It’s no wonder that some TV games can’t manage to be as compelling as they were fourteen years ago. How is the consumer supposed to qualify an adventure as worthwhile when developers and publishers have completely abandoned the moniker of Super? In fact, game titles as a whole have become so vague. I think the last game that really told the people what it was about was Playstation’s Blaster Master: Blasting Again. The name says it all. Blaster Master is back, doing what he does best. Too bad the game was kind of gay.
Heck, I imagine that niche games like Tim Schafer’s brilliant Psychonauts could even survive resurrection in this cold world through a “super” renovation. But is there more to this type of game than an astounding adjective?
First, the obvious: everything has to be bigger! I’m not just talking about larger turtles or heftier anvils, the world has to be all-consuming. If comic characters were judged on this basis, Galactus would not only earn a “Super” before his name, but his nipples would be terraformed colonies that the hero(es) would traverse by necessity.
Applying gimmicks to your game isn’t necessary when everything is considerably larger. To be safe, however, analysts would also recommend more frequent boss encounters, including but not limited to one sub-boss per level. These are just suggestions, though! It wouldn’t be “Super” if it wasn’t fun, so just imagine the most super fun thing ever and digitize it!
Placement is key. Take Treasure’s semi-recent GBA effort Gunstar Super Heroes. Are we supposed to classify this as a “super” game? Let’s not mince words, they goofed. This name just implies that the characters have graduated to a higher level of being, excluding the advancements the developers have made in the game. Am I going to be experiencing a Super Adventure? I wouldn’t know, they won’t tell me before I buy it!
Still, could million-sellers like Halo benefit from this? Would I be alone in line for or Super Halo or Super Grand Theft Auto?
Or will you join me!?