"Nice extras, but it's probably not worth the extra dough"
As most Mega Man fans know, Mega Man 8 on the Sega Saturn is somewhat of a rarity. Originally intended as Saturn exclusive along with the excellent Mega Man X4, this plan quickly changed when Sony made it known they were interested in bringing the games to the PlayStation as well. To the enlightened, such a story is riddled with irony considering it's widely believed Sony was more interested in showing off the 3D capabilities of their system than allowing 2D sidescrollers live on to the next generation. Tongue-in-cheek as it ended up being, in what was more of a tradeoff for the lost of the exclusive, Capcom gave the Saturn version the edge in bonus material. So what's so different about Mega Man 8 on the Saturn compared to the PlayStation? Not much, but enough to make the value of these releases as different as night and day.
As silly as it may seem, I remember being extremely upset that I couldn't fight Cut Man and Wood Man when I played through the PlayStation version all those years ago just because of what console I was playing on. These battles (and the remixed tunes that play during them) are nice touches, as are the sound, music and hidden animation test that appear in the additional bonus mode, but when you get down to it, these things mean ultimately mean little when the whole picture is considered. What am I talking about? Well, before one can really say how much these extras add one must ask how good the core game is. So, for a Mega Man game, how good is Mega Man 8? Does it sail towards the heavens or does it dwell in the darkest depths?
Shallow as it may seem, the deciding factor in Mega Man 8's failure and success ends up being graphics and art direction. Why? Well, when one considers that nothing of significant note has really changed in the gameplay department in eight games you can't really call that a defining element. For better or worse this is true, blue Mega Man. So, given that there is nothing truly new, it's easy to see why a rather superficial element such a graphics becomes important. However, this is where the game ends up divided upon itself. From a graphical standpoint the game is beautiful; I have no qualms about the quality of its 2D prowess. So what's the problem? The art direction. As if Mega Man 7 on the SNES wasn't bad enough, Mega Man 8 takes the characters and world we grew up with on the (blissfully limited) NES and shoves them through the cuteness grinder once again.
Now, I expect some to fire back with the argument that Mega Man has always been "cutesy," not necessarily in the games themselves (where the NES thankfully prohibited it) but in official artwork Capcom has produced throughout the years. Point taken, but that doesn't mean we have to indulge this and splash it all over the freaking screen. Okay, I'll admit if I want a dose of stone cold seriousness I could always pop in a Mega Man X game but I find it hysterical how Mega Man 8 is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to this. Quite honestly I thought this game would go down as the cuddliest Mega Man game in existence but Capcom proved me wrong with Powered Up on the PSP. What's even more surprising (i.e. downright wrong) is how Mega Man 8 outsold Mega Man X4. Let me repeat that: Mega Man 8 sold more copies than Mega Man X4. How is that even possible? Here we have a game that literally adds nothing to its continuity while Mega Man X4 is a series highlight that gives the original Mega Man X a serious run for its money.
CONCLUSION:
As a product I have to say I somewhat loathe Mega Man 8. I know you can't teach an old dog new tricks but that doesn't stop pet owners from dressing up their dogs in ridiculous outfits. The truth is dogs aren't meant to wear clothes and there's no reason Mega Man needs to look uber cute. What's cute about robots fighting robots? Anyway, as hopelessly off track as I've become, I can't say this bone Capcom threw Saturn owners (it's more like a treat than a bone) is worth the extra green. Stick with the PlayStation version if you're a casual fan and only indulge in this version if you have the obsessive compulsive desire to own everything that is Mega Man.
Overall Score: 7/10
Much like the games they appear in, Rockman scores tend to follow in the consistent steps of their predecessors. To the uninformed, the existence of an underlying formula may suggest that the music is one-dimensional, in need of new sources of inspiration. However, taking a deeper look such exploration already exists: from the abstract work of Yuki Iwai in Rockman X2 to the deserted ideas of the original Rockman Zero, these scores draw attention to the fact musical departure is possible while at the same time presenting experiences that are undeniably Rockman. Whether or not Rockman 8 qualifies as such is subject to question, the majority holding true to its linage.
There are many reasons why Rockman 8 feels different than its counterparts, one being the quick jump from the 16-bit realm to the 32-bit realm. This disallowed the development of fixed standard in the sound department, something that greatly benefited the first six soundtracks (the lack of a auditory standard would be complicated even further when the series eventually returned to the Super Famicom with 1998’s Rockman & Forte.) Still, the more likely cause for the indifference some show towards the score is its soft, often laid back temperament; there is an odd impression that there should be more to the pieces than what is there due to an almost synthetic void. It’s like a voice echoing off the walls in an empty room, you almost expect to hear a reply but all you hear is your own voice ricocheting back since there is nothing there to absorb it. To imagine such a quality clashing with the crispness of bit tunes isn’t hard, though it’s hardly the stake though the heart some believe it to be. In fact, some of Uchiyama’s best pieces live and breathe off the effect created by it.
The soundtrack wastes no time, presenting the listener with a powerful combination of energy and movement in “Title Screen.” Presenting these elements, which are more timid and reserved elsewhere, at this point is important to the soundtrack as a whole. Things settle back down into their normal posture with “Stage Select” maintaining the flow of energy with its mellow and unrelated techno style. However, around this point a relatively minor issue comes to light: the down time between the beginning of a fade and start of the following track is quite excessive. Content and humble, “Laboratory” unfortunately disrupts that sense of drive from above before the upbeat “Opening Stage Above Ground” can continue it. Being somewhat of a play (variation) on the title theme, the catchy but rather uninspired sense of discovery is befitting. Its counterpart “Opening Stage Underground” works in much the same way, and is the first piece to reveal the darker side of the score.
Touching off the main assortment of stage themes is the enchanting “Ice Stage” where the peculiar aspects of Rockman 8’s sound become its advantage. That odd, seemingly hollow void alluded to above is put to work as the simultaneous chill of merriment and sadness resound throughout the surrounding emptiness. This makes the appearance of the soundtrack’s only true recording flaw (the omission of a loop transition) all the more ironic. Though it hardly seems to matter due to the wonderful feeling this track leaves behind, given the source of the audio this time around (CD-ROM) one can only wonder what was trying to be accomplished and why. The deep, piano laden sections of the playful “Alternate Dimension Stage” create a similar atmosphere, interacting with and providing a clever reprieve from the track’s quirky overtone. Whether the remaining stage themes live beyond their in-game context for the right reasons is debatable: the almost boorish sense of laziness within “Base Stage” doesn’t seem to stick out until your mind unintentionally reflects back on it hours after listening to it but the stereotypical “Amusement Park Stage” is a real surprise, not being nearly as disposable as one would initially think. Dissection of the Aztec-like “Ruins Stage” and the calm, almost lullaby-ish “Underwater Stage” requires the consideration of the larger picture: while standard musical representations of their respective environments at face value, they’re notable but not memorable for being unlike anything else in the series. Uchiyama’s Wily themes attempt a similar yet altogether different ruse, disguising compositions whose roots lie within the bounds of the Rockman sound with curious choices in execution. Peeling away the layer of deception reveals a set of themes that are somewhat related with those from the previous game. At its core, interaction between the concave backdrop and lead synth in “Wily Stage 1” is reminiscent of the contrast between the instruments used in Rockman 7’s “Wily Stage 1” while initially appearing to be completely different. Still, attempting to find such a link for the dark and brooding “Wily Stage 3” is another story.
Boss themes account for the soundtrack’s greatest area of inconsistency. Things start off on the right foot, the methodical beat of the quasi-mechanical “Mid Boss Battle” reinforcing the menacing disposition of Wily’s creations as they grind to their death. Emphasizing the mystery and intrigue surrounding the robot masters is the fever pitch of “Big Boss Entry,” resisting the urge to give into that standard declaration of dread associated with their appearance. In line with the boss theme from Rockman 7 is “Big Boss Battle” where the semi-playful context is mined hollow by the underlying seriousness. Such emotions co-exist more peacefully with one another in “Midway Stage Duo Battle” where the heroic call of the day is answered with a befitting character theme. This is perhaps what makes the reprise of Forte’s theme in “Bass Battle” so disappointing; that tense sense of controlled tenacity from the original is replaced with an unimpressive, haunting warble. In what has become somewhat of a standard since the NES games, the final battle themes have once again undergone extensive retooling; the idea of thematic drama being toned down in favor of compositions that tease the listener. This is something that the oppressive, technological atmosphere of “Wily Second Form” and “Wily Third Form” can barely accomplish with their abstract structure, failing to provide an adequate level of poignancy.
Closing out the album is the music for the game’s various video sequences. It’s surprising how well the Sunday morning cartoon feel of “VS Forte,” the inherent lament within “Reminiscence” and the boldness of “Duo Entry” generate such emotion outside the comfort of their accompanying scenes. Exclusion of the opening theme, the piece that replaced the original J-pop opening in the NTSC and PAL versions, is regrettable and could have been another solid way to open the album. Unfortunate as it is, this isn’t the only thing that throws the completeness of the soundtrack into question. With the music only derived from the PlayStation edition of the game, the alternate composition for “Sky Stage” and remixed renditions of the Cut and Wood Man themes from the Sega Saturn version were left to the ages. It’s understandable why the PlayStation version was used as the standard for the soundtrack but does that really warrant ignoring the existence of additional material?
CONCLUSION:
Regardless of the grievances above, it’s obvious that the music of Rockman 8 lacks the clout of its predecessors; the time elapsed between the debut of the game and soundtrack only serves to support such a view. It’s not hard to find fault in Uchiyama’s work here, but those willing to overlook the score’s lack of sheen can and will find something to enjoy.
Overall Score: 7/10
"Nice extras, but it's probably not worth the extra dough"
