Lodestar 1000 invites you to press buttons. Buttons that flash in a specific order on the chest plate of a pixelated robot we presume from promotional web material is the titular hero of the game. Those tired with the coloured pie quarters of MB Games’ Simon should look no further than the deliriously complicated strings generated by Lodestar 1000′s interface as it pumps out randomly assigned combinations of the face buttons, d-pad and analogue sticks at a mildly alarming pace. Thanks to BadRadish for sending us a download code for this review.

Attempting to sell on little more than its retro style, Lodestar offers an original chip-tune soundtrack created dynamically with play, colossal pixel art and a co-operative play mode allowing friends to tag along and help with the vitally important memorisation of colour and direction.

“BOP IT! TWIST IT!”

Bop It has somehow proved itself a permanent, personal disappointment. The Simon styled gameplay remains decently entertaining, but the jarring clunk of the plastic atrocity’s obnoxiously ‘œwacky’ samples triggered un-quantised over a boom, boom, pow rhythm assaults my inner desire for musically sound syncopation with every draining ‘œpass it!’.  Lodestar 1000 manages to flare the same irksome desire for theoretically adhered rhythm as its ‘œ8 bit sound effects’, which the developer boasts have been ‘œsampled from commodore 64 SID chip’, fire at button command rather than the aesthetically pleasing rubatto of Tetsuya Mizuguchi helmed titles like Lumines and Rez.

Indeed, unlockable quickplay allows true manipulation of sound as the player mashes buttons to trigger the lovingly sampled Commodore effects. Yet the absence of rudimentary recording deems the game’s only progression goal outside of high score quietly moot. The herculean task itself of scoring 16 in order to free the mode from its shackles proved literally impossible when played solo; the whole pad inclusion removing the simplistic moreishness of the title’s ancient, plastic precursor. The number ten flashed continually in mocking reverie: a constant barrier to entry and brick wall against which my controller threatened to fly as Lodestar the character crackled “game over” through his monochrome grill.

“Difficult, difficult, lemon, difficult.”

The game is too hard. As a maligned reboot to an apparently ailing format, the four very separate interfaces for memory response did little aside from aggravate. What would be a seemingly simple series presented over four big button options suddenly grew tenfold in difficulty as motor memory was called upon to remember combinations built from 16 possible movements. That patterns remaining in permanent sets (the player was only ever asked to remember sequences of four from face, right analogue, d-pad and left analogue in constant turn) did little to facilitate progress over several sessions, with near immediate failure alongside the addition of the final stick with frustratingly clockwork regularity.

The juxtaposition between the opening coloured call’s patronising arrow and the hurricane speed of the command avalanche mere clicks from initiation is laughable. It is clear that the developer built the title around pad rather than attention to fun or function. Even to a veteran of memory recall, the speed at which directions are layered and repeated surely hinder absorption, playback and enjoyment.

“Can you handle it?” asks the game’s website, cackling knowingly and plying the player with the promise of co-op to ease the burden with the collective. Yet Lodestar 1000′s co-op exists only in that the game registers input from any controllers plugged in. In theory, players can work together, handling inputs from a single stick, effectively compartmentalising duties diplomatically amongst an alert, motivated team. In practice, the first 15 attempts end with a player buzzing out of turn, with further throngs making gentle headway before inevitable button matching boredom sets in and the play session is rounded out by deliberate, though “accidental”, sabotage.

A few other points worth mentioning:

• The background landscape changes dynamically every four points alongside subtle changes in the title’s music. Aside from the points counter rising, that’s all you get as a marker of progress.
• Overall presentation is pleasingly retro-chunky, presumably to tie neatly with the stone age gameplay.
• With its singular addition unlocked, there is no point to continue play past 16 points.

Even ignoring the fact that there are thousands of more enjoyable Simon clones built in flash and available free online, the game’s 80 MS Point price tag is very hard to justify. Unless you play the demo and love the music so much that the relatively paltry cost in fixed currency tickles the chiptune hero inside of you, the effort it takes to purchase and start the game, remaining interested rather than rolling comatose in repeated failure is hardly worth even small change when the service can offer so much more for the same price.

You should play this game if’¦

…you can exercise gaming restraint and stand able to refuse the overwhelming urge to resort to scrawling pattern on paper like a filthy cheat in order to make assured progress.

Final Score

In spite of its lightning pace, Lodestar 1000 feels tired and empty. The core of the game is wafer thin and despite an assured retro stance in both concept and presentation, the title falls short of even leading its field within the niche of XBLIG.

(What does this score mean?)