The final unlockable challenge level of Arkedo's JUMP! delivers a play experience more maddening than that of being assaulted white-clothed by a series of Alabaman thundershits, soaked from all directions with vile swamprot, with only your tiny Shout stain-erasing pen to thwart the assault. It is a level so remorseless that to call it remorseless is disgustingly inept. I have spent more than twice as long on the level alone as it took me to actually finish the entire game proper (and every one of its "challenges," which amount to going through the standard game again but collecting every coin and jewel peppered around the stages on your way to the end). As I write this, I have arrived at work, an endeavor to which I was almost a failure by way of being late because I tried so goddamned hard to beat the thing before I left the house.
You may recognize the developer, Arkedo, as that group of fellers who crafted the lauded Nervous Brickdown and Big Bang Mini for the DS, two games that to this writer felt inventive but perhaps a bit tiresome as they drug on. Arkedo's solution to their systemic constraints (publisher approval, code verification, the need to justify a full retail price, approval processes, the annoyances of physical retail): the Arkedo Series, bite-sized little games released in a sequential set of what currently amounts to four-ish guaranteed titles published on the 360's "Indie Games" channel. The Arkedo Series label encapsulates the manifestation of a compelling philosophy, especially for an Actual Developer With A Track Record: one developer, one programmer, six weeks, three bucks, peer reviewed, no bullshit.
I started the trial version on recommendation of resident rabid hyena Matt, whose feverish endorsements of all things niche and quirky are occasionally infectious, and often in the life-ending viral way. Despite the threat I found his suggestion easier to snap-obey this time, because the game was Arkedo Series 01 - JUMP!, and in a matter of twenty-five seconds I had navigated to the Indie Games portal, downloaded the trial game bearing this title, and noticed I was staring at the first screen of a game coded half the world away and delivered to me instantly with precisely 0% fuckery.
It is no stretch to say that though my critical evaluations of games do not (and should not) reflect a specific uniform credo (offer buying decisions! remark on value! compare to other games releasing at same time! bitch about multiplayer!), the delivery mechanism that JUMP! finds itself attached to is as refreshing as a cold alcoholic beverage in the dead of summer. Here is your game, press start, play this game now.
JUMP, before you have actually played it, with only vague comments and preconceived notions coalescing in your mind, seems like something that might be similar to Bomb Jack? In actuality, it is an acceptable fusion of the sorts of game concepts found in things like Donkey Kong '94, N+, and even Mappy Land: hop around this level while avoiding a variety of insta-kill hazards, collect all the bombs before they explode, then get back to the entrance. The mechanics of movement feel just fine, from your walking speed to jumping height and distance (with only the occasional weird hitbox result, swinging a little in either way "I can't believe that enemy hit me" vs. "I can't believe it didn't count that as hitting me"), and maneuvering your character throughout the levels is rarely of any frustration. The game introduces a few new concepts as you go, including bombs that do not light (and begin ticking down) until you've collected a set number of coins or treasure peppered around the stage, platforms ala Mega Man 2 which phase in and out of existence, Mario Worldian on/off triggers that fill in or remove blocks from outlined areas hanging in mid-air, and a comically laughable and occasionally seen one-use one-kill throwing knife which almost serves more as a commentary on the style of the game than an actual usable defense: this is not God of War, and you can't just stab what's in front of you.
The first things that will catch you are surface level though: there are full-on Live Arcade games that don't look as polished as this. The graphics are bright and clean, even with the luxuries they've been afforded by intentionally seeking to ape that blocky super-pixel retro style. The game is funny, barking out textual insults like "you sure are trying hard," and "crabs don't like hugs" (a reference to your inevitable run-ins with one of the staple enemies present). It even starts some shit about Charles Darwin in berating you upon your death about your lack of skill. Finish a stage, and witness enormous YEAH! text slap bang across your TV. Humor also comes in the form of numerous tiny game and movie homages to the original Super Mario Bros., Army of Darkness, Metal Gear Solid, and Indiana Jones, both in the titles of stages as well as in the actual level design. Every stage is named as efficiently as a nicely-written poem: here is an extra little bit that will shed some light on what you're about to do (or what you just did).
Being a "retro" game, there are no continues, and when your lives are gone that's it—start over. On my first play through the game though, I made it to the second-to-last level with relative ease, exhausting half the extra lives I had acquired throughout the game on a stage a handful of levels prior, and the rest on that second-to-last one.
Newfound resolve triumphed, though, and on a second playthrough I reached the final stage virtually effortlessly in nineteen minutes, which definitely called to memory some of the shorter games of the eight-bit past. Once you finish the main game, you open the challenge mode, which is cleared primarily with similar ease, except for this fucking last one, which you unlock after finishing all the standard levels, and because of which my living room pillow currently resides on the kitchen floor following a particularly hardy throw (I will leave it there as a reminder, until I am finally able to thwart the hellish scenario). The agony of this single level ironically has been worth three dollars alone, as I know that when I finish it I will bound from the sofa to my feet and let out a gutteral yelp that will shatter the heavens and send every pigeon near my windowsill to the Black Realm via a massive shockwave of pure gravity where they will experience pain unimaginable by any living entity before being rendered still-feeling organic soup.
For $59.99 you'd be an idiot, which is advice that applies all the way down the chain to some nebulous level that surely resides above the $3.00 price point that this game will never exceed. As a title that does what it seeks to do, it succeeds, which is all I ask. But as a game that lends concrete validity via a bold and intelligent development philosophy to a gaming delivery mechanism currently inhabited by a one-armed baker's dozen of goodies and a Santa Claus-satchel full of I'mlearningtoprogramware and sex aids disguised as theraputic controller massage software, JUMP! is a fistful of Altoids stuffed straight up your ass.
You may recognize the developer, Arkedo, as that group of fellers who crafted the lauded Nervous Brickdown and Big Bang Mini for the DS, two games that to this writer felt inventive but perhaps a bit tiresome as they drug on. Arkedo's solution to their systemic constraints (publisher approval, code verification, the need to justify a full retail price, approval processes, the annoyances of physical retail): the Arkedo Series, bite-sized little games released in a sequential set of what currently amounts to four-ish guaranteed titles published on the 360's "Indie Games" channel. The Arkedo Series label encapsulates the manifestation of a compelling philosophy, especially for an Actual Developer With A Track Record: one developer, one programmer, six weeks, three bucks, peer reviewed, no bullshit.
I started the trial version on recommendation of resident rabid hyena Matt, whose feverish endorsements of all things niche and quirky are occasionally infectious, and often in the life-ending viral way. Despite the threat I found his suggestion easier to snap-obey this time, because the game was Arkedo Series 01 - JUMP!, and in a matter of twenty-five seconds I had navigated to the Indie Games portal, downloaded the trial game bearing this title, and noticed I was staring at the first screen of a game coded half the world away and delivered to me instantly with precisely 0% fuckery.
It is no stretch to say that though my critical evaluations of games do not (and should not) reflect a specific uniform credo (offer buying decisions! remark on value! compare to other games releasing at same time! bitch about multiplayer!), the delivery mechanism that JUMP! finds itself attached to is as refreshing as a cold alcoholic beverage in the dead of summer. Here is your game, press start, play this game now.
JUMP, before you have actually played it, with only vague comments and preconceived notions coalescing in your mind, seems like something that might be similar to Bomb Jack? In actuality, it is an acceptable fusion of the sorts of game concepts found in things like Donkey Kong '94, N+, and even Mappy Land: hop around this level while avoiding a variety of insta-kill hazards, collect all the bombs before they explode, then get back to the entrance. The mechanics of movement feel just fine, from your walking speed to jumping height and distance (with only the occasional weird hitbox result, swinging a little in either way "I can't believe that enemy hit me" vs. "I can't believe it didn't count that as hitting me"), and maneuvering your character throughout the levels is rarely of any frustration. The game introduces a few new concepts as you go, including bombs that do not light (and begin ticking down) until you've collected a set number of coins or treasure peppered around the stage, platforms ala Mega Man 2 which phase in and out of existence, Mario Worldian on/off triggers that fill in or remove blocks from outlined areas hanging in mid-air, and a comically laughable and occasionally seen one-use one-kill throwing knife which almost serves more as a commentary on the style of the game than an actual usable defense: this is not God of War, and you can't just stab what's in front of you.
The first things that will catch you are surface level though: there are full-on Live Arcade games that don't look as polished as this. The graphics are bright and clean, even with the luxuries they've been afforded by intentionally seeking to ape that blocky super-pixel retro style. The game is funny, barking out textual insults like "you sure are trying hard," and "crabs don't like hugs" (a reference to your inevitable run-ins with one of the staple enemies present). It even starts some shit about Charles Darwin in berating you upon your death about your lack of skill. Finish a stage, and witness enormous YEAH! text slap bang across your TV. Humor also comes in the form of numerous tiny game and movie homages to the original Super Mario Bros., Army of Darkness, Metal Gear Solid, and Indiana Jones, both in the titles of stages as well as in the actual level design. Every stage is named as efficiently as a nicely-written poem: here is an extra little bit that will shed some light on what you're about to do (or what you just did).
Being a "retro" game, there are no continues, and when your lives are gone that's it—start over. On my first play through the game though, I made it to the second-to-last level with relative ease, exhausting half the extra lives I had acquired throughout the game on a stage a handful of levels prior, and the rest on that second-to-last one.
Newfound resolve triumphed, though, and on a second playthrough I reached the final stage virtually effortlessly in nineteen minutes, which definitely called to memory some of the shorter games of the eight-bit past. Once you finish the main game, you open the challenge mode, which is cleared primarily with similar ease, except for this fucking last one, which you unlock after finishing all the standard levels, and because of which my living room pillow currently resides on the kitchen floor following a particularly hardy throw (I will leave it there as a reminder, until I am finally able to thwart the hellish scenario). The agony of this single level ironically has been worth three dollars alone, as I know that when I finish it I will bound from the sofa to my feet and let out a gutteral yelp that will shatter the heavens and send every pigeon near my windowsill to the Black Realm via a massive shockwave of pure gravity where they will experience pain unimaginable by any living entity before being rendered still-feeling organic soup.
For $59.99 you'd be an idiot, which is advice that applies all the way down the chain to some nebulous level that surely resides above the $3.00 price point that this game will never exceed. As a title that does what it seeks to do, it succeeds, which is all I ask. But as a game that lends concrete validity via a bold and intelligent development philosophy to a gaming delivery mechanism currently inhabited by a one-armed baker's dozen of goodies and a Santa Claus-satchel full of I'mlearningtoprogramware and sex aids disguised as theraputic controller massage software, JUMP! is a fistful of Altoids stuffed straight up your ass.