Welcome to WonderSwan World: the WonderSwan Color system

Before I start sharing my experiences with the many WonderSwan and WonderSwan Color games already in my collection, I thought I should say a few words about the WonderSwan system.

Actually, I can't say anything about the original, black-and-white WonderSwan system (released all the way back in 1999), as I've never played one. For the same reason, I also can't say anything about the third piece of WonderSwan hardware, the SwanCrystal, which hit Japanese store shelves in 2002. (I plan on buying one of the latter in the next few months, by the way, so hopefully I'll be able to chat about it soon.)

What I can talk about here: the WonderSwan Color system. It made its debut (in Japan, of course) in late 2000--just a year and a half after Bandai shipped the original model of its GameBoy Color competitor.

As its name implies, the WonderSwan Color added a color screen to the mix. That screen is a tad larger than the one built into the original WonderSwan, by the way--2.9 inches (diagonally) compared to about 2.5 inches.

Actually, the WonderSwan Color hardware as a whole is a bit bigger than that of its predecessor as well. I can't pass along the exact dimensions of either system right now, but the WonderSwan Color is approximately the same size as two iPhone 5Cs stacked on top of each other.



Besides that, the WonderSwan Color is powered by a single AA battery (which allows for around 20 hours of play) and, mostly importantly and intriguingly, offers users a bevy of buttons and control inputs.

The most curious of those input options are the pair of split directional pads situated along the left side of the system. To be honest, I have a feeling they're not really split d-pads. Instead, they're probably just buttons arranged to look like and simulate a pad. Regardless, you use them to control movement while playing WonderSwan games (and quite adroitly, I might add), so I guess it doesn't matter if they're really split directional pads or not.

At any rate, the cool thing about this particular grouping of buttons is they let you play a WonderSwan system horizontally or vertically. (When the system is held vertically, the left set of buttons act as the system's d-pad, while the right set act as action buttons.)

Now, you can't just switch between the two willy-nilly. Most games stick to one orientation for the entirety of the experience, with the majority forcing you to hold your WonderSwan horizontally, like a GameBoy Advance, PSP or Vita. Don't fret if the ability to play handheld games vertically has you excited, though; a good number of WonderSwan titles require you to hold your system in that position. (A handful of examples from my own collection: Puzzle Bobble, Rainbow Islands: Putty's Party and Tane wo Maku Tori.) Also, a select few--including Kaze no Klonoa: Midnight Museum and Makaimura--incorporate both orientations into their gameplay.

Some words of warning about playing WonderSwan games with the system held vertically: it's not all it's cracked up to be. Don't get me wrong, it's unique and interesting, but it's not always enjoyable or comfortable, mainly because the system is so small. (If your hands are tiny, you may not have any problems holding it. But if your hands are on the larger side, prepare for some uncomfortable moments while playing vertically oriented WonderSwan titles.)

Still, experiencing portable games in this manner is such a breath of fresh air that I think it's worth dealing with the occasional hand cramp it's bound to cause.



That's nothing compared to the main issue associated with using a WonderSwan Color, which is its screen isn't illuminated. Although recent portable game systems like Nintendo's DS and 3DS, or Sony's PSP and Vita, feature backlit screens, all three of Bandai's WonderSwan models follow in the footsteps of older handhelds--like the GameBoy or the Neo Geo Pocket--by utilizing screens that are only visible under plenty of ambient light. (And in the case of the original WonderSwan as well as the WonderSwan Color, you have to futz with the system's contrast wheel before you can see anything clearly, even in perfect lighting conditions.)

This may not sound so bad if you've never tried playing a handheld without a backlit (or frontlit) screen, but believe me, it can be a challenge. I often feel like I have to squint to see what's going on even in perfect lighting.

Given that, I can't exactly recommend everyone run out and buy a WonderSwan Color along with a pile of WonderSwan cartridges, as I imagine most people who are used to more modern portable gaming hardware will find it difficult to fully enjoy Bandai's offering.

If you've spent plenty of time with a GameBoy or GameBoy Color or GameBoy Advance in recent months or years, though, and as a result you're basically aware of what you'll be getting into with the WonderSwan Color, go ahead and buy one. (Or, better yet, spend the extra cash needed to pick up a SwanCrystal, as it supposedly sports the best screen of the bunch.)

Before you do that, though, you may want to wait until I've written about a few of its games. Thankfully, I'm planning to publish "Welcome to WonderSwan World" posts about a slew of titles--such as Clock Tower, Engacho!, Puzzle Bobble and Rainbow Islands: Putty's Party--over the next couple of weeks.

See also: more photos of my WonderSwan Color system and collection of WonderSwan games

Nice Package! (Landstalker, Mega Drive)

Sega's (or maybe I should say Climax Entertainment's) Landstalker is one of a small handful of games that really defined the 16-bit era for me.

As much as I loved the 8-bit systems--oh, boy, did I (and still do)--the color and resolution bumps showcased in games produced for their 16-bit successors blew my teenage mind.

If you aren't old enough to have lived through the transition from 8-bit to 16-bit gaming, compare the Famicom port of Konami's TwinBee to Pop'n TwinBee for the Super Famicom. Or compare, say, the battles in any of Enix's first four Dragon Quest titles to those in Tengai Makyou II: Manji Maru for the PC Engine Super CD-ROM2 system.

When Landstalker was first shown off in the gaming magazines I pored over as a youngster, I compared it to the likes of Square's Final Fantasy Adventure and Nintendo's The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past. Those titles were (and continue to be) gorgeous in their own right, of course, but back when Landstalker was released, especially, its aesthetic looked light years beyond what they offered up.

To be honest, I can't say I enjoyed playing Landstalker as much as I enjoyed playing Final Fantasy Adventure or A Link to the Past (the isometric perspective in Climax's effort often makes things awkward), but that's a different story.

At any rate, I'll always have a soft spot for Landstalker. Which I guess helps explain why I recently picked up a complete-on-box copy of the Japanese Mega Drive version of the game. (And before that, I bought copies of two other great Mega Drive games: Shining Force and Shining Force II. I guess I should add Shining and the Darkness to the pile ASAP.)



Would I have picked up a copy of Landstalker even if I hated the game? Given its eye-popping packaging, probably.

Hell, the cover art alone is worth the price of admission in my humble opinion, though its cart label (above) certainly is no slouch.

The Landstalker Mega Drive manual is a looker, too, as the photos included in this post hopefully prove.

Even the back of this Japanese game's box, below, is easy on the eyes.

Speaking of which, I love that someone at developer Climax named Landstalker's isometric engine. (That would be "Diamond Shaped Dimension System," or "DDS 520," for the curious.) Sadly, I don't believe they ever used it for another Mega Drive or Genesis game.

Are any of you Landstalker fans? If so, what are your favorite aspects of this 16-bit RPG?

See also: previous 'Nice Package!' posts

Manual Stimulation: Taiyou no Tenshi Marlowe (GameBoy)

Considering how well Nintendo's GameBoy sold outside of Japan, the number of quality titles that never left the handheld's home country amazes me.

Technos' Taiyou no Tenshi Marlowe: Ohanabatake wa Dai-Panic is a great example.

Its gameplay is difficult to describe, as it's unlike anything I've played before or since. If forced, I'd probably defer to something like "single-screen arcade action," but of course that doesn't give anyone much of an idea as to what they'll experience should they pick up and play a copy of this 1994 release.



Would calling it a cute tower-defense game help at all? That's basically what Taiyou no Tenshi Marlowe is, although even that doesn't completely do its gameplay justice.

For some additional detail, read this 2014 write-up of mine: "Taiyou no Tenshi Marlowe: Ohanabatake wa Dai-Panic is both a mouthful and an eyeful." I'd say more here, but I want this post to focus on the game's adorable instruction manual.



And it is adorable, don't you think? That's mostly due to its wonderful illustrations, of course, but I'd say it's also due to the pastel hues its designers used while printing it.



Actually, it's a good thing those pastels are present, because they really spruce up a few of the manual's handful of humdrum pages and spreads.



The map seen on the page below shows off the many different lands that host Taiyou no Tenshi Marlowe's stages, by the way.



One cool thing about this game's stages is you can tackle them in whatever order strikes your fancy.

My 10 Most Influential Games: Bubble Bobble (Arcade)

Although I have a pretty good memory, I'm rarely able to recall my first experiences with specific video games.

Thankfully, that's not true of my introduction to Bubble Bobble.

As I'm sure I've mentioned here before, my hometown has a rather nice bowling alley that my friends and I visited regularly while we were growing up. Tucked into its back corner were a slough of arcade cabinets and pinball machines, and we spent as much time playing them as we did bowling.

Among the games that gobbled up our hard-earned allowance money: Gauntlet, Karate Champ, Paperboy, Pole Position, Ring King, Xenophobe--and of course Bubble Bobble.

To be completely honest, I'm not entirely sure what drew my attention to Bubble Bobble's cabinet for the first time. I have a feeling it was the game's glorious, ear-wormy jingle, but it very well may have been its adorable, rainbow-coated visuals.

Something I remember clearly about my initial experiences with this classic quarter-muncher: I absolutely sucked at it. Although I blame some of my ineptitude on not fully understanding Bubble Bobble's rules right off the bat, but mostly I blame it on my life-long discomfort with using a joystick. (Ironic, right? Seriously, though, I've always preferred using a d-pad.)

Still, I kept coming back to it, and over time I got better and better at this Fukio Mitsuji-made (for Taito) title.

So, how did it influence my current taste in video games? It did so in a couple of ways, actually.

One is that it hurled me down the path toward loving games that feature collectible food items. Ms. Pac-Man showed me to its entrance (thanks to the level that offers up a pretzel rather than a piece of fruit, strangely enough), but Bubble Bobble and its bowls of sherbet, corndogs, sushi and martinis pushed me well inside.

Ever since, I've drooled over almost any game that includes such nabables. A few examples: Coryoon, Monster Lair, The New Zealand Story and Parasol Stars. (For more, read my old post, "the 10 fruitiest games (of which I'm aware).")

Bubble Bobble shaped my current taste in video games in another way as well--by opening my eyes to the wonderful world of single-screen platformers. (Here are some of my favorites, in case you're curious.)

Was Bubble Bobble the first single-screen platformer to see the light of day? Not by a long shot. A game called The Fairyland Story--also published by Taito, interestingly enough--beat Bub and Bob to the arcades by at least a year, and I wouldn't be surprised if a handful of other titles could claim the same.

Regardless, Bubble Bobble introduced me to the genre that's now one of my favorites. And not only that, but in the ensuing decades, it's served as a point of comparison for every other single-screen platformer that's come my way.

Naturally, none of those wannabes have quite stacked up to this 1986 release. I think that's because the game they so desperately try to ape is supremely focused and straightforward.

A case in point: unlike most of the games that have tried to snatch its genre-king crown over the years, Bubble Bobble keeps its control scheme simple. You can jump, you can blow bubbles, you can hop on bubbles--and that's basically it. (OK, so some levels let you pop bubbles that send lightning bolts at enemies or cover platforms with swaths of fire, but they're in the minority. The bulk of the game's levels force you to focus on the trio of aforementioned actions.)

Also, Bubble Bobble's stages never take up more than a single screen (hence the name of the gaming genre that contains it). And then, of course, there are its timeless graphics and its grin-inducing background tune.

At the end of the day, though, the aspect that keeps me coming back to Bubble Bobble, and that causes me to label it "influential," is its unfailingly enjoyable gameplay. Even when one of its stages is kicking my butt (an all too regular occurrence, I'm afraid), it never stops being fun.

I can't say that about too many games, can you?

See also: previous '10 Most Influential Games' posts about The 7th Guest and Balloon Kid.

Introducing: Welcome to WonderSwan World

I'm not sure anyone asked for this, but here it is anyway: a new blog series in the vein of my "A Decade of DS," "Year of the GameBoy" and "10 Most Influential Games" projects.

(Both the "10 Most Influential Games" and "Year of the GameBoy" efforts will continue in the coming weeks and months, by the way. In fact, I'll publish my next entry in the former series in just a couple of days.)

So, what will I write about in future "Welcome to WonderSwan World" posts? Bandai's Japan-only WonderSwan portable gaming system, of course--as well as its library of black-and-white as well as color titles.

I certainly have enough to cover in these write-ups. I've been buying WonderSwan games for a number of years now--hell, I'd already acquired 10 by the time I published this post in mid-2015.



That number jumped to 16 (I think) after I obtained a translucent black WonderSwan Color system and a handful of complete-in-box cartridges via eBay later that same year. (You can read all about that experience, and see photos of the auction's contents, in "the 'Tumbleweed Portable Club' (of lonely WonderSwan owners) has another member.")

At any rate, my "Welcome to WonderSwan World" posts will differ a bit from my "A Decade of DS" and "Year of the GameBoy" ones. The plan at the moment is for them to focus on a single game at a time, first and foremost. Also, they'll offer up relevant historical details on the titles in question as well as gameplay explanations or descriptions.

I'm not thinking of these write-ups as reviews, by the way, although you'll definitely walk away from them knowing whether or not I'd recommend others buy and play the games at their center.

With all that out of the way, I hope at least some of you enjoy this new series--even if this is the first you're hearing of this wonderfully (and oddly) named handheld.