Back in 1985, giant robots were all the rage. Voltron! Robotech! Transformers! Mighty Orbots! As an eleven year old boy who fixated on pop culture with the intensity of a laser beam, I loved 'em all... and even tolerated Go-Bots, if nothing else was on.
You could find giant robots (and even better, giant robots that combine into even giant-er robots!) everywhere on television, but when it came to video games, especially just after the crash, there was just one place to get your fix...
Nichibutsu! Also known as Nihon Bussan,
and currently festering inside the stomach
of Hamster. Funny... in nature, it's typically
the other way around...
Nihon Bussan had two early arcade hits with Crazy Climber and Moon Cresta, but took a hard swerve into contemporary Japanese pop culture under the creative leadership of Shigeki Fujiwara. Nichibutsu games were often inspired by Japanese action shows, in the same way a high schooler's cheesy fan art was "inspired" by Sonic the Hedgehog and Pokemon.
"Space Sheriff Sharivan? No, our game is called Cosmo Police GALivan! UFO Robo Grendizer? No no, our game is UFO Robo Dangar! It's an easy mistake we hope players will make, so we can make money from those hot television shows without actually paying for their licenses."
Eleven year old me didn't give a damn about Nichibutsu's dangerous dance with Japanese copyright laws. He just wanted cool-looking ships that combine into bigger, more powerful ships, and Nichibutsu was the first company to consistently bring that experience into the arcade space. The only thing better than giant robots that combine is combining giant robots with video games.
Formation Armed F
Played: in MAME
Every classic shoot 'em up has a black sheep in its family. For Gradius, it's Xexex; for R-Type, it's R-Type Leo; and for Terra Cresta, it's Formation Armed F. Designed by artist and future Ghibli employee Takanori Tanaka, Formation Armed F makes visuals its highest priority. Admittedly, the artwork is better than what you'll find in the average Nichibutsu game... each stage is memorably themed, from the creepy, crawly Insect Stage littered with brightly colored exoskeletons, to the giant carcasses of the Bone Stage, with moldy lumps of flesh still clinging to the remains. It doesn't have the impact of R-Type's chrome-plated Gigerian nightmares, but the backgrounds are impressively detailed for 1988.
Does it play as well as a true Terra Cresta game, though? Not really. The vertical aspect ratio doesn't pair well with those pretty foreground objects, leaving the action feeling congested. And while there's a formation button (it is in the name after all... twice if you count the F!), there's no fleet of ships to re-arrange... instead, it shifts the position of your two escort ships, the "armers." Armers can block shots, and when extended, can actually poke through the foreground, letting you blast enemies behind it. Power-ups change the size and angle of your shots, but that's as deep and strategic as Formation Armed F gets.
Crazy Climber 2
Played: in MAME
Crazy Climber gets a 16-bit glow up in this Japanese sequel, one of many Crazy Climber sequels that never reached these shores. (There's at least two on the Playstation alone, not including Nichibutsu Arcade Classics.) Looking at this particular game with its subdued earth tones and parallax scrolling makes you think this is how Crazy Climber might have looked on the Sega Genesis.
Whether you're down with the new look or not, it's a massive improvement over the 1980 original. Nichibutsu has dedicated sprite artists now! GOOD artists! And hardware that can do that artwork justice! While it's a much prettier game than the original, the gameplay is roughly the same, with the player rhythmically shifting two joysticks to mimic climbing with two hands. Some of the stage gimmicks are the same, like the giant gorilla and escape helicopter, while others are new, like the racy billboard that kicks you off the building if you're careless. However, they all have a naughty urban edge that fits the New York setting and the attitude of the late 1980s.
In short, Crazy Climber 2 is a fitting if not exceptional follow-up to an arcade classic. It may not be the best version of Crazy Climber, but you could chalk that up to sheer volume.
Dangar UFO Robo
Played: In some woodsy convenience store, somewhere in Michigan
Dang is right! A year after Terra Cresta, Nichibutsu took the next logical step with its follow-up. Now, instead of five ships that turn into a phoenix, you're playing as three ships that transform into a robot! A robot that shoots its own fists at the bad guys! And the robot can turn into a flying saucer! Okay, that is ten thousand percent awesome. Where can I buy the toy?
As for the game, well, it's more Terra Cresta. There are differences, mostly in the trajectory of your shots... Dangar concentrates his firepower directly ahead of him, while Terra Cresta's Wing Galibur spreads its bullets across the screen in its most powerful forms. There are also gateways to pocket dimensions, leading to some creepy background scenery and a boss that makes Mandora from Terra Cresta look like a six-armed wuss.
The biggest problem with Dangar UFO Robo is that it's too much like Terra Cresta, without the novelty that game enjoyed in 1985. It's still good in all the ways Terra Cresta was good, but the experience is no longer fresh. It's Terra Cresta leftovers.
Moon Cresta
Played: in MAME
"You can get a lot of fun and thrill" from Moon Cresta, alleges Nichibutsu. Funny, I just noticed a lot of frustration and annoyance. This is your boilerplate fixed screen shooter, with several features that seem like they could add to the experience, but only add to the player's mounting aggravation. Take the lives system (please). You're given three separate ships, which can be stacked on top of each other for a boost of firepower. However, when a ship is destroyed, you're not getting it back... and the wider two ships have the combined annoyance of a larger hit box and gaps between the lasers you could drive a Space Winnebago through.
By the time you're down to your third, absolutely enormous ship, you'll be easy pickins for the Cold Eyes and "atomic piles" that effortlessly dodge your shots, then swerve into your space barge with their constant infernal looping. Yeah, something's an atomic pile here, and it ain't those missiles near the end of the game. Moon Cresta was followed up with Moon Quasar, as minimal an upgrade to the original as one could make without simply writing the new title over the marquee with a Sharpie. Your first ship fires faster (making the other two ships even more useless by comparison) and you can refuel with a mothership which looks like it has a goiter problem. This doesn't add a thing to the game, and is certainly not an improvement I would have suggested.
Moon Shuttle
Played: in MAME
Turn Moon Cresta sideways, then add some asteroid belts, and you've got Moon Shuttle, one of Nichibutsu's earliest (and if we can be honest here, most creatively barren) releases. The first half of the game has you blasting a field of lazily drifting meteors, squeezing through the gaps you've made with your laser, and the second half is spent blasting enemies with swirling patterns that should be familiar to anyone who's already played Moon Cresta.
There's nothing overly offensive about the gameplay of Moon Shuttle... it just feels like a "been there, done that" kind of shooter, at a time when players had access to the superlative Galaga, and Sega's own strong entry into the fixed shooter genre, Astro Blaster. Who needs Moon Shuttle when those games are just a few cabinets away? Hell, who needs Moon Cresta when you've got Galaga or Astro Blaster nearby?
Ninja Emaki
Played: on that Namco Museum cabinet
Ninja Emaki takes the top-down, Japanese-flavored run 'n gun action of Sega's Ninja Princess, and cranks it up about a hundred decibels. Your hero lays down intense crossbow fire from the moment the action begins... just hold down the fire button and you'll unleash a stream of bolts in whatever direction you're facing. However, pick up a scroll and you'll gain access to eight new weapons, from tornadoes to spinning shuriken to waves of water. These super weapons don't last long, so charge deep into enemy territory while you've got them... and grab that new scroll the moment it appears!
This is one of those games that takes you by surprise while you're poking through MAME. It's not just that Ninja Emaki is obscure... it's also pretty darned good. How did this miss the NES? How did this miss me the last time I was in an arcade? The gameplay's both intense and varied, with your ninja fighting on land, air, and sea, the graphics shine with iridescent colors, and the music captures that feudal Japanese feel while adding an appealing digital edge. Honestly, I don't care what Ninja Emaki is or where it came from... just give me more of it! (Change the DIP switch settings from five continues to ninety-nine, and you can have as much Ninja Emaki as you want. Look Nichibutsu, I'll tell YOU when I'm done playing this.)
Terra Cresta
Played at: The Malt Shop in Mount Pleasant
Xevious was a huge hit in Japan, and one of the first vertical shooters. Given its pedigree and the fact that it was designed by Namco at the peak of its game-making powers, you'd think I'd like the game more than I do. It's fine, but I just don't get all that excited about shattering flocks of dinner plates and dropping bombs on chrome-plated pyramids.
Now Terra Cresta, on the other hand, that speaks to me. At first blush, it's very similar to Xevious, but the differences become clear when your teeny little space ship docks with a slightly larger one, boosting its firepower. Wait, my ship is a Transformer?! And there are more ships to find? How many space ships can I tack onto this behemoth? Four? And I can split them apart with a touch of a button? And if I can get all four ships at once, they briefly transform into a flaming phoenix that destroys everything it touches? And you can blow up dinosaurs?
Look... it's 1985, I'm eleven, and I never miss an episode of Voltron, even the crappy ones with the vehicles. I was already onboard with Terra Cresta the moment you told me there were playable Transformers. Blowing up dinosaurs is just gravy. (I'm also cool with bubble-blowing dinosaurs, because I'm flexible like that.)
Terra Cresta is a fine game on a fundamental level... it doesn't do anything worse than Xevious, although the enemies who delight in reversing course and flying straight up your butthole get annoying in a hurry. (Hm, there's that Moon Cresta DNA.) However, it's the combining ships play mechanic that puts this game way over the top. Terra Cresta has a more rewarding and versatile weapon system than most other mid-80s shooters... a fully assembled Wing Galibur is death on two wings, in contrast to the piddling firepower in Tecmo's Star Force.
And! And! Terra Cresta lets you play as a Transformer. In case you've forgotten.
Rug Rats
Played at: The Castle Pizzaria in Lakeview
Not to be confused with the brats from the Nickelodeon cartoon, Rug Rats is a cartoon carpet caper starring you as a vacuum cleaner, and animated dust bunnies as the villains. It's a lot like Dig Dug, with the dirt replaced by a dirty kitchen floor. There are hapless hairballs that mindlessly wander back and forth, like Pookas, and more aggressive dirt devils that try to harpoon you with a spring-loaded spear. Like the fire-breathing Fygars, you'll want to take them by surprise, first stunning them with a blast of air before sweeping them up. If you're feeling saucy, use the carpets that serve as Rug Rats' rocks. Walk over them and they'll roll up, squishing any Baddons, Bilbolas, and Bigimbas they roll over.
Rug Rats isn't just Dig Dug with a housekeeping theme, though! Well, it's MOSTLY that, with day-glo colors and the most aggressively irritating opening theme this side of Make Trax. Would somebody take Hell's squeaky toy away from Fido, please? There are also three valuables hidden in the debris... suck 'em up and a crown appears. Grab that and all onscreen clutter monsters are frozen in place, vulnerable to your touch. (You may have already gathered that this game isn't a wellspring of fresh new ideas.)
There's two other things worth mentioning about Rug Rats. First, it was designed by Jordan, as was most of Nichibutsu's work prior to the company's totally justifiable obsession with giant robots. Jordan spent the latter half of the 1980s making muddy military shooters for Seta, including Caliber .50, Twin Eagle: Revenge Joe's Brother, and my guilty pleasure Meta Fox, the white trashiest shooter ever made in Japan. Listen to that boss music and tell me I'm wrong!
Second, this is one of the games I actually played in an arcade... specifically, the Castle Pizzaria in central Michigan. Back in the 1980s, the economy of small towns was healthy enough that you could build a pizza restaurant that resembles a British castle, line the walls with arcade games, and keep that business going for several years. These days, the building is now owned by Main Street Pizza, a provincial restaurant chain. Admittedly, the pizza is pretty good (it had better be when there's literally nothing else to do in the restaurant...), but I miss the Castle Pizzaria's joyously tacky hometown ambiance.
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