exp.

Subscribe

Tag: taito

  • Steel Worker (Taito, 1980)

    Steel Worker (Taito, 1980)

    Developed/Published by: Taito
    Released: March 1980
    Completed: 08/08/2026
    Completion: 3100 points, but if I wanted to stick with it I could do way better.

    Steel Worker is the third Taito game (chronologically) available via the Egret II Mini system, though they chose to skip over two balloon-based arcade games (Balloon Bomber and Crazy Balloon) that supposedly came out of the same month as this, both of which have seen modern re-releases. I’m not sure what the bigger mystery is: why Taito was so into balloons in 1980 or why they’re against them now–maybe someone on the Egret II Mini team is scared of balloons? Based on my viewings of Taskmaster, more people are scared of them than you’d think?

    Steel Worker is a really interesting one, because it’s another example of someone inventing a game idea before it can really be implemented well enough for it to become a huge success (or they just get some basic assumptions wrong.) I’ve seen this a few times–the Atari 2600 is really good for this one; Air Sea Battle is almost Space Invaders, Human Cannonball is almost Scorched Earth1–but Steel Worker is interesting because it’s almost Lemmings, but pre-figures it by almost ten years!

    In Steel Worker, a tiny man is attempting to cross from one side of the screen to the other, and the player must select a variety of girders and stairs selected from a menu to ensure that he does so (said tiny man is the steel worker of the title, and as he approaches the end of one placed piece, he places the next if prompted in time.) You must ensure the girders he places connect with the central platform–which is set at different heights on each attempt/level–and time the crossing so the steel worker doesn’t get bonked by the pulley system that’s (seemingly pointlessly) just raising some containers up and down endlessly. To do that, you’ve got nine opportunities to reverse the direction of the worker, who speeds up his moment occasionally (and suicidally.)

    Obviously, this sounds incredibly similar to Lemmings, like a simplified version where you’ve really only got builders. But it’s not quite so direct, because the interface and timing is so different, undoubtedly affected by the early hardware Steel Worker is running on. 

    For one, the game is fast–and the input is very strict. Once you have selected a piece for the steel worker to place, you can no longer move the cursor. From a modern perspective, you want to be able to selecting the pieces in quick succession, but the game is not about planning the route–it’s about the seconds between the last girder being placed and the race to select the next correct one from the menu in time, praying that the steel worker hasn’t sped up for some reason (because when he does, you’ve got no chance.)

    So when you start playing Steel Worker, you’re going to wonder what all of the pieces are really for–because you’ll work out the quickest route using simple stairs fairly quickly and feel some success apart from the levels where the steel worker throws himself off the edge about one second after the level loads. But Steel Worker isn’t actually about getting to the other side of the screen as quickly as possible–it’s a high score game after all. You get 50 points for every girder you place up to fifteen times, so your goal is actually to place as many girders as possible while still being able to navigate to the end of the level. The idea is to end with a quite circuitous route to the end where tiny vertical stair shafts are your multiplier, playing chicken with the steel worker’s urge to kill himself at random (well, we all have intrusive thoughts, I guess.)

    Steel Worker isn’t great. It’s a bit too random, and with only one obstacle on screen, it quickly gets boring. It might feel surprising there aren’t more obstacles to be avoided, but I suspect they simply couldn’t guarantee a safe route through a screen if they did so without designing multiple screens, and there probably wasn’t enough memory–I’m sure they thought randomly placing the central platform was enough variety. 

    It’s not, sadly, but I think anyone playing Steel Worker now would go “there’s something here to work with” which makes it all the odder that no one did at the time. The only design I can find that’s close to Steel Worker is the NES’s not-especially beloved Gumshoe, which was released over five years later (and not in Japan, weirdly) and that’s more of a lightgun auto-runner. Games such as Guttang Gottong–probably the earliest other “autonomous character” game I can find–are more of a sliding puzzle. Steel Worker really does stand alone as the first example of this kind of thing (well, at least as far as my research has taken me, anyway.)

    I’d rather play Lemmings, though…

    Will I ever play it again? Mmm.  No. Though I did realise I technically own Balloon Bomber and Crazy Balloon because I’ve got a Taito Legends kicking about here somewhere. So I guess I have to look at those…

    Final Thought: Lemmings has come up before, actually. In my writing about UFO 50 I’ve pointed out the collection’s anachronistic designs–which I don’t think is a criticism as such, but I’m do think it’s interesting where they’ve allowed more modern quality of life features and where they haven’t–and I definitely noted that Mortol fit more into the early 90s era than early 80s era. Nothing about Steel Worker changes that–they feature very different aspects of the Lemmings design–but Steel Worker does at least prove that these kinds of ideas were floating about in the ether in that era, just waiting to be implemented well!

    1. Read about them in exp. 2600 and 2602! ↩︎
  • Double Dragon (Technōs Japan, 1987)

    Double Dragon (Technōs Japan, 1987)

    Developed/Published by: Technōs Japan (Published by Taito in North America.)
    Released: 22/04/1987
    Completed: 12/03/2026
    Completion: Finished it (no need for saving until that ridiculous final level.)

    This essay on Double Dragon follows last week’s on Nekketsu Kōha Kunio-Kun as a tribute to the recently departed Yoshihisa Kishimoto, even though, to be honest, I’m pretty hard on it.

    Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, and if I’ve got an Egret Mini II and I’ve paid to own Double Dragon again, then I might as well play it. 

    In my write up of the NES version, I mentioned that I’d played and completed the arcade original in the form of a now long-delisted Xbox 360 release (written up for Eurogamer.) I absolutely put the boot in, but re-reading that now, I notice how it’s definitely a review of the Xbox 360 release rather than an examination of the arcade original. But there’s something I mention in the review I had completely forgotten about: Double Dragon’s astonishingly poor performance.

    I initially thought the Egret II Mini was at fault–I’d remembered someone saying that if the power supply is too low there are issues–but I’d plugged it in with a decent charger. It’s simply that the game’s original hardware wasn’t up to the game design, and the Egret II Mini stays authentic to that (it seems that people can, and do, overclock the game when emulating it through other means; it might have been nice if Taito had offered something like this, but I understand why they didn’t.)

    Ultimately, the game suffers so much slowdown it is agonising to play. The game slows down as soon as there are as few as two enemies on screen, but speeds up if (for example) you’ve knocked one of them down. The speed of the game undulates in a way that’s completely discombobulating. It makes playing the game unpleasant in a way that’s unusually unique; like trying to build a card tower in front of a rotating fan. And you’ve got jam all over your hands.

    Now… just because I feel that way doesn’t mean that the arcade audience of the late 80s felt that way, with Double Dragon “America’s highest-grossing dedicated arcade game in 1988 and 1989.” I find that baffling, because it’s nigh unplayable! 

    (The only assumption I can make–and it very much is an assumption–is that because the game was using older 8-bit chips, maybe the board was cheaper and so a lot of machines were sold, so it won by sheer numbers. But I certainly don’t have any sales numbers.)

    The thing that makes this all a bit of a shame is that, well, even if it’s stupidly hard, I sort of like Nekketsu Kōha Kunio-Kun, and Double Dragon, as the next game from Yoshihisa Kishimoto–and the one that truly defined the side-scrolling beat-em-up by featuring proper levels that you have to progress through to complete–should be better than it is.  Kishimoto is really trying to make another leap here, and you can feel the game straining within the limitations of the obvious technical problems.

    For example: the game is clearly intended to improve on Nekketsu Kōha Kunio-Kun’s enemy AI, one of that game’s most interesting aspects. And while the enemies here do try and position themselves to take you on, the thing you’re most going to notice is that they’ll just refuse to get close to you if you’re holding a weapon (making holding weapons a complete waste of time) and then otherwise they’re really as dumb as rocks, happily walking into dynamite they’ve just thrown or off cliffs.

    And the player’s abilities are supposed to be deeper, more interesting, more situational, with new moves like a headbutt and a spinning jump kick. But it’s ruined by the fact that–I’m sure inspired by Kunio-Kun’s powerful back kick–heroes Billy and Jimmy Lee have a “elbow smash” that attacks enemies behind them. Possibly aware that the back kick was frustrating–because you couldn’t use it unless you had an enemy behind you–you can now do the elbow smash whenever you like, and because it guarantees an immediate knockdown… the entire game becomes about turning your back on enemies, performing the elbow smash, and then performing it again as soon as they get up.

    I want to be clear: I don’t think you can play this game “properly.” It’s simply too frustrating, with no sense that anything that happens is related to your own abilities because of the slowdown. So instead, the actual and I suspect only way to get through this game is to elbow smash every enemy you face–the ones you can’t make drop off edges, anyway. 

    The only reason this game isn’t an easy single credit win is because the final level is, frankly, nonsense. The first section features some blocks that spring out from the background and some spears that statues attack you with that knock off half of your health. They don’t have any tell (the blocks in particular are infuriating) and it means that you will almost certainly lose a life (and the default settings only start you with two.)

    (There’s also a jump across a bridge in the previous level that will probably take a few lives from you, but at least you can see that.)

    Once you get past all that nonsense, the main problem is just that every enemy has a ludicrous amount of health and (yet again calling back to Nekketsu Kōha Kunio-Kun) the final boss can kill you in one hit by shooting you. He goes down easily to the elbow smash like everyone else, however.

    I really, really wish I liked Double Dragon. It’s a hugely important game, but when you play it, you almost can’t understand why. The design is coming from the right place. I can see that Kishimoto is trying to move the genre forward. But it’s still a bit half-baked, and the performance is too poor for you to appreciate it anyway.1 I wasn’t that hot on the NES version–with its awkward platforming, and still including those annoying stupid blocks–but it’s a much better way to spend your time than this.

    Will I ever play it again? Right, that’s twice. That’s absolutely enough times.

    Final Thought: You know what? There’s one thing they nailed straight off with Double Dragon. The theme music. Absolutely gets the blood pumping.

    1. I’d love to read Florent Gorges’ Enter The Double Dragon to see if it has anything on Kishimoto’s experience making this, but it’s 1) in French and 2) not easily accessible. ↩︎
  • Nekketsu Kōha Kunio-Kun (Technōs Japan, 1986)

    Nekketsu Kōha Kunio-Kun (Technōs Japan, 1986)

    Developed/Published by: Technōs Japan/Taito
    Released: 05/1986
    Completed: 08/03/2026
    Completion: Finished it (Saving after each level.)

    It was announced on April 5th that the designer of Nekketsu Kōha Kunio-Kun, Double Dragon and more, Yoshihisa Kishimoto, had passed away. There’s a sad coincidence here, as I’d just played both Nekketsu Kōha Kunio-Kun and Double Dragon for an unrelated reason. These weren’t Kishimoto’s first games–he started at Data East and created some well-regarded laserdisc games, Thunder Storm and Road Blaster (also known as Cobra Command and Road Avenger) but they are his best known works, so as tribute I’ll be posting my articles on them this week and next.

    image via https://x.com/FlorentGorgesFR/status/2041105532522561653
    Yoshihisa Kishimoto (1961-2026)

    I hadn’t originally planned to play this–in fact, in my write-up of the Famicom’s Nekketsu Kōha Kunio-Kun I said I wouldn’t–but I had a research-related reason and the Egret Mini II’s most recent release, Arcade Collection Part I meant I suddenly had easy access to it, so it would have been an absolute dereliction of duty to not play it.

    Best known as Renegade, Nekketsu Kōha Kunio-Kun is a cornerstone video game the likes of The Tower of Druaga or Xevious, in that it would spawn an entire genre that would end up in an almost entirely different–arguably simpler–place. It’s the original “brawler” style beat ‘em up (or, as it’s known in Japan, “belt scrolling action”) though as it exists pre-genre convention, it will surprise any modern player with its stages, which are arena battles (rather than continuous levels) and combat that requires savvy positioning and careful timing, as there’s no way to credit feed (although your health is restored after each stage, there are no continues.)

    Renegade was created by Techōs Japan for Taito to appeal to a western audience and was directly inspired by Walter Hill’s New York-set The Warriors (despite that hardly being a contemporary reference; the film was over seven years old by that point) but Nekketsu Kōha Kunio-Kun is remarkable for being an early example of an–at least mildly–autobiographical game. Designer Yoshihisa Kishimoto based Kunio on himself, who as a teen found himself getting into fights on a daily basis.1 The game is strongly inspired by the unique culture of delinquency in Japan: the hero, Kunio, is a high school student driven into action to defend his bullied friend: first against “banchō” (male high school delinquents) then against “bōsōzoku” (custom motorcycle biker gangs) then “sukeban” (female high school delinquents) before finally the deadly yakuza.

    The level intros, where your pal gets his beaten up and even shot(!) aren’t replaced with anything in Renegade, to its detriment, I think.

    Nekketsu Kōha Kunio-kun is deceptive. It can be beaten in as quickly as six minutes, but only the very best players could even attempt such a feat. The game is crushingly hard even on its easiest difficulty, with enemies that intelligently swarm you and a boss in each arena who can seem invincible. The trick is that there are three buttons: a left attack, jump, and right attack. You hit the attack in the direction you are facing, and if there is an enemy behind you, you can hit the opposite attack to do a powerful back kick to make space. This is, honestly, pretty confusing if you’re more used to later games that quickly discarded such a system, but it’s a large factor in the game’s richness. You don’t try to overwhelm enemies in Nekketsu Kōha Kunio-kun; you have to carefully position yourself to avoid getting stunlocked by attacks from multiple directions, and when you face bosses, you have to consider your tactics. The bōsōzoku boss can be taken down easily with jump kicks, but the sukeban boss will always duck; meaning you’ll have to take advanced tactics like keeping a lower-level enemy on screen so that you can face them and instead use your powerful back kick on the boss.

    It can be frustrating–and it certainly doesn’t feel fair–but the game is so quick that there’s a draw to trying again with a new tactic in mind. The game does push it a little too far with the yakuza level featuring enemies who all one hit kill. With the boss able to fire a gun and kill you from afar, you have to take extremely conservative hit-and-run tactics that can make a loss absolutely gutting (with a lot of luck you can just wail on the boss as soon as he appears; if the other enemies don’t surround you, they might similarly get stunlocked and you’ll survive; it’s far from a consistent tactic, however.)

    I’m a bit surprised by how much I enjoyed this. Maybe it was the novelty of my Egret Mini II, maybe it was that I let myself save after every level, but I had fun trying to “solve” each level after getting over the initial hump of difficulty. There’s depth to the mechanics–you can throw enemies into other enemies, or off the edge of the train platform–and as your health gets restored after each level there’s a real value in trying to survive each brawl at any cost. 

    This motorbike section must have felt like such a slap in the face to those who finished the first level in arcades. You have to time your jump kicks perfectly.

    Normally I wouldn’t be so in favour of a game this hard, but my memory of the Famicom version is that– though the game was far more expansive, with multi-stage levels, a motorbike mini-game, even a maze–it was just too easy to cheese your way through. It’s better, but not as thrilling. I felt like I really had to work for my win here, and for whatever reason, that just worked for me.

    Will I ever play it again? No, but maybe this will lead to a reappraisal of Double Dragon, also on the Egret II Mini’s Arcade Collection Part 1, which I remember being straight cheeks when I played it on (of all things) Xbox 360.

    Final Thought: As much as I like the Egret II Mini (despite some issues previously mentioned) they really dropped the ball on dip switches. Nekketsu Kōha Kunio-kun has four difficulties, but they’re listed in the menu as A, B, C, D, and it’s set to B difficulty. Feels like that would make it easy to assume that’s “normal” difficulty, but the default on the machine was normal, which would maybe make that actually A position. I beat the game on A, which I thought was easier than B, but honestly, having switched difficulties around, I can’t really tell. The game is balls hard no matter what, I guess. I’ve played it longer than I would admit and when I start a fresh run I still can’t beat the first level consistently.

    1. This is sourced from a Polygon article in 2012, though as that article notes, there’s an entire book on Kishimoto’s career by Florent Gorges, Enter the Double Dragon, if you’re interested in learning more. ↩︎
  • Lunar Rescue (Taito, 1979)

    Lunar Rescue (Taito, 1979)

    Developed/Published by: Taito
    Released: 11/1979
    Completed: 27/03/2026
    Completion: Played it as long as I could stand, getting the high score (with a mere 5520)

    It’s been some lean times over here at exp. Towers, but FOMO is real and lives beyond the realm of the sensible, meaning that I finally treated myself to a Taito Egret II Mini because–after foolishly not picking one up previously–the system got reissued in Japan after a period where they were only available for eye-watering prices.

    That means, of course, that I can start playing all the Taito games I’ve got in chronological order! I’ve previously written about Space Invaders (exclusive to exp. 2601) and there’s not much to be said about playing that on an Egret II Mini, but the system also includes Lunar Rescue, which I hadn’t played before. So after a quick detour to play Head On, I decided to not get hung up on playing any earlier Taito games (Space Chaser is just Head On, Field Goal is a weird Break Out, etc.) even though I could easily get Taito Memories working on now after all that falderal with Sega Ages. I’m sure I’ll end up playing games that I didn’t plan to, but let’s try and put my best foot forward here.

    Lunar Rescue seems to be Taito’s most notable post Space Invaders title, and serves also as a notable post Lunar Lander game too. It’s an interesting one in this early wild west of plagiarism because it’s really not very much like Lunar Lander at all, but it does–surely intentionally–include the word “Lunar” in its title. Lunar Lander is–of course–simply a rip-off of Moonlander, which had been kicking about since 1973. So one does have to wonder if Lunar Rescue was merely inspired by the same “inspirations”, considering that Lunar Lander came out–if release dates are even close to correct, of which I admit I have no guarantees they are–mere months before, which does seem like a pretty short turnaround even for a cabinet which uses the same tech as Space Invaders.

    There’s possibly even some simultaneous discovery going on here, because Lunar Rescue is basically a two phase game: you’re trying to land and rescue astronauts while avoiding asteroids, and then get them back to your mothership while avoiding space invaders. Yet Asteroids came out in the same month (dates allowing) so there’s really no chance that they were inspired by it!

    Unlike Asteroids or Lunar Lander, however, Lunar Rescue isn’t about the physics at all. It’s all digital control in the style of Space Invaders. There’s no slow rotations or fine control over speed here. You move left, you move right, and you can slow your ship with the fire button when landing, or speed it up (and fire lasers) when taking off. The asteroids move from left to right (and vice versa) and so do the invaders.

    As someone who genuinely appreciates Space Invaders, I had high hopes for this. Indeed, I can tell there’s some fondness for this game; a near-arcade perfect port was released for ZX Spectrum just a couple of years ago(!) but it’s slow, boring and unfair.

    Landing is boring, and hard to mess up even with your limited movement. So the real issue is taking off, where because you’re flying up the screen into invaders who shoot at you, you can easily find yourself shot by bullets you couldn’t react to–and there’s the added quirk that some ascents feature comets which you generally don’t realise until you’ve died to one. 

    Despite not featuring anything physics-based, the game still manages to lose all of the lustre of Space Invaders; the rhythm, so important to this kind of game, goes from a driving march to a kind of slow waltz, but one where your toes are constantly being tread on. After a couple of goes I really just didn’t want to play it any more, but persevered till I could beat the first level without deaths–inconsistently. 

    It’s not exactly that Lunar Rescue is bad–it’s competent, but it’s just so unbelievably unexciting. Honestly that makes it one of the very worst things I’ve played in ages, which I know is unfair, but I longed for the snappy if punishing loop of Head On every second with this.

    Will I ever play it again? No thank you!

    Final Thought: Oh! You might be wondering how I feel about the Taito Egret II Mini. It’s great. Certainly the nicest example of one of these things you can imagine. My main quibble is that it doesn’t have any scanline filters, but that problem was somewhat solved for me by RetroRGB, who recently(-ish) recommended a HDMI to component downscaler that works well enough, so now I can plug my mini systems into an actual CRT. Which is good, because the scanlines on the Astro City Mini are horrific anyway, and I’ve got a game on that system on the backlog…

  • Groove Coaster (Matrix Software, 2011)

    Groove Coaster (Matrix Software, 2011)

    Developed/Published by: Matrix Software / Taito
    Released:     July 28th, 2011
    Completed: 2nd May, 2015
    Completion: Finished all the tracks in normal, gave up partway through hard. I’d seen all the content though.
    Trophies / Achievements: 34/62

    Since early man carved the first iPhone out of limestone on the African savannah, tapping his finger on the screen in time to music has been something he has wanted to do. He started with things like Tap Tap Revenge, but by the time he’d evolved into hipsterlopithecus, he demanded that the things he tapped on have some kind of relation to things from culture he could at least pretend to vaguely remember, and so the Space Invaders-themed Groove Coaster was born!

    That sounds like I’m being hard on Groove Coaster, but it’s a rhythm action game which starts with a very simple concept—your avatar (probably Space Invadersy) follows a track, points on the track appear, tap the screen when your avatar passes them. It slowly evolves so that sometimes you have to hold, some times you have to swipe, etc., but the main thing is you tap the screen in time when prompted. It’s about as simple—as digital—as rhythm action gets, which in itself is kind of interesting.

    You see, I don’t think Groove Coaster is any good at all when it tries to be challenging, and it made me realise something about a lot of rhythm action games, certainly the most well remembered ones like the Guitar Hero franchise—that they’re not really about the skill of performance in the way video games generally are. They’re more like playing music than is obvious I suppose: as a musician it’s a rare talent indeed to be able to just pick up some sheet music you’ve never seen before and play it with a band that already knows the music. In a video game, generally you want to be able to react and recover; you want to be able to perform, or believe you can succeed, from the moment you know the rules. Music is—usually—about repetition more than innate skill, and so are rhythm games; you might fail that track several times because of a noodly bit in the middle, but once you get it, get that muscle memory down, you’re golden.

    I think that’s a fairly obvious realisation, but I think this is one of those “personal realisations” where you feel out what it is you like about, and find interesting in, the medium you’re talking about. Here, with Groove Coaster, I was finding it this lovely, pleasant, spacey game to play shortly before I went to bed—tap in time to the music, while the visuals flashed in front of my sleepy eyes—but as soon as it became about the challenge, I stopped liking it.

    And Groove Coaster has a bunch of quirks, anyway. Because the track your avatar keeps following often moves and changes direction, the amount you can see in the future is severely limited (and at times, the “beats” you’re supposed to hit dance on screen at the last minute, anyway.) The tapping you perform might at one point correspond to the melody, at another, the drums, and it switches between them with no warning or visual representation. And there are invisible “ad-libs” that I could never quite work out.

    Basically, Groove Coaster sort of makes you believe it’s a casual tapper, but it’s actually just as serious about repetition and perfection as any Rock Band title was. It doesn’t mean it’s bad—though I’d argue that its quirks are flaws—but just that it’s not something I found interesting past the point where I’d heard all the songs a few times; the challenge wasn’t rewarding. That’s in stark contrast to the fantasy of a Rock Band game, where as you play on harder and harder levels, you feel more and more like you’re “really” playing the song. Here, you’re just… tapping on the screen, so it doesn’t have the leeway to forget what you’re doing is just trying and failing at challenge that requires repetition and learning more than skill.

    Will I ever play it again? No, and I’m not particularly interested in the free-to-play version Groove Coaster Zero, but if I ever saw it’s wonderfully named arcade edition, Groove Coaster 2: Heavenly Festival I’d give it a shot in multiplayer mode which sounds like a lark.

    Final Thought: Don’t get me wrong, I’m a sucker for Space Invaders style, too. They really are perfectly designed little buggers and I use a fancy Taito Station tote with Space Invaders on it all the time. And I’d totally buy this rug in a heartbeat.