For those who may or may not be wondering where the hell I’ve been lately, the answer is mostly along the lines of being up to my ears in code. I’ve been working pretty hard on Remnant Core, the roguelike project I started in October and put on the bench for a couple of months before digging out again. While there isn’t anything to show off to the public yet, all I can do is assure those who have shown an interest in the project that things are coming along nicely, and I’ve got some screenshots in the Remnant Core section of the site if you want a peek, though it’s early days yet.

Truth be told, most of the work so far has been going into the engine and the structure of the game; I admit I’ve made a lot of mistakes in the early days and more or less had to scrap and re-build everything from scratch around December, and it was largely put on hold aside from a little tinkering until March, but it’s been coming in leaps and bounds over the last month. Debugging has also become less of a pain in the ass, as I’ve got some nicely integrated code to output a more helpful message during segfaults, and recently solved an infinite-loop problem with the city generator which had been baffling me for a good hour before I finally broke down, wrote extra code to output logs to a text file, and sifted through the several megs of output.

19:02 building_a(): Mapping out secondary rooms.
19:02 building_a(): Second sweep for secondary rooms.
19:02 building_a(): Viable green areas found: 0. Cutting out corridors.

Oops. That’s what I get for making assumptions: The secondary corridor routine requires at least one green area (a colour-coded identifier for a certain shape and type of generated rooms), preferably a dozen or more. At least now that’s nailed down, I can see about re-implementing the limited-tries system (which will grudgingly accept below-average quality constructions after trying more than a hundred or so times — with a little luck it won’t segfault this time), and start work on the second building generator. Complicated stuff, but it’ll all be worth it in the end, I guarantee it.

And there it is. Perfect. Pure. This is what I wanted in my stomach today. Oh yes.

To say I don’t cook very often would be an understatement; in fact, I’d go as far as to suggest that the vast majority of my diet is based upon microwaved ready-meals and various pre-made concoctions that come in tins. Occasionally I’ll branch out and experiment — such as the time I successfully re-heated cooked sausages by using a toaster — but for the most part, it’s best for everyone’s sake that I refrain. Today, I decided to attempt an ill-fated experiment with making enchiladas, courtesy of an Old El Paso meal kit. Having had excellent results from the nachos kit in the past, what could go wrong?

As it turns out, a great deal.

Given that the kit provides enough food for 3-4 people, I decided to go halves on the ingredients. Easy — I’d bought two packs of cooked chicken and a bag of grated cheese, but it was easy enough to separate the cheese and only open a single pack of chicken. The pre-heating the oven and slicing the chicken parts went pretty well, too, though of course I got a couple of oil splashes from stir-frying said chicken. The fail begins when I was instructed to mix the “spice mix” powder with hot water, and combine that with both sachets of tomato sauce. I did so, splashing tomato substance all over the kitchen and myself numerous times in the process, and it was only after I looked upon my creation with pride before I remembered the whole halves thing.

Shit.

I feel like a kid on Christmas Eve who just discovered Santa isn't real.

Time to fry up more chicken and acquire more minor oil-burns (including, of course, fumbling and pouring far too much oil into the pan), realizing the bowl wasn’t even big enough to combine the new quantities of chicken and cheese required and thus having to combine them clumsily into a larger bowl (more spillage), chicken going everywhere as I tried to combine the un-mixed and mixed parts together. But surely, even if I end up with too much food, it can’t go wrong now?

Wrong again. Now it comes to spooning the filling into the tortillas, during which point I somehow managed to get spicy tomato sauce all over my leg without even fully understanding how. I also realized that the baking tray it required was currently used to house the sauce/cheese/chicken mixture, requiring yet another messy transfer before my truly appalling attempts to wrap the filling in the circles of corn and wheat. And then I realize the baking tray is far, far too small, requiring the kind of desperation that only a starving chef could appreciate, literally forcing the things down into a barely-coherent mass in the tray, my miscalculations on filling size providing less and less in each tortilla, which helped only slightly. Pouring on the rest of the sauce and the remainder of the cheese, more tomato goodness went everywhere.

Finally — not sure if the tray is oven-safe or not but hardly caring at this point — I thrust it into the kiln-like depths and awaited the result.

The results: Not quite as advertised, though I blame myself entirely for this failure. A mass of gooey, red-and-yellow sludge topped with what almost resembles elbow macaroni, concealing beneath a sad, crushed amalgm of god only knows what, forced into far too small a space with all the wrong quantities, begging to be eaten just so it can be put out of its miserable existence.

And this is why I’m not a chef.

After the dreadful experience I had with the random number generator next time, where I was compelled to sample (and review) the loathesome nettle tea which I’ve acquired such a distaste for, imagine my surprise and joy when next confronted with the number 7 — lucky for some, and apparently for me too, as that was the number for my personal favourite of the entire collection, something I’ve literally swigged (swug?) out of a pint glass many a-time before. That’s right, as you’ve no doubt guessed from the obtrusive and blatant picture to the left, I’m talking about Camomile & Spiced Apple — another Twinings, I know — from their absolutely fantastic “a moment of calm” range.

This one’s the ultimate chill-out drink for me; while it’s yet to be tested in moments of stress, it performs fabulously when I’m already feeling chill, reducing me to a bubbling pile of protozoic matter. Much like Mr. T’s mother, there is no other, and I can’t say enough good things about this sublime combination. For the curious, the “spiced” element refers to cinnamon, and I think that addition complements the flavour wonderfully.

Let’s start with the bags, which are usually where I judge my initial impressions: Slightly musky, but generally an overall pleasant and aromatic smell, a reversal of roles as we’ll see soon, as the apple is fairly subdued and the cinnamon definitely takes the forefront, with the camomile staying firmly in the middle.

Add the hot water, and the magic happens: The result is a very pretty amber brew with a distinct aroma of apples. The flavour is almost a reverse of the untainted bags, with apple being the dominant flavour and the cinnamon hanging in the background, barely noticeable but distinctly improving the flavour in its own subtle way. The end result is a very gentle, soothing mixture with a surprisingly pleasant aftertaste, its only real crime being perhaps too subtle at times, though in a way I think due to the nature of the drink — intended to be soothing and calming — it suits this pigeonhole perfectly.

This certainly isn’t the best way to start your mornings, and is perhaps best left for the later hours when relaxing and unwinding at the end of a long day. It’s hard for me to not be in a great mood with a mug of this stuff in one hand, and add that to a generally relaxed end-of-the-day atmosphere and some Chopin, and you’ve got probably the most chilled-out Gravecat you ever did see. Five stars — no, six fucking stars. Seven. Twelve. I can’t praise this one highly enough, and my hat is off to Twinings for such a marvellous creation.

You’ve seen my take on the best zones the Megadrive/Genesis Sonic the Hedgehog games had to offer — now it’s time to look at what I believe are the worst five zones of the series! I’m sure I may tread on a few toes by doing this, but such is the nature of blogging, and as before, I’m always interested in hearing what my readers think on the topic. So without further ado, here’s my bottom five, the most loathed of all:

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#5: Flying Battery Zone (Sonic & Knuckles)

I’m going to get flak for this, but hear me out. What do you get if you combine Wing Fortress Zone with Metropolis Zone, and add a few smatterings of Scrap Brain Zone? That sounds like the recipe for one of the best zones in Sonic history, and while Flying Battery Zone has a great theme and possibly one of my favourite musical scores of the entire series (the Sonic series has great music, but this one truly stands head and shoulders above the rest), it all falls flat on its face for one big reason: It’s far, far too cruel.

Between switches that spew fire, spike-lined tunnels with screw-like elevators which can easily crush an unfortunate hedgehog, rotating tunnels which must be exited with precision lest you fall off the bottom of the screen and die, spikes, electricity, and many, many things which can crush and kill you instantly, Flying Battery Zone is an excercise in controller-snapping frustration. There’s simply no relenting moment in the constant stream of stressful assaults — it even employs tricks as dirty as containment pods that spew out enemies, and run-or-die hedgehog-crushing action as the level collapses at the end. This is truly an experiment in sadism, and if that’s the case, it was a roaring success.

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#4: Aquatic Ruin Zone (Sonic 2)

This was actually quite a difficult choice to make — while I adore the visual style and theme of the Aquatic Ruin Zone and it has a fantastic soundtrack and even a great boss battle at the end, it’s all let down by one fatal flaw: It’s fucking annoying to play. Between the arrow-chucking pillars, hidden enemies that burst out of walls, collapsing floors, falling pillars, precision jumps, and frequent underwater segments complete with drowning, this zone is just a massive pain in the ass.

It’s mostly a shame due to wasted potential; this could easily have been the successor and redeemer of the Labyrinth Zone, but instead Sega went down the route of making a “challenging” (which usually translates to “irritating”) experience, and the choice of being chased by arrows or forced underwater is hardly a pleasant one to make. It’s certainly not the worst zone of the series and I will concede that the boss fight at the end with the totem poles is actually a hell of a lot of fun (if too easy), but I’m afraid that’s not enough to redeem the rest of this miserable experience.

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#3: Hydrocity Zone (Sonic 3)

I think it’s an unwritten law of video games that every platformer must feature at least one water-based level, and with but a few exceptions, these levels tend to be universally-hated. Hydrocity Zone is no exception to that rule, and as well as the typical annoyances of water-based levels — drowning being the prime offender here — a number of other obnoxious features are added to make the experience all the more annoying. Piranha Badniks that latch on and prevent Sonic from jumping, spikes that appear out of nowhere, fans and water currents that force the poor hedgehog around, all while accompanied by a jazzy and meh soundtrack that sounds like upbeat elevator music.

The bosses are hit-and-miss in this zone — the act 1 miniboss is frankly nothing short of annoying, though the act 2 boss is actually quite unique and interesting, offering multiple ways to provide his demise. Nontheless, it can’t change the fact that Hydrocity Zone is a pain to play, and one of those zones that I dread having to trawl through at all.

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#2: Marble Garden Zone (Sonic 3)

The best way to describe this sprawling tedium of a zone is “boring”. The zone is frankly obscene in its size — likely one of the largest in the series — though much of it consists of running up and down slopes, being propelled along by gyroscopes at top speed, and impaling your skull on a dozen razor-sharp steel spikes that you swear weren’t there a second ago. Or at least you would, if you weren’t so busy bleeding like a burst soda can.

Marble Garden Zone isn’t even so much hard as it is a mind-numbing slog, spattered with the occasional flecks of bullshit, and including both immensely annoying boss battles and one of those all-so-fun sections where you’re fleeing through a collapsing level, trying to avoid being crushed into paste at every turn while racing against the clock and dodging falling debris. There are simply no redeeming qualities about this train-wreck of a zone — even the music is decidedly meh — though it can only be beaten in terms of terribleness by…

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#1: Labyrinth Zone (Sonic 1)

Nothing says “I wish I was dead” like the Labyrinth Zone. Waterfalls, precision jumping, drowning, crushing, spikes, hidden switches, hidden enemies, obnoxious boss battles, and all manner of other nasties combine to make this the single most abhorrent zone of the series. What were they thinking? Worse, still, is that the final Scrap Brain Zone act is an albino clone of Labyrinth Zone, bringing us back once more to the nightmare.

This is not only one of the hardest zones in the first Sonic game — if not the hardest — but it’s also the one that’s most likely to have you throwing your controller at the screen in frustration, after dying in a thoroughly humiliating and unfair fashion for the twentieth time. Whatever masterful skill went into crafting most of the Sonic zones has seemingly been lost with this disgrace of a zone, not helped much by its thoroughly mediocre soundtrack and weak graphic design. Sega, you have shamed yourselves.

Ahh, Sonic the Hedgehog, a game series close to the hearts of gamers worldwide despite being sullied by literally years of terrible products, the misty-eyed nostalgia of the glory days long-since past still impossible to forget. I for one was an almost obsessive fan of Sonic as a kid — I had the toys, the comics, all the games, the cartoons, the works. With the advent of Sonic 4 – and after reading this post over at VG Nostalgia — I got to thinking about the classic days of the Genesis, and some of the great times I had.

With that said, here’s my take on the top 5 zones from the classic Sonic series on the Megadrive/Genesis. I’m curious to hear other peoples’ thoughts on the matter, so you’re more than welcome to list your own favourites in the comments! (Of course, you’re not just limited to the 16-bit era; that’s just my personal bias.) Keep your eyes peeled, because soon I’ll be making another post about the worst five zones in the Sonic series. But until then, here’s the cream of the crop:

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#5: Green Hill Zone (Sonic 1)

While perhaps not the most technically accomplished zone in the Sonic series, this list would be a shambles without at least a mention of the iconic Green Hill Zone, the charming and vibrant first level of the Sonic series which has been recreated time and time again in various incarnations throughout the games (Emerald Hill, Angel Island, Mushroom Hill, and so on). It’s frankly impossible for any retrogamer worth his salt to not be enthralled by the gorgeous scenery and simple-yet-enjoyable gameplay as our blue friend makes his way across rolling hills, beneath waterfalls, and over yawning chasms, all to the energetic and upbeat theme music.

The boss at the end of act 3 is similarly iconic, Robotnik making his first attempt to slay the azure devil by attaching a huge, swinging wrecking ball to the base of his flying Egg-o-Matic, aiming to pummel our hero into cerulean paste. Green Hill Zone also introduces many familiar tropes of the Sonic series, such as collapsing platforms, speedy sections with looping trails, and even möbius strips in the iconic checkerboard pattern. If ever there was a perfect introduction to the world of Sonic the Hedgehog, it’d be the Green Hill Zone.

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#4: Icecap Zone (Sonic 3)

While perhaps not my favourite soundtrack in the Sonic series, Icecap Zone more than makes up for this loss with a beautiful and excellently-designed series of levels, starting with Sonic snowboarding down the side of a snow-covered mountain before having to face off against legions of dastardly foes, sliding platforms, destructible scenery, and even freeze rays! Perhaps one of the more experimental zones in the series, Icecap Zone is a little hit-and-miss in parts but largely delivers thanks to its unique mechanics and interesting — if often cruel — flow.

Icecap Zone is the level you love to hate, and it’ll have the player pulling out his (or her) hair in frustration after one too many times crushed, frozen, impaled, or one of many other fates that await Sonic. However, despite often being frustrating and outright unfair, I think this zone perhaps defines Sonic 3 for me personally, summing up its improved and changed gameplay (which Sonic & Knuckles perfected beautifully) while providing a worthy challenge to even hardened Sonic veterans.

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#3: Sandopolis Zone (Sonic & Knuckles)

The spiritual successor to the oft-loathed Oil Ocean Zone, Sandopolis replaces the lakes of oil and industrial constructions with a desert of quicksand and a predictably Egyptian theme, providing both some of my favourite Badniks in the series (the scorpion robot and the sand-dwelling cousin of Caterkiller) and some fitting background music, as well as formidable agility puzzles, block-pushing, and some of the most unique and interesting level design you’ll see in S&K.

Sandopolis really comes into its own in act 2, however, when Sonic makes his way through an ancient temple and must contend with not only sand-flows and timed doors, but also keep pulling switches to keep the place illuminated — not only does this help you to find your way and not run face-first into a wall full of spikes, but it also drives away the resident population of ghosts, who would like nothing more than to destroy this unwelcome intruder. Combine that with some great boss fights, and you’ve got a clear winner on your hands.

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#2: Lava Reef Zone (Sonic & Knuckles)

In my opinion the most visually stunning of the Genesis Sonic series, Lava Reef Zone is not only an experience that thoroughly blew me away when the game was new, but a masterpiece of level design coupled with a superb and catchy soundtrack. Spanning three acts rather than the usual two (though the latter is little more than a glorified boss battle), I simply can’t say enough good things about the experience from start to finish, one that is both punishing and challenging in many ways, but also deeply rewarding as you pursue your mustachioed nemesis through the molten innards of Mobius.

Admittedly, much of the appeal is purely in the visual element — the artwork is probably the best seen in any Genesis Sonic game (purely my opinion, of course) and the experience of adventuring through such a vibrant, dynamic locale is truly a thing to behold, especially back in the 16-bit era where graphics such as this were some of the best you’d ever see. However, the classic Sonic gameplay shines through in the form of deadly agility puzzles, speedy action sequences, and avoidable yet cruel traps first and foremost involving balls of fire and huge lakes of molten lava.

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#1: Chemical Plant Zone (Sonic 2)

If there was anything that could be defined as the perfect Sonic zone, the quintessential example of what made the Sonic series such an avalanche of success in the 90s, I think Chemical Plant Zone sums it up in spades. Almost every Sonic trope is present here, from the water hazards — represented by the lingering doom of the Mega Mack pools — to the classic moving staircases that first made their debut in Sonic 1′s Starlight Zone, from fast-paced action over helix-shaped walkways and around the classic loops, to floating platforms and hazardous terrain.

It’s a clear remake of Scrap Brain Zone, but it’s done in such a fantastic way — and with arguably the best soundtrack in Sonic history — that all is forgiven. My only complaint would be the Badnik foes on this level, which were both surprisingly sparse and not terribly memorable, but that just speaks all the more loudly about the quality of construction that went into the level design itself. I challenge you to find a Sonic zone with more fantastic design, fast-paced gameplay, memorable music, and a great mechanic like the pressure tubes. I think you’d be hard-pressed to top this one, and that’s why Chemical Plant Zone is my number one all-time favourite of the series.