Pulseman

They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. If this is true, then Capcom’s Mega Man should be humbled by Pulseman. While Konami’s flagship franchises paved their way into gaming royalty on Nintendo’s consoles, their third-party status meant they weren’t contractually obligated to commit 100% of their properties to the SNES. Konami dabbled in playing for both sides in the 16-bit console wars, releasing exemplary exclusive titles of their franchises on the Genesis such as Castlevania: Bloodlines and Contra: Hard Corps. Capcom, on the other hand, did not do the same for Mega Man, for the extensive number of titles on the NES and the neo-spinoff Mega Man X on the SNES signified that Nintendo had Mega Man wrapped around their finger. Sega felt deprived of a Mega Man exclusive, so they enlisted future Pokemon developer Game Freak to craft something supplementary enough so Genesis owners wouldn’t be tempted by the allure of Mega Man on the SNES and switch systems. Unfortunately, Pulseman never made it overseas, or at least not in physical form. During the Genesis era, Sega showcased something called the “Sega Channel” which featured Pulseman for a limited time on a streaming service like a primitive Netflix. After its western availability over a decade after its release, Pulseman hasn’t been graced with a second wind of praise, and it’s not hard to see why not.

Let us first examine the Kirkland-brand Mega Man that Sega have created for their console. Pulseman already sounds like a scrapped Mega Man robot boss, so Sega clearly did their homework in the naming department. Pulseman is however not a robot built by a jolly old scientist to protect their futuristic society from evil. Pulseman is a half-breed cyborg; the love child of a man and his procedurally-generated AI, which is as Japanese as an origin story comes by. However, Pulseman’s human half is irrelevant to his gameplay. Pulseman cannot acquire the attributes of his enemies, for he specializes in the power of electricity. Pulseman’s base attack is an electric smack that must be performed in close range, but he can also compensate for his lack of range by creating static by moving. Once Pulseman gains enough momentum, a volt of static will encompass his entire body with a charged sound accompanying it. If the player presses the attack button, Pulseman will turn the static into a short-ranged projectile attack. By pressing another button on the controller, Pulseman will use this additional energy to create a volt ball. With this move, Pulseman will precariously rocket across the map, ricocheting off of every surface in his path. He can also use this move to be carried along with the current of various wires used to traverse through various levels. For not having a diverse arsenal that grows with progress like Mega Man, Pulseman’s moveset still manages to be dynamic and inventive while being practical for both traversal and dealing with enemies.

The Mega Man comparisons are even more warranted regarding the levels. Capcom’s franchise pioneered the concept of a seamless level select, and people are bound to draw comparisons between any game that also features this. In a game like Pulseman where the Mega Man influences are tremendously apparent, it’s almost an obligation to feature this sort of level selection. Naturally, Pulseman does incorporate this, but there are a few key differences. For one, the levels are not themed around the end bosses, but a diverse range of real world locations. Japan is depicted as a sterile metropolis, India as a jungle, and the USA is specifically located in Nevada around Las Vegas. Sega sure does love casino levels, don’t they? Three more levels are unlocked after completing those three in whichever order, an unconventional form of progression compared to Mega Man whose levels are all available from the start. Perhaps the developers thought unlocking the other half of the game at a certain point was a more satisfying progression point, but the unlocked levels aren’t any more difficult than the former three. Regardless, Thailand, Alaska, and Australia each have their level theme like the previous levels. Unique level theming is something I’m a sucker for, but the standout aspect of each level is art direction. I’ve stated that each level is a 16-bit depiction of a real-world location, but I neglected to specify that the levels are a liberal rendition of these locations. Game Freak’s artistic efforts have formulated a consistent meld of what can only be described as Tron on an ayahuasca trip, contrasting the primal and the futuristic. The dazzling visuals are undoubtedly striking, but the harsh, seizure-inducing lights indicate a wilder era of gaming that didn’t give a rat’s ass about the sensitivities of others.

As I played Pulseman, the Mega Man comparisons slightly dwindled, and the game started to remind me more of Sonic the Hedgehog. Sega might see this sentence and beam with pride at the notion that their Mega Man clone is up to par with their spiky, blue pride and joy, but I mean it as anything but a compliment. Sonic’s core complication is that his speed is impractical for a 2D platformer, even if the roundabout level design in his games somewhat suits his swift nature to some extent. Pulseman reveals itself not to be a carbon-copy of Mega Man but a hybrid of Mega Man and Sonic. It’s a hybrid as unholy as Pulseman himself because it doesn’t work. Because of Sonic’s speed, enemies are placed sparingly, and at least the plentiful amount of rings acts as a fair system for receiving damage. On the other hand, Mega Man is a more action-intensive 2D platformer that provides a steady health bar for dealing with multiple enemies. Pulseman attempts to integrate those elements, but it fails in execution. Pulseman has acceleration issues like Sonic, in which moving too quickly will cause his premature demise. Pulseman can afford to be more patient than Sonic, but this will often happen due to Pulseman’s need to generate static through movement. Enemies are sparse in Pulseman to avoid constant collisions, but the levels are designed more with Mega Man in mind. This design philosophy makes each level feel rather uninvolved as both action and platforming are relatively minimal. I can be thankful for some degree because the developers decided it would be imperative to grant Pulseman with only three measly health points. Pulseman also adopts Sonic’s vexing “trial and error” difficulty, so the player is expected to memorize the level layout and die countless times in the process. It’s incredibly unfair in Sonic, and the parameters presented in Pulseman make it even more egregious.

Once the player manages to endure the repetitive trials in Pulseman, each level comes with a boss to conquer. No, they are not fellow cyborgs represented by a gimmick with the title “man” in their names. However, technology and its corrupting influence are consistent with Pulseman’s formidable foes. Pulseman’s main antagonist is the boy’s father, a man who has been corrupted by the virtual world that has turned him into a futuristic evil scientist hellbent on world domination. His motives and appearance scream Dr. Wily, but his boss encounters highlight plenty of influence from Sega’s own Dr. Robotnik. Besides the big, maniacal cheese running the operation, Pulseman’s other bosses were the clear standout among the game’s other aspects. Whether fighting against the titanium sphere or the giant, unrendered arm, Pulseman’s bosses are as uniquely designed as their respective levels and require clever tactics to defeat. A personal highlight is the boss of the Alaska stage, another cyborg with darker armor that mirrors Pulseman in every way. The barrage of the ball move during his fight is like a sporadic, high-voltage (no pun intended) duel similar to Dark Link in the Zelda games.

The sad thing about Pulseman is that it isn’t almost good: the game is almost great. One would expect a game that unabashedly apes the foundation of one of old-school gaming’s most popular franchises to be shallow and derivative. Still, there are plenty of distinctive elements to Pulseman that greatly discern it from its obvious inspiration. Pulseman’s electrifying moves make him a wholly different force of nature from Capcom’s blue, arm-cannoned wonder, and Mega Man’s stages have never been as visually staggering. Sega, however, couldn’t help but implement Sonic as an intrusive influence that dilutes and complicates the gameplay to a fundamentally broken degree. I’m starting to think that Sonic’s gameplay foibles aren’t unique to him but are simply Sega’s signature, flawed philosophy for every other 2D platformer they’ve created. The catch-22, however, is that all the conspicuous elements from the blue blur are what make Pulseman discernable from the blue bomber. Pulseman is a game that ends up being as unnatural a hybrid as the game’s protagonist. A sequel would’ve most likely refined the formula significantly, but it’s far too late for Sega to export any effort into a game they evidently never had much faith in at the start.