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The Ooze – Retro Review

It’s Slime Time

An oft-forgotten monster type in the preternatural pantheon (unless you’re a fan of JRPGs or Dungeons & Dragons, that is) is the humble ooze or slime. These corpulent masses of gelatinous gunk used to be a mainstay of the big screen in the era of B-movie horror, with Steve McQueen’s The Blob leading the way and such masterpieces as X the Unknown and Caltiki – The Immortal Monster also getting in on the sentient slime action.

Not to be outdone, Sega Technical Institute came up with the idea for a 16-bit video game with a focus on vengeful viscosity, offering ’90s kids the chance to live out every gamer’s dreams of becoming a formless, quivering mass of repulsive goop. They unleashed The Ooze in 1995.

The game is at its most entertaining when you’re slithering through cramped areas and Dr. Caine’s form assumes the shape of its surroundings.

The game kicks off with a simple cutscene detailing the dramatic story of how the titular ooze came to be. A scientist known as Dr. D. Caine uncovers a plot at a chemical plant involving an evil corporation unleashing a toxic gas amongst the populace and then making a killing selling the serum that cures its effects. Shocked and ashamed, as Dr. Caine was the one who invented the gas, our hero tries to put a stop to the corporation’s nefarious plans, only to be captured, injected with gunk, and disposed of with the rest of the sludge. The bad news for the bad guys is that Dr. Caine survived, gained a new, goopy form, and is out to stop their schemes and regain his humanity.

This schlocky set-up results in a top-down action adventure in which players are responsible for guiding the puddle that was Dr. Caine through a variety of levels, slapping various enemies with extendible, gooey tendrils, and utilising goop-spitting attacks to clear the way. As the ooze comes into contact with environmental hazards or enemy attacks the puddle will shrink in size, with Dr. Caine’s adventure coming to an untimely, slithery end if the puddle gets too small or his goopy head takes too many hits.

Dr. Caine’s fate is actually pretty brutal when you think about it.

Alas, controlling this bilious mass is a mixed bag. While it’s fairly satisfying to slither around and squeeze our slippery hero through gaps and around terrain, the choppy animation and lack of visual clarity as to Dr. Caine’s status do detract from the overall experience. It can be difficult to tell just how close our oozy hero is to expiration, resulting in some surprising game overs, and discouraging use of Caine’s slime spit attack as it takes away from his sludge reserves.

When it comes to presentation, The Ooze isn’t one of the Mega Drive’s finest. Sega Technical Institute, an American branch of the Japanese giant, were also responsible for Sonic the Hedgehog Spinball, and some similarities in the music and visual style are apparent, but that game is much more aesthetically and aurally memorable than this one. If The Ooze looked and sounded more like Sonic Spinball’s toxic caves opening level, it might have lingered longer in the minds and hearts of gamers, but it was not to be. Instead, The Ooze is a little bland visually and, in the earlier stages at least, looks strangely reminiscent of Bitmap Brothers’, The Chaos Engine, although less coherent in its artistic vision.

The Ooze got a fairly negative reception upon release, but this seems a little unfair. It’s an interesting game that’s entirely unique on the console. Moving the goopy protagonist around the stages is fun in its own way, and slurping up goop dropped by enemies to further bolster our hero’s mucilaginous form is a satisfying mechanic. The team at Sega Technical Institute had some great ideas, and for the most part, they implemented them well, but it just needed some additional polish and personality to take it to that next level of quality.

The game is actually kind of hard. You might find it easy though, being such an expert and everything.

It’s a tad expensive to pick up a complete copy nowadays, but if you do find the concept interesting and can play The Ooze through other means, I recommend giving it a go. You should at least have a decent amount of fun enveloping the minions of the evil corporation in your slithering, overwhelming, coagulated, quivering folds. That’ll show ’em ooze boss.

This article was written for a now-defunct Sega magazine and never used. Played on Mega Drive via emulation.

Foundation

A City-Builder That You Just Might Dig

Developed by Polymorph Games and reaching full release on 31^st January 2025, Foundation is a laid-back city-builder with a peaceful, pastel tone and a light-hearted approach. The game launched into early access on 1^st February 2019 and, according to my Steam purchase history, I picked it up in March of 2019. It wasn’t much of a game back then – the UI was an ugly mess, the graphics were super-basic, the tech trees were incomplete, and much of the gameplay was totally unrefined. That’s the nature of early access, and it’s not something I mess with often, but something possessed me back in those care-free, pre-pandemic days, and now that the game is finally out, I definitely don’t regret buying it.

The main thing that Foundation does to differentiate itself from similar city-builders is its organic building placement. There’s no grid system, and the player doesn’t place roads, with paths occurring naturally on regularly used thoroughfares, just like the classic Settlers games. You can place any building absolutely anywhere inside your territory and your villagers will react accordingly once they’ve been assigned to the jobs there. Residential buildings are zoned rather than placed directly, with players using a paintbrush tool to highlight areas where the villagers can build their houses, and this same tool is used to highlight which resources should be extracted and even which areas your villagers aren’t allowed to tread.

Did you ever play with plastic farm animals and fences when you were a kid? This is that, but digitally.

Certain buildings are heavily customisable, from churches to inns to castles, and even the lord’s manor. When planning such works of architectural wonder, you’ll be selecting from various rooms, entrances, wings and decorations until you’ve got the layout you like, and once things are finalised your builders will get to work – if they’re not buying berries from the local market or sitting around on a bench, that is. The decorations will tend to increase your settlement’s “splendor” in one of three categories; labour, kingdom, and clergy, which will unlock new levels of building in these categories. Labour tends to encompass your market and your lord’s manor, clergy goes towards churches and monasteries, and kingdom grants you the ability to fortify your settlement and build watchtowers and castles. Fully upgrading these majestic works tend to be your end goal, and depending on whether you’re feeling regal, religious, or like a man of the people, you can choose an appropriate goal at the start of the game, or just do whatever you want and treat the whole thing like a big, medieval sandbox.

Foundation strikes an addictive balance between keeping things relaxing while still providing moderately challenging resource chains and progression requirements to get to grips with. It’s not difficult to get high level residential areas in your growing town, but it’ll take some time and provide you plenty to think about along the way. You might even need to partake in a bit of forward planning.

The higher-level residential buildings require nearby beautification, paved roads, and more. Fussy, these posh types.

The game’s visuals match its laid-back vibe, with cartoony villagers and brightly-coloured houses all nestled into a cosy, storybook countryside. At times, especially once I started to surround my settlement with a lovely palisade fence, Foundation’s visuals really took me back to my childhood days of lying on the sofa reading Asterix comics, and that’s a good thing. At the time of writing there is no day/night cycle, but you can manually change the visual ambience from daylight to rainy to night-time and to sunset, just in case you want to imagine the diminutive Gaul and his pals enjoying a lavish victory banquet under the setting sun right there in your village. There are enough boars in the forests to keep Obelix busy, that’s for sure.

While Foundation does enable you to build castles, erect defensive walls, and enlist soldiers, there is no combat in the game (again, at the time of writing), with soldiers instead sent out on missions, earning your settlement reputation and occasionally bringing back spoils. Your villagers will also appreciate feeling secure, with a decent level of local fortifications and patrols being prerequisites for higher density housing. If you want actual fighting, though, you’re probably better off with Manor Lords.

“If you find yourself riding alone through green fields with the sun on your face, do not be troubled, for you are in Elysium, and you’re already dead!”

Incidentally, the mighty Manor Lords, still in early access at the time of writing, is another game that I bought before its full release. While the two games go for completely different visual styles, and Foundation doesn’t seem to concern itself too much with historical accuracy, the two games have very similar mechanics. It’s not exactly fair to compare a game that’s fully released with a game that’s still in early access, but I will say that I enjoy Foundation more than I enjoy Manor Lords for now. Obviously, this could change drastically, but as things stand, I’d heartily recommend Foundation for those who’re still finding Manor Lords a bit short on content and goals, and don’t mind some cartoony visuals in lieu of Manor Lords’ historically accurate buildings and gorgeous rolling hills that look exactly like the views from nearby beauty spots here in sunny Somerset.

Foundation doesn’t go for this kind of realism, but if you like the idea of an organically growing cartoon village, customisable buildings and monuments, and a low-pressure, relaxing sandbox to lord over your bright-eyed little medieval peasants in, then you should definitely give it a try. It’s easy to pick up and quite difficult to put down. The gradual progress is addictive and the constant balancing act of keeping your villagers happy and your supply lines running makes it far too easy to just keep playing, even if you really need to be cooking dinner or picking up the child from her youth club or whatever. Yes, I am speaking from personal experience.

A sprawling monastery overlooks a developing town, and in the distance, the beginnings of a mighty fortress stand atop a hill.

If you remember playing the classic Settlers games, and occasionally miss its light-hearted, addictive style (and the way the roads and paths appear organically), then Foundation will definitely scratch that itch. If not, then give it a try anyway, you might find yourself fascinated by your organically growing medieval settlement, and become enthralled in the act of creating a beautiful little ancient Gaulish village of your own. Watch out for Romans, though, okay?

Gauntlet IV

Warrior, Valkyrie, Wizard, Elf, and a Couple of Legendary Bards

The idea of the Gauntlet games always appealed to me as a kid. It had that exotic-yet-comfortable classic fantasy vibe, featuring swords and sorcery, Valkyries and barbarians, and hordes of evil minions to slay in the name of justice (probably, I never paid too much attention to the storyline), but it combined this with a heavy dose of good old-fashioned, co-operative multiplayer. The venerable series takes an arcadey approach to dungeon crawling, with its fast-paced, projectile-based combat, maze-like levels, and constantly dwindling health reserves designed to suck up your coins, and leaves concepts like party management and stat wrangling to the likes of Wizardry and SSI’s Gold Box series of stuffy D&D games.

In 1993, a game called Gauntlet IV was released exclusively for the Sega Mega Drive. Developed by M2 and published by Tengen, it served as a sequel as well as a remake, providing a port of the original game as its “Arcade Mode”, and adding in a unique “Quest Mode”, where players could purchase items and access limited character levelling.

The controls are tight and it’s satisfying to lay waste to hordes of enemies. It’s easy to get overwhelmed, though.

The game is good; a very competent translation of Atari’s original title with plenty of added content and four player multiplayer available across Arcade, Quest, and Battle modes. The tried-and-tested Gauntlet gameplay survives intact and the twists put on the formula by M2 are welcome. The graphics are fine, if a little dull (the dragon bosses added in Quest Mode are very flat and barely-animated), the digitised voices are kind of a mess but have a janky charm, and there’s enough content to keep enthusiasts occupied for weeks. A sterling game, but unremarkable by the stellar standards of the Mega Drive’s top titles. Here in 2025, Gauntlet IV is all but forgotten, and it’s no real surprise, as there isn’t a whole lot about the game that makes it stand out.

Well, apart from the fucking incredible music, that is.

That’s right – this isn’t one of my retro reviews, this is a love letter to one of the most overlooked soundtracks on Sega’s 16-bit banger factory, as when it comes to perfectly-realised musical accompaniment, Gauntlet IV is (in my opinion) right up there alongside the three big S’s, Sonic the Hedgehog, Shinobi, and Streets of Rage. The soundtrack was produced by a pair of musical wizards; Hiroshi Sakimoto and Masaharu Iwata, whose best-known works include Final Fantasy Tactics and Final Fantasy XII, and combines Conan-style, bleak, heroic fantasy fare with atmospheric electronica to masterful affect.

It may not look like much, but by the four elemental towers does it sound great.

If you look up this soundtrack on YouTube or some other soundtrack-storing app or website, you’ll find that the first five tracks consist of a somewhat generic-sounding main title theme followed by four tempo-shifted versions of a rather grating “Treasure Room” song. You’d be forgiven for writing off the soundtrack as forgettable, uninspired plinky-plonk at this point, but I advise pushing on through, as 16-bit, dark fantasy masterpieces await the determined.

For the last part of this article, just for fun and to indulge myself a bit, I’m going to pick out some of the musical highlights and attempt to flex my creative writing muscles to describe the atmosphere each tune evokes to me. If you read this, perhaps check out the soundtrack and see if it takes you to the same magical places.

Whisper of Phantom

A lone traveller crosses a barren swamp where once a great battle was fought. The warrior’s heartbeat pulses, gripped with fear as he peers into the unnatural darkness, the shapes of twisted trees and the shattered remnants of ancient fortifications looming like spectres from an unnatural mist. Hulking scavenger birds peer from their gnarled perches and unseen creatures skulk in the muck and fog. A lonely pipe or flute plays a distant, unsettling tune that calls to the ghosts of warriors that still haunt this place, the notes occasionally threatening to bring a tone of hope, but always descending into loss and loneliness, perfectly suited to this forsaken, haunted land.

Sortie

A hero returns home from a triumphant victory, the high walls of the city topped with rows of baying admirers and draped with shining pennants. The hero has triumphed through strength of arms, and his servants bring carts loaded with treasures from another land and decorated with grizzly trophies of an ancient and hated foe. The people are elated, foreseeing a time of wealth and plenty, but every great victory comes at a cost, and an ominous, orange sun sets as the mighty gates close behind the hero’s retinue, painting the city’s walls in a blood-red glow. Tonight, though, is a time for rejoicing. They can worry about the future tomorrow.

Adventures of Iron

A band of stalwart warriors defend the walls of a mountain fortress as a storm descends across the walls. The fortress is a rare bastion of good in a barren and savage land, and dark hordes accompanied by furious beasts ascend the rocky slopes. Lumbering giants scale the walls with ease, only to be met by the axes and arrows of the heroic defenders, and minions of the dark gods astride snapping wyvern mounts descend from the darkened skies, but many are brought low by hurtling ballista bolts, their winged corpses crashing on the mountainside below. The tide of the battle is slowly turning. This encounter will be hard fought yet, but beams of golden light begin to penetrate the clouds.

Transparent Obstacle

A group of adventurers have been tempted into a crystalline cave by a malicious spirit. Deep inside, a supernatural light shimmers along shining surfaces, and all sense of space is lost. Powerful treasures and untold riches sit in out-of-reach places beyond thick walls of clear crystal. A jade statuette appears to move out of the corner of an eye, a spoke of radiant, near-invisible thread seems to vibrate, like the web of some unseen arachnid. A passage descends into the earth, both ominous and enticing. The adventurers gather their wits and press onwards, and from some unseen location, an unknown intelligence watches them closely through the eyes of its skittering familiars.

There you go, and I only used a thesaurus once.

Drainus

Not Without My Drainus

I don’t feel all that qualified to assess Drainus. I really like a good shoot-’em-up, and have lots of respect and nostalgia for the genre, but I’m actually shockingly bad at them. Whether I was begging my parents for change just to instantly get shot down on the 1942 arcade machine they had at a local pub, or never getting past the first level on the likes of Hellfire and Thunderforce II on the Mega Drive, I don’t exactly have the skill-set to excel at anything resembling “bullet hell”.

Drainus is fucking cool, though. I mean, don’t get me wrong, that title obviously doesn’t come across very well to a native English speaker, but everything else about the game is about as close to perfect as a shoot-’em-up can get.

In Drainus, which was initially released in 2022 and developed by Team Ladybug (who also developed one of my game diary subjects, Record of Lodoss War: Deedlit in Wonder Labyrinth), players take on the role of Irina, a young lady with a strong sense of justice and a haircut that made me think she was a boy. She’s an excellent pilot, and she’s been hiding out from an evil space empire while trying to find a cure for her extremely sick “daddy”.

It’s probably not hardcore enough to be called Bullet Hell by real genre aficionados. Bullet Heck, maybe?

She’s accompanied by a time-travelling “humanoid” pilot called Ghenie, who looks like something in between Slippy Toad and the drummer from Interstella 5555, and between the two of them they have to fight through the Kharlal Empire’s humongous fleet of deadly weaponry, tie up nasty time paradoxes, and deal with Irina’s sister, Layla, who happens to be second-in-command of the Empire’s forces (and yes, even though she’s clearly older and more together, she refers to their dad as “daddy”, too).

Luckily, thanks to Ghenie, Irina has found herself in the pilot seat of a “Drainus”, an advanced experimental craft that can adsorb energy from light-based weapons and unleash it upon the enemy in the form of a powerful homing attack. This ability, on top of presumably being responsible for the game’s unfortunate title, provides Drainus‘ unique twist – a mechanic that allows players to absorb certain types of attack in a similar vein to Ikaruga, and also to take the offensive in interesting ways.

This results in gameplay that encourages a daring play-style. In order to get the upper hand against the swarms of basic enemies, challenging mini-bosses and overwhelming stage bosses, players will have to suck up otherwise devastating beam attacks and unleash them at the right time, taking chunks out of the health bars of hard-to-reach enemies.

There’s also a question of timing, as you can’t just fly your Drainus around without a care in the world, sucking up all of the enemy projectiles willy-nilly. Hold down the button for too long and the ship’s energy absorbing apparatus will fail, leaving you vulnerable while it charges up again. Also, you can’t suck up physical projectiles (handily highlighted with a red outline), so constant vigilance is required.

Throughout the game, players will be collecting power that can be spent at any time in the game’s menu to upgrade their ride’s weapons and other systems, meaning that there’s plenty of different ways to customise your gameplay. You can even upgrade your energy absorption bar, meaning you’ll be able to hold down the button and tank that super-boss’ screen-filling beam weapon for even longer. It’ll make you feel powerful, but you’ll need all that power to take on the rapidly-escalating threat of the legions of bosses, synchronised enemy fleets, and stage obstacles that the game will throw at you.

I actually found myself fairly interested in the story, too, and was invested in how Irina and Layla’s relationship would develop. There’s even a bit of a fake-out ending, and the game handles its time-travel story in a way that keeps things interesting until the very end. That’s coming from someone who has a major aversion to time-travel stories outside the first two Terminator flicks.

Another possible explanation for the game’s unattractive name is that the developers might have wanted it to sound a bit like Darius or Gradius.

The game also lets you continue as much as you want, even saving your progress through a level when you pick it up and try again, and this is the only reason I was capable of finishing the campaign. I got shot down my fair share of times, but I still felt like some kind of badass, bullet hell pro when I saw those credits roll, and I came back for more, too. There are also unlockable difficulty levels and an arcade mode for those looking to prove themselves in the pilot’s seat.

On top of all of its accoutrements and imaginative gameplay elements, though, Drainus manages to do the basic stuff perfectly. The game looks fantastic, the controls are crisp and poised to perfection (the whole thing looks and plays superbly using the Switch’s handheld mode), and the music is toe-tapping throughout.

My favourite power-ups are the ones that attach a formation of blaster-equipped pods to your ship.

I imported the physical Switch version of Drainus based on the fact that I wanted a nice shoot-’em-up on the console and that I’d heard some good things here and there. I’m really glad I did, as Drainus has proven to be yet another prize specimen indie title in my physical Switch collection. With this and Record of Lodoss War: Deedlit in Wonder Labyrinth in the bag, Team Ladybug are now two for two on exemplary games that get an emphatic thumbs up from me.

Wait, are Team Ladybug the new Treasure? Drainus certainly feels like a 2D classic in the vein of Treasure’s legendary output, but maybe it’s a little hasty to compare the two just yet. I’ll definitely be keeping an eye on what the ladybugs get up to in the future, though. When they’re not sitting around on leaves eating aphids, that is.

Tumblepop

A Tumble in the Jungle

As a small child with a wide-eyed interest in the natural world, I embarked on one or two trips to a place called the Tropiqaria in West Somerset. It was (and still is) a small tropical house and zoo built in and around an old BBC radio transmitter. I have two memories from visiting the Tropiquaria; one school trip during which I held a snake around my neck (they’re dry, not slimy!) and one trip with my parents where I sank a few coins into the single arcade machine that stood near the snack bar.

Over the following thirty years I would think about this game every now and then, surrounded by snakes, lizards and tropical flora as it was, but could never remember the name. It was a single-screen platformer along the lines of Bomb Jack but with a bit of a Ghostbusters vibe; the characters had vacuum guns with packs on their backs, and you’d suck up enemies into your pack and then fire them at other enemies. It was bright and colourful and whimsical, and something about it burrowed into the back of my mind and found a permanent home there.

Incredibly, by using the modern art of “Googling it” I have managed to identify this mysterious game from my youth, so I’d like to bring your attention to Tumblepop, released in 1991 and developed by Data East. Tumblepop is an arcade platformer for up to two players starring a pair of ghost hunters who travel the world, sucking up spooks and blasting them into their allies. The machine was published by Namco in Japan, a company called Leprechaun Inc. in the US, and a company called Mitchell Corporation in Europe. Despite sounding very English, the Mitchell Corporation was apparently a Japanese developer and publisher, and somehow delivered a Tumblepop cabinet to a random exhibition of tropical animals in the depths of the English West Country. Strange how things work out, isn’t it?

The Japanese stages take place during sunset, just like in Road Rash 3. Wait, it’s probably sunrise, come to think of it.

Thanks to the modern gift of emulation, I spent some time today playing Tumblepop on my desktop PC using a USB Nintendo Switch controller, and I have to say I had a pretty good experience with it, despite there being very few lizards nearby. The game definitely has an air of Bomb Jack about it, with its single-screen layouts and backgrounds featuring world landmarks, but the rainbow-hued suction beams of the magic vacuum guns add a whole extra dimension to the gameplay.

After selecting the nation they’d like to save from a simple world map, players will battle through a number of stages, slurping up a variety of enemies as they work their way towards a boss battle. The gameplay is simple and satisfying, and it’s not as tricky as a lot of arcade platformers, but it’s still easy to get caught out with so many enemies packed into the single-screen areas that are capable of attacking from above and below. As you progress through the stages, projectile-spewing baddies will begin to appear, as well as baddie-producing generator-type enemies that take a couple of hits to remove.

Each location has a boss waiting at the end of it, and the bosses tend to dominate the screen and represent an interesting change of pace. Despite each boss encounter having its own simple gimmick they all have the same solution; suck up their minions and empty the tank right in their enormous, ugly faces. Oh, don’t hold the suck button down for too long though, or your guy’s backpack will explode and you’ll lose a life. It’s a tragic and shameful way for a ghost hunter to go out.

Remember when that giant octopus terrorised New York? Yeah that was crazy.

As far as I can tell, Tumblepop was never ported out of the arcade with the single exception of a Game Boy version that was later released for the Nintendo 3DS Virtual Console, meaning that outside of emulation there’s no way of playing Tumblepop in full, living colour – unless you want to track down what must now be an exceptionally rare and obscure arcade machine, that is. I wonder if the Tropiquaria still has theirs? Maybe I’ll go over there soon and check it out. Worst-case scenario; I get to see some turtles.

Devilish – Retro Review

Bounce Your Balls Through Spooky Halls

If there’s one thing that Atari’s block-bashing 1976 arcade hit, Breakout, needed to make it a little bit more eye-catching, it was a sinister sprinkling of ghosts, ghouls, demons, and other monstrosities. Japanese software developer, Genki, thought so anyway, and came up with Devilish for the Game Gear, an unholy take on the paddle-based, ball bouncing, Breakout formula.

Before we get into the gameplay, though, let’s take a look at exactly why a pair of elegant-looking paddles are bopping a mystical ball around a selection of menacing locations. The legend goes that a prince and a princess were in love, and a jealous demon turned them into a pair of stone paddles. That’s the first thing the demon thought of, apparently. Not frogs. Not statues. Paddles.

The boss fights take place against a plain, black background – as was the tradition at the time.

Unfortunately for said demon, a mystical and mysterious ball came into existence that the paddle-prince and paddle-princess could use to absolutely batter the demon’s minions and fortifications, Odama-style. This all results in a pair of stony sovereigns bashing a beautiful blue ball into blocks, bricks, bad guys and boogeymen, all in the name of love.

The game takes place across six scrolling stages, with players able to select from a number of paddle configurations and move the top paddle higher or lower into the screen. The aim is to reach the end of the stage within a strict time limit, with points awarded for blocks broken and monsters flattened.

It’s a fun idea and a nice, occult take on the Breakout formula which is ideal for handheld gaming. It can occasionally feel frustrating, with the bouncing physics often hard to predict, and certain enemies and obstacles seemingly designed to get under your skin with their time-wasting bullshit, but when you get it right and bust through vast sections of a stage with ease, it can feel pretty satisfying.

The guy in the hat makes the other zombies dance. It’s probably referencing some obscure ’90s thing…

The time limits for each stage are very tight, and with only six stages and many sub-two minute target times, a full play through of this demonic adventure will take you less than a quarter of an hour, once you’ve mastered the gameplay, that is.

Short life-span aside, Devilsh is an entertaining Breakout clone with a liberal dose of blasphemous imagery mixed in for good measure, and high score-chasers will have a rollicking time flinging their paddles about with righteous, ball-blasting fury. Be a bit careful with them, though. They’re royalty, remember.

Sinister Sequel

If roughly fifteen minutes of demonic paddle-spanking isn’t enough for you, there is more to be found out there if you’re willing to enter the shadowy realms of importing, console modding, or emulation. Known as Bad Omen in Japan and Devilish: The Next Possession in America, this fiendish follow-up was developed by Aisystem Tokyo, and reuses the plot and gameplay of the original, sprucing up the visuals, adding multiplayer, and drawing out the length a bit.

It’s more of the same but bigger and better (and with a pretty badass front cover, too), but us here in Europe were deemed unworthy, and the pair of monarchical paddles never landed on our fair shores. Not releasing the cool, fiendish sequel in Europe? That’s a paddlin’.

This article was written for a now-defunct Sega magazine and never used. Played on Game Gear via emulation.

Prodeus

Become a Vessel of Destruction

Despite not being a “boomer” (I’m D-Generation X, baby), I’m quite fond of Boomer Shooters. Anything that reminds me of simpler times blasting away on the likes of Duke Nukem 3D and Hexen on my Sega Saturn is going to have a decent shot at earning my affections. Also, I like that they don’t tend to be too much of a time commitment, and can make for a straightforward and violent palette cleanser between lengthy RPGs or modern cinematic action games that demand lots of hours and dedication.

These days, I tend to try to be a physical-only gamer, as I enjoy feeding the shelves in the rumpus room almost as much as I enjoy playing a good video game, and in the last few years I’ve finished the (as far as I’m aware) only three Boomer Shooters that you can buy physically for the Nintendo Switch: Ion Fury, Warhammer 40,000: Boltgun, and now, finally, Prodeus.

You’ll be mowing down so many minions of Chaos you’ll think you were playing Space Marine 2! (I completed that, too, by the way)

I didn’t write about the first two games so I’ll very briefly sum up my opinions on them here. Ion Fury is a fantastic Duke Nukem 3D love-letter that has been tastefully modernised in all the right places, and Warhammer 40,000: Boltgun is a satisfying blast through the endless minions of Nurgle and Tzeentch that often pushes Nintendo’s ageing HDMI-enabled tablet beyond breaking point when it comes to framerate.

That leaves Prodeus, which I purchased sometime in 2024 and finally got around to playing in January of 2025. The game was developed by Bounding Box Software and was the result of a successful Kickstarter campaign. It offers multiplayer content as well as a single player mode, but I don’t dabble with multiplayer these days. I like my peace and quiet, you know? This will be a review of the campaign only.

The plot of Prodeus is purposefully left fairly ambiguous. From what I can fathom from the pre-stage descriptions, the game takes place on an asteroid that’s being mined for fuel (and possibly artefacts) and two opposing, interdimensional forces have converged on said asteroid to enact some kind of cosmic war. These two forces are Chaos, who have a demonic vibe and can apparently turn human soldiers into Doom-style zombies, and Prodeus, who are technologically advanced entities of light who can wrest control of Chaos’ demonic units, turning them into upgraded, blue-tinted versions of themselves.

As for the protagonist? Well, it’s hard to tell. There’s an opening sequence where they get killed horribly and then awoken in some kind of tank, and in-game text occasionally refers to them as a “Vessel”, but that’s about all you’ve got to go on. The Doom-style portrait at the bottom of the screen (that appears more skull-like as you take damage), has a cybernetically-enhanced super-soldier aesthetic, so maybe they’re some kind of Prodeus experiment that went rogue, but it’s all a bit vague. The setting is compelling enough, though, and you won’t be thinking too hard about the nuances of character development when you’re blasting something’s face off with four concurrent super shotgun shells.

Which one is the Keymaster and which one is the Gatekeeper?

All of the guns in Prodeus are great, and the game starts you off simple with a very satisfying pistol. All of the usable weapons are split across five different types of ammo, and each ammo type will feed every weapon in that class. These are bullets, shells, rockets, energy and chaos, and the different guns in the various classes all do a fine job of staying relevant as you unlock new implements of destruction. Even weapons that you’d think would be very similar or just straight upgrades, like the shotgun and the super shotgun, are different enough to drastically change gameplay. The shotgun fires more shells before needing to reload and has a secondary mode that’s a bit more effective at range, while the super shotgun can fire all four loaded shells in a satisfying blast that’ll leave all but the most elite enemy types with a severe case of bloody dismemberment.

Speaking of which, the blood effects are on point, too, with enemies exploding very satisfyingly and painting floors and walls in a tasteful shade of crimson. If a baddie pops in a tight enough space its insides will even cover the ceiling, and this results in a generous period of dripping gore, giving the game a very violent and visceral air.

Even when they’re not covered in copious helpings of tomato sauce, Prodeus’ environments look great. The visuals are purposefully very pixelated (although it looks less so in motion than the screenshots would have you believe), but the game still has a sleek feel with heaps of atmosphere. Many of the locations are quite alien and abstract, especially once you enter the Prodeus dimension, and the whole thing is built on a very dark base colour scheme with orange or blue highlights depending on whether Prodeus or Chaos are in the ascendancy at that point in the campaign. The game could be accused of looking quite samey, but a couple of highlights, like the Space Station or the dark, rainy ocean environment in the Trench level, do manage to provide some memorable focal points along the way.

As for the gameplay; it’s extremely solid. The controls are crisp and responsive, I only noticed two sections where the framerate took a noticeable hit, and the enemy variety keeps things interesting right through to the end of the game, in part thanks to the more-powerful Prodeus-controlled versions of Chaos enemies that appear later on. While most levels consist of moving through environments, locating the odd key card, and taking out groups of enemies as you go, some stages are straight up arenas that throw enemy waves of ascending difficulty at you, just to keep things spicy. The aforementioned key card hunting doesn’t overstay its welcome either, and serves as a nice throwback to similar mechanics in the games Prodeus is so clearly influenced by.

The Prodeus campaign is a dark and dismal, viscera-soaked treat for fans of old-school FPS action, and the “boomer shooter” style gameplay is spot on. There are plenty of difficulty levels to dabble with, depending on whether you want to barely survive each encounter as a wounded, bloody wreck, or feel like an invincible god-warrior who effortlessly leaves a gory wake of destruction in their path. The locations are grimy, intimidating, and occasionally awe-inspiring, and the music, while not necessarily all that memorable, provides a fine accompaniment to the flying bullets, plasma, and Chaos energy.

The environments get quite a bit more ominous as you progress.

Where would I rate it alongside Ion Fury and Warhammer 40,000: Boltgun, you ask? Well, that’s a tough one. For thrills and personality, I’d rank it just below Ion Fury, but then, Duke Nukem 3D was the shooter I jammed with the most when I was but an eager young gamer. I’d probably say Prodeus plays a little better than Boltgun, though, just feeling that little bit crisper and clearer, although the fact that I played both games on the Switch could be affecting that decision.

Still, they’re all winners in my eyes, and that’s the important thing. Now I’m just waiting for that perfect modern re-imagining of Hexen to come out physically on the Switch. I heard Graven turned out to be a bit of a let-down though. Shame, that.

Krusty’s Super Fun House – Retro Review

Can’t Afford the Exterminators? Send in the Clowns.

Hey, kids! Remember when Krusty the Clown was just Homer Simpson with funny hair and a red nose? No? Well, playing Krusty’s Super Fun House for the Mega Drive will probably jog your memory. In this platformer-puzzler, you’ll play as the titular troubadour as he collects pick-ups, opens doors, leaps from platform to platform, and herds dumb rodents to their cruel and brutal fates. Imagine Lemmings, but in reverse; instead of trying to save the conga-line of critters, you’re attempting to lead them to their untimely demise for the sake of a rodent-free fun house. No one likes rats in their fun house.

Is flattening the rats with a comically oversized boxing glove really the best idea they could come up with? Bart and Krusty, I mean, not the developers.

Players control Krusty directly, his cutesy, deformed sprite sporting a lolling, open-mouthed, buffoonish grin. Krusty circa 1992 is a far cry from the hard drinking, hard gambling, chain-smoking malcontent we know and love today, and players must guide this wholesome version of Krusty around increasingly complex levels, finding collectibles, fending off enemies, and redirecting rodents. Every single rat needs to be mercilessly splattered before Krusty can exit the level and move on, with hidden areas generally containing random pick-ups that contribute to a superfluous-feeling points tally.

The actual vermin-guiding is achieved by finding moveable blocks and placing them around the levels. The rats can step over a single block, but will reverse direction if they hit anything that’s two blocks or higher. Using this information, and the various fans, pipes, and other such paraphernalia scattered about the fun house’s funtastic hallways, players can apply their clever clown brains to place blocks in the correct place so that the rats resume their inexorable march to doom. Things can get quite tricky, with solutions often requiring lateral thinking, extensive trial and error, and quick wits, if the rats are to be located and directed before they can permanently evade capture.

The rat-catching gameplay is fine, but Krusty’s Super Fun House is filled with a lot of unnecessary fluff. The enemies seem mostly redundant and randomly placed, and the stages are almost all far larger than they need to be. Each stage will have a section designed to funnel the rats around, and then an often vast swathe of nondescript back-rooms to explore with no compelling motive.

What part of the Fun House is this? The unnecessary and nonsensical part, that’s what.

The rodent herding is cool, the graphics are okay, and the fun, old-school Simpsons vibe is part of our shared social history, but Krusty’s Super Fun House just ends up feeling a little bit empty. Maybe a lodger will help the place feel more lived in – I heard Sideshow Bob is looking for a place to stay again.

Paint It Yellow

Krusty’s Fun House was released on multiple formats (with the 16-bit iterations adding the “Super” to the title), but it’s actually a reskin of an Amiga game called Rat-Trap, in which a pink-haired fellow places blocks to guide rats into rat-catching machines. Audiogenic, the original developer, took Rat-Trap and gave it the Groening treatment, adding Simpsons-themed posters, replacing the nondescript, pink-haired youth with Krusty, and redesigning the rats to look a bit more like they’d fit in among the alleyways and drainpipes of Springfield.

This article was written for a printed Sega magazine but never used. Played on Mega Drive

Expeditions: A MudRunner Game

Man (and Truck) vs. Nature (and Ghosts)

Have you ever been driving at night through country lanes? Cowering behind the wheel from looming, pale branches and convinced of glowing eyes watching from hedgerows? Have you ever seen hunched figures in the distance only to realise it was actually a road sign, or been shocked by the sudden emergence of a wayward owl? SnowRunner has that feeling in spades. I mean, I haven’t noticed any owls, but there are definitely glowing eyes watching from the undergrowth.

If I was writing a script for a YouTube video about non-horror games that have spooky bits in them, SnowRunner would be on it. The aforementioned glowing eyes are the obvious example, but there’s other stuff too, like spooky singing coming from abandoned churches, abandoned villages that are apparently irradiated, and just a general feeling of isolated creepiness once the sun disappears behind that distant ridge of trees.

You want me to go that way, eh? Should I trust this fellow?

There are also trucks in it, big trucks. That’s what the MudRunner/SnowRunner/Spintires games are, by the way; slide into the driver’s seat of a massive truck with vast tyres and chunky metal bits, and smash it into nature. Take on a task, like delivering cargo or finding a broken down truck in the wilderness, and face puddles of sticky mud, fallen trees, swamps, muck, rocks, and dangerous slopes as you try to get from A to B. You will get stuck, but with careful use of your winch, gears, variable tyre pressures, and possibly other vehicles in your fleet, you’ll get satisfyingly unstuck and be able to move on to the next helping of nigh-impassable terrain.

Expeditions: A MudRunner Game is, at the time of writing, the most recent title in the franchise, and eschews the “odd-job guy in rural, isolated locations” feel in favour of an “adventurous type in the literal middle of nowhere” kind of vibe. Most of the massive hardware is gone, with a new focus on “scout” type vehicles, there are no towns, paved roads, or permanent residences around, the player can make use of a drone to scout out the landscape, and most of the missions will be quests of discovery, looking for dinosaur bones or evidence of prehistoric civilisations.

That’s where this game’s weirdness comes in. I’ve not gotten too far yet, but Expeditions: A MudRunner Game feels even more isolated than its predecessors, and many of the missions will send you searching for little statues of odd-looking fellows that seem to point out the direction of safe routes. This paints them in a benevolent light, but they still strike me as kind of creepy. Also, the ones in the desert levels have oars. What are they doing with oars in deserts, eh? Something to do with the large, abundant rivers nearby, you say? A likely story.

I was doing okay until you lot stuck your oar in.

I got lost in Expeditions: A MudRunner Game at first, and I don’t just mean I rolled my truck down a ravine and didn’t know the way back to base. The missions aren’t clear, the controls take some getting used to, and the menus aren’t the most intuitive. I was lost at the beginning of SnowRunner, too, but it wasn’t long before I got out of first gear. The same thing happened here, and I was soon charging up rocky hillsides with wild abandon, and only toppling back down again about half the time.

Expeditions: A MudRunner Game is for those players who preferred the exploration and scouting aspect of SnowRunner and MudRunner, but I must admit that I was mostly happiest when I was hauling cargo along a busted up road with gigantic, muddy swamps along the way, so Expeditions doesn’t scratch that same itch. It’s still kind of spooky though, and I’ve seen posts online about ghosts and bears and UFOs, so who knows what I’ve yet to uncover. I’ll let you know if I find anything in the wilds.

Played on PS5

The Simpsons: Tapped Out

A Long-time Mild Addiction Finally Taps Out

Yesterday, September 26^th 2024, the team behind The Simpsons: Tapped Out mobile game made the surprise announcement that they were pulling the plug on it after 12 years. Online purchases were turned off immediately, the game will be removed from app stores at the end of October, and it will no longer be accessible from January 24^th 2025.

I’ve been playing The Simpsons: Tapped Out on and off since 2013. I’m usually not very good with dates, but I remember this because my wife was pregnant when I first got into it. I don’t remember how I was made aware of it, but I do remember owning a Windows phone at the time, and so having to borrow my wife’s Samsung to play. The Simpsons: Tapped Out was one of the main reasons I transitioned to Android phones, so I’ve got that to thank it for at least.

During those early days, I was something of a local ambassador for the game, and got lots of people addicted to it. This included my wife, my sister, many of my work colleagues and various friends and other acquaintances. Many of these people became dangerously addicted, spending real money on the game, or getting involved in online groups who would hack it somehow, giving access to all of the premium characters and items.

I’ve never been much for “freemium” gaming, and like to pride myself on being very resistant to the dirty little ways they keep you playing, but The Simpsons: Tapped Out was the sole exception to this, and a big part of this is certainly how comfortable I find the Simpsons world. This is due to the show, but also to the love I have for The Simpsons: Hit & Run, probably my favourite game based on a TV or movie franchise ever. Yes, that does include GoldenEye 007.

I still never spent a penny of real money on it. Any premium items I owned were either purchased with the trickle of Donuts (the game’s premium currency) that are earned naturally by playing, or by using Google Play Store credit I’d earned by doing surveys (the only other thing I ever purchase with this credit nowadays is the odd AEW pay-per-view on FITE).

I enjoyed making my little version of Springfield, engaging in the events, and watching the little character animations. I played The Simpsons: Tapped Out during boring shifts, while staying overnight in hospitals, and in queues at Disney World. It wasn’t always good, sometimes the events were kind of lame, the dialogue could go on and on at times, and the buildings had a real scale problem. Certain buildings, like the Duff Arena or Springfield General Hospital, were far too small and dwarfed by other buildings that should have been a fraction of the size. Stuff like that really bugs me but overall the game was good, and felt very authentic to the Simpsons universe.

With the advent of this final announcement, the developers offered a final quest-line, threw a load of premium buildings at players, and handed over 1000+ Donuts for absolutely nothing, so that Springfield enthusiasts could make their final, perfect town before the whole thing gets erased. Alas, at the time of writing, a glitch appears to be causing those 1000+ Donuts to disappear (including mine), but it was a nice thought.

Through the dialogue of the Simpsons family members, the developers said goodbye and thank you to players, and a comment was made about them never being credited, despite it being in their contracts that they would be. This made me realise for possibly the first time that there are indeed real, talented, passionate people behind even freemium trash, and The Simpsons: Tapped Out was always very open about its addictive game loop and capitalistic ways. No one is forced to spend money on these things, after all.

I would like to spruce up my Springfield for a final, big photo (the game allows you to download an image of your town and save it to your device) but I don’t know if I’ll bother. I have a large corner of town with miscellaneous buildings that I didn’t immediately have a place for just scattered aimlessly, and sorting it all out would be a big job that I probably shouldn’t make time for. What’s the point, if the whole thing is tragically fleeting?

Well, that’s a philosophical quandary I don’t want to get into. Instead, I’ll just say farewell to The Simpsons: Tapped Out via an article on my little web site that no one will read. I’ll miss it, but it’ll also be nice to not have to worry about logging on four times a day during those events. I’ll just have to play The Simpsons: Hit & Run when I want my digital Springfield fix.