Luigi's Mansion

this is genuinely a third-person shooter / survival horror game. it has all of the design principles. no place to return for unlimited healing / save points only in certain areas (i.e the toad rooms) / defeat enemies by using the most effective weapon, but you can't always have the effective weapon for *every* enemy, leading you to make decisions to prioritize your gear (do you take fire, water, or ice elemental?)

well, that kinda sounds like resident-goddamn-evil on the playstation to me. long winding hallways with various paths, some locked until later to get you backtracking back to an older stage, where you suddenly recognize how much stronger you have become. the enemies here are no match for you. you have learned how to counter everything that game throws at you.

then you go to the next stage, and on this stage, the game decides to scare you once more. perhaps it shouts "hey! don't get comfortable! i'm a horror game, remember?" as dire events occur in the story. this plot point will be followed by a noticeable increase in difficulty (new types of enemies that are immune to your previous weaponry, more difficult in general to hit). this type of gameplay is foundational to the genre of horror in video gaming.

Luigi finds his brother turned into a painting, but is unable to rescue him. Dejected, he returns to the lab, where he turns several ghosts into paintings (why was Mario a painting?), then returns to the mansion. But the threat is greater now. Some enemies require elemental damage. Some ghosts must be killed with fire, water, or ice. He can only take one element. Which does he choose? There are ghosts that damage him when sucked into the Poltergust now, so he can no longer run through the hallways using it to suck up anything in his way. He had gotten comfortable.

this example coupled with a side-by-side comparison of the door opening cutscenes from resident evil, you can safely call Luigi's Mansion a Survival Horror game. a bit light on the blood and gore, but clearly embodying the same structural principles as one of the most foundational in the genre.

and i think it is my favorite survival horror game.

Luigi’s Mansion is an absolutely stunning game. The art design is glorious, the soundtrack is killer, and of course the atmosphere is fantastic. I still find it incredible how well the game straddles the line between horror and humor. In a way, that child won’t be turned off to play it, but an adult can enjoy the more subtle nods to the campy horror stories it was inspired by. It’s frankly impossible to not be pulled in by this game’s charm.

It’s easy to see why the mansion is still so iconic all these years later. The realistic level design makes mansion exploration a blast. With every section you open, you find yourself fascinated to see just how big the building truly is and what purpose those rooms used to serve. The ghost designs are absolutely wonderful and it’s great how every method to startle them is somehow tied back into their personality. Even if some feel repeated. The sound design is absolutely stellar as well. There’s something incredibly charming about listening to Luigi hum the main theme while walking around or hearing E. Gadd make his animal crossing noises every time, he calls you to save. Still, I think a great deal of those ideas were unfortunately hampered by the game being a launch title for the gamecube.

The controls are unfortunately incredibly stiff. It’s difficult to aim Luigi in precise directions (has flashbacks to the moon section), while using the c stick to aim Luigi’s poltergeist 3000 feels incredibly awkward. No matter how long I played the game I could never get used to aiming it. It often felt far too slow to change the direction of your flow in contrast to the fast-paced action of chasing ghosts. But that’s only the tip of the iceberg of what makes combat in this game so frustrating.

While I loved the concept of using light to startle the ghosts. I found the game to be completely unpredictable when you could successfully suck them up. Often I would point my light only for a ghost to confusingly vanish off screen. Health is also far too rare in this game. I can understand wanting to increase the challenge of a fairly basic game. But I don’t see why they couldn’t throw you back in with full health after a death, especially when checkpoints are nonexistent. It devolves into frustratingly having to knock on every object you see hoping a heart appears or having to revisit the same two rooms for a large health boost. Why not just have the toads fill up your health when you save? Considering how uncommon they are to begin with it, it would hardly ruin the challenge.

I have no issues with collectables being in a game, but the fact the game forces you to collect boos is absurd. It’s often a very tedious process with little variety in gameplay. You walk around aimlessly until that little yellow light appears and casually stand around for the boo to be sucked up. Only more irritating when they go through walls. I can’t tell you the number of times I had to hunt one down only for it to repeatedly just fly between the same two walls over and over again. Made worse by a cutscene that plays every time you encounter it. Like the developers think you’re too stupid to see it on your own.

I’m still baffled that the tutorial does so little to explain the basic concepts to you. At no point is it mentioned that objects can be picked up with your vacuum, nor the fact the c stick can let you point your vacuum up and down. I’m all for letting players experiment in a game, but it’s critical that you teach them the basics, so they have a foundation to work off of first.

There are so many great ideas that I love in this game that are just ruined by small hiccups like this.

Keys, for instance, were a great idea, it makes the game feel like a homage to early survival horror titles, giving purpose to backtracking and exploration. I love how this leads you through prior rooms in the house, leading to many of the boo locations. The result is that the collecting process feels incredibly natural. It’s great game design, but this flow can be largely disrupted by unremovable mimic doors, constantly forcing you to stop the game to open your map just to see if a door is real.

They’ll present concepts that seem entirely optional, only to fail to communicate that they are mandatory to finish the game. If I need to show Mario's clothes to a fortune teller, then don’t just casually mention it like it leads to bonus hidden lore. Make it clear to the player that this non hostile ghost is mandatory to proceed.

I don’t understand why fast travel isn’t an option here either. Luigi moves incredibly slow, and the concept of the mirrors shows that it was being considered. But in the end, every mirror just leads back to the same spot. Why not expand this idea to take you to each floor or each section you’ve opened?

Remember this when you fight the final boss. Because having no checkpoint before the fight feels downright disrespectful. Dying during the fight not only means walking all the way back from the beginning of the mansion, but rewatching every cutscene and skipping through all the text as well. Doesn’t help that the boss highlights the game's mechanics at its worst. No camera controls means having to launch objects at awkward angles. Bowser’s stiff animation shows the team’s inexperience with the new hardware. And not to mention how the boss is just an extended aspect of one of the game’s worst features. Collecting boos.

The game overall is fairly easy despite my criticisms with the gameplay, most of my frustration clearly lies with the lack of oversight and polish in the design. Despite how beautiful the game still looks and how much I love Nintendo taking a risk like this. It could’ve been something great with a little more care and thought. Even worse is that we still haven’t gotten a game that has tried to improve on this game’s shortcomings even 20 plus years later.

The Nintendo Gamecube was not a popular console in its prime. I’m not sure whether its newfound popularity is due to honestly reconsidering its tenure over a decade after it retired, a sweet haze of nostalgia from those who grew up with the system like myself, or because the laissez-faire internet market has inflated the price of both the system and the library of games to absurd enormity. Whether its colossal value can be attributed to the system’s overall quality or simply because Nintendo has relegated most of the Gamecube’s exclusives to its original physical pressing is subject to debate. Still, I’d like to think the issue sways more towards column A rather than the exploitative lunacy of the latter scenario. People love this little lunchbox that could, and I certainly always have. However, it amuses me to recall how Nintendo’s second-generation 3D console was perceived upon its release, with older people who defected to the second Playstation console and the new contender of the original Xbox calling it “gay” like Tinky Winky’s purse. As much as I passionately defended my darling purple cube, I now realize that the console having a handle on the back hilariously strikes my defense down against this derisive comparison. But in retrospect, it’s one point of innovation that cements the Gamecube’s positive legacy. As much as I admire Nintendo for this era of risk-taking, I have to admit that I wonder what the fuck they were smoking with some of their decisions. Exhibit A, right from the get-go was releasing Luigi’s Mansion as a launch title.

The Gamecube marked the first time since Nintendo entered the console market on the NES that one of their systems was not introduced with a Mario title, and all technicalities to this statement will be discarded immediately for not considering the finer bits of context here. Luigi’s Mansion is not a Mario title not only because his fink of a younger brother that everyone makes fun of finally gets his time in the spotlight, but because the mechanics involved with the taller, greener Mario stomping up and down the creaky floors of a haunted mansion deviated from anything else from a Mario console game before then. Creativity is what continuing franchises should strive for, but the reason why sending Luigi’s Mansion off as a new system’s initial ambassador was misguided is because the game is misrepresentative of the continual evolution of Nintendo’s systems. Super Mario Bros, Super Mario World, and Super Mario 64 effectively gave the purchasers of their respective consoles a clear-cut idea of what to expect from every subsequent game for the system’s five to six-year reign as Nintendo’s updated killer app. With Luigi’s Mansion, on the other hand, the concept and gameplay were too alien. Super Mario Sunshine, which ultimately pissed people off anyways, was most likely still baking in the development cycle at the time and couldn’t represent the Gamecube at launch like its older Mario brethren. Everyone at the time had to make do with Luigi and his spooky manor, a weary first impression of Nintendo’s new system in a competitive console landscape. Now that two decades have passed and the Gamecube’s library has expanded extensively, we can now assess that Luigi’s Mansion is a refreshing title that refines the survival horror genre using Mario’s accessibility.

There is one obvious parallel to another popular gaming franchise that everyone should draw connections to, considering the setting, tone, and gameplay of Luigi’s Mansion. One quick look at the eerie estate that Luigi supposedly won in a contest that he didn’t even enter (certainly sounds like something that would happen to hapless Luigi) and flashbacks of the Spencer Mansion from Resident Evil should start appearing in everyone’s minds. Fear not, weary consumers who are intimidated by horror games and or concerned parents who might believe that Luigi is leading his brother’s family-friendly brand down a spiral of chills and blood spills. While the most famous horror franchise in gaming is the primary influence for Luigi’s Mansion, the game still upholds that Mario lightheartedness that is appropriate for gamers of all walks of life. Not to say that Luigi’s Mansion is a lame, watered-down version of Resident Evil made as a safer alternative for the young and or squeamish types. The scare factor of Luigi’s Mansion verges heavily on the spooky, Halloweeny spectrum rather than graphic bloodshed and other garish grotesqueries. Its effectiveness as a horror game relies mostly on the graveyard atmosphere and the dimness of the mansion’s narrow corridors. Think Abbott and Costello meets Resident Evil in which goofy characters interact with the horrors of a haunted house, playing with the traditional horrors with a sense of levity. Only in this scenario, Abbott (Mario) is trapped somewhere in the enormous estate and Costello (Luigi) must face his fear of the dark and what might be lurking in it to save his other half.

The Resident Evil comparisons are more substantial than just noting that the main setting is a decrepit, cobwebbed-covered manor of the damned. The way in which Luigi progressively unlocks each room in this estate truly apes Capcom’s survival horror franchise. From the foyer behind the front door, Luigi will be lucky to find one entrance that isn’t locked. Progression in Luigi’s Mansion is one series of keys after another, with uncovering one pointing out the specific door in which it is to be used on the amusingly referential PDA modeled after a Gameboy Color. I guess the last generation’s handheld model looked more practical rather than the vertically-held GBA. Because every key only unlocks one door, Luigi’s Mansion is not as richly non-linear with its progression compared to Resident Evil. While I’m slightly disappointed that the game does not feature the same caliber of level design as a Resident Evil game, I can forgive it because it might have been confusing for the average Mario fan. Exterminating all of the ghosts in a room and having the lights come back on (although I highly doubt the presence of the ghosts is diluting the electric energy in an unoccupied old building) to signify completion is adequate enough. The hallways of a floor will not reilluminate until the boss of that floor is defeated, which is fine for the first two. However, the later game felt it necessary to have Luigi restore the basement and third floors simultaneously which resulted in giving Luigi’s calf muscles a workout and causing me to groan with growing tedium. It wouldn’t be too illogical to put an elevator in this place, considering that there is a source of electricity as well!

To rid the ghosts of Luigi’s new piece of property, eccentric old scientist Elmer Gadd (or E.Gadd) grants him the use of his Poltergust 3000 contraption to suck in ghosts and store them in its chamber. He’d probably do it himself, but he’s a bit frail if his introductory cutscene is any indication, so he’ll splendidly fill the role of Luigi’s mentor for the duration of the game from a comfortable distance in his laboratory shack on the mansion’s front lawn. Was it Ghostbusters that popularized the trope of dispatching ghosts with this common household apparatus? Just to clarify, Peter Venkman and his crew did not use actual vacuum cleaners to scrub up the New York streets of its paranormal ghouls. Egon’s proton pack that generated beams of energy merely resembled a vacuum cleaner in its physical design and was carried around like one. I have to make this clear because E. Gadd’s Poltergust machine is just a modified vacuum cleaner with as little restraint on the suck function as possible, practically weaponizing a cyclone. Nevertheless, it’s Luigi’s means of defense against what goes bump in the night and in this context, it's a party of multicolored ghosts. The common ghost enemies are apparently artistic products of a phantom painter residing in one of the mansion’s many expanses, which explains why they are so goofy-looking. They’ll pop out and startle Luigi with an open-mouthed expression of mischievous joy and will stop dead once Luigi shines the flashlight on their heart-shaped soul. Once exposed, that brief window of paralysis is Luigi’s scant opportunity to rev up Poltergust, but the ghosts won’t go down that easily. The game’s “combat,” for lack of a better term, is the struggle between the ghost and fitting it into its airy confinement. Every exposed heart is given a multiple of ten, and Luigi must pull back on the control stick creating friction for the ghost who is frantically flying around the room in agony. The process is less cruel than it sounds, I think. The connection between the stream of violent air and the ghost can get interrupted if the frenzy causes Luigi to collide with something, or if he bumps into a poison mushroom that they drop from above which shrinks him for a few inconvenient seconds. While the process might get repetitive after completing a couple of floors in the mansion, and the alternate elemental settings are mainly used for traversal and a few ghosts, admiring the refreshing uniqueness of this mechanic never falters.

Luigi’s Mansion does not provide puzzles via traversing through the eponymous setting, but this doesn’t mean that the player’s headspace is allowed to be as dim as the mansion’s interior. Facing the bigger ghosts with human physical phenotypes, the “bosses” of Luigi’s Mansion, involve some consideration when disposing of them, for they are wiser to hide their hearts from view than the common goons. All of the inhabitants of the house were once paintings found hung up as exhibits in the mansion’s gallery, but have been reanimated as wispy figures of their corporeal selves. I do not know whether all of these people resided in this house at the same time and perished by some ironic, Bunuelian curse of the upper class or a painting equals another death in a long line of residents, but spending their afterlives here is unwelcomed by Luigi who must restore them to their rightful place framed in the gallery. Figuring out how to make these ghouls vulnerable is usually a one-step procedure, but each ghost requires something completely different from one ghost to the next. A favorite of mine is Chauncey the Baby because the idea of a baby ghost is genuinely disturbing, and the arena-sized battleground of his crib during his encounter, while he pelts Luigi with his infantile possessions, is hauntingly surreal.

As a reminder that Luigi’s Mansion is still somewhat attached to the Mario brand, the game implements a number of collectibles beyond the various keys. Given that the setting used to be a symbol of wealth and extravagance, a smattering of currencies seeped into the crevices of every corner of the mansion, ranging from coins to some gleaning gemstones. Even the more formidable ghosts drop pearls while they’re grasping for freedom while being sucked up, so you know they were loading while living. The accumulated amount of all currency is totaled up in the lab after a major boss, but earning all of it amounts to no reward to speak of. A future trip to Vegas for Luigi? Another connective implementation to the mainline Mario series that would be remiss to be omitted in a game revolving around spookiness is the Boos, everyone’s favorite shy floating marshmallows with beastly teeth from the Mushroom Kingdom. Here, they are not mingled with the game’s original ghostly creations. Fifty of them are hidden in the walls and using the radar on the Gameboy Horror, Luigi must knock on their places of hiding to reveal themselves. Either that or Luigi can also hump the object to suss out their locations, which is probably the most unsettling sight in the game. This is why you’re not mascot material, Luigi! The Boos all have large numbers attached to them and will scurry away because the suction isn’t as tight for some reason. Switching from room to room in pursuit of these Boos just to dwindle an eighth of their resilience down was not an amusing task.

I started ignoring the blinking radar of the Gameboy Horror until I learned that catching the vast majority of the Boos was required to finish the game because of course they are. A Giant Boo boss battle on the roof knocks out twenty of them, but Luigi will still have to endure the collection process for at least twice the amount. I suppose King Boo, the main antagonist of the game who has Mario trapped in a painting under the well as his proud prized possession, only considers Luigi as a threat when he’s snatching up ghosts of his own kin. When Luigi captures at least forty Boos, it’s time to confront King Boo in his underground chamber. Unless the player pays attention to the mystic ravings of the fortune teller, Bowser will be a surprise as the game’s final boss. However, this is not the collaboration of two kings working in the interest of taking down Mario. The Bowser that stands in front of Luigi is some sort of life-sized skin model of Mario’s mortal nemesis, complete with all of Bowser’s attributes like fire spitting. I don’t know what is more subtly unnerving: King Boo popping out of Bowser’s detached head when Luigi shoots a spike ball back at him, or the middle section where Bowser blindly stomps around because his head is attached backward. All of this combined with the hellish arena that surrounds Luigi makes for a tense and challenging climax, which then results in reverting Mario back to his physical form using E. Gadd’s convoluted device to revert Mario back to his physical form with Luigi laughing at how slapstick the process is. One might gasp at Luigi’s schadenfreude but considering how many adventures that Mario has taken sole credit for, I think Luigi is allowed to relish in his newfound glory as the top dog for once. Who’s the bitch now, Mario?

Luigi’s Mansion was an exciting prospect for many reasons. Gaming’s most infamous secondary hero is finally granted a well-deserved time in the limelight of a new IP that travels over unpaved territories not only for Mario but for any of their properties. Luigi’s Mansion makes the mature survival horror genre its own by sifting its properties through the accessible Nintendo filter, twisting the mechanics and the graphic content into something digestible for Nintendo’s wider audience. Still, the game has its fair share of scares all the same. Maybe the game would’ve been appreciated at its release only if fans weren’t expecting to hop around as the red plumber we’re typically used to seeing upon purchasing a Nintendo console. But really, an odd game that disappointed fans for its unpredictability is the perfect way to commence the life of the Nintendo system that was synonymous with surprises.

I love this game. It is fun and repayable. It is very short but any longer I feel would have hindered the game. The best part of this game is the charm and perfect balance of being spooky. The game is not scary, it is not babies first scary experience, it is SPOOKY. Some of the bosses are annoying and so is getting the boos. The absolute joy of sucking up ghosts as a scared Luigi is what makes the game great. And the amount of charm is still unmatched by the other games in the series.

Charmoso e de visual impressionante pra época, Luigi’s Mansion se agarra a uma mecânica muito divertida e funcional, mas que utilizada à exaustão e com pouca variação, acaba cansando.

Junte a isso os bosses muito simples e a curta duração, e a impressão que fica é de um desenvolvimento apressado.

A atmosfera de Sessão da Tarde, porém, compensa esses problemas. Ouvir o Luigi assoviando a música tema sempre me provoca um sorriso de canto de boca.

It's still insane to me that there was someone out there that pitched a baby's first Resident Evil with Super Mario characters both in concept but also as a launch title for the Nintendo GameCube, along with the insanity of it actually being greenlighted.

But regardless, we got Luigi's Mansion. It's still a pretty decent action adventure, still way too short and leaves you going "that's it?" and wanting more. Still as fun to play through as a haggard 27 year old compared to being a spry 8 year old blissfully unaware of the bursting of the dotcom bubble.