Developer: Toys For Bob Publisher: Activision Release: Nov 13, 2018 Reviewed: PlayStation 4 Review copy purchased.
Alright, let’s wipe the dirt out of the windscreen first. It warrants considerable suspicion that 
Activision didn’t fit all three Spyro games onto the same physical media – whether that be a single disc, or double disc arrangement as per Red Dead Redemption 2 – and offered a day one patch™ excuse as defense. Not only does this deprive gamers with slow (or completely nonexistent) internet connections from comfortably accessing Ripto‘s Rage and Year of the Dragon, something which should be every paying customer’s right, it also sets up a rather bizarre situation for, say, 20 years from now when online servers have their life support switched off, and whoever purchased the game (regardless of whether it was digitally or physically) can no longer play it in its entirety. Cash grab for when the Reignited trilogy re-releases on next-gen, non backwards compatible consoles? I bloody well hope not.
But let us move onto brighter things, like Toys For Bob’s wonderful reimagining of a 20 year old franchise. Through strokes of breathtaking artistic talent, Spyro has been transformed into a gorgeously detailed 3D beastling that would bring long-time fans to tears. Happy tears. To think that in the span of two decades, this little, tiny purple dragon and the environments he inhabits would be revamped and remodelled into vibrant assemblies that pulsate with such life and personality is quite simply, astonishing. Compare the following for yourself:
The story is frighteningly brief. A few lines of dialogue here and there, that’s all she wrote. If you’re expecting a Jane Austen novel, you’d be better off marching straight through the doors of your local library. Spyro Reignited Trilogy couldn’t be more obvious in its intended audience with its glitzy go-go-go hyperactivity, but you know what? Who freaking cares, because it gives you multiple little breaks, and despite the occasional cheesiness, not once does it come across as insincere. There’s a cheekiness in the script that was totally absent in Insomniac’s other remaster, Ratchet & Clank. For anyone who’s worried about Spyro’s attitude getting neutered in favour of a generic pollyanna hero, please rest assured. And if you’ve sighed one too many times at those beautiful but barren open world vistas with neverending grind, and gnash your teeth whenever you hear the word ‘microtransactions’, Spyro is the antidote. The game quite literally consists of running around and collecting shit. Gems, to be precise. You’ve got red gems, green gems, blue gems, yellow gems, purple gems, and holy Hylian Loach am I feeling Zelda déjà vu right now (Ocarina of Time came out after Spyro so make of that what thou will).
Spyro is a sassy little ball of purple energy who loves arson more than anything. I’m pretty sure he’d be incarcerated for animal cruelty in the real world (those poor, unfortunate sheep), but in Dragon Realms, none of that matters. In complete contrast to his obnoxious personality are 60 dragon compatriots who come in all shapes and sizes, and sometimes suffer from amnesia. Saving them — which is your main objective aside from gem collection — involves simply bumping into them. It’s unexpectedly satisfying, and your efforts are frequently acknowledged with a repetitive yet sweet ‘thank you for rescuing me!’. Ahh, I love the smell of 90s innocence in the early afternoon. You practically taste the choc chip cookies. For this, and bringing to life the humour and personality of the Insomniac original, Toys For Bob is to be commended.
The team might’ve repackaged the authenticity of gem hoarding and dragon deliverance in a prettier skin, but even newcomers (like myself) will be able to enjoy the preservation of Spyro‘s taut, squeaky clean levels, which flaunt confidence in every molecule of their design. It’s obvious Insomniac knew exactly how to arrange collectibles in a consistent, logical fashion (excluding a handful of wacky challenges where common sense simply does not apply) in ’98, and coming straight from Jak and Daxter: The Precursor Legacy, Ratchet & Clank Remastered and a Yooka-Laylee cleanup, I was simply amazed at how quickly and easily you could amass hundreds of gems. It’s absolutely crazy. In TPL, you had scout flies hidden in obscure areas and power cells locked behind challenges that frequently tested your patience. To gaze back at another 3D platforming relic, Banjo-Kazooie kneaded in a whole host of progression-blockers: there were special manoeuvres you needed to finish particular areas, but first, you needed to learn the manoeuvres through Bottles, and that required an arbitrary amount of musical notes, but of course that depended on having digested enough of the level to begin with, so everything came full circle. Opening new worlds was a similar affair since Grunty had pre-sealed them with jigsaw piece podiums that demanded a fairly hefty collectible sacrifice. So it was surprising to realise the only real progression gating in Spyro is the balloonist who requests a rather meagre amount of dragons be rescued before you can access new worlds, and the former are almost always in plain sight.
Emphasis on almost always, because a few head-scratchers will pop up from time to time — like the infamously difficult to reach dragons of Tree Tops, or the convoluted corridors you’ll need to navigate in Haunted Towers, followed by a fiendish timed staircase with a low margin of error. It’s these inconspicuous and more unintuitive platforming sections, along with the egg-thief challenges, that provide most of Spyro‘s real challenge. The most aggravating parts in my opinion, however, are the optional levels that bear ‘flight’ in their names.
My major nitpick with every single one of these aerial gauntlets — and as critics we must unfortunately mention these — is the inability to uninvert controls. I’m aware many gamers who were raised on either flight sims or GoldenEye 007 probably have no issue with inverted Y axes (move joystick up to look down, move it down to look up), but to say it’s inconceivable in 2018 that a developer wouldn’t include the option to uninvert controls is an understatement. Last year’s Ōkami came pre-loaded with inverted x and y axes, although Clover and Capcom had the decency to give players an option to switch. 
While some players seemed peeved about Spyro‘s lack of subtitles — a notable ommision from an accessibility perspective — I was more peeved about the lack of standard controls. Believe me, spending thirty minutes on each of the five tracks just to unlearn muscle memory on top of figuring out an effective path and battling against what seems like a rapidly eroding timer is pretty taxing on the brain. Particularly when the design of each course — unlike the beautiful simplicity of the main levels — is generally a confusing mess with poor signposting. There’s also a lot more visual ‘splashes’ that momentarily confuse you, and despite the annoying absence of any virtual nudges for Lakitu-esque reorientation, you do slowly develop a set of skills for forthcoming challenges. That said, this YouTube comment is a pretty concise summary of how I felt whenever I started a new one:
Apart from those glaring control issues, tiny inconsistencies gnawed away at my enjoyment, such as the fact Spyro cannot use his flame attack while charge-running, or the way he automatically dips post-glide rather than staying perfectly straight. You may think the latter of those points is insignificant and hence not worth mentioning, but barely missing a landing because you’re just below the height requirement (and falling to your doom) gets tedious fast. Nevertheless, Spyro handles well on the whole, and I didn’t encounter any unresponsive inputs or glitches, and after conquering the final boss, I eagerly proceeded to scoop up his loot in a highly rewarding bonus level. Darn it, I wish more 3D platformers had encores like this.
Spyro 2: Ripto’s Rage kicks off from where its prequel left us, and introduces some fresh touches. For starters, it’s much tougher to accidentally kill yourself, and Spyro doesn’t auto-drown whenever he touches water, opening up new, exciting avenues of exploration. The progression system has been tweaked for the better. Balloonists are nowhere to be seen, but we have ‘Moneybags’, a financially exploitative ursine who demands monetary compensation (aka gems) in exchange for unlocking worlds, speedways, and teaching Spyro new moves. There’s also a rudimentary ‘hover’ technique Spyro’s bestie Hunter teaches him at the very beginning, a move I’m not very fond of, but combined together, all these abilities do inject some very decent platforming variety into gameplay. Compared to its predecessor, Ripto’s Rage comes with a few more exciting improvements, including richer cutscenes, better plot continuity, witty pop culture references, and a convincing, natural characterisation that permeates every crevice — from the hilarious antagonist, to the quirky anthropomorphs you meet leading up to his arena, to Spyro himself.
This time, levels are no longer gorgeous but thematically banal gem banks. They’re beacons of cultural diversity. I was utterly entranced by the mysterious chants of the brethren in Hurricos, thoroughly amused at the antics of the bagpipe-playing satyrs in Fracture Hills, and by the time dancing Irish goats and zen philosophers materialised on my screen, I just conceded defeat. Ripto‘s Rage had won me over, fair and square. Insomniac outdid themselves, and Toys For Bob’s enhancements only made a fantastic game better. Sadly, the speedways (Ripto’s Rage flight stage equivalent) are still a major sore point. I’ll admit they’re slightly more forgiving than Spyro‘s hell rides. But the inverted y axis controls still give no wiggle room, and the design of each course remains a dog’s breakfast, bar Canyon Speedway at the very end. One can only take so many kaleidoscopic lights at once before getting overwhelmed and flying around in a confused stupor. Other challenges I despised lined up nicely with the historically hated: Hunter’s crystal popcorn challenge round 2 (never again), defeating bug dracelets (anxiety unleashed), and chasing after that one kangaroo in Mystic Marsh’s treetops (a sadist’s dream). Strangely, there is a certain perverse joy I got from completing those supercharge sections in Robotica Farms and Fracture Hills…so maybe it is a good thing all these challenges are in the game, after all. On a more positive note, I’d like to heap endless praise on the wide array of tasks presented in each level. Although the egg-thieves depart, we’re gifted with seed puzzles, herding ‘cowleks’ (an adorable take on the cuckoos/yakows exercises), a fabulously designed trolley segment with deliciously responsive mechanics — sheer bliss, blasting down sheep saucers in the sky, and a very Zeldaesque trading sequence in Mystic Marsh. Suffice to say, you’ll never be bored.
The final boss battle with Ripto is how Capital B should have been: satisfyingly fun. Gulp’s very effective dodging tutorial is more than adequate preparation for sidestepping deadly fireballs, lasers and flame rings; you’ll have a grand old time playing through three cycles of round the ring mayhem with a fab flying bit to close it off. Incidentally, I experienced glitched playthroughs with both these characters (Gulp & Ripto) where they displayed temporary invincibility — but thankfully it wasn’t permanent. The fantastic trilogy draws to a close with Year of the Dragon, where cultural diversity lives on not only within themed levels but much more memorable characters — some of whom are playable protagonists with unique capabilities: Sheila the true blue kangaroo, Sgt. Byrd, Agent 9, Bentley the yeti and Spyro’s bosom buddy Sparx form a serviceable ensemble. Most of their Spyro-less adventures are actually very decent minigames despite the occasionally rough kinetics and handling (I’d wager the rushed release schedule is to blame); Sheila’s one-off transition to 2D roo hopping, blowing up cat witches and emancipating hummingbirds as the sergeant, and Sparx’s shmup showdowns against bigger bugs will keep you entertained with simple gimmicks, but Agent 9’s missions are a cut above the rest. In Dino Mines, he transforms into a rootin’-tootin’ cowboy and the camera enters FPS mode for a shooting gallery that is figuratively and literally a blast.
I’m also happy to report speedway challenges are simpler in Year of the Dragon, although, the price we pay (there’s always a price) is reduced level of satisfaction. They’ve become more tutorialised, with Sparx feeding you tips and instructions beforehand in his precious voice, and I couldn’t help but feel vindicated after enduring the ill-defined courses in Spyro and Ripto’s Rage. Even the time limit was perfectly calculated, beating my former critiques to a pulp, and yet I walked away feeling a slightly tougher challenge 
wouldn’t have hurt. On the other hand, perhaps the difficulty was lowered because of the dragons in Fireworks Factory. You know the ones. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an anxiety-inducing boss design for a while; not only must you deal with liberal doses of enemy self-regeneration, you also must accept the hitboxes aren’t always consistent, and finally, you will remember Spyro’s short-ish flame range isn’t going to do you any favours. Buzz? Walk in the park. Spike? A breeze. Gulp? Annoying, but doable. Most of the bosses feel as if they’ve been nerfed in comparison to the other games. But the twin Dragons are my exception. Who on earth angered an ancient Chinese double-deity enough to awaken it? I bet it was Handel and Greta. Those duplicitous little killjoys.
Last but not least, we have one aspect of a game’s design I am simply incapable of ignoring: music. When it’s done without enthusiasm, my heart overflows with the agony of disappointment. I’d tried and failed to appreciate the auditory menu in Spyro and Ripto’s Rage, and eventually resigned myself to the fact these games simply hadn’t been endowed with very remarkable OSTs. Music is supposed to tell a story. When you listen to it, you should be able to imagine some kind of scenario through the key, rhythm, note selection, and/or style, and form a connection between the level and its ‘voice’. But then, from deep inside the musical drought, pieces with attitude began to emerge. Before I could only see a black, empty canvas, thrown against a dusty wall, but suddenly, Year of the Dragon switched a light on; Nancy’s ice-skating routine melody and the militaristic punch of Sgt. Byrd’s Base caused an explosion of colourful delight — with the latter hinting at the future Deku Palace theme in Majora’s Mask.
The magic continued in Enchanted Towers’ skate park, striking again in Frozen Altars, where you can hear tropical flavours that flow into each other like a cool milkshake melting into the sand, and there’s a tiny crack in the upbeat halo from which a minor bar escapes — that’s the icy part. Or should I say, the snowmen invading Frozen Altars and causing general pandemonium. Also, in a rather magnificent touch, charging into the elephants in this world causes them to trumpet in a way that’s identical to the instrument, and this just adds to the score. This was such a brilliant track that if I didn’t know any better, I’d assume it was a long lost David Wise penned composition that never made its way into Donkey Kong.
So, is Spyro Reignited Trilogy worth a dip in the money jar? Has Toys For Bob honoured Insomniac’s original vision with a compelling remake that captures all the highlights and lowlights of yore? You betcha.
Advice: Purchase this one at full price and bask in 3D platforming glory like it’s 1998 all over again.
Spyro Reignited Trilogy is out now for PS4 and Xbox One.
☆☆☆Purchase links: PlayStation Store | Microsoft Store]]>