Five reasons I hate myself for waiting 17 years to play through Luigi's Mansion for the first time

The Nintendo GameCube came out at a time when I basically ignored video games.

Although I remember playing a bit of Super Mario 64 with my college roommates, that was pretty much the extent of my involvement and interest in the hobby for a good number of years.

In fact, I don't remember coming back into the fold, so to speak, until sometime in 2004--after Nintendo dropped the price of the console to $99 and released a "Player's Choice" version of Animal Crossing.

Did I follow up those acquisitions by purchasing Luigi's Mansion, too? Nope. Sadly, I can't tell you why I failed to do that, though I suspect the "word on the street" that the game was criminally short had something to do with it.

Oh, well, all is forgiven since I eventually picked up a copy, right? Plus, as the headline of this post hopefully makes clear, I also own the recently released 3DS port (remake?) of the game.

Speaking of Luigi's Mansion for the 3DS, I played through it last week. Yes, all the way through it--right to the end credits. Here are my favorite aspects of that 10-plus-hour journey, which double as reasons why I hate myself for waiting so long to fully experience this game.

Sucking up ghosts with the Poltergust 3000 is surprisingly fun--I know what some of you are thinking here: how could sucking up ghosts not be fun? The thing is, I played a tiny bit of the GameCube version of Luigi's Mansion before I started through this 3DS port-make (sorry, I don't know what to call it), and that aspect of the game left me feeling conflicted. On the one hand, I found it refreshingly unique. On the other, it was more annoying--or maybe I should say less thrilling--than I assumed it would be. Well, you can toss all of that out the window. It didn't take long for the 3DS iteration to wipe those earlier experiences from my memory. For the most part, bagging baddies here is both amusing and gratifying. There are exceptions, of course--the final battle being a prime example--but thankfully they fail to spoil the fun.

Luigi's humming makes my heart melt--And not only that, but it makes traipsing through the halls and rooms of his freebie mansion more grin-inducing than it has any right to be given the game's ghoulish focus. On a related note, I'm pretty sure I followed every single stint with Luigi's Mansion by humming its theme song myself. If that's not a testament to how cute and catchy both the tune and the character's rendition of it are, I don't know what is. (By the way, a similar aspect of Luigi's Mansion that makes my heart melt and mouth break into a grin is that it dedicates a button to calling for Mario.)

The room designs are dazzling--Gaining access to a new room in Luigi's Mansion (you unlock them as you progress through the game) is an honest-to-goodness treat. Each one sports a different theme--from bathroom to ballroom to billiards room and beyond--and each one is lavishly decorated. Picking a favorite must be like picking a favorite child if you're a parent. It's impossible! They're such a delight that contemplating which ones are the best is a complete waste of time. Instead, I'd suggest you do what I did: accept that all of them are top-notch and then brace yourself to be bowled over whenever you get to venture inside one for the first time.

The game's portrait ghosts and battles are pretty awesome, too--If this component of Luigi's Mansion doesn't return for the just-announced Switch sequel (I've heard that 2013's Dark Moon eschews it), I'm going to have a hissy fit. It's right up there with the titular manor's lovingly appointed rooms in making this such an endearing and entrancing game. Why? For starters, the "portrait ghosts" in question are quite a bunch. There's the scarf-knitting granny, the lily-loving bodybuilder, and the bed-wetting girl--plus 19 others. Also, they all attack you in different ways, and they all have different weak points, too. In other words, Luigi's Mansion keeps you on your toes--and gives your eyes a pretty good workout as well.

Experiencing all of the above in full 3D is so mind-blowing I couldn't play it any other way--Before you roll your eyes at me, consider this: my 3DS' depth slider rarely leaves the "off" position. I made an exception when I booted up Luigi's Mansion for the first time, though, because I knew that was the game's raison d'être. I ended up liking it so much I spent my entire 11-hour-ish playthrough with the 3D effect turned on. What can I say? It made the mansion's numerous living spaces look even more marvelous than they did otherwise.

Have any of you played either the original version of Luigi's Mansion or the 3DS rerelease discussed here? If so, what did you think of it?

See also: 'five reasons I hate myself for waiting 29 years to finish Capcom's Sweet Home' and 'five reasons I (mostly) hate myself for waiting 26 years to play Super Mario Land 2 for the first time'

Five reasons I hate myself for waiting 29 years to finish Capcom's Sweet Home

Like Super Mario Land 2, which I discussed in my last post, Capcom's Sweet Home is an old game I've been meaning to play for many decades now. Nearly three decades, in fact.

Unlike that 1992 GameBoy title, however, I'd at least booted up this scary Famicom RPG from 1989 on a few occasions over the years.

I'd never gotten more than an hour or so into it, though--or at least I hadn't until I started my way through it about a week ago.

Well, that's all in the past. This time around, I played Sweet Home for just over 12 hours. And not only that, but I finished it.

So why do I hate myself for waiting 29 years to thoroughly explore this game's hair-raising halls and grounds? Here are the five reasons that first popped into my head:

Sweet Home absolutely nails the feeling of being locked in a haunted mansion--Seems impossible, doesn't it? After all, not only is the dwelling in question crafted using 8-bit sprites, but it's depicted using a top-down perspective, too. Despite that, Sweet Home is as nail-bitingly claustrophobic as any survival-horror game that takes place in such an eerie (and similarly cramped) locale. You really feel like you're stalking the spooky hallways of an evil manor while playing Sweet Home, and that's a real accomplishment as far as I'm concerned.

Its soundtrack only adds to the tension--Sweet Home's music isn't always easy on the ears. Hell, sometimes it's downright annoying. It's pretty much always fitting, though. As in, even when the game's backing tunes are discordantly irritating, they complement what's happening on your TV screen. Don't take this to mean there are no standouts on Sweet Home's soundtrack. In fact, quite a few of its songs could be heralded as stellar. I'm especially fond of the "eastern garden" tune, with its lightning-like percussion flourishes, and the sweetly melancholy "fresco theme."

I love how its story is revealed in bits and pieces--In most RPGs, you learn about its story through banter between party members or conversations with non-player characters. Here, you're mostly made aware of it via notes and even paintings you discover while exploring the titular "home." That gives the game an air of mystery I'm not sure it would have if it'd stuck more closely to the traditions of the genre. It also enhances the sense of loneliness and unease that permeates this Japan-only release.

The turn-based battles in this game are surprisingly unique--Yes, you read that correctly: Sweet Home features turn-based battles. And they're not unlike those you encounter in Dragon Quest or Mother or numerous other 8-bit RPGs with first-person fights. So what's unique about the ones on offer here? A good example is the "pray" option, which increases your power if you time things right. Another example is the "call" option, which lets you bring straggling party members into an on-going battle. (Although five characters are at your disposal while playing Sweet Home, you're forced to split them into groups of two or three. When you select this command, the game cuts away from the fight at hand so you can move one or more other party members to its location.)

It's nearly the perfect length for an RPG--As I mentioned earlier, my just-completed playthrough of Sweet Home took just over 12 hours. That's a breath of fresh air for someone (such as myself) who rarely has the time, energy, or attention span to deal with 100-plus-hour behemoths like Octopath Traveler. Which isn't to suggest Sweet Home's pacing is perfect. I actually thought it overstayed its welcome by an hour or two. Still, I'll take that over the aforementioned alternative any day.

There's only one other aspect of Sweet Home that turned me off, by the way. What is it? The way it severely limits how many items you and your intrepid companions can hold. I understand why the game's developers decided against giving players unlimited space for these objects (which include candles, fire extinguishers, and pieces of rope), but I wish they'd been a bit more lenient. Thankfully, you can drop seemingly pointless tools and wares on the ground and return for them later if the need arises.

That pair of slight missteps notwithstanding, I found my latest (and most successful) foray through Sweet Home's halls and grounds both fascinating and exhilarating. So much so, in fact, that I can't wait to enter its creepy confines again this time next year.