In the realm of retro gaming, the journey often begins with a simple act: organizing one’s collection. However, this seemingly innocuous task can quickly escalate into a chaotic struggle against the very laws of spatial organization. As I sifted through my overflowing shelves, I found myself in a battle where every item I returned to its rightful place seemed to spawn two more in its absence. Limited edition boxes loomed large, while the occasional old PC game unexpectedly dropped from above, adding to the clutter.
Among the treasures and tribulations of this tidying endeavor were the unassuming doujin game demo CDs. Their slim profiles make them deceptively easy to store, yet they also possess a knack for disappearing into the depths of obscurity. One particular disc caught my eye—a plain white CD-R labeled simply as “Action RPG (Temp) C81 Demo Version.” The potential of this unassuming disc was tantalizing, holding the promise of either a hidden gem or a digital disaster.
As I delved into the contents, I unearthed a plain text readme file that offered little more than the author’s straightforward description: “This game is an action RPG.” The developer, Foxtail, seemed to have left no further trace of this project, as even the title screen was absent, replaced by a simple prompt asking if I wished to start or continue.
Discovering Gameplay
To my relief, the game itself proved to be a legitimate experience rather than a corrupted file or an elaborate prank. The pixel art was crisp and inviting, even if the initial encounter with a solitary slime lacked the adrenaline rush one might expect. The controls were intuitive, allowing me to navigate my character with ease and engage in combat with a satisfying click of the mouse. My initial victory over the blue blob brought a sense of triumph, a reminder of the challenges inherent in even the simplest of game designs.
As I progressed, the game introduced a stamina system, represented by a blue “ST” bar nestled between the traditional HP and MP gauges. This mechanic required me to strategize my attacks, ensuring that each swing counted, lest I leave myself vulnerable to counterattacks. While not revolutionary, this feature was a nod to the evolving landscape of action RPGs, reminiscent of the stamina management popularized by titles like Dark Souls.
The gameplay unfolded in a series of increasingly complex rooms, each presenting new challenges. I found myself luring slimes away from fireball-throwing mages, navigating the battlefield with a newfound sense of strategy. The enemy AI, while not groundbreaking, added a layer of personality to the encounters, making each skirmish feel dynamic.
As I navigated through the game’s 20 stages, I encountered a variety of obstacles, from S-shaped mazes to formidable foes that split into smaller versions upon defeat. The simplicity of the design allowed me to focus on the enjoyment of gameplay, and I felt a pang of disappointment when I finally met my demise, returning to the title screen with a sense of accomplishment.
Upon completing the demo, I was greeted by a simple message inscribed on a stone tablet: “That’s it, thank you for playing.” In that moment, I felt a deep appreciation for the effort that had gone into creating this nameless action RPG. Despite its lack of polish, the game radiated a sense of heart and creativity, a testament to the passion of its creator.
While the journey of this particular title may have ended on that CD-R, it serves as a reminder of the hidden gems that exist within the world of indie gaming. The experience was personal, handcrafted, and filled with the spark of imagination. I hope that Foxtail continues to create marvelous micro games, and perhaps, one day, I will stumble upon their next creation during another round of tidying up.
