So, yeah. Disk 24. When I was young we had a lot of computer magazines and other books by publishers like Compute! that has a lot of example programs for Atari BASIC (the programming language) So, since I was a social outcast nerd, I spent a lot of time using these books to write my own programs for the Atari. Everybody thought I was going to grow up to be some big shot computer programmer because of this, but what they didn’t know was that, instead of developing my own programming or coding skills to create new and original programs, I was mostly literally copying these straight out of the books we had and then sometimes adding goofy jokes to them (and since I did almost all of these when I was still in elementary school, the “jokes” are of the hilarious caliber one can expect from an 11-year-old or younger). So I thought I’d go through this disk the same way I went through the L.E.A.P. disks and just do a quick runthrough of these silly little things my child self did, with generous help from Atari manuals and magazines (and if you want to check these out, here’s the disk image for emulator use. Make sure to load it with BASIC enabled and type “RUN”D:MENU” to get it all working).
Like with L.E.A.P. disks, notable programs will be marked with a heart (♥), and screenshots may come up if I think they’re needed. All of the programs with a “T” at the end I said were “technical” programs, which means they’re more tech demos to show off graphics and such (and I probably just copied these line by line out of a manual with no edits at all).
♥ Escape — A “Choose Your Own Adventure” thing where you were searching for a treasure when two thieves trapped you in the basement of an old house, but soon you found a crack in the wall and found this vast underground cavern to explore, Goonies-style. About all the input the user has is to pick a tunnel from one to six, down which various things happen, such as a snake chasing you down, a hole that you fall through to another crossroads (i.e. the tunnel destinations get re-randomized), a message that says, “Blah. Wrong Tunnel,” an insta-kill bomb, and so on. At the end you randomly find a gun and have to shoot some bad guys (really just an ASCII character that moves across the screen and you hit the joystick button when it’s in your sights) and you win! Yay?
MusicDrw — Billed as “A Game by Jeff & Ben” (myself and my brother, respectively), you just control a pixel that moves about the screen drawing a brown line behind it. Also, a tone plays that rises in pitch if you move down or right, and lowers in pitch if you move up or left.
♥ Politics – You’re the mayor of a town, and the citizens keep petitioning you for stuff. The more you give them the more popular you become, but if you run out of money then they get mad and kick you out of office. Also apparently the town has a popular dogcatcher who is beloved by the citizens (sometimes their requests are along the lines of “more nets for the dogcatcher” and “let’s make a statue of the dogcatcher.” Hey, I didn’t write this, I just copied it out of an Atari magazine somewhere), and after a while an election happens: you v. the dogcatcher. If you’re popular enough, you win! If not, that lousy dogcatcher steals your mayorial seat. ‘Tis a shame.
As an added bonus, at the end of the game, it gives you an option to embezzle everything that’s left in the budget and escape to a remote Caribbean island. It’s the little touch of realism that makes the game extra special. (I honestly don’t remember if my 11-year-old self added that at the end, but I think I did, which is pretty cynical for a kid.)
Menu — This loads the menu. Do I need to mention it?
♥ RSP — A rousing game of Rock, Paper, Scissors (or Rock, Scissors, Paper, as I erroneously call it). It’s really simple and mindless: you play up to ten rounds against the computer (who picks randomly). The only reason I’m giving this a heart is because I put a lot of effort into making it really snarky about it. None of it is particularly hilarious, but it does utilize speech that a 10-year-old in the early 90’s might find hip, and it also makes several references to “I’m playing this game instead of doing my math homework” which was probably actually the truth. I spent most of my time writing like a dozen different responses each for winning or losing a round.
Music — This plays some random 4-part tune that is flat (I even said so in the text that accompanies the actual program). Then it plays “Shave and a Haircut” because why not.
MoveIt — A giant pixel moves across the screen. Yay.
ScrollT — Billed as “A Game by Jeff”, though that’s a bit of a misnomer, this is kind of a cool program that at first just appears to draw a line on the screen, but if you move the joystick down, it scrolls up and reads whatever’s in the memory at the time, interpreting it as graphics. Since apparently Atari doesn’t clear its RAM even after you unload a program, it’s possible that graphics from a previously loaded program may show up, possibly garbled, or it might just look like a random scrambled mess.
DemoT — A demo of Graphics Modes 9-11 on the Atari 800XL GTIA Chip. Mode 9 can display only one hue but at sixteen luminances, Mode 11 can display sixteen hues but only one luminance, and Mode 10 can do a mix but can only do 9 colors at a time. That’s pretty much it. Sounds boring, but it actually helps explain why a lot of Atari graphic designers made the choices they did, knowing the framework they had to work with. (Modes 3-8, for those who are wondering, were made for the earlier, more primitive CTIA chip, have much bigger pixel sizes, and the color choices are limited to four. And modes 0-2 are text only.)
ZigZag — This program verrrry slooooooowly draws a zigzag pattern. Then it moves across the screen. It’s kind of hypnotic. Almost like a lava lamp. What’s that, zigzag? Really? You want me to do what? But where will I hide the bodies?
Sinewave — It draws a sinewave. And thanks to that “DemoT” program, I can now tell you that it was drawn in Mode 9. I feel like I’ve (re-)learned something today.
Pop — This shows an image of a delicious-looking rainbow popsicle. Mode 11, b@%$es!
ModeT — Shows off graphics modes 1-3. Modes one and two are different text sizes, where the pixel size for mode 3 is gigantic. So there’s that.
BoxedIn — It draws a box (in Mode 3, no less!) and then it flashes different colors. A caption reads, “An Interesting Box.” Boy howdy, is it interesting. I could stare at it all day. I have probably never been more interested in any other type of box than I was with this box. It’s that interesting. It’s more interesting than the Dos Equis guy, and even that Old Spice guy on a horse. Lives have been changed — nay– the WORLD has changed, all because of this, the most interesting of all boxes.
ColorDrw — Like “MusicDrw” but without music. You can also choose a color from 1 to 3, and to show how obviously this was copied out of the manual, it literally says, “refer to the manual for color numbers” despite not saying which manual to refer to. It is a mystery lost to the ages.
CavernT — I’m not sure what this is supposed to do. It says it’ll take 45 seconds to initialize and then gives out an error message (said error happens because it tries to call a subroutine that doesn’t exist). Well, whatever. It may have been a program that I just never finished.
ATASCIIT — This just lists all the ATASCII characters together with their number in the code table. It’s basically this (the “DEC” and “GRA” colums).
HFile — It says, “Sorry, HFile died” when you try to load it. I don’t remember what this was supposed to be either.
Poke — This uses the “Poke” command (a common command used in Atari programming to directly change stuff stored in RAM) to mess up your keyboard, and then laughs at you as you try to type something but nothing you type corresponds to the letters that actually show up on the screen. Ha ha!
Marquee — Displays this:
**************** * * * * * THE SHOW OF * * FAME * * * ****************
The asterisks then alternate red and blue. I don’t know if this is quite as interesting as the “interesting box”, but it probably comes close.
Weird — This shows off a “weird and unusual trick” which amounts to flipping all the text on the screen upside down for a moment. Pretty weird.
♥ Number — This is the “guess the number between X and Y” program that I’m pretty sure every programming student ever has written at least one iteration of. I put a heart here mainly because it does give a few varied responses instead of the standard “too high” or “too low”, and for some reason, after you guess it, the computer suddenly goes into a British accent (e.g. “I say, you guessed the number! Good show! Good show!”). That part was most definitely not copied out of a manual.
Warning — This is a demo of graphics mode 1 (which is a text mode), disguised as this weird warning that the computer will beat you up if you stick around. I dunno. A 10-year-old nerd can’t really write a threatening message.
PoemGuys — A direct ripoff of the “Haiku” program from L.E.A.P. disk 4, with a few edits from preteen me (such as using the ridiculously ’90’s phrase “dudical dude”).
Lightnin — Lightning flashes! Thunder crashes! This repeats until you quit.
Flash — Input your name. Then your name flashes like a strobe light with the phrase “is a flashy person” underneath. Yup.
None of these are terribly noteworthy on their own, though I appreciate them for nostalgic reasons, and those who know me might appreciate them for the same reason. And hey, unlike the other L.E.A.P. disks, at least none of these were addition programs. Or nuclear plant diagrams.
In conclusion, I leave you with this life-changing image:
Truly…the most interesting of boxes.
I swapped the site over to letter grades instead of the old number (x/10) ratings I’d previously used. This is mostly because people seem to be more OK with a game being rated, say, B-, instead of 5/10. This also gives me a little more nuance, especially on the lower end of the system (most of the previously 2/10 games now range from C- to D-). Let me know what you think of the new system! And check out the ratings page for a little more in-depth explanation.
The dangerous scenario: a bird hates a building! It also craps fire! You climb a ladder that also somehow moves horizontally, like those ladders-on-wheels in old libraries in kids’ movies, spraying water on the fire to put it out. If you’re not quick enough, a section of the building burns out and some poor soul falls to his death, unless you can grab him and take him to the top of the ladder, where a helicopter frequently flies by and takes them to safety, perhaps in a secret mountain base on the other side of a volcano. Perhaps it would make more sense to bring the jumper to the ground instead of a helicopter that can only carry one guy at a time, but whatever, firefighter guy, I’m sure you know what you’re doing. If two columns of the building completely burn down, or you get smacked on the head by several people falling to their deaths, then it’s game over, but if neither of those things happen, then the game doesn’t end. There are no levels, no bonuses, just a bird that gradually speeds up and a score that keeps goin’.
Most people, however, probably won’t get that far, as the game takes forever to get remotely challenging, so for the first ten minutes you’re putting out fires that the bird drops once every five seconds or so (which doesn’t sound like a lot, but it’s an eternity of sitting on that stupid ladder waiting around). Once the difficulty level ramps up a bit it gets a little more interesting, but the gameplay is fairly monotonous regardless of how fast the bird is flying or the fires are burning. I’d play it for ten seconds, say, “Yep, I played that game, all right,” and move on.
Here’s a “fun” fact: according to the instruction “manual” (which is probably about as long as this review), the firefighter’s name is Piggo. The first line reads, “As if our fearless hero, PIGGO, the firefighter, didn’t have troubles enough. . .” This paints a very sad picture, at least in my mind, of this poor firefighter, who wakes up one morning to an empty bed and a note saying his wife left him and took the kids, and then he tries to get to work but the car is busted so he has to take his daughter’s bike (the one with the pink tassels) to the station, and on the way he’s splashed with mud by several cars driving past, one of which also throws an empty beer can at his head, shouting about all these “fat *$%#ing tubs of lard hogging the $^%#ing right lane on their stupid $&#ing bikes.” When he gets to the fire station, the chief notifies him that he’s being laid off the next day because someone stole their truck and they have to make cutbacks in order to afford a new one, but for today he gets to use the mobile ladder on wheels with the hose tied to it. Just then he looks out the window and notices that a giant firebird is burning down the city. “Aw, geez, a &^%$ing firebird, too? After the day I’ve been having?!? COME ON, YOU &#^%ING FIREBIRD, SHOW ME WHAT YOU’VE GOT!!!!” Soon he gets beaned by a jumping tenant and falls off the ladder to his death.
From the same company that brought you the pathos-filled Firebird comes this “exciting” game! The manual lays out this detailed backstory about how some galactic organization has passed a trade embargo causing the citizens of Zorbulon VI or whatever to suffer and who will be brave enough to violate sacred trade agreements blah blah blah The Phantom Menace blah blah blah whatever I’m already bored.
The real story of this game, as made up by my childhood brain twenty-five or more years ago, concerns a wacky interplanetary McDonald’s scheme! Green Happy Meals, brown hamburgers, and pinkish hot dogs (shut up McDonald’s does hot dogs now) move across a conveyor belt between the Solitare [sic] plant and the SM. Inc. building. Your job is to swipe as much food as possible and stuff it into your giant spaceship to take back to Mars, for as we all know, Martians love them some fast food but there aren’t any franchises there (yet), so this is their only option.
Basically you’re a blue UFO that dodges flying rockets, Frogger style, to pick up some colored shapes in order to stuff them into a giant flying saucer. Once you’ve picked up enough of them, it flies off and you move to the next level (where ECCAMF). Crashing into anything will kill you (you can also crash your cargo into something, which will disintegrate the cargo but leave you intact). There’s also a flying “H” which will take potshots at you that you can destroy, but which takes maybe two-thirds of a second to respawn so it’s usually not worth it except for maybe to get some points. You also have a fuel gauge that I couldn’t figure out how to refill (other than dying or passing a level), so I guess it acts as a level timer? Maybe fuel appears at higher difficulty levels? I never got it to appear.
Embargo is better than Firebird, but that’s not saying a whole lot. I think the main reason I liked this game when I was younger was because of the silly McDonald’s backstory I made up for it. As it stands, it plays pretty well for the first few minutes but can get monotonous pretty quickly. However, it is colorful, well-made, and doesn’t have any obvious glaring flaws, so it’s all OK.
Good Idea: Making a 3D first-person-perspective version of Pacman!
Bad Idea: Doing it with terrible ASCII graphics suitable for ZZT (I’d say that making a ZZT reference shows how old I am, but then again, I am reviewing old Atari games), where the monsters (read: Pacman ghosts) are either slow as dirt or too fast to avoid, where the power pellets, er, “vitamin pills” always wear off too quickly to actually take down a monster, where looking at the map doesn’t pause the game and lets a monster kill you, and where the game doesn’t actually run properly on most Atari configurations, causing it to either never load or get stuck on the title screen in an infinite loop.
That does it for Disk 23. Next up is Disk 24, which is… kind of its own unique thing, so the next normal disk we’ll be looking at is Disk 25, which covers Turmoil, Amphibian, Pinhead, and Vanguard. ‘Til then!
This post is combining five disks, even though it only has three games. This is because I could never get disks 18-21 copied correctly from my actual Atari to my PC, and also I couldn’t remember exactly what was on disks 19 or 20. Disk 19 had some sort of top-down racing game with oil slicks everywhere that I thiiiink was programmed in BASIC, and I can picture it in my head, but for the life of me I can’t remember the name of it. If I ever find it (or if someone reading this knows what it’s called and contacts me) then I will add it to this post. In addition, starting with disk 21, some of the games were repeats from earlier disks, so I am skipping those ones. Disk 21 also had a game that was called “Wizard” on the loading menu, but never worked right, so I have no idea what game it actually was (probably Wizard of Wor though).
With that said, let’s take a look at the games I could pick out of these five disks:
I hate this effing game. Hate it with the passion of a thousand suns. My goodness, do I hate it. It. Gave. Me. Horrible. Nightmares! In Wayout you are stuck in a maze and must find your way out (duh). The maze is your standard 3D first-person maze, though you have full range of movement, unlike most “3D” mazes of the time, which only let you turn 90 degrees. Since the walls all look the same and it’s easy to get lost, you also have a compass and an automap function that help you find your way around. However, these aren’t as useful as you may originally think, due to the only real enemy this maze has. Worse than Nazis, worse than demons from hell or interdimensional aliens or whatever other enemies one may face in more modern FPS’s…
…is the Cleptangle.
This horrible abomination of nature at first seems to be just annoying (and probably for most people playing, it is simply annoying and nothing more). It’s just a spinning, flashing rectangle that roams the maze making a horrible random robotic noise, and if it catches you, it steals your compass (the first time it catches you), and then your ability to automap (the second time). After that you have to go chase it down to get your abilities back, but it can then steal them again, and the cycle never ends. It doesn’t show up on your map, and the only way you know where it is (unless it’s right in front of you) is to hear its horrible alarm slowly get louder and louder and higher and higher, while a white line above your viewport gets longer the closer it gets, until suddenly, with a wrenching, schlluuup sound, you’ve lost all ability to navigate in the maze, and are now doomed to wander the identical, seemingly endless corridors in a futile effort to seek your way out…
Seriously, even replaying this stupid game to do this review game me PTSD flashbacks to when I played it when I was, like, three. This was my boogeyman, my monster under the bed, this spinning rectangle from the foulest depths of the abyss. You couldn’t do anything about it. You couldn’t shoot it. You couldn’t hide from it. You couldn’t run away from it for long. The only thing you could do was chase it through the endless hallways to get your stuff back, hoping you didn’t get irredeemably lost in the meantime. It didn’t help the creepy factor that, aside from the Cleptangle, the exit, and the sound you made as you slid around the maze, the game was completely silent.
If you are able to make it past that obstacle (and, to be honest, most people playing this above the age of three probably weren’t bothered by it), you still have to find the exit, which is harder than it seems, considering it’s at a random place in the maze (not always on the outside), and it also makes a horrible sound when you draw near. To complicate matters, there is also a wind that blows in a constant direction in every maze, which can sometimes block your movement (the intro maze in particular has the exit six feet in front of the entrance, but you have to loop around the whole maze due to the wind tunnel between the two points) and is represented by little yellow flecks blowing about at all times.
Wayout was a technical marvel of the time, with its ability to do true 3D movement (unlike, say, Ball Blazer, which was still limited to 90 degree turning), but other than that, it’s mostly just a simple “get out of this maze” game. The game does track your steps made and saves the high score to the disk, so there’s at least some replay value (since there are 26 mazes that never change). If you want to get a three-year-old to never sleep again then show this game to him; otherwise, there are more interesting maze games out there.
Something fun about doing these reviews is going back and playing games I haven’t played for years even though they form a big part of my childhood, and discovering all-new things about them I never knew because, as a kid, I wasn’t good enough of a player to find them out. Such was the case when I replayed Blue Max here, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Blue Max puts you in the oversized aviator goggles, leather jacket, and awesome scarf of a British WWI pilot (the game tells you you’re British by blaring “Rule, Britannia!” at you the instant the game finishes loading) flying deep into enemy territory to perform bombing and strafing runs. At first I thought the pilot’s name was Max, or that Blue Max was some sort of title or nickname (similar to “Red Baron”), but no, apparently it’s the name of a medal that you’re trying to win. Kind of like if Call of Duty was actually named Congressional Medal of Honor, or Star Wars was named That Thing That Princess Leia Puts On Everyone’s Neck Except For Chewie’s ‘Cause Screw Him.
You fly over two basic terrain types: a river and its banks, and a street and its, uh, stuff on the sides of the street. The game autoscrolls isometrically, with your movement confined to left-right and up-down (handily, the game lets you decide between normal and inverted controls for that extra bit of aircraft realism), where shooting is accomplished with the trigger, and bombing with the trigger and pulling down. The best way to rack up points, though, is to fly close enough to the ground to just strafe everything in sight (too far down, though, and you end up crashing into buildings and trees). AA guns, boats, and enemy aircraft are firing at you, and if you’re hit your bombs, guns, fuel, or maneuverability are compromised one by one, and if you’re hit when all four of these have been damaged you simply blow up (dying is also accomplished by ramming headfirst into an enemy plane or crashing into the ground due to not paying attention). Damage can be repaired and your fuel can be topped off at a runway that shows up every so often (make sure you press the trigger to lower your landing gear; otherwise, you’ll just kamikaze right into the runway, which would probably be a pretty embarrassing way to go). Nobody explains why there are friendly runways all over the place in enemy territory, but at least it’s a flying game where refueling doesn’t consist of shooting a fuel tanker, unlike pretty much every other game with fuel I’ve reviewed so far.
When I was young I was never good enough to get terribly far in this game, but replaying it recently revealed that there’s actually a third section beyond the river and street portions: an actual city with gigantic buildings. Three obvious colored bombing targets are scattered about in this city, and bombing them all and landing on the next runway causes the game to actually…
wait for it…
END! That’s right, this game has an ending! No “everything changes color and moves faster” for this WWI sim, no sir! True, the ending is just a score ranking and another rendition of “Rule, Britannia!” but that’s more than we usually got from these old Atari games! Well done, Synapse! I can forgive you for Slime and Nautilus now!
Even without this plot twist of the plot…actually ending…, Blue Max is a pretty great game. It has been described as a Zaxxon-esque shooter due to its isometric scrolling, but I enjoyed Blue Max way more than I did Zaxxon. The graphics are sharp, clean, and colorful; the controls and gameplay are fun, addictive, and challenging without ever being frustrating; even the sound effects have the perfect level of bite to them. If Blue Max isn’t the best autoscrolling shooter for the Atari 8-bit lineup, it’s right near the top of the list.
(Disclaimer: I will not be making any references to the Survivor TV show. I’ve never seen an episode, and I don’t really plan to, even just to make jokes about it in a review of an obscure Atari game. I apologize in advance if you were looking forward to some brilliant bon mots in this vein. If it makes you feel any better, I doubt the TV show has made any references to this game or my review of it either. If that changes in the future, I may reconsider my position.)
Survivor stars what appears to be the ship from Asteroids flying around space, targeting and blowing up what I can only assume are space stations, since “irregular 90° shapes covered in guns” doesn’t sound as exciting. There are four stations in all, each protected by its own color-coded cat-food-shaped shielding. Your job is to break through the shields and shoot all of the guns. Said guns also unwisely function as load-bearing apparati, as blowing them all up causes each station to violently self-destruct. Also, on occasion, a red, blue, or green spinning thing (and sometimes two or all three of them) appears on the screen with a wobbly whine and tries to kamikaze into your ship. These don’t directly home in on you, though (’cause that would make them easier to shoot, you see), but instead kind of wobble around drunk in your general direction, as if the aliens in charge of these stations were deliberately trying to rid themselves of the morons in their society by putting them in suicide ships that they clearly can’t fly correctly. Fortunately for you, and unfortunately for these drunken bombers, you shoot out both the front and back of your little ship, so destroying them just takes a bit of careful maneuvering. In addition, they are also destroyed by shots from the guns on their own stations, furthering the theory that nobody liked them anyway.
After destroying every station, the game suddenly dumps you back to the title screen, making you manually have to select a harder difficulty in order for the game to make everything move faster. That’s pretty much it.
Survivor is a decent little game. While the layout is the same every time, the action isn’t half bad, and dodging the homing guys can be challenging. Destroying the stations can get somewhat tedious, though, especially since two of them have some guns in little interior sections that require you to perform a pixel-perfect maneuver to even reach the guns (which immediately shoot you as soon as you get in there anyway), and heaven help you if a kamikaze tries to get you at the same time you’re slowly creeping into one of those spaces. It’s still fun enough for a quick diversion.
That does it for this wide spread of Disks 18-22, barring somebody telling me what that racing game on disk 19 is called. Next up we narrow our focus back to a single disk, with Disk 23 covering Firebird, Embargo, and Monster Maze. Until then!
Clowns & Balloons
Have you ever been playing a game of Breakout and thought to yourself, “You know what this game needs? More clowns!” Well, boy howdy, have we got a game for you!
Clowns & Balloons is exactly what it claims to be: a game with clowns and balloons. You control two guys holding a trampoline running around underneath a clown (or possibly trapeze artist; I don’t think it’s the clowns who do the death-defying physical stunts at the circus) who bounces up in the air, popping balloons in a series of three lines that scroll past the upper half of the screen. Adding a bit of flavor (read: frustration) to the game is the fact that you have to pop the lines in order; if you pop all the balloons in the middle or upper lines before you’ve finished the lower one, then that line simply replenishes itself, forcing you to pop it again before moving on. Every time you finish a line, a short ragtime riff plays, and when you finish an entire level, a monkey does this:
Which is adorable. Also, ECCAMF.
While this is basically just a goofy version of Breakout, it’s still pretty fun. The clown can move really fast at times (sometimes too fast for you to actually keep up), so it can get frustrating at higher difficulty levels, but the goofy music that plays when your poor clown plows headfirst into the cold, unforgiving ground pretty much makes up for it. Play it today, and pop some balloons/kill some clowns in style!
Have you ever owned a Nokia phone? Did you have a computer any time before 1995? If so, you’ve already played this game, so what do you need me for? Snake Byte is a version of that classic snake game where you’re a short snake who grows in length every time you eat something (in this case, “apples”) but can’t run into the wall or your own tail lest you smash your head and end the game. In this version there are several levels with different wall layouts, and you have the option of between 0-2 “plums” flying about the level, which also can smash into your head and kill you. Why can a snake eat apples but not plums? Don’t snakes actually eat, like, rats or something? Also, there is a time limit in which you need to eat a certain number of apples in order to advance to the next stage, after which the required number jumps up (but so do the number of apples strewn about). So that’s a thing.
This is a decent version of the simple snake game, but there’s nothing exactly groundbreaking here about it, especially since you can probably play this game on, like, 1st-generation Zunes or something. Are those even still a thing? I dunno.
Have you ever had the experience where, in a game of Wii Boxing, a small relative of yours, perhaps a 4-year-old girl, flailed around with the Wiimote randomly and still totally took you down? Did you think to yourself, “Boy, I’d sure like to put that little girl in her place with a boxing game from more than thirty years ago!” What? You didn’t? Well, you probably won’t be interested in hearing about Knockout! from the creatively titled “Microcomputer Games, Inc.” You wouldn’t want to hear about its straightforward gameplay where two boxers can only either punch high, middle, and low, or block high, middle, and low. You couldn’t care less about the fact that these boxers seem to only be made of muscle and embarrassingly short shorts since the graphics are terrible (also the game is almost entirely silent apart from the opening bell and barely audible punching sounds). And you certainly wouldn’t want to know that, despite it being likely the most generic boxing game ever created, there is still more strategy and skill involved here than in Wii Sports. You’d probably want to take the loser’s way out by “sparing her feelings” or “letting her feel good about herself.” Well, guess what, Mr. or Ms. Coward? Quitters never win! (Also, she’d probably beat you in this game too.)
That does it for Disk 17. For the next post, I will be combining a few disks together, since we’re nearing the end of these disks and I’m cutting out some repeats. Next up, Disks 18-22, featuring Wayout, Blue Max, and Survivor. Until then!
A “Baja Bug”, according to Wikipedia, is an old Volkswagen Beetle modified to go off-road, presumably to compete in races across sand dunes and whatnot. In this game you are driving one of these crazy vehicles through some sort of desert race course, trying to get first place out of the eighty(!) racers you are competing against. Fortunately, you’ve evidently souped up your old bug with illegal mods and some nitro boosters, as you can hit speeds of about eighty miles per hour while all other racers can’t make it past forty. Unfortunately, this means that you’ll be bashing headlong into the racers ahead of you frequently if you don’t brake well, and while this doesn’t make you crash, it does bump your speed immediately down to 20 and it takes a few seconds to accelerate back up to full speed. Hilariously, though, if you pass a racer and then bump into the one ahead, sometimes the one behind bumps back into you, causing you to suddenly jump back up to 60 MPH or so, a tactic I wish could be used whenever somebody’s going slow in the left lane on the freeway.
The course itself is mostly just yellow lines that scroll past you and occasionally curve, much like PitStop. There are two courses (well, three if you count the one marked “R”), though the only difference between them is where the road curves, but since there’s no map or real 3D perspective it’s kind of a moot point unless you memorize the courses or something. The only clue you have to where you are in the race is the indicator on the bottom right of the screen, which not only gives you your current placement in the race (“61″ in the screenshot), but shows how close you (the red dot) are to the first place bug (the white line).
Baja Bug is all right. It’s not really that bad of a racing game, but there’s nothing really unique or special about it to differentiate it from other similar racing games other than maybe the type of vehicle you’re driving. But since that has no real effect on the race (oddly if you go outside the lines of the race you slow down dramatically, even though Baja Bugs are specifically off-road vehicles) and the graphics are too crude to really tell what kind of car you’re in anyway, there’s not that much to recommend. It is what it is.
You’re a kid! On a grid! It’s Kid Grid!
Oh, you want more of a description? But that says it all!
Fine, fine. Kid Grid stars you as a kid, maybe(?) with giant glasses who navigates a grid, turning dotted lines into solid ones and making boxes. Pursuing you on this juvenile lattice are four of the most sinister and evil enemies you will ever encounter. There’s Old Gray Googley-Eyes, the Dancing Purple Two-Headed Twinkle-Toes, Indifferent Turquoise Man, and the Red Orb of Spinny-Bladed Doom! All of these enemies behave in basically the same way, which is traveling along the grid trying to kill you. You get a certain number of stuns, however (the default is five), which will stun all the enemies at once for about half a second, letting you through if you get cornered, so that’s nice. Also, a question mark pops up and moves about randomly on the playing field, and if you box it up you get bonus points. If you finish a level, ECCAMF.
That’s Kid Grid. It’s like if Pac-man had an incredibly boring maze design. That notwithstanding, it’s still a somewhat entertaining timewaster. Also, the title screen plays Brahms’s Hungarian Dance No. 5, for you classical-music-on-the-Atari enthusiasts.
Our good friends at Synapse Software, makers of such strange games as Drelbs, Pharaoh’s Curse, Nautilus, Slime, and Claim Jumper, have yet another creative spin on a few old classics, in this case Defender and Choplifter. In Protector II (which is basically just a graphics update and level redesign of the original Protector), you play as a jet fighter plane attempting to save some hapless citizens from an invincible UFO who likes to pick them up and drop them in a volcano for kicks. You start with eighteen people who are scattered about a small cityscape (consisting of about four building ripped straight from Nautilus, sans underwater skyscraper people) and have to carry as many as possible to another city on the other side of the volcano where the UFO can’t go because, I dunno, it smells bad over there or something. You can’t actually kill this UFO, though shooting it stuns it for a bit, giving you enough time to grab as many citizens as you can before they’re all kidnapped. The fewer people that remain, however, the faster the UFO goes, to the point where he’s speeding along faster than you and only stays stunned for maybe half a second, requiring you to have insane reflexes to save everyone. Oh, well, I’m sure he only sacrificed Steve from H.R. to the volcano gods. Nobody liked Steve anyway.
When all of the citizens have been either rescued or immolated, the UFO gets really pissed and flies off, but not before inducing those wacky volcano gods to erupt and bury the new town. Now you’ve got to transfer everybody back out of the city you just put them in into a secret underground bunker before the lava creeps over from the volcano to bury everyone in molten rock and ash. I mean, didn’t we just do this? The other twist now in this back half of the game is the gamut of laser beams that you must now dodge to reach the underground base (you can destroy the guns shooting the lasers, but it’s not an easy task). So it’s different. Why didn’t we just fly everyone to the underground bunker in the first place? Because there was a force field over it that inexplicably got removed when the volcano blew up, of course! Duh!
Throughout both halves of the game there are some Defender-esque enemies pursuing you, including rotating obstacles called “pulse trackers”, turrets that are only destructible about half of the time, and flying chomper heads. They don’t actually eat anything; they’re just disembodied heads with chomping teeth, just floating around, doing their thing. In addition, the volcano likes to erupt and spew a cloud of ash into the air at random intervals which it seems to like to do just as you’re flying over it. There’s also a fuel element to the game (you must fly back to your starting station to refuel), as well as a slight pull of gravity, which you may notice the first time you play the game and immediately crash into the ground upon takeoff.
Protector II is a decent little game. While it obviously has elements lifted from Defender and Choplifter, it also has enough unique twists on those formulae to give it its own identity. The gameplay is solid, difficult without being too frustrating, and the replayability factor is fairly high, as you want to save as many people from that darned UFO as you possibly can. Also, the title screen plays C.P.E. Bach’s Solfeggietto No.2 in C minor, for you classical-music-on-the-Atari enthusiasts.
Thus ends disk 16. Next up: disk 17, containing Clowns & Balloons, Snake Byte, and Knockout!. Until then!
This game answers that age-old question that mankind has been puzzling over for decades now: What would happen if somebody combined the book of Exodus with Q*Bert? What kind of treasure troves of inspiration, information, and wonder would one behold if such a cosmic event truly were to occur? Perhaps the entire Judeo-Christian-Islam belief system would be radically altered, creating a new faith, one simply titled “@!#?@!”.
Or, alternatively, someone would make a pretty good Q*Bert clone.
In this game you are playing as a slave named “Little Achmed” building a pyramid for a pharaoh (hence the title). You do this by jumping around on a pyramid, filling in each tile with a color until the entire pyramid has been filled, while a snake and some other creatures/obstacles pursue you, just like Q*Bert. Unlike Q*Bert, however, the enemies have biblical ties, such as the snake being Moses’ snake, and other obstacles being named after the ten plagues of Egypt (frogs, locusts, flies, fire & hail, and even the Angel of Death, who, despite his ominous name, acts pretty much just like the frogs and locusts and stuff). In addition, you are also building a second pyramid at the top of the screen, which is done by collecting bricks laid out at the bottom of the first pyramid (along the river Nile, I guess) and bringing them to the top. Constructing this pyramid takes six rounds that cycle through the plagues, at which point you proceed to the next level where the spaces on the bottom pyramid now cycle through more than one color when you jump on them. Also, of course, everything changes color and moves faster, but do I even need to say that anymore? Isn’t there an acronym I can use?
ECCAMF [eh'kamf]: Everything Changes Color And Moves Faster (otherwise known as what happens at the end of every video game made before 1985).
Also, apparently, there is a love story/triangle/something going on between Little Achmed and the Egyptian deities Isis and Osiris, as between every level a cutscene depicts Achmed and Isis with a heart between them, only for Osiris to steal Isis away while sad music plays. You know, assuming Isis looks like the outline of a diamond (which admittedly morphs into some sort of Egyptian princess or something), and Osiris is actually a cross between an alien and a pancake. Hey, they’re deities; I suppose they can manifest themselves however they want. Osiris sometimes also shows up in the main game to screw up the spaces that you’ve been trying to get changed to the right color, so he’s kind of a jerk. I’m also not entirely sure how both Egyptian deities and Old Testament plagues can co-exist peacefully, so as a distraction from that conundrum I will mention that there’s also a crocodile in this game.
Pharaoh’s Pyramid does exactly what a good clone should: it preserves the core gameplay that made the original game fun, while adding enough distinctions that give it its own identity. The plagues are an odd, but interesting tweak to the enemies from Q*Bert, while the act of building the second pyramid add a unique twist to make it more fun. All in all, a solid game.
Mr. Robot and his Robot Factory
Mr. Robot and his Robot Factory plays as an alternate-universe version of Miner 2049er where OSHA still existed and mankind gave its dangerous, you-must-walk-across-all-the-floors-of-a-place-where-everything-is-trying-to-kill-you jobs to unfeeling, expendable robots. You are the eponymous Mr. Robot who has been placed inside your rainbow-colored robot factory (which, despite the name, neither produces robots nor is much of a factory beyond having some conveyor belts in it) in order to walk across all the floors, eliminating white dots as you go. Much like Miner 2049er, if you fall too far you are immediately killed, though sadly in this game there’s no hilarious squashed-inside-your-hat animation.
Your main antagonists are angry fires!
As levels progress more obstacles are added, such as conveyor belts, elevators, teleporters, magnets that allow you to make large leaps, trampolines that not only bounce you but allow you a safe landing from heights, and, somehow, classically-shaped bombs (you know the type: the round ball with the fuse coming out one end) that serve as explodey platforms. You also make an annoying “beep-boop” sound with every step you take, but fortunately you can turn off the sound effects in the first level by collecting a music note which not only kills that horrible walking noise, but is worth 50 points, to boot!
There are 22 levels in all, though the difficulty ramps up fairly quickly toward the beginning and I’ve never beaten the game without savestates. This is mostly due to the unforgiving controls. Many jumps have to be precision jumps, as often the difference between death and a safe jump is merely a pixel off, and sometimes jumping to a platform below you won’t kill you while just falling to it will. Many levels have only one path through them that isn’t immediately apparent, forcing you to analyze and plan out the whole thing, or waste a few lives doing it wrong until you see what you need to do. The worst levels in this regard are the ones made up almost entirely out of bombs, because if you make a single mistake, well, the platform blows up and you’re totally screwed. Did I also mention that it’s really hard to plan out later levels due to the time limit that only gives you 99 seconds, and that you only start with four lives (though you can get more as your score goes up, and there are some extra lives in a few levels, but not many), and that sometimes you have to act immediately upon entering a level, lest a fire burn you up, or a bomb blow up under you, or some sort of conveyor belt leads you to your doom? Yeah, life for Mr. Robot is not an easy one.
Even with all these challenges, though, the game is still fairly fun. Helping buoy it up a bit is the inclusion of a level editor a la Lode Runner, which is where I spent most of my time just fooling around making Mr. Robot bounce around on trampolines or blow up a lot, though you can create legitimate levels too if that’s your thing.
Rating: B+ (mostly for the inclusion of the level editor, otherwise it’s closer a B-)
Starion. The game that the Internet forgot. In this game you are a flying saucer of some sort, cruising through a space fort for some reason, in order to accomplish some purpose. The game autoscrolls, much like Caverns of Mars and its sequel, but unlike Caverns of Mars you can actually speed up and even move in reverse (though you can never stay still). Your way is blocked by various laser beams, asteroids, and other obstacles too crude to figure out what they are. Also, in time-honored Atari tradition, shooting a fuel tank refills your fuel gauge, which still makes no sense but whatever.
Here’s the problem with this game. After you make some progress into the game you come across a cavern filled with people that you should be able to somehow rescue, a la Choplifter!. The game even makes your trigger send out some sort of beaming device downward toward the people, instead of shooting your gun. However, it is impossible to beam anyone up. You can sit there, hovering over someone with that trigger pressed until your fuel runs out, trying desperately to save this person from whatever horrors can be visited upon a man standing in space somewhere waving his arms while remaining stationary, but you will never be able to rescue him. Ever. This also means that the “castaway” bar at the top will never diminish, and the game becomes somewhat pointless.
I figured I was missing something. So I went online to try to find out what I was missing. What stupid button or keystroke did I have to press in order to get these jerks to get on my spaceship? Unfortunately, it was ultimately a futile task. The only mentions of this game on the Internet at all were on sites like Atarimania, which consisted of a ROM dump and a few screenshots (and no manual). So I still have no idea how to progress in this game, other than flying forward and leaving all those castaways to wave in perpetuity, until either death or the end of time.
Some of the level design was creative, but in the end I was so frustrated by this game’s flaws that it really wasn’t worth it.
That’s it for this side of the disk. Next time: side 2, featuring Baja Bug, Kid Grid, and Protector II. See you then!
Anyone expecting this game to represent someone working in their lab late one night when their eyes behold an eerie sight may be somewhat disappointed. However, this game is representative of something that a lot of pre-1983 arcade and home console games excelled at and were most remembered for: simple action that, for some reason, sucked you in for a long time trying to rack up the highest score that you can without ever seeming too repetitive. Your goal is to smash as many monsters as you can (the monsters in this case being either squat, pink garbage can-looking things with antennae and rotating eyes, collections of dots, or occasionally an egg that hatches into a lizard if not smashed). Said monsters run to the right and down through this, uh, graveyard, I suppose (it is a graveyard smash!) Your only controls are rotating one corner of the fence, creating paths that direct the monsters either down or across, and smashing all the gravestone/flipper/smashy things at the same time! You get points for every monster you smash, but if you let more than a certain amount escape, it’s game over! Each wave makes more monsters appear, and each level makes them go faster.
It’s a simple hand-eye coordination/reflex game, but it’s a lot of fun, too. If it had better graphics it’d be a top seller on iPhones, iPads, and Android devices today (though I hope the theme song would stay the same, as it’s pretty goofy on its own).
Here’s some trivia for you: A Google search for “Stargate Courier” brings up three things in order: the Tok’ra couriers from a Stargate: SG-1 RPG supplemental book, the classified business ads from Abu Dhabi, and finally, this game. In other words, this game was obscure enough to be beaten by both a little-known entry in a supplemental RPG book and ads from halfway around the world (at least from where I’m writing this). So, this game, famous? Nope!
What it is is a weird mesh of several different games/sci-fi franchises. Your job is mainly to fly around space and shoot twelve enemy ships that look like giant 80’s hoop earrings that mostly just suck your fuel away if they get near you (although they may shoot at you too). If you run low on fuel then you have to fly back to Earth (wait, this is taking place in the solar system? Why all the densely-packed stars, then?) where, in true shoot-em-up fashion, you’ve gotta shoot some fuel tanks to refill your supply. The Earth segments are hazardous, though, as not only are there turrets that take potshots at you, but also the occasional angry Sphinx (which I suppose is somehow tied to Stargate, but since this game came out at least a decade before the movie I suppose it’s a moot point). Also, for some reason, the Millennium Falcon is flying around and gives you 1000 points if you shoot it. So there’s that.
All this weirdness could be forgiven if the game was any good. Sadly, it’s a mess. The graphics are uninspiring, the sound is fairly stock, the controls are broken in the outer-space portion of the game (you move forward at a set speed and one push on the joystick sends you spinning at an insanely high rate), and, while the Earth segments have much better controls, they’re also pretty boring, as you’re stuck in an endless loop of fuel tanks, turrets, and Sphinxes, until you decide to lift off into space again. About the only thing it’s got going for it is a half-way decent heroic jingle that plays when you start the game, but it’s not worth much. There are better shoot-‘em-ups out there, and if you want a good Stargate Courier experience, stick to playing the Stargate RPG or maybe starting your own business in the United Arab Emirates.
That’s it for Side 2 of Disk 15. Coming up next: Pharoah’s Pyramid, Mr. Robot and his Robot Factory, and Starion.
Note: this post has been superseded by a new rating system. For more information, check the ratings page.
So I’ve gone back and added scores out of ten to each game I’ve done a text review for so far (excluding the L.E.A.P. disks) and I will continue to do so for the rest I plan on reviewing. However, I’d like to explain a little about what the numbers actually mean.
First of all, the score is an overall score of how much I would recommend this game to someone who has never played it before. This doesn’t necessarily mean it was or wasn’t a groundbreaking or famous game, or that its graphics/sound/music/etc. were great/crap, but that the overall experience was good enough that I hope you’ll check it out, or bad enough that I’d say “don’t bother.” Also, I’m grading on a true ten-point scale, which means that 5 is average, not bad; and that 7 is pretty good, not just average. Or, in other words:
- Don’t bother. This game sucks and you suck if you like it.
- Not really recommended for anyone.
- I didn’t like it much, but you may.
- Eh, it’s OK. Play it if you’re bored.
- This game is average. I’d play it every so often, but I probably wouldn’t seek it out.
- Above average. This game probably made it into my regular Atari-playing rotation.
- Very good. You will most likely enjoy this quite a bit.
- Excellent! A top tier game.
- Games that make it here are the cream of the crop. If you haven’t played this game yet, stop reading and go get it!
- So far I have only given out two 10’s. Both of them are games I still play today, even though my main Atari-playing days are behind me. Everything — the graphics, sound, music, controls, gameplay, replayability factor — all comes together perfectly, resulting in nothing less than the most stellar game it could possibly be. (As a side note: if I were to review M.U.L.E., it would also receive a 10.) (Also as a side note: one of the two games I gave a 10 to I readily admit I am heavily influenced by nostalgia and you may disagree with my rating. The other one, though, I think most people should agree with.)
These are all subjective, of course, and you’re welcome to disagree with any of them. Also, keep in mind that these scores are specifically for the Atari 8-bit versions of these games. If you’re mad that I gave a low score to, say, Pacman, keep in mind that it’s just because this specific version wasn’t all that great. There may be better versions out there for different systems.
I don’t think anyone who has ever owned a cell phone in the last four years hasn’t played Breakout, or some version of it. Its most basic form is very simple: you control a paddle at the bottom of the screen, and a ball bounces around that you have to reflect back into bricks that cover the upper portion of the screen. Once the bricks are gone, you move to the next level, where the ball moves faster and sometimes the bricks have been rearranged. I imagine this game was invented when some lonely programmer was sick of playing Pong by himself and decided that, instead of becoming some sort of hand-eye coordination superman that could control a paddle in each hand simultaneously, he’d just close off one end, add some bricks, and call it a night. There, now he doesn’t have to make any friends to play video games! Problem solved!
In this version, Super Breakout, there are four versions of the game: classic (break eight lines of bricks, then move to the next faster level), double (where you control two parallel paddles and have two balls bouncing around, shown in the screenshot), progressive (which has six lines instead of eight which keep slowly creeping downward on the screen), and cavity (same as classic but two balls are trapped inside the bricks and can be freed). It’s a decent port, especially for the time, but these days you don’t need Atari emulation to play this game. If you own an electronic device, chances are you’ve already got a version of Breakout somewhere on it. Don’t, like, microwaves come with this game on them now?
OK, I’ll admit, as a kid I never really played this game. First of all, the disk it came on only worked sporadically. Secondly, without the instructions I just flew around in one quadrant of space with nothing to do but shoot into nothingness because I didn’t know the controls. It wasn’t until recently that I finally was able to look the controls up online and actually play this classic game correctly. So no nostalgia filter here for me!
With that said, it’s easy to see the influence this early space fighter had on numerous games that came after it, such as Space Battle for the Intellivision, numerous early Star Trek games, The Last Starfighter (which then got retconned into Star Raiders II), and even parts of Ultima I. You flew a Star Cruiser ship, trying to protect the galaxy from the evil Zylon empire (I said Zylon, not Cylon! It’s an original creation, like Ricky Rouse or Monald Muck!). You accomplish this by first looking at a map of the galaxy (an extremely small galaxy), divided into sectors, each showing an icon if there are friendly starbases or enemy ships in them. If all the sectors surrounding a base get filled with enemy fleets, then it’s KABOOM! to that starbase if you don’t save it within a minute! To do so, you must hyperwarp to whatever sector the enemy ships are in and blow ‘em all up. Sounds pretty simple, right? Well, it is, but the beauty is in the execution (haha, little homicide humor there).
To begin with, warping to another sector is somewhat of a game in and of itself. Once you engage the warp drive, a little crosshair appears in the middle of your screen and starts moving about erratically (the farther away your destination the more erratically it moves). You’ve got to keep it in the middle of the screen once hyperspace finally kicks in (about five seconds or so after you engage the engine), lest you end up somewhere completely different in the galaxy. You know, in case you ever wanted to relive that moment from the Apollo 13 mission where they only had enough juice to fire the engines for a few seconds and had to keep the ship pointing at Earth lest they drift off into the cold, hard vacuum of space and freeze to death. You know, fun!
Once you make it to a sector with some baddies you basically just shoot at them until they explode. This is easier said than done, however, as you’ve got four different views to keep an eye on and switch between: the normal front view, an aft view, the computer targeting view in the corner of the screen, and a long-range third-person view. Also, make sure your shields are up or you’ll just die the instant you get hit by anything. In addition to losing energy every time you get shot at, each enemy shot can also damage one of your systems, rendering it either inoperable or only partially working (for example, the long-range scan suddenly starts showing ghost images). Also, if they damage your shields then you’d best get the hell outta Dodge before they get another shot in, or you’re toast. To replenish your energy and fix your systems, warp to a friendly starbase and dock for a few seconds, and you’re good to go.
Star Raiders surprised me. I had heard of its good reputation, but I’d never really sat down to play it until recently, and it was a lot better than I had expected, especially since it came out in 1979 and the graphics are pretty much crap. The controls are fairly intuitive, yet complicated enough to not just be a shoot ‘em up. You’ve got to be strategic about how and when you engage the enemy, when to disengage if the battle is going poorly, and when to visit a starbase vs. engaging more enemy fighters. While some of the controls are a little redundant (I mean come on, did anyone ever turn off the targeting system?), the breakneck action is difficult to master, but a lot of fun, too. Definitely recommended.
I don’t think anyone who has ever owned a cell phone in the last four years hasn’t played Asteroids, or some version of it. Its most basic form is very simple: you control a ship in the middle of the screen surrounded by asteroids, and must shoot them all. Each time you shoot one, it breaks up into smaller asteroids until shooting the smallest sized asteroid makes it disappear completely. I imagine this game was invented when some lonely programmer was sick of playing Spacewar! by himself and decided that, instead of becoming some sort of hand-eye coordination superman that could control a paddle in each hand simultaneously, he’d just get rid of one ship, add some rocks, and call it a night. There, now he doesn’t have to make any friends to play video games! Problem solved!
In this version, creatively titled Asteroids, you can play with up to four players, and either play co-op, competitively, or on teams. It’s a decent port, especially for the time, but these days you don’t need Atari emulation to play this game. If you own an electronic device, chances are you’ve already got a version of Asteroids somewhere on it. Don’t, like, refrigerators come with this game on them now?
Rating: C+ (mostly for multiplayer)
In any case, that does it for side 1 of disk 15. Comin’ up next: the second side, featuring Monster Smash and Stargate Courier. See you then!