“While reality crashed Battle Arena Toshinden’s party long ago, there’s still something to be found here for those willing to look.”
Like the sun and the moon, video games come and go. While some games retain their luster well beyond their initial release, others suffer short, uncelebrated ends. Sometimes the two are one in the same; an acclaimed title devouring a soon-to-be-forgotten relic. Its titles like these that gather dust in our closets and under our beds; it’s one of these titles I’d like to talk about today: Battle Arena Toshinden.
To anyone familiar with one-on-one fighters, the reason for Toshinden’s fall was obvious: superior competition. As a launch title for the PS1 and eventually a system pack-in, Battle Arena Toshinden represented new possibilities. Sure, it wasn’t the first three-dimensional fighter out there but it was responsible for bringing it to a whole new audience. So what went wrong? As bright and shiny as Toshinden was it revolved around the simple exchange of blows and little else. Missing were the combos and juggles that late, two-dimensional fighters thrived on. Such omissions would become detrimental when Tekken and Virtual Fighter 2 showed up while Battle Arena Toshinden 2 hacked away at the same old game. Backed into a corner, could Toshinden evolve and survive?
Yes and no. Battle Arena Toshinden 3 would contain the elements its successor skimped out on, but it was too late; products like Capcom’s Star Gladiator and Namco’s Soul Edge easily eclipsed what it had to offer. Faced with the dire reality, the series would see one last entry in Europe and Japan (there was also a Wii entry released solely in Japan) before fading away. As simple as the story seems, there were other factors involved in Toshinden’s decline. While the game wasn’t a testament to graphical prowess, the first entry actually looked better than its predecessors. The more detailed Toshinden tried to get the uglier it became. Sure, the third game could blaze at sixty frames per second but once your character models start looking like Legos you’re only putting off the inevitable.
Still, in many ways the original Battle Arena Toshinden had more to offer by offering less. Really, can anyone look at Toshinden 3’s extended roster and not laugh at some of those lame-ass abortions called characters? Now reflect back on the original cast from the first game. Looks a lot better in comparison, doesn’t it? Okay, so every character from Eiji to Ellis fits into some prefabricated character mold, but at least you can forge some kind of affection for them despite the clichés. As endearing as the roster is, there's another area that has stood the test of time: the music. From the drum rolls heard when battling Kayin to the teasing synthesizers in Duke’s stage, Makato Mukai and Yasuhiro Nakano’s themes do their part in forging the characters personalities, Eiji and Sofia's themes dripping with a favor that is undeniably Toshinden.
CONCLUSION:
As painful as Battle Arena Toshinden’s backwards slide into video game hell was, I’m sure there are those who look back on the original as fondly as I do. While the game proves there is a vast difference between the games that introduce an experience and those that provide one for the ages, it doesn’t mean its place in video game history should be ignored. That said, for two dollars and ninety-five cents you could certainly do worse.
Overall Score: 6/10
"A small J-RPG treasure"
Role-playing games. Final Fantasy VII. A genre and the game that was destined to define it. Final Fantasy and role-playing games may have been available in North America prior to it's release late 1997, but you could have easily fooled anyone the opposite was true when Final Fantasy VII went on sale. The rest of the narrative pretty much writes itself: Final Fantasy VII opened the floodgates, Final Fantasy VII proved to Americans that RPGs and anime could be pretty rad, Final Fantasy VII proved RPGs no longer had to sacrifice in superficial areas to compensate for their lengthy duration.
Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII. Yeah, I enjoyed it during its heyday. Hell, I enjoyed it way past its heyday when my friends and I had (pointless) competitions to see who could get their limit breaks at the earliest point in the game. It's an important title and still is. Would I have gotten into the genre without the marketing blitz and buzz that surrounded it? Probably not. Still, beyond Squaresoft being the obvious "breadwinner" when it came to RPGs during the 32-bit era, I can't say they produced my favorite offering of the era. That crown belonged to a small development studio called Media Vision who produced a title called Wild Arms, a game that beat Final Fantasy VII to the market by a mere four months. As small as that window of opportunity seems, Wild Arms would need every second of it to get any kind of a jump on Square’s impending behemoth and be of any relevance.
So what's so special about Wild Arms? Why should anyone care that it was eventually overshadowed by a perceivably superior title? Well, I'm not really saying anyone should care, but I believe the game has something to offer even the most jaded fan, and this is coming from someone who actually played it after playing Final Fantasy VII. One of the biggest sins people try to peg on Wild Arms is the fact that the majority of the experience seems to be built upon clichés. I absolutely love this argument because, in a nutshell, they’re correct. Why would I utter something that seems to defeat the point I'm trying to make? Because I've yet to play an RPG that doesn't conform to the vast body preconceived notions that comes with the territory. It's like watching a horror movie with good dialogue; does such a thing even exist? Save the world fare it may be, something all RPG quests eventually boil down to, there’s something devilishly alluring about Rudy, Jack and Cecilia quest even though we’ve seen it all before. Wild Arms manages to do that thing that all good games are capable of, making the familiar feel fresh. I love the inner turmoil Rudy faces in being a stranger in a stranger world, the initially selfish desire of Cecilia to be seen as more than a symbol and Jack’s ability to eventually overcome his darkened past. As I said, it’s been done, but it’s the manner in which it is accomplished that speaks volumes beyond the archetypes at play.
Of course, some people will have issues with the way Wild Arms accomplishes its goals. Wild Arms is a first generation PS1 title and, as expected, looks like a first generation PS1 title. Combat is presented in full 3D and the models look antiquated even when compared other early games. I’ll admit I’m not too crazy over the super deformed, bobble-head characters or flaccid design that reigns over the game’s non-boss combatants and summons but the sequels wouldn’t improve on this either. Wild Arms does get what matters correct however, and that’s the look and feel of the game’s antagonists. Really, outside of Odessa from Wild Arms 2, Media Vision has found it impossible to match the power, intensity and soul of these characters and it’s not hard to see why. Wild Arms 3’s Prophets? Please. Wild Arms 4’s Brionac. Whatever. Wild Arms 5’s pathetic attempt at class/race warfare? Laughs. The Metal Demons (and Odessa) are on a completely different level than the previously mentioned forces of evil. Unfortunately for Media Vision, I’m no longer willing to lie to myself about what those games lack compared to the first two PS1 entries.
Another area that’s ripe for criticism is the simplicity of the combat engine. Again, I won’t deny it has little to nothing over the systems seen before it and the force system is hardly revolutionary but we’re dealing with an era before the advent of materia. People love to tout FFVII’s materia system as the be all, end all magic system but I don’t see how materia is that different from the previous game’s Esper system. In fact Espers may actually be a bit superior in my opinion. Regardless, simplicity is not always the vice people make it out to be. Sure, most battles play out the same, Rudy assaulting bosses with his ARMS, Jack nailing bosses with Fast Draws (eventually backed by Hyper) and Cecilia having a hard time striking a balance between attack and support magic the closer one gets to completing the game.
Such daggers aside, Wild Arms will probably look a lot better out of combat where its Zelda-influenced gameplay takes hold. Unlike combat, exploration of the game’s world takes pace on an overhead, two-dimensional plane. In dungeons, players will overcome puzzles with the aid of tools, objects that are unique to each character. Some of these are as simple as gunpowder bombs or as complex as Hanpan who helps you reach otherwise inaccessible switches and items. Dungeons are also teaming with traps that can inflict damage to a characters hit points as well. Going from typical JRPG combat to action-RPG like game play outside is handled with an extreme amount of care, the seamless transition easily being the game’s major calling card. Still, there are other areas of Wild Arms that are sure to impress like Michiko Naruke’s western influenced music score. While Naruke would struggle to varying degrees with games that followed, Wild Arms’ audio would prove to be an essential part in driving home the steampunk setting the game takes place in. I can’t say it’s one of the defining scores of the 32/64 bit era but for fans of video game music it’s pretty much essential listening.
CONCLUSION:
I’m sure to many I’ve failed to offer a compelling argument as to how Wild Arms can hold it’s own to previously mentioned kingpin known as Final Fantasy VII. Despite the multitude of comparisons above, taking Final Fantasy VII down a peg or two was not my intention even though it ended up being that way. Still, while people champion Final Fantasy VII for all the things touched upon in the opening paragraph, I found Wild Arms did the exact same thing for me – perhaps even more so - despite lacking the pedigree of its contemporaries. I also think the game contains more heart than a majority of the games it was put up against back in 1997 or that are released today, and quite honestly that’s something you can’t put a price on.
Overall Score: 9/10
"The struggle within..."
As a reader, I discovered the adventures of Greg Huffley during a nine month lull between job opportunities. Unlike our "hero" Greg, I can only play video games for so long before they lose their luster. Call it maturity call it what ever you want, I find it impossible to spend endless hours in front of a TV like I could in my youth, and in all honesty I wouldn't want to. Still, such personal revelations aside, I came across these books when I was looking for something non-video based to stimulate my mind and keep me sane during the aforementioned period. As if the popularity of the series wasn't enough of a clue, I ate the first three books up and quickly asked for seconds. A few months later I had "Dog Days" in my hands the day of its release. An hour after getting the book, I was more puzzled than entertained and the reason why would remain a mystery for quite a while.
Thankfully, that innocent little devil known as time as revealed to me why "Dog Days" and it's follow up "The Ugly Truth" aren't as strong as those in the original trio. In a nutshell, Greg Huffley, is a brat. I can't believe it took me four books to realize this but Greg is the poster child for the everyday, all-American brat who is incapable of appreciating anything. I know this probably isn't a surprising or interesting statement coming from someone who doesn't particularly like children or doesn't really care for reflecting on his own childhood (which is ironically what attracted me to these books in the first place) but it's downright hilarious - a.k.a. sad - that Kinney has made a fortune selling children a dead-on reflection of how fickle and shallow they can be. It's so brilliant it's like selling bottled water.
As nauseating as Greg's behavior has become, I find myself more attracted to Rowley and Mr. Jefferson. While I could never see Rowley headlining a series, it's amazing how Rowley is free of all the negativity that weighs Greg down. Rowley never lets anything get in the way of enjoying the moment (unless he's with Greg who isn't immune to outside pressures) and we all know when the two "break up" it's Greg who gets the short end of the stick and is miserable, not Rowley. As for Mr. Jefferson, I would get just as aggravated over Greg's antics, and I'd almost go as far as to disallow my *pretend* son to hang out with someone so thoughtless. Okay, so everything in Rowleyland isn't perfect - his parents are a bit too clingy and overprotective - but I think that's a decent trade off when compared to the delusions Greg's mother has about his "wonderful" summer at the end of the book.
CONCLUSION:
In the end, "Dog Days" is as intriguing as it is disappointing. The unfortunate part of such an equation is whether or not younger readers really understand the inner machinations of these characters - which ones should really be embraced and which ones should not. Maybe I'm not giving kids enough credit, but given the main character falls in the latter category and is so celebrated I'm somewhat doubtful of the message getting across. Kinney is a clever author so I'm sure this is all part of his plan, but in the end the results aren't always attractive.
Overall Score: 7/10
Emotions are an odd thing. So are memories. Often times these two aspects combine and form nostalgia, a very powerful and very entrenched position on a given object. Sometimes it crashes and burns after the years wear down the allure and sometimes it continues on uninhibited. I want to talk about an experience that has remained in full bloom ever since I first experienced it.
A few weeks ago I started up the Wild Arms for the original PlayStation. Sitting down and actually playing Wild Arms is a bit of an oddity because before buying a PlayStation 3 I really didn’t have a system capable of playing the game. My slim model PlayStation 2 seems to hate the game, oftentimes freezing at the beginning of a battle and my PS1 has a hard time running anything after my friend baked it to death after putting a PS2 on top of it when he borrowed it. Okay, so I had it downloaded on my PSP and could have played it at anytime, but there’s something about playing a hard copy of a given game I’m super fond of (and I need to test out many of the games I have given many of them aren’t the exact copies I played through years ago). Anyways, long story short, while I enjoyed my nearly thirty hour play through of the game more than enough, the impact the game didn’t strike me until the ending.
As far as endings go, Wild Arms has a pretty standard one as far as RPG go. The evil’s defeated, the world’s saved we all live happily ever after, but watching Cecilia talk to the downed Earth Golem (which would go by Asgard in Alter code:F) I couldn’t help but get a little teary eyed. I tried to shrug it off by thinking “oh, I have something in my eye” or “yawn, I’m so tired from doing nothing all day” but those we’re as baseless as the whole “it’s a man tear dammit” excuse. Still, I don’t think it was so much the ending as much as what the ending represented. What did it represent? Despite the fact I couldn’t in all consciousness give Wild Arms a prefect ten out ten in a review, the game is just damn beautiful man. Where others may see a by-the-numbers RPG that’s obscured by first-generation PlayStation graphics, I see much more. I see heart, something that’s oddly missing from the 2004 remake. Okay, so Alter code:F isn’t that bad but it still doesn’t have anything on the original, a game which is still more than okay in my book :)
"A Letter to Tomb Raider III: Lara Croft and the Search for Fun"
Dear Tomb Raider III,
I've been waiting for this day. While you were a no-brainer of a purchase for those that enjoyed Tomb Raider I and II, you and I have not been the best of friends. I mean really, how else could you explain the ten plus years between my initial play through when you debuted and the one I partook of for this review? I can easily take pleasure in what your predecessors have to offer, but when it comes to you I hesitate. It shouldn't take two days of ceaseless mulling to get a game into my PlayStation. So why, why do I cringe at the mere thought of playing you? How did you turn me away from your future successors? Alas, it's a long story, but a story that needs to be told.
Things weren't always this complicated. In the early going, you touted your slightly crisper graphics and touched up effects (like rain, water ripples, gun smoke, footprints, blood and fire) in an attempt to dress up and look sharp for your friends, as well as changing in-game secrets back to their former glory (ammo and health pickups) once again. Such high points aside, it's somewhat hard to pinpoint where it all went astray, so let's start out small. Why is it when I pick up some goodies, you no longer feel the need show me what I just picked up? Why so greedy with the info all of a sudden? Often times it's hard to determine what I just added to my inventory because your treasures are so dark and dingy – and small. Let's not forget small. What's up with these new, anorexic medi-packs? Were they too noticeable before or something? And what's up with the game's first key? Talk about lack of defining contrast! Combine this with your constant need to manipulate light and shadow and you can see how you're not exactly the most forthcoming game on the face of the planet.
Your phobia of being pilfered by big breasted, item raiding adventurers brings us to your weapon selection. Despite the lack of variety, things were great during your original incarnation: from the punch of the Magnums to the chatter of the Uzis, you provided great guns that complemented Lara's great mobility. Unfortunately, things started to go a bit south with the M16 and Harpoon Gun in Tomb Raider II. With an increase in gun wielding enemies, a gun that pretty much glued the player's feet the floor was a rather ill-conceived addition. Still, the M16 - and its newer counterpart the MP5 - look great when compared to the harpoon gun. Who in their right mind is going to engage enemies underwater when gaining the high ground is so much more effective? Let's not forget that piranhas, the greatest underwater threat in the game, can't be killed.
Okay, so it's not as bad as I'm making it out to be. The Desert Eagle is a fun little toy that doesn't feel as desperate as the Rocket Launcher, but when discussing your somewhat haphazard collection of firearms, let's not forget how important dual wielded weapons are to Lara. Even the vast majority of artwork Ms. Croft has posed for depicts her with the Pistols (the classic mainstay) or the Uzis. Sure, there are others like the one with the Harpoon Gun (laughs), the M16 and Automatic Pistol (which is part of a set) but unlike past adventures, it takes an incredibility long time for majority of your arms to prove their worth, if they ever do at all. That snazzy new shotgun is a great example, the orphan of the group that is never really allowed to come into its own. Such shortfalls are mainly due in part to the “mandatory loss of weaponry” segment that's a part of every Tomb Raider experience. First of all, this was clever the first two times it happened. Now that we've reached part three, it's no longer clever. Second, why do you feel the need to flitch all my ammunition and medi-packs? Like any wise spelunker, I spent most of my time in India conserving my supplies for long haul ahead only to be reminded you can be quite the kleptomaniac when you want to be. What if Nevada was the last area I explored before Antarctica? Thankfully it wasn't, but what about players who aren't so lucky and wind up at the end of the game with a depleted inventory? In all honesty, just admit that the “select adventure” feature is a bust and does nothing to make the game non-linear.
Another illusion masquerading under the guise of freedom is the Save Crystal system. While most of the discontent in this area is more-or-less born out of your indecisiveness throughout the years - three different titles with three different save systems – it's not hard to see how the portable save crystals were viewed as a novel idea. But with every new idea comes (unintended) consequences. With you throwing everything from A to Z at the player, it's not long before life and death paranoia sets in and questions like “how much longer can I press my luck before I screw up and die?” start weighing on the players mind. It rarely takes long to cross that line and when the greatest judge of what's been accomplished - you, the game - fails to gauge the player's progress a certain amount of liberty is lost.
Speaking of liberty, let's get to these massive playgrounds called levels. If the tone of this letter has been any kind of indication thus far, it shouldn't be any surprise that trouble rears its ugly head here as well. Your frills are quickly gunned down by India's flaccid jungles, rigorous waters and lifeless ruins. Now, you may just at the idea of ruins having any kind of life to them given the definition of the term, but there is a difference between creating something that is lifeless and something that employs lifelessness to create an abstract type of energy. There are small glimpses of this to be seen every once in a while, but it's often derailed by things like redundant backtracks, half-baked vehicle segments, blind jumps, questionable settings (Area 51?!) and contrived boss fights. Unfortunately, this body of problems only fosters disappointment once one realizes the variety presented by your locals is a facade. The London levels may come awfully close to forging their own identity but they eventually fall into the realm of interesting and interesting does not always mean good.
The final hurdle you seem to have trouble clearing is narrative. While none of the Tomb Raider games have had a story built for the ages, there's another concept (similar to the one we talked about when talking about level design) that seems to be lost on you. That concept? Presenting something cliché doesn't necessarily have to feel cliché. In fact, one of the most impressive things one can do is take something that's been done a million and a half times and make it feel like new. Tomb Raider's Natla and Atlanteans did this despite their obvious “been there, done that” vibe. Your own angle, the old “scientist obsessed with evolution becomes a big, grotesque monster bent on making his ultimate dream a reality with angry, poison spewing sea otters” never becomes anything, not even a tongue-in-cheek parody of itself. Adding further insult to injury is the fact Lara seems incapable of learning from past mistakes; working for other people never seems to work out too well for her or the world, does it?
So what does all of this mean? Well, to answer that question, we need to examine what you want people to notice about you. Since we've shot down the majority of additions already, we're left with what these additions were attempting to implement: an increase in challenge. It's a respectable goal given the relative ease of your predecessors, but it's how you get there – by trying to fire on all cylinders at once – that shows us just how ugly Tomb Raider can be. And while Tomb Raider has always had its share of problems, I don't believe anyone thinks this is the solution. Fun is not perpendicular to challenge here and you can't underestimate how important that is to a video game. This isn't to say that a challenging game can't be fun, but it's a slippery slope and the elements you surround it with can't provide enough traction to prevent the fall.
With everything you have to offer now laid bare, I can safely say my time with you was not in vain. This isn't to say it was a particularly good use of my time, or that every minute of it was enjoyable, but you know the old adage “it could be worse.” Quite honestly, it could be. There is little comfort in such words, but perhaps we'll run into each other again some day. Not too soon I hope; maybe in another ten to twelve years? Until then, you'll be leaving the light on for me, won't you?
Best Regards,
A PS1 junkie who values other elements over challenge
Overall Score: 5/10
"The best thing about Tomb Raider II? It's not Tomb Raider III."
Much like photographs, video games can be a gateway to a treasure trove of memories. While no piece of software could really trump the family photo album or a fictitious trip to the Grand Canyon, it is often ironic (sad) how a gamer can remember the first time they played a specific game but can't remember what eight times eight is. Anyhow, more often than not, games just don't define themselves, they define eras, technological advancement and consoles. For example, while games like Mortal Kombat 3 and Killer Instinct should probably be at the bottom of any system defining game list for the SNES, they are at the forefront of my thoughts when the console is mentioned because everybody I knew had them when I was in the sixth grade. And while they where popular for all the wrong reasons (well, Killer Instinct's combo system had more to offer than Mortal Kombat 3's violence) they were a part of the culture, and a part of my personal history despite how far they've fallen since.
A similar story reigns over Tomb Raider II and Final Fantasy VII, two of the biggest titles the PlayStation was packing around the 97' holiday season. After passing on the Nintendo 64 the previous year due to its scarcity, playing the original Tomb Raider on my cousins Sega Saturn and trying out the Final Fantasy VIII demo included in Tobal No.1, I was as hyped as everyone else. Who didn't want to play more Tomb Raider? Who didn't want to continue the adventures of that yellow, spiky haired character named after a particular atmospheric element? As enjoyable as both products ended up being in their heyday, what would the future have in store for them? When it comes to Final Fantasy VII, what can be said that hasn't already been said about its bizarre and somewhat overstated resurrection? Perplexing as that situation ended up being, what about game on the table here, Tomb Raider II?
While it hardly strays from the formula that made the first game the success it was, Tomb Raider II strays just enough in key areas to make topping the original impossible. Why isn't Tomb Raider II as good as Tomb Raider? The core reason has to do with an argument that has been made time and time again: the environments. Given that the name of the game is Tomb Raider, which of the following three locals would you least expect to explore: a tomb, a pyramid or... a... offshore oil rig? Like most, I just have question why you would take Lara out of the tombs when lightning clearly struck with that combination. Don't get me wrong, the level design it still very respectable, and I'll at least meet them halfway with the Maria Doria since it can be considered a makeshift tomb like the Titanic, but when you get the feeling that the game would be more appealing just by changing the texture mapping back to the colors that defined the original you have to admit there may be some problems brewing.
The other thing that drags down Tomb Raider II down is combat; not so much that there is a lot of it, but in what you're fighting: other humans. Supposedly, this change was born out of all the complaints Core received about the more natural enemies that populated the original, where actual gunfights were limited to the final few levels. Unfortunately, Core decided to listen to this idea so know we have every other loser cultist in the game running around with a sidearm, usually getting the first shot at you from a distance. Just perfect! I can't think of anything better than being turned into Swiss cheese before I have a chance to defend myself! Annoying as this becomes, it manages to balance out certain elements left unchecked in the first game.
Still, there happens to be another problem with Bartoli and his men. Does anyone even fear them or think they make are good villains? They may look pretty ugly, but that's about all. And while some of the game's cut scenes (like the one that concludes the Diving Area) would have one believe otherwise, the conflict between Lara and Bartoli never feels personal. Compounding this even further is the fact the danger experienced in the first level doesn't return until the end of the game in the Temple of Xian. Another issue that arises from Tomb Raider II's narrative has to do with keeping the Barkhang Monks on your side when raiding their monastery. Not only is this amusing, it saves a ton of ammo. Unfortunately, it raises an intriguing question: why would the monks leave Lara to her own devices in her quest for the dagger? They may practice non-violence until attacked, but letting Lara have such a dangerous item as a conversation piece is hardly the safest place for such an item; the hilarious, sexist ending proving her mansion is no Fort Knox.
As for what's new gameplay wise, we have the introduction of flares, ladder climbing, the mid air/water flip, and Lara's first few set of wheels: the snowmobile and motor boat. For the most part, these are all rather safe additions; they don't make the game seem overly desperate to evolve like Tomb Raider III's crawl and sprint or fudge up the control scheme with a million and a half commands. The snowmobile and boat present their own problems, as if that's a shocker, but they could literally apply for sainthood when compared to those in the third installment.
CONCLUSION:
With that last paragraph pretty much reiterating the title of this review, Tomb Raider II's best quality is the fact it isn't Tomb Raider III. That doesn't exactly bode well for the future of the series, but it does mean Tomb Raider II is good enough for most people to digest without worry. That said, time has shown that it had nothing on the original, and that it still doesn't.
Overall Score: 7/10
"One of two games that lured me away from the Nintendo 64"
In the world of gaming, opinions vary as much as the food we eat and the drinks we drink. In picking and choosing what we play and experience, we sometimes forget how important contrasting views can be and how even negative ones can be blessings in disguise.
As if the ten out of ten didn't tell you, I love Tomb Raider. Well, I love the original Tomb Raider. The sequels are a different story altogether, and while my feelings towards them depend on which one we're talking about, there was something about Lara's quest to find the three pieces of the Atlantean Scion that simply seized the teenager I was in 1997 and continues to do so today. So why was Tomb Raider so attractive, why did it (and Final Fantasy VII) lure me away from the Nintendo 64? Why was it the right game at the right time?
A lot of it had to do with entering those teenage years. After partaking in what the Super Nintendo had to offer I was unknowingly looking for experiences that felt and looked a little more mature than, say, a Mario game. I'm sure Mario 64 was (and still is) a great game (that I should sit down and play someday) but when looking back at the games I missed by choosing the PlayStation, I don't have any regrets. What I do regret is people taking a good game (Final Fantasy VII) and sticking it up on a pedestal because a) they can and b) it's the in thing to do. As aggravating as that can be, it's something the Tomb Raider has never had to deal with. The series has had its fair share of detractors from day one whom, for the most part, offer legitimate points of view. Quite honestly, I thank them for that, for keeping this game tethered to the ground when. That said, let's take a look at Tomb Raider, the good and the bad, and how it easily overcomes most of its problems.
In almost any discussion about involving Tomb Raider, the first thing that comes up is the controls. Seriously, it's almost a forgone conclusion. I'm willing to admit that when things get chaotic (like when battling a small handful of Atlantean Crawlers or mummies that just love to jump anywhere) the rigid control scheme can become a liability, but these moments are the minority. Unlike later games where just about every goon you encounter has a gun (groan) the vast majority of foes in Tomb Raider are creatures with no distance attacks. One-on-one you might be able to gun them down before they close the gap, but in tight spaces or against large numbers, gaining a height advantage can tip the scale in your favor. Some may consider this kind of play cheap since the enemies capable of climbing (Gorillas) are very limited in their ability, but just when the player gets comfortable with such a strategy the final levels throw a well placed curve ball in the form of full-on, projectile based combat.
At this point, jumping back and forth from left to right in quick succession becomes the most effective from of defense/offense. While this seems like a rather straightforward strategy to implement, a moving target being harder to hit than a stationary one, it also comes with a few perils. Acute knowledge of the surrounding area is extremely important so one doesn't fall prey to a trap (most commonly a slippery slope that leads to a pit) that leads to one's doom. Sometimes there isn't much, or any, time to acquire that knowledge before an enemy attack. This isn't really a case of the camera failing to keep up with the action, although the camera can become an issue if the player ends up slamming their back against a wall - something that's a one-way ticket to suffering some cheap hits. Additionally, this technique requires a bit more finesse than one would initially believe because of the slight pause between jumps. If an enemy fires a shot at the player at this juncture, there's a good chance it will connect, meaning the player needs to adjust their timing with a slight pause of their own so future openings don't fall in line with the enemy's attack pattern.
Luckily, while the above works well enough despite not being bulletproof, gunplay is only half of what Tomb Raider has to offer. In general, the controls hold up a bit better when the player is dealing with platforming where they have a little more time to plan and execute their moves, and is where the perks of the grid based system the game is built on makes up for it's graphical deficiencies. Lining up jumps is a breeze and unlike Tomb Raider Anniversary, where there is that feeling that something can go horribly wrong at any second, there is little to fear once you have the controls down. The concept of a walk button may seem archaic in this day and age, but it works and gets the job done. The only time the platforming sections really get into trouble is when obstacles require multiple, consecutive jumps (but these sections tend to occur above water filled areas that safety break any falls) and when the game baits you with an item that requires a specialty jump like a backwards jump and its lower trajectory. Typically, these will result in a few game overs until the player figures it out or just continues on their way.
Along with the running, gunning and platforming comes graphics and level design. As was mentioned before, the grid based system Core implemented does leave some things to be desired. Things like flat scenery, pixilated surfaces and box-like structures are commonplace, but then those things are commonplace in a lot of PlayStation games. That said, I have to lump Tomb Raider's level design with that of another prominent title, id Software's Doom. Even with all the limitations, the levels just pop from the screen and it really took a play through Tomb Raider Anniversary for me to realize how impressive even the lesser known parts of the game really are. Everything Crystal Dynamics set out to replace because it wasn't as "memorable" as the rest actually ended up being better than what they replaced it with. One of the best examples is the Lost Valley where the darkness that defined the level was completely disregarded with a sky and sunlight. In fact, Anniversary ditched a lot of what made the original game work, one of the most important aspects being the cramped and confined hallways.
Another thing the original Tomb Raider got right and the remake got wrong was the music. I'll just come out and say it, Nathan McCree totally hit the nail on the head here, he really did. Many criticize Tomb Raider for using music so sparingly, for its world being so quiet, but in reality it's actually quite brilliant. There may be one of four ambient tracks playing at any given time in a level, which aren't exactly impressive own their own, but it allows sound effects like gunshots and enemy screeches to pierce the silence and make their deafening impact. It's also makes the appearance of one of McCree's full-fledged pieces like "Battle in the Ancient Courtyard," "Ruins of a Lost Civilization," and "Architecture of the Past" so special, especially when the last two are played during moments of reprieve. Unfortunately, while some of these pieces made the transition to Anniversary, Troels B. Folmann drowns them in that over-bombastic orchestral crap that finds its way into many games produced outside of Japan.
Last but not least, we reach the focal point of Lara's quest: the storyline. While Tomb Raider's use of in-game and full motion videos is competent enough in fleshing out what is going on, most will still find it bare-bones, save the world fare. For the most part, they're right. Still, even with all the bad voice acting and one-dimensional foes, it's doesn't take much to realize that Natla is probably the best villain the series has ever seen. I mean who can you compare her to? Tomb Raider II's Bartoli? The best thing is it doesn't even end with Natla; even The Bald Man, Stakeboard Kid, Cowboy, Pierre and Larson beat the tar out of any baddies presented in any of the future games, and they are never really explored as characters. What's ironic is how much went wrong when Crystal Dynamics did explore these characters. I don't really need to know that Kold (the Bald Man) is a murderer; all I need to know is that he has my shotgun and I need it back. I don't need a scene where Lara feels bad for wasting Larson, and I don't want Cowboy nuked out of existence and combined with him. I didn't like it, and I took it personally.
CONCLUSION:
While some will obviously question whether or not my opinion of Tomb Raider teeters on the edge of fanboyism, I honestly feel it's more of a case where a fan is able to except the problems within without letting it taint all that was done right. Ten out of ten may seem generous, but it really doesn't when reflecting on how the game makes me feel when I play it, and when you think about it, isn't that what truly matters? Everyone has a guilty pleasure or two, and while Tomb Raider is guilty of a lot of things, I certainly can't hold it in contempt in my court.
Overall Score: 10/10
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