Features
Missed Shot: No Case for Need for Speed: The Run
How does EA Black Box’s final Need for Speed title, Need for Speed: The Run, stack up against the rest of the series, and the genre as a whole?
How does EA Black Box’s final Need for Speed title, Need for Speed: The Run, stack up against the rest of the series, and the genre as a whole?
I grew up on Need for Speed. I played the first ten games, from Road & Track Presents: The Need for Speed up to Need for Speed: Carbon, before dipping out of the series in the latter half of the 2000s as the franchise stalled with a string of mediocrely reviewed entries.
The critical resurgence of the series under Criterion Games with their reboots of Hot Pursuit and Most Wanted deserve all praise. Despite sometimes being unfairly labeled as Burnout games with the Need for Speed moniker, the racing games under Criterion and Ghost Games (yes, even the self-titled 2015 Need for Speed) far offset the other junk releases of the series post-Carbon. Outside the games developed by Criterion and Ghost, these miscellaneous Need for Speed entries have largely been forgotten. Nevertheless, I felt compelled to try Need for Speed: The Run, EA Black Box’s final project in the franchise, given its odd narrative setup of a mad cross-country sprint.
Although hoping to discover an under-appreciated game deserving of a second shot, what I instead discovered was a missed opportunity for the series bogged down by blatant flaws and narrative shorthand. This column isn’t defending the game – as is usual for my Second Shot series – but reappraising it from a new perspective nearly six years later. By no means is The Run a good racing game, but it’s one of Need for Speed’s most offbeat efforts, and its flaws can teach us something useful in what video games value and cast aside.
Like EA Black Box’s previous game Need for Speed: Undercover, The Run attempts to expand racing game formulae with a generic crime storyline overlaid atop familiar driving gameplay. However, the developer’s endeavours to introduce features such as on-foot quick time events and encounters with armed enemies only connect the game with cheap, B-tier action/crime titles and away from the series’ racing game heritage. Unwieldy quick time events where protagonist Jack Rourke leaps across rooftops or driving sequences dodging enemy helicopters and SUV pursuers are overblown and ridiculous, suggesting that EA Black Box only aspires for unexceptional crime action undifferentiated from bargain bin junk.
The Run contains a barely sketched-in story that the developers don’t care about, but antagonists and Mafioso intrigue arbitrarily reappear during lulls in racing, with enemies begrudgingly raining down gunfire upon the player’s car mid-race. These action sequences support the game’s vague plot involving a vague debt that Jack must repay to a vague antagonist who we barely see in a vague opening cutscene devoid of context. The unfortunate story and insistence on bland crime action bogs down a decent experiment in point-to-point racing outside the more bloated efforts of Undercover or ProStreet.
Need for Speed: The Run begins not by controlling a car, but a person. The aforementioned Jack Rourke must evade the clutches of the mob in a crime storyline lifted out of something like Gone in 60 Seconds (the Jerry Bruckheimer version, specifically). Mad Men actress Christina Hendricks serves as your earworm throughout the story, playing Jack’s confidant Sam Harper who negotiates business deals and provides coolly detached, GPS-like racing voiceover much like Jules de Jongh’s work narrating races in those of Criterion Games. In about five minutes flat, the game establishes these two main characters, the central debt conflict, the main storyline, and the eponymous race.
Jack must dash 3000 miles across the United States from San Francisco to New York City against over 200 other drivers in order to collect a neat paycheck to buy his freedom. This speediness isn’t a testament to Need for Speed: The Run’s narrative economy, but to the scant writing and flimsy setup that structures the rest of the story. While it may be severe to pick on the merits and flaws of a racing game story, comparable big-budget entertainment outside video games like the Fast and Furious movies or the Initial D anime reflect the possibility for satisfying racing narratives, and video games ought to be examined under a similar lens.
And how do racing games tell stories? My favorite series, Forza Horizon, filters the contexts for racing through a music and automotive festival. The lyrical opening cutscene of Forza Horizon 2 interweaves the mood, imagery, and textures of electronic dance music (EDM) culture to convey a sense of full sensory escapism, evoking hazy drug trips at a rave or late summer festivals. The Midnight Club series and the 2015 Need for Speed, loosely modelled after the Underground games, depict the player as an amateur driver immersed into the culture of illegal street racing, encountering miscellaneous racers alongside a curated aesthetic of hip-hop and electronic music, car customization, and nighttime urban spaces.
Need for Speed: The Run shares its story and namesake with the notorious Cannonball Baker (or Cannonball Run) cross-country race via the United States Interstate during the 1970s. However, The Run shies away from fully embracing the conceit of racing on a countrywide scale by necessitating players to pass a certain number of cars before reaching an arbitrary finish line on the Interstate in order to continue staying qualified for the run. By segmenting the race with these individual events separated by loading screens, The Run divides the full breadth of the trip into small, digestible races even though players could foreseeably pass rival cars at a later point in the game. The game is thus scripted in such a way where passing the 150th racer can only occur in Las Vegas because it’s a boss battle. If only the game were more honest with its scripted nature devoid of the pretense of the “openness” of a long drive, Need for Speed: The Run would at least benefit by not undermining expectations of a seamless road trip.
This lack of a unified experience is easily the biggest problem with Need for Speed: The Run. Since the game is split into discrete events, the game abstracts the geographical scale of a countrywide race. Reward/XP screens at the end of each event break up the forward continuity of the grander run with meaningless points and flashy animations, eliminating any sense of momentum. Moreover, by allowing players to seamlessly switch between different cars in their inventory by passing through gas stations scattered throughout the map, no forged relationship emerges with a specific car. The game also relies on ellipses that abstract the natural progression of the American landscape. In no time at all does Jack reach Yosemite from San Francisco, and the entire prairie midsection of the United States is reduced to a single sequence when in reality could comprise the bulk of a cross-country trip. The game shifts drivers towards the winding scenic sections of American roadways such as the Altamont Pass, even though the Interstate system is largely comprised of straight and long roads devoid of scenery.
These earthy, flat expanses of field and farmland are occasionally set to the game’s commendable blues-rock soundtrack from artists like The Brian Jonestown Massacre, Gary Clark Jr., and Canned Heat, evoking heartland radio stations along Route 66. However, The Run all-too frequently defers to a bland orchestral score for the duration of the game, casting aside licensed music for select sequences and not providing an ongoing playlist. The lack of an engaging soundtrack would benefit from better rapport between Jack and Sam, but the game fails to play off on the inevitable boredom of a long drive. Christina Hendricks is a talented actress, but rather than feed her lighthearted banter as an offscreen passenger, the game merely uses her as a vessel for relaying objectives: “need to make up some time, Jack.”
Instead, the game fills in downtime with its incomprehensible story of repaying mob debts that is neither adequately established nor fully resolved, remaining a burdensome flaw that lingers and reappears throughout the drive. The few sequences evading the mob are profoundly absurd, including one in which the protagonist plows through a burning factory littered with exploding red barrels, only to jump the car through glass windows to take out an attack helicopter midair. These Michael Bay-esque flourishes clash in tone with the racing portions of the game and can be excised completely. The main antagonist barely matters either, because it’s unclear by the epilogue of the game if Jack is fully forgiven by the mafia or if his troubles are only temporarily delayed.
Even the other racers are barely present in the story, with only two female racers receiving a cutscene (but only so the game can indulge in prepubescent male gaze as Jack ogles them from a distance). If Need for Speed: The Run weren’t so cynical in its writing and embraced goofiness and enthusiasm like the underrated 2015 Need for Speed reboot could the game actually be endearing. At the very least, the game’s runtime is whispery brief, lasting only about four hours, with the drive itself only totaling around two hours minus the numerous restarts and loading screens.
What Need for Speed: The Run ultimately feels like is a contemporary reworking of arcade cabinet racers like Cruis’n USA. Unlike track-based games like Burnout Revenge or open-world expanses like The Crew, The Run values an authored, linear experience trimmed of excess. Its tightness is commendable in a sea of overstuffed video games, recalling the original Need for Speed game’s emphasis on point-to-point racing in a variety of settings. The gorgeous Frostbite 2 engine certainly helps in establishing a vibrant world of rain-slicked roads snaking underneath waterfalls and backwoods turnpikes blanketed by yellow and orange leaves along the Savage River State Forest.
The game excels as a series of set pieces, including a police chase along the outskirts of Las Vegas in shadowy dusk and a spectacular mountainside descent during an avalanche before the exit tunnel is sealed off by snow. These high stakes moments are what make the game worth playing, but so much of The Run is saturated with the filler of humdrum racing.
Still, a worthwhile point lingers in the mind: driving across the United States is a tedious affair and doesn’t make for thrilling action gameplay. The Game Informer review upon Need for Speed: The Run’s release argues, “San Francisco to New York is a long haul, and it’s even longer when not enough happens in between,” but perhaps the monotonous reality of a road trip could be worthwhile in the right hands.
Driving long distances may not be suitable for a Bruckheimer/Bay-style blockbuster, but it can produce thoughtful stories like Little Miss Sunshine. Perhaps a different kind of driving game is necessary; not a fast-paced racing game, but games such as Wheels of Aurelia or Kentucky Route Zero. While the blockbuster demands of the Need for Speed franchise would never yield that kind of slower, observational gameplay, they represent the artful direction driving games can take in pushing the medium forward.
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Features
An idiot’s guide to Crusader Kings 3
Crusader Kings 3 might be good, but it’s the astonishing stories the game produces that have been the real hit. So, naturally intrigued, we sent an idiot to do a king’s job.
Crusader Kings 3 might be good, but it’s the astonishing stories the game produces that have been the real hit. So, naturally intrigued, we sent an idiot to do a king’s job.
About two years ago, I decided it was high time I got myself a shiny new gaming PC. While I’d brushed shoulders with the console riffraff for years, I figured – now I was an esteemed video game journalist – it was time to join the ranks of the PC enthusiasts. (Who would, no doubt, be very welcoming and not at all snobbish.) Along with my newfound way of life, I decided to try some acclaimed PC classics, which led me to Crusader Kings 2.
The only problem? Crusader Kings 2 was essentially like sitting through simultaneous rocket science and brain surgery seminars. Who knew medieval nobility were such avid fans of spreadsheets? And why do I have to micromanage my bid to disinherit my son because he’s ugly? In the end, I managed to last a respectable 20 minutes with the Crusader Kings franchise – a feat I was, understandably, immensely proud of.
That was until two weeks ago, when a third Crusader Kings was unleashed unto the world and strategy fans everywhere started posting impassioned threads about the logistics of their absurdist, nudist dynasties.
“Say no more,” I heartily announced. “I shall return to Crusader Kings with my two years of PC gaming credentials.” I can reveal that I did just that, and the experiences I have brought home will be sung about by tavern bards for centuries to come.
It is with this revelation that I can introduce thee to an Idiot’s Guide to Crusader Kings 3!
“Wales was unfortunately captured by nudist Spaniards within a matter of months”
Embarking on my first conquest, I did what all rational lieges do when challenged by a densely packed, comprehensive strategy experience. I pressed the big “skip tutorial” button the first chance I got and, armed with my enhanced political and tactical knowledge, founded a new dynasty. As many might not know, I was actually born and raised in the beautiful lands of Wales. Who better to lead the proud nation of Cymru than its greatest creation?
One tiny problem did emerge, though. Back in the good ole days of 867 AD, three men ruled Wales: Lord Rhodri, Lord Gwgan, and my eventual in-game surrogate, Lord Hywel Ap Rhys. I quickly learned that I’d have to get busy if I ever wanted to take my true place as the Welsh king, and that meant knocking off some of the competition.
It didn’t take me long to realise that Lord Gwgan was the weakest link of our little trio. He held the smallest land, had the ugliest son and, frankly, his unironic bowl cut offended me. So, I decided to declare war on him and see where it went. I can’t say it was the most tactical affair – I literally just sent 1,000 men to oust him from his castle – but somehow I triumphed over the mighty Gwgan and his bowl cut, gaining myself a tasty morsel of land.
With this victory under my belt, I decided next I’d get myself into bed with Lord Rhodri, marrying my heir to his oldest daughter. For some ungodly reason he accepted, and our houses were unified under one beautiful banner. I also figured I’d seduce his wife, thus forming the mother of all pincer movements as I got closer to wiping poor Rhodri off the map. Bafflingly, this also worked, but that’s not to say it went off without a hitch. My second-born son Owain uncovered my genius political plays after I’d drunkenly blabbed them at a feast, and boy, he was not happy.
One year later and, while fighting a brutal war with one of the Irish lords, he’s blackmailing me into replacing my battle-hardened field marshal with him. I buckled and Owain – a boy with about as much military knowledge as Dora the Explorer and a face that looked like a cherry tomato – was commanding my forces. We lost that war, and things only got worse when an army of Spanish nudists decided to dominate England before turning their attention to the west. I can’t believe I’m writing this, but Wales was unfortunately captured by nudist Spaniards within a matter of months.
Not to worry though, I decided my talents were truly wasted on Owain and the now-indecent countryside of Wales. Instead, I’d venture to the wide lands of Africa and stake my claim there.
“Toro eventually became a Ugandan province, but Jim got a nice trip to the beach”
This time, I took up the role of Farbas Bannu of Toro. You see, when Bannu and I met, he was depicted as an honest, wise, and just liege. He openly cared more about family than conflict. Unfortunately, Owain had taught me that nice guys finish last, and I soon turned sweet Bannu into a feared warlord whose name inspired dread.
There was just one catch: Bannu’s kind nature didn’t exactly agree with my cold-blooded need to amass new lands. You see, in Crusader Kings 3, your avatar is overwhelmed by stress when you push the boundaries of their moral code, and I had long since leapt over that boundary and was frolicking in the dark recesses of Bannu’s mind. In turn, he succumbed to drink and then to food; he eventually started lashing out at his family and locking himself away in his tower. By the time he was 55, poor Bannu kicked the bucket due to obesity, splitting the vast lands of Toro between his nine children.
I took over as the heir to the Toro dynasty, Koba, who to my joy, was a much dastardlier protagonist than his deceased father. Not only was he evil at heart, but he also held the “sadistic” trait, meaning our goals were almost perfectly aligned. Problem number one was that Bannu’s decision to share his kingdom between all his kids meant Koba’s bratty younger sister, Hawa, had decided to go independent. She’d created her own kingdom to the east – and at 12 years old too, she’s definitely getting on the Forbes under 30 list – leaving Koba to forcibly remove her from the map.
With that done, Koba set about continuing his father’s mission. He married three women, had 10 children, and soon became the mighty Faama of Toro. The only problem was the colossal nation of Uganda that sat above him, and I soon realised that he’d have to ally with this great foe to succeed. Thus began Koba’s new mission to marry into the Ugandan bloodline, which, with a lot of murder and bribery, he managed to accomplish.
The communion of Koba and the Ugandan princess Malika was a storied one, and soon they conceived two children. But all was secretly not well within this fragile alliance. It didn’t take long to discover that Malika had been cheating on Koba – pipe in the Corrie theme in your heads guys – with his own brother! Scandalous, I know. There was nothing for it. The pair had to be executed for their heinous, soap-opera cliff-hanger of a crime, and Koba was happy to oblige.
All things considered, I probably should’ve thought about how the whole “dead daughter” thing might look to the Ugandan king. With no alliance in place, war broke out. Now, while I’d love to tell you Koba died heroically on the battlefield, bravely defending the honour he lost when Malika lay with his own brother, he actually just died of gout… which, uh, was anti-climactic, I’ll say that much.
He was then succeeded by his son and the next great Faamu of Toro: Jim. I’ll admit, I’d just gotten back from the pub when I granted such a lofty name to the rightful heir to the Toro throne, but after you hear his story, such an uninspiring name feels appropriate. Essentially, Jim was in a bit of a pickle. Uganda’s invading, Koba’s vassals hate him, and he’s deemed a sinner by the church for conceiving a child out of wedlock. So, his solution? Go on a 3-year pilgrimage and let fate do the rest. Needless to say, Toro eventually became a Ugandan province, but Jim got a nice trip to the beach, so it wasn’t all bad…
Through these two epic tales, I hope I have imparted some worthy knowledge. Firstly, that Crusader Kings 3 is an exceptional strategy sim that strips away the soulless conquests of the genre and puts engaging, naturally evolving character interactions at the forefront. It’s involving for all the same reasons Game of Thrones became such a cultural landmark – it shows that politics, people and the subtle underhanded warfare of diplomacy can be so much more engaging than the clashing of steel.
But, more importantly, I hope it revealed that I’m perhaps the most skilled general and politician this side of Toro. When Geoff Keighley and his army of weaponised World Premieres rise up and overthrow our governments, forcing us to rebuild – and trust me, they will – you’ll know where to find me.
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Enjoyed this article?
Found it interesting, entertaining, useful, or informative? Maybe it even saved you some money. That's great to hear! Sadly, independent publishing is struggling worse than ever, and Thumbsticks is no exception. So please, if you can afford to, consider supporting us via Patreon or buying us a coffee.
Features
It’s frankly obnoxious how big the PlayStation 5 and Xbox Series X are
Have you ever stopped and thought about just how bloody big the PlayStation 5 and Xbox Series X are? It’s obnoxious. That’s what it is.
Have you ever stopped and thought about just how bloody big the PlayStation 5 and Xbox Series X are? It’s obnoxious. That’s what it is.
Over the weekend, a bunch of scale mockups appeared of the PlayStation 5 and Xbox Series X on Twitter. They’re cute and fun pictures, but what they show is not comfortable to look at.
The first batch – all of these are by Twitter user and character artist Kei Sawada – shows how the PlayStation 5 will stack up against a Nintendo Switch, a small figure of a pumpkin and a ghost, and a 30″ television (including feet/stand).
PS5を置いた時のサイズ感をモデリングしてみた。 pic.twitter.com/mIgOEP3xZn
— 澤田圭(ｷｬﾗｸﾀｰﾃﾞｻﾞｲﾅｰ) (@keisawada) September 20, 2020
The beauty of making these 3D models is that they can be moved, manipulated and adjusted as required. So the next logical stage was to add a PlayStation 4 into the mix, to see just how much bigger the PS5 is than its older sibling.
初代PS4（275×53×305mm）も並べてみました pic.twitter.com/hdx65Cungd
— 澤田圭(ｷｬﾗｸﾀｰﾃﾞｻﾞｲﾅｰ) (@keisawada) September 20, 2020
Pretty big, I think you’ll agree. But what about when you lie the PlayStation 5 on its side? Is it any less ridiculous?
PS5横置きしてみた pic.twitter.com/MjuYOlGfZG
— 澤田圭(ｷｬﾗｸﾀｰﾃﾞｻﾞｲﾅｰ) (@keisawada) September 20, 2020
No. If anything, it’s more ridiculous laid on its side, sitting on that little circular foot. It looks like it’s on a tiny Lazy Susan, a futuristic white train on a too-small turntable.
But this all feels like we’re bashing the design of the PS5 specifically, doesn’t it? Does it make the PlayStation 5 look any less massive when it’s compared to the Xbox Series X?
Xbox Series S(275x151x63.5mm)も置いてみた。 pic.twitter.com/C1K4mIOHBA
— 澤田圭(ｷｬﾗｸﾀｰﾃﾞｻﾞｲﾅｰ) (@keisawada) September 20, 2020
Slightly. But at least the Xbox Series X is a somewhat regular shape, if a bit square. (And of course, the Xbox Series S is the only one of the bunch that you could comfortably fit under your telly. It’s a diminutive hero in a rogue’s gallery of titans.)
大きなテレビとPS4のパッケージを並べてみました。 pic.twitter.com/wxan3xe5ic
— 澤田圭(ｷｬﾗｸﾀｰﾃﾞｻﾞｲﾅｰ) (@keisawada) September 20, 2020
And finally, for good measure, here are all the next-gen consoles placed near various sizes of television, from the original 30″ screen – which is basically the same height as the PS5 – right the way through to a 50″ panel. And another pumpkin figurine. And a handful of PS4 game boxes. And a cartoon cat, obviously.
The scale of the problem
What does all this mean? Well, it means I’m not sad for missing out on the pre-orders for the PlayStation 5 or Xbox Series X, for one thing. (When I say “missing out” I mean to say that I didn’t even try. We have a baby on the way a week before the release of the new consoles, so I will have neither the time nor the finances, but I’m sure the FOMO will hit soon enough.)
The jokes about the big, square Xbox Series X, that it looked like a fridge freezer – it all seemed ridiculous. That Microsoft would bring out a console that big, that you’d struggle to fit under your living room TV, it felt daft. It’s basically a mass-market custom gaming PC in a mid-sized tower case, which is a brilliant value proposition but still, tough to live with on a daily basis.
Then Sony said, “hold my beer,” and unveiled the PlayStation 5.
It’s almost as wide as the Xbox Series X. It is almost twice as deep. It is about a quarter taller. And the PlayStation fanboys mocked the Xbox for looking like (and being as big as) a fridge! The PS5 looks like the world’s biggest internet router, but instead of hiding it in a cupboard, Sony thinks you’ll put it under your television. Well, if you have an entertainment stand that the damn thing could fit into, which I certainly don’t.
Let me tell you: I struggled with the Nintendo Switch, and that’s tiny. The fact that you can’t lie the Switch dock down on its side, that I can’t put it under my TV where consoles are supposed to go, is so inconvenient to me. The Switch dock sits behind my 55″ TV because there’s nowhere else I could put it – save for collecting dust and cat hairs on the floor – where the Switch wouldn’t be obscuring the screen. Occasionally there are issues with the JoyCons pairing because of the interference (caused by all the other devices) between the Switch and the sofa. I have to reach over the top of my telly to dock and undock the Switch; my wife’s arms aren’t even long enough to do it! It’s such a pain for an otherwise incredibly convenient console.
The answer seems obvious, doesn’t it? The Xbox Series S, the Series X’s diminutive little brother, seems like the right choice. You get the benefit of Xbox’s backwards compatibility and Game Pass stance, its next-generation power, and it’s actually smaller than the previous generation’s Xbox One S. You certainly can’t argue with the value of the Xbox Series S. It offers an entry into gaming, with a brand new console in a new generation, at a price not seen since the PlayStation and N64 era. (And that’s not adjusted for inflation, by the way.)
But there are a couple of compromises with the Xbox Series S that are causes of concern.
There’s that 512GB hard drive, for one thing. It isn’t tiny by any stretch, but as the size of games grows forever larger – and with no disc drive meaning everything needs to be downloaded and installed – it could quickly become a pinch point.
And then there’s the lack of native 4K output. Again, that might not be an issue for some on an entry-level console, but I’ve already got a 4K telly. It seems daft, almost wasteful, to be buying a next-generation games console that won’t make the most of it.
So where does that leave me?
I’m not really sure, to be honest. If I throw away all the other consoles under my telly, I can probably just fit an Xbox Series X in there. (While an Xbox Series S would be an easy, straight replacement for the Xbox One S, but those slight niggles are holding me back.)
The PlayStation 5, on the other hand, is never going to fit, and with the all-digital version practically the same size (just without a disc drive) that isn’t going to help, either. And before anyone says it, getting a new entertainment unit isn’t an option as it matches the rest of the living room set.
So where does that leave me?
Let’s be honest: it’s never ideal to be an early adopter of any new technology and games consoles are rarely any different. There are almost always teething problems and false starts and a lack of compelling software, so maybe it’s better waiting. But how long do you wait? Microsoft promises its games will be cross-generational for years to come, but the fate of PlayStation and third-party titles is less clear cut.
I think what I’m really asking for is the mid-generation, “slim” refreshes of the Xbox Series X and PlayStation 5, that offer all the same power and features but in a more sensible chassis. But given both console makers are already offering “lighter” versions of their consoles, right at the start of the generation? I might be waiting a while.
Waiting. Looking at those obnoxiously big consoles. Wishing I could have one, but knowing they won’t fit in my living room. Resenting them.
Stupid, Brobdingnagian monstrosities.
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Features
The 3D Super Mario games ranked, from worst to best
As Super Mario 3D All-Stars comes to the Nintendo Switch, we take a look back at the long and varied history of Mario’s adventures in three dimensions.
As Super Mario 3D All-Stars comes to the Nintendo Switch, we take a look back at the long and varied history of Mario’s adventures in three dimensions.
Super Mario 3D All-Stars might not be the celebration of Mario that many fans wanted, but there’s no denying the quality of the games it includes. Each one has its fans – even Super Mario Sunshine – but how to do they rank among Mario’s other 3D exploits?
Here is our official ranking, ordered from worst to best.
7. Super Mario Sunshine
Well, this is a rare pleasure, a ranked list of video games in which there are no absolute stinkers. That said, it’s probably no surprise to see Super Mario Sunshine as the first entry.
Despite its flaws, Super Mario Sunshine only sits seventh place because of the high quality of the titles that surround it. Its problems are well documented: the camera can be a nightmare, some of the character design is dreadful, and the fiddly blue coin quests overstay their welcome.
But, there is so much to like. Delfino Isle is a wonderful, secret-filled playground. The swoonsome music and balmy holiday tone is a delight. And consider the flawed but fun FLUDD mechanics, which have subsequently influenced Splatoon, the Zelda series, and Super Mario Odyssey. Sunshine is the weakest 3D Mario game, sure, but it’s still full to bursting with wild ideas and concepts. And, of course, it has that adorable rideable Yoshi.
6. Super Mario 3D Land
Although positioned in the lower reaches of this list, Super Mario 3D Land can comfortably lay claim to being the best handheld Mario game ever made. Alongside Mario Kart 7, it helped to revive the fortunes of the stumbling Nintendo 3DS, proving that the device was capable of delivering immersive and fresh experiences.
On release, 3D Land felt like a slimline version of Super Mario Galaxy, but in retrospect, it’s clearly the first title in a third tier of 3D Mario games. In contrast to the open sandboxes of Super Mario 64 and Sunshine, or the kaleidoscopic planet-hopping of the Galaxy series, the game takes a more controlled approach. With a wealth of levels to explore, 3D Land’s bite-sized structure is closest to NES classic, Super Mario Bros 3. The result is a joyous game that will forever remain the franchise’s best portable-only excursion.
5. Super Mario Galaxy
One of Super Mario Galaxy‘s greatest achievements is how effortlessly it surpasses the constraints under which it was made. Developed for Nintendo’s breakout – but relatively low-powered – Wii console, the game had to both improve on its flawed predecessor, and make complex three-dimensional gaming accessible to the console’s casual audience. It also had to do it using an idiosyncratic control scheme that swapped sticks and buttons for motion and pointer controls.
Super Mario Galaxy achieves all of these things with ease. The game’s emphasis on spherical worlds removes the reliance on a user-controlled camera and keeps the moustachioed plumber centre-stage at all times. The sandbox structure of Mario 64 and Sunshine is replaced by a series of increasingly elaborate and carefully constructed miniature worlds to negotiate.
An abundance of gameplay ideas display a refreshed enthusiasm from Nintendo, with Yoshiaki Koizumi’s team flexing their creative muscles with new power-ups, enemies, and gravity-bending platforming. Combined with sumptuous visuals and a triumphant, orchestral score, Super Mario Galaxy is a giddying adventure from start to finish.
4. Super Mario 3D World
Ranking Super Mario 3D World above Super Mario Galaxy may prove contentious. The game may not be as recklessly inventive as Mario’s Wii adventure, but it’s a masterclass in the art of 3D platforming. 3D World is a more measured outing, but this allows for every block, platform, and jump to be crafted and polished with scientific precision.
The game is equally enjoyable played solo, or in multiplayer with up to three friends. And Cat Mario is an elegant – and often hilarious – way for younger or less skilled players to keep pace. Super Mario 3D World also looks glorious, with a chunky, toys-to-life consistency that is lacking from the next game in this list. And let’s not forget that one of its finest achievements was spun off into its own game with Captain Toad: Treasure Tracker.
3. Super Mario Odyssey
Super Mario Odyssey is the toughest game to place on this list. Its biggest achievement is not the level design, or its cap-based transformations – although they are all quite wonderful – but its generosity. Every corner of the game rewards experimentation, risk, exploration, and curiosity.
Super Mario Odyssey charts an expansive – and often overwhelming – new direction for the series, but it also doffs its cap to those that came before it. On at least two occasions, a nod to the past brought a tear to my eye. At all other times, I was grinning from ear to ear. It’s an amazing experience and capped (pardon the pun) a wonderful launch year for the Nintendo Switch.
2. Super Mario 64
If you wanted to put Super Mario 64 at the top of this list, it would be hard to argue. Much of what we take for granted in the series – and 3D game design in general – debuted here. Like many titles of the era, it can feel rough around the edges, but its ideas still feel fresh, playful and creative.
Having refined the art of 2D platforming with Super Mario World and Yoshi’s Island, fans might have expected Super Mario 64 to be a cautious first step into three dimensions. But no, its a supremely confident long jump, followed by a ground pound to mark the game’s place in history.
1. Super Mario Galaxy 2
On paper Super Mario Galaxy 2 has the simplest brief of all the games on this list: make more of the same. Using the core concepts introduced Super Mario Galaxy, Koizumi and his team expand upon that template, and then some.
Gameplay mechanics and ideas that could easily be the foundation of entire games are introduced, chewed up, and disposed of with abandon. The variety is astonishing. Each course is a memorable test of mental mettle and physical athleticism. Each power-up is a delight. Each boss is a thrilling, fast-paced puzzle to solve.
In its post-credits end game, Galaxy 2 is also one of the most demanding, and fulfilling, platformers Nintendo has ever created. Super Mario Galaxy 2 is where Nintendo’s talents in design, artistic expression, and desire to entertain all come together. It’s Mario’s best ever game, and its omission from Super Mario 3D All-Stars is baffling.
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Features
Tabula Rasa: In defence of the amnesiac video game protagonist
It’s a trope so overused it borders on cliché, but perhaps the amnesiac protagonist route is so well-trodden precisely because it is so effective?
It’s a trope so overused it borders on cliché, but perhaps the amnesiac protagonist route is so well-trodden precisely because it is so effective?
Plato theorised that we are all born with all the knowledge in the world – we simply need to remember it. Marie Antionette once said, “There is nothing new except what has been forgotten.”
Playing with memory and memory loss is a staple of media, and always has been. In The Madness of Hercules by the ancient Greek poet, Euripides, the hero is gripped with madness and can’t remember his own family. In this crazed state, he murders them all and must make amends by undertaking his famous 12 labours. In film it’s been used in every genre – from action movies like Total Recall to romcoms like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
Amnesia is also an absolute staple of soap operas – the Australian mainstay of Neighbours uses it frequently. One famous example was in 2002 when fan-favourite Susan slipped on some spilt milk (queue obvious jokes) and lost 3 decades worth of memories. That other beloved form of soap opera, wrestling, also uses amnesia. In 1993 Cactus Jack was powerbombed by Big Van Vader into the concrete floor of the stadium. The character was institutionalised, eventually escaping his mental hospital and developing amnesia before eventually returning to the ring.
Video games are no exception to this ancient trend – and though amnesia plotlines have a reputation for being lazy and schlocky, I am here to defend them. So from Hercules to Cactus Jack to Link – what makes memory loss and retrieval so appealing?
Let’s start with Monument Valley. This British app-game won a Bafta in 2015 for Best British Game. It’s deceptively simple – you must twist and turn the Escher-inspired architecture to navigate the beautiful and geometric landscapes. But as we progress through the first level we are told that Princess Ida must return all the Sacred Geometry that she’s stolen. Just like Hercules, Ida must undertake her own series of labour. We follow Ida on her emotional journey – the shame of discovering her crime, the loneliness of the empty cities, the fear of the antagonistic crows and eventually the joy of redemption and release.
In 1922 Proust wrote In Search of Lost Time, which includes his famous “madeleine moment”:
“No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me […] And suddenly the memory revealed itself. The taste was that of the little piece of madeleine which on Sunday mornings […] my aunt Léonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of tea or tisane. The sight of the little madeleine had recalled nothing to my mind before I tasted it. And all from my cup of tea.”
This hugely evocative moment has been referenced and resurrected many times – most famously in the Pixar movie, Ratatouille, where the food critic Anton Ego is instantly transported back to his rural childhood with just one bite of the eponymous dish.
Old Man’s Journey, like Monument Valley, is another literal voyage into memory and emotion. Like Proust with his madeleines, the player character of this game has memories periodically triggered as you traverse the dreamy landscape. We all know this feeling – a long-forgotten memory that floods our minds, transporting us into a past moment. (As Proust said: “And suddenly the memory revealed itself”.)
This game perfectly represents that feeling. The memory washes over the screen, the sounds and colours so evocative of the past moment. But it is also fixed and nearly static, a fragment we can recall but can’t interact with. As Proust was in search of lost time, so is the main character in Old Man’s Journey. We already know where he has ended up – old and alone on the sea shore – but as we walk with him we uncover that lost time and what has come before.
The Legend of Zelda is one of the most well-recognised legacy properties in the games world. But significantly we know it as Zelda, and it’s her name we remember, even as we take up another game to play as Link. Link is left deliberately blank so that we can project ourselves into him. Scott McCloud, in his excellent book Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art, he writes: “When you look at a photo or realistic drawing of a face, you see it as the face of another. But when you enter the world of the cartoon , you see yourself.”
The blankness of Link, the simplicity of the sketched out person, leaves room for projection. Enter: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild.
This is Link at his most blank, most characterless. As the game begins he is stripped of even his iconic outfit – as well as all of his memories. Even the marketing of the game plays into this, the website stating: “Forget everything you know about The Legend of Zelda games”. Forget what came before, just as Link has.
Gradually he recovers his identity, his memories, even the landscape opens up and unfolds before him as he recovers memories. Critically we, the player, build our skills, knowledge and identity alongside Link. This mirroring leverages an enormous emotional payout at the game’s conclusion – good friends of mine wept at the close of Breath of the Wild.
Amnesia used in clumsy hands can be silly and schlocky. But when the rediscovery of memory is used with skill, it builds the closest of relationships between the player and the player character. The Tabula Rasa – or blank tablet – of the character allows us to project ourselves onto them. We discover the past and personality, abilities and history of the PC at the exact moment as the character themselves. We might be separated by the screen, but in that moment our minds are as one, the feelings evoked are perfectly in sync.
Roger Ebert once called cinema an “empathy machine” and games have the potential to create just as much, or even more, empathy for our main characters. Through amnesia plots, alongside the device of having us work to discover memories in tandem with the player character, video games are engineering a significant amount of empathy.
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Features
The Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater soundtrack, as told by the bands who made it
The soundtrack of a generation: We spoke to Bad Religion, Consumed, Fu Manchu, Lagwagon, The Suicide Machines, Swingin’ Utters and The Vandals about the impact of Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater.
The soundtrack of a generation: We spoke to Bad Religion, Consumed, Fu Manchu, Lagwagon, The Suicide Machines, Swingin’ Utters and The Vandals about the impact of Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater.
There had been licensed music on video game soundtracks before Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater. With the advent of Sony’s PlayStation, a disc-based system that allowed for full reproductions of songs rather than chiptune melodies, came the inclusion of licensed music.
Gran Turismo, released in late 1997, was one of the first. It featured a somewhat disjointed mix of British rock album fillers, including Ash’s Lose Control, Garbage’s As Heaven is Wide. Not that they’re bad tracks, of course, but why not Kung Fu or Girl From Mars from Ash? Or Stupid Girl or Only When it Rains from Garbage?
The only arguably “big” songs on the Gran Turismo soundtrack are Feeder’s Tangerine (the game also features a bunch of B-sides from the band) and Everything Must Go by Manic Street Preachers. But this rocky iteration of the soundtrack wasn’t even universal; in other countries, like Sony’s native Japan, the game featured a completely different list of tunes.
Meanwhile, the Grand Theft Auto series – most people’s go-to for “good” licensed video game music – didn’t really get its act together on licensed soundtracks until it hit its retro stride, with the 80s disco mix of Grand Theft Auto: Vice City in 2002, and the heady blend of early 90s grunge and hip-hop in Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas in 2004.
And then, slap bang in the middle of those two frames of reference for licensed video game soundtracks, is Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater. It’s the perfect storm of gameplay, music, attitude and style. It’s crammed full of absolute bangers and, on its release in September 1999, fast became the soundtrack of a generation.
POSTER BOYS
I recall seeing Goldfinger at Leeds Festival in 2002. It wasn’t on the main stage, even though other US punk bands – including The Offspring, Weezer, Less Than Jake, and even Sum 41 – got the nod. No, Goldfinger were playing in a tent. It was also two in the afternoon on the first day, while the hungover (or still-drunk, or still-high) masses fought their way from the campsite to the stage area through a literal festival quagmire.
Third on the bill, in a tent, at two in the afternoon, on the first day of the fourth- or fifth-best musical festival in the UK. It was not what you would call an auspicious start.
But Goldfinger had a secret weapon. They still do, 20 years on. It’s a song with enduring popularity and reach that most any band would be jealous of. A song that brings with it a legion of fans and, even better, acts as a conveyor belt to bring in new ones. That song? Superman, the de facto anthem of classic PlayStation game, Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater, released worldwide three years earlier.
I think it was early – maybe I was hungover, or drunk, or high? – but I don’t remember at what point in their set Goldfinger hit the staccato, ska-punk intro to Superman, but the effect was instantaneous and inspiring. A half-empty tent began to fill. The dribble of crowd meandering outside became a torrent. It was as though they had flipped the switch on an enormous electromagnet, attracting every punk, geek, and skater for miles around.
There were, of course, a few gatekeeping grumbles in the crowd, people complaining that the PlayStation generation weren’t “real” fans of Goldfinger. But those dissenting voices were soon crushed under a throbbing mass of jubilation, of far too many people crammed into far too small a space, united in a singular goal: to dance their asses off to the song from Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater.
I really don’t recall much else of that Goldfinger show. It was a delirious blur. I had come dressed for the occasion, in a Superman “costume” cobbled together from a vintage DC Comics t-shirt and some things I had begged, borrowed, or stolen then the night before, and spent pretty much the entire set crowd surfing. At one point, I came together with an inflatable – I think it might have been a rubber dinghy? I have no idea where that came from, or how I collided with it – and was dumped into a crashing heap in front of the stage.
Winded and a little groggy, possibly sporting a concussion, a very kind security guard got me a bottle of water and allowed me to sit on steps on the edge of the stage. I recall singing along to 99 Red Balloons, looking out at the biggest crowd I’ve ever seen crammed into a festival tent.
I’m not saying that Goldfinger owes their success to Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater, of course. They’re a brilliant band with an incredible catalogue and a killer live show. But the positive impact of featuring on that soundtrack is obvious.
And they’re not the only band who saw a shift following the release of Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater.
SIDE A: TONY HAWK’S PRO SKATER
The Vandals, formed in 1980 in California, were part of a burgeoning punk rock scene with the likes of Bad Religion, Black Flag, Suicidal Tendencies and Social Distortion. They signed for Epitaph Records, the Los Angeles label run by Bad Religion’s Brett Gurewitz, in 1982, and the band’s popularity grew.
In 1999, when Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater launched on the PS1 – featuring Euro Barge, from their 1998 album Hitler Bad, Vandals Good – The Vandals had been established for almost two decades. But the impact, even to a group of punk rock veterans, was noticeable.
“We were in our 20s and 30s when the Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater game was released,” Joe Escalante, founder member and bassist of The Vandals, tells me. “Soon we started seeing 8-year-olds at our shows. It took a while, but we finally started asking their parents from stage what they were doing there and they said it was [because of] Tony Hawk.”
The Vandals, along with Primus and punk veterans Dead Kennedys, were the big-name artists on the roster. For a band like The Suicide Machines, however, who had a much smaller fanbase and were by their own admission struggling to make an impact via traditional channels, being on the Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater soundtrack was enormous.
“We were already pretty deep into DIY touring before Tony Hawk Pro Skater and would have a few hundred people at most shows,” vocalist Jason ‘Jay’ Navarro recalls. “We signed to Hollywood Records and they tried pushing our songs No Face and SOS at MTV and radio and it really didn’t work. I swear after the game our shows were packed up to 1000 people a night. It did more for our band then our label did for our band.”
Rumour has it that Tony Hawk himself had a hand in the selection of the bands and tracks. With such a positive impact on the bands involved, it’s yet another story of the good the skating legend has had on the community and the scene as a whole.
“I’m not sure how [it happened], honestly? We were on Warp [the Warped Tour] out West when Tony was on it a few days skating. Maybe he saw us? No clue how that song was chosen. We didn’t pick it,” Navarro tells me, but he is very glad someone did.
“The lyrics [to Euro Barge] are an homage to the pains of touring Europe, that’s why Tony latched on to it,” Escalante says, confirming Hawk’s part in selecting the soundtrack. “He’s paid his dues over there and there are deep cultural differences that all Americans struggle with. The “Euro-Barge” was our term for how Europeans have no problem cutting in lines anywhere. But the song goes on from there, calling them out for all their sins. All in fun, of course!”
The funny thing is, in spite of its popularity among their fans (in no small part due to Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater), The Vandals rarely play Euro Barge live, if at all.
“We hardly ever played the song Euro Barge, maybe because we played the game so much in the tour bus we were sick of hearing it,” Escalante says. “But over the years, even though we seldom play it, it remains the #1, 2, or 3 top-performing song on any list ranking our songs, in sales or streams, etc.”
“The truth is it’s actually hard to play,” he confesses, “because Josh wrote it in this f’d up 7/8 time signature, so we never thought we were getting it exactly right, even though we love the song.”
Not all of the bands we spoke to for this feature played Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater – more on that later – but like Escalante, Navarro remembers it fondly.
“It was a fun game to play,” he says. “Played tons of hours on it. I have been skating since 1985? Or 86. I felt it represented skating well. As far as all spectrums of our culture.”
That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? Neversoft’s Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater was, of course, a very good video game. It plays brilliantly and it captured the sense of freedom that comes with creative skateboarding. But that in itself is not enough. Games don’t get remade, 20 years down the line, unless they’re something truly special.
And Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater was something incredibly special, probably because it fell at the intersection of so many different subcultures, a Venn diagram of things that are so close to overlapping, of punks and skaters and nerds. The soundtrack was a core element of that, stitching together skateboarders and gamers with a fabric of punk rock, with hints of ska, metal and hip-hop.
SIDE B: TONY HAWK’S PRO SKATER 2
With the success of the first Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater, it was inevitable that there would be a sequel. It was also inevitable that the stakes of the soundtrack would be upped. If people thought it was surprising to see anti-establishment punk pioneers Dead Kennedys on the first game’s tracklist, it was a real shock to see Rage Against the Machine’s Guerilla Radio and Bring the Noise by Anthrax & Public Enemy on the sequel.
But at the heart of the sequel’s California skate scene, punk rock roots, was You by Bad Religion, from their 1989 album, No Control. I asked Jay Bentley, bassist and founding member of Bad Religion, about the impact of Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2 on the band and the wider punk scene.
“The game went hand in hand with a burgeoning lifestyle that was taking hold, with the advent of the X Games and the Warped Tour,” Bentley tells me. “Bands like us were the soundtrack to this Southern California lifestyle. The impact of Pro Skater 2 just blew the roof off skate culture. We met a lot of people whose introduction to Bad Religion was from that game.”
For a massive band like Bad Religion, a younger generation of fans is a bonus. But Bentley found one young skater in particular, a lot closer to home, who he connected with over Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2.
“My oldest son was 9 when it came out. He loved it. Played it religiously. I thought the game was fantastic. I wasn’t any good at it,” Bentley admits, “but it was still cool. It led to us building a half pipe in the backyard for him to skate, and that’s all that matters.”
“Get out and skate!” He adds.
As with the first game, all of the bands I spoke to weren’t entirely sure how their track came to be chosen, but the underlying theme was that the skaters involved – and, of course, Tony Hawk – had a hand in selecting the tunes.
“It is my understanding that the individual skaters that Tony asked to be in the game came in with songs they wanted,” Bentley recalls. “It may have been Eric Koston (but I really can’t remember) that wanted You. Anyway, Tony reached out to Brett [Gurewitz, guitarist with Bad Religion] and that was that.”
Joey Cape, vocalist of Lagwagon, also credits Hawk himself with their place on the soundtrack. He also recognises the power of Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2 in pushing the band to a wider audience, far beyond the traditional reach of radio and MTV.
“I think a friend at our record label said Tony had reached out and asked for the song specifically,” Cape says. “I remember being offered the chance to be a part of a skateboarding video game backed by Tony Hawk and saying, ‘Hell Yeah!’. I do think the song choice was the right one for the game. I’m so happy they picked May 16th because, whatever song they had chosen, it would inevitably be on every setlist from then on. Lucky for Lagwagon, we still enjoy playing the song, and now we have our own day.”
“I have said it many times before, “Cape continues, “it’s almost like May 16th is our only single. Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2 soundtrack made the song a hit in our world and beyond. Somewhat miraculous for a band that did little in radio and video. Other bands involved seem to feel the same way. The soundtrack is kind of legendary now.”
When asked if he enjoyed the game, Cape is one of the musicians that remembers it fondly.
“Oh yeah, I played it,” he says. “It’s a great game regardless of your background in skateboarding and even cooler if you grew up in board sports. I remember not being all that skilled at the game, but thinking it was so well-done and it was a rush to hear our song while playing it.”
But as I said earlier; not every band on this list played the game on their tour bus, jamming out tricks between shows. Scott Hill, guitarist and vocalist of Fu Manchu, is very quick to admit that he’s not a big gamer. But he does recognise the value of a new generation of fans brought in by Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2.
“I’m not the biggest video game player,” he admits, “but I have younger nephews who played it a lot and I did play it. It was fun,”
“We did notice a lot of younger fans getting into the band,” he continues. “A lot of people that would have never heard Fu Manchu heard us because of that game. We get fans all the time telling us that they first heard of us from the game. Not sure about increased record sales, but I’m sure it didn’t hurt!”
“I’m embarrassed to say that I have never played it,” Johnny Bonnel, lead vocalist of Swingin’ Utters, also confesses. “I’ve watched it a few times and it looks fun, but I’m just not that dude. I had a few dreams playing it but my reaction time was underwater. Everyone that has played it says it’s siiiiiiick! I guess I’m missing out on the sickness.”
But like so many of the bands I spoke to, Bonnel doesn’t underestimate the importance of getting their shot on the Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2 soundtrack. (Even if he doesn’t know how they ended up there.)
“I wish I had a cool story about getting on the soundtrack. Maybe there actually is a cool story but I don’t know it. I remember Erin and Mike being happy about it, so that made me happy. Max was the one who told me and I couldn’t believe it!”
“It seemed so huge at the time that it made me nervous,” he recalls. “Five Lessons Learned was the song choice and it is one of my favourite songs. Jennifer Koski wrote most of it which makes it that much better! I dedicate Five Lessons Learned to all women skaters when we play it at our shows.”
“The game is globally popular so we were seeing an influx of new, younger followers on our tours,” Bonnel says. “It was the height of our popularity and buzz. I heard our sales increased – makes sense. I, often, mingle with the people who come to our shows and there is always a few people that offer unsolicited information about how they found out about Swingin’ Utters and most of the time it is Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater. All over the world, I am known as the dude who sings on a song on the soundtrack of Tony Hawk Pro Skater 2.”
“Pretty sweet,” he adds. “Thank you, Tony!”
But for all of the big bands on the Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2 soundtrack, it was again the opportunity afforded to lesser-known bands that was most exciting. Far from the skateparks and sunshine of Southern California were Consumed, a punk rock band from Nottingham, right here in the UK.
“Consumed was never destined for huge success,” Chris Billam, the band’s drummer, tells me. “We were happy with being reasonably well known within the UK punk scene back in the day, but we lacked any real ambition to push the band to where it perhaps could have got to. After being picked up by Fat Wreck Chords in the late 90s, we were lucky enough to travel that bit further and reach a wider audience. These were good times for the band and we were very lucky to have the opportunities and experiences we had. One of the biggest opportunities for further exposure came when we were told by the label that Activision wanted Heavy Metal Winner to feature on the soundtrack to Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2.”
Like Dead Kennedys, Bad Religion, Rage Against the Machine, and other bands with an anti-establishment bent, however, Consumed faced some flak from parts of the punk rock world, who felt it was “corporate” and “selling out” to appear on a video game soundtrack.
“Inevitably, there were a few grumbles from the punk rock elite who believed Consumed had sold out,” Billam recalls, “and that we’d let the scene down terribly by agreeing to be involved. I also remember hearing rumours that we’d been paid enough money to set us all up for life. In reality, we did get a small one-off payment which went towards the band’s debt and a copy of the game each.”
I’d argue that if people are giving you the same grief as they’re giving Dead Kennedys and Bad Religion, you’re at least in some very good company. Like all of the bands I’ve spoken to, though, Billam was keen to reiterate how positive the experience was for the band.
“We were aware of the success of the first game,” he continues, “and that one of its biggest draws was the soundtrack, so we felt honoured to be asked to be on the soundtrack of the sequel. For a virtually unknown band to be sitting alongside huge names from the world of punk, metal and hip hop will always be something for us to be extremely proud of.”
BONUS TRACK: TONY HAWK’S PRO SKATER 1 + 2
When the Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 1 + 2 remake was announced on May 12, 2020 – and the initial excitement over playing them again (without having to dig my PS1 out from the attic) subsided – my thoughts immediately turned to the soundtrack. Which songs would be on it? Would Activision be able to reacquire all the licenses? Would the bands involved the first time around even still be interested?
So began this feature and, over the intervening four months, I reached out to (pretty much) every band on the soundtrack from the original games. Some of the bands involved no longer exist, while others haven’t made it back onto the remake’s soundtrack for unknown reasons. But every band I spoke to, without exception, is thrilled to be back on the soundtrack for Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 1 + 2.
“I’m honoured and grateful to be part of the remix,” says Jay Bentley of Bad Religion. “I hope it spawns a whole new generation of skaters. That’s how I grew up and look at me!”
Like Bentley two decades earlier, building a halfpipe in the garden with his son, Lagwagon’s Joey Cape sees his band’s presence on the Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 1 + 2 soundtrack as a link to his teenage daughter’s love of skating, in addition to a great opportunity for the band.
“When Pro Skater was first released, many of Lagwagon’s fans were already skaters. I do think the new version could bring some younger fans to the soundtrack and in turn, the bands,” he says. “My daughter, for example, is 16 and she and her friends are skaters now. It’s really cool to witness the relationship between skateboarding and punk rock resurface. It always made sense. The sound and sport reunite over and over again.”
“It’s great. It did turn a lot of people onto our band and if people like the song on the soundtrack, I think they will do some digging around to find more by our band,” Fu Manchu’s Scott Hill tells me.”
“Always looking to gain new fans!” He adds, acknowledging the function of Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater as an on-ramp for fans, turning them on to a band’s whole back catalogue through hearing one song while playing the game.
Johnny Bonnel of Swingin’ Utters, meanwhile, promises to make the most of being on the soundtrack for a second time.
“I’m really pleased with being on the remastered soundtrack! Looking back, I was not in a good frame of mind at the height of our popularity,” he recalls. “We were touring with Social D [Social Distortion] and NUFAN [No Use For A Name] and Lunachicks! I should have been ecstatic at the direction we were headed. Instead, I was a grump. I want to make a promise to the new generation of fans: I will love you unconditionally.”
“I played the original Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2 a year or so ago and it still feels great when our song pops up,” Chris Billam says, of Consumed’s return to the soundtrack. “To be included in the remake feels just as exciting as it did 20 years ago. As well as a welcome nostalgia trip for us older folk, it’s a chance for a whole new generation of gamers to hear the original soundtrack and discover musical avenues they may not have explored without playing games from the THPS series.”
“Yes, I’m pretty excited,” Jason ‘Jay’ Navarro of The Suicide Machines tells me. “We are also on the documentary about the game with a new song. I just hope it’s as fun as the first game and or better. We were insanely lucky to be on this game it changed the path of our band I believe. I just hope it interests gamers of all walks of life to go out and get on a board for real.”
Only time will tell if Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 1 + 2 has the same impact as the original games. The critical reception to the game has been incredible (our review is coming soon) and if the game’s popularity follows the same trajectory as the originals, then the experience should again be positive for everyone I’ve spoken to.
But for a new generation of bands, they’re also getting their shot. For every song that didn’t come back for Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 1 + 2, another three have taken their place. There are over three dozen new tunes on the remake’s soundtrack, including punk luminaries like The Ataris, Less Than Jake and Reel Big Fish. But there are also bands you might not know, bands you may never have heard of if they weren’t featured on the Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater soundtrack.
And that’s the most exciting thing, isn’t it? The idea that any scrappy little band can be given a meteoric boost, just because they got the nod from Tony Hawk and his crew.
The soundtrack of a generation is back, then. It’s still the soundtrack of my generation, but now, it’s the soundtrack of the next generation of skaters, punks and geeks, too.
LINER NOTES
I’d like to say a big thank you to all of the bands who took part in this feature, and to all the representatives who made it happen. You’ve all been excellent sports and this article literally wouldn’t have worked without you.
(And if you’re reading this, John Feldmann, I’d still like to talk to you and hear your thoughts on Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater. Goldfinger quickly turned into my white whale for this feature!)
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