One part gin, two parts squirrel. Garnish with nuts.
Up all night, partying to the break of dawn. No worries, eh? You’re young,
invincible, and it doesn’t matter that your blood alcohol level has sloshed
its way into double digits hours ago.
Oh, you’ll regret it all right. Come tomorrow, the only right you’ll be fighting
for is the one to see clearly and stand on two legs. Not to mention the right
not to puke all over the floor. That’s in the Constitution somewhere, right?
You’ll face a day of drudgery you won’t soon forget, a Bad Fur Day, if
A brutal hangover and the miserable day that follows makes up the story behind
Conker’s Bad Fur Day. In fact, the game revels in the fact there’s no
real discernable plot. Conker, that little party animal, is at the mercy of
the game designers, tossed from one themed world to the next, up against the
next euphemism or parody sequence.
It seems to me that the first half of the game tries to shock you as much as
it possibly can, while the second half eases into some more smartly conceived
movie parodies. The resulting whole is perhaps the last worthwhile game for
Unlike the action of the Banjo games,
everything is kept simple. There are no button combinations or new moves learned
along the way. Instead, you have your basics, from a helicopter jump to whacking
your opponents with a frying pan.
There’s also something called ‘Context Sensitive’ action. Whatever you need
comes at the moment you need it, leading to gameplay that is…err… sensitive
to context. Let’s say you’re about to get attacked by a swarm of bats. When
you stand over the enormous ‘B’ block, a lightbulb ‘dings’ above your head and
you can whip out a trusty flamethrower for some bat flambé.
Here’s another example: at the halfway point Death bestows upon Conker a sawed
off, double barreled shotgun. You can burst skulls and spill blood, but only
within the following action sequence that calls for the gun, after which the
gun is no longer a usable inventory item. See? Sensitive to context.
The result is a staccato flow between gameplay and cutscenes. In its entirety,
BFD is strictly linear, forcing you along a single path from beginning
to end. But what keeps BFD fun is the deduction required to keep you
going. What do I do next? How am I supposed to kill this boss? All will be fine
and dandy as long as you stay on the path.
Somehow I made a jump that wasn’t supposed to be made, and found a B-block
I wasn’t supposed to get to yet. After trying to jump on the B-block many times,
I realized there was an invisible wall holding me back. Damn invisible walls
– the only things they;re good for are keeping the mimes at bay. As long as
you focus on the job at hand and figure out the intended path, it’s AOK.
Due to the accidental erasure of a game save (d’oh!), I’ve ended up playing
through BFD nearly twice, and let me say, this game isn’t one for sloppy
seconds. Replaying the single player quest is like going through all the motions
without the good feelings of discovery. All you are left with is how fast you
can complete the game. Give me a longer game, or at least another ending to
back this thang up.
there’s a chapter mode that allows you to go right to your favorite sequences.
This mode is perfect for showing off the great cut scenes to all your friends.
Speaking of friends, there are a total of seven multiplayer modes to drag your
buds into. It’s a welcome bonus, but just filler material. The multiplayer games
implement the same control structures and responsiveness as the single player
mode. Frankly, it just isn’t quick enough for the many variations of deathmatches
herein. However, kudos to Rare for giving it a shot.
For a N64 game, these are some sweet graphics. BFD looks as good as
Banjo Tooie while keeping a smooth and supple framerate. There’s light
sourcing aplenty, such as the impressive rave lights to the errant weapon fires
of the evil Tediz. The soft shadows look great, but the shadows don’t always
give you a helpful guide for platform jumping. Despite all this, BFD
would have looked so much sweeter on a less aged system.
According to the credit information, Conker’s BFD employs MP3s for all
its snazzy audio. Just don’t let Lars Ulrich or Doctor Dre know. Instead of
the weak MIDIs that normally dribble out of the N64, BFD music pumps
strong with rich and full bodied instrumentation. There’s even a track that
uses poop and fart noises for music. Doesn’t that just sound yummy? Mm-mmm-mmm.
I’m gonna go grab a spoon.
Another rarely seen N64 feature is actual voice throughout the game. Even rarer
is the fact that these voices are done so well. Conker has an endearing little
lisp. Berri has that, like, y’know, valley girl talk. And there’s even a dead-on
John Malkovich-esque voice. Good stuff for a cartridge.
And is any of this funny? Yes…but in that fart joke, South Park kind
of way. You’ll find yourself up against a sunflower with an ample set of pistles,
a big cog, and a nightclub full of “stoners.” There’s a now infamous sequence
where Conker drinks himself silly, leading to the wonders and joys that only
come from peeing on strangers.
Let me make a point to say that the physics and design of the pee stream are
second to none. The pee stream technology employed is truly revolutionary, from
the arc and curvature to the staining and the dripping. But, I digress.
Conker’s Bad Fur Day is the kid’s game that browsed the adult section
and then loaded itself on Daddy’s private stash. BFD has its crosshairs
directly aimed at the college audience, and it works perfectly for the peeps
who’ve grown up with Mario and are now
looking for someone less dorky. That is, in between frat parties and other immoral
Looking past the hype surrounding the first truly ‘adult’ Nintendo game, BFD
makes you chuckle and drives you to keep playing. I would have liked some deeper
action or at least a longer experience, but this is still certainly worth the
investment. Now where did I put that Bloody Mary mix?