Although nearly all of us grew out of it, I still have a soft spot for the good ol' days of mascot warfare. Mario and Sonic were our playground standard bearers. They inspired us to greater feats of fervent loyalty. If we saw a kid with a Sonic backpack, my friends and I would roll up on them and start some shit. This was Nintendo turf, and if we ever saw a Sega kid anywhere near the jungle gym, they were going back to the basketball court in a Genesis-shaped casket. The first parties were our gangs, and the mascots were our colors.
Maybe we made Crash Bandicoot into a mascot because we needed him to be one.
As the PlayStation began proving itself a capable addition to the mainstream console arena, it became more obvious it lacked an iconic champion. Wars need heroes, and Sony had yet to name one. Whether it was Sony itself or the American public who decided, everyone came to agree there was no better choice for the PlayStation than a barely-recognizable facsimile of a mammal wearing blue jean shorts...
As the PlayStation began proving itself a capable addition to the mainstream console arena, it became more obvious it lacked an iconic champion. Wars need heroes, and Sony had yet to name one. Whether it was Sony itself or the American public who decided, everyone came to agree there was no better choice for the PlayStation than a barely-recognizable facsimile of a mammal wearing blue jean shorts...
Crash Bandicoot came at the tail end of an embarrassing era of platformers. There was a time when the anthropomorphic critter terrorized the video game landscape. We lamented, for if there was such a thing as a loving God, how could it let horrors the likes of Aero the Acro-Bat into this world (let alone its hilariously bad spin-off, Zero the Kamikaze Squirrel). By 1996, we had finally started to realize that '[clever name] the [animal]' Madlib design was a pretty shallow well to draw from. Still, Naughty Dog was able to create something transcendent of its premise.
Although Crash strays little from the most basic platforming mold, it still manages to entertain through its charm. The Pacific island vibe permeates nearly every aspect of the game, be it the shield-bearing natives or the floating tiki mask that follows Crash everywhere. Somehow, the theme never feels out of place, even when combined with some of the strangest character designs anyone had seen at the time. Ok, maybe not the strangest, but out-there enough to be impressed when the Hawaiian-vacation theme and a blue kangaroo in a straight-jacket work so well together. Throw in Crash's still-entertaining dances and death animations, and it's hard not to see why the game and its hero stuck out.
Even with all that Crash Bandicoot still does well, time has taken a toll. Crash was an early entry in 3D platforming, and it shows. You hear it a thousand times, but it is always worth repeating: Platforming is about precision. Crash's level design is built with such precision in mind, chaining seemingly insurmountable jumps and using clever enemy placement to hit that sweet spot between twitch response and memorization. In a three-dimensional space, maintaining precision is difficult, and the subtle design tricks that help assist the player had just started to find their way into games. You will find yourself repeatedly shorting jumps or running headlong into a bottomless pit because you have little concept of Crash's position relative to the world. Adding to this frustration is the lack of analog control. For those who may not remember, the original PlayStation controller did not have analog sticks. Even with a decent D-pad, the controls still feel less than stellar.
Taking the bad with the good, Crash Bandicoot is still a fun game 15 years later. Its style still appeals and its gameplay outshines the cheap deaths due to design limitations. Although his legacy stands mostly forgotten, Crash Bandicoot will always be my PlayStation mascot.
Next week, we'll look at the game that doesn't know the meaning of the word 'up.'
Although Crash strays little from the most basic platforming mold, it still manages to entertain through its charm. The Pacific island vibe permeates nearly every aspect of the game, be it the shield-bearing natives or the floating tiki mask that follows Crash everywhere. Somehow, the theme never feels out of place, even when combined with some of the strangest character designs anyone had seen at the time. Ok, maybe not the strangest, but out-there enough to be impressed when the Hawaiian-vacation theme and a blue kangaroo in a straight-jacket work so well together. Throw in Crash's still-entertaining dances and death animations, and it's hard not to see why the game and its hero stuck out.
Even with all that Crash Bandicoot still does well, time has taken a toll. Crash was an early entry in 3D platforming, and it shows. You hear it a thousand times, but it is always worth repeating: Platforming is about precision. Crash's level design is built with such precision in mind, chaining seemingly insurmountable jumps and using clever enemy placement to hit that sweet spot between twitch response and memorization. In a three-dimensional space, maintaining precision is difficult, and the subtle design tricks that help assist the player had just started to find their way into games. You will find yourself repeatedly shorting jumps or running headlong into a bottomless pit because you have little concept of Crash's position relative to the world. Adding to this frustration is the lack of analog control. For those who may not remember, the original PlayStation controller did not have analog sticks. Even with a decent D-pad, the controls still feel less than stellar.
Taking the bad with the good, Crash Bandicoot is still a fun game 15 years later. Its style still appeals and its gameplay outshines the cheap deaths due to design limitations. Although his legacy stands mostly forgotten, Crash Bandicoot will always be my PlayStation mascot.
Next week, we'll look at the game that doesn't know the meaning of the word 'up.'
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