You may have read a post I wrote about how I can be a naughty cheater sometimes. You may not have. Here’s a recap: I sometimes cheat at video games. Well, I once took my cheating to a whole new level in “Donkey Kong Country 2” many years ago, back when I was really cruddy at it (I mean, kruddy). For anyone who’s played this awesome game, you will know that there are these secret levels in the Lost World that can only be accessed by collecting Krem Koins and giving them to the buff and beefy (or beef and buffy, if you prefer) Klubba. Well, obtaining Krem Koins meant locating and completing all the mini games, which was just not an easy task. I mean, I might even go so far as to say it was downright difficult. Continue reading Overlooked: The Secret Krem Koin of DKC2→
You may or may not be aware of the existence of an elusive fish in “The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time”, the Hylian loach (which is actually referenced when you catch a loach in the first “Animal Crossing”). I am not certain how I came about knowledge of this particular fish, nor do I know what, if anything, you get from catching it. As far as I can tell, nothing. Nothing but the satisfaction of telling people, “Hey, guess what, I caught it.” Nevertheless, as with all secrets, once I learned about this thing, I knew I had to try my hand at catching it.
Unfortunately, I am actually better at catching fish in real life than I am in video games. Quite ironic, really, as quite the opposite is true in most situations. For example, I am far more adept at sword fighting and welding magic in video games than I am in real life. (What’s that, you aren’t able to wield magic in real life at all?) Continue reading Overlooked: The Hylian Loach→
You may remember a post I wrote about a rather monotonous game called “Quest 64”. It is truly one of the most boring games in existence (even worse than “Chain of Memories”), but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its secrets. Like all secrets, this one took me a while to find out about. Nevertheless, there had always been a location of the game that just seemed strange to me. Because every time I played this game, I always wondered why the desert was so darn big. If you wander about Dindom Dries, you will reach a part of the desert that consists of nothing but an endless expanse of dunes, while the map fades away to nothing. Of course, I knew the desert couldn’t really go on forever, but there were times I’d try to see where I’d end up if I just started walking, and I never got anywhere. It would always just get to a point where, no matter how long you walked forward, you would never get any farther from what lay behind. Continue reading Overlooked: Shamwood→
Gee, Duck, what’s the weirdest boss you’ve ever fought? Well, that’s an easy one, random questioner, because the very first thing that comes to mind is a seriously bizarre hidden level in the old SNES game “Star Fox”. Like with the hidden Yellow Lum from “Rayman 2”, this secret didn’t come to my attention until just a few years ago. Two secrets did, actually, one involving going through a black hole, which was kind of weird, but not super exciting, and another called Out of this Dimension, and I mean it, this one’s really…weird.
Just getting to this place is weird. You’re supposed to go to the Asteroid Belt on the right (Fox’s right), and eventually you find this certain asteroid (which I missed during my first few tries) that looks different from the others that you blast to reveal an egg of some sort. Shoot the egg, and a bird comes out, and if you fly into the bird, you reach this secret place called Out of This Dimension that makes you want to spew and jump for glee at the same time. But, don’t, because that’ll only increase your chances of, well, spewing.
One of the most satisfying things in any video game, for me, at least, is when you discover secrets that most of those who have played the game know little about. I have found a decent number of secrets (well, to be honest, by “found”, I mean that I read about them online) in various games, and I decided it would be quite fun to share them with you all. Today’s topic: the elusive 1,000th Yellow Lum in “Rayman 2”.
First off, show of hands. Who’s played “Rayman 2”? Okay, I’m having trouble seeing you through the Internet like this, but my guess is, not tons of people. Correct me if I’m wrong, and I often am, but this series seems to be one that goes rather unnoticed by most people. (This knowledge stems from the fact that, when I asked various friends about the games in the past, all but one of them said they had never even heard of “Rayman”. And the one that had heard of the series flat out stated that she didn’t like it. For a reason even she wouldn’t reveal.) Well, I am proud to be a big “Rayman” fan, and my favorite game of the series is “Rayman 2” (I have the Nintendo 64 version; I have heard each version is a bit different). Nevertheless, even after playing this game countless times over the years, I hadn’t a clue that there was actually an extra Lum in this game. You see, the game starts off with 1,000 Yellow Lums, which goes down to 999 when the dastardly Admiral Razorbeard eats one. Poor thing. And the game never once hints at the existence of a spare Lum, either, so naturally, I knew nothing about it.
My fondest memories of cheat codes and unlockable content are firmly rooted in the Playstation One era. Video games had finally made the transition to disc-based media, and this upgrade provided developers with even more room to flex their creative muscles. Fighting games featured hordes of hidden characters and modes. Role-playing games became multi-disc epics; chock full of art galleries and enemy encyclopedias. A traditional platformer could provide players with hours of additional gameplay well after the main quest was completed. These were the glory days of the video game secret, where the hype machine of the gaming industry lacked the resources to spoil mysteries for the sake of publicity. Every disc seemed to have unlimited potential. There could even be a game hidden within a game.
As one of the two titles that were purchased with our PS1, Parappa the Rapper was a big deal for my brother and me. We loved its off-beat and colorful art style, along with the innovative gameplay it provided. At that time, the concept of rhythm games was still in its infancy and Parappa’s six little levels left us hungry for more. When the sequel hit store shelves, we bought it immediately, ready to rock our way through another goofy music game.
Um Jammer Lammy was a complete upgrade to Parappa the Rapper. The game featured smoother animation, more levels, and an unlockable two-player mode. For every level that was completed in the single-player campaign, that stage would be added to versus mode and a co-op campaign. My brother and I could shred through the story mode together, or face off in epic guitar-solo duels. Eager to unlock every stage for the multiplayer modes, we barreled through the single-player campaign. Upon completing the final concert, a familiar face stepped out of the adoring crowd: Parappa the Rapper!
At first, we thought the presence of our favorite rapping canine was merely a cameo, a polite nod to fans of the first game. To our delighted surprise, Parappa Mode was unlocked for play. The single-player campaign was made fresh with rap versions of every stage. Not just simple remixing, but a full re-purposing of every stage and its music to suit Parappa. New multiplayer modes were unlocked as well, featuring co-op and versus stages between the protagonists of each game. Finally, my brother and I could settle our age-old feud between rap and rock music in the arena of video games.
The existence of these extra modes came as a total shock to my brother and me. There were no hints, previews, or shameless advertising that let slip the presence of Parappa in Um Jammer Lammy. It was like an entire sequel was hidden within the game, just waiting to be unlocked and sweeten an already spectacular experience. These days, that sort of content would be leaked months before the shipping date as a means to create media buzz and overzealous promotion. A worthwhile extra like Parappa Mode would be packaged as marked-up DLC, or worse yet, as a ludicrously priced expansion pack. So instead of longing for a sequel for these beloved characters, I take comfort in my memories of a simpler time; when a video game could still hide a secret on its disc.
The original two “Banjo-Kazooie” games can be rather mysterious, filled with references to the series’ early development and features that were never used in the final versions of the games, but never removed, either. In fact, I find these two games (the first one, especially) to be some of the most mysterious games I have ever played. Hands down. For one thing, who is Captain Blackeye, and why does he appear in a portrait in Mad MonsterMansion? And what is Bottles’ Revenge? And then there’s Stop ‘n’ Swop, the subject of this post, a most famous secret if there ever was one (and there was, and it was this one).
Since I actually played “Banjo-Tooie” before “Banjo-Kazooie”, I didn’t yet know of Stop ‘n’ Swop when I first played the series. Sure, I collected those secret eggs and the Ice Key, having no idea that these related to the previous game, and I saw those pictures in Jolly Roger’s Lagoon (in the same room as Captain Blackeye, as a matter of fact), not being able to figure out what these images were supposed to be showing. A location from the previous game perhaps? But, why? What was the significance of these images in particular? Continue reading Community Post: The Elusive Stop ‘n’ Swop→
