The Essentials #5: Robot Alchemic Drive

Known in Japan as Gigantic Drive, Enix's 2002 release of Robot Alchemic Drive for the PlayStation 2 was one of the very few games that I ever picked up based purely on a playable demo. Had it not been for that fateful Official U.S. PlayStation Magazine demo disc (October 2002, Issue 61), I likely would never have discovered this gem.

Inspired by developer Sandlot's love of classic Super Robot anime like Gigantor (aka Tetsujin 28), the game put the player in control of giant robots defending the city from giant alien monsters. For Americans unfamiliar with the Super Robot genre, the campy form was much closer to Godzilla or Ultraman than to Gundam.

The game began with a mysterious and hostile alien race known as the Volgara arriving in the city and proceeding to blow stuff up. It was then up to the story's teenage protagonist, the recent head of the ailing Tsukioka Industries and interim chairman of the Civilization Preservation Foundation, now thrust into the role of humanity's last hope, to reluctantly take command of the foundation's secret weapon, the giant remote-controlled Meganite robot, whose development costs likely drove Tsukioka into ruin.

The big gameplay twist was that, rather than playing as the giant robot, the player played as the guy who controlled that robot via a remote that looked remarkably similar to the PS2 controller. Starting out in third person, the chairman would navigate freely around the city, using the equipped Gravity Booster to fly to a suitable vantage point. Then, switching to a fixed first-person angle based on the character's position, the player would operate the robot remotely. As the action moved around and out of the chairman's-eye view, or, in some cases, as the vulnerable chairman's position became too perilous, it would be necessary to shift back to third-person mode, moving nearer or farther to a better or safer angle. Those seeking danger (or motion sickness) could even place the chairman on top of the Meganite's shoulder, though it was unstable at best, vomit-inducing and completely suicidal at worst. Camera has posed problems for practically every developer that has ever tackled a 3-D game, but R.A.D.'s uniquely-inspired approach took a potential weakness and turned it into the game's greatest strength.


Once in first person, the inventive Meganite controls further distinguished the gameplay. The robot could only be made to walk one step at a time, with L1 and R1 corresponding to the robot's left foot and right foot. Likewise, the two analog sticks governed the Meganite's two arms. Pressing both L shoulders or both R shoulders caused the robot to pivot, L2+R2 was crouch, and the face buttons were used for special functions, such as firing projectiles or transforming into the secondary mode. The piece-by-piece micro-control took some getting used to, but, once grasped, it was actually one of the most tactile control schemes ever conceived. While the game included an easy mode with more traditional controls, using it robbed the experience of a large part of its enjoyment.

It all sounds convoluted, yes, but that was the beauty of it. The game so convincingly immersed the player in the madness of the Super Robot world that I fully expected the most diabolical mad scientist control mechanism imaginable, and, then, as I gradually got the hang of it, the satisfaction was immeasurable, until I started to convince myself that I had to be the only one capable of handling this sophisticated machinery, the only one capable of saving the city from these accursed space monsters.

Starting out, the player could select one of three different identities for the chairman, including two males: the wide-eyed Naoto or the aloof Ryo. For those preferring a female protagonist, there was the ditzy Yui. I chose Ryo for my playthrough, but the choice had little effect on the plot and none on the gameplay. The only notable change, I'm told, was regarding the romance subplots. The love interests did not change gender to accommodate the selection of a female protagonist, so Yui's relationships with them became merely deep friendships.

More significantly, the player had to choose from three Meganites: the Vertical Fortress Vavel, the Airborne Dominator Laguiole, and Gllang the Castlekeep. Laguiole and Gllang could transform into a jet and tank, respectively, while Vavel was the balanced, traditional mech, equipped with the high-risk Volcanic Mode, which would max out its destructive power for a short time, after which it would crash from the strain on its generators. Through the course of the campaign, the chairman would take control of all three, but the initial selection would remain the primary Meganite.

Mimicking the format of a television anime, the story was split up into about fifty short episodes. Most of them revolved around a fight against a single Volgara, and, while a lack of enemy variety made for some repetitiveness, the mission structure and objectives would occasionally change to keep things from becoming too formulaic. The Volgara might attack different parts of the city, for example, while the Meganite usually had to start from the same location. The civilian population of the city added other variables, as the player would sometimes be tasked with actually protecting the people, instead of just pounding on the enemy and invariably causing immense collateral damage. The game was alarmingly arbitrary as to when civilian lives mattered, however, as the same bus that had to be saved in one mission could be crushed ten times over in every other.

Some episodes actually contained no action and instead focused on progressing the narrative via the dialogue, which showcased the comically horrendous English voice acting. Hilarious precisely because it didn't appear to be in any way an intentional parody, it nonetheless added an ironic authenticity to the experience, as it hearkened back to a tradition of bad English dubbing in anime. The worst offender may have been the actor for my protagonist, Ryo Tsukioka, whose delivery seemed consistently and inappropriately without affect. My favorite character, however, was Dr. Herman Wiltz, the hero's primary adviser and also the developer of the Alchemic Drive, which powered the Meganites. His thick German accent was absurdly over-the-top, but the performance exhibited such enthusiasm that seemed to almost reflect genuine belief in the insane material being read. By the time the story was over, I too believed it and no longer perceived a performance, instead fully recognizing the uniquely memorable voice as that of Dr. Wiltz himself. Sadly, for those hoping for a straight take, the North American release did not include the option to use the Japanese language track.


Coming out three years before Shadow of the Colossus, R.A.D. emphasized scale as no video game ever had, with the Meganites and Volgara impressively towering over the city's buildings. Providing an appropriate sandbox for these titans was the highly destructible environment, where nearly any structure could be knocked down. Indeed, as mentioned, collateral damage was unavoidable, given how hard these things punched and how much harder they fell. I often even inadvertently destroyed the Civilization Preservation Foundation building, though it would be rebuilt after every mission at great expense to the chairman's backers. As for the citizens, instead of simply evacuating the city after the first three or so Volgara attacks, they added to the potential carnage, as geysers of blood would erupt every time some panicked crowd foolishly fled into the shadows of my Meganite's steps.

Adding to the three perspectives offered by the differing protagonists, there were also multiple endings based on how the player fared with each of the two potential love interests. The chairman's classmate, Nanao, was a hard-luck case, who struggled to make ends meet on her own, after a Volgara blew up her grandmother during the game's opening act. Winning her over involved little more than keeping her home and workplaces from being destroyed incidentally during missions. Needless to say, I failed miserably in this regard. The other romantic subplot involved Ellen Bulnose, the chairman's well-endowed former betrothed/best friend, back when Tsukioka and Bulnose planned to merge, now engaged to Masaru Misaki, who, as the heir to Japan's new leading arms manufacturer, also provided most of the protagonist's funding. In rather twisted fashion, the path to Ellen encouraged the player to continually destroy Misaki's buildings in order to terminate their engagement.

In addition to the single-player campaign, the game also included a splitscreen versus mode, where two players could battle using the Meganites or any unlocked Volgara. The obscurity of the title, however, made it hard to find suitable opponents.

Actually, R.A.D. was neither the first nor the last remote-controlled giant robot game developed by Sandlot, whose catalog is mostly comprised of games in this genre they created. It is, unfortunately, the only one to have ever been released outside Japan. That truly is a shame, as R.A.D. stands as evidence to the developer's brilliance. The unique perspective and controls made for the most immersive video game experience I ever had. It easily ranks within my top five games of all time.

Mortal Kombat vs. DC Universe

I played Mortal Kombat II quite a bit back in the day, but did not keep up with the series after that. It was not until Mortal Kombat: Armageddon promised to be the be-all, end-all of MK, what with its inclusion of every fighter in series history, that I even played another installment. After twenty minutes with that game, I wondered what the hell I was thinking buying that trash. Now, they've somehow hooked me again with this latest offering. I must partly blame it on the inclusion of the DC characters, but, even without them, the idea of a pared-down return to MK's roots appealed to a part of me that I simply couldn't deny.

This may well be the purest MK game in years. As stated by the developers, the intent of Armageddon had been to provide a final climax to a series that had become bloated and insular. The game after that would then be a reset of sorts for the franchise, a mainstream attempt to win back the immense audience that the franchise enjoyed during its prime of the first two installments. Of course, I'm not sure, when they decided that, that even they expected it would take this current form.

As part of the strategy to attract former fans, who, like me, lost interest after MKII, the entire MK half of the roster is taken from the first two installments. The select list of all-stars is, however, controversially missing Johnny Cage, the iconic ball-breaker's spot given instead to Baraka. The DC side is somewhat shakier. The Joker is not exactly the first name I think of when it comes to characters I'd like to play as in a fighting game. Batman may have the best rogues gallery in comics, but they're mostly just crazy gangsters who couldn't actually fight one-on-one against Batman, let alone characters with superpowers. Yet this game includes Joker AND Catwoman. The latter was presumably added to give the DC side a second female, and Catwoman is certainly DC's second most recognizable, though I would've preferred Black Canary or Zatanna, or even Hawkgirl. The list is fairly solid otherwise, though when working with only half the allotted slots in a fighting game roster, it's inevitable that many worthy characters will be left out. Where is Aquaman, for example?

As far as gameplay is concerned, gone are the style-switching and weapons. The 3-D aspects have also been toned down considerably. This is the sort of fighting game that regular people could enjoy, though I don't know for how long. Certainly, the game is fun while you're trading blows with a friend, and there's even a mildly-exhilirating mechanic, where the fighters sometimes go flying off the stage and are able to battle in mid-air during their free fall to a lower platform.

The game's weakest aspect has to be its graphics, which just don't strike me as current-gen. The characters look almost like hi-res PS2 models, and the stiff, awkward animation is even worse. During my play, there was one Wonder Woman move, in particular, I remember, where she would do the splits, then grab and flip her opponent over to the other side. It's difficult to convey in mere words, but it was one of the ugliest things I'd ever seen. After witnessing it multiple times, I still didn't understand the physics of it.

Overall, the game is fun. It's especially cool to pit Superman against Captain Marvel, something I don't think any other game has offered. But, in classic MK fashion, it's also plagued by technical shortcomings, and its gameplay basically caters to the lowest common denominator. Even though I've already contributed my dollars, I don't really feel that it deserves the attention that the MK name is still guaranteed to attract, especially with so many other noteworthy fighters on the horizon (Street Fighter IV, Tekken 6, BlazBlue, The King of Fighters XII) or already released (Soulcalibur IV).

Of course, I've only dipped briefly into the story mode, which may well be the highlight of the game.

A Grievous Affair

I had a dream that I was playing Star Wars: The Force Unleashed, the recent Star Wars video game set between the two trilogies. And, by "playing," I mean I was living it, except it was probably nothing like the actual game, which I haven't played.

In the dream, General Grievous, thought to have died in Episode III, appeared alive and well. He introduced himself by explaining the unlikely circumstances of his survival.

Apparently, after blasting a path through the hull of his exploding ship, he had snagged a ride off the back of an escape pod, barely clearing the explosion behind him. Since that narrow escape, he had devoted himself to becoming a master of the cyborg sciences.

After explaining, he then kindly offered to install a heart in my dog.

My dog was a robot, you see.

So long, Dragon Quest VIII

Well, Dragon Quest VIII is over and done with. The last twenty hours were actually pretty easy once I synthesized the right items, and the final boss, while a tedious affair, never really threatened me (well, except when I accidentally selected "Flee," and, instead of simply telling me that it wasn't an option, the game forced me to watch as my party absorbed a round of unanswered attacks). The ending was satisfying enough, though it suffered the usual problems of having a mute protagonist in a genre that leans heavily on plot and character.

Quite a relief, I must say, to get that off my back after two years and over seventy grueling hours. In the past, it has often been bittersweet having to part with a game after such a long attachment. Charming as it was, however, I'll happily say that I'm never going to play this game again, bonus dungeons be damned. I don't feel my time was wasted, but I still can't really recommend it to anyone without a lot of time and patience.


So long, indeed.

The Essentials #4: Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles

A GameCube exclusive, Square-Enix's 2003/2004 release of Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles marked the return of the Final Fantasy brand to Nintendo consoles. Equally significant, it was also the first of only three titles to be designed specifically around the GameCube-Game Boy Advance Cable, allowing use of the Game Boy Advance handheld as a controller with built-in sub-screen.

Produced by JRPG maverick Akitoshi Kawazu, the uncompromising creator of the SaGa series and one of Square's longest-serving employees, Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles, despite its title, was a dramatic departure from anything previously released under the Final Fantasy brand. At the heart of the distinction was the decision to design Crystal Chronicles as a local cooperative multiplayer game. While some of the flagship installments, most recently Final Fantasy IX, had included limited co-op functionality, the feature was clearly an afterthought with little practical value. The turn-based, menu-based combat of the series was not conducive to a multiplayer experience. Furthermore, the multiplayer was only in effect during battles, which were just one small part of Final Fantasy. Once on the field or in towns, only one player would actively control, while additional players would be reduced to observers, usually for long stretches. For Crystal Chronicles, the designers needed to go in a more action-oriented direction, focusing less on narrative and exploration, while employing a real-time combat engine with simultaneous play for up to four players. The resulting gameplay owed more to dungeon crawls like Diablo than to Final Fantasy.

Players would begin by selecting their character's race. In place of classes or jobs, four races offered slight variation in strengths and skills. The well-rounded Clavats were natural leaders, with high defense and average attack and magic. The quick-footed Selkies could attack more rapidly and had ranged weapons. The dwarfish, warlike Lilties had the highest attack power but the weakest magic. My character was one of the mysteriously faceless Yukes, a scholarly race specializing in magical ability. Truthfully, the statistical differences between the races were slight, with all of them feeling about equally limited within the confines of the simplistic battle engine.

The plot of the game saw the world covered in a poisonous miasma, with towns able to survive only within the protective fields of magical crystals powered by Myrrh. The crystals had to be refueled each year by journeying to distant locations to defeat the monsters that guarded the trees of Myrrh. In order to accomplish this, each town sent out a caravan equipped with a crystal chalice.

In a case of plot informing gameplay, or vice versa, while traveling through the miasma-filled dungeons, one player would have to carry the chalice, and any party members who wandered outside its field of protection would rapidly lose health. When engaging the enemy, the chalice would usually have to be set down, so that the team could fight at full strength. In the frenzy of battle, it was common to lose sight of the chalice, especially since it could be shifted around by stray attacks. Fleeing in panic as we often did from overwhelming enemy forces, my party would sometimes realize too late that nobody had bothered to pick up the chalice. We would then have to rush back into the fray to retrieve it. Then, having been severely depleted, first by the monsters that had sent us running, and then by the miasma that we had carelessly run into, we would face the choice between two equally impossible options. Either we could dig in for one last stand within the field, or one player would lead the escape at half-speed under the burden of the chalice's weight, while the other players tried to fend off the pursuing horde.

The cumbersome chalice mechanic frustrated many players, but the point of it was to reinforce the team coordination aspects that the game stressed, requiring that players keep a tight formation and move as a unit rather than wander off on their own. The necessity to stay within the field also made for some of the most intense moments in any RPG I've played, such as in the "last stand" scenario I described, since the inability to flee swiftly made it feel as if we were always up against it. Truly, it was an experience-defining mechanic that kept the game from being just another straightforward dungeon hack.


The basic format of the game involved the caravan heading into a dungeon, where the players would fight their way through monsters, collecting items and solving simple key and button puzzles along the way. At the end of each dungeon, the party would have to take down a large boss creature. Most of the monsters, including bosses, were taken from Final Fantasy lore (e.g. Flan, Malboro, Behemoth, etc.), with even a few obscure ones, such as Armstrong, the living house from Final Fantasy VII. This was about the extent of the game's connection to the Final Fantasy series, but these bits of fanservice were welcome nonetheless. After three dungeons, the caravan would have enough Myrrh for the year, and the process would repeat for as many game years as it took for the party to reach and complete the final dungeon.

The game did not offer much in the way of loot. Instead, players would find Magicite and stat-boosting artifacts, none of which could be retained past the immediate dungeon. For most of the game, Magicite was the only source of magic, so, even though my Yuke character was supposed to be a powerful spell-caster, he would be unable to use any magic until he located and equipped that dungeon's Magicite. Sometimes my party's search was not quite thorough enough, and so we would have to make do without a Life spell. The fickle nature of the magic system made for one of the game's more frustrating elements, especially for Yuke players. Further compounding feelings of magical inadequacy, offensive spells were largely useless even once located.

Characters did not have MP, so spells could be used as often as desired by charging up with the attack button and maneuvering the targeting display onto an enemy. Even though I focused primarily on developing my magic stat, my attack spells were never strong enough to justify their casting times, compared to the free damage from other races' physical attacks. Higher-level "-ara" and "-aga" spells could only be used by combining spells of the same type, which required that multiple players coordinate by casting on the same target within a few frames of one another. During battle, this was tricky with two people and impossible with more. Worse yet, even the combined spells did very little damage. The only real bonus was the possibility that a spell might freeze or stun the enemy.

While the game was light on narrative, cut scenes would occur semi-randomly while journeying on the road between dungeons. Most of these scenes were encounters with caravans from other towns, where fellow travelers would impart news or advice, share amusing stories, or ask to trade items. The caravan would also periodically hear tales of a warrior known as the Black Knight, who had apparently lost his memory and his mind. Then there were the occasional encounters with the knavish Gurdy, a swindler and poet, who bummed rides with other caravans until they invariably lost patience with him. These recurring subplots were as close as the game had to a main story, though their significance would not become evident until the end. Occurring seemingly at random, just as with all the other cut scenes, it was never even clear what triggered them. This gave the caravan's journey an organic feeling that effectively conveyed the sense of being on the road, as events would just happen while traveling, instead of being sought out.


The GameCube-Game Boy Advance connectivity experiment came to be regarded as a failure before either system was done, though the two screen setup may have been the basis for the dual screen design of the Nintendo DS. With Crystal Chronicles, it's hard to make the case that the game was truly better for its required use of the GBA.

In dungeons, each player would be assigned one of four guides on the GBA screen: a map of the dungeon, a monster radar, a treasure locator, and an enemy scouting report. To get the full picture required that players communicate and share information. Like the chalice, this forced teamwork may have been manufactured, but it was no less fulfilling for it, as players would truly play their roles, leading the way around the map, directing the party toward chests, or warning of nearby enemy swarms. Of course, an FAQ or strategy guide would render all of that unnecessary, as would attempting a dungeon more than once, which happened from time to time.

Changing equipment also took place on the GBA, a logical application of the handheld screen, allowing each player to go into the menu without interrupting play for others. Because going into the menu did not pause the action, however, doing so during combat was out of the question due to how aggressive monsters were. Since you could only use the specific items you had equipped in one of your character's handful of action slots, and, since there was no auto-reload for consumable items of the same type, this meant that those bannock loaves went mostly unused. Even the critical Phoenix Down could not be taken advantage of most of the time, meaning that, if a party member went down mid-fight and nobody had the Life spell handy, that character was out for the remainder of the battle. Honestly, this was one aspect of the game that I could have done without. Even though it was meant to take advantage of the connectivity function, the manner of its implementation made its use impractical. They might as well have deactivated the menu altogether during combat.

The game's greatest shortcoming was how difficult and expensive it was to set up. It required a GBA and GC-GBA Cable for each player. For one person, all this equipment represented a huge cost to absorb for just one game (two, when The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords Adventures came out a few months later). On the other hand, it was extremely unlikely that one could find three friends who owned GBAs and were willing to get together and commit to the game. And, hard as it was to set up in its own time, it's effectively impossible to bring together all that dead equipment today.

Crystal Chronicles was by far the most challenging Final Fantasy game I had ever played, and that included the notoriously severe Famicom version of Kawazu's Final Fantasy II. Exacerbating the triple frustrations of the chalice, the uselessness of magic, and the inability to pause, monsters were consistently vicious, while the player characters developed at a slow pace. Instead of gaining experience, players could select from an arbitrary list of stat gains or items upon the completion of each dungeon. The inconsistent nature of these offerings made even level-grinding impractical. It wasn't very far into the game before my fellow party members and I found ourselves inflicting damage in the low single digits against bosses with hundreds of HP. The hard-earned victory is always most gratifying, however, and I would say that is even more so the case when earned through teamwork with other players. Indeed, beating Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles may have been the most rewarding video game experience I had ever had.

With the final dungeon, the game saw a sharp difficulty spike. The first several times we attempted it, we persevered up to and through the first two forms of the boss, only to have his third form decimate us within seconds. When we finally prevailed against that third form, we were shocked to learn that there were another two boss fights left to go. It was only during that final set of fights that I discovered the usefulness of my Yuke's unique defensive ability, which allowed him to become intangible for as long as the button was held down. While I could not move or act in this form, I was completely invincible. Our eventual winning strategy had me remaining intangible for nearly the entirety of the fights, acting as a lifeline, only coming out of it to heal or revive other party members. Meanwhile, my partners would whittle down the bosses, one damage point at a time. In the end, we managed to overcome a massive power gulf to achieve victory through cunning and guile.

While Crystal Chronicles was clearly designed for multiplayer, it did contain a single-player mode, which was actually much easier. Use of the GBA was not required. The sub-screen could be brought up on the TV screen, pausing the action while the player sorted through items, allowing the player to equip the auto-reviving Phoenix Downs at leisure. Also, the chalice would be handled by an AI-controlled moogle. These differences removed most of the stressful elements of the game, but, without other players to party up with, the simple mechanics didn't make for an engaging experience. Sadly, with the multiplayer game being so hard to set up, this is the only practical way to play it now.

Too bad, because I consider it to be the greatest cooperative multiplayer game I have ever played. In this current age of wi-fi, and with the ubiquity of the DS, the problems that prevented widespread appreciation of the original game would not be a factor this generation. Hopefully, it won't be long before we see a true successor using the Wii and DS.

Presents from the lab

So I come back to my desk after lunch and find a sealed envelope placed unexpectedly on top of it. The addressee label is a sticker with my name and a picture of a gift-wrapped present on it. There are no other clues as to its contents or purpose, so I go ahead and open it, not expecting anything good to come of it, though a part of me can't help hoping.

What I get is a flier--no, two glossy, full-color fliers, one promoting the Holiday Gift Drive, and the other promoting the Holiday Food Drive. As if one sheet of grayscale would not have been sufficient to cover both events. As if there were even an appreciable difference between the two. I should note also that these are the very same fliers that have been visible posted all over the lab, including on every bathroom and break room door, for the past three weeks.

"What the hell is this crap?!" I think to myself. "I don't care about this!"

Who the hell is paying to print and distribute these redundant fliers to each of six hundred employees in my department alone? Okay, maybe it's not a whole lot of money, but it could have been better spent all the same. This is almost as bad as that time the government sent me a letter just to remind me to expect my stimulus check in a later mailing.

Hori Classic Controller

I just had to post about this, because it looks completely awesome.

Best known for their arcade-style joysticks, Hori is easily the leading third-party manufacturer of gaming peripherals for consoles. I own one of their SNES-style GameCube controllers, and it's a pretty sweet way to play GBA games on the Game Boy Player. Their products are always officially-licensed, so, in addition to looking nice, their parts are just as solid as first-party goods. While most of their stuff is import-only, peripherals aren't generally region-locked.

That said, as an alternative to the Classic Controller, this doesn't really pose any practical advantages. If the D-pad is as lousy as the GameCube controller's, this would actually be a worse option for most Virtual Console titles. It's just too bad that the Classic Controller input, which I assume this utilizes, cannot be used for GameCube games on the Wii. I'd give anything for a wireless, rumbling GameCube controller for use on the Wii (or GameCube, for that matter).