Month: July 2018

Game Bias’ 15 Greatest 2D Platformers List — Intro and Honorable Mentions

by Jed Pressgrove

In video games, jumping is as ubiquitous as shooting, and it’s often considered an essential part of the 2D platformer genre. But that’s not exactly the case from my view. Although the overwhelmingly majority of platformers involve jumping, there are historically significant games where you must move from platform to platform without jumping at all. This list will include entries that fit this description.

Some might wonder why I have chosen to focus on 2D platformers. The short answer is I don’t think 3D platformers have been that impressive on the whole over their roughly two-decade lifespan. I will consider putting together a list of the greatest 3D platformers, but it would be shorter than this one.

The honorable mentions below show that 2D platformers remain vibrant and fascinating. But before I reveal these selections, I do want to say that the 2D platformer, more so than any other video-game genre, is heavily associated with blind nostalgia. Fez, Shovel Knight, Celeste, and others bring shame to the art form by referencing or utilizing aspects of classics without surpassing or interrogating what came before them (see Fez’s Tetris, Mario, and Zelda allusions; Shovel Knight’s easygoing nods to Mega Man, Zelda II: The Adventure of Link, and Super Mario Bros. 3; and Celeste’s pixelated sprites, which look like god-awful mush during the game’s precious zoom-ins). We must look beyond what reminds us so much of the past.

As for why the following five games weren’t simply included as part of a 20 greatest 2D platformers list, I echo what I said in the intro to my 15 greatest shooters list: there are other honorable mentions I could name, but I want to highlight these choices for their unique appeal.

Platformance: Castle Pain (2010)

Unfortunately, this game might be forever lost after Microsoft abandoned support of Xbox Live Indie Games for the Xbox 360, but in case a port pops up somewhere, I must mention Platformance: Castle Pain by Magiko Gaming. This gem is simple: you can walk left or right, jump, or zoom in or out so that you can better detect and avoid obstacles on your way to rescuing a damsel (yeah, that trope is more worn out than a pair of 1980s blue jeans). The zooming mechanic is brilliantly executed. Let’s say you’re at the section where you need to traverse a long platform while jumping over arrows that are being shot at your back. You may want to attempt this trek with the default zoomed-in camera, reacting to the sudden appearance of a projectile behind you, or more cleverly, you can zoom all the way out so that you can see the game’s entire single stage — it resembles an elaborate living picture that one would hang on a wall — and thus the release of the arrows from their origin. Unlike Celeste’s phoned-in visuals, the pixel art here is superb whether it’s in your face or in the distance. The experience is brief like a children’s storybook and accompanied by an uplifting medieval-themed soundtrack, but Platformance: Castle Pain requires perfect timing and spacing to conquer its challenges as you move from checkpoint to checkpoint.

Rock Bottom (2014)

Amy Dentata’s Rock Bottom is a fantasy in which levels that represent a state of depression can be completed by counterintuitive means. The goal of Rock Bottom is to jump to higher platforms, but the only way to increase the power of your jump is to fall to your death. To further strengthen your legs, you must extend your fatal plunge by avoiding platforms as you fall from greater heights. If viewed cynically, Rock Bottom’s concept could be linked to suicide ideation, but I interpret its madness as wry hope for convenient change. Ultimately, the game is an affirmation of life after struggle, as suggested by the ending that celebrates the fact that the protagonist can finally jump without having to worry about escaping a hole.

The Duck Game (2013)

This quirky title from James Earl Cox III, one of the most fascinating and prolific developers of the decade, might not fit the traditional definition of a 2D platformer, but it effectively utilizes platforms in its depiction of a downward spiral of addiction and obsession. Absurdly, the protagonist is preoccupied with the idea of holding the legs of a duck as the bird flies. Unless you elect to hit “Escape” on your keyboard, you get to see what happens when the hero indulges in this practice. In addition to the trippy premise, visuals, and audio, the amusing part of The Duck Game is that the platforms don’t matter. When you’re flying high with the duck, the platforms are unnecessary for vertical advancement, and when flying with the duck becomes a problem (the protagonist stops caring about hygiene and everyday chores as the duck’s strength wanes), you can’t leap well enough to reach your previous high. The implication is that if the duck weren’t in the picture, you could go from platform to platform like a normal video-game character.

Iconoclasts (2018)

Because I played Joakim Sandberg’s Iconoclasts for the first time only a few months ago, and because it’s practically new, I don’t have the critical distance to state that it deserves to be on the main list. That’s what my head says. My heart says the game should go down as an all-time great. Iconoclasts’ combination of combat and puzzle-solving makes for some wonderful platforming moments, but it’s the storytelling I want to focus on here. Not only does this game have the most complex plot of any platformer I can recall, but it has the most conflicted depiction of faith and religion that I’ve seen in any video game, period. With a theatricality that recalls the interweaving dramas of Final Fantasy VI, Iconoclasts never lets you forget that it involves human beings with worldviews shaped by their individual experiences and convictions. This is the most ambitious 2D platformer ever made, and in almost every respect, it succeeds. (See my full review here.)

Octahedron (2018)

Yet another 2018 game that I will continue to keep in mind as I evaluate the history of 2D platformers, Octahedron’s ever-changing mechanics share center stage with a beyond-thirsty electronica soundtrack and neon-infused graphics that recall wild night clubs. The smooth and slippery movements of the platform-creating protagonist complement the pulsing beats and blanket-like textures of the music. A sensual powerhouse from developer Demimonde, this game is so sexy that one can feel dirty exploring every last part of its tunnel-like stages. (See my full review here.)

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Loaded Questions Vol. 10

Loaded Questions is a regular feature at Game Bias. If you have a question you would like to submit, please email it to pressgrove84@yahoo.com or tweet it to @jedpressfate. Questions can cover anything closely or tangentially related to video games or art, including but not limited to criticism, culture, and politics. Questions may be edited for clarity.

Question 1

Dani: Do you tolerate tank controls in games like Resident Evil 4 or God Hand? I read a piece where you talk about how this mechanic was awful in Silent Hill 2, but you have praised Resident Evil 4, so I’m curious why.

Jed Pressgrove: I haven’t played God Hand, but the protagonist in Resident Evil 4 controls fine as a tank, and it’s all due to perspective.

Before I go any further, I’ll explain what basic tank controls are for those who may not be familiar with them. In a game with tank controls, pressing “up” on a control pad or joystick will move you forward. To turn, you must press “right” or “left” on a pad or joystick, and when you turn, your avatar stops moving altogether. In other words, you can only move forward when you’re facing in the direction you want to move, but to face another direction, your avatar must pause and turn. Moreover, if you press “down” on a pad or joystick, your avatar will, depending on the game, do nothing or move in reverse without facing the opposite direction.

Regardless of whether you’re playing Resident Evil 4, Silent Hill 2, or Combat (which actually involves tanks), tank controls usually take time to get used to. But perspective, or the position of a game’s camera, can significantly impact your experience using this control scheme.

In Resident Evil 4, the camera is behind the shoulder of the protagonist; thus, the player is always looking in the same direction as the protagonist. This perspective allows tank controls to be more intuitive, as when you press “up,” the protagonist moves “up” into the background that he is facing. And because the perspective never changes, you’re tied to the eyesight of the character, which produces a strong connection between you and the avatar.

In Silent Hill 2, the camera angle changes dynamically depending on where you are walking in the environment, similar to the case in the original Resident Evil. The camera might be behind your character one moment, only to show a side view of your character in the next. And yet, the whole time, you’re expected to keep pressing “up” to move forward. The random changes in perspective are intended to be discombobulating, but I consider this a cheap trick that serves as a contrived reminder that you and your avatar are fundamentally at odds, and let’s not forget, the Resident Evil series already pulled this trick multiple times.

To me, the epitome of Silent Hill 2’s clunky stupidity is the early encounter with Pyramid Head where you have to keep running away from him in circles within a small room. The concept itself is silly and kinetically uninteresting, and the only reason it’s remotely tense is due to your avatar’s weird pauses in movement every time you have to turn (rather than any heightened connection between you and the avatar). The elongated routine completely destroys any suspension of disbelief that one might have, as no one in their right mind would awkwardly pause as they’re running away from such a destructive creature within an enclosed space.

Question 2

Kenji Madaraki: Is replayability a factor for you when deciding if a game is one of the greatest ever? I know that Indie Gamer Chick, for example, has stated that she doesn’t care much at all about replay value and will still put a game in her top 10 even if she liked it drastically less on a second playthrough. Has a game ever fallen out of favor with you to a considerable degree after you played it again?

Jed Pressgrove: I definitely fall more on Cathy’s (Indie Gamer Chick’s) side when it comes to replayability.

First, games are frequently addictive for various reasons, but just because a game is addictive doesn’t mean it’s great. Case in point, if you were to go by hours played to identify my top game of 2016, Street Fighter V would be the clear winner. However, I didn’t play Street Fighter V for hours and hours and hours because it was great. I did it because I’ve been playing the Street Fighter series since I was a young kid, and I’m very competitive when it comes to any of those games. Even though Street Fighter V isn’t that good (see my review here), I still got a rush from beating people online, so I played the game for a ridiculous amount of time.

Second, I don’t call a game “great” before going through a rigorous process of questioning my instincts and feelings and comparing the game’s strengths and weaknesses to those of various other games. There is no objective truth here, though I do have a lot of knowledge and experience to draw from when making these determinations. So while it can be helpful to replay certain games when I’m trying to rank them in a specific order, replayability doesn’t help me evaluate the various qualities of a game in a historical sense.

To answer your final question, sometimes replaying a game might make me think it’s not as good as I thought it was, but I can’t recall a single time when this has happened for a game that I consider one of the greatest ever, and that’s due to the second reason above. I don’t throw around “greatest” lightly.

Question 3

Cesar Marquez: What is art? What isn’t art? How can video games be art and sport at the same time?

Jed Pressgrove: Very broadly, art is something that involves craft and/or personal expression/style, and it can be appreciated by an audience as a display, statement, or performance. This definition allows quite a number of things to be art — from paintings to lawns, from chess to basketball, from cross-stitching to glassblowing. Art is not necessarily good, but I think it should be a very wide umbrella.

The main thing that I exclude from the artistic realm is advertising. If the sole purpose of something is to get you to spend money on something else, that thing is my sworn enemy as a critic and human being.

There is a competitive element to many games, so that’s why they can be sports, which can be art themselves. The art in games can be seen in their individual elements (music, visuals, etc.), what they express as a whole (Nier: Automata as a portrait of discrimination, Earthbound as a statement on the unifying power of faith, etc.), and what players can achieve (Dayo’s come-from-behind victory in Street Fighter III is beautiful and elating).