It's incredibly rare that a set turns out exactly as intended, but it sometimes happens. Like this one - the intention was to make a set that looked like coffee, and that's just what we got!

Fittingly, this set was sold as a gift for a barista!

Is Shadow Of The Beast on the Amiga a game or a tech demo?

I think it's both! But it was way better at one of those than it was at the other... It also found its way from the more-than-capable Amiga to the less-capable 8-bit machines, during a time when the direction of ports was reversing.

Previously, 8-bit games got jazzed up and pushed out on the 16-bits; later, 16-bit marvels got their wings clipped and were squeezed into the older machines...

So, how did they do? Well, I played 'em all, so you don't have to...

The Amiga port of Shadow of the Beast

There's no question, Shadow of the Beast on the Amiga is a technical delight. It looks great, with smooth graphics, eerily designed levels and atmospheric cut-scenes. The audio is even better, with some of the best early-Amiga music, full of pan-pipes and dreamy synth.

But for all it looks and sounds amazing, it's not a great game.

A side-scrolling "platformer" with confusing level design, lazy placement of monsters, horrendous difficulty and clunky controls, it comes across as frustrating... As much for the missed opportunity as anything.

The C64 port of Shadow of the Beast

The C64 port feels like the worst of a bad bunch, but not by much.

It's blocky and drab, with indistinct graphics and has the same annoying level design of the Amiga, but manages to compound this by going crazy with extra enemy placement. The result is that it feels too hectic and all over the place.

That said, the music is easily the best of the 8-bit bunch, with a marvellous take on the Amiga theme.

The Amstrad port of Shadow of the Beast

The Amstrad port shares a lot of DNA with the Spectrum port, being developed by the same company.

It's still the same old clunky Shadow of the Beast, but this time with the added agony of an extremely questionable colour palette choices.

From the moody, earthy hues of the Amiga original to... checks notes green, blue and yellow. It calms down a bit when you're indoors, but it's hard to get past that opening vista.

Sound is... okay.

The Spectrum port of Shadow of the Beast

On to the Spectrum and... well, listen: This game is a technical showcase on the Amiga. So it was never going to be massively impressive on our feeble rubber-keyed chum. In fact, it's a miracle it runs at all.

That said...

If I called out the Amstrad for colour choice, surely the Spectrum should be similarly criticised? Well, sure, but somehow it works here. The monochrome is expected and garish, but the graphics are clear and it controls pretty much okay. 128k sound is good too.

But it's still Shadow of the Beast, no matter how miraculous the existence of this port is.

So, on the 8-bit micros at least, a narrow Speccy win! But it's a Phyrric victory at best.

The console ports of Shadow of the Beast

Shadow of the Beast also found its way to those fancy consoles that only the posh kids owned...

The Master System gets an okay port with various QoL improvements (continues) and some gameplay tweaks, which improve it somewhat.

The MegaDrive port is slick and sounds great, but it runs too fast and is hard as balls.

The PCEngine CD version is probably the best of the bunch. Like the MS, it has continues, and the CD music is truly awesome!

Honourable mention to the Atari Lynx, with its unexpected port. Colourful, controls okay... but hey, it's still Shadow of the Beast.

I have a problem with nostalgia. I'm addicted to it, but it's never enough.

Most of what I do is dedicated to the pursuit of that drug, to experience that particular high. I play ancient videogames in the hope that they make me feel how I felt playing them in the 80s or 90s. I watch old movies for the same reason. I listen to old music, or music that sounds like old music, trying to evoke the spirit of a time long gone. If I could live in a world where the TV played nothing but He-man and Thundercats and Mysterious Cities of Gold, I would...

But over the last few years I've come to realise that this dogged pursuit of the past is a futile endeavour. Beyond fleeting moments of glorious recognition, I never end up feeling how I felt back then. And why would I? How you feel at a particular time is as much a result of the person you are as it is a response to the thing you are doing.

As an increasingly grumpy nearly-50-year-old, I am a very different being to the awkward 13-year-old I was in 1988. These days, I worry more about retirement plans and interest rates than I do about homework and unrequited love. I am the Ship of Theseus, in which every part of me has been replaced multiple times. My reactions to things are dulled, more refined, more cynical. Not worse, just different.

Back then, I felt like I was leading the vanguard of something genuinely new. Every ZX Spectrum game felt like a voyage into the unknown, a private world that few people knew or cared about. This feeling was heightened by scarcity. I saved pocket money for months just to afford a new game. Whether the game was any good or not was less important than finding something in that game to last me till the next far off purchase. That paucity of novelty caused me to find aspects of a game to enjoy, because I had no other choice.

These days, I have too much choice. I have devices filled with every game across multiple decades, shelves filled with cartridges I'll probably never bother to play. Novelty in abundance, and no incentive to make those precious connections.

And maybe I've seen too much? How can I be wowed by the undulating roads of Outrun or Super Hang On when I've driven every part of Liberty City or San Andreas? How can the freedom of Tir Na Nog thrill me when I've walked for days in Azeroth or Tamriel?

Even worse, I've realised that the nostalgia I crave is often not even my own.

I don't crave the 80s of North East England, all social deprivation and baggy jumpers, the 80s of my actual youth. Instead, I crave the cartoon-ish 80s of the movies I grew up on. I crave NES culture, or long summer nights with chirping insects outside the window, falling asleep in front of a black and white movie marathon, the pink and purple sunsets of a caricature that this narcotic industry has created.

I've realised that the pursuit of nostalgia will never give me what I crave, so I'm trying to change.

I'm trying make a conscious effort to enjoy things for what they are, not what they remind me of. I play games because a 48 year old man wants to play them, not a 13 year old boy. I try to make new connections and associations, rather than rekindle old ones. Elden Ring - sure, that reminds me of the year I got married! Super Mario World - ah yes, the time I took a week off work to get all 96 exits and watch SDGQ! I try to generate new nostalgia, rather than wallow in old.

Most of all, I try to accept that nostalgia is a drug best enjoyed in unexpected moments of recognition, rather than as a constant hunt.

What about you? Do you have your nostalgia craving under control? Or do you still seek those glorious and elusive highs?

Finally finished Psycho Fox on the Sega Master System (via the Miyoo Mini Plus). A classic, albeit a flawed one.

I felt some genuine frustration on the infernal sixth level - a combination of Psycho Fox's heavy momentum and the platform game trope of a slippery ice level... ugh. After that, level 7 felt easy.

I remember this game being much easier when I was a youngster. Curse you, fading reflexes.

It was also the perfect game to play on the MM+. Having Onion OS game states meant that I never reset the game, so the continue option remained available.

This set uses one of my favourite techniques - hydro-dipping (or marbling).

With this technique, you drip special inks onto the surface of some water to make a pattern, then carefully dip a blank dice down into the water so that the ink folds around it. You then cast the patterned blank in resin to seal it.

The skulls in these dice were 3D printed on an Elegoo Mars 2 Pro printer and hand painted. Then they were cast in blank dice, then recast in proper moulds.

We did a run of this design as a full set last year and it proved popular. This time we're doing a run of D6s (for Warhammer/Yahtzee fans!).

I've been lurking and waiting for a dice making community to pop up :)

Dice making was our "pandemic thing". We just started down that rabbit hole one day and it grew and grew. We ended up making and selling a lot of dice, including this set.

It's a petri pour set - where you drip various inks into resin and gravity pulls down creeping strands into the dice body while it cures.

Life has got in the way of making more sets this last six months, but I'm looking for inspiration to get back into it.

I'd love to hear the conversation that took place sometime in the early 90s about converting Lemmings to the humble ZX Spectrum.

"Sir, we've got this great idea for a Spectrum port!" "Go on..." "It's colourful, mouse-driven, with pixel-level graphic detail and many, many moving characters." "Ummm..."

Anyway, somehow someone thought it would be possible and it happened. In fact, it happened to all the 8-bit home computers. But, did it end up as a floater or was it led over the edge to die?

Let's go!

Screenshot of Amiga Lemmings

Everyone knows Amiga Lemmings, right? Of course you do... it's almost the Mario of the Amiga scene. Level after level of convoluted, destructible landscapes. A continuous stream of tiny, potentially multi-talented rodents. Some quirky British humour that manifests in things like the self-destruct button or the catchy music...

It's a game that has aged like fine wine and can still entertain today. If you somehow haven't played it, go dig up a copy today. It's great!

Screenshot of Spectrum Lemmings

Uhoh! first and worst of all is the ZX Spectrum. Actually, I found it difficult to know where to place this one. It plays reasonably well, and captures that basic Lemmings-ness. But it looks so... ugh.

I appreciate the problem. Lemmings requires pixel-level detail; Spectrums can do two colours per 8x8 square. So it is monochrome by necessity. But BOY is it monochrome. It's aggressively monochrome. No nuance or detail. It looks like the Amiga gfx were sampled down to 2 colours and that's it.

Boo!

Screenshot of Amstrad Lemmings

The Amstrad port is better, in looks at least. The graphics are bright and chunky, and the play area is large. What lets this port down is the speed. It's very slow. The "mouse" pointer is unresponsive and sluggish which makes it hard to control.

Also, the music sounds ever so slightly wrong, to the point where it makes you feel on edge.

It's not terrible though.

Screenshot of C64 Lemmings

Best of the 8-bits is the C64 version. This port has good music, the graphics are nice and detailed, and the game is snappy and controls well.

What let's this one down is that the play area is kind of squeezed down to a narrow strip in the centre of the screen. For a game that requires you to see what is coming to the left and the right, this means you end up scrolling a lot. Still, it's not a deal breaker.

So, for 8-bits at least, a C64 win!

Console port comparison

There were many other Lemmings ports, of course, most notably to the popular consoles of the day. This isn't a format you'd expect to do well with a generally mouse-based game, but they all turned out pretty good...

MegaDrive and SNES both got a port. The MD version was my weapon of choice growing up, and it plays really well. The SNES version is similarly good, and both are well worth a look today.

NES got a port, and it's okay, the worst of the consoles... It seems to play way too fast, which makes even the early levels tricksy.

Biggest surprise is the MasterSystem. Its port is rad! Looks great, sounds great, plays really well and has some amazingly clear speech samples.