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I consider Delta to be the finest entry in Irem's classic series, indeed I obviously rate it among the greatest shmups of all time. It was fated to be overlooked somewhat, being exclusive to the Playstation meant it never got the arcade exposure it's famous predecessors did, and finding a home on a machine whose primary purpose seemed to be the delivery of true 3D games meant that it got pretty much ignored in the west.
There's a wonderfully scrappy, chaotic feel to Delta, partly through the Playstation's slightly wonky visuals and partly because of the sheer amount of stuff going on. That doesn't stop it being a very attractive game though - the multitudes of effects and superbly animated enemies are a treat. There are great touches such as the music changing to a muffled version as you head underwater on level 2, or the POV changing around sometimes to give a dramatic entrance to a level or enemy.
Naturally it's tough as old boots, but it does a lot to ease the pain of the player. For example you can't crash into scenery, and restart points are thoughtfully placed in order for you to quickly build up a decent offense. There is also a small selection of ships to choose from (foreshadowing R-Type Final's bewildering array), each with their own twist on the Force / Charge Shot. A chargeable smart-bomb type weapon rounds out the new additions.
Unfortunately Irem pushed the brand further with the mediocre Final, when Delta would have been a truly magnificent send-off for the series.
Thrust Xtreme is a perfect remake. Not only does it take the original game and iron out the creaky elements, it also adds extra levels and a level editor to boot. All this and it's completely free.
The wireframe vector graphics have been given a lovely glowing effect, and of course everything is a smooth as silk. The control of the ship is spot-on, everything from rotation speed to thrust power pitched perfectly. It's an absolute dream to play and proves beyond doubt that beauty can lie in simplicity.
As a game it's already a long-established classic of tight control and delicate maneouvres, each successive level a little more demanding than the last. Somehow it never frustrates though, and it invites repeat plays purely through its satisfying feel.
What's not to love about Puyo Puyo? This long-running series has appeared on many platforms and with many little tweaks here and there, and to be honest they're all pretty great but I've played the second one more than any.
I like the forward-planning element of it, which sets it apart from its obvious comparison, Tetris. In Puyo Puyo it's not enough to simply clear blobs off the screen. Because you're competing directly with an opponent it's vital that you plan ahead to unleash combos in order to drop trash blobs onto your opponent's stack. Of course they're trying to do the same to you. There's a clearly defined objective to it that makes it for me a little more enjoyable to play than Tetris - which basically amounts to hanging on until things become unplayable. Puyo Puyo is full of genuine character and amusing visuals, and who can deny the cuteness of those little blobs?
Freespace 2 is my 3D space combat game of choice, and it's serious stuff. There's a real weight to the whole affair, exemplified by the wonderfully-voiced mission briefings, and actually piloting the various spacecraft through the missions is a pretty demanding business.
Starting out as a rookie pilot transferred to a new squadron, the player becomes embroiled in a complex plot that plays over a number of intense combat missions. Events unfold before your eyes as part of the action, and dialogue crackles over the radio throughout. It's one of the most immersive game experiences out there.
In its basic form the game is very attractive and still holds up today, but with it being open-source now there is a very active modding community, and the whole game can be upgraded visually and aurally. The results are amazing and set it comfortably alongside any contemporary space game. I've never played any other space combat game with such a believable feel, especially when the action really hots up and you're amid dozens of swarming ships. It's true white-knuckle stuff.
A classic case of Nintendo doing something perfectly right first time and everyone since making futile attempts to top or even match it (including Nintendo themselves).
Stepping into this 3D world for the first time was a gobsmacking moment. So completely new and yet within minutes everything was second nature. I found myself adapting to the demands of this new gameplay environment without any trouble at all. The whole game seems to have been designed to minimise the kind of problems we still associate with 3D platformers to this day. I never found myself frustrated with the camera, or falling to my death because I couldn't tell which way I was facing.
The world of Super Mario 64 is rich and varied and filled with secrets, but they're the kind of secrets you'll instinctively uncover. Of course you're going to try to catch that rabbit running around the basement, and you're going to try firing yourself all over the levels with the cannons, just to see what's up at the places you can't climb to. You're going to dive down and explore the moat... Super Mario 64 rewards exploration, it knows the kind of things players will try and it almost invariably provides some reward for doing so. Every level branching off from the castle provides a new and different challenge and environment, but my favourites have to be the 'Bowser' levels - classic Super Mario platform gameplay sprung into 3D like a pop-up book. I dream of Nintendo making a new Mario game that consists entirely of levels like that.
Played today it's still completely solid, and its cartoony visuals help an awful lot in that. By keeping things visually simple it outlives the vast majority of games on the N64. Super Mario 64 is one of the fledgling 3D games that will always look good, no matter how much things move on.
Captain Blood draws you in with its plain weirdness and keeps you hooked by being a surprisingly deep and compelling adventure (and it's ultimately not as weird as you first think - it just has a very unique presentation).
The basic(!) premise of the game is that Captain Blood - a game designer working under a pseudonym - has been sucked into his own creation and split into 30 clones. He has to travel the galaxy searching for them before he deteriorates out of existence (he needs to reabsorb the clones to make himself complete again). Over the past 800 years he's managed to track down 25 of the clones and it's now up to the player to help him locate the last 5. To do this he has to make friendly contact with a number of alien individuals and learn the co-ordinates of the planets where he'll find them.
The most memorable and striking part of the game is the contact with the alien races. Communications are carried out through a series of icons which represent emotions, ideas, threats, requests, etc. and can be strung together to form basic sentences. In this way Blood can coerce the contacts into aiding him in his quest. As he deteriorates over time, Blood's onscreen hand (the player cursor) becomes more and more unstable.
I don't think I really appreciated it fully back when I first owned it for the ST - I just tended to enjoy the planetfall sequences and blow planets up, but over the years its appeal to me has grown enormously. There are some rather lavish hyperspace and planet-destruction effects, and my favourite part of all - piloting a probe down to the surface of a planet - is done in a fast wireframe fractal style.
Captain Blood is one of those games that just oozes atmosphere and completely pulls you in, but there's also plenty of game in there to get your teeth stuck into. Truly unique stuff.
Squaresoft's finest hour on the SNES, Secret of Mana is to me the perfect action RPG. Gorgeous visuals, a stunning soundtrack, a quick and intuitive menu system and best of all a fluid and dynamic combat system. It even has a multiplayer option for co-op gaming.
Secret of Mana kept me hooked for a good while back in the day. I believe it was the last game I bought new for the Super Nintendo, before moving on to the next generation. It was a beautiful swansong to a happy few years with the system. Square has since pillaged the Mana brand, and aside from the immediate sequel it's always been with disappointing results. It baffles me why they can't see what they did right with this one and go from there, but they seem determined to improve each new one into a failure.
At one point in time though everything clicked. Secret of Mana still stands aside the giants of 16-bit gaming, and rightly so.
I guess this would be the vote for Pokémon in general, seeing as they're all essentially the same game. However, up to now Blue is the only Pokémon game I'd played, and for several weeks after it came out I barely played anything else. I used to think that everyone only had one game of Pokémon in them, and Blue was mine. The subsequent versions have come and gone without registering any interest, but I think it was more me blocking out the fact that if I started into another it would consume me again. I'm currently finding that this is true with Diamond - my first new Pokémon experience since 2000.
What people tend to forget is that it's a fairly traditional JRPG, only with the Pokémon levelling up instead of the player character. The story is spare, but it's not important. What is important is the overwhelming compulsion to fill that Pokédex and capture every last creature in the game. The combat is actually quite a deep spin on rock, paper, scissors, and some of the set-piece battles take some serious strategy and forward-planning.
This became my RPG fix away from home. I walked to and from work with my eyes fixed on the screen, played it surreptitiously under my desk, handed it over to a friend when it came to the end of my lunch break and I was in the middle of a battle... yes, it's fair to say I was pretty addicted to Blue. And yes, I caught them all.
I would probably love Yoshi's Island if the game wasn't all that great, simply because it looks so luscious. I can't think of any game that beats it in terms of pure visual appeal. It's 16-bit artistry taken to the limit, from the design to the style to the animation.
Luckily it plays like a dream, is superbly structured and offers enough variety in the levels to hold the interest through to the end. It's also - in true Nintendo style - packed full of secret stuff and things to search for. It's very compulsive to go back into a level time and time again to get 100% on the stars, flowers and coins. In this instance though the collecting isn't tedious because the game is a joy to actually play.
Herzog Zwei is a weird one. I don't even recall how I ended up with it on the Megadrive, but it certainly doesn't seem like the sort of game I'd have sought out at the time. It must have been the first RTS game I played (indeed it's often touted as being one of the unsung pioneers of the genre). I didn't find it much of a one-player experience, but over one summer a friend and I discovered it together and played it to death, even taking days off school to engage in marathon sessions.
It's a fairly straightforward game of conquest, each player starting off in a particular main base on a map, with a number of unclaimed smaller bases between them. These bases have to be captured by producing enough troops to fill them and various weapons and support vehicles to defend them. The player has an active role on the battlefield controlling a jet plane / giant robot transformer which can carry these units into position or directly attack the enemy. The player has limited flight fuel which can be replenished by flying over a friendly base. Victory is won by capturing the enemy's main base.
The interface is simple and the action fast and furious. Because the game is played out on a comparatively small scale the back-and-forth is very intense, with key bases changing hands constantly until a crack in the tactics is exploited and an upper hand gained.
Along with Streetfighter 2, Herzog Zwei is probably my most-played competitive two-player game. It really does need a human opponent to bring out the best in it, but it deserves its unshakable place in my 100 just for that summer and for the promise of a worthy opponent in the future.
David Jones's Magic Knight adventures were all excellent, but the sci-fi theme of Knight Tyme appealed to me the most, and indeed it's the only one I ever completed. I even went so far as to create my own guidebook for it. I mapped all the locations, made a star chart with all the flight routes, compiled inventories and character profiles from everything within the game, and of course wrote out a full solution. My Knight Tyme guidebook is one of those classic childhood items lost to multiple house moves and clearouts, but it's a testament to this game's greatness that I've often pondered doing the whole thing over again.
The Windimation system of interaction was a stroke of genius which allowed the game to still have a limited set of controls, making it feel more like an arcade game than the fairly hardcore adventure it is. Even though the NPCs did little more than move from screen to screen it still felt like you were part of a busy, living environment. It's also a very visually attractive game, making good use of the Spectrum's limited palette with bold, cartoony environments and characters, but not trying to go overboard with detail.
The Cinemaware games always seemed to me to be a bit style over substance, with little actual game in among the gorgeous visuals. ICFtD changed all that. It's one of the most engrossing games I've ever played, and the sheer atmosphere is still unbeaten.
Any lover of 50s B-movies would get a kick out of this affectionate homage, and the pacing is perfect - from early initial sightings of giant ants being brushed aside by local authorities to a full-blown military operation to defend the town from invasion the plot builds steadily, becoming more desperate and perilous until the player ends up traveling deep into the ant lair itself to deliver the final blow.
Who could forget the 'escape from the hospital' mini-game? The player, wheelchair-bound, scooting along corridors under pursuit from determined staff. With the clock ticking down all the time you can't afford to lie in bed recuperating for days. Everything takes time in the game, and time is in short supply so everything needs to be planned carefully. After 15 days of game time the ants will directly attack the town, and if the player hasn't mustered up enough defences and the means to take the fight to the ant queen it's curtains for the locals.
There's not really much to say about Tetris, it's almost a default in 'best of' lists, but it really does deserve its place. The original black and white Game Boy version went everywhere with me when the machine first came out, and I even played it during classes towards the end of secondary school when neither the teachers or pupils cared any more (everyone treading water waiting for exams to start).
My vote goes to the later DX version for the Color though, simply for the highscore save. An absolutely essential addition in the days when elevated claims of best Tetris scores were plentiful.
I didn't expect to like Burnout 2 as much as I do. I'd played the first one quite a bit and thought it was a decent racing game, if a little frustrating with its collision detection, and when the second one came along I bought it more by default than anything, just another new game to try out. It turned out to be my favourite racing game of all time.
The last racing game I'd gotten thoroughly addicted to before Burnout 2 was Gran Turismo 2, three years earlier. I haven't since played a racer to completion, and even Burnout 2's own descendants have only diluted the formula.
What Burnout 2 did perfectly was pitch the skillful racing against the thrill of the crashes - something that's been completely lost in the traffic-barging focus of the fourth entry, and a hugely addictive crash mode that - while a little glitchy - was infinitely more fun than Burnout 3's join-the-dots effort. It may not have the visual panache of the latter two but it still looks mighty fine, handles beautifully, and provides a decent, escalating challenge to the player.
The Sims is a phenomenon that I willfully passed over for years, for no reason other than I just didn't think I'd be interested. In a bit of a gaming funk I tried The Sims 2 out of boredom, and became immediately captivated by it. There's more game here than I ever expected, for a start.
There's an immense satisfaction from taking your newly-created Sim - unable to perform simple tasks such as eating or using the bathroom without prompting - and gradually teaching them to fend for themselves and become successful in life and career. It becomes completely addictive to simply buy new clothes or furnishings for the house, and beyond that there's the capability to remodel the house itself, expanding it and adding new floors as your Sim earns the money to do so. Maybe it's the old-time RPG player in me that enjoys the 'levelling up' aspect, or the collector in me that loves decorating and furnishing the house.
It's silly, but there's something so appealing about watching your little digital character go through a range of emotions, interacting with other Sims, burning their dinner then glumly sitting down to eat the charred remains, looking with wonder through the telescope you just bought for them, and many more moments that keep the game compelling. My first Sim burned herself to death in a house fire and I was genuinely upset. I can't say that about many games at all.
Carrier Command is a realtime strategy / simulation hybrid. Set over an archipelago of 64 islands, two remotely-controlled unmanned carriers are competing to capture as many islands as they can, using them as resource and supply centres to further their ultimate goal of destroying the enemy. The player carrier is equipped with a roster of amphibious landing craft (Walrus) and fighter jets (Manta), as well as a powerful turret laser. Islands can be captured by a variety of means, but essentially a command centre has to be built which will then produce resources and defences for the island, and create another link in a supply chain essential to keeping the carrier operational.
The game plays like a kind of macro version of a modern RTS, with the player directly controlling the various forces at their disposal, and personally overseeing the capture of each island. The Walrus and Manta craft can be programmed to perform certain tasks and set to autopilot, but it's always best to go hands-on for the vital business. I love the satisfaction of building up the island network, organizing everything into a streamlined machine. The eventual confrontation with the superior enemy carrier is always a thrilling experience, whatever the outcome.
The control scheme for the game is very elegant, everything reduced to the essentials, and the visuals have a beautiful colourful simplicity. It's another grand 3D adventure from the glory days of 16-bit gaming.
If I could own one genuine arcade machine, I would choose Gravitar. You can keep your hydraulic cabinets and realistically rendered 3D worlds. Seriously, Gravitar represents to me the golden age of arcade gaming and when you add that to vector graphics and gravity gameplay... well, I'm in heaven.
The gameplay is what's become the staple of gravity games since: Limited fuel, delicate controls, enemies and gun emplacements to destroy and extra fuel to pick up. You start in a solar system, each planet representing a different level offering an increasing challenge based on the score available. The sun in the centre of the system will pull you inwards to destruction if you allow it. Destroying all the guns on a planet and escaping will cause the planet to explode and it's onto the next one.
Being a vector game the controls and visuals remain completely smooth and responsive. It's a lot faster paced than most gravity games, and very demanding in terms of available fuel. There's not much room for messing about! One of my favourite things about it is the way the levels scale into view and fill the screen, the gaming universe bursting into life from a single dot. On the planets themselves there's a great crash-zoom effect as you get closer to the ground. It's a simple thing but it really adds to the dynamism of the game.
Gradius V is beautiful. Let's establish that first of all. This is what happens when a supremely talented developer is let loose on a modern console to create a 2D videogame. Glowing lasers, nebulous clouds, dense, twinkling starfields, flames, huge mechanical bosses and of course... some of the most satisfying explosions ever put into a game. The first stage with the Earth spinning around in the background is a visual treat and a stunning introduction. The attention to detail in the ever-moving backdrops throughout gives the game a great sense of place. I own a copy of the 'Perfect' DVD - a playthrough by one of Japan's most skillful gamers - and I often sit and watch the whole thing through. It's a great way to appreciate the artistry on display.
Ironically, Gradius V - developed by the uncompromisingly hardcore team at Treasure - turned out to be arguably the most accessible and playable in the series. It doesn't bash you over the head with insane difficulty the way many of the previous entries did, and any moderately competent player will find themselves slowly but surely progressing further and further with each attempt. One decision that was absolutely essential in this is the fact that the player ship respawns on destruction, with a chance to grab back any Options it had acquired.
It's also very exciting and dramatic, helped in large part by the superlative score by Hitoshi Sakimoto. The cutscene overture at the beginning of level 2 gives me goosebumps every single time.
The modern shmup market maintains a loyal fanbase, enough to keep a handful of specialist developers going. There are worthy entries here and there, but Gradius V simply blows them all away. It's the finest shmup since Treasure's own Ikaruga, and undoubtedly one of the finest ever made.
All the best puzzle games stem from a very simple concept, and things don't come much simpler than Sokoban. Move boxes into designated positions in a room in the fewest number of steps, progress to the next, slightly trickier room. Irretrievably moving a box into the wrong place means resetting the level and trying again (you can't pull blocks backwards). That's it. No enemies (except a countdown clock in the arcade version), and no lives. Just a whole load of levels with very specific perfect solutions to find.
Of course, like all the best puzzle games it's incredibly addictive. Just beating a room isn't good enough - once that's done you get obsessed with cutting out unnecessary steps to find the most efficient solution.
Sokoban has been released in some form or other on just about every platform you could care to mention, some variants have added hazards and enemies which mixes things up a bit, but the original and best block-slider is still pure Sokoban.
Being a space freak I was thrilled to bits with Starflight on the Megadrive. The 16-bit consoles weren't home to many games with this much depth - this was the kind of thing I'd normally be playing on the Amiga or ST - but Starflight is a game that kept me engrossed for countless hours, and still does.
Right from the start that depth becomes apparent when you have to select and train a crew for your ship, allocating funds to train each in particular skills - some races being more adept at certain tasks than others. Luckily early mistakes can be corrected by firing incompetents and hiring new blood. After assigning jobs it's off to work, which entails exploring the galaxy looking for tradeable commodities, surveying planets for suitable colonisation, and making contact with alien races, among other things. Your spacecraft can be upgraded using the money you make from trading and rewards for successful explorations, and along the way an epic plot unfolds.
The actual controls are very arcade-like. Your ship blasts around the solar systems on an overhead 2D display, and landing on a planet or station is achieved by simply swinging the ship around in enough of an arc to get caught by gravity. Planetfall can be tricky - your ship drops like a rock, and careful use of the thrusters are needed to place it in a safe spot without damage or destruction. The sections where you're directly controlling the craft act as a nice flipside to the planning and record-keeping that's necessary in the other parts of the game. Starflight mixes both together nicely.
I consider Delta to be the finest entry in Irem's classic series, indeed I obviously rate it among the greatest shmups of all time. It was fated to be overlooked somewhat, being exclusive to the Playstation meant it never got the arcade exposure it's famous predecessors did, and finding a home on a machine whose primary purpose seemed to be the delivery of true 3D games meant that it got pretty much ignored in the west.
