Monday, June 29, 2026

The Tower of Retro-Babble: Toaplan

(pretty awesome) image from Gematsu
 

On we go to the works of Toaplan! Like Emerson Lake and Palmer, Toaplan was a video game “supergroup” comprised of the best designers from Crux and Orca. Okay, “best” might not be the right word, since neither Crux nor Orca made any arcade classics. (In fact, Orca’s Springer is one of the more miserable platformers from the early 1980s, an unsteady and over-encumbered design made worse by finicky jumping and collision detection. But, uh, that’s getting a little out of left field.)

Apart, Crux and Orca were not especially impressive. Together, the newly christened Toaplan was one of the most fondly remembered game designers of the late 8-bit and 16-bit eras of gaming. After a few stumbles out of the starting gate (Performan, designed for Data East, and Tiger Heli, which I’ll express my contempt for in the upcoming review), Toaplan earned a reputation for outstanding shoot ‘em ups, rivaled only by Konami and Compile. Fire Shark! Twin Cobra! Truxton and its even more awesome sequel! Occasionally, Toaplan would stray from that path with games in other genres- their frosty take on Bubble Bobble, Snow Bros., is dangerously close to a masterpiece- but generally speaking, Toaplan was the place to go for all your “blowing up aliens and Japanese fighter pilots” needs.

Toaplan’s games have a grungy feel, with urgent music pushed out of obnoxious digital instruments and a heavy use of gradient shading to boost detail and dimension. This meant that their segue to the Sega Genesis in its later years was almost flawless. Genesis ports like Snow Bros and Fire Shark mimic their arcade counterparts remarkably well, and Toaplan even upped the ante with a remake of ALCON (Slap Fight MD) with improved graphics, deeper gameplay, and a soundtrack by master digital musician Yuzo Koshiro. You’ve got the Sega Genesis outpacing arcade games now! You Go-A, To-a!

Shortly after Snow Bros., Toaplan went bankrupt, and most of its talent migrated to Cave, another respected developer of shooters. (And Power Instinct, but you don’t have to play that.) The skin of Toaplan is currently being worn by the Embracer Group, as subsidiary Tatsujin. By the way, the next time the two games go on sale, I’d recommend snapping up Toaplan Arcade Collections I & II. It’s a solid pair of collections with smart QoL features (the information on either side of the screen comes in handy for games with more cryptic power-ups) and just a tiny bit of tweaking to get everything looking just right.

PERFORMAN
Played: In MAME

This is technically Toaplan’s first game, done under contract for Data East. It’s another one of those foolhardy attempts to bring Dig Dug topside for an overhead view adventure, and like Dig Dug II: Trouble in Paradise and Rug Rats, it doesn’t really work.

You are Performan. (Imagine Ultraman if he came from Temu and you’ve got the right idea.) He’s armed with a mohawk, which he can chuck at the steadily approaching robot enemies to destroy them. Alternately, you can throw it at an explosive battery, taking several androids out with one shot and scoring bonus points.

Bonus coins spill out from the top of
the screen occasionally, awarding you
an extra life if you can catch them all.
It's a bit like the grapes with letters
on them in Snow Bros, or the EXTRA
bonus in games from Universal.

When you start to feel the pinch from approaching enemies, you can dive into the ground and dig around until you find a safe place to emerge… but the enemies can dig too, so it’s not much of a defense. On the plus side, there’s a ghost that haunts the underside of the playfield… catch him and you become temporarily invincible, and the enemies temporarily become your bitch.

Performan isn’t a bad first effort from the company, but hardly the pre-crash arcade classic Toaplan was hoping it would be. The android pursuers are annoyingly fast and persistent, the gameplay’s not particularly deep, and the dual-layered playfield adds more annoyance than nuance to the experience. Nobody demanded a return Performan-ce from this one.

TIGER HELI
Played: In a tiny hometown arcade, and also the NES

I’ll just put it on the table right now… this game sucks. It was the absolute last resort for bored gamers in my town’s short-lived arcade. When the line for the Choplifter machine went out the door (fair play, it was pretty awesome!) and the pinball machines weren’t doing it for you, your only option was… Tiger Heli. Miserable, life-draining Tiger Heli. The Bremelo of the ball, the chain-smoking, three hundred pound date that you had to take to the prom, because you just weren’t getting anybody else. (Don’t ask where that metaphor came from.)
Uh... the water patterns look nice!
Look, I'm trying to find something
nice to say about this game, and
it's not giving me much to work with.

You don’t play Tiger Heli. You try to play Tiger Heli, and it actively fights you at every step. The enemies’ shots are much too fast to realistically avoid, hidden bonuses require a million shots to reveal, and the wimpy machine gun you’re given by default jams if you dare to use turbo fire. I’m sorry, I was attempting to save my fingers some grief and find some enjoyment in the game, but I forgot that enjoying yourself is literally punishable by death in Tiger Heli. Did I actually run out of bullets? You do know that this is a video game, and I can have as many as I want, right? There’s not a shortage of pixel clusters that look like bullets.

There are power-ups in Tiger Heli. This is a 1985 game, so don’t expect to be blown away by them. In fact, don’t expect to blow anything away with the Mini Helis, revealed by collecting red and white crosses on the playfield. (Red Cross? I have a medical emergency… a severe fun deficiency. I blame Tiger Heli.) You’ll get them, they’ll stick around for a minute shooting tiny bullets either forward or sideways, they blow up from incoming fire, and you’re right back to your original weaksauce shot. Yaaaay.

The power-up mechanics feel a lot like Irem’s Image Fight or Jordan’s Thundercade, and neither game is one I’d regard as a high point in the genre. (No matter what the Japanese think. Sorry not sorry, but Image Fight blows!) This makes Tiger Heli the lead vampire in a family of shooters that suck. Not blood, the other thing. You get the idea.

Tiger Heli isn’t all bad. Mostly, but not entirely. The graphics have a palatable geometric look… they’re simple by Toaplan standards, but effective, particularly the diamonds that peek out of the ground and those vast expanses of ocean with their swirling white peaks. Also, when the Micronics port for the NES came out, nobody could honestly say that it sucked any more than the arcade game. They both suck; the NES port just sucks in an NES kind of way.

ALCON (aka SLAP FIGHT)
Played at: The Malt Shop in Mount Pleasant, where else?

Performan wasn’t so hot and the despicable Tiger Heli was ice cold, but ALCON (known by the wimpy-sounding title Slap Fight in other territories) gave players a first taste of the Toaplan that would eventually become the master of its craft. It’s not a great game, but it’s getting there.

ALCON is a vertical shooter, looking like a hybrid of Namco’s Xevious and Toaplan’s own Tiger Heli. It’s set in a distant science-fiction future, but the backgrounds are a bit more “lived in” than the simple geometric shapes of Xevious. Square metallic structures are joined by cottages in long abandoned streets and parched deserts. Playfield objects are touched with the careful detail and subtle shading that would become Toaplan’s trademark… it’s nowhere near the heights of Truxton II or OutZone, but again, it’s getting there.

Where ALCON falters is its use of a Gradius-like power up system. (Gradi-esque?) Glistening stars recovered from random enemies light segments of a gauge on the bottom of the screen. When the power-up you want is lit, press a button and you’ll earn it, at the cost of your collected stars. One of the power-ups, Side, increases your firepower with sidecars, but also increases the horizontal size of your ship. Good luck weaving that battle barge through the soup of bullets in the later stages! Other power-ups don’t give you an inconvenient badonkadonk, but seem less useful than the standard shot. Also, the “sticky” turbo fire from Tiger Heli returns, and is every bit as obnoxious.

The best way to play this game is on the Mega Drive. Slap Fight MD offers both the original game (in Toaplan’s usual near arcade perfect form) and an enhanced version with improved graphics, the ability to detonate sidecars in times of distress, making them less of a liability, and an appropriately spacey Yuzo Koshiro soundtrack. It has the unfortunate side effect of making the game seem even more like an overhead Gradius, but it’s Yuzo Koshiro at the keyboard, so I’m not complaining.

TWIN COBRA

Played at: The Malt Shop in Mount Pleasant, as always

Twin Cobra is arguably Toaplan’s first major success, and a big step forward in their ascension to shooter royalty. The graphics are a big step up from ALCON and Tiger Heli, with more of the lurid detail that players would come to expect from Toaplan. Your helicopter is twice the size and with double the detail of the one in Tiger Heli. The waves of tanks, choppers, and gun turrets that serve as your enemies are dressed in military green, metallic silver, and weather-worn bronze. Twin Cobra’s got that appealingly gritty and realistic GI Joe aesthetic that was extremely popular in the late 1980s. It looked great then, it still looks nice now, and it set the trajectory for Toaplan’s artists in their later games.

Then there’s the sound, which is… certainly sound! It’s got the same grating, twangy instrumentation as many games on the Sega Genesis, which meant that Toaplan made a smooth transition to that format, but also makes you kind of glad that you couldn’t actually hear it in arcades. It’s accompanied by serviceable if flat gunfire and explosions, which again benefit from the cacaphony of the arcade space. You could just barely hear them back in the day… and “just barely” is loud enough for this grade of sound effects.
Power-ups like this S emblem flit
about the screen in random directions,
annoying the player. This was evidently
inspired by digging the last greasy
morsel out of a bowl of donburi, but
maybe the folks at Toaplan should
have thought twice about bringing
that aggravation to video games. 


Power ups have improved from ALCON and Tiger Heli, but are still fairly basic, with different colors offering different trajectories for your shot. Red is your standard vulcan cannon that fires straight forward, green is an unremarkable laser beam that also fires forward, blue is a spread shot (you want this one), and yellow fires in every cardinal direction, which is useless. You’ll have to grab several S emblems to make your weapons any more than functional, and the S emblems don’t want to be grabbed, dancing just out of your reach. It’s a weirdly user-hostile design, making an already tough game tougher in all the wrong ways. If you’re playing this in the Toaplan collection, use the dip switches and assists to balance things out, making the difficulty more manageable for those of us who experienced Twin Cobra when it first hit arcades. We’ve, heh, aged some since. (Try not to grimace when your system tells you for the 46th time that you’re not eligible for the leaderboards.)

Oh, I forgot to mention why this is called TWIN Cobra! Like Double Dragon, this game offers two player simultaneous gameplay, adding to the excitement while boosting your onscreen firepower. Two player action was becoming a standard feature in arcade games in 1987, and it’s especially welcome here. It’s not quite perfect, but Twin Cobra is the first truly excellent game from Toaplan… and things would only get better from here.

By the way, there were two home versions in America… a surprisingly decent NES conversion by Micronics (BWAA?!), and a less satisfactory port on the Sega Genesis. Toaplan usually nails arcade conversions on this system, but they farmed this one out to GRC, and the results speak for themselves. Mostly with gape-jawed “duhs.”

SKY SHARK
Played: On the NES. Unfortunately.
Awesome! Can I have this game?
Not the one in the box... THIS GAME.
(image from Giant Bomb, which the game in the box is)


Sky Shark had a memorable advertisement in video game magazines of the time… it showed a fighter pilot in World War II, his teeth crushed together in fierce determination and his wild eyes bulging from the tense life or death situation. Awesome! Can I get this for a home system?

Sure. You probably wouldn’t want to, though. Sky Shark on the NES was developed by Software Creations, and while it’s far from their worst NES game (that honor would go to Target: Renegade, which defiled Technos’ corpse before the company was even dead), it still leaves something to be desired. Like gameplay that lets you learn the ropes and enjoy it for a few minutes before spanking you bloody. What gives, Software Creations? (Oh, they made Silver Surfer too. That explains everything…)

Good luck. Crank up all the assists
in the options of the Toaplan collection
if you want to get anywhere in this one.
(Or, yanno, just play 1943.)


Thing is, it’s not Software Creations’ fault that Sky Shark sucks. (For once.) That’s on Toaplan, because even in arcades, Sky Shark is a dismal, grinchy experience, and the company’s worst shooter since Tiger Heli. In contrast to Capcom’s 1943, which admittedly drank quarters like Kool-Aid but was an extremely player-friendly game, Sky Shark steps on your throat from go and does little to justify its cruelty with clever gameplay hooks or memorable graphics. The weapons are paltry (actually a significant step BACK from Twin Cobra!), the player’s ship dies in a single hit, and you will be dragged back to a checkpoint every time, with all of your power ups stripped away. It’s the Bizarro World version of 1943… while Capcom’s game invited players to keep going, Sky Shark actively repels them.

Admittedly, the graphics aren’t too bad. Enemy planes don’t merely explode, but catch on fire and drop like a bird with a broken wing first. Tanks leave smoking craters in their wake, and the stages have that usual Toaplan level of detail, with wooden docks perched over swamps and villages set behind dense jungle foliage. Hard to appreciate all that when the game insists on punching you in the gonads every other screen, though. You could give yourself hit points in the Toaplan collection (nice feature, by the way), but instead of pretending that this pretender is 1943, why not… just play 1943? I mean, it’s right there.

PYROS

Played: In some arcade, somewhere. Lansing Mall?

Sometimes, Toaplan would wander outside of its comfort zone with games that aren’t strictly shooters. Pyros (also called Wardner, which was the name it received on the Sega Genesis) is Toaplan’s take on the side-scrolling platformer, and just like with its shoot ‘em ups, it gives you maybe a screen’s worth of gameplay before it takes off the kid gloves and replaces them with brass knuckles.

Chris Hansen, we've got a live one over here!

As the plump Pyros, it’s your mission to rescue your girlfriend from the sinister Wardner and his goons. (Fantasia, my ass! This is the worst case of false advertising since “Make America Great Again!”) You can defend yourself with short-range fireballs, but Pyros folds in one hit if you can’t find a cape. A needle and thread lets you repair the cape once if contact with an enemy tears it, effectively giving you three hit points. Power ups also boost the length and strength of your fireballs, but be aware that Pyros is a chubby kid still in Wizarding 101, not Gandolf. Sheer firepower won’t get you through these tricky stages; only precise jumps and careful evasion of oncoming threats will.

The graphics are painted in muted greens and browns, with Pyros starting his adventure in a dense forest thicket and eventually infiltrating Wardner’s headquarters, a musty old dungeon with mold lining the walls and a jagged spinning blade at the end of every long corridor. Nothing you see here will blow your mind, but it fits the medieval fantasy theme, making Pyros feel like the Hobbit game that nobody in the arcade industry bothered to release. The sound is of typical Toaplan quality (which is to say, unimpressive) and the brutal difficulty will crush all but the best players. Know that this trip to the Shire takes an extended detour through the House of Pain.
Enemy designs are unimpressive and the level
design borders on kaizo, but Pyros has its
moments. It's really fun when you're in the
zone, but those lucky streaks don't last long!

Pyros appeared on the Famicom Disk System in Japan, and also on the Genesis as Wardner. The latter game is remarkably close to the arcade original, but you already came to expect this from Toaplan after Fire Shark and Truxton. Toaplan’s arcade hardware and Sega’s 16-bit console hardware were so similar that Toaplan knew how to develop Genesis games before the system was even released! Talk about a head start!

FIRE SHARK
Played: On the Genesis. Fortunately!

Fire Shark has special significance to me as a Sega Genesis fan, because it was the first game I owned for the system that 1) Wasn’t Altered Beast, 2) Was objectively good (ie not DJ Boy), and 3) Scratched an itch for 1943 that had been left unsatisfied since I sold my Nintendo Entertainment System the year before.

Fire Shark isn’t really 1943, but rather Toaplan’s own take on the World War II shooter. There are some key differences, like how the formations of planes holding power-ups have been replaced with large, bullet spongey zeppelins, and how you have to collect three power-ups to boost your weapons. Okay, that design choice I could have done without (and of course, power ups dance around your ship, just begging for you to get clipped by a bullet while trying to grab them), but at least the three weapons in Fire Shark are pretty impressive… far more so than the wimpy bullet streams in Sky Shark. The standard issue wide shot spreads out with power ups, the beam shot pierces enemies and gets thicker when powered up, and the fire beam rakes a screen-long column of flame across your foes. It’s great even in its standard form… once it’s been powered up, the fire beam is unstoppable.

There was an arcade version of Fire Shark, but it’s not massively different from the Genesis version, right down to the twangy soundtrack. The graphics are sharper and a little less cramped, but really, there’s still plenty of detail to spare in the Genesis game, like the tiny Allied soldiers that meet you at the landing pad after every stage. The only meaningful difference between the two games is that in the arcade version, you immediately bounce back from a death as long as you have lives remaining. In the Genesis game, one hit lights your plane’s wings on fire, leaving the player to struggle for a couple of seconds before crashing to Earth. No, you can’t survive it. No, you can’t keep your progress through enemy territory… you’ll be sent back to a checkpoint. It’s a subtle change to the gameplay that’s not so subtle in practice. Credit feeding isn’t going to get you as far in the Genesis version, especially when you’re limited to a handful of them. And forget inviting a second player to join you... on the Genesis, that just ain't happening. Sigh... it's like MERCS all over again...

TRUXTON
Played: On Genesis

Truxton (aka Tatsujin) was one of the standouts in the early Genesis library, a vertical shooter with aspirations of arcade perfection. It comes close, you know. The famous skull bomb doesn’t look as cool and it’s not as difficult, but next to what was available on the NES, Truxton may as well be a carbon copy of the original. It’s close enough to the real thing that pointing out any differences would have been nitpicking, especially in the early 1990s. Trust me... after I bought my Genesis in 1991, I complained that the Genesis version of Altered Beast was missing details from the arcade game, and my brother rolled his eyes so hard they kept spinning for hours.
What do you suppose the outer hull of
those ships feels like when you touch it?
Would they even be safe to touch? Maybe
you'd pull back your hand and it'd be
covered with caustic slime, like on Alien.

Truxton is the science-fiction counterpart to Fire Shark. The feel is similar, the aggravating “three power-ups to power up” system remains intact (and this time, it’s FIVE power-ups. Et tu, Toaplan?), and the smart bombs work in the same way. What’s different is the visual motif. You’re not fighting tanks and planes on a mid 20th century battlefield, but bugs and lumpy alien organisms in the void of space. The character designs aren’t eye-catchingly sleek like they would be in a similar Capcom or Konami game, but they’re at least functional… just not very memorable. The sound serves up that slightly grating Toaplan twang whether you’re playing it in arcades or on the Genesis, and again, it does the job.
Truxton II. Super size me, baby!


The game’s earned some internet fame thanks to Classic Game Room host Mark Cussler’s low-key obsession with it. However, it’s the sequel that deserves all the praise. The graphics in Truxton II have been pushed to a Sega Saturn level of detail, the music is catchier, and the weapons that were already pretty cool in Truxton are far more devastating and impressive in Truxton II. It doesn’t take a century to power them up either! The game still drags you to a checkpoint without your power-ups if you die, but hey, nobody’s perfect.

HELLFIRE
Played: On the Genesis

"Dersh!"

Er, not that hellfire. THIS Hellfire is a side-scrolling shooter that feels like the long-lost descendant of SNK’s Vanguard. You don’t have instant control over where you fire, but pressing a button switches your aim from forward to backward to vertical to diagonal and back. Enemies comes from all angles, and some gun turrets are tucked away behind barriers, so you’ll have to frequently switch the direction of your gunfire to adapt to the ever changing, and ever hostile, environment. 

Guns are set behind barriers, all but necessitating
the use of the aim switch button. They won't
stop firing until either you or they die, so make
sure it's them.


It’s not a bad hook. Frankly, Hellfire would have been even better if it had been a twin stick shooter, but the kludgy aim switching works well enough. It’s the only way it COULD have worked on the Sega Genesis… the console port of the game was released before six button controllers, which meant that you were stuck with just three… one to fire your weapon, the second to switch your aim, and the third for a blast of flame that roasts anything in its path. This literal hellfire helps justify the game’s title and adds a strategic option to the Genesis game that wasn’t available in other versions.

The graphics in Hellfire are detailed, but rendered in muted hues, and a little muddled conceptually. So I was in space a stage ago, but now I’m in a Pharaoh’s tomb? It’s like I’ve flown into an Old Spice commercial from the 2000s. There are some nice special effects, like the ring of cannons on your ship that slowly rotates around it, and the color cycling for power-ups. The music also deserves praise. They’re the usual twangy Toaplan tunes, but they’re driving, intense ones… probably some of the company’s best work.

Hellfire isn’t on the level of a classic like R-Type or Gradius, but it’s up to Toaplan’s usual high standards, and for Genesis owners starved for content in the system’s unsure early days, that’s more than good enough. It’s also a tough game, nearly on par with that other Genesis ballbreaker Gaiares. Put on your big boy pants for this one, and a pair of asbestos pants over those just to be sure.

OUTZONE
Played: At the truck stop in Tekonsha MI

“Advance or die” is the general theme of this sharply rendered science-fiction shooter, seen from an overhead view. At first blush, it looks like Ikari Warriors or Heavy Barrel on steroids, but there are two key differences. The first is that there’s no “loop lever” (that hand-wrecking crank on the top of the joystick), so the player must collect C panels to alternate between free and fixed fire. Like Gunstar Heroes, free fire makes you more mobile, but fixed fire has the advantage of stability… you always know where your bullets are going to go, so you can concentrate on dodging rather than aiming.

Choosing two players slides the second
one out from behind the first, in an
animation that's simple in theory, but
incredibly awesome-looking in practice. 


The second twist is that your character runs on battery power, which quickly depletes as you play. You’ll have to keep moving, and keep collecting energy refills, if you want to stay alive. Finding a balance between efficient forward progress and not stumbling into a bullet or off a platform is what makes Outzone distinct from the dozens of other games in this genre. If you thrive in stressful situations, here’s your game. If you like to take your time and explore every nook and cranny of the environment, Outzone is NOT your game, and you’ll be punished for trying to play it that way.

Bulky military transports crush the
earth with their mass and leave
massive craters with chunks of metal
behind after you destroy them.
When it comes to arcade game design,
little details mean a lot, and Outzone
has a whole lot of them. 
 

The graphics are excellent, as you’d expect from Toaplan this late in its lifespan. Colors pop, enemy vehicles are huge, and the android soldiers eager to stop you are smoothly animated from all angles. The sound… is also what you’d expect from Toaplan, for whatever that’s worth. Expect lots of twangy sound effects and instrumentation that make you think you’re playing a Genesis game. No way a Sega Genesis could do this game justice in any other way, though. Even Grind Stormer was pushing it.

Outzone was followed up by FixEight, which featured eight playable characters, each with their own signature weapon. The graphics have been fluffed up a bit, with lots of color cycling effects, and there have been a few quality of life improvements. You’re no longer forced to hustle through each stage, and dying won’t send you back to a checkpoint. Beyond that, it’s largely the same experience, with more variety, brighter colors, and a beefy sound chip that’s better equipped to handle the rumbling explosions of an arcade game.

SNOW BROS
Played: In a convenience store not far from Chicago

Toaplan steps outside its comfort zone one more time with Snow Bros. If you wanted to be reductive about it, Snow Bros is a Bubble Bobble clone, with players clearing a maze-like screen of enemies. If you wanted to be accurate about it, Snow Bros is the best damn Bubble Bobble game ever made that’s not actually part of the Bubble Bobble series. As the titular (hee hee) snow brothers Nick and Tom, you’ll pack your Muppet-like foes in snowballs, then kick them, sending them madly careening around the screen. Pack TWO enemies in snow and kick one into another, and they bounce around the playfield in opposite directions, wiping out any monster unlucky enough to be in their paths and revealing valuable hidden prizes. It’s exciting, it’s addictive, and like any good Bubble Bobble clone, the arcade and Genesis versions can be played with a friend for maximum enjoyment.

The chaos of rolling snowballs doubles with a
second player. Snow Bros is just fun, the way
a good Bubble Bobble game should be.


Did I say “Genesis version?” Well, it’s technically a Mega Drive version, since we didn’t get the game in this country, but yes. As with most Toaplan games, Snow Bros makes an almost flawless transition to Sega’s most popular game system… the characters are a little smaller this time, but the backgrounds are brimming with chaotic color, and the gameplay loses nothing in the conversion to a home console.

Snow Bros was one of Toaplan’s last games, and there’s a refreshing sense of anarchic self-indulgence in its design. Goofy paintings of yokai leer at you from the walls, and the prizes are plates of sushi, rather than the more universally recognized fruit in Bubble Bobble. Some of those eccentricities were weeded out of the NES version of Snow Bros, and while it’s an acceptable downport, the arcade original and the Genesis port is the sweet spot for this one. If you’re going to enjoy this game, why not enjoy all of it?

KNUCKLE BASH
Played: In a sleazy pool hall in Mount Pleasant 

Little correction here... THIS was one of the very last games Toaplan released before its bankruptcy. And it's so out there, in so many ways. Not only is it well outside of Toaplan's field of expertise (and it shows in the slightly janky movement), but it's a Final Fight game that thinks it's a wrestling game. The many bosses in Knuckle Bash are typically expies of all your favorites from WWF's golden age. Hey, there's a guy that looks like Ravishing Rick Rude, and another one who kind of resembles Hillbilly Jim, and yet another one whose sprite is clearly supposed to the Iron Shiek, but looks more like a Bushwhacker in his digitized close-up shot. 

One might generously call this a loving tribute to professional wrestling. Others might call it playing a game of chicken with Vince McMahon's lawyers. Either way, you're getting a pretty good, if pretty dumb, two player experience out of Knuckle Bash. The physics feel a little clumsy, with the wrestlers awkwardly hovering in mid-air during jump kicks, and clenches with the enemies can be tough to line up. In Final Fight, grabbing an enemy just worked, but you can't stun them with punches and close in for the kill here... the stun time isn't long enough to give you that opening. 

Let's see the Honky Tonk Man pull this move off!
 

On the other hand, the loud colors and accessible, often outrageous gameplay add to the personality of a game that does what it does better than SNK's Three Count Bout. Knuckle Bash dares to be stupid, dares to be self-indulgent, and dares to be bi-curious, and it's all the better for it. It's far from the best early 1990s beat 'em up... where handling is concerned, Knuckle Bash doesn't hold a candle to Capcom's belt-scrollers or Konami's Violent Storm. But where else are you gonna turn orange gorillas into electric guitars, or bodyslam evil bellboys into luxury cars? In its celebration of professional wrestling, Knuckle Bash also becomes a celebration of the wonderfully weird world of video games.

And you can unlock a wrestling ninja! I never saw the guys from Ninja Combat do a diving clothesline from the top rope. Just sayin'.

Sunday, June 28, 2026

The hell of Tiger Heli

Heli-No.
(image from Moby Games)

Okay, so I started a Toaplan retrospective and have yet to finish it. But I just had to share this phenomenally pissy review of Tiger Heli early, because it's reminding me of my wild days as the editor of The Gameroom Blitz. Also, Tiger Heli just plan sucks. What the hell, Toaplan? If you were going to make games like this, you might as well just go back to Orca and make Springer 2: Spring... Into Crap! 

Toaplan quickly course corrected, making some of the best shooters in the latter half of the 1980s, but good lord, what an inauspicious start to their career.

Yeah, Springer is awful too. It's like Donkey Kong, if Shigeru Miyamoto suffered a head injury while he made it. I mean, continually. 

TIGER HELI

Played: In a tiny hometown arcade, and also the NES

I’ll just put it on the table right now… this game sucks. It was the absolute last resort for bored gamers in my town’s short-lived arcade. When the line for the Choplifter machine went out the door (fair play, it was pretty awesome!) and the pinball machines weren’t doing it for you, your only option was… Tiger Heli. Miserable, life-draining Tiger Heli. The Bremmelo of the ball, the chain-smoking, three hundred pound date that you had to take to the prom, because you just weren’t getting anybody else. (Don’t ask where that metaphor came from.)

You don’t play Tiger Heli. You try to play Tiger Heli, and it actively fights you at every step. The enemies’ shots are much too fast to realistically avoid, hidden bonuses require a million shots to reveal, and the wimpy machine gun you’re given by default jams if you dare to use turbo fire. I’m sorry, I was attempting to save my fingers some grief and find some enjoyment in the game, but I forgot that enjoying yourself is literally punishable by death in Tiger Heli. Did I actually run out of bullets? You do know that this is a video game and I can have as many as I want, right? There’s not a shortage of pixel clusters that look like bullets.

There are power-ups in Tiger Heli. This is a 1985 game, so don’t expect to be blown away by them. In fact, don’t expect to blow anything up with the Mini Helis, revealed by collecting red and white crosses on the playfield. (Red Cross? I have a medical emergency… I have a severe fun deficiency in my blood. I blame Tiger Heli.) You’ll get them, they’ll stick around for a minute shooting tiny bullets either forward or sideways, they’ll get nicked by an oncoming bullet, they blow up, and you’re right back to your original weaksauce shot. Yaaaay.

The power-up mechanics feel a lot like Irem’s Image Fight or Jordan’s Thundercade, and neither game is one I’d regard as a high point in the genre. (No matter what the Japanese think. Sorry not sorry, but Image Fight blows!) This makes Tiger Heli the lead vampire in a family of shooters that suck. Not blood, the other thing. You get the idea.

Tiger Heli isn’t all bad. Mostly, but not entirely. The graphics have a palatable geometric look… they’re simple by Toaplan standards, but effective, particularly the diamonds that peek out of the ground and those vast expanses of ocean with the swirling white peaks. Also, when the Micronics port for the NES came out, nobody could honestly say that it sucked any more than the arcade game. They both suck; the NES port just sucks in an NES kind of way.

Thursday, June 18, 2026

Really Getting into Consoles, part one

Playing retro video games is great! But sometimes, just playing them isn't good enough... you want to get under the hood of these old systems and see what makes them tick. 

That wasn't possible in the 20th century, but thanks to BASIC compilers like Fred Quimby's Batari BASIC and Oscar Toledo's exemplary CVBasic (this thing is really good, like, you have no idea), the ability to make real retro games on real retro hardware is well within reach for the most dedicated gamers.

As it turns out, I've made games for a variety of retro game systems and computers, and these are my personal experiences coding for some of these machines. I'll warn you up front that this is going to get technical... and biased... and excessively long-winded. Also, there aren't any pictures yet. I'll add some later; probably including snapshots of games and demos I've personally made.

Atari 2600

I should preface this by saying that my development environment was Batari BASIC, which handles a lot of the heavy lifting of programming the Atari 2600 for you. You're not scrambling to stay one step ahead of a scanline... all that's handled for you in the background. This limits your horizons and tends to make games designed in Batari BASIC a little samey, but at the same time, it lowers the bar of Atari 2600 game development from "impossible" to "possible" for 99% of amateur coders.

Under normal circumstances, you'd have to "chase the scanline" to
make an Atari 2600 game. Imagine playing a game of Lumines,
except the beam is moving down instead of sideways, and any
mistake you make could be catastrophic. It's... not a fun way
to make a video game. I'm amazed Howard Scott Warshaw
has any of his marbles left.
(image from LaunchBox)

 
Even with Batari BASIC, you'll get a peek behind the curtain of the Atari 2600's internal workings, and you'll quickly understand how things function. The 2600 uses an all-purpose chip called the TIA to handle both graphics and sound, and neither are particularly accommodating to the user. 

Along with a simple background (typically blocky and symmetrical, to save on cartridge space), the Atari 2600 uses player-missile graphics, which can be set over the background without affecting it. Think of them as caveman sprites and you've got the right idea. The player is the larger of the two, up to eight pixels wide and as long as you need it to be. Missiles and the ball can also be eight pixels wide, but are simple lines or squares. You get two players, two missiles, and one ball... if you need more, you're going to have to find sneaky workarounds.

The fact that one of the playfield objects is literally named "ball" makes it clear that the Atari 2600 was purpose-built to play Pong and Breakout games, but clever programmers found ways to stretch the feeble hardware to its limits. The player objects can be a single color per line, resulting in added detail and definition. Activision used this all the time in its games, and visually, they're a quantum leap ahead of Atari 2600 launch titles like Street Racer and Star Ship. 


Player objects can be reused for multiple characters, typically at the cost of severe flicker. One player was shared between four monsters in Pac-Man, and that rapid swapping is painfully obvious to the player. One solution is to restrict player objects to their own vertical sections of the screen. This is easily done in a shooter, but in a maze game where multiple characters close in on the player from all angles, not so much!

There's not much you can do with the Atari 2600 sound generator, baked into the TIA. Some notes are missing, so trying to play them will result in the disapproving shriek of a buzzer instead. If you have great musical aspirations, either leave them behind or add a sound chip to the cartridge, like David Crane did with Pitfall 2. Some people remain nostalgic for the digital grunts and squeals of the Atari 2600 sound processor, and it does do explosions like no other game system, but don't expect much more than that.

Expansions for the Atari 2600 are numerous, and range from the relatively minor- games like Omega Race included extra RAM on the cart, a boon when the stock system only has 128 bytes to spare- to strapping a jet engine onto a Volkswagen Bug. Many of the games released by Champ Games use an ARM CPU (yes, like the kind you find in modern smartphones) to boost the Atari 2600's abilities, and boy does it boost them! The system is still restricted to the "rules" of the TIA chip, but games like GORF, Tutankham, and Super Cobra outpace the official versions by CBS Games and Parker Brothers to an almost embarrassing degree.

The Atari 2600 is an incredibly primitive system; the absolute bare minimum for effective game development. Trying to make games with it is like planting seeds in rocky soil... but damn is it satisfying when they eventually take root and blossom into flowers. Like they say about New York, if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.

ColecoVision

You can make good games with the Atari 2600. You can make better ones, more comfortably, with the ColecoVision. 

Now when I say "ColecoVision," understand that I'm talking about a wide range of game systems and computers from the early 1980s. They all use the TI9918 graphics processor, the SN76489 sound processor, and the Z80A processor, which means that you're getting roughly the same experience whether it's an actual ColecoVision, or Sega's SG-1000, or the MSX computer. There are minor differences in the formats (a new sound chip here, more RAM there), but they're largely inconsequential.

Whatever you want to call it, the ColecoVision is a solid baseline for game design. You're getting a healthy 16K of video RAM, versus the ZERO K of video RAM on the Atari 2600. This means that you don't have to babysit a scanline with the nervous fervor of a helicopter parent. Once something is on the screen, it stays there until you explicitly tell it to go away. This not only opens the ColecoVision to genres that would have been functionally impossible on the Atari 2600 (text adventures! Pretty much anything with text in it!), but takes a lot of weight off the programmer's shoulders. You're free to do the fun creative stuff, while the computer does all the tedious, computer-y stuff. As it should be!

When overlaying sprites on ColecoVision, it's important that the two colors
never touch, or else the sprites will fight for priority, and you'll get shimmering. 


Graphics are built from a combination of tiles (exactly what it sounds like; square chunks of graphic data, artfully combined to create images) and sprites. Sprites are 16x16 pixels in size and restricted to one of the ColecoVision's fifteen colors. Sprites can be layered for multi-colored characters, but know that putting more than four of them together in the same scanline will cause flicker. 

You can technically have up to 32 sprites onscreen at once, but a good designer will recognize the ColecoVision's limitations and use sprites sparingly, and keep them at a safe vertical distance. Janelle Jaquay's ColecoVision port of Donkey Kong used three sprites for Mario, making him seem like he was pulled straight out of the arcade game, but thinned out the number of onscreen barrels to compensate, resulting in a compromised experience. 

Similarly, I had to limit the output of "Plinkies" in Operation Hibernation to keep too many of them from falling on the same scanline as Byron. He's made from two sprites, in contrast to Mario's three, but there's still potential for flicker, and it does show up in the fish ladder bonus stage.


Sprites can only be one color, but a single tile can be up to fifteen! On the downside, only two of these colors can share a single eight pixel line. It's not good enough to be a good artist on the ColecoVision... you've also got to be a smart one, carefully piecing together tiles to respect the system's limitations while still effectively expressing yourself. Visually "busy" ColecoVision games tend to look very angular as a result of the 9918's limitations... which is why I suggest you stick with black backgrounds. They're a fitting canvas for old-school video games, they use up less storage, and you can cheat an extra color out of sprites, on a system without a whole lot of sprites to spare.

Sound on the ColecoVision is provided by the SN7 chip, and is perfectly competent. The Atari 2600 squawks when you play certain notes, but the ColecoVision has a wider musical range, covering six octaves. It also has three sound channels, with a fourth noise channel providing explosions and the roar of engines. If you're a practiced musician, you can get some respectable tunes out of the ColecoVision... Spy Hunter is proof enough of that. (Frenzy's pause music is similarly impressive, but terrifying. What the hell, Coleco?) If you're me, you'll muddle through.

Do be aware that the bounty of enhancements in the ColecoVision comes with some trade-offs. Explosions on the SN7 are... fair, but don't have the raw, window-rattling impact of the bangs and booms on the Atari 2600. Also, the ColecoVision color palette is gallingly drab, with sickly yellows and almost browns that leave tarnish on Coleco's claim of the arcade experience at home. 

The ColecoVision color palette, which sucks,
in case I haven't already belabored the point.

Here's a personal example. I've been at work on a game called Lucky Stars, which mimics the fun and witty banter of the 21st century revival of Let's Make a Deal. The characters in Lucky Stars look very much like LMAD's real-life hosts, at least as much as the TI9918 will allow. However, "Way Waynee" is an off-putting bronze, while "Oneggin Megma" isn't just white... he's ghost white, as pale as Jim Gaffigan on the surface of the sun. It's just ugly, especially when you're migrating from Atari's more vibrant consoles.

Also, the ColecoVision doesn't have much in the way of hardware features. It doesn't have built-in scrolling, so any scrolling you attempt will look ugly and off-putting, like the colors. You can hit a switch to double the size of sprites (all onscreen sprites. Well, it could have been a useful feature...) but you're not going to be blowing anyone's mind with Treasure-level special effects on this hardware. Even the 2600's TIA chip let you squash, stretch, and multiply players, but you're not getting any of that here. You can't flip tiles, you can't flip sprites, you can't swap palettes... there's a lot you can't do on the ColecoVision, actually. If you design software for this barebones format, you'd better make sure the core gameplay is excellent.

Nintendo Entertainment System

I haven't done much with this system at all... just a couple of demos, including Byron freaking out at a flashing screen. Nevertheless, it's become clear to me that the NES is not the super system I believed it was in 1988.

Designed as a cost-friendly version of the arcade hardware used in Donkey Kong, the Nintendo Entertainment System does offer critical improvements over the ColecoVision and its kin. It can handle scrolling either horizontally or vertically... the ColecoVision can't. The NES can flip tiles and even sprites, conserving precious video RAM... the ColecoVision can't. Instead of 15 lousy colors, the NES has a palette of 52 moderately better ones, with about two dozen available onscreen at any given moment.


However! There's a catch. (There's always a catch with technology this early, it seems.) The NES is restricted to a "rule of fours," where no more than four colors can exist inside a tile, and no more than three colors (plus a transparency) can exist inside a sprite. Tiles must be placed strategically to make the most of four segregated micro-palettes, an annoyance to the pixel artist. (An additional four micro-palettes are available for sprites, but they're best reserved for sprites, which typically consist of black, white, and a defining color.) You'll notice that in official NES games, many of the tiles have three shades of the same color to boost detail. It achieves that effect, but this also makes NES games feel square, tiled, and inorganic.

Also, while the NES has double the memory of the ColecoVision, it's got a small fraction of the VRAM (2K versus 16K! Holy lobotomy, Batman!) and a slower clock speed. You really feel it when you code for the system, and have to drop a damn WAIT statement for every four lines of graphics so the little toaster that barely could can catch up. It doesn't make me eager to code games for the NES, even though I was a card-carrying member of the Nintendo cult in the late 1980s. Who didn't want to make a Nintendo game back in 1988? Anyone who looked under the hood of this jalopy, apparently.

Sega Master System

Oh, Sega Master System! I didn't appreciate you back in the 1980s, but looking back, I should have. This is the peak evolution of the purely 8-bit game system... it simply does not get any better than this, if "this" ends at 255.

Sega's previous console, the SG-1000, was basically a rebadge of the ColecoVision with the serial numbers filed off. However, when Sega engineer Hideki Sato got a hold of the hardware, he quickly determined, "Hey, color limitations suck ass. Color clash likewise sucks ass. Let's not have that in the sequel. Let's also have color with saturation, so yellows look bright and sunny, and not like that disgusting crust you get in your eyes when you first wake up in the morning."


And so he set about making a Sega-branded successor to the TMS9918 with all of these features. NO color clash! Put any color from a palette of sixteen hues (selected from a large, if often redundant, total of 64) anywhere you please. The world is your oyster, the display is your canvas. It makes a monumental difference in the creation of pixel artwork. Oops, I just put a brown pixel right next to a white AND a gray one! And there's a pink pixel and a blue pixel somewhere in the tile, too! Aren't the hardware cops going to take me away for that? No, not on Master System. Just relax, unclench your sphincter, and let your artistic side take over.

Sprites offer similar freedom to the user, with another fifteen colors (plus a transparency!) that can be used however and wherever you like. Genesis does what Nintendon't, even before there was a Genesis, apparently! This reaps huge benefits in games like Rampage, which approaches a near-Sega Genesis level of detail, versus the laughable NES version. Add the ability to flip tiles, and the ability to stamp tiles over tiles without leaving ugly black boxes around them, and you've got one ridiculously overachieving 8-bit machine in the Sega Master System. No wonder the Brazilians are still using it in 2026. No wonder I'm making games for it!



As a Super ColecoVision, the Master System retains some of its sire's quirks. There's no hardware sprite collision, so you're going to have to manually determine if two sprites are touching by comparing their onscreen positions. The SN7 is the same (Sega rebranded it, but there's no effective difference), and comes up a little short next to the best music on the NES. It's a bit of a soprano, so don't expect the thunderous percussion of, say, Fester's Quest or Batman. The resolution on the Master System remains the same as it was on the ColecoVision, and at a respectable 256x192, it doesn't really need to be any higher. In fact, back ports from the Game Gear to the Master System often look better because of the increased screen real estate. 256x192 starts to feel pretty luxurious next to the Game Gear's crushing resolution of 160x144...

Bottom line? The Master System is deceptively great hardware. It didn't get that kind of love in the software department, but it's getting it now. Mighty Cuphead Adventure jumped over the NES and went straight to the Master System, ensuring players a genuine 8-bit experience that doesn't skimp on the visual delights. I've already made two games for the Master System, and I literally cannot conceive a situation where I will use the full span of its power. It's the place to be if you're making a game for real retro hardware.

(Shame about the lack of buttons, though. Just two, with pause on the front of the system itself? Come on, Sega. Come oooooon.) 

Friday, June 5, 2026

That's a Paddlin' (Barbarricade dev retrospective)

 


That's another ColecoVision game in the can. This time it's Barbarricade, a Breakanoid where the wall holds a grudge. This is the first original ColecoVision game of its kind with support for analog controllers, a feature Spectravideo's Flipper Slipper and Bit's Strike It! both lack. 

(Of course, you can play the game with a joystick, with three speeds for the title character, but I don't really recommend it. It's just not how you want to play these games.)


And what's so special about Barbarricade beyond the sharp analog control? It's a straightforward game, a little more complicated than Breakout but without the overload of power-ups in Arkanoid. There are five kinds of blocks. The blue ones can be destroyed with no threat to the player, but the red ones send the parting gift of a "stab," a winged dart that will slice your paddle in half. Green blocks award high-value coins, while gold blocks send your ball back to you at double its usual speed. Finally, there's concrete, which doesn't break at all, but can be used to deflect the ball toward breakable blocks. Every block moves down one tile after three serves, making things increasingly tight for the player if they don't finish the stage quickly.

It's a simple set-up, but it works well enough... you have to be mindful of what your ball is about to hit at any moment, and respond appropriately. Survive for twelve stages and you get to fight the master of this militia of malicious blocks, Nolan Contendre. Batter him with the ball for a while and he'll be sent back to his world of high colors and chunky resolutions!

Barbarricade was an easier project than my four other games. It's a brick-breaker. The biggest challenge was getting convincing movement from the ball, and from deflections. Normally you'd use decimals to adjust the trajectory of the ball at a minute level, but the ColecoVision prefers to work with integers, or whole numbers. My solution was to use the ones as tenths and the tens as ones, and use a constant speed variable along with a "bank" variable that determines how many pixels, if any, the ball moves in a single frame. If the speed variable is 25, the ball will move two pixels in the first frame, then three pixels in the next frame, since the leftover 5 will be combined with the 5 in the next frame. 

This, combined with twenty points of deflection on the paddle, results in more trajectories for the ball, and more spontaneity in the gameplay. I used to make brick breaker games for my VIC-20 as a kid, and generally, the ball's movement would be stiff, generally moving either one space either straight up or diagonally per frame. There's a lot of angles for the ball in Barbarricade, and it makes a huge impact on the gameplay.

Barbarricade also has a handful of features you might not expect from a ColecoVision game... the first, of course, is the boss. You battle a parody of Atari founder Nolan Bushnell, who fires lasers from his eyes as a fireball bounces around the screen. The second are "carrots," special bonuses for finishing stages without losing a ball or with the blocks dropped all the way to the bottom of the playfield. It's a bit like an achievement, but a whole lot more like the secret bonuses awarded in Sega's grossly unappreciated Astro Blaster. The third is a level select which opens up as you clear stages... reach stage four on your own and you can return to it in subsequent plays.

Finally, there's a hidden mode based on the extremely old arcade title Clean Sweep, a brick breaker without any bricks. How does this work? Well, the ball sweeps up dots, only changing directions when it hits the playfield walls or the paddle. It's not a great game, but adding the Clean Sweep stage was trivial due to the simplicity of the logic. The ball touches a dot, it erases it and you get points. That's it. It's there if you want it, but you'll probably only want to play it once.

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Oscar Toledo Gutierrez, the creator of CVBasic, for his continued diligence in refining and expanding his compiler. None of my ColecoVision games would be possible without it, and the addition of analog controls in the latest build only broadens the horizons of developers like myself. Also, props must go to Willie from ArcadeUSA, who tested the game on real hardware with a Roller Controller, and also found a bug with the stabs that wasn't evident on an emulator. If you set tiles outside the playfield, emulators like GearColeco don't care, but the real system sure as hell does! That's since been fixed.

Proposed Master System port

So what's next? I'm thinking "Master System port." There's already an SG-1000 version of Barbarricade, codenamed "Canary..." it wouldn't be tremendously hard to redraw the graphics for SMS, giving them a welcome burst of color and detail. Heck, I could even expand the cartridge to 128K and add in a bunch more stages. Twelve was all I could fit into the ColecoVision game, but that could easily be doubled or tripled on the Master System with bankswitching. Maybe I could even add a versus mode for two players! The expanded hardware offers a lot of possibilities; ones worth exploring. It doesn't hurt that native Master System games will also run on a Genesis, or that Master System games look ten times better on a Master System than SG-1000 games do...