March
12, 2005
Sonic
the Hedgehog belongs to that select group of videogames that
is more famous for what it achieved than the the game itself. Space
Invaders, Pac-Man, Super Mario Brothers,
Tetris, Street Fighter 2 - these are the landmark
titles that redefined the medium and influenced everything that
followed.
I'm
not too sure how to convey to younger readers just what it was like
to discover Sonic in that summer of 1991. It was the year
underground rock and Seattle grunge finally toppled contrived pop
and hair metal; the closing days of the Cold War; the beginning
of the end for Reagan-Bush. Not to get too political here, but '91
was the year for change.
When
Sonic arrived, it was a rush of fresh air. We were accustomed
to Mario and countless wannabees, but this was different.
This was modern, flashy, new. Here was a game practically
bursting at the seams, eager to prove itself. For anyone with a
Genesis, it was a dream come true.
Most
gamers are familiar with the story of Sonic, of how hardscrabble
Sega, desperate to compete against Nintendo's impending steamroller
into the 16-bit console market, pooled their best talent to create
a mascot game that would embody their rebel spirit and sell systems.
They succeeded beyond their wildest expectations; the resulting
shock waves are still being felt.
You've
seen it in boxing once or twice, as when Muhammed Ali beat Sonny
Liston or when Buster Douglas knocked out Tyson. Those champs weren't
defeated, they were ended. Their careers were over the
moment their faces hit the canvas; immediately reduced to rubble,
to irrelevance. Sega delivered that blow to Nintendo. Sonic
the Hedgehog destroyed Nintendo, finished them.
At
one time, they were king of the hill, untouchable. Hell, Nintendo
was videogames. Now, they're nothing. Genesis took
away half the console market in one punch. Then Sony swept away
the both of them and finished the Console Wars for good.
Nintendo
doesn't even make games anymore. They've spent the last five years
on the gas fumes of nostalgia, hoping the old fans will return for
another Mario, another Zelda, another Metroid.
But those few gems are few and far between, and the Nintendo 64
and Gamecube consoles have the dust to prove it. All Nintendo really
has left now is their Gameboy, and now Sony's Playstation Portable
will take that away. Nintendo is over, and it all comes back to
that blue hedgehog in the summer of '91.
It
goes without saying that Sonic is a great game. If you
gave me the opening Green Hill Zone and discarded the rest, you
would still have one of the great videogames. It's bold, abstract
checkerboard patterns, it's trees and robot animals that resemble
the computer animation of its day, those collapsing cliffs and shining
rings; everything just jumps out at you. These levels have that
perfect mix of speed and mystery, of turns, tunnels, and buried
surprises just off the page.
It's
really in Green Hill that Sonic the Hedgehog earns its
mythology. This is where we're promised all the roller coaster thrills
and bad attitude, and it delivers. The early levels in Sonic
CD and S3K may have refined
and perfected the formula, but this is where they stole all the
ideas.
Now
that said, I'm going to write something that really needs to be
said: the rest of the game isn't as good. Sonic's other
five worlds are varied and carry their own theme - volcanic temple,
underwater ruins, city construction site, industrial wasteland -
and they're a lot of fun. But that reckless speed that was promised
at the beginning is almost entirely abandoned. Poor old Sonic is
stuck in mid-tempo, or worse, left waiting around for something
to happen.
Why
was this done? There's something of a creative tension between Sonic
Team's two top talents. Naoto Oshima, who designed the characters,
preferred intricate level structure, while Yuji Naka, the lead programmer,
wanted the speed. You can see this play out as they were both given
their own Sonic sequels: Oshima with Sonic CD, Naka with
Sonic 2 and S3K.
I
happen to think that Sonic CD and S3K are both
superior to the original, but there's no denying the appeal of that
first discovery. Time has given it a unique flair, warts-and-all.
With
its triumphant release, Sonic the Hedgehog quickly became
the Genesis system-seller, and spawned an endless stream of mascot-tinged
platform games. For the rest of the 16-bit era, it seemed every
software publisher had to have its own smart-alecky mascot.
Aero
the Acrobat. Awesome 'Possum. Bubba and Stix. Bubsy the Bobcat.
Chester Cheetah. Cool Spot. Dynamite Headdy. Earthworm Jim. Mr.
Nutz. James Pond. Pulseman. Socket. Radical Rex. Ristar. Taz Mania.
Tinhead. Treasureland Adventure. Vectorman. Zero the Kamikaze Squirrel.
That's
only a partial list of games that appeared on the Genesis. I haven't
even begun on the Super NES, to say nothing of every game system
to come after. Even today, most action-platformers star cartoon
heroes who try to be "cool."
The
key word here is "try." None of them can still touch Sonic.
Sure, he stole the toe-tapping bit from the character in Boulderdash,
but so what? The hedgehog was always cooler. |
