Sure, we’d love to have been treated to a deeper or lengthier adventure in Mega Man 11—not to mention a more memorable soundtrack—but its successes are proof that modernized applications of the classic blueprint can still yield irresistible results.
December 1990. Ecstatic about the prospects of what awaited within the wrapped boxes beneath the Christmas tree in our living room, I had just finished replaying Mega Man 2 the night prior. Two years. Two long, agonizing years: a veritable eternity in the mind of an eight-year-old. That was how long it had been since the blockbuster sequel to the humbler initial entry in Capcom’s franchise had graced us.
I did unwrap Mega Man 3 that Christmas day, and I did spend much of the rest of the day playing it. It was a simpler time in gaming, to be sure; one dominated by cookie-cutter platformers, cruelly and unapologetically difficult adventures, and its fair share of failed gameplay experiments. In its relative infancy, the industry was still cutting its teeth, hamstrung (while simultaneously encouraged) by technological constraints and doubling down on candidates to which the ever-growing market had proven receptive.
In this context, Mega Man as a formula was a trailblazer of its time. Its nonlinear approach to progression, wherein the player could choose any level with which to begin (and where only the final few stages were roped off until the first eight or so had been conquered), was an inventive blueprint in a world where everything unfolded traditionally in sequence. Of course, right alongside that was the power-stealing gimmick by which Mega Man lifted the weapons of his felled adversaries. The combination of these two elements, coupled with super-rad character art and an 8-bit soundtrack to die for, was the primary foundation for what has since become a juggernaut of a franchise.
But over 30 years after its invention, can these same basic building blocks, equally refined and staled by the march of time, still carry a game? After all, the relentless difficulty known well to those who grew up with Mega Man has since been (better?) adapted for use in evolutionary and emerging genres such as roguelikes. It was just two months ago Eric Layman famously lauded Dead Cells in his Perfect 10 shocker, a title which is renowned for being expertly crafted for dopamine manipulation, tossing out just enough goodies and shuffling the pieces sufficiently to retain the player’s interest well beyond the first few dozen times they play through what is otherwise still referred to as the “same” levels.
Mega Man 11 confidently disregards the vast majority of what some might refer to as “improvements” to this now-ancient formula, opting instead to stick with its more modest approach to tempering difficulty and rewarding the player for failure as well as success. This comes in the form of Dr. Light’s Lab, wherein a couple dozen different items can be purchased (and many passively and permanently equipped) to help moderate the challenge as players repeatedly attempt what initially seem to be excessively difficult levels and boss battles. That isn’t to say that they’re unfairly so: MM11 probably isn’t that much harder than, say, Mega Man 2 or 3 overall. But two major things have changed since back then: 1) most players nowadays are less inclined to waste time hacking away at the same timer-based pattern recognition challenges, and 2) Mega Man 11’s stages are easily double the length of the average traditional stage in the classic series.
Because of that, Light’s Lab is a critical inclusion, albeit one which long ago made its debut (in Mega Man 7, as Auto’s Shop) as the series evolved of its own accord. (Auto is handling the vending here also, but responsibilities are split this time. After all, we all know that market competition is the key to holding prices in check—and appropriately, the shop finds eventual discounts championed by Light and gang due to how “efficiently” the reactor happens to be running that particular day… oligopoly notwithstanding.)
Also contributing to the modernization of the recipe is the addition of the Double Gear System. Confusingly named yet ultimately indispensable, this is basically a combination of three new limited-use powers inherent to our hero throughout the course of the entire adventure: Speed Gear (slow motion), Power Gear (powered-up weapons), and finally, Double Gear (a combination of the two, but only possible when low on health). Availability is regulated by an ever-present meter which quickly depletes while any of the powers is active. Meanwhile, leaving them active for too long (more than a few seconds) will overheat the system and invoke an excessively long cooldown period as a penalty.
We’ve seen weapons-enhancing augmentations in Mega Man’s past already, mostly in the form of charged shots. What separates MM11’s approach is the option of activating it immediately without any sort of lead-up—and, in fact, it can be combined with the usual mega buster charged shot to great effect. But apart from that, the bullet-time slow motion effect is surprisingly appropriate for the breed of action promulgated by the franchise. While it’s undeniably a rush attempting to master each and every hair-on-fire, edge-of-your-seat action sequence in Mega Man 11 flying solo, it’s far more approachable—and arguably even more fun—to be empowered with a veritable “Oh $#!7” button that briefly slows the action to a crawl, allowing composure to be regained.
The game certainly isn’t easy even with this in place. The four initial selectable difficulties—of which “Normal”, the second from the highest, is pretty darn challenging—range from simple to nearly impossible. I can’t imagine any reason why someone would want to play on the highest of the four, but in case you do, it’s there for the taking. Masochist.
Level design, fortunately, is true to the title’s forebears. Each of the game’s eight robot bosses oversees an obstacle course completely unlike any of the others, with only a handful of enemies consistent across stages. The eight bosses are: Block Man, Acid Man, Blast Man, Fuse Man, Bounce Man, Torch Man, Impact Man, and Tundra Man. Throughout the stages, you’ll find a mixture of old and new concepts, but it’s fair to say that pretty much all of the implemented mechanics feel conducive to the flow and attitude of the Mega Man brand. Gimmicks don’t overstay their welcome, either; for instance, yes, you’ll have to contend with disappearing blocks, but their cameo in MM11 is acceptably brief.
If tasked with picking a favorite stage, I think I’d have to say that I particularly appreciated Fuse Man’s affinity for pattern and timing-based action; in his stage, electrical beams are carried across ceiling/wall-mounted conveyors, expelling dangerous beams the entire way. Mega Man must maneuver himself carefully between the beams as he navigates the obstacles and enemies. Compounding this is the fact that beams contacting certain receptacles produces an additional pattern of surrounding beams in rhythmic fashion. It’s a spectacle of platforming tribulation that ultimately feels really good to conquer as you progress. Impact Man’s construction-themed stage (home to Mettaurs presumably?) is also memorable, especially when the drills go flying to and fro from any direction (a near necessary application for the Speed Gear).
Perhaps the most unpredictable environment is that of Torch Man: a campground. Blasting tents sometimes reveals hiding enemies, and lantern birds follow you through the overwhelmingly dark environments (if destroyed, similar to in Shadow Man’s stage in Mega Man 3, out go the lights). There are also a few sequences where you’re chased by a wall of fire (not unlike the Block Man grinder sequence you probably recall from the demo)—again, a great use of Speed Gear, though it isn’t required.
The worst level? With very little hesitation I’d point to Bounce Man. Think trampoline park minus the ability to stop jumping and plus dozens of annoying enemies ranging from bouncing balls to turrets. I have little doubt that the stage will be divisive in its appeal; others will probably cite it at the opposite end of the list. For me, it’s my personal Bad Place, and surely what the Architects would have designed to torment me for all of eternity.
Boss Battles quite frankly exceed expectations, all of them featuring multiple segments that are sometimes wildly different. As usual, Speed Gear is most applicable of all during these sequences, which are best approached like those of a fighting game. For those less enamored with such comparisons, however, don’t forget that you can just as easily research the optimal “boss order” to take out most of the robot masters with minimal effort using the weapons they’re weak against.
While individual levels are certainly longer than normal in length (and all of them feature mid-bosses to boot), the campaign itself might prove a bit disappointing to those who have grown accustomed to the above-and-beyond bonus content employed by most Mega Man games since 3. In Mega Man 11, there’s only eight stages followed by Wily’s Castle, and the castle isn’t any longer than the usual—3 stages plus the end boss content. There’s no Dr. Cossack, or ghost stages, or Dr. X, or Dark Man, or any of that sort of stuff.
Instead, MM11 breaks out a bit of additional content into an “Extras” menu outside of the adventure. This menu features a number of challenges sorted into different categories (think Time Attack, grabbing “medals”, and so on). The final one is called Dr. Light’s Trial, which apparently is comprised of 30 different mini-challenges. It unlocks one final challenge if you complete it, but your humble editor didn’t have the expertise (or the time) to undertake this, so what precisely that is I can’t say. What I can say is that the challenge is ridiculously hard. Scores can be posted to online leaderboards, of course.
One area in which MM11 does relent is the modernization of its presentation. In some ways this is good: for instance, the opening cut scenes fit in perfectly with the rest of the series, and the voice acting during the in-game (occasional) cut scenes is actually really good in that Saturday Morning Cartoon sort of way (which happens to be perfectly appropriate). Wily in particular sounds exactly as he should—so kudos to the English voice actor who managed his persona.
Enhanced by its 60 fps fluidity, the action is a sight to behold. The character designs and animations fit the universe, and while it’s easy to be trepidatious regarding the effects of the visual shift on the feel of the action, rest assured that the gameplay is thoroughly familiar. Our robotic hero controls just as responsibly as he did in his 8-bit days.
It’s unfortunate that the same can’t be said of the musical presentation. Mega Man is called Rockman in Japan for a reason: music is a huge part of the game’s legacy. Sure, the NES was saddled with incredibly basic audio tech, but the primitive brushstrokes of square and triangle waves nevertheless coalesced into unmistakable works of art in early Mega Man games, generally approximating melodic rock and jazz. In later installments, we also saw a transition into some electronica as well—but even then, infectious, melodic, and often complex composition remained a cornerstone of the audio design.
This isn’t to say that Mega Man 11’s soundtrack is bad—but it absolutely lacks the timelessness and staying power of that of most of its predecessors, and even Mega Man 9’s recent 8-bit tracks. Part of it is certainly a reduction of compositional complexity, and part of it is a departure from the musical genres that have long defined Mega Man games. But sadly, there’s also a palpable lack of inspiration. Only a couple of tunes stand out as truly great, and unlike those of MM1–9, MM11’s themes will soon after its release be forgotten.
Hopefully the same fate won’t befall the greater adventure as a whole, and it’s safe to say that if the gods of gaming are indeed good, then we should expect to see further installments in this longstanding staple of action/platforming entertainment. Sure, we’d love to have been treated to a deeper or lengthier adventure in Mega Man 11—not to mention a more memorable soundtrack—but its successes are proof that modernized applications of the classic blueprint can still yield irresistible results.
