If the previous NES entry was but a mere shadow, then the Lee brothers' latest was a blindingly luminous light.
So as far as my friends and I were concerned, the NES port of Double Dragon was a pretty big disappointment.
We didn't hate the game, no. We were fond of its 8-bit visuals, we adored its renditions of the classic Double Dragon tunes, and we were always eager to express how charmed we were by its every emanation. Also, it was, we could admit, a fun, engaging single-player action game. That's why we returned to it again and again in the months and years following its release.
Though, even then, it just wasn't what we wanted it to be. It wasn't truly "Double Dragon" because (a) it lacked cooperative multiplayer action, (b) it had a weird RPG-like system that only served to withhold all of the cool moves from you, (c) it featured an unnecessarily high level of difficulty (particularly in its final stage), and (d) it contained questionably designed, out-of-place platforming segments that were tough to contend with because the game's jumping mechanics were shaky and thus unreliable.
And because it had those problems, we couldn't love it. We couldn't think of it as being worthy of the "Double Dragon" name.
Of course, the lack of cooperative multiplayer was what bothered us most. We never got over the disappointment of not being able to play together--of not being able to engage in the type of frenzied multiplayer action that allowed for us to work together to cut through hordes of enemies and all the while share in some silly, good-humored banter. We just couldn't understand why the game's creators made the conscious decision to leave out the most essential element: the simultaneous two-player action! You know--the entire point of a game called "'Double' Dragon"!
The NES version wasn't that game, no. It was instead Single Dragon--a solid side-scrolling action game, sure, but not one that did justice to its namesake. And my feeling was that the NES deserved something better; it deserved a game that was far more faithful to the beloved arcade classic.
That's why I was so stoked when, sometime during the midsummer of 1989, my friend Dominick arrived at my house with news that Technos and Acclaim were teaming up to produce an improved Double Dragon sequel called "Double Dragon II: The Revenge"! He had read all about it in the latest issue of Nintendo Power. Now he was eager to share all of that information with me! And that's what he did: He informed of every tantalizing detail, including the particulars of the game's story, the extent of of its graphical upgrade, and the nature of its gameplay. (Strangely, he didn't mention that it was an arcade port--a detail that would have shocked me because I somehow didn't know that Double Dragon had gotten an arcade sequel.)
All of that stuff was worthy of celebration, certainly, but what excited me more than anything was the final bit he shared with me: the news that Double Dragon II: The Revenge was going to feature simultaneous multiplayer!
I'd walk around my den and put my imagination to work as I wondered about the game. And I'd keep asking myself the same questions in the same order: "Where will this new adventure take us? What will the gameplay be like? Will it feel closer to arcade Double Dragon's? Will you be able execute double-team maneuvers like that constraining fell-nelson you could pull off in that game? Will there be platforming elements? And if there are, will they work well this time? And does the new enemy force employ familiar baddies like William, Linda, Roper and Abobo?"
In truth, though, all of that stuff registered as secondary to me. What I cared about far more than any other element was the simultaneous-multiplayer action. I couldn't wait to team up with my friends and take on this new group of fiends that was calling itself "the Black Shadow Warriors"!
I didn't see a single image of Double Dragon II until the winter months. That's about when screenshots of the game started appearing in the gaming magazines--the ones I'd pick up whenever I'd go with my father to one of the local convenience stores. (I never got a chance to see that aforementioned Nintendo Power preview because Dominick no longer owned the issue in question. He either lost or destroyed it. I wouldn't be surprised if it was the latter considering the amount of times I'd witnessed he and his brothers beating each other over the head with such things.)
Though, I wasn't at all satiated by the magazines' previews with their short little blurbs and their tiny, blurry screen captures, no. I needed much more. I was desperate to see truly meaningful coverage of what I imaged to be the most amazingly epic multiplayer action game the NES had ever seen!
I had to wait until early January of the following year to see the most substantial Double Dragon II preview: a lengthy piece that appeared in the 10th issue of Nintendo Power, which Dominick, this time, was kind enough to bring over to my house (the magazine, surprisingly, was fully intact, and its covers had no skull-shaped indentations!). And, well, the game indeed looked amazing! It, like Super Mario Bros. 3, was definitely a "next-level game"--one of those visually transcendent games that could only appear on the NES at this point in the console's life-cycle!
Now more than ever, I couldn't wait to see the game in action. I was dying to find out who that large, portly steel-masked enemy was and how he operated. My imagination would run wild whenever I'd think what it would be like to fight on and against those screen-filling helicopters and tanks. I was desperate to play this game.
Release day couldn't come soon enough!
The wait became even more painful when Double Dragon II started appearing as a prize on kid-focused game shows like Family Double Dare. Because when that started happening, you knew that a game's release was so achingly close!
Back then, it was typical that video-game release dates weren't solid, so you couldn't sure what day or week a game would start appearing in stores. That was the case with Double Dragon II: Its release date, according to Nintendo Power, was simply "January."
So the moment the calendar turned to January, the search began. Every day, my friends and I would spend the after-school hours hitting all of the local stores and bugging clerks with our requests for information; and of course, we had our parents calling all of the major retail outlets on an hourly basis. It took a while--maybe two or three weeks--but eventually each of us managed to track down a copy of the game (we found them at different stores and did so within days of each other).
Dominick got his copy first, so we had our first-ever session with Double Dragon II at his house. And let me tell you: It went amazingly! We were engrossed from the very start. We were utterly enchanted with the game's every aspect from its terrific-sounding, electrifying title-screen theme to its rocking stage music to its impressively rendered settings, environments and backgrounds (we loved, in particular, the design of its buildings, which came in such unique and interesting shapes and forms).
We were also taken with the atmosphere- and world-building touches like the tattered-looking building surfaces and the orange-hued ("sun-drenched") cityscape that occupied the background. The game's every visual was filled with character; each had at least one interesting design or feature; each told us something compelling about the world we were traversing.
Then there was the colorful cast of enemies. It, too, represented a defining aspect of the game with its wonderfully distinctive array of characters--with its acrobatic ninjas, stick-wielding martial artists, burly brawlers, mean-looking giants, and other cool-looking foes. They made NES Double Dragon's enemies look like washed-out-lookin' lifeless stiffs in comparison!
And the Lee brothers, too, looked so much better in this game. Their sprites were larger and more detailed (they had big poofy pompadours!), they had a better, more-appropriate-looking fight stance, and their moves animated more fluidly!
So yeah--we could tell very early on that the developers put a lot of effort into Double Dragon II. It was clear to us that their ambition was to create a visually and aurally stunning game and that they'd succeeded wildly in doing so.
Everything Double Dragon II did impressed us. We thought it was so cool how that oft-highlighted steel-masked fellow would seemingly meet his demise but then suddenly reconstitute and launch a last-gasp attack. We were instantly enamored with the battle that was fought within the helicopter's exterior and how the helicopter's door would regularly slide open and vacuum out anyone who was in proximity of it (some of the most fun we ever had was in trying to bait Williamses and Abobos over to the copter's upper-right portion and immobilize them in such a way that they'd be prone to be sucked out and thus easily defeated; and of course, we'd get really pissed when either of us was sucked out, instead!). And we were especially fond of the game's background work--of imagery like the aforementioned orange-hued cityscape and Mission 3's ocean sunset--and how it told a story and thus provided the game's world such a rich, entrancing atmosphere.
Neither of us much cared for cut-scenes, no, but we had to admit that Double Dragon II's were pretty awesome. These intervening scenes--with their cool comic-book-style visuals and highly kinetic, rhythmic musical accompaniment--were fun to look at and listen to, and they always succeeded at raising our collective adrenaline level and making us eager to smash some skulls! "Let's rock!" we'd say, synchronously, before starting each mission.
So in just the opening 5-10 minutes of this very first session, Double Dragon II proved to us that it was legit.
It was more than just that, actually: It was the whole package! It had it all--everything we were expecting and more. And everything it did, it did amazingly!
We were having such a great time with Double Dragon II that we couldn't stop playing it. Our usual MO was to place a limit on the amount of time we were going to spend with a game and do so in the interest of squeezing in as many games as we could into each session, but this time, we just couldn't restrain ourselves! The game was too damn good! So we just kept playing and playing!
On that first day, we must've played through the game a half-dozen times (or so it seemed)!
Most importantly, though, the developers delivered big time when it came to the fighting system. We got everything we wanted: intense multiplayer action; cool, hard-hitting fighting moves; and satisfying combat. We absolutely loved putting to use spectacular new moves like the midair spinning kick, which could knock away enemies on either side and do so with an explosive sound effect that was so very satisfying on its own, and the devastating flying knee, which, when we could actually get it to work, would launch enemies far across the screen and do so in an even more explosive-feeling, visually pleasing way!
The midair spin kick (the one we could get to work consistently) quickly became one of our favorite fighting moves of all time! We'd use it constantly. In any Double Dragon II play-through, we'd shamelessly abuse it. I mean, it was a lower-risk move because enemies had no real counter for it (as opposed to standard punches and kicks, which they could power through), and it hit really hard, so, really, there was no reason for us not to abuse it!
And Double Dragon II just kept on impressing us. As we got deeper into the game, we found ourselves traversing and fighting our way through areas that either contained or were comprised of conveyor belts, retracting floors, moving gears, mobile fortresses, disappearing-and-reappearing platform puzzles (which felt straight out of Mega Man), and all types of cool, interesting constructions. Their platforming sequences, unlike the original Double Dragon's, actually worked for us because they were incorporated well and because they were pretty fun. We looked forward to engaging with them.
Still, these areas were no joke, and they were often the sites in which we'd dump a lot of lives and earn Game Overs. Though, we didn't care to complain about such a thing, no; Double Dragon II was so much fun that we didn't mind having to start over from the beginning and re-traverse all of the previous stages!
Now, sure--the game had its issues. We weren't blind to that fact. We were very much aware of its flaws (some of which carried over from NES Double Dragon): The jumping controls were kinda stiff. You couldn't hold on to weapons for extended periods of time because they'd disappear the moment a new enemy set emerged. The game used that infamous "Technos control scheme" that would swap the inputs whenever you turned to face the opposite direction (what was the "punch" button when you were facing right would become the "back kick" button when you were facing left) and thus create confusion and open the door for repeated unintended actions. And certain moves, like the midair spin kick, wouldn't execute properly even when we (seemingly) input the correct commands.
The knee strike, in particular, gave us headaches. We wanted to abuse it, yeah, but we couldn't because it was incredibly hard to execute consistently (even when we were doing exactly what the manual told us to do!). So what we'd do, instead, was just jump around and pound on the buttons and hope to luck upon the magic knee-strike input. Usually we'd fail and wind up stuck in a crouched position and thus prone. It was the same way with the uppercut: It seemed like it would execute only randomly. So anytime we'd actually managed to execute one of these moves, it would feel like we achieved a major victory.
And when we were being honest, we could admit that Double Dragon II's jumping controls weren't exactly made with platforming in mind. They were more polished than NES Double Dragon's, sure, but they still didn't lend themselves well to precision platforming. That much became evident to us anytime we'd (a) toss away one or two lives while trying to negotiate our way across Mission 5's log-hopping segment or (b) dump our entire stock in Mission 6's harrowing, nerve-wracking disappearing-and-reappearing-platform section. Such challenges were asking too much of the controls and of us; considering how stiff and sluggish the jumping controls were, it was unreasonable to expect us to successfully pull off multiple precision jumps in a row and do so quickly and capably.
The conveyor-belt, retracting-floor and gear rooms were easier to handle, yes, but because they had spiked floors, there was still a good chance that you could die while traversing them. And you'd do so, mostly, because of the delay that would occur after your jump landed; you'd be stuck in a crouch and prone to be dumped into, dropped, or knocked into a spike pit. So if you weren't careful about what you were doing, this game could kill you off fast.
We knew all of this, yet we loved these rooms and challenges anyway. They were finely implemented, we thought. The real problem, we recognized, were the jumping controls, which worked to make these platforming challenges more difficult than they should have been.
Double Dragon II was a pretty short game (it could be completed in about a half an hour), yes, but we didn't at all consider that to be a negative quality. Quite the opposite: We were happy that it had a very manageable length because that gave us the perfect excuse to play through it multiple times during any of our gaming sessions!
We loved the game that much. We simply couldn't stop playing it!
Still, because we were content to stick to Warrior Mode (the medium difficulty), we didn't achieve true victory for quite a while. Though, eventually (and permanently) we moved on to Supreme Master Mode, which had an awesome extra: an epic boss battle with the Black Shadow Warriors' real leader--a green-haired warrior who could finish you off quickly with his devastating spinning-jump-punch.
Our getting the chance to fight a new boss and thus extend our campaign gave us even more incentive for us to play through the game again. And then again and again and again!
Double Dragon II had so many memorable sights, sounds and scenarios, and we'd look forward to seeing, hearing and experiencing each one of them every time we started up a play-through. We'd enjoy the explosive-sounding fighting moves. Mission 2's neon-green-tinted cityscape background. The bullet-spraying helicopter. The in-flight helicopter battle. The underground base with its spike-lined ceilings. The room in which enemies dropped down through a vertical passage (we liked this room mostly because its construction allowed for us to get the drop on the falling enemies with midair spin kicks). The new flattop-sporting giant (a presumed "new Abobo-family member" who we nicknamed "Arnold," for obvious reasons). Mission 5's mountain shack. The creepy spying eyes that appeared on the Mansion of Terror's walls. The steam-spewing mobile fortress. The final lair's glassy, reflective surfaces, whose crystalline radiance did so much to provide the endgame portion an epic feel. And, well, pretty much everything else in the game!
And it was quite a moment for us when we finally encountered the real final boss (who we called "the Supreme Master" because we thought it was his name in addition to the mode's). We were expecting a considerably challenging fight (something that made our battles with Machine Gun Willy feel like cakewalks in comparison), and that's exactly what he gave us. He wasn't an overwhelmingly difficult boss, no, but still he gave us a big run for our money! It was one of those fights that we won just barely.
The Supreme Master, we agreed, was an awesome final boss. He looked and fought like a "supreme" villain. What really made him stand out to us, though, were his cool-looking attacks--mainly the handstand kick and that spinning-jump-punch; they, much like the guy who utilized them, were instantly memorable.
What we loved most about this final battle, though, was the music that played during its second phase. It was an amazingly epic theme--easily one of the most incredibly intensifying, inspiriting pieces of 8-bit music we'd ever heard. We were so crazy about this tune that we'd sometimes play through the entire game just so we could listen to it and absorb its empowering energy. It was that special to us.
After I bought my own copy of the game, I made it a point to record this theme with my tape recorder and make it a part of one of my personal video-game-soundtrack compilations. And I'd listen to it whenever I wanted to feel inspirited and especially when I needed the appropriate accompaniment to my daydreams about being a Lee Brothers-like ninja master! Also, of course, I liked to make my He-Man action figures dance to it!
On an aside: Recording endgame music always felt taboo to me because it seemed tantamount to capturing some type of "sacred essence"--something that wasn't meant to be contained on such a simple device. So when I'd finish recording a final-battle or credits theme, I'd feel as though I'd come to possess a power of which I was wholly unworthy. That's why I'd get chills whenever I'd play said themes--why, when I'd listen to the (muffled-though-still-powerful) "Supreme Master" music, I'd feel as though I was trespassing upon holy land. There was something surreal about it.
Just thought you'd like to know that.
In the months and years thereafter, my friends and I played through Double Dragon II a countless number of times. We couldn't get enough of it. Whenever or wherever we'd meet up--whether it was at my house or Dominick's or Mike's or Chris' or even houses that belonged to kids who were loosely affiliate with our crew--one thing was guaranteed to occur: a play-through of Double Dragon II!
And for almost half a decade, Double Dragon II maintained its must-play status and thus continued to main event our daylong gaming sessions. Because it could provide us the most concentrated form of deeply satisfying, wonderfully fun fighting action, it served as the perfect capper to any session in which we also played Balloon Fight, Ice Climber, Renegade, Trojan, Metroid, Super Mario Bros. 2, Mega Man 2, Super Mario Bros. 3, and other highly entertaining action games.
In short: Double Dragon II was a Hall-of-Fame NES game, and we loved it to death. We couldn't and wouldn't stop playing it!
What's really weird, though, is that I somehow missed out on the arcade version of Double Dragon II: The Revenge. I knew that it existed because NES Double Dragon II previews were sure to mention that it was a port of a coin-op game, yeah, but I just never saw it in arcades during that time period (if you were an arcade-goer, your game-selection was limited to whichever games caught the interest of local arcade-owners, and apparently Double Dragon II wasn't popular with arcade-owners who resided in Dyker Heights, Brooklyn).
I didn't come across a Double Dragon II machine until years later. And I was excited to see the game in action because I was eager to find out how it compared to its NES counterpart. "If they were able to make one of the medium's all-time-best games on inferior NES hardware," I thought, "then I can only imagine what they were able to do with super-powered arcade hardware!"
Though, it was obvious from the start that arcade Double Dragon II was nowhere near as evolutionary as the NES version. In fact, it wasn't evolutionary at all. Rather, it looked and played exactly like its predecessor!
My hope was that Double Dragon II would be a next-level beat-'em-up that redefined the genre in a very meaningful way, but, sadly, it did nothing of the sort. Instead it was merely a rehash. And that disappointed me greatly.
I got to know arcade Double Dragon II better in the mid-2000s, when I started playing it on MAME. That's when I realized that it was even more of a rehash than I originally thought! Hell--I didn't feel it a stretch to say that it was practically the same game as Double Dragon! And more than 15 years later, I still feel confident in making that assertion.
I'm not kidding: Double Dragon II is structurally identical to its predecessor. Each of its four missions has you traversing the same exact terrain, and any of the differences are purely cosmetic. In Mission 1, for instance, you travel through an airfield that's clearly a visually altered version of the original's city-streets stage (the Dragons even emerge from the same garage!). In Mission 2, you travel through the same warehouse exterior, and the only difference is that the stacked iron girders are now replaced with stacked cinder blocks. In the final lair's opening portion, you have to contend with the very same spear-thrusting statues and horribly sequenced protruding blocks! And even the final battle plays out the same way, with Machine Gun Willy watching on from the platform above and then eventually sauntering his way into the room.
What's more acceptable is the commonality it has with its NES counterpart: The Lee brothers can execute a midair hurricane kick (though, good luck getting it to actually connect). It has some familiar enemies: the bulky masked menaced (who behaves as expected), the Arnold lookalike, the stick-wielding martial artist, and the shadow clones (the game's end bosses). And it features the same soundtrack (an arcade-quality version of it). And these elements help to give the game at least some semblance of a unique personality.
The rest of Double Dragon II's enemy roster is composed of returning foes who, likewise, are merely cosmetically different: Roper has an eyepatch (and thus looks like Metal Gear's Big Boss), Linda sports a mohawk and face paint, the Lee-brother clones have shorter hair, and Abobo now has dreadlocks.
Also, Double Dragon II has its own issues. For one, most of its advanced moves are ineffective. Jump kicks, spin kicks and hurricane kicks rarely connect because enemies are apt to evade them--to instantly react to your inputs and thus promptly enter defensive crouches; and this works to render such moves completely useless. So you'll have no choice but to spend the entire game simply punching and kicking enemies. And, really, what's the fun in that?
Then there's the pitifully lame ending. For your efforts, you get nothing more than a static photo of the Lee brothers creepily, lustfully staring at a peeved-looking Marian, who's seen half-heartedly waving toward the camera in a way that says, "Like, yeah, dudes--thanks and all of that junk."
Really, all three of them look rather unsightly. What in the world was the artist thinking with those depictions? I mean, why are the Lee brothers portrayed as coked-out rockers? Someone tell me.
All I can say is thank goodness for NES Double Dragon II. That game is the true Double Dragon II. That one is the sequel that Double Dragon, an all-time classic video game, truly deserved.
But, unfortunately, those days did end, and they did so way too quickly--well before I could process all of the changes that were occurring around me. And because I made the mistake of thinking that it would all last forever, I never really took the time to savor the present moment. That's why it hurts so much when I think back on that point in my life: I'm always reminded that I didn't make the most of the opportunity.
So when all of my friends were gone, I found it difficult to return to Double Dragon II. Without them, it just wasn't the same; it felt like a flat, empty experience. So I stopped playing it. And ever since then, I've returned to it only a small number of times.
But even then, I continue to have a deep fondness for Double Dragon II. I don't have to play it to remember what a special game it is. I don't have to play it to recall all of the fun I had with it and all of the great memories it supplied me.
Double Dragon II means a lot to me, and I won't ever forget it.
So here's to Double Dragon II: The Revenge--the greatest apology a video-game company has ever made. It gave my friends and I everything we were looking for--everything we had hoped to see in the original NES Double Dragon--and thus established itself as one of the best, most memorable games we ever played.
And, really, who could ask for anything more?
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