Let’s give some respect to a game that knows exactly what it wants to be, even if it just wants to be disgusting.
Here is a list of games that were released in 2010:
- God of War 3
- Red Dead Redemption
- Dead Rising 2
- Bioshock 2
- Dante’s Inferno
- Castlevania: Lords of Shadow
And 2010 was also a year some of these games were noted as champions of storytelling within the medium. Red Dead Redemption is a game that deserves to be held in the same exalted pantheon as its western forbearers. Bioshock 2 wasn’t as revolutionary as the game that (mostly) birthed its franchise, but it was still a somber look at greed and decay. Dead Rising 2 has a lot to say about the current state of the medical industry in the United States. Dante’s Inferno is the retelling of an epic poem that now somehow involves a hell of a lot of dismemberment. Actually, come to think of it, literally every one of these games involves a surprising amount of mutilation. And… was that the point? Were these complicated stories of love, betrayal, and a dude that somehow forgot he was Dracula, yarns that just happened to be attached to bloodbaths? Or was it the reverse? Were these violent videogames (utilizing the latest technology of the day to clearly render when you had successfully ejected an opponent’s spinal column) that also, incidentally, included tales that would rival those of Dante? These were all games that enjoyed varying levels of success, and now, ten years later, it’s impossible to discern the intentions of the writers and directors involved.
Or we know exactly what they were thinking: hyper-violent action games were all the rage in 2010, and your average player would eat up any story that claimed to have influences more cerebral than a Burger King Kid’s Club flyer (… yeah… people in 2010 were dummies, I’m sure gamers got better in the meanwhile). If you had a game that was primarily shotgun-based, but wanted to score a few reviews that somehow still included the word “elegant”, all you had to do was wrap your story around a few heady concepts, and, before you could say “Kafkaesque”, you’ve got a hit on your hands. And, for better or worse, this would happen over and over again for years. A new game is released, it embraces an unhealthy amount of face punching, but also includes a reference to a philosophical concept or two, and it is graded as some manner of genius event for everyone involved. Then the shine rubs off (usually sometime around when the DLC release schedule winds down), and we’re left with a number of people scratching their head, vainly attempting to figure out why the hell there was such a big hubbub in the first place. Bioshock Infinite cured racism? I’m sure I remember that happening once…
But there was one game released in 2010 that knew exactly what it was and what it was about: Splatterhouse.
Splatterhouse is a 3-D, modern reimagining of the original Splatterhouse franchise. All of the old staples are there: a disastrous visit to an old house in the middle of nowhere, a girlfriend kidnapped, and a haunted mask that propels our protagonist to stalk the halls in a very Voorhees manner. There’s a clear goal (rescue girlfriend), obvious monsters (they’re the dudes with asymmetric tentacles), and an excuse or two for a little blood splatter. Old weapons are scattered about the area (who couldn’t use a 2×4) and even the old bosses are represented in straightforward (there cannot be that many dudes with chainsaws for hands) or figurative ways (a haunted room must evolve into a poltergeist colossus). This Splatterhouse is not a “modern remake” that completely eschews the source material in favor of something new and different, it is completely recognizable as Splatterhouse.
But there is technically a new plot hoisted on Splatterhouse. What we have here is something that could have been implied by the original, practically narration-less Splatterhouse, but is now made concrete in 2010. “The Mask” is an ancient prisoner of monsters that slipped out, and is now using its magical/deadly powers for revenge. Your ultimate opponent is a Lovecraftian cadre of formless ones that want to enter this universe and transform it into their personal meat grinder. The majority of your foes are literal monsters stitched together by a vengeful, immortal college professor (that, incidentally, kind of looks like Lovecraft). And poor, traditionally mute Rick is now a conflicted student stuck in the middle. Rick wants to save “his girl”, and he certainly doesn’t want to be dead, but does he need to kill so many ostensibly living creatures in order to meet his goals? Mask is all about the violence, but Rick seems to have objections to the kill count that is rapidly mounting at the end of his fists. Does Rick need to be so violent? Is all this carnage really necessary? Can’t we all just get along?
And the answer is: No, Rick, you dumbass, this is a videogame. You’re here to paint the walls red. Everybody knows what this is, Ricky Boy, don’t fight it.
Splatterhouse may momentarily flirt with a greater calling to make comments on the nature of violence or explore its Cthulhu inspired universe; but, more than that, it is a game that knows exactly what its audience is here for. Like a good 80’s horror film, it assumes the viewers only want two things: blood and tits. To satisfy that bloodlust, practically every enemy can become part of a fatality-esque finisher that offers organs aplenty being splayed about. And if you choose to hold off on those QTEs, all monsters pop like blood ticks, so your Mask’s thirst for the red stuff is always satisfied. And if you’re looking for the other reason for an R (M) rating, Splatterhouse has straight up nudity ready to go from the first level. Jenny is apparently the only human female seen in this universe (granted, technically, there’s only like one 100% human male on screen in this story, and he’s dead before the game starts), and she has been kidnapped, but don’t let that stop you from whipping it out in her honor. Every stage has four fragments of “Jenny’s Pictures” scattered around, and, boy, let me tell you, Jenny was an exhibitionist. The Jenny model is shamelessly used in all sorts of situations, so whether it’s a steamy shower scene or a skimpy Halloween costume that is going to wet your noodle, Splatterhouse has got you covered. Ha! Covered! Totally unlike Jenny!
And is this gross? Absolutely. 90% of the content of the previous paragraph is disgusting. The idea that the player would be “rewarded” with naked pictures of the ostensible heroine of the story is not only narrowly male heteronormative, but also just plain gross. Jenny is not only a damsel in distress, her naked (and thereabouts) pictures are the prime reward for a player exploring these environments. By all accounts, she was created just to be ‘bating bait for the audience, and, plot-wise, all we learn about Jenny is that she likes posing for risqué photographs (on actual film! Is that a character trait?). And once you get past her, the only friendly cast member, the fact that you can only interact with your antagonists through bloodsport isn’t much better. Your opponents are monsters, yes, but it is plainly stated that a number of these “creatures” are humans that have been experimented on and mutated. And how do you deal with these lost souls (some of which are distinctly noted as people Rick once knew)? Your tear their insides out. And when a door is a pulsing eyeball, you tear that out, too! But don’t worry, when a mouth-door is involved, then you have to feed blood to it, so there’s no tearing there. But there’s still violence! In fact, there is nary a single problem in Splatterhouse that can’t be solved by wanton, bloody destruction. And that’s a moral we don’t need! Violence is not the answer, and any “game” that encourages hours of carnage cannot be good for the national psyche.
Except… that’s not any different from every other bloody brawler released in 2010. The only variance here is that Splatterhouse is completely honest about its vices, while its contemporaries tried to hide behind a veneer of respectability.
God of War 3 ended by claiming the entire franchise was about the relationship between an abusive father and his son (that may have murdered his family), but it was also a trilogy that always took time to include topless women and what could best be described as a “sex minigame”. But don’t worry, kiddies, that happened slightly offscreen! This is a respectable game! Castlevania: Lords of Shadow was a “mature” reimagining of Castlevania that incidentally treated its female cast like disposable props. Any women left standing? There’s Carmilla, a former holy warrior whose desecrated earthly remains became a vampire that is going to flirt with her opponent for about 80% of the fight. So a nun that has become corrupted and is now overtly sexual? Gosh, that couldn’t be an extremely well-trodden fetish or anything. This is a mature game. It’s not like Carmilla is wearing something like a nun’s habit split to reveal her breasts or anything. But that’s the way it goes, right? These are sophisticated games, so there might be a little t(its) to accompany your v(iolence). You know, maybe.
Or that’s the entire point, and so many games in 2010 were simultaneously nakedly chasing the heterosexual, 20-something male demographic and attempting to claim a seat at the table of “mature” media like books or movies (because everyone knows those mediums never pander to anybody). Testosterone-fueled escapes for a man’s Id were the norm (ha, were), but you could get away with it if you attached some tragedy to the proceedings. And not, like, horror movie, you-decided-to-take-the-wrong-turn tragedy, either! Pathos! You need the hero to really feel bad about his dead wife (do you want to review the previously mentioned 2010 games and tally up the number of dead wives involved? It is a concerning number!), so that way the “hero” is at least grimacing when he rips the heart out of the malevolent Tig Biddy. Kratos might be involved in an adventure that could incidentally involve a lot of nudity and violence, but he’s doing it for his family (even if they’re dead). This isn’t an adolescent fantasy, it’s a tale of love and redemption. It’s epic.
Splatterhouse is just like its contemporaries, except it doesn’t chase that “epic” banner. Splatterhouse is a game that accepts its audience wants some nudity and violence, and, hey, here you go. You don’t have to analyze it. You don’t have to think about it. You just have to press X to explode-a-head. You can just review a gallery of naked pictures. You can be as horny or ferocious as you want, and Splatterhouse isn’t going to judge. It might be gross, but if it’s your thing, it’s not trying to hide your thing. Splatterhouse seems to believe it knows exactly what its audience wants, and it is going to unashamedly drown everyone in it.
Splatterhouse doesn’t try to be what it is not. Splatterhouse is Splatterhouse, and it should be commended for never apologizing for such.
Stay gross, Splatterhouse.
FGC #542 Splatterhouse (2010)
- System: Playstation 3 and Xbox 360. Splatterhouse is not listed as an Xbox One backwards compatible game, but apparently something called “The Splatters™” is listed, so the search function is working properly.
- Number of players: Just Rick and Mask, working as one player.
Beyond the Gore: Splatterhouse is a pretty typical 3-D action game of the era, but it does have a few tricks up its sleeve. There are some 2-D areas that harken back to the old days, and they’re generally enjoyable (mostly because most of the usually spongey mooks suddenly are all 1-hit kills). There are also a few “jump areas” and “chases” that are predominantly quick time events, and they’re… less fun. It feels like we have gotten away from continual QTEs with our current gaming generation, which almost makes these portions vaguely nostalgic.- Favorite Area: The plot finds an excuse for magical portals to beam Rick outside of the titular Splatterhouse, so there are a few interesting venues available. The “ruined future”, “the past”, and slaughterhouse are all fun locations, but you really can’t beat the “Murder Carnival” that is some kind of pastiche of Disney World, a local fair, and an unruly number of giant entrails. And the hall of mirrors offers an excuse for all kinds of fights for Rick, so just enjoy the ride.
- Are there Murder Clowns? Yep.
- Say something mean: It’s fun being a murderous psychopath, but the final few areas find excuses to add different kinds of timers. Sometimes it is a collapsing bridge, sometimes it’s an “escort mission”, and sometimes there’s just an outright timer on the screen; but regardless of the reason, anytime your seconds are limited in Splatterhouse, it is pretty lousy. “Aiming” is a pain in the ass, and most combos keep going well after your opponent is finished. The result? You’re punching air for seconds on end while your death ticks closer and closer. Losing control isn’t a good thing when you don’t have time to spare.
- Favorite Boss: Experiment 765 is a giant, electric ape with a hammer. He beats ol’ chainsaws-for-hands any day of the week.
Did you know? Whether it was intended as part of the original release or DLC that would never come, there was a lot of cut content in Splatterhouse. There was supposed to be a Nazi ice base (featuring that previously mentioned ape), a “dead island” tropical setting (including a boss that is only seen in a fish tank in the game proper), and even a finale in a collapsing chapel (there is a wedding/human sacrifice happening sometime around then, after all). Splatterhouse was kind of a bomb, so it’s unlikely we’ll ever see what was intended to be “Splatterhouse Complete”, but I have to formally state that any game that includes extra violence against Nazis is a good thing.- Would I play again: Probably not. This is fun in the short term (most of the time), but it’s not really my thing. That said, Berserker Mode is a hoot, and, if I have to play a PS3-era beat ‘em up, this ain’t too bad. I’m not stalking the halls again anytime soon, but I could conceive of a world where I might give it a shot. At least there is a New Game+!
What’s next? Random ROB has chosen… Mario Tennis for the Virtual Boy! Spooky times are over, but we’re still seeing red. Please look forward to it!
The hook for Avenging Spirit is pretty great. Your protagonist is a ghost. That means you can fly around the screen at will, opponents can’t hurt (or presumably even see) you, and you’re free to do whatever. Only caveat? Every moment you’re an unprotected spirit, you are losing health. That’s no good! But there is a solution: you can possess your opponents, and use their bodies however you like. And, let’s be clear here, with the exception of bosses, you can possess absolutely any “monster” stalking these levels. And all of your possible victims are varied and distinct! There are kung-fu ladies with crazy agility but lousy stamina, gangsters loaded to the bear with weaponry, Rambo for some reason, a yogi mystic that can kick and fly (!), and even a few dragon people and robots. You’ve got options upon options! And, since your chosen meat shield is probably going to expire pretty quickly anyway, you’ll be hopping from body to body often throughout the adventure. It’s basically a high-stakes version of 
In 1940, Jerry Siegel, one of the creators of 
Look, you can slap a mobster on the cover of Avenging Spirit. You can even claim that art is relevant, as the spirit is out for vengeance, and he absolutely can possess a criminal wielding a gun. This is technically something that happens in Avenging Spirit. However, the circumstances of it happening is not what is being displayed on that box. That picture is a mobster that is closer to Scarface, a villain mad with power both real and imagined, and firing wildly at any perceived threat that comes his way. That is patently not what happens in Avenging Spirit. If you possess a mobster in Avenging Spirit, you are doing it to stave off an incremental death that is constantly stalking your digital avatar. You have a “real world” powerful weapon, but your gun barely puts a dent in those robots reprising with missiles. You’re the archetypical “bad guy”, but you’re also just plain a bad guy at jumping. There’s nothing empowering about being an avenging spirit. We’ve got a fun game here, but odds are good you’re going to see the continue screen more than a few times across your quest. And you’ll probably miss a few keys, see the bad ending, and watch your hero fade unfulfilled into the afterlife. Meanwhile, The Spectre does not dissipate into some Heaven-based reward. The Spectre friggen’ turns his opponents into helpless candles, and then sticks them on some kid’s birthday cake. The Spectre of DC Comics is a living tommy gun, and he’s got the unlimited bullets of God on his side.
So good try, Jaleco, you correctly identified that Americans would rather see a spirit of vengeance with unlimited power than the friendly ghost that appeared in Japan. The Spectre has been a marginally successful hero for the last 80 years of DC Comics (I’m pretty sure he’s more popular than Animal Man), while Avenging Spirit barely survived long enough to see a 3DS rerelease. Unfortunately, Avenging Spirit did not offer the ghost power-trip that Americans desire, so it is remembered as little more than a meme on these shores. Yes, Americans want guns and mobsters, but, more than that, we want power, and Avenging Spirit is about as powerful as a faint fart.
Port-o-Call: The arcade version is lush and colorful, but it is also a dedicated quarter killer. You can’t even de-possess a dude without throwing yourself into suicide. That said, the Gameboy version plays better and seems to be more balanced for actually finishing the game, but the graphics seem more… abstract. It’s not that they’re bad, it’s just a matter of the arcade version displaying what things are supposed to look like (yes, that is a dinosaur man walking around) fills in more than a few blanks on the Gameboy version.
We live in an age of science and reason. We have knowledge of vaccines, microbes, and the periodic table of elements. But it took us a long time to get to this point. For hundreds of years, our understanding of the universe was much more limited, and our thoughts on how the world worked were based on simple, rudimentary building blocks of the universe. Obviously, I am talking about the four elements of nature: fire, wind, water, and earth.
But who cares about the science of the elements? What has really persisted to this day has been the continual existence of “four elements” in pop culture. What was your first introduction to the elements? Was it 
Wizards and Warrios was a pretty… passable NES title, and W&W2 is… well, I can’t in good conscious say Ironsword is at all a good game. It’s not a bad game, but it was also one of my childhood NES titles (I assume my grandmother was distracted by Fabio on the cover, and bought it for me without a second thought), and, like 
But there is one thing Ironsword gets absolutely right: Malkil is a bastard. Malkil was the ultimate boss and source of Kuros’s misery in the original Wizards and Warriors, but he was blown into non-corporeal bits at the end of that adventure. But you can’t keep a bad wizard down, so Malkil somehow extended his life force to possess the four elements. Now Malkil is an angry cloud in the air, some manner of giant block of ice in a river, sentient lava in a volcano, and a particularly pissed off rock deep in the Earth. These are all huge bosses (particularly by NES standards), and Kuros has to acquire distinct spells just to stand a remote chance against these corrupted elements. And, assuming Kuros can pull that off (possibly with the help of a Game Genie), then the final battle becomes a fight between Kuros and all four of the elements high above a mountaintop. Kuros has obtained the titular Ironsword (fifth element?) at this point, but Malkil is zooming around as four separate elemental ghosts (or… something), so saving the day is locked behind one of the most annoying battles of 1989. If you win, the four animal kings will thank you, but if you lose, you’re in good company, because that final fight is rough.
and if you need evidence of this, there are good odds you literally don’t have to do more than peak your head out your window (“Yes, grandma, I can hear you, but I’m writing an article right now, and the lawyers say I’m not supposed to move that branch until after the settlement. I’ll bring some noodles out to you later, okay?”).
System: Nintendo Entertainment System, and then never again. The Rare Replay passed this warrior by.
Some games are lauded for messages they can’t even properly convey. Take Monopoly, for instance. Monopoly is based on The Landlord’s Game, a board game patented by Elizabeth Magie in 1904. While many have called the game dedicatedly anti-capitalist, this gives the impression that The Landlord’s Game is somehow against our beloved, inescapable world of landlords squeezing tenants for their every last dime. But that’s not true! The Landlord’s Game was meant to promote the single tax theory of Henry George, and presented two sets of rules: one with heavy taxation, and another that was significantly more forgiving of players that happened to own everything. This meant the game mutated into two forms: one that was anti-monopolist, and the other that was referred to as monopolist. The goal of the anti-monopolist version was to be the first to double your starting wealth (which wasn’t that difficult in a game where you weren’t constantly facing bankruptcy due to a bad roll), while the monopolist version valued forcing every other player out until you were the last man with a monocle standing. Guess which version became Monopoly thirty years later…
one holding the deed to Boardwalk, but you’re still going to be elated when you’ve got a railroad or four, and some unsuspecting rube lands on your assets. If Monopoly (or its ancestor) was supposed to ever be educational regarding taxation or economic theory; that apparently fell by the wayside almost immediately, and proceeded to only ever teach one lesson: making more and more money feels good.
On the surface, Freshly-Picked Tingle’s Rosy Rupeeland is little more than a truncated Legend of Zelda adventure. There’s a large “overworld”, monsters stalk the landscape, and a village is filled with friendly NPCs that may or may not distribute minor sidequests. There are five big dungeons, a handful of “lesser” dungeons, and attendant bosses that alternate between physical challenges and “puzzle fights”. The land is vast and huge, and you better believe there is a lost wood of wise trees, a volcanic mountain, and a smattering of ruins dotting the landscape. There is Lon Lon Ranch. There are bomb flowers. There are empty bottles. And, through it all, there are rupees. Like any good Zelda game, there are prizes abound, so you can search out those treasure chests lurking in the nooks and crannies of Tingle’s world. Everybody loves finding rupees! Everyone loves a bonus!
Rupees are not just a prize you might find for shoving your shovel into the right place in Freshly-Picked Tingle’s Rosy Rupeeland. Rupees are everything. It is never a matter of simply providing coin for wares, you need to pay up if you want to enter a dungeon. Or engage in combat. Or even just talk to some people. Yes, the most basic task in an adventure game, talking to an NPC, often requires a fee in FPTRR. Every task that you could possibly name in your typical Zelda game, every “verb” you’ve ever seen Link do, has an attached fee in Tingle’s adventure. Want to blow up a crack in a wall, Tingle? Well, I hope you managed your resources well enough to have a bomb jar on hand. You didn’t think that secret area would be free, did you?
Nope! It’s just guess work, and you could be trading Tingle’s literal and figurative lifeblood away for nothing. Yes, extra rupees are going to make your next toll-taker happy, but when Tingle dies penniless in a dungeon thanks to an errant spike-trap, you’ll be regretting giving away even one extra cent. By the time you reach the end of Tingle’s quest, you’ll have had to make so many aggravating decisions based on perceived values, you’ll never want to see another rupee again.
Your ultimate goal shifts from earning enough rupees to placate Uncle Rupee to earning enough rupees to murder Uncle Rupee, because, of course, the only way to win is to challenge Uncle Rupee through a shoot ‘em up on the moon fueled entirely by rupee bullets (
Freshly-Picked Tingle’s Rosy Rupeeland is not shy about its moral: greed is bad, and “money” just makes everything worse. When people won’t talk without being paid, it is annoying to have so much as a conversation. When citizens won’t help each other without a clear reward, everyone gets unnecessarily hurt. When you spend your life in pursuit of mammon, you will not have a happy ending. The best anyone can hope for is Tingle incidentally doing some good along the way… even if the ultimate reason he’s doing anything at all is he just really wants to go for a ride in that limo. Doing anything in FPTRR is bothersome, and it’s all rupees’ fault. It’s all greed’s fault. If everyone simply lived in a happy little Hyrule that wasn’t so materialistic, Tingle’s life would be so much easier. This adventure could be so much better. This game could be so much more fun.
Did you know? Freshly-Picked Tingle’s Rosy Rupeeland was developed by Vanpool, the company responsible for Dillon’s Rolling Western and the minigames of Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga. And, not coincidentally, Vanpool involves a few employees formally of Love-de-Lic, the minds behind Moon: Remix RPG Adventure (currently available on Switch). If I wanted to be popular, I’d be reviewing that game, but, man, I can’t just ignore Tingle. 