It’s time for another Subspace Brief Facts! I don’t know if there’s much else to say about Snake Rattle ‘N Roll other than “it looks great and it’s annoyingly difficult” – but somehow I squeezed a five minute video out of this! Enjoy!
This post is more than a bit late… behold! My tribute to the insanity that is video pinball:
Over the years, I have amassed quite aof video pinball games. Even though I’m not much of a pinball player, I’m a huge fan of the genre, and I’ve long wanted to do a retrospective on the legendary Alien Crush.
Alien Crush game was the visual centerpiece of the TurboGrafx-16 when it was released. It was one of those games that made you think “I want this system.” However, being a pinball game, it doesn’t make for terribly compelling gameplay footage – at the end of the day, it’s just pinball.
I decided to bolster the video by adding additional pinball games. As I browsed through my library, I began to notice a pattern of… uh… “heavy metal absurdity.” A video pinball game relies quite heavily on the theme applied to its table(s) – if you’re working with a decent physics model and table design, that’s really about all that separates one game from the other. I found myself increasingly amused at the “edgy” nature of the themes developers chose; many games from the early 1990s just seem like they were designed to upset parents. In a word, they were SWEET.
So, with that in mind, I took inspiration from one of my favorite NES commercials:
I thought it would be fun to just go full sensory overload – inundate the viewer with over the top nonsense as rapidly as I could. If nothing else, I think I accomplished that goal.
FUN FACT: I had originally recorded footage from the TG-16 version of Devil’s Crush. Unfortunately, due to some hardware issues, I wasn’t able to capture it in RGB, and I wasn’t happy with how it looked next to the rest of the footage. As such, what you see in the video is actually from Devil’s Crush MD: the Japanese Genesis version of the same game. Here’s the video of the TG-16 version if you’re interested.
Catch you later, pinball wizards!
I’m in the process of throwing together a piece on video pinball. Rare’s 1988 NES port of Pinbot didn’t quite make the cut. It plays like garbage, but that seemless split screen effect is something else. Rare really knew how to push the hardware!
Also, the main theme is completely wicked… So I ripped it for your enjoyment.
Stay tuned for more pinball goodness!
It’s difficult to cover something that’s been done to death, but I’ve always wanted to do something on Symphony of the Night. Hopefully I’ve provided something somewhat new and original by exploring a very specific aspect of the Saturn version of Dracula X: Nocturne in the Moonlight– the ability to play as Maria Renard. Enjoy!
You’ll also note that there’s a decent amount of footage from Dracula X: Rondo of Blood for the PC Engine. Here’s some fun little gifs I ripped from that game while recording:
And here’s Maria and Richter’s’s official concept art, which can be found on the Saturn disc:
And because I’m such a (tragic) prince, here’s the audio for the music used in the video:
As usual, the game was played through a Framemeister. I used Chris Genthe’s upscaler settings – you can find all of his videos here. I’ve embedded his Saturn video below:
I’m a big fan of Chris’ settings for 1080p output. Give them a shot!
On a somewhat sad note, you will also see that this video is dedicated to the beloved memory of my recently departed corgi, Gizmo. Among many other things, Gizmo was my “games dog” whenever I had to verify shipment of Saturn imports, I’d always try to make the photo more entertaining by throwing in Gizmo.
He was one of my best pals. He’ll be missed.
When I turned 30, a good friend of mine provided me with an old Magnavox Odyssey 300 – one of the finest pong machines of its day. It’s one of the more thoughtful gifts I’ve ever received.
Remarkably, despite the condition of the box, the system inside still worked perfectly.
The stickers had bubbled up a little, and the plastic had picked up a little bit of grime over the years, but it worked like a charm. It STILL works like a charm, 40 years after its original manufacture. They REALLY don’t build them like they used to.
Like most systems of its vintage, the Odyssey 300 is designed to be hooked up to an antenna-based CRT television. Crazy to think, but cable TV was far from commonplace at the time of the Odyssey 300’s release.
What you see above is most commonly referred to as a “TV/game switch” – At least that’s what we called it in my home back in the ’80s. The screws you see at the top of the picture are where you would affix the leads that come in from the antenna. You would then take the leads that come out on the right and hook them in to the back of your ol’ boob tube. When you wanted to do some gaming, you’d flip the switch to “game,” and the console would then “broadcast” over one of your TV channels (usually channel 2, 3 or 4). In the image above, you’ll note that the switch is hooked up to a simple adapter, which allows it to be plugged into the coax/CATV port on the back of a modern TV.
Despite its age, the Odyssey 300 works just fine on a modern flat panel display – at least it worked fine on my 6-year-old 20″ Vizio LCD. Through the use of a cheap RF booster from radioshack, I was able to amplify the signal and get rid of much of the static. The result is more than playable – probably on par with what you would have experienced back in 1976.
So playing and enjoying the Odyssey 300 is fairly straightforward – much easier than I expected out of a console 6-years my senior. But, like any good retrogaming enthusiast, I was not satisfied. I had to know: could I pointlessly upscale this thing to 1080p?
That right there is Micomsoft’s XRGB Mini – the Framemeister. It’s what I use to upscale all of the retro console footage you see on this site. Long story short, it takes video signals from old consoles, upscales them to your desired resolution, and outputs a nice clean signal over HDMI. Basically, it makes old game systems look crisp and clear on modern televisions. The Odyssey 300 looks fine without any upscaling, but I thought it would be neat to see if I could bring Magnavox’s old dinosaur into the HD era.
One slight problem, though: the Framemeister doesn’t have an input for coaxial cable. I had to get the Odyssey’s signal to output over standard composite/RCA cables.
Enter my parents’ old VCR. The Panasonic Omnivision. Behold its “VCR Plus” functionality. Truly a titan of its era.
Being a high quality VCR from 1995, the Omnivision is more than equipped to take video input over a coax cable and output it over composite cables. All I had to do was just hook the TV/game switch into the VCR, run a single yellow cable to the Framemeister, set the tuner to channel 3, and I was ready to rock. There are probably more elegant ways to accomplish this, but I wasn’t about to spend any money on this experiment. Besides, getting a VCR involved in the mix only made this experiment far more ludicrous/fun.
Boom. So there you have it. That there is the Framemeister’s menu over top of an Odyssey 300 screen, upscaled to 1080p. But I wasn’t done yet. Nope, not by a long shot.
With recent firmware updates, the Framemeister has gained the ability to place colored overlays atop its video output. Presumptively, this is to be utilized with old arcade games, like, say, Space Invaders, which output a black and white image, but utilized colored gels to create the illusion of color.
Using the Framemeister, I could replicate this effect on the Odyssey, and give it a fresh injection of all of the colors of the test pattern rainbow.
The Framemeister allows for up to 7 “strips,” which can be oriented horizontally or vertically, and set to variable widths. Utilizing just three overlays, I was able to divide the “tennis” court into two colors, divided by a nice red center line. No longer would anybody be confused about which white paddle was theirs!
By playing around with the zoom setting a little bit, I was able to get the image to more or less fit the 16:9 aspect ratio of my display.
Experimenting with a few more overlays, I was able to get each paddle to appear as as a distinct color while giving the playfield a little bit more of a “tennis court” look. Unparalleled realism!
But wait, there’s more! The Odyssey 300 could do more than just pong, it also had…
Hockey! Hockey is more or less the same as pong, but each player controls a “forward” and a “goalie.” Using the overlays, I was able to make it clear which paddle belonged to each player. But the fun doesn’t stop with hockey, oh no.
Racquetball! Racquetball, again, is basically the same as pong, but both players occupy the same side of the court. With the aid of the overlays, it’s like you don’t even have to get up and go to the country club!
If you watched the video at the beginning of this post, you may have noted the lack of in-game audio. That’s because the Odyssey itself outputs nothing but horrid white noise. The game audio (little more than a few bleeps and bloops) emanates from a speaker in the Odyssey itself, rendering it uncapturable – at least for purposes of this exercise. The excellent music you hear in the video is the product of Rob E. Cohen, the very same friend who gave me Odyssey.
So there you have it: with a little bit of ingenuity, a fancy-ass upscaler and an old VCR, you can turn even the oldest of consoles into a colorized, high-definition destroyer. I don’t know if I’ll ever buy another sports game again. Color your world, people.
Time Killers made such a indelible mark on my pre-teen brain, I felt it warranted a Brief Facts as well:
Time Killers was released in late ’92, meaning I didn’t encounter it at TK’s until the summer of ’93 – a time when fighting games ruled the roost, and arcades were populated with angry, clove-smoking, Nirvana-loving teenagers. It was a wonderful place to be a chubby 11-year-old.
Co-op games like Crime Fighters hadn’t vanished, but their numbers were dwindling. If you wanted to make the most out of your time in an arcade, you HAD to learn how to play fighting games. Street Fighter II had changed arcades forever, for good or for ill.
I positively LOVED fighting games. When the home port of SFII dropped in June of 1992, I played it into the ground. Damn near mastered it. However, those skills never quite made a clean transition to the arcade. Not because I was outclassed by the competition, mind you, but because I was SCARED.
It feels odd to have to explain this, but the arcades of the ’90s were not the family fun centers you see today. In fact, to my 11-year-old brain, they kind of resembled the future from Terminator: constant loud noises, dim lights, frowning faces leaning against every possible surface, and smoke everywhere. They were probably nowhere NEAR that bad, but damn if they didn’t FEEL just a little bit dangerous. I fully acknowledge that I was a little chickenshit, but hey, this is my story, so BACK OFF PAL.
Anyway, rolling up to a fighting game in ’92 meant (1) you were going to pay $.50 for a credit, and (2) you were going to get challenged by an angst-ridden teenager in a matter of moments. The fear of losing my hard-earned allowance to some hormonally imbalanced high schooler in a Megadeth t-shirt caused me to fold under pressure. How could I beat a kid who was a foot taller than me at ANYTHING? Even if I could win, would it get me beat up? Intimidation was in the air.
But Time Killers helped fix all that. No, not because its excessive gore exposed me to the horrors of the world and gave me the steely resolve of a grizzled veteran – but I’m sure that didn’t hurt. Time Killers helped me conquer my arcade fears because I just happened to be the first person at TK’s to figure out its (admittedly simple) control scheme.
As noted in the video, killing somebody in Time Killers is INCREDIBLY easy. All you do is slam all 5 attack buttons. If your opponent isn’t blocking, their head will fly off and you’ll win the match in seconds.
Through dumb luck, I somehow figured this little trick out about 3 days before everyone else at TK’s did, including many angry and family members. Sorry, cousin Rob! For a few glorious days in the summer of ’93, I was the absolute KING of Time Killers. My competition jitters evaporated as I racked up the cheap wins.
To my surprise, however, the rest of the world took this extremely well. A few folks complained, but most just calmly walked away. Some even shook my hand. Nobody threatened to beat me up (which is remarkable, because credits weren’t cheap, and any threat would have caused my pansy ass to yield control of the machine immediately). It was then I came to realize that maybe I had been taking this whole thing just a little bit too seriously. Video games were just video games, and arcade-goers were just normal people. Foul-mouthed teenage people, but people nonetheless. Some of them were actually pretty cool. As long as you didn’t run your mouth, you had just about nothing to fear.
For that reason, I’ll always remember Time Killers as the game that got me over the hump. It’s how I learned how to perform under arcade pressure, and on a broader level, it taught me a little something about how to relax in uncomfortable social situations.
So there you have it folks. Violent video games build character and teach life lessons. Suck it, organized athletics, and TAKE THAT JOE LIEBERMAN.
…come to think of it, though, had I been on the receiving end of those cheap decapitations, this game could have just as easily made me swear off arcade games forever. Makes ya’ think.
Also the makers of Time Killers went on to design Golden Tee Golf, which may well be the world’s most popular arcade game. Look it up.
This is NHL almost-legend Tim Kerr:
Best-known for his 11 seasons (1980-1991) with the Philadelphia Flyers, Tim Kerr was a force to be reckoned with on the power play. In fact, as of this writing, Tim Kerr still holds the single-season record for power play goals: back in the ’85-’86 season he picked up 34. The only person to come REMOTELY close in recent history is Ilya Kovalchuk, who racked up 27 goals in the ’05-’06 season. To hold ANY record that long in modern professional sports is truly a commendable feat. ALL HAIL KING KERR, LONG MAY HE REIGN!
Despite being a lifelong Flyers fan, though, when I think of Tim Kerr, I don’t think of hockey. I think of VIDEO GAMES.
What you are looking at there is a lovely watercolor of TK’s Seafood and Crab House in Avalon, New Jersey. I would have loved to post an actual picture, but the place is gone – has been for over a decade now (though Tim Kerr still maintains a powerful presence in the Jersey Shore area). While TK’s was an excellent place get your crab on, that’s not why I look back on it fondly.
That’s the good stuff right there! You see, Mr. Kerr had the good sense to shove an arcade in the basement of his restaurant. Why waste your money on sea food that your child’s unsophisticated palette won’t even come close to appreciating? Just send them to the basement for 45 minutes while you get sensibly hammered. Now that’s what I call power play parenting!
I’m not sure if that arcade actually had a name, but it might as well have been called “here’s 20 bucks, try to be home by 10.” It’s where I spent many summer vacation nights as a kid, and it’s where some of my first memories of video games were formed. So, please, indulge me a bit as I wax nostalgic. Let’s quarter up and cruise down memory lane.
The first game I remember when I think of TK’s is Konami’s Crime Fighters. Crime Fighters is really a game of its era – and that era is the latest of the late ’80s. The introduction really tells you everything you need to know:
Those are some high stakes there. In most games, you just have to rescue one dude’s girlfriend. Crime Fighters isn’t messing around: its corpulent antagonist seems to have kidnapped ALL the ladies. At least 9, if we’re going by the number of Polaroids on the table. If that doesn’t get you motivated to go on a hot-blooded vigilante rampage, you or your parents probably voted for Dukakis.
Any guy crazy enough to kidnap that many ladies undoubtedly has a considerably large private army of faceless goons. But don’t worry: you’ll have backup. As you may have noticed, Crime Fighters is a FOUR-PLAYER GAME. And the cabinet… it was just glorious:
Crime Fighters definitely was not the first four-player arcade game; not by a long shot. But it IS the first four-player cabinet I remember seeing out there in the wild, and damn if it didn’t blow my 7-year-old mind. Just looking it takes me back to a simpler and more honest time; a time when the word “punk” meant “violent maniac with a switchblade,” and not “hipster with a mohawk.” It’s like the designers based their entire perception of urban crime in America off of Crocodile Dundee 2. And it’s great.
The four-player limit meant that I could team-up with my older brothers and cousins without getting in the way, and back then, that was more than enough for me. I was just happy to play with the big kids! And it’s a good thing I’ve held on to those memories… because Crime Fighters is just an absolutely terrible and brutally difficult game.
Aside from the thrill of teaming up with four buddies to clean up the streets, Crime Fighters has just about nothing else going for it. It has all the visual trappings of a great arcade beat-em up: legions of colorful enemies, a diverse arsenal of special weapons, and enough urban decay to start a Christian panic. Unfortunately, there’s not much under the hood: hit detection is terrible, the AI has no qualms about sticking you in an endless hitstun, and you’re constantly over-matched and outgunned. Playing with a full compliment of four players is, perhaps, the ONLY way to have fun with Crime Fighters.
If you watched through to the end, you may have noticed that the good folks at Konami might have watched more than Crocodile Dundee 2 before coding this bad boy. Crime Fighters is filled with all kinds of legally questionable inspiration!
Behold! Hatless Freddy Krueger!
Not quite Jason Vorhees!
And, I would be completely remiss if I didn’t point out Crime Fighters’ most egregious sin – the way it shamelessly pits players against each other in a naked money grab! If at least two players are standing at the end of a stage, the game “rewards” you with the opportunity to beat one another up.
While this can be fun, it leads to nothing but profound sadness and lost quarters. I still remember when my brother Dave figured out the con: “DON’T! That’s what the machine WANTS us to do!”
So Crime Fighters is a terrible game. Despite its faults, though, I can’t help but look back on it with fondness. There was something magical about pulling up to that giant, colorful cabinet with your family and friends and beating up on punks until you ran out of cash. It was a spectacle, an event – it was hot trash, but even a dumpster fire can be fun to stare at with the right people by your side. Crime Fighters had one great thing going for it: it was always more fun with friends.
And also its incredibly creepy ending screen:
This one was a doozy! Deep Fear is one I’ve been meaning to play for a while, so I figured it would make a great installment for the 10th Brief Facts!
As you’ll be able to tell from the video, I played through the Japanese version of Deep Fear. While all the text is in Japanese, it’s not too difficult to fumble your way through the game; your objectives are fairly straightforward. Notably, all the voice acting in English. Hilariously awful English. It’s like they got their American accounting interns to do all the VO in one take.
I also think this game has the most righteous Engrish tag line ever:
“Hereafter we will have desperate days with nowhere to escape.” Why even bother trying, then, one wonders.
I’ll update this post in the coming days with some more media. In the meantime, enjoy this charming misspelling:
Thanks for watching – and to all you videophiles out there, sorry about the jailbars!
At least I got to play this on HD thanks to my beautiful new Analogue NT? If I never play this game again it will be too soon… but it’s an interesting historical footnote, so WATCH THE VIDEO. This project was like jumping in front of a bullet that was aimed at no one… but I am happy with the end result!
Like Ultima: Quest of the Avatar, Eye of the Beholder was one of those games I just couldn’t wrap my brain around as a young kid. Released in 1991 for DOS PCs and the Commodore Amiga, EOTB was an early first-person dungeon crawler which iterated ever-so-slightly on the the formula established by FTL Games’ Dungeon Master. What, precisely, does that mean, you ask? Well, let me spell it out for you.
In EOTB, you control a squad of up to six heroes on a quest to save the city of Waterdeep from the evil machinations of a beholder named Xanathar. A beholder is kind of like a Madball with a whole bunch of antennae-eyes. As sinister eyeball monsters are wont to do, Xanathar has set up shop in a secret lair deep within the city’s sewers, which, coincidentally, are inhabited by a slew of spider-worshiping purple elves, malevolent bird people and sinister toad men. Kill them all, find your way out, end of story.
While EOTB utilizes a first-person perspective, movement is restricted to a tile-based grid. Don’t expect any fancy modern conveniences like “scrolling” here – Wolfenstein 3D was about a year and a half off. You move and turn your party of heroes by clicking on set of directional icons on the game’s HUD. If you’re used to contemporary first-person camera controls, this can be more than a little jarring, as the sudden perspective changes make it very easy to become disoriented. Back in in 1991, though, getting disoriented was what they called a “feature.” You just sort of assumed you’d have to make a map when you played an RPG, so it was a forgivable offense.
Despite its tile-based movement, the action in EOTB plays out in something resembling real time. This means you’ve got to keep your party moving, reacting and attacking at a decent clip, lest they be ripped to shreds; playing the game effectively requires you to nimbly navigate a series of dense (though not unintuitive) menus in the middle of tense situations. Additionally, as its trappings suggest, EOTB is an Advanced Dungeons & Dragons licensed product. This means it reaps the benefits (and occasionally suffers from the quirks of) a well-defined tabletop RPG rule set. Characters can only act a certain number of times in any given “round” of combat, they can only attack with melee weapons if they’re in your front ranks, and spells must be re-memorized after every use.
You can even die of hunger. Seriously – you could quite legitimately argue that “Create Food” is the most powerful spell in the game. In short, EOTB is kind of like playing an actual game of AD&D with a DM who just won’t chill out and wait for you to respond before giving into his thinly veiled god-complex, because GOD DAMMIT DAVE, I JUST NEEDED TO GO TO THE BATHROOM YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO LET THAT TROLL KILL MY CLERIC. CHRIST.
*Ahem.* Sorry about that. Anyway, if that description even comes close to tickling your fancy, I’d give EOTB a shot. And, if you have access to a Mega Mouse (or some questionable gray market alternative), I’d strongly suggest you do what I did, and play the 1994 Sega CD port. The gameplay is all but identical, and graphically, it’s at least on par with its PC and Amiga counterparts. Hell, the addition of cinema sequences may actually give it a leg up.
But screw the graphics, man. The Sega CD port of EOTB has one thing its source material was sorely lacking: a soundtrack. A glorious, redbook audio soundtrack from legendary game music composer Yuzo Koshiro. While EOTB is not one of Koshiro’s more well-known soundtracks, I’d put it right up there with his work on the Streets of Rage series and ActRaiser. Despite the fact that Koshiro’s EDM-inspired style seems wholly ill-matched to the AD&D license, it somehow manages to be a perfect fit for the haunting isolation of EOTB’s labyrinths. It’s not unlike that time your party’s thief got really into electronic music and demanded that you STOP LISTENING TO POWER METAL FOR FIVE GOD DAMN MINUTES OR ELSE HE WAS TAKING HIS MINIATURES BACK UP THE STREET.
Uh, anyway… here it is in its entirety:
Like Gain Ground SX, EOTB for the Sega CD is noteworthy in that it’s a port that, in many ways, outshines its source material. Regardless, I feel the need to qualify my praise by again noting that you shouldn’t bother playing this game without a Mega Mouse. Simply put, it’s far too much of a chore to navigating the game’s multi-tiered menus with a gamepad is far too cumbersome. you’d be better off playing the PC original.
Should you decide to give EOTB a shot, I hope you’ll accept the following images of the in-game dungeon maps as a parting gift. While EOTB does require you to actually find its maps before you you can access them, they take an annoyingly long time to load on the Sega CD’s single speed disc drive; an external image is an extremely useful convenience. Use them in good health, but try not to deprive yourself of the joy of getting lost – finding your way is half the fun.
For optimal enjoyment, we here at Subspace Briefcase recommend that you play Eye of the Beholder in a dark basement after several dateless weeks. It increases the authenticity of the experience.