Why I was fascinated by how Mega Man and his chief rival, Bass, sought to upset the natural order of things.
Ah, the Internet of the late '90s and early 2000s. It was a different time. There was no unifying structure. People weren't as connected. Information wasn't as readily available. The most fantastical of rumors could easily gain credibility and take on a mythical allure to those who became invested in pursing them. And there was always a sense that undiscovered knowledge was potentially hiding within any dusty, unexplored corner of the web. It was the truly Wild West, the landscape sprawled and clouded as such that it was often difficult to determine what was real and what wasn't.
That's how things were during the summer of 2000, when I was brimming with excited inquisitiveness as I sought to discover the truth behind Rockman & Forte's existence.
It all started a few months earlier.
The spring season had arrived. It had been roughly a year since I'd played and finished both Mega Man 8 and Mega Man X4. While my feelings toward the two games hadn't changed--that is, I still regarded them as thoroughly underwhelming Mega Man entries--the fact was that my reconnecting with the series in this manner had worked wonderfully to put me back in the spirit; my reengaging with the scene had filled me with ravenous energy, and suddenly I'd developed greatly renewed interest in the series following a years-long period of detachment that resulted from my utter dissatisfaction with Mega Man 7 and the latter two SNES Mega Man X sequels.
But now I was again afflicted with Mega Man fever! Like in the old days, I was playing all of the games on a regular basis. I was hitting up all of the big Mega Man forums and chatting about them with my fellow Mega Man fans. I was attentively reading about the franchise's history and studying up on all of the games to which I'd remained oblivious (like Mega Man Battle & Chase, the two arcade fighters, and those quirky Japan-only spin-off titles). And hell--since I was currently in the habit of creating websites dedicated to my favorite video-game series, it felt like the perfect time to build myself a comprehensive Mega Man fansite!
So I spent a few months doing what was necessary to construct a worthwhile Mega Man shrine: I ripped a whole bunch of sprites. I used massive amounts of text to frame the respective series' honestly simple stories. I provided detailed (or what seemed like detailed) descriptions of the games' characters, weapons and stages. Because, I guess, scanning them would have been too easy, I painstakingly reproduced the games' manuals using matched-up fonts and sprites (no, really--just do yourself a favor and never go anywhere near that place). And I continued working to accumulate as much knowledge as I could.
By the time the site had reached its maturation point, I'd grown confident in thinking that I was now the all-knowing Mega Man fan!
But then something strange happened: One particular week, as I was actively browsing both Mega Man and general-enthusiast message boards, certain forum-goers started claiming that they'd either heard about or played a Japan-only Mega Man sequel titled "Mega Man 9." I was intrigued by this claim yet at the same time highly skeptical. For one, this news was seemingly being generated from out of nowhere! None of the big enthusiast sites or magazines were reporting on such a game. Not a single one of my closest associates had read anything about it. And my repeated Yahoo! searches would turn up nothing of note. So, then, how could there have been any credence to this claim when no one could supply context for the game's existence or provide even a simple screenshot? "If such a game had existed for any length of time," I thought, "then there was no way it wouldn't have turned up in my research!"
But the more I investigated the matter, the more obvious it became that there was indeed substance to the forum-goers' claims. There were simply too many people corroborating the news for it not to be real!
Now somewhat shocked, I was left to wonder about when and how this "Mega Man 9" came to be and how it was that information regarding its existence had for so long eluded my stare. I continued looking for answers.
The wackiest info to emerge was that Mega Man 9 had apparently seen release on the SNES (or the Super Famicom, as it were)! That was nuts. "That part of it can't be true," I argued, confounded by the very thought. "I mean, that's not how the video-game industry works! Technology is always supposed to be moving forward. You can't make a direct sequel to a current-generation game for a previous-generation machine! Right?!"
Sure--there was precedent for sequels being made for the technologically inferior portable devices, but we understood that the Game Boy and its ilk comprised a completely separate line of technology. Portables weren't in direct competition with their console cousins; rather, they offered a complementary experience. So it wasn't out of the ordinary when, say, Nintendo announced that the sequel to The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past, a SNES game, would be coming to the comparatively limited Game Boy. This was the natural order.
But an SNES sequel to a next-generation PlayStation game? Complete madness!
To me it was one of the most fascinating developments in video-game history. I was spellbound by the very idea of it: a sequel to a 32-bit game on a technologically obsolete 16-bit console that had been all but abandoned as it entered its eighth year on the market. "What is this weirdly wonderful alternate reality in which I've awaken?" I wondered.
Now, of course, there was still no real proof that the game in question was actually "Mega Man 9" and not some largely unrelated spin-off, but trusted voices had assured us that its style of content was such that it was surely canonical--surely an extension of what we saw in Mega Man 8 (as to what degree, they were unclear).
However, I wasn't going to be fully convinced until I saw it for myself, so I scoured the Internet in search of the ROM (as you did in those days) and came up with "Rockman & Forte," whose logical translation was "Mega Man & Bass" and certainly not "Mega Man 9." It was strange: The ROM's file name was clearly "megaman9.smc," but nothing of the sort appeared on the game's title screen; for certain there was no trace, anywhere, of the number 9. I mean, Super Metroid also dropped the numbering convention, but it at least flashed a confirming "Metroid 3" in its intro. "If this is the ninth entry in the classic Mega Man series," I questioned, "then why are its opening screens completely bereft of any such mention?"
But once I saw the game in motion, it all started to make sense. This wasn't some unrelated spin-off. No--everything I witnessed over the next hour or so confirmed to me that I was indeed playing the direct sequel to Mega Man 8. In fact, Rockman & Forte was stunningly similar to it. If my eyes weren't deceiving me, then I could reliably observe that Rockman & Forte was recycling a great many of Mega Man 8's assets--everything from character and object sprites to stage-design features to even two bosses (Tengu Man and Astro Man). As I navigated my way through Magic Man's stage, I couldn't help but notice that his was basically Clown Man's stage remixed! Ground Man's stage was clearly borrowing platforming elements from Sword Man's stage! And Pirate Man's habitat bore a remarkable resemblance to Aqua Man's!
Here I was playing a game that looked nearly identical to the 32-bit Mega Man 8 right there on the ol' SNES. It was kind of surreal.
Adding further to Rockman & Forte's allure was its "lost" nature. I was blown away by how well it did to replicate the look of the PlayStation game, yes, but at the same time I was overcome with the sense that I was playing another one of those "forbidden" games--like Rondo of Blood one of those Japan-only releases that my eyes weren't meant to see.
That was my state of mind as I worked my way through the game's early portion with Bass, who was turning out to be an awesome addition with his multi-directional firing ability and incredible agility.
"What is this game?" I wondered, mine a continued state of fascination. My attention to onscreen happenings would often lapse as I'd turn inward and entertain thoughts about the surreality of Rockman & Forte--about what it was and what it represented. Really, I never could have imagined that I'd get a chance to do this again--to play a "new" Mega Man game on my beloved SNES (an emulated version of it, of course). What a time.
Since I don't remember a whole lot about the chronology of my early experiences with Rockman & Forte, I'm going to talk about the game in general terms (had I known that I'd come to cherish my memories of the games I discovered during the era in question, I might have felt compelled to make more mental notes).
To start, I absolutely loved everything about the intro stage, which was a "museum" in more than one sense. It was, in fact, a grand tribute to the games of yore, its every screen featuring a respectful nod to a predecessor: The drill-like Moles endlessly tunneled their way into and out from the lobby's floor and ceiling, as they did in Metal Man's stage. The fiery corridor, whose hazards included discharging flame pillars and trios of Tackle Fires that shot out from the pools of flame and descended down in formation, could have been ripped directly from Fire Man's stage. The oscillating ship that immediately reminded me of the one from Blizzard Man's stage. The stormy exterior that brought to mind images of fighting against the elements in Toad Man's stage. And the Green Devil's appearance, which struck two separate chords: It crystallized the game's unfathomable connection to Mega Man 8 while providing acknowledgment to the shapeshifters from Mega Mans past. I felt right at home.
And working so effectively to imbue every section of the stage--every moment of action--with nostalgic resonance was the museum's terrific musical theme, its remindful tones never ceasing in their ability to conjure vivid, blissfully rendered mental images of the great times I had with earlier series entries. It was an instantly memorable piece. I'd come to regard it as one of the series' best works, the always-hummable museum theme never failing to evoke memories of the time I spent discovering and exploring Rockman & Forte. That, I'd say, is the profile of a classic video-game tune.
At first I was a bit troubled by the fact that Rockman & Forte was borrowing Mega Man 8's art style in lieu of, say, adopting Mega Man 7's aesthetic, which I associated with the SNES. It's not that I hated how Mega Man 8 looked--oh, no--I'd actually warmed up to its art style over time; it was more that Mega Man 8's graphics (or those that resembled them) tended to arouse bad memories.
But I got over it in a hurry, my ill feelings swept away by the soothing tones of the museum stage, which made such a great first impression that I was willing to forget how its 32-bit sibling's snowboarding sections drove me to the brink of insanity.
I could admit that it Rockman & Forte looked damn good. In fact, I found it to be more aesthetically pleasing than its Mega Man 8. It wasn't a match for it in a technical sense, no--not in terms of resolution, frames of animations, or number of objects onscreen--but it did boast the types of qualities I was looking for in my Mega Man games: snug screen dimensions; solid colors in place of gradiants; boldly colored, sharply outlined textures; and that unmistakable crispness to the visuals. Also, I was delighted to see the return of the sliver-based energy meters! Rockman & Forte was more than a sequel; it represented a return to form!
I'd be remiss if I didn't emphasize how great a role the soundtrack played in defining Rockman & Forte's world. The music was tonally similar to Mega Man 8's, which was to say chill and whimsical, but had a wonderfully distinct quality to it; such was the result of the composers' adeptly-configured, soul-touching instrumentation, which had the power to imbue stage environments with nostalgic ambiance. I don't mean to overuse the world nostalgia, but, really, I can find no other way to describe how Rockman & Forte's tunes do so well to inspire feelings of longing. Its music functions to speak of the game's purpose while providing commentary on the era in which it was given life. It manages to capture the essence of the 16-bit machines' twilight years--provide necessary accompaniment to the tearful farewell videos that were playing in our hearts.
Needless to say, I thought very highly of the soundtrack. There wasn't a weak tune in the bunch.
Going in, my biggest concern was that I would miss out on fully enjoying all of the dialogue exchanges and story sequences because the game was said to lack an English-text option. Fortunately the ROM had been available long enough to where someone had already created an English-language patch for it. Meanwhile, all I could think was "What the hell is a 'patch'?" Really, it didn't matter; I just downloaded it and stuck it in the "games" folder as instructed. Whatever worked.
More than anything, I was happy that now I'd be able to discover the true nature of those collectible CDs--that I'd be able to find out what they were saying about the iconic Robot Masters and the rest of the supporting cast.
More on this in a bit.
I was very welcoming of the CD-collecting element because I could observe that it was encouraging the level designers to be more creative. It was their zeal in plotting out all of those hidden rooms and alternate paths that provided Rockman & Forte a real sense of exploration--the kind Mega Man 8 was seriously lacking. There was a lot of fun to be had in finding all of the secret areas and figuring out the processes for procuring the CDs, some of which were deviously positioned. Hell--there was a nastily placed CD in Ground Man's stage that I wasn't able to secure until about nine years later. In my earliest play-throughs, I almost lost my mind trying to obtain it. I couldn't come close even when I used save-states!
You know the one I'm talking about.
It quickly became apparent that choosing to play as Mega Man was the equivalent of selecting "Challenge Mode." Clearly the game was designed with the more-versatile Bass in mind. The first hint of such was the placement of the Dodonpa Cannons on the previously discussed oscillating ship. Mega Man, who was limited to horizontal fire, had no way landing shots on cannons that were positioned one level below his. So there was no way of escaping that section of the stage without taking damage. "They're not hiding the fact that this is really a 'Bass' game," I said to myself.
Once I came to grips with this reality, I decided to go all-in on Bass. Mega Man would have to wait. I felt as though I should have been angry that Mega Man had been relegated to a secondary role, but I couldn't be because, honestly, playing as Bass was so much fun! He could rapidly fire shots in seven directions (all but straight down), as if he were auditioning for a future Contra game, and his repertoire of high-flying maneuvers--which included double jumps, dashes, and dash-jumps--brought him more closely in line with Mega Man X protagonists X and Zero. It was an intriguing amalgamation of styles.
But there were obvious trade-offs: He could overwhelm enemies by spraying them with endless cannon fire, but his individual shots would prove to be weak in attack power when he was forced to use his weapon sparingly. He could attack from most any angle, but he couldn't charge up his buster or fire through walls. He could speed along the ground using his dash ability, but he couldn't move while shooting. He could skillfully navigate his way through stages, but he'd have trouble taking down bosses, whose invincibility frames would nullify the effect of his rapid fire (which was a big issue if you were determined to complete a buster-only run). Granted, there were shop items that remedied most of these issues, but you could still see the attempt to create some kind of balance between the two characters.
You know that Mega Man is getting the short end of the stick when it's required that he utilize a specially installed moving platform (a "pity platform," as it's known) if he hopes inflict any kind of damage on the main antagonist.
Maybe that's why they refrained from titling the game "Mega Man 9." Really, is it much of a proper series entry when the eponymous hero needs a stool to access the kitchen counter?
In truth, Rockman & Forte was considerably challenging no matter which character I was using. Bass had plenty of innate advantages, sure, but not a single one of them was going to help me reliably defeat the terror known as Dynamo Man, who at any time could hop into his recharge station and begin replenishing his health faster than you could neutralize the generators on either side. All of the double-jumps and diagonal rapid fire in the world weren't going to make those King battles any easier--especially when we were talking about the largely unassailable King Tank, whose stupidly tedious attack-cycle would regularly infuriate me.
The second fortress stage, in which King dwelled, was one of gaming's all-time tortuous hellscapes; it was ridiculously long and featured four of the game's toughest boss fights (Game Over during any one of them and it was back to the start). And that Wily battle, man; it was a near carbon copy of Mega Man 8's but somehow much nastier, its level of cruelty only serving to highlight the game's lack of practical health-restoring items.
Rockman & Forte was Lost Levels to Mega Man 8's Super Mario Bros. I'd come to recognize it as the series' most difficult game.
But still I liked it a lot. Rockman & Forte was often frustrating, yes, but its appeal was such that I couldn't tear myself away from it. It was fun to play, absolutely, but more so I simply enjoyed being around it--enjoyed listening to and absorbing it.
Now, it's true that Rockman & Forte wasn't exactly shattering the mold--an expectation I was (probably unfairly) placing upon new Mega Man games--but I could respect the fact that it was trying new things. Its were subtle innovations: the uniquely functioning Robot Master selection screen on which progression was handled via branching paths. Creative boss fights like those against Burner Man and Atetemino Proto (a repurposed Mega Man 8 boss), where tactically exploiting the surrounding environment was the key to victory. Level design that encouraged or even demanded skillful application of Robot Master weapons like the Ice Wall, whose use was paramount to fully exploring stages and nabbing those CDs. All of those cool ability-enhancing items you could buy. And the welcome addition of that capsule-based obstacle-course stage within which you had to figure out how to correctly utilize weapons if you hoped to earn valuable, giant-sized bolts (if you ask me, every Mega Man game should have a stage like this).
Rockman & Forte didn't represent a major evolution to formula, no, but it was a fine half-step. Had Mega Man 7 showcased this same type of inventive spirit, I would have been much happier with it.
And thankfully the limitations of 16-bit hardware kept Inafune and crew in check, their energy focused on things that mattered most to the player. There were no superfluous anime cut-scenes here. No ridiculous voice acting. No uninteresting intergalactic plot elements. And, to my great relief, no "Jump! Jump! Slide! Slide!" This was pure Mega Man action, baby, and for that I could rejoice.
Jumping back to a previous generation was one of the best things to happen to the series (and they'd take it even farther back in the future for a similar refresh). Hell--I wouldn't mind if the next retro-style Mega Man game adopted Rockman & Forte's art direction and style of action! It would be a fine starting point.
I can't talk about what Rockman & Forte meant to be without mentioning the Database mode, which is one of my favorite Mega Man feature of all time. How it was presented was so perfectly on point. First there was the mode's theme music, which was soaked with wistful vibes. More so than any other of the game's music tracks, it could evoke strong feelings of remembrance--conjure images of days when the best thing in life was playing some Mega Man with your friends on a warm summer day. It was one of those tunes that I'd just stop and listen to for minutes at a time--let it provide ambiance to my reflecting. I could call it an instant favorite. I can't think of many other tunes that do more to make me long for the 16-bit era.
Also, I was blown away by the exhaustive nature of its content. I mean, it went out of its way to include everything: The Game Boy games' Mega Man Killers. The Stardroids from Mega Man V. And even the three Wily Wars-exclusive bosses! And the Mega Man 8 Robot Masters ("32-bit characters") appearing there--in this, a 16-bit game--gave it that extra splash of surreality.
I couldn't offer enough commendation to the game's creators for the effort they put into crafting the Database. It was a wonderful treat for Mega Man fans. To me it was a celebration of the series and at the same time a final farewell to the old era, as if they were saying, "Remember all of the good times we had? Well, here's a second chance to savor it before we dive headlong into the future."
Add it all up and you've got one of the most memorable, emotionally resonant Mega Man games ever made. Even if I were to forget about all of the content within Rockman & Forte, I'd still fondly remember the game for how it positively affected my life.
I don't know how I'd rate it on a scale of 1-10. I don't know where I'd place it on my list of favorite Mega Man games. And I'd hesitate to guarantee that all series fans, or even a majority of them, would see the same type of value in it--agree that it's worth treasuring for the reasons I've listed. All I can say is that Rockman & Forte is both interesting and fun. I can tell you that it's bursting with soul--that its every observable attribute has the power to conjure remindful images. Compared to the other 16- and 32-bit Mega Man games, Rockman & Forte feels close in spirit to the NES games, and that's why I have such strong feelings for it. For certain I like it a lot more than Mega Man 8, which at times felt like it wanted to be something else--something distant.
After seeing what he did with Rockman & Forte, I'm inclined to believe that Inafune was very much cognizant of how Mega Man 8's was overreaching--of how its ambition to expand the series' universe and include intergalactic themes and all-encompassing stories--worked to (a) distract from what made Mega Man games so palatable and (b) minimize the importance of the long-serving veteran cast. So he wanted to bring it home--return the series to its roots in a place where doing so made the most sense. His explanation that he "did it for the kids who wanted to experience Mega Man but weren't yet ready to move on to next-generation consoles" was merely the cover.
More likely, he did it for all of us: for series fans who were hungry for more Mega Man man but lacked the financial means to afford a next-generation console. For those who were seeking one last chance to experience Mega Man action in its most recognizable, purely concentrated form. And for himself--for a man whose best bet to remember what it was that comprised Mega Man's core was to re-immerse himself in the type of development environment that originally gave life to the Blue Bomber--to call upon the disinfecting magic of those old machines. His was a gesture that said, "Let us all take the opportunity to remember how we got here."
And I'm thankful to stand among those who were able to seize the opportunity at that particular point in time. Rockman & Forte was the Mega Man game I needed to see.
Rockman & Forte is one of the poster children for an era for which I've since developed what I call "new nostalgia," a term I use to describe my fondness for all of the fascinatingly derived, endlessly alluring games that I discovered at the start of my second phase of life--during my college and early-Internet years. It stands high atop the mountain alongside those like Adventure Island IV, Fire 'n Ice and the MSX Eggerland games. It represents everything I loved about that era of discovery--about the time when there was still mystery in the world. I'm sad that those days are long, but I'm encouraged by the news that there are many more like Rockman & Forte--many more that have the power to keep its spirit alive.
And that's how it'll go. Whenever I think about Rockman & Forte, I'll remember how I tried to comprehend the surreality of it all--how inconveivable its existence seemed. I'll remember how I spent hours exploring its world and hunting down CDs so that I could read and re-read the database's character descriptions while soaking in its reflective, wistful musical theme, which so brilliantly produced the remindful atmosphere in which one would hope to be enveloped when he or she was reading about the cherished history of video games.
If ever there was a hidden gem that didn't to be, its name would be Rockman & Forte. Shoot--I kind of feel bad for not playing it more than I have. I'd like to return to it, really, but I'm going to refrain from doing so until I can play a legitimately purchased copy of the game. I'd love to see it appear on the Virtual Console, translated or not; the Nintendo Switch's lack of region locking gives me hope that it could happen (because I never learn). The compromised GBA port is not good enough. I want the real thing. And I feel that the opportunity is ripe. Considering the way things have gone in the past few years, Mega Man fans would appreciate a re-released Rockman & Forte now more than ever.
So in the end, Rockman & Forte didn't turn out to be "Mega Man 9." It was good enough to be. It probably should have been. But it wasn't. It was something else. And, really, who could say for certain what it was supposed to be? It could have been that Inafune wanted to experiment within the classic universe--expand upon it by introducing new concepts like multiple playable characters--and mitigate any risk of fan backlash by treating the resulting product as though it were a spin-off. Perhaps Capcom didn't sell enough copies of Mega Man 8 to cover for the game's budget, so it looked to recoup any losses by recycling a large portion of its content in a comparatively inexpensive 16-bit game--for an audience it assumed to be more receptive to Mega Man games. Or maybe it really was for "the kids." Frankly, I don't care why Inafune and crew decided to make Rockman & Forte; I'm just thankful that they did!
As it is now, the only thing unfathomable would be imagining a history without it.
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