle at a given moment by eroding the possible orders one can complete the stages in, but in hindsight it makes fighting through the stages and bosses less about attrition and more about strategy and planning. This is what eventually robs the game of most of its challenge. Like most, I can remember when things like the last boss gave me trouble, but now, and even after long periods away from the game, it's nothing to come back to it, beat it on one life and not have to use a single Sub-Tank. Because of this, it’s hard to have even the slightest since of fear when encountering some of the Mavericks. I mean who really quakes in their boots when they fight Chill Penguin? Spark Mandrill may look pretty intimidating but once you have the Shotgun Ice he's barely going to move a muscle unless he's lucky enough not to get frozen. Ironically, he's even easier in Maverick Hunter X where the other bosses are actually a bit more challenging.

Difficulty issues aside, Mega Man X makes up for it in just about every other category. Game play that doesn't abandon or throw away what worked before, additions that subtlety add to the experience and aren't blind attempts to find something that sticks, solid graphics, tight game play, great level design, the level affecting level effect, a story that doesn't slop on the drama to inane ends - you name it's done right.

While it's true Mega Man X doesn't take any significant risks with its game play and presentation, there is little doubt that the light touch Capcom took in "upgrading" Mega Man for the next generation of consoles was the right way to go, and it ultimately results in what is perhaps the best introductory title the franchise has ever seen. Unfortunately, while one can expect the standard here to be maintained for the next few games, it does nothing to make X and Zero's eventual, backwards slide into video game hell any easier. All regrets aside, the original Mega Man X is suggested playing for anyone interested in the SNES and platforming, while the two immediate sequels are only recommended for die-hard fans.

When it comes to RPG's, all I know is I've had my fill. In the late 90's with the PlayStation in full swing, it almost seemed like every other game coming out was an RPG, much like how every other game today is a first person shooter. As mindless as the later appears to be anymore, genres have their time and place, and time has taught me what I once considered a goldmine was no different. Memories fade, reality crashes the party yet fanboys continue to place games on pedestals.

It's those pedestals that I want to talk about. No, I'm not going to go on an anti-FF7, Xenogears rant here, but rather a Lunar rant. Lunar might have been hot in 1992 on the Sega CD - a system that practically no one had/has - but by the time it reached the PS1 in Silver Star Story Complete in 1999, I had no idea what the fuss was about. Sure, the game was loaded for bear with superficial extras - a cloth map, hardback manual, soundtrack CD and new full motion videos - but game was stuck in the past. Really, what was so magical about this game? What did others see that I couldn't? Ten plus years later, picking up a copy of Lunar: Silver Star Harmony at a local game store, I asked myself that question again.

Before we get into what Harmony brings to the table, let's talk a bit about classics. The back of the case tells me this is one of the "best adventures of all time." Well, that statement is full of itself much like a Rhapsody of Fire press release. Now, I would be much more apt to believe this if it said this was "one of the best adventures of it's time" which, if we just cut through all the crap, means that it's probably more of a "personal classic" to those who played it in 1992 than anything else, much like how Wild Arms became one of my "personal classics" back in 1997. Still, do I go around billing Wild Arms as one of the "greatest adventures of all time"? No, and, quite simply I don't because it isn't true. I loved Wild Arms, and I still do, but I also like to keep things in perspective, which is something advertising can rarely do.

So beyond the above, how does Wild Arms factor in to what Harmony has to offer? Well, in a nutshell, Lunar: Silver Star Harmony is what Alter code:F could have, should have been to the original Wild Arms. In Alter code:F, Media Vision disregarded a lot of what the original version of it's product offered when it "upgraded" (yeah, "upgraded," that's charitable; more like "retrofit") the game play to what was introduced in the tiresome Wild Arms 3. Harmony, on the other hand, retains what works and ditches what didn't. Those wretched dungeon designs? Gone. That archaic inventory system? Goodbye. The extremely low sampled soundtrack? Fixed. The only real problem I ran into was the game allowing me to invest an infinite amount of time in a battle that could not be won. Seriously, just make the boss smite me into the ground like in Silver Star Story Complete so we can get on with it.

Still, as impressive as this version is in comparison to the previous two (outside the voice acting), at the end of the day, this is still Lunar, and all the problems that accompany Lunar's narrative still exist. Actually, thanks to the new prologue, many of Lunar's worst kept secrets are now out in the open even more than before, and that's saying something. The game's dialogue is still extremely well written (outside the whole "we're on an adventure - yay!" thing) but is limited by personalities that don't exactly pop off the screen - at least at first. While the game seems a bit brisker this time around, a bit too much time is wasted in battle announcing attacks (the quicker the battles are in a game such as this the better) and there's some balance issues surrounding the new arts attacks (Luna's is godly) but the game is much better off with them than without.

Despite the fact the PSP is already port/remake city, Lunar: Silver Star Harmony is one of the better efforts out there despite how limited its game play can be. While I can't say I've discovered what makes it so special in the eyes of some, I can say I'm closer to the answer than I was before. Still, despite the fact it's incredibly easy to tear down anything Lunar tries to boast about, this probably is the definitive version of this "personal classic," and if you haven't played it there is no better time than now.

In 1983, Def Leppard released the classic rock song “Too Late for Love.” Despite how perfectly that song describes my current feelings towards the dismal fate that awaited the conclusion of the Mega Man X series, I know that singer Joe Elliott couldn't have been singing about Capcom's failings given the series first brick wouldn't be laid until a decade later. So, that said, when we get right down to it, is Maverick Hunter X a nice remake? Definitely, I couldn't imagine telling anyone anything otherwise. Still, nothing short of a case of amnesia can make me forget that Mega Man X5 was mediocre, X6 was cash-in garbage, X7's 3D wrote a check it’s tush couldn't cash and that X8 stuck out in bottom of the ninth in the storyline department. Indeed, it is too late for love and the curtain has definitely fallen.

However, such painful chapters aside, Mega Man: Maverick Hunter X is yet another in a long line of solid remakes for the PSP. I'm not as under whelmed as that last sentence makes me out to be but there really isn't that much to say. If you liked the original, you'll be right at home here. I love how even subtle changes (mainly the rearrangement of the capsules) changes the true and tired path I've relied on for years to get through the original, and it's nice to see that some of the bosses (like Storm Eagle and Armored Armadillo) have been made a bit more challenging. Unfortunately, that last part that doesn't always hold true. There are several occasions where the game is actually easier than the original when set on normal difficulty. Why would you make a boss like Spark Mandrill an even bigger pushover, allowing him to be frozen with every shot of the Shotgun Ice? Same goes for the last boss who’s been even given a new (and insanely pointless) attack, and don’t even get me started on how deadly the overdone knock-back from enemy attacks can be.

As small as such follies are everything eventually comes back to the storyline and the unlockable “The Day of Sigma” video. Given that the only back-story the original had to go on was passages from Dr. Cain's journal in the instruction manual, The Day of Sigma offers a treasure-trove of information on how the conflict between the mavericks and humans started. It's great to have some more narrative to chew on, but adding to the vast list of inconsistencies that plague the series canon at this point is unwise. On another, somewhat related note, why are some the in-game animations almost comical in nature? X's running animation, Launch Octopus' hit animation and Bospider's landing animations make me think twice about the X series being more serious in nature than original series.

If all the above wasn't enough, the biggest question Mega Man: Maverick Hunter X raises is why did Capcom feel a remake was necessary in the first place? I recently replayed Mega Man X on the SNES late last year and – to no surprise – it's held up extremely well over the years, much more than its two immediate successors. Unlike Lunar: Silver Star Harmony where another whirl helped change my opinion about the underlying product to a certain degree, this take does little to enhance or dilute my thoughts on the experience at its core. In other words, the time spent updating this classic could have been spent doing something much more productive. Then again, given the state of creativeness in the world of video games today maybe not.

Despite the contempt I hold for some things Mega Man, I know I can't hold Maverick Hunter X responsible for the sins of its successors, which are technically its forbearers in this case. Unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately – this doesn't change the fact it really didn't need to be remade, nor do any of its sequels. The game is worth nabbing and adding to your collection if you can get a good deal on it, just be aware that it's still a shallow product despite being an enhanced version of a SNES classic.

Video games come and go. While some games retain their luster well beyond their initial release, others suffer short, uncelebrated ends. Sometimes the two are one in the same; an acclaimed title devouring a soon-to-be-forgotten relic. Its titles like these that gather dust in our closets and under our beds; it’s one of these titles I’d like to talk about today: Battle Arena Toshinden.

To anyone familiar with one-on-one fighters, the reason for Toshinden’s fall was obvious: superior competition. As a launch title for the PS1 and eventually a system pack-in, Battle Arena Toshinden represented new possibilities. Sure, it wasn’t the first three-dimensional fighter out there but it was responsible for bringing it to a whole new audience. So what went wrong? As bright and shiny as Toshinden was it revolved around the simple exchange of blows and little else. Missing were the combos and juggles that late, two-dimensional fighters thrived on. Such omissions would become detrimental when Tekken and Virtual Fighter 2 showed up while Battle Arena Toshinden 2 hacked away at the same old game. Backed into a corner, could Toshinden evolve and survive?

Yes and no. Battle Arena Toshinden 3 would contain the elements its successor skimped out on, but it was too late; products like Capcom’s Star Gladiator and Namco’s Soul Blade easily eclipsed what it had to offer. Faced with the dire reality, the series would see one last entry in Europe and Japan (there was also a Wii entry released solely in Japan) before fading away. As simple as the story seems, there were other factors involved in Toshinden’s decline. While the game wasn’t a testament to graphical prowess, the first entry actually looked better than its predecessors. The more detailed Toshinden tried to get the uglier it became. Sure, the third game could blaze at sixty frames per second but once your character models start looking like Legos you’re only putting off the inevitable.

Still, in many ways the original Battle Arena Toshinden had more to offer by offering less. Really, can anyone look at Toshinden 3’s extended roster and not laugh at some of those lame abortions called characters? Now reflect back on the original cast from the first game. Looks a lot better in comparison, doesn't it? Okay, so every character from Eiji to Ellis fits into some prefabricated character mold, but at least you can forge some kind of affection for them despite the cliches. As endearing as the roster is, there's another area that has stood the test of time: the music. From the drum rolls heard when battling Kayin to the teasing synthesizers in Duke’s stage, Makato Mukai and Yasuhiro Nakano’s themes do their part in forging the characters personalities, Eiji and Sofia's themes dripping with a favor that is undeniably Toshinden.

As painful as Battle Arena Toshinden’s backwards slide into video game hell was, I’m sure there are those who look back on the original as fondly as I do. While the game proves there is a vast difference between the games that introduce an experience and those that provide one for the ages, it doesn't mean its place in video game history should be ignored. That said, for two dollars and ninety-five cents you could certainly do worse.