Central to the appeal of the PixelJunk series is its developer’s ability to do a lot with a little. SideScroller, after all, sees Q-Games conjuring scorched subterranean caverns, throbbing pink intestines and even toxic celestial clockwork from a handful of coloured vector shapes, and grinding an endless supply of tactical choices from just three basic weapon types – although, granted, they can all be upgraded. It’s thrifty stuff, and it’s mesmerising too.
Also, it really, really wants to be an arcade game, from the moiré lines and hint of a curved screen that have been layered on top of the playing field, to the prompt to ‘insert coins’ that greets you on the start menu. It’s got the chops for it too, invoking classics ranging from Gradius right back to a weaponised Lunar Lander, while its tumbling waves of enemies could have spawned from the depths of Galaxian, or in the dark heart of R-Type.
But if Q-Games has crafted a consummate genre piece, it’s one that is neither merely stylish nor nostalgic. Instead, it’s willful, personable and tricksy, and it has plenty of distinct PixelJunk DNA swimming around inside it too. Those three weapon types are riddled with interesting strengths and weaknesses – the machine-guns offer steady streams of fire but can’t lance straight through enemies like the slower laser can – and they all require a commitment from the player in order to use them properly.
The environment, meanwhile, is much more than a static backdrop, as later levels throw in pools of lava or toxic bile and chunks of shimmering ice. Smart lifts from PixelJunk Shooter mean you can cool your ship down after you’ve taken too much damage by steering through a nearby waterfall, while a no-fuss combo system draws you back to the action by encouraging kill chains to keep your multiplier alive. It’s push-pull gaming executed with beautiful economy, and it’s typical of the clear-headedness with which the whole thing’s been put together.
SideScroller’s final stages are arguably among the best things Q-Games has ever done, but be warned: if you’re used to the puzzley pace of Shooter, you won’t find its playful nature here. Arcade games aren’t about playfulness anyway: they’re about endless suffering made palatable by the hope of eventual mastery. They’re about wading into bullet hell until you’ve found that one safe vantage point, about collectibles that are literally invisible until you stumble across the cranny where they’ve been hidden, and about locking you into a spinning kill chamber and then piling on the homing rockets. Insert coin? You really should. [8]