Retro Reflections: Conker’s Bad Fur Day

How Did Rare Get Away With This?

Revisiting the Games That Shaped a Lifetime of Gaming

There was one thought that kept coming back to me throughout my return to Conker’s Bad Fur Day.

How did Rare get away with putting this on a Nintendo console?

Nintendo had built a reputation around games that could be enjoyed by almost anyone. Yet here was a Nintendo 64 game involving alcohol, swearing, violence, toilet humour and more than a few moments that made me wonder how some of it ever made it onto the cartridge.

And somehow, underneath all of that, there was still a very good game.

From Diddy Kong Racing to a Very Bad Day

Perhaps the strangest part is remembering where Conker started.

His first released appearance was in Diddy Kong Racing in 1997. There he was just another colourful Rare character racing around Timber’s Island alongside Diddy, Banjo, Krunch and the rest of the cast.

Nothing about that version of Conker suggested what was coming.

And Diddy Kong Racing wasn’t the only appearance of the more innocent Conker.

In 1999, he received his own adventure with Conker’s Pocket Tales for the Game Boy Color. Once again, this was the sort of colourful, family-friendly adventure you’d expect from a Rare character at the time. Conker was trying to recover his stolen birthday presents and rescue Berri after they were kidnapped by the Evil Acorn.

Then, two years later, Conker’s Bad Fur Day happened.

The tonal shift is enormous.

The cheerful squirrel from Diddy Kong Racing and Conker’s Pocket Tales was suddenly a heavy-drinking, foul-mouthed protagonist who begins his adventure hungover after a night in the pub and simply wants to find his way home.

Knowing what Conker had been before makes Bad Fur Day even more bizarre. Rare didn’t create a new adult character for this kind of game. They took an existing character who had already appeared in two family-friendly Nintendo games and completely reinvented him.

Things don’t exactly improve for Conker from there.

Rare Didn’t Hold Back

One thing I noticed throughout this playthrough was that whenever Bad Fur Day has an idea, it commits to it completely.

The game doesn’t seem particularly concerned about whether something is sensible.

Sometimes that works brilliantly. Sometimes I found myself wondering what I had just witnessed.

But it means the adventure is constantly changing. One moment Conker is platforming, the next he’s racing, dealing with dinosaurs, fighting the undead, carrying a shotgun, driving a tank or taking part in a war against the Tediz.

The game also wears its film influences proudly. The Tediz section suddenly turns Conker’s adventure into a war movie, while the final stretch throws in an unmistakable Matrix-style heist before eventually heading firmly into Alien territory.

It shouldn’t really fit together.

Somehow, in Bad Fur Day, it does.

There were certainly moments where the controls reminded me that I was playing a game from the Nintendo 64 era, particularly when the game started demanding more precise movement or shooting. At times, controlling Conker could feel like another obstacle that needed to be survived.

But there was always something new waiting around the corner.

Gregg the Grim Reaper

Gregg might be one of my favourite examples of the game’s humour.

When you hear that you’re about to meet the Grim Reaper, you probably have a fairly good idea of what to expect.

Gregg is almost the complete opposite.

He’s tiny, has a voice you wouldn’t normally associate with the personification of death, and behaves less like a terrifying supernatural entity and more like an irritated employee who has been stuck doing the same job for far too long.

He also hates cats.

Not because there’s anything particularly sinister about them, but because having nine lives creates more work for him.

Later in the adventure, Gregg returns and hands Conker a shotgun so he can deal with the undead.

At that point, it barely seemed unusual anymore.

The Great Mighty Poo

Of course, there is one character that can’t really be avoided when talking about Conker’s Bad Fur Day.

The Great Mighty Poo.

By the time I reached him, I thought I’d developed a reasonable understanding of the sort of things this game was willing to throw at me.

Then I had to fight an opera-singing pile of poo.

There’s something almost admirable about how completely Rare commits to the idea. This isn’t a quick joke before the game moves on. The Great Mighty Poo gets an entire boss battle built around his performance while Conker fights back using toilet rolls.

It’s juvenile. It’s ridiculous. And it’s also one of the most memorable encounters in the entire game.

More than twenty-five years after Bad Fur Day was released, the fact that an opera-singing pile of poo remains one of its most recognisable moments probably tells you everything you need to know about this game.

Then Things Get Dark

For all the toilet humour, film references and general insanity, Bad Fur Day becomes surprisingly dark as the adventure progresses.

The war against the Tediz is probably where that becomes most obvious. Conker goes from dealing with increasingly ridiculous situations to being dropped into something that feels like Rare’s version of a war film.

There are Tediz, flamethrowers, lasers, machine guns and eventually a tank.

By the final stretch, the game changes again.

A Matrix-style heist eventually brings Conker face to face with the Panther King, only for Heinrich to make sure that encounter doesn’t go quite according to plan.

That leaves Conker with one final battle.

And after everything the game had thrown at me, fighting an alien felt like an entirely appropriate way for it to end.

Being King Wasn’t Quite the Happy Ending

The ending might be one of the most surprising things about Bad Fur Day.

Conker wins.

He becomes king.

On paper, that’s the sort of ending you’d expect from a platforming adventure.

Except Conker isn’t particularly happy about it.

Berri is gone, and when Conker is given the opportunity to change what happened, he realises too late that he forgot to ask for her back.

After spending the entire game trying to get home, he ends up sitting on a throne surrounded by characters from his adventure, reflecting on what he’s lost.

It’s an unexpectedly bleak conclusion for a game that contains an opera-singing pile of poo.

The Other Bad Day That Never Happened

While looking through walkthroughs during this playthrough to jog my memory about what was coming next, I discovered something I hadn’t realised before.

There was supposed to be another bad day.

Rare had plans for a proper sequel, commonly known as Conker’s Other Bad Day, which would have continued Conker’s story after the ending of the original.

It never happened.

Instead, Bad Fur Day eventually returned through Conker: Live & Reloaded, but the planned continuation of Conker’s story was left behind.

Knowing that makes the ending of Bad Fur Day slightly more interesting to me. Conker’s story ends in a deliberately uncomfortable place, and there was once an intention to show what happened afterwards.

We’re still waiting.

The Journey

This return to Conker’s Bad Fur Day was recorded as a complete no-commentary playthrough. If you’d like to experience Conker’s increasingly unfortunate adventure from beginning to end, you can watch the full playlist on YouTube.

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▶ Watch the complete Conker’s Bad Fur Day playthrough on YouTube

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One Bad Fur Day Later

When the credits finally rolled, there weren’t any tears of joy this time.

I was just pleased I’d finished it.

And I don’t mean that negatively.

Conker’s Bad Fur Day had taken me through one of the strangest adventures I’ve revisited so far. I’d fought cavemen, dinosaurs, zombies, Tediz and an opera-singing pile of poo. I’d driven a tank, survived a war, taken part in a Matrix-style heist and eventually fought an alien.

Some parts have aged better than others. The controls occasionally tested my patience, and there were definitely moments where I was fighting the game almost as much as whatever happened to be standing in front of Conker.

But I can understand why Bad Fur Day developed the reputation it has.

There really isn’t much else like it.

Rare took the innocent little squirrel who had appeared in Diddy Kong Racing and Conker’s Pocket Tales, gave him the worst hangover imaginable, and sent him through an adventure that somehow became progressively more ridiculous and darker at the same time.

More than twenty-five years later, I’m still not entirely sure how they got away with putting it on a Nintendo console.

I’m glad they did.

29th Sep 2026 0

Retro Reflections: Banjo-Kazooie

Nearly Thirty Years Later, the Rare Magic Is Still There

Revisiting the Games That Shaped a Lifetime of Gaming

Gruntilda had been defeated.

Every Jiggy had been collected. Every musical note had been found. Every Jinjo had been rescued. The final Honeycomb Pieces were mine.

There was nothing left to collect.

After working my way through Grunty’s Furnace Fun and climbing to the top of the lair for one final battle, Banjo and Kazooie’s adventure was over.

Nearly thirty years after the game was first released, I had completed Banjo-Kazooie again.

And somehow, the magic was still there.

Following Super Mario 64

In 1998, Banjo-Kazooie was released to the world, two years after Super Mario 64 had helped establish what a 3D platformer could be.

Rare have never been shy about the fact that Banjo-Kazooie took inspiration from Mario’s first 3D adventure, and playing the two games makes some of those influences fairly easy to see.

Both send you into self-contained worlds filled with objectives. Both gradually open up a larger hub as you progress. Both are built around exploring 3D spaces in a way that was still relatively new at the time.

But Banjo-Kazooie never felt like it was simply trying to copy Super Mario 64.

Rare took that foundation and built something with an identity of its own.

Nearly thirty years later, the obvious question is whether Banjo-Kazooie still holds up in the same way.

For me, the answer is yes.

That Rare Magic

There was something about Rare during that period that gave their games a character all of their own.

It is difficult to properly define what that Rare magic actually was.

The characters were part of it. The music was part of it. The humour certainly helped. Even the way their worlds were designed had a particular feeling that was difficult to find anywhere else.

You just knew when you were playing a Rare game.

Banjo-Kazooie has that feeling running through almost everything it does.

Even Yooka-Laylee, developed many years later by a team that included former Rare developers, carries some of that same DNA. It isn’t a Rare game, but there are moments where that familiar feeling manages to break through.

Going back to Banjo-Kazooie reminded me just how strong that identity originally was.

Every World Had a Personality

One of the things that still impresses me is how different each world feels.

Mumbo’s Mountain doesn’t feel like Treasure Trove Cove.

Bubblegloop Swamp doesn’t feel like Freezeezy Peak.

Mad Monster Mansion couldn’t be further removed from Rusty Bucket Bay.

They might all follow the same basic idea of exploring, finding Jiggies and collecting musical notes, but Rare gave every location its own personality.

The music changes.

The enemies change.

The characters change.

Even the way you interact with the world changes depending on where you are.

Freezeezy Peak has you climbing an enormous snowman and helping a family of polar bears. Mad Monster Mansion turns Banjo into a pumpkin and sends him squeezing through places he normally couldn’t reach. Rusty Bucket Bay replaces bright open landscapes with polluted water, machinery and the inside of a cargo ship.

Then there is Click Clock Wood.

Rather than simply creating one final large world, Rare built the same location around four different seasons.

Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter all use the same basic landscape, but what you do during one season can affect what happens later.

Something planted in Spring grows by Summer.

Characters change as time passes.

Paths open and disappear.

By Winter, you are still standing in Click Clock Wood, but the world feels completely different from the place you first entered.

It remains one of my favourite ideas in the entire game.

The Little Details

Then there are the things that don’t really matter at all.

Those might be some of my favourite parts.

One example is the Blue Jinjo.

Something I have always noticed is that whenever a world gives Rare the opportunity, the Blue Jinjo has a habit of appearing in or around water.

It became one of those little patterns I found myself looking for whenever I entered another world.

Freezeezy Peak and Click Clock Wood don’t really follow it, but by then the association had already been made.

Blue Jinjo.

Find the water.

It doesn’t affect the game.

There is no reward for noticing it.

Rare didn’t need to do it.

But those are exactly the kinds of details that make the worlds feel like somebody was having fun putting them together.

A Collectathon That Still Works

At its heart, Banjo-Kazooie is absolutely a collectathon.

There are Jiggies.

There are musical notes.

There are Jinjos.

There are Honeycomb Pieces.

There are Mumbo Tokens.

There is always something else waiting around the next corner.

What surprised me was how rarely that collecting felt like I was simply clearing items from a checklist.

Most Jiggies have something attached to them.

A character needs help.

A puzzle needs solving.

A new ability opens somewhere that couldn’t previously be reached.

Mumbo turns Banjo into something increasingly questionable and suddenly the world can be explored from a completely different perspective.

There were still moments where the collecting fought back.

Apparently my greatest enemy throughout this expedition wasn’t Gruntilda.

It was groups of five musical notes.

Bubblegloop Swamp left me wandering around trying to work out where the final five had gone.

Then Rusty Bucket Bay decided to do exactly the same thing.

There is something uniquely frustrating about knowing you have collected ninety-five notes and that the remaining five are sitting somewhere in a world you have already searched.

Still, I found them.

Eventually.

Always Looking Ahead

Something else I appreciated more during this playthrough was how often Rare seemed to be looking towards whatever came next.

Gobi provides one of the more memorable examples.

After spending the game having his water taken from him, he finally reaches his limit in Click Clock Wood and runs off, declaring that he is heading for the lava world.

He seems fairly confident Banjo and Kazooie won’t follow him there.

Anyone familiar with Banjo-Tooie knows how well that worked out for him.

Whether Rare always intended that line to lead directly into the sequel or simply returned to the idea later, it now feels like a small thread connecting the two games.

Mumbo gets in on it as well.

Although it didn’t happen during my playthrough, his magic can occasionally go wrong and transform Banjo into a washing machine.

He also talks about being able to turn Banjo into a T-Rex, before deciding that transformation is too powerful and should be saved for the next game.

Both ideas would eventually return in Banjo-Tooie.

Even after Gruntilda has been defeated, Rare isn’t quite finished teasing the future.

Banjo, Kazooie and Mumbo are already talking about the next adventure.

The game gives you an ending.

It just never really says goodbye.

Grunty’s Final Examination

Before reaching that ending, there is one last obstacle waiting inside Gruntilda’s Lair.

Grunty’s Furnace Fun.

I had forgotten how much I liked the idea behind it.

Instead of immediately throwing you into another difficult platforming section, the game effectively gives you an exam.

Questions test your knowledge of the worlds you’ve explored, the characters you’ve met and the sounds you’ve heard throughout the adventure.

Even Brentilda’s strange pieces of information about her sister suddenly become useful.

After spending the entire game travelling through Gruntilda’s Lair, Furnace Fun asks whether you were actually paying attention.

Then, once that is finished, the game tests something else.

Your ability to play it.

The Final Battle

By the time Banjo and Kazooie finally reach Gruntilda, there are no more moves left to learn.

You already have everything you need.

The final battle expects you to prove that you know how to use it.

Eggs become important.

Golden Feathers become important.

Flight returns.

The Beak Bomb returns.

Eventually even the Jinjos you’ve spent the game rescuing become part of the fight.

I like that structure.

Grunty’s Furnace Fun tests your knowledge of the adventure.

Gruntilda tests the skills that should have been honed throughout it.

One tests what you remember.

The other tests what you’ve learned.

It makes the final stretch feel like an examination of the entire game rather than simply another boss waiting at the end.

Then Gruntilda falls.

And suddenly there is nothing left.

The Journey

This journey through Banjo-Kazooie was recorded as a complete no-commentary playthrough, following Banjo and Kazooie from Spiral Mountain through every world of Gruntilda’s Lair and eventually into the final battle itself.

Every Jiggy was collected.

Every musical note was found.

Every Jinjo was rescued.

Every Honeycomb Piece was collected.

If you’d like to follow the expedition from the beginning, you can watch the complete Banjo-Kazooie expedition on YouTube.

New expeditions begin on the Survivor Incognito Facebook page, where videos are released first before joining the weekly YouTube archive.

Still Magical After All These Years

So, nearly thirty years after its original release, does Banjo-Kazooie still hold up?

For me, absolutely.

That doesn’t mean everything has aged perfectly.

The camera can occasionally decide that cooperation is optional.

Some of the platforming shows its age.

Searching an entire world because five musical notes remain unaccounted for isn’t an experience I’m desperate to repeat regularly.

But none of those things came close to taking away from what Rare created.

Every world still has its own personality.

Grant Kirkhope’s music gives those worlds even more character.

Banjo and Kazooie remain a brilliant pairing.

The humour still works.

The transformations are still memorable.

And the constant little details make Gruntilda’s Lair feel like a place somebody actually enjoyed creating.

Super Mario 64 helped establish what the 3D platformer could become.

Banjo-Kazooie took that foundation and did something unmistakably Rare with it.

By the time I entered Winter in Click Clock Wood, I knew the journey was coming to an end.

Then the final Jiggy was collected.

The final musical note was found.

The last Jinjo was rescued.

The final Honeycomb Piece was mine.

Grunty’s Furnace Fun was completed.

Gruntilda was defeated.

The expedition was over.

It didn’t hit me in quite the same way as finally defeating Wizpig during my Diddy Kong Racing journey.

But the tears were still there.

Maybe that says more than anything else could.

Nearly thirty years after Banjo and Kazooie first left Spiral Mountain, Rare’s strange little bear and bird adventure can still make me feel something.

That magic hasn’t disappeared.

It was waiting in Gruntilda’s Lair the entire time.

14th Sep 2026 0

Survivor’s Log: If We Don’t Own Our Games, What Exactly Are We Buying?

There are plenty of reasons I buy games digitally.

My Steam Deck alone should probably make it obvious that I am not standing on a hill waving a physical game case around and demanding that everyone return to 1998. The same goes for my Switch. I own a mixture of physical and digital games for it, and if anything, the digital side probably outweighs the physical.

Digital distribution is convenient. My library travels with me, I can install something without hunting for a disc, and sales have allowed me to pick up games I probably would never have bought otherwise.

Digital games are not the problem.

The problem begins when digital becomes the only option while the amount of control we have over the things we pay for continues to shrink.

Sony has now announced that physical disc production for new games releasing on PlayStation consoles will end in January 2028. Games already released on disc, or released before that cutoff, are unaffected. After that point, new PlayStation releases will be digital-only. Sony says the change reflects the broader shift in consumer preference towards digital media. PlayStation’s announcement can be read here.

I can understand the business logic.

That does not mean I have to like where it leads.

A Very Different PlayStation

There is something particularly strange about this coming from Sony.

Back in 2013, Microsoft managed to turn the Xbox One reveal into a lesson in how quickly you can annoy your own customers. Its original plans surrounding used games, online authentication and sharing created enough backlash that Sony had an extremely easy target.

PlayStation responded with one of the simplest demonstrations in gaming history.

How do you share a PlayStation 4 game?

You hand somebody the disc.

Sony’s own PS4 FAQ was equally clear. A PS4 disc could be traded in, sold to another person, lent to a friend or kept. Sony also said disc-based used games would not require activation steps or additional usage fees. The original PlayStation 4 FAQ is still available here.

It was an effective message because everyone understood it immediately.

You had the game.

You could hand it to somebody else.

Thirteen years later, PlayStation is heading towards a future where that option disappears for new releases.

The irony is difficult to ignore.

Apparently We Never Owned Them Anyway

The timing becomes even more awkward when combined with Sony’s current position on digital purchases.

PlayStation users have recently been reminded that digital software is licensed rather than sold. At almost the same time, Sony has been defending that distinction in court.

A proposed class action in California argues that the PlayStation Store’s use of terms such as “buy” and “purchase” does not make it sufficiently clear that customers receive a licence rather than ownership of the digital game. Sony has responded that its terms already make the distinction clear and that it is not plausible for reasonable customers to believe they are obtaining ownership of a digital game in the same way they would own a physical copy. Tom’s Hardware has a useful breakdown of the filing here.

Legally, the idea that software is licensed rather than sold is nothing new.

What bothers me is what happens when you combine the two positions.

Physical games are being phased out.

Digital games are licences.

And customers are apparently expected to accept that the thing replacing physical ownership gives them less control over what they paid for.

That leaves me with a fairly simple question.

If physical ownership is disappearing, why shouldn’t digital customers be given more control rather than less?

Steam Isn’t Quite the Answer Either

This is also where I have to be fair to Sony.

Steam isn’t some perfect digital ownership paradise.

Valve’s own Steam Subscriber Agreement says that Steam content and services are licensed, not sold, and that the licence does not give the user title or ownership of that content. Some games may also require the Steam client or an internet connection depending on the title and its licence terms. Valve’s Steam Subscriber Agreement is available here.

So I can’t point at Steam and say, “There. Valve solved digital ownership.”

They haven’t.

What Steam has done extremely well is make digital distribution convenient enough that most of the time I don’t particularly think about that distinction.

I buy a game. It sits in my library. I install it on my Steam Deck. I play it.

For everyday use, that works.

But convenience and ownership are still two different things.

And that’s where GOG becomes much more interesting.

GOG Shows That Digital Doesn’t Have To Mean Less Control

GOG is also a digital storefront.

There are no boxes being delivered to my house when I buy something there.

The difference is what I can do afterwards.

GOG requires games released on its platform to be DRM-free. Its Galaxy client is optional, and GOG provides offline installers that can be downloaded independently of the client. Its own developer documentation says games should remain playable regardless of Galaxy authentication, whether Galaxy is installed, or whether an internet connection is available. GOG explains its DRM-free requirements here, and its offline installer system here.

I can download an installer.

I can put it on an external drive.

I can make another backup.

If I want, I can store that copy somewhere completely separate from GOG.

That doesn’t magically erase copyright law or mean I suddenly own the intellectual property.

Obviously I don’t.

What it does mean is that my ability to reinstall that game does not have to depend entirely on whether the storefront still exists ten or twenty years from now.

That is a meaningful difference.

Microsoft Is Already Trying Another Approach

Microsoft has now added another interesting possibility to the conversation.

In August 2026, Xbox announced a new disc-to-digital feature for supported Xbox One and Xbox Series X games. Xbox Insiders began testing it on 31 August.

The system allows a player to insert a supported physical game into a compatible Xbox console and claim a digital entitlement. Microsoft says most Xbox One and Xbox Series X disc-based games support the feature, with eligibility depending on technical and licensing factors. Xbox’s announcement is available here.

That entitlement can then provide some of the advantages normally associated with owning a digital version, including access through Xbox Play Anywhere or Xbox Cloud Gaming where those features are supported.

There is, however, an important limitation.

This is not Microsoft permanently converting a physical game into an independent digital copy.

Microsoft’s own usage rules describe it as a limited-access digital licence. The entitlement remains conditional on continued possession of the qualifying disc. Microsoft can require the disc to be revalidated, and if the player no longer possesses it, access to the associated digital licence can be suspended or revoked. The digital licence also cannot be transferred separately from the physical disc. Microsoft’s Digital Goods Usage Rules explain those conditions here.

That distinction matters.

This is not the same solution GOG offers, and it does not solve every preservation problem.

But the underlying idea is still interesting.

You bought this physical game. We can recognise that purchase digitally too.

Rather than treating physical and digital libraries as completely separate worlds, Microsoft is at least building a bridge between them.

Steam shows how convenient a digital ecosystem can become.

GOG shows that digital distribution can coexist with DRM-free offline copies.

Microsoft is now showing that a physical purchase can be recognised inside a digital ecosystem too.

None of those systems is perfect.

But taken together, they make it much harder to argue that less consumer control is simply an unavoidable consequence of going digital.

Preservation Isn’t Just About Old Games

This is where the discussion stops being purely about which shop has the nicer refund policy.

Games disappear.

Servers close.

Licences expire.

Stores shut down.

Hardware eventually fails.

Sometimes a game becomes difficult or impossible to obtain legally despite thousands or millions of copies once being sold.

Physical media was never indestructible, but a functioning disc and compatible hardware gave you something important: a copy that did not need permission from a remote storefront every time you wanted to revisit it.

DRM-free digital files can provide something similar.

They can be copied.

They can be archived.

They can survive the storefront that originally sold them.

That matters to me because I’ve recently found myself returning to older games, and it’s a reminder of how important it is that those games remain accessible years after their original release.

I’ve spent plenty of time revisiting games from systems that disappeared from shop shelves decades ago. The idea that today’s games could become tomorrow’s preservation problem because customers were never allowed to retain useful copies of what they bought seems completely avoidable.

The technology is not the obstacle.

The policy is.

I’m Not Asking For The Disc To Survive Forever

Physical media probably was always going to decline.

Downloads are convenient. Publishers don’t have to manufacture discs, ship them around the world and hope retailers sell them.

I understand why the industry is moving this way.

And given how many digital games I own, it would be slightly ridiculous for me to pretend I’m opposed to it.

I’m not.

What I don’t accept is the idea that moving to digital inherently means customers must surrender control.

If you’re going to remove the physical copy, give me something meaningful in its place.

Maybe that’s a DRM-free installer like GOG.

Maybe it’s a system that recognises an existing physical purchase and gives it useful digital benefits, like Microsoft is now testing.

Maybe somebody comes up with an even better solution.

I don’t particularly care which approach ultimately wins.

What I care about is that the answer isn’t simply:

Physical media is disappearing, and you’ll have less control over what replaces it.

Give me offline installers.

Let me create backups.

Let me keep those backups without requiring authentication from a service that might not exist thirty years from now.

You can still have cloud saves.

You can still have automatic updates.

You can still have achievements, multiplayer services, storefronts and all the other conveniences modern platforms provide.

Digital distribution does not require digital dependence.

What Exactly Am I Paying For?

Maybe that’s the part of this whole situation I find most uncomfortable.

Publishers are increasingly comfortable using the language of purchasing when they want my money, then the language of licensing when questions of ownership arise.

The button says Buy.

The receipt looks like a purchase.

The money certainly leaves my bank account like a purchase.

But apparently expecting lasting control over the thing on the other side of that transaction is where things become unreasonable.

I’m not convinced.

Sony once demonstrated the benefits of physical ownership by handing a PlayStation game from one person to another.

It was funny because there was nothing complicated about it.

You bought something.

You possessed it.

You decided what happened to your copy next.

If that future really is disappearing, then I don’t think the answer should be to shrug and accept that we now control less.

Digital can be better than that.

We already know it can.

The industry just has to decide whether giving customers that control is something it actually wants to do.

For me, that’s the distinction.

Digital distribution is fine.

Digital convenience is great.

But if physical games are going away, I want the replacement to give players more control over the games they’ve paid for, not less.

Because one day the servers will go quiet.

And when they do, I’d quite like the games to survive them.

2nd Sep 2026 3

Retro Reflections: Diddy Kong Racing Adventure 1

When the Familiar Journey Became a Different Challenge

Revisiting the Games That Shaped a Lifetime of Gaming

I did not expect to write another Retro Reflection about Diddy Kong Racing quite so soon.

At the time of writing this, only a few weeks have passed since I finished my reflection on the Diddy Kong Racing Randomizer. That journey saw me take Krunch, widely considered the worst racer in the game, through a completely unpredictable version of one of my favourite childhood adventures.

Wizpig had been defeated twice. The randomizer was complete. I had proven everything I had set out to prove.

At least, that was what I told myself.

After the challenge ended, I found myself watching the races against Wizpig again and again. I could not say how many times I replayed them. There was something satisfying about watching Krunch cross those finish lines after everything it had taken to reach them.

Yet while I watched, another thought began settling into the back of my mind.

No matter what else I played or worked on, it stayed there.

What if I completed the original Diddy Kong Racing as Krunch?

No randomised tracks. No relocated bosses. No unexpected vehicles or rearranged progression.

Just Krunch, the original adventure and one clear objective: complete everything Diddy Kong Racing had to offer using him.

That meant completing Adventure 1 and Adventure 2. It meant unlocking Drumstick and eventually unlocking T.T. It meant beating every race, every Silver Coin Challenge, every boss and every Trophy Race with the same Kremling behind the wheel.

It was not a small commitment.

Naturally, I started almost immediately.

The First Leg of the Journey

Adventure 1 is now complete.

The first leg of this journey is over, and I can still hardly believe I have done it.

Before sitting down to write this, I was editing the final race against Wizpig. I watched the footage back to make sure the recording flowed properly and that the ending felt right.

As Krunch approached the penultimate corner, I remembered exactly what I had been thinking while I was playing.

That was the moment the realisation hit me.

I had just beaten Adventure 1 as Krunch.

The finish line was still ahead, but the outcome already felt settled. After every race, boss and Silver Coin Challenge that had led to that moment, I knew I was about to complete the first adventure with the character so many players dismissed as the worst in the game.

It was not the finish line itself that stayed with me.

It was the moment just before it, when my mind finally caught up with what I had done.

Still Learning Krunch

It would be fair to argue that I entered this playthrough with an advantage.

I had only recently completed the randomizer, so the feel of Krunch’s handling was still fresh. I knew how slowly he rebuilt his speed after a mistake. I understood how much planning his turns required, and I had already learned that trying to force him around a course like one of the lighter racers usually ended badly.

That familiarity helped.

It did not make the journey easy.

Krunch still had the same weaknesses. His acceleration remained poor, his handling remained heavy and tight corners continued to punish even small errors.

His greatest enemy, however, appeared to be anything resembling an upward incline.

The races against Tricky proved that repeatedly.

Krunch has enough speed to compete once he gets moving, but climbing slows him down and exposes how difficult it can be for him to regain momentum. Against a boss already charging towards the summit, losing even a small amount of speed could turn an otherwise strong attempt into another restart.

Tricky was not impossible, but he made sure each victory felt earned.

When Familiar Races Felt Wrong

Bluey created a different kind of frustration.

I remember racing Bluey repeatedly when I first owned Diddy Kong Racing on the Nintendo 64. His second race became something I could complete without giving it much thought. It was one of those challenges that had once felt difficult but eventually became routine.

Returning to it as Krunch changed that.

This time, I had to work for the victory.

That felt wrong at first.

My memory insisted Bluey should have been easy. The game in front of me disagreed.

That conflict between memory and reality appeared several times throughout Adventure 1. I remembered the tracks, shortcuts and general rhythm of each world, but Krunch forced me to approach them differently.

Routes that once felt comfortable became awkward. Corners I barely noticed as Tiptup demanded more care. Mistakes that might have cost another racer a second could cost Krunch the entire race.

The game was familiar.

The experience was not.

Learning to Drive Krunch

That is probably the biggest thing Adventure 1 taught me.

Krunch is not necessarily a bad character.

He is a demanding one.

When I played Diddy Kong Racing as a child, I never spent enough time with him to understand how he needed to be driven. I would occasionally select him, notice that he felt heavier than Tiptup and move on without thinking much more about it.

Completing an entire adventure with him forced me to stop comparing him with the other racers.

I had to learn Krunch on his own terms.

I began planning corners instead of reacting to them. I learned when to ease off rather than force the turn. I became more conscious of maintaining momentum because rebuilding it could take too long.

Eventually, I stopped trying to make Krunch drive like Tiptup.

I started learning how to make Krunch drive like Krunch.

That did not suddenly transform him into the best racer in the game. T.T. still holds that position for a reason.

Krunch’s weaknesses remain obvious, and some races are undeniably harder with him. The comments on my videos repeatedly reminded me of that.

People called him the worst character in the game. They asked why anyone would choose the crocodile. Some claimed he had no aura, while others simply said that he sucked.

They were not entirely wrong about his reputation.

What mattered was that he still completed every challenge placed in front of him.

The Original Adventure Still Works

Returning without the randomizer also reminded me how well the structure of Diddy Kong Racing still holds together.

Timber’s Island remains more than a menu between races.

Each new world feels like a destination. Balloons open doors, keys reveal hidden challenges and boss victories change what becomes available. The island gives the adventure a sense of place that many racing games never attempt.

Even after knowing where everything was, completing each world still felt like meaningful progress.

Dino Domain introduced the journey.

Snowflake Mountain tested whether Krunch could maintain momentum through ice and uphill sections.

Sherbet Island shifted the focus towards hovercraft races and tighter lines.

Dragon Forest brought the last major stretch of Timber’s Island before the first confrontation with Wizpig.

Then Future Fun Land opened and reminded me why reaching it felt so significant when I was younger.

It still feels separate from the rest of the game. The tracks, music and setting give it the sense of a final hidden chapter waiting beyond the adventure players thought they had already completed.

Unlocking it still felt earned.

Unlocking Drumstick

Before returning to Wizpig, there was one other unfinished piece of business.

Drumstick still needed to be unlocked.

Most of the work had already been completed by that point. All that remained was finding the correct frog wandering around Timber’s Island and flattening it with the car.

It remains one of those wonderfully strange secrets that feels completely natural within a Rare game.

A racer had been transformed into a frog, and the solution was to drive over him.

Once Drumstick returned to normal and joined the roster, the final preparations were complete.

Wizpig was waiting.

Facing Wizpig Again

The first race against Wizpig was always going to demand attention.

Even without Krunch, it remains one of the biggest roadblocks in Diddy Kong Racing for anyone who is not a speedrunner or someone who has spent years mastering the game.

There are no balloons to rescue a bad attempt. There are no weapons to slow Wizpig down. The race depends on hitting the zippers, carrying speed and avoiding the water.

Krunch makes each of those requirements less forgiving.

Missing a zipper costs momentum. Touching the water makes his poor acceleration immediately obvious. A bad turn can allow Wizpig to build a lead that feels impossible to recover.

I had beaten this race before.

I had beaten it during the first randomizer attempt, then again during the complete randomizer run.

That experience did not make this victory automatic.

It still took multiple attempts.

There were runs where I knew almost immediately that it was not going to happen. There were others where I stayed close enough to believe, only for one small mistake to end the attempt.

Then everything held together.

The zippers connected. The corners worked. Krunch stayed close enough to keep the race alive.

As I reached the penultimate corner, the finish line came into view.

That was when it hit me.

I was not simply about to beat Wizpig again.

I was about to complete the first major stage of this journey as Krunch.

For the third time, the character considered the worst racer in Diddy Kong Racing had beaten Wizpig 1.

Future Fun Land was open.

The Final Chapter of Adventure 1

Future Fun Land still had to be completed.

The four races, their Silver Coin Challenges and the final Trophy Race all stood between Krunch and the true ending of Adventure 1.

By that stage, the journey had developed a steady rhythm.

Each race was familiar, but familiarity no longer meant carelessness. Krunch still demanded attention, particularly on tracks where narrow sections or sharp turns punished poor positioning.

There was also a different atmosphere to Future Fun Land.

Everything felt closer to the end.

Every completed race removed another obstacle. Every Silver Coin Challenge opened the path a little further. The final Trophy Race became the last formality before the final encounter with Wizpig.

Once that trophy had been claimed, nothing remained between Krunch and the last race of Adventure 1.

One Final Race

The second encounter with Wizpig is a very different challenge from the first.

Krunch trades the car for a plane and follows Wizpig through tunnels, machinery and open space.

I had already beaten this race during the randomizer, including a version stretched across four laps.

Even so, completing it here carried a different weight.

This was not the end of an unpredictable seed.

This was the conclusion of the original Adventure 1 journey.

During the race, I was focused on the same things I had been thinking about throughout the entire playthrough: maintaining speed, staying clean through corners and avoiding the kind of mistake that could undo everything.

Then came the final section.

As I approached the penultimate corner, the realisation returned.

I had done it.

Not just the race.

Adventure 1.

After every world, every boss, every Silver Coin Challenge and every Trophy Race, Krunch was about to cross the final finish line.

That was the moment that stayed with me.

Not the credits.

Not the celebration afterwards.

The moment just before the finish, when I realised the first leg of this journey was complete.

What Adventure 1 Changed

The randomizer proved that Diddy Kong Racing could still surprise me.

This playthrough proved something different.

It proved that a familiar game could feel new without changing any of its content.

All it took was changing the character.

Using Krunch altered the pace of the races and forced me to reconsider routes I thought I already understood. It made easy victories less reliable and difficult races even more demanding.

It also changed how I viewed him.

I began this wider KRUNCH% journey because I had learned that Krunch was considered the worst racer in the game. That reputation made him the obvious choice for a challenge.

Somewhere along the way, he stopped feeling like a restriction.

He became my racer.

I no longer selected him because the challenge required it.

I selected him because playing Diddy Kong Racing without him had started to feel wrong.

That may be the strangest outcome of all.

I began this journey intending to prove that Krunch could complete the game.

Instead, I ended Adventure 1 understanding why I wanted him to be the one who did it.

The Journey

This first stage of Krunch%: The Complete Adventure was recorded as a complete no-commentary playthrough on Steam Deck.

The journey covers every world of Adventure 1, every Silver Coin Challenge, every Trophy Race, the unlocking of Drumstick and both races against Wizpig.

New expeditions arrive first on the Survivor Incognito Facebook page before joining the weekly YouTube archive.

▶ Watch Krunch%: The Complete Adventure

If you would like to experience the journey from the beginning, the full playlist is available on YouTube.

Watch Krunch%: The Complete Adventure on YouTube

📘 Follow Survivor Incognito on Facebook

Facebook is where each new expedition begins before becoming part of the weekly YouTube archive.

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Support Survivor Incognito on Patreon

Videos also arrive on Patreon before reaching YouTube. Everything remains free to watch, with Patreon offering early access and an optional way to support future expeditions.

Support Survivor Incognito on Patreon

Adventure 2 Awaits

Adventure 1 may be complete, but this was only the first stage of the journey.

Adventure 2 still waits.

The Silver Coin Challenges will change. Familiar tracks will demand different routes, and the bosses will return for another series of rematches.

Beyond that, T.T. still needs to be unlocked.

That means beating the required staff time on every standard track, unlocking T.T.’s ghost and then defeating him.

All of it will be done as Krunch.

By the end of this journey, I will have defeated Wizpig 1 five times and Wizpig 2 four times using the character so many people insist is the worst racer in the game.

Perhaps they are right.

Krunch may be slow to recover. He may struggle with inclines, tight turns and anything that interrupts his momentum.

None of that has stopped him yet.

Adventure 1 is complete.

Adventure 2 awaits.

31st Aug 2026 0

Retro Reflections: Diddy Kong Racing Randomizer

When a Childhood Favourite Became Unpredictable

Revisiting the Games That Shaped a Lifetime of Gaming

Wizpig had been defeated.

Not once, but twice.

The first time by a Kremling driving a car. The second by that same Kremling piloting a plane.

It sounds ridiculous when you put it like that, but then this was never an ordinary playthrough of Diddy Kong Racing.

To understand why this challenge meant so much, it’s probably best to start back in 1997.

A Childhood Favourite

Diddy Kong Racing was one of the first games I owned for the Nintendo 64, and from the moment I first played it, I was hooked.

Contrary to what many people might expect, my character of choice wasn’t Krunch. It was Tiptup.

That little turtle carried me through everything the game had to offer. Adventure 1, Adventure 2, unlocking Drumstick, unlocking T.T., and eventually reaching 100% completion.

Looking back, I think Rare captured something special with Diddy Kong Racing. Timber’s Island wasn’t just a menu. It was a world to explore. New doors opened, bridges appeared, balloons unlocked fresh routes, and every boss victory felt like genuine progress.

The world felt enormous, every new area felt like an adventure, and simply exploring the island was almost as enjoyable as the races themselves.

It had a magic about it that only Rare seemed capable of creating.

Rediscovering the Adventure

Years later, I discovered that fans had created a randomizer for the game.

Instead of following the familiar progression, races, bosses, Silver Coin Challenges, keys, and other objectives could appear in completely unexpected places. Every seed offered a different journey.

The idea immediately interested me, but not enough to actually start playing.

Around the same time, I also discovered something else.

Krunch was widely considered the worst character in the game.

That surprised me.

I remembered using him occasionally as a child, but I’d never really thought much about how much more difficult he could make the game. T.T. being regarded as the best character made perfect sense considering what it took to unlock him, but Krunch being at the opposite end of the scale wasn’t something I had ever considered.

Krunch’s handling was always his biggest weakness. He had speed, but turning him could feel like steering a shopping trolley with one stubborn wheel. On tighter tracks, that could make the difference between winning and watching the rest of the field disappear into the distance.

Why Krunch?

Everything changed in 2026.

I came across someone attempting to complete both Adventure 1 and Adventure 2 as Krunch. Watching them struggle against Wizpig 1, a race responsible for frustrating countless players over the years, planted an idea in my mind.

Why not combine the two?

Rather than simply replaying Diddy Kong Racing, why not tackle a randomizer seed using the character many people considered the game’s weakest?

Most randomizer videos I had seen were completed by players using T.T. and speedrunning through carefully planned routes.

That wasn’t what I wanted.

I wanted to experience Diddy Kong Racing all over again.

Playing the challenge on Steam Deck also made it feel strangely fitting. Decades after first exploring Timber’s Island on the Nintendo 64, I was now revisiting one of my favourite childhood games on a handheld PC, chasing the same sense of adventure I remembered from years ago.

After experimenting with several seeds, I finally found one that felt right.

Almost immediately, something unexpected happened.

The sense of wonder I remembered from childhood returned.

The island no longer felt physically huge like it once had, but thanks to the randomizer, it became unpredictable again.

For the first time in decades, I didn’t know what was waiting behind the next door.

A Childhood Nightmare Returns

The first major obstacle came sooner than expected.

The randomizer had placed Wizpig 1 behind a door, allowing me to challenge him far earlier than normal.

For many players, Wizpig 1 was one of the defining challenges of childhood.

Speedrunners make the race look straightforward, but without extensive practice, Wizpig has a habit of reminding you exactly who’s in charge.

This time I wasn’t racing as Tiptup.

I was racing as Krunch.

My first victory took well over an hour of repeated attempts.

When I finally crossed the finish line ahead of Wizpig, something unexpected happened.

I started crying.

It genuinely felt as though I had healed a small piece of my childhood.

Oddly enough, once that race was over, it almost felt like the seed itself had reached its natural conclusion.

I had completed an unspoken challenge I hadn’t even realised I had set for myself.

When the Randomizer Fought Back

That wasn’t enough.

I wanted to complete an entire randomizer.

I generated another seed, this time making sure Wizpig 1 appeared at the end of a more traditional progression.

Every victory had to be earned.

Some of the biggest roadblocks weren’t where I expected them to be.

Tricky 2 became one of the toughest challenges in the entire run.

Despite already defeating him once in a previous seed, he repeatedly humbled me. I learned A-Tapping, watched experienced players, studied alternative strategies, and even experimented with climbing the mountain differently as Krunch.

This wasn’t just a case of throwing attempts at the same problem until the game gave in. I had to learn. I had to improve. I had to understand why I was failing instead of simply hoping the next attempt would work.

Eventually, something clicked.

I still don’t know exactly what changed, but I reached the summit and finally defeated him.

Then came Greenwood Village’s Silver Coin Challenge.

Five laps sounded generous.

The relocated coins told a very different story.

One awkwardly placed coin repeatedly ruined otherwise perfect attempts until, once again, persistence eventually won.

The randomizer also seemed determined to prove that planes solved almost everything. At times it felt as though every major objective involved taking to the skies. It became a running joke throughout the challenge that the randomizer may have forgotten cars existed.

By the time I reached Wizpig 1 for the second time, I genuinely felt I had earned another chance.

This victory took around half the time of the first.

The tears returned.

But there was still one final challenge waiting.

One Last Race

Wizpig 2.

The randomizer wasn’t finished making life difficult either.

Instead of the normal three laps, the final race became four.

Attempt after attempt ended with mistakes, restarts, or Wizpig reminding me that the finish line was still a long way away.

Then one run felt different.

Throughout the challenge I’d developed a strange habit of trusting my instincts. Sometimes I knew within moments that an attempt wasn’t going to be the one.

This time, that feeling never arrived.

Everything flowed.

Every corner connected.

Every boost landed.

Krunch, supposedly the worst racer in the game, felt unstoppable.

When I crossed the finish line, I simply stared at my Steam Deck.

The challenge was over.

I had completed a randomizer of one of my favourite childhood games using the character many people consider the weakest.

The emotion didn’t arrive immediately.

It wasn’t until the following morning that it finally sank in.

Only then did the tears come.

The Journey

This journey through Diddy Kong Racing Randomizer was recorded as a complete no-commentary playthrough using Krunch. If you’d like to experience the challenge from beginning to end, you can watch the full playlist on YouTube.

New adventures begin on the Survivor Incognito Facebook page, where videos are released first before joining the weekly YouTube archive.

▶ Watch the complete KRUNCH% – DKR Randomizer 2.0 playthrough on YouTube

📘 Follow Survivor Incognito on Facebook

Still Magical After All These Years

Unfortunately, Diddy Kong Racing never truly received the sequel it deserved.

The Nintendo DS version introduced new features, but for me it never quite captured the same feeling as the original Nintendo 64 release.

Maybe one day I’ll return once again and complete the original game as Krunch without a randomizer.

For now though, I’m happy knowing this challenge accomplished something I hadn’t expected.

It didn’t just prove that Krunch could beat a randomizer.

It proved that, nearly thirty years after first playing Diddy Kong Racing, the game could still surprise me.

The older I get, the rarer it becomes to experience a game with that same sense of wonder I had as a child.

Somehow, a randomizer and one stubborn Kremling gave me that feeling one more time.

29th Jul 2026 0

KRUNCH% Entry 7 | The Wizpig Wall Finally Falls

Seed: 232968 • Platform: Steam Deck • Character: Krunch • Format: No Commentary

The Race I Kept Avoiding

There is something I have been putting off for a while now.

Something waiting patiently for me in Dragon Forest.

Wizpig 1.

For those unfamiliar with Diddy Kong Racing, Wizpig 1 is one of the biggest walls in the entire game. The race itself sounds simple enough on paper:

Three laps
No balloons
Only zippers

In reality, it is one of the toughest skill checks in the game.

And Wizpig does not care how well the randomizer has treated you beforehand.

I have watched speedrunners destroy this race with T.T., the character many consider the best racer in the game.

The last time I personally beat Wizpig 1 was years ago on Adventure 2 using Tiptup.

This time?

I am doing it with Krunch.

Arguably the worst racer in the game.

At this point, I genuinely just want to prove to myself that it can actually be done.

Attempt After Attempt

Thankfully, the randomizer decides not to become completely evil here and gives me the standard Wizpig race.

Three laps.

Wizpig himself, however, shows absolutely no mercy.

Before starting, I establish a small rule for myself:

Five attempts maximum.

If I fail all five attempts, I reload the save state and reset mentally before trying again.

Simple.

Reasonable.

Probably necessary.

What follows is over an hour of learning how Krunch actually works under pressure.

Every failed attempt teaches me something new:

Be gentle with the control stick
Do not panic steer after zippers
Let the kart settle naturally
Know when to release the A button and when to accelerate again

More than anything else, the race becomes about consistency.

You do not need a perfect run where every zipper is flawless.

But you need to get dangerously close to one.

One bad correction.

One bad angle.

One missed zipper.

And Krunch immediately reminds you why most people do not pick him.

Attempt 7

Then Attempt 7 happens.

I get the blue boost at the start.

Good.

I need that if I want any chance of staying near Wizpig.

I hit the zippers cleanly and move into lap two right behind him.

Then, on the first zipper of lap two, I take the lead.

By lap three, I am somehow still ahead.

Not comfortably.

Not safely.

Just enough to keep believing this might actually happen.

Then the final zipper arrives.

Wizpig slips back ahead after I spend most of lap three in first place.

I hit the purple zipper.

The kart surges forward.

The finish line appears.

1st place.

Honestly, I still do not fully know whether Wizpig pushed me across the line or not.

It was that close.

A complete photo finish.

And honestly?

I do not care.

I had just beaten Wizpig 1 with Krunch.

Tears At The Finish Line

Wizpig 1 is already considered one of the toughest races in Diddy Kong Racing.

Beating him with Krunch feels like a genuine flex in anybody’s book.

I let the cutscene and credits roll while sitting there crying tears of joy.

Years ago, when I first booted up Diddy Kong Racing on the Nintendo 64, I never imagined I would one day come back and beat one of childhood gaming’s biggest walls using the character most people would never willingly choose for it.

Back then, Tiptup was enough.

Now?

Krunch survived.

The End Of Seed 232968

And honestly, this feels like the right place to end this particular randomizer.

Seed 232968 has taken me through Smokey 2, Darkmoon Caverns, Star City, Silver Coin Challenges, and more than a few moments where I questioned whether the randomizer was actively trying to ruin my day.

Most importantly, it taught me things about Diddy Kong Racing that I had never really needed to learn before.

A-tapping.

Better drifting.

Split timings.

How much speed can be gained or lost through tiny mistakes.

Then came Frosty Village.

A one-lap Silver Coin Challenge that became the wall of the entire run.

Could it be beaten?

Probably.

Given enough time, enough attempts, and enough stubbornness, I suspect Krunch could eventually force his way through.

But Survivor Incognito has always been built around one simple idea:

Surviving, Not Suffering.

The challenge stopped being an adventure and started becoming a grind.

So rather than spend weeks throwing Krunch at the same obstacle, I decided to call this run where it felt complete.

At Wizpig 1.

The wall that had been waiting for me since the beginning.

The race I kept avoiding.

The race that finally fell.

Seed 232968 may not be fully complete, but it achieved exactly what I wanted it to achieve.

Krunch survived.

And somewhere beyond the finish line, a brand new randomizer seed is already waiting.

Episode Video

Progress Log

Current Seed: 232968
Balloons: 18
Wizpig Amulet Pieces: 2
T.T. Amulet Pieces: 2
Bosses Defeated: Bubbler 2, Smokey 2, Bluey 1, Wizpig 1
Current Threat Level: Chapter complete

Continue the Journey

Entry 6 | Somehow, Star City Went Well ←

KRUNCH% Archive

— All entries in this run.

Next: KRUNCH% – DKR Randomizer 2.0 begins soon.

Super Mario ROM Hacks Archive

— All Mario ROM hack content.

26th Jul 2026 0

Retro Reflections: Donkey Kong ’94

When Four Levels Became a Ninety-Seven Level Adventure

Revisiting the Games That Shaped a Lifetime of Gaming

When people think about Donkey Kong, they no doubt picture the arcade classic released back in 1981. It introduced both Donkey Kong and Mario to the world, laying the foundations for two of Nintendo’s most recognisable characters.

Since then, both have gone on to star in countless adventures, but one game often gets overlooked: Donkey Kong for the Game Boy, better known today as Donkey Kong ’94.

At first glance, it looks like a faithful handheld version of the arcade original.

That’s exactly what Nintendo wanted you to think.

More Than Just an Arcade Port

The game begins with the original four arcade stages. If you’ve played the arcade game before, you’ll probably expect the credits to roll once they’re complete.

Instead, Donkey Kong gets back up, grabs Pauline, and runs away.

Only then does the real adventure begin.

What follows is another ninety-seven stages spread across a variety of worlds, turning what looked like a simple arcade conversion into one of the Game Boy’s biggest and most inventive adventures.

Even today, I still think it’s one of Nintendo’s cleverest surprises.

A Puzzle Platformer in Disguise

I remember sinking countless hours into Donkey Kong ’94 when I first owned it on the Game Boy.

Most stages shared a simple objective: collect the key and unlock the exit.

On paper, it couldn’t sound simpler.

In reality, every level introduced a different puzzle.

Switches, moving platforms, enemies, springs, ropes, and Mario’s ever-growing collection of acrobatic moves constantly changed how each stage played.

As the adventure progressed, Mario learned techniques that felt far beyond what the original arcade game offered. Handstands, backflips, high jumps, rope swings, and other athletic moves gave him a surprising amount of mobility, allowing Nintendo to create increasingly inventive puzzles.

Looking back, it’s easy to see how many of these ideas would later influence the Mario vs. Donkey Kong series. Mario wasn’t just running and jumping anymore; he was becoming a much more agile and versatile character.

If you wanted every present hidden throughout the game, you had another layer of challenge waiting for you.

For a Game Boy title released in 1994, it felt enormous.

Thirty Years Later

Returning to the game over thirty years later reminded me why it has remained one of my favourite Game Boy games.

Yes, it shows its age in places, but great game design rarely becomes outdated.

The puzzles remain satisfying, Mario controls beautifully, and the constant introduction of new mechanics keeps the adventure feeling fresh from beginning to end.

It deserves to be remembered as far more than simply “the Game Boy version of Donkey Kong.”

One Puzzle Left Unfinished

I’m going to be completely honest.

When I first owned the game as a child, I never truly completed it on my own.

There was one puzzle late in the game that completely defeated me. I eventually needed help to solve it, and although I finished every other stage myself, that one level always stayed with me.

Returning all these years later gave me the opportunity to put that right.

When that puzzle finally fell under my own determination, it felt like I had closed a chapter that had remained unfinished since childhood.

The Final Climb

Reaching the final battle felt surprisingly emotional.

Even though I had faced the final boss many times over the years, it usually took several attempts before everything came together.

This time, it happened on the very first attempt.

When the final hit landed and the credits began to roll, another familiar feeling returned.

Tears of joy.

This wasn’t simply about beating a Game Boy game.

It was about finally completing one of the games that helped shape the gamer I would become.

The Journey

This return to Donkey Kong ’94 was recorded as a complete no-commentary playthrough. If you’d like to experience the adventure from beginning to end, you can watch the full playlist on YouTube.

New adventures begin on the Survivor Incognito Facebook page, where videos are released first before joining the weekly YouTube archive.

▶ Watch the complete Donkey Kong ’94 playthrough on YouTube

📘 Follow Survivor Incognito on Facebook

Still Worth Playing Today?

Absolutely.

Although I didn’t set out to collect every present hidden throughout every stage, I achieved exactly what I wanted from this journey.

I finally completed Donkey Kong ’94 entirely on my own, something I had never managed as a child.

Looking back, I think Donkey Kong ’94 remains one of Nintendo’s most overlooked classics.

People often remember it for the first four arcade stages.

What they sometimes forget is that those four levels are simply the beginning of one of the finest puzzle platformers ever released on the Game Boy.

It may not receive the same recognition as the original arcade game or the Donkey Kong Country series, but it deserves to be remembered in its own right.

Three decades later, it still surprised me, still challenged me, and still reminded me why I fell in love with gaming in the first place.

21st Jul 2026 0

KRUNCH% Entry 6 | Somehow, Star City Went Well

Seed: 232968 • Platform: Steam Deck • Character: Krunch • Format: No Commentary

The Star City Gamble

I finally make my decision regarding Star City’s Silver Coin Challenge.

I am going to attempt it.

Admittedly, this already feels like a terrible idea, so I establish a rule beforehand:

Three attempts maximum.

If I fail all three attempts, I leave and investigate Sherbet Island’s original door instead.

Simple.

Reasonable.

Almost responsible, even.

Then I load into the challenge and immediately regret everything.

The randomizer gives me two laps on the Adventure 2 version of Star City, which honestly might have been worse if I had attempted it immediately after the standard race. At least now my muscle memory is confused in an entirely different direction.

What follows is somehow one of the strangest races of the campaign so far.

I am leading.

I only have three coins left entering the final lap.

Krunch is behaving himself.

And before I fully process what is happening, I somehow collect every coin and finish the race in first place.

On the first attempt.

Honestly, I am still not entirely convinced that actually happened.

Treasure Caves Appears

With sixteen balloons collected, I decide it is finally time to investigate whether the missing Snowflake Mountain course is hiding behind Dragon Forest’s door.

Turns out it is.

Treasure Caves.

The randomizer gives me four laps here, which after Star City honestly feels almost relaxing.

More importantly, I can feel myself slowly getting more comfortable controlling Krunch in the car.

Not perfect.

But noticeably better.

And considering Wizpig 1 is somewhere nearby waiting patiently for my eventual suffering, I will absolutely need that improvement.

One Lap Of Panic

After Treasure Caves, I decide to grab the Snowflake Mountain key and finally unlock the corresponding door.

This means heading to Snowball Valley.

Which is apparently where the randomizer decides to become funny again.

Because after giving me multiple extended races recently, it now decides Snowball Valley should only last a single lap.

Immediately, I abandon any thoughts of grabbing the key during the race itself.

Winning comes first.

The first two attempts are complete disasters.

The third attempt, however, finally works.

Balloon number eighteen is secured.

Only then do I head back in to grab the key properly.

Bluey 1 Returns

With the key collected, I finally make my way to the Snowflake Mountain door.

Behind it waits:

Bluey 1.

I immediately break into a smile.

Back when I originally played Diddy Kong Racing years ago, I used to replay Bluey 2 purely for fun. So seeing Bluey appear here already feels oddly nostalgic.

The fact this fight takes place in the hovercraft while using Krunch somehow makes things even better.

At this point, the hovercraft genuinely feels like Krunch’s natural habitat.

I even grab a blue balloon during the race purely because I can.

The race itself ends comfortably.

And with Bluey defeated, the Snowflake Mountain Silver Coin Challenges are now unlocked.

The Island Keeps Pulling Me Forward

Wizpig 1 remains tempting.

Very tempting.

But I still have other routes available before I commit to that problem.

Most notably:

The original Sherbet Island door.

And honestly, the more the island keeps hiding things behind unexpected routes, the more I want to know what is waiting there.

Episode Video

Progress Log

Current Seed: 232968
Balloons: 18
Wizpig Amulet Pieces: 2
T.T. Amulet Pieces: 2
Bosses Defeated: Bubbler 2, Smokey 2, Bluey 1
Current Threat Level: Controlled instability

Continue the Journey

Entry 5 | The Island Starts Showing Its Hand ←

Krunch% Archive

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Super Mario ROM Hacks Archive

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Entry 7 | →

19th Jul 2026 1

KRUNCH% Entry 5 | The Island Starts Showing Its Hand

Seed: 232968 • Platform: Steam Deck • Character: Krunch • Format: No Commentary

Options Are Running Thin

At this point, the island is starting to corner me a little.

I still have not investigated what hides behind the original Sherbet Island and Snowflake Mountain doors, but then I remember something important: I still have the key for the Dragon Forest door.

Which means it is time to head there instead.

Once inside, I decide to investigate exactly what is waiting for me throughout the area.

Snowball Valley
Frosty Village
Greenwood Village
Wizpig 1

At least now I finally know where Wizpig is hiding.

I have absolutely no intention of dealing with that problem anytime soon.

For now, I am here for the newly unlocked door:

Everfrost Peak.

Krunch Finally Gets To Fly

At this stage, I am becoming increasingly convinced that most of Snowflake Mountain has somehow migrated directly into Dragon Forest.

There is still one missing course from the world, but honestly, at this rate I would not be surprised if it eventually turns out to be hiding behind Sherbet Island’s door.

Everfrost Peak gives me five laps in the plane.

Which means this is finally one of those rare moments where Krunch feels genuinely dominant.

Once he gets moving in the plane, the sheer speed becomes ridiculous.

So ridiculous, in fact, that I end up lapping every other racer before the race is over.

For once, the randomizer actually feels generous.

Star City Appears

After finishing Everfrost Peak, I decide to finally investigate the Snowflake Mountain door.

Behind it waits Star City.

Which means I have now located two of Future Fun Land’s tracks.

The race itself gives me four laps to survive.

Thankfully, while Star City still contains several tight corners, I am slowly becoming more comfortable controlling Krunch in the car. Not perfectly comfortable, obviously. That would suggest stability, and KRUNCH% appears fundamentally opposed to that concept.

Still, the race itself goes surprisingly smoothly.

And then the island presents me with a problem.

The Silver Coin Dilemma

With fifteen balloons collected, my options are starting to branch in dangerous directions.

Really, I only have two major paths available to me right now:

Investigate what lies behind Sherbet Island’s original door.
Attempt Star City’s Silver Coin Challenge.

And honestly, after what Darkmoon Caverns Coins did to my hands a few entries ago, I am not entirely convinced I want to immediately throw myself into another high-pressure coin challenge.

Especially not on Star City.

Not yet.

So instead, I decide to stop there for the day and think about the next move carefully.

Because the island is no longer simply shuffling tracks around.

It is starting to ask difficult questions.

Episode Video

Progress Log

Current Seed: 232968
Balloons: 15
Wizpig Amulet Pieces: 2
T.T. Amulet Pieces: 2
Wizpig 1 Location: Confirmed
Current Threat Level: Increasing strategic instability

Continue the Journey

Entry 4 | Krunch Versus Basic Driving ←

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Super Mario ROM Hacks Archive

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Entry 6 | →

12th Jul 2026 1

Retro Reflections: Sonic the Hedgehog (Master System 2)

One of My Earliest Gaming Memories: Sonic the Hedgehog on the Master System 2

Surviving, Not Suffering.

Most people who grew up during the NES, Mega Drive/Genesis, and SNES era probably have a story about the game that introduced them to gaming.

For some it was Mario. For others it was Zelda, Donkey Kong, or one of the countless arcade games that seemed larger than life when viewed through the eyes of a child.

For me, one of my earliest gaming memories, other than playing Super Mario Bros. on an arcade machine, was Sonic the Hedgehog on the Master System 2.

The game came preloaded on the console, meaning there was no cartridge to insert and no collection to build. You simply switched the console on and Sonic was there waiting for you.

Looking back now, it was probably my first real experience of home console gaming.

A Much Bigger Adventure Than I Remembered

Like many childhood memories, the game felt enormous at the time.

Every zone seemed huge. Every level felt like an expedition. Progress felt hard-earned.

When I recently returned to the game after all these years, I completed it in around an hour. Adult me knows the levels, understands platformers better, and generally has far more gaming experience than the child who first picked up that controller.

Yet despite the shorter playtime, the game still felt like an adventure.

Many childhood games lose some of their magic when revisited years later. Sonic the Hedgehog on the Master System never really did.

Searching For Chaos Emeralds

One thing that always stood out to me was how different the Master System version felt from its Mega Drive counterpart.

Most people are familiar with the special stages from the Mega Drive version, where collecting enough rings would give you a chance to earn a Chaos Emerald.

The Master System version took a different approach.

Instead of entering special stages, the Chaos Emeralds were hidden within the levels themselves. You had to explore. You had to search. Sometimes you had to take routes that didn’t look important at first glance.

For younger me, that made the world feel bigger and more mysterious.

Finding a Chaos Emerald wasn’t just about completing a challenge. It felt like uncovering a secret.

Even today, I think it remains one of my favourite approaches to collecting the Emeralds in any Sonic game.

A Journey Across South Island

The zones themselves have stayed with me for decades.

Green Hill Zone remains an iconic starting point. Bridge Zone introduced long stretches over water and collapsing obstacles. Jungle Zone challenged my patience more than once. Labyrinth Zone felt dangerous and intimidating. Scrap Brain Zone signalled that the adventure was nearing its conclusion.

Then came Sky Base Zone.

I always liked how the game made it clear that you were getting closer to Robotnik with every stage you completed. The journey felt like it was building towards something.

Each zone pushed you further forward until eventually there was nowhere left to go except the final confrontation.

For a younger player, that sense of progression was powerful.

Still Worth Playing Today?

Absolutely.

Now, I should probably admit that I am not entirely unbiased here.

This is one of the earliest gaming memories I have.

Nostalgia is undoubtedly part of the experience.

Even so, I genuinely believe the game still holds up. The controls remain responsive, the level design remains enjoyable, and the adventure still feels rewarding from beginning to end.

It may not be as famous as the Mega Drive version, but it deserves to be remembered in its own right.

The Journey

This return to Sonic the Hedgehog on the Master System was recorded as a complete no-commentary playthrough. If you’d like to experience the adventure from beginning to end, you can watch the full playlist on YouTube.

New adventures begin on the Survivor Incognito Facebook page, where videos are released first before joining the weekly YouTube archive.

▶ Watch the complete Sonic the Hedgehog playthrough on YouTube

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The Blue Hedgehog That Started It All

It’s impossible for me to separate Sonic the Hedgehog on the Master System from my own gaming history.

When I think about where this hobby began, my mind often comes back to that console and that game.

Back then, I had no idea that decades later I would be running a gaming blog, documenting challenge runs, writing survival diaries, and spending far too much time discussing virtual disasters on the internet.

I was simply playing a game about a blue hedgehog trying to stop a mad scientist.

But without that blue hedgehog, I might never have become a gamer at all.

And for that reason alone, Sonic the Hedgehog on the Master System 2 will always hold a special place in my gaming history.

9th Jul 2026 0