Our monthly feature on unfairly maligned games for @PIZZAPRANKS‘ Indiepocalypse returns, with a return to Camp Crystal Lake. That’s right, folks: We wound up talking about Friday the 13th on NES again! Of course, this new article represents entirely new talking points, and focuses mainly on the novelty of its progression systems across individual characters, as they’re divided across the map and control over them is swapped. It’s a concept I felt like I didn’t give nearly enough credit in our original article on the game, and I was happy to have the excuse to revisit one of my favorite 8-bit horror titles.
Personally, I’ve never been all too bothered by my film-to-game adaptations making changes to the script in order to make them play more like – you know – conventional video games. Call me a contrarian, but I don’t think casual games consumers in 1989 were particularly interested in a game that would be largely spent wandering around a completely empty campground, until suddenly and immediately being killed by Jason Voorhees without so much as a chance or option to fight back? Sure, maybe by 2017 they’d have become more amenable to it, but these were simpler times fit for more traditional games. As such (and considering that I’m writing for an audience largely composed of indie game developers), I’m not really gonna fixate on the intricacies of successfully adapting film to cartridge here. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.
“As You Take Damage You’ll Begin to Look Like Raw Hamburger.”
“Welcome to DOOM, a lightning-fast virtual reality adventure.” North American 3DO cover.
There’s no way to open an article on the subject of DOOM that doesn’t retread ground that’s already been well-worn over the course of the last twenty-eight years. Like, what am I supposed to say here that hasn’t already been said a million times by now? Could I possibly be the first one to break the news to you that DOOM‘s original 1993 DOS release represents one of the single-most important game launches of all time? Do you really need me to tell you that it’s an absolute masterpiece of first-person shooter design? Should I even make the effort to invoke the names of Romero, the two Carmacks, Hall, Taylor, Prince, Cloud and Peterson? In the face of this self-doubt, I suppose there’s really only one thing that I can say: For as much has been said and written about DOOM, its excellence and significance still has yet to be overstated. It really is just that good — that truly revolutionary a piece of interactive software. And if it takes another million more glowing homages to sufficiently honor it, I will be more than happy to submit my contribution to that running tally.
With all that being said, there is still a bit of dilemma left for me to face: With every aspect of DOOM’s history and impact so thoroughly documented and explored, what’s left for the likes of little ol’ me to bring to the table? Even as I narrow my scope on what is well-established as the game’s worst console conversion – its 1995 showing on the 3DO Interactive Multiplayer – I’ll still wind up just largely rehashing what is an already thoroughly chronicled niche in DOOM‘s history. The story of its production is the stuff of legend as it stands; between its publisher’s false promises, the shocking organizational missteps, and the one woman who had to clean up the whole mess in order to turn out a functional product in precious little time. But where the original release of DOOM on DOS set quickly-incorporated standards for an entire industry, some of the lessons that should’ve been learned from its 3DO incarnation still haven’t been taken to heart — not completely. And so, I find that it’s a tale worth covering at least one more time, in the hopes that someday this mixed-up business of ours eventually takes proper heed. And even if the moral still just winds up falling on deaf ears, and I’m effectively just re-telling this story for the umpteenth time? To that complaint, all I can say is: “Wait ‘til you hear me do it!”
In recounting the story of 3DO DOOM‘s development, we’ll first explore in brief the development of DOOM for Atari’s Jaguar hardware, which served as the spawning vat for most console conversions to follow. Art Data Interactive will enter unto the cruel, and bring with them boisterous boasts they had no means of backing up. The blood-soaked hero Rebecca Heineman will emerge, and we’ll do our best to pay homage to one of gaming’s bona fide legends. Then, I’ll be doing the unthinkable: Diving headfirst into Hell to play through all of 3DO DOOM for myself, and providing my own personal determination of its quality. After wading through a pile of dead roughly knee-deep, we’ll do our best to measure the game’s impact on both the market and on the greater franchise’s legacy, before attempting to answer one of my own questions — something I’ve honestly pondered on for a long while now: Would the worst possible version of DOOM still have managed to impress a first-time player in 1995? I reckon that’s a question more loaded than a shotgun with a hundred shells chambered, but it’s still one I need to discover the answer to for myself. So join me here on the Bad Game Hall of Fame – my own personal “House of Pain,” if you will – as we plumb the depths of this most unruly evil given CD-ROM form.
… Were those enough references to DOOM level names to establish to the hardcore Doomers out there that I know what I’m talking about? This article is gonna be “Barrels o’ Fun,” guys! Don’t get lost in the “Halls of the Damned” on your way here! “The Gantlet!” Alright, that’ll do.
For those interested in the further details of Rebecca Heineman’s career history, as well as some additional details on the development of 3DO DOOM: We conducted an interview with her prior to penning this article! It should hopefully help in filling in some of the events in her life prior to / surrounding DOOM‘s production, and was certainly vital in the process of researching and writing this review.
I’m pleased as punch to provide to y’all our interview with industry icon Rebecca Ann Heineman — a co-founder of Interplay, current head of Olde Sküül Games, and a woman with a hand in countless hundreds of games over the course of a nearly forty year career. Needless to say, we specifically chose to bother her with questions regarding one of her least-flattering / most infamous projects: The 3DO’s crippled conversion of DOOM, published by Art Data Interactive in 1995. Of course, we inquired about a range of other subjects and points in time from her career as well, so as not to make her hate us completely. Joking aside, it turned out to be an awesome and insightful interview, and her willingness to make herself so accessible / open with details of her life and career was hugely appreciated.
In a first for us, this interview was conducted over a call on Discord, and summarily required editing on my part to include some visual accompaniments / to fill in for some technical errors on my end. It’s also a format that requires transcribing to text on my end, for the benefit of those who can’t access or parse the original audio for themselves. But with this more direct line of communication; we did gain the abilities to further explain some of our odder questions, to follow up more immediately to some of Becky’s answers, and to even crack each other up a good handful of times over the course of the hour. I’m not sure as of yet that this’ll be the preferred format moving forward for future interviews, but I’ve certainly taken note of some of the benefits (as well as the drawbacks, in the form of how much more work it entails on my end). In any case, I do hope that it makes for informative and entertaining viewing, and that our conversation helps to shed some light on the details of Rebecca’s historic career and works.
A word of warning: There will be accounts of some distressing experiences in this interview. Rebecca’s story of recognizing her gender identity from a young age, being made to run away from home, and surviving / escaping from poverty may hit close to home for some, and be seen as potentially triggering. Mrs. Heineman shares these stories in the hopes of providing a personal context, as well as potentially inspiring and encouraging folk in similar situations to what she once endured. Her work on the board of directors for GLAAD in the past several years should additionally speak to her advocating for and supporting fellow transgender individuals, and serve to highlight the ability of queer folk to persevere through adversity in order to lift each other up and effect change — within our industry and beyond. Becky is a true unsung hero of the game development business, and it’s our personal hope that her life story serves as a shining example of where talent and tenacity can take you, even in the face of detractors and tough obstacles along the way.
I would also use this space to make an additional ask: That when referring back to the histories and life events of trans folk before they were able to present with their chosen names and pronouns, that their current names and pronouns should still be used retroactively, in order to respect and honor their preferred identities. It’s a subject which we discuss during the course of the interview, and which Becky is uniquely entitled to weigh in on; given her deadname being a matter of credited record, her attempts to distance herself from it as early as the 1980s, and the penchant of some her detractors to insist on addressing her by these out-of-date identifiers — as an attempt to degrade and invalidate her. But Becky does not suffer fools, and raises some compelling arguments against these bad faith conventions.
A full text transcript of this interview will eventually be provided here. It’s simply a matter of my needing to put in the work of typing it all out myself. Please to bear with me, folks.
Our monthly feature on historically panned games for @PIZZAPRANKS‘ Indiepocalypse returns, with an article on the prehistoric Trespasser: The Lost World – Jurassic Park. We take the opportunity to explore its troubled development, technically-challenged release, and what ultimately proved to be a lasting positive impact on the games industry at large. It’s a personal favorite game of mine – warts and all – and one which we’ll surely find the time to revisit for this site in the future! But for now, y’all have an early opportunity to see some of my takes on the much-maligned first-person adventure, and to discover which modern-day games and developers owe it a debt of gratitude:
That’s the main lesson I reckon I like to take away from Trespasser‘s legacy: It’s the proof that a commercially failed, overly-ambitious game can still make an impact on the larger industry, and inspire developers in the years to follow. As I use this Bad Game Corner to highlight novel ideas in notorious releases, this is ultimately the premise which I’m trying to impart and get across myself. Whether your personal takeaways are to do what these games attempted to do “but better,” or to center your high concept software around their most singularly obtuse and ill-advised ideas on offer, you’ll be equally as valid. The beauty of games can often be in their iterative nature, and the ability of future developers to learn from history — to full-heartedly embrace concepts that debut as half-baked, and spin gold of them with the benefits of experience and time. Or, some may just choose to embrace chaos instead, and take roundly rejected ideas to their logical extremes, in order to see who laughs and who actually puts the time into fully understanding their eccentricity. Trespasser is clearly a game which has been able to inspire those within both schools of thought, and should be recognized as such for its continued contributions to the games industry — unintentional as some may well have been.
“Let’s get into the continental spirit with ‘Saiyūki!'” Enlightened art by @EmilyHammersley.
We’ve covered some notable kusogē on the Bad Game Hall of Fame in the past, as “bad games” websites worth their salt all inevitably do. Logically, our journey started at the very beginning, with the very first game to be associated with the mocking portmanteau. Thus far, we’ve tackled one entry in the unofficial “Treasure Hunters Trinity,” with two more Famicom fossils still left to unearth. Hell, one might argue we’ve already seen the worst of the worst ’round these parts, as we’ve even gone and written about the oft-proclaimed, almighty “Emperor of Kusogē” itself. But today brings us another contender to that dubious throne — a game in which you play as no less than a veritable King. I suppose we should bow in the presence of bad game royalty, and bask in the discomforting glow of its dull, flickering light. And so we embark on another cursed journey: A trek which spans the Eastern Hemisphere, providing little more than the vague directive to head westward.
Hell, one might even dare to call this troublesome travelogue a “Journey to the West!”
For those not clued into the gag, here: Journey to the West (西遊記 in its native Chinese) is the title of perhaps one of the most popular and influential novels ever written, with its original publication [by an anonymous author] dating back to 16th century China. Y’all ever watch the original Dragon Ball? The whole franchise started as an homage to this story. Ever played Enslaved: Odyssey to the West? Yeah, reckon that subtitle should make a little more sense to you now. But of course, Enslaved wasn’t the first video game to base itself on the folkloric exploits of the so-called “Monkey King” Sun Wukong: I believe that honor is owed to a 1984 Capcom arcade title, SonSon? But alas, that’s still not the title we’re here today to discuss, either.** Jump ahead two years in time to 1986, and to the debut software offering of one VAP Inc. — an already-established Japanese entertainment company, looking to dip their toes into this new-fangled video game fad. The end result of their efforts and investment came to Nintendo’s Family Computer in the form of Ganso Saiyūki: Super Monkey Daibōken (元祖西遊記スーパーモンキー大冒険) — roughly translated as ‘Original Journey to the West: Super Monkey Adventure.’ And boy howdy, what an adventure consumers had in store for them.
Despite its notoriety as a formative Famicom kusogē, documentation for the development of Ganso Saiyūki has remained something of a mystery for the better part of the last 35 years. Appearances and references to it within Japan’s popular culture evidently did little in the way of compelling its original creators to open up on the subject of its production — a likely low point in their professional histories, and perhaps even a personal sore spot for some. But come 2018, one of the game’s three developers stepped up to confess their role in it, and kindly helped to solve many of the mysteries behind the enigmatic cartridge. Needless to say, this article will come equipped with all the pertinent details of the game’s construction, and brief histories on the companies and major players involved. Naturally, we’ll also be undertaking the virtual expedition for ourselves, and recording our meditations on all the highs and lows. At journey’s end, we’ll try and get a handle on how the game was received in its time, its lasting legacy, and the surprising places some of the parties involved would later wind up in their careers. So come now, ye seekers of enlightenment: Vulture Peak awaits!
** For what it’s worth: I played SonSon for the first time in my life in the process of writing this article. And as it turns out, it’s a ton of fun! Super intuitive arcade action complete with uncomplicated co-op play. Gets a high recommendation from me.
The Bad Game Hall of Fame is dedicated to giving bad games the due process they deserve. Through examining their history, reviewing their contents, and measuring their impacts on the industry, we hope to bring about a better understanding of these oft-dismissed releases.
Along the way, we'd like to give readers a better understanding of how the games industry operates, and the pressure put on game developers to deliver these products in short order.
