Castlevania: Symphony of the Night — Retro Gaming Essentials (No. 25)

“What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets.”

“Die, monster. You don’t belong in this world!”

Early on during a playthrough of Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, the gamer is presented with that exact exchange in absurdly over-the-top voiceovers. 

The moment is memorable for its ridiculousness, and has by now, of course, been turned into various Internet memes.

The dialogue, however, serves as a helpful guide for what is to come.

“What is a man?” is hinting at the ambiguous nature of our protagonist, the anti-hero son of Dracula himself.

“A miserable little pile of secrets.” explains the nature or perhaps selling point of the game itself.

“Die, monster.” is the definition of Castlevania games in their purest form.

And “You don’t belong in this world!” provides foreshadowing for the game’s biggest twist.

Like the best James Bond stunts or the coolest action sequences in a Star Wars movie, the excitement here is explained before it is shown.

Was that intentional? 

Who knows? 

But the end result is the same: the game builds anticipation and sets expectations at the outset, and then delivers upon those promises in spectacular fashion.

(We also got a really goofy bit of dialogue out of the deal.)

This game, Symphony of the Night, is going to give you a traditional 2D Castlevania experience with a new, exciting lead character, a ton of hidden secrets amidst a sprawling space to explore, and a massive plot twist halfway through.

Once properly warned in the game’s prologue, the gamer is free to let the whole experience just wash over them.

And what an experience it is.

“Castlevania: Symphony of the Night” at a glance:
Genre: Exploring platformer
Released: 1997
Platform: PlayStation
EGM’s “12th Best Console Game of All Time”

Continue reading Castlevania: Symphony of the Night — Retro Gaming Essentials (No. 25)

Contra: Retro Gaming Essentials (No. 24)

Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, Start.

An intrepid gamer in the late 80s and early 90s knew that when a Konami game was booting up, this series of inputs would net the player a reward of some kind.

It generally came at the beginning of the adventure, and while it delivered to varying degrees depending on the title one was playing, the “Konami” code always signaled a new beginning or fresh start (though since the code never changed, it also inspired a feeling of familiarity?). 

Probably more importantly, the Konami code represented the equivalent of a person starting on third base. It was a chance to beat the game (or at least gain the advantage) before the fight had even commenced.

It was also a fairly new concept for its time. Sure, you had Super Mario Bros. warp zones and other shortcuts available to you in other games, but generally not something you could do to affect the outcome of the game before it even kicked off.

And giving it a forbidden fruit vibe, it’s debatable whether the gamer was even “supposed” to use the code to begin with.

The Konami code, like the warp zones or other “cheats” that preceded it, was put into the game not to assist the gamer, but rather the programmers and designers who needed to get to later sections of the game in quicker fashion to do testing. 

And it makes sense; putting these tricks into the game will increase productivity, so why not do it?

Once these cheats made it out into the wild, however, they were fair game for everyone to use, whether people were meant to have access to them or not. Not knowing made it almost illicit. Like, “Oooh, I’m part of the cool kids club because I know this thing I wasn’t supposed to know.”

Maybe this was a little silly. Despite public acknowledgement that the code only remained because of a lack of time to remove it, if we’re honest with ourselves, I think there was a wink there from the developers. Why would they keep the code the same from game to game if they positively didn’t want the end user to have it?

Moreover, the secrecy of the code evaporated fairly quickly. It eventually became so pervasive and ingrained in pop culture that it was deemed T-shirt worthy. It is a secret no more.

Regardless, this code made its first appearance in the 1986 NES port of the side-scrolling shooter Gradius – a very fine game with the code’s effect of course being beneficial (all power-ups attained) – but the code didn’t REALLY become synonymous with Konami or gaming in general until the release of Contra in 1988. 

The difference here, with Contra, was significant.

Deliver those commands in quick enough fashion, and the player would be given 30 lives instead of 3, an improvement in odds so ridiculous that the entire context of the game itself is changed.

Instead of a brutally difficult game that allowed for no missteps whatsoever and required a thorough memorization of every step of the process, you’re left with a forgiving, breezy adventure that encourages repeat plays anyway (and said memorization that would occur a little more organically through desired – not forced – repetition).

“Contra is stupid hard and always has been.”

“What about the Konami code?”

“Well, yeah, okay, that made it easier.”

Presto, the entire game is different.

Not that it needed to be.

“Contra” at a glance:
Genre: Run-and-gun shooter
Released: 1988
Platform: NES
No. 13 on Game Informer’s best games ever

Continue reading Contra: Retro Gaming Essentials (No. 24)