"A Japanese video game involving tentacles . . . naughty."

In 1990 LucasArts teamed up with publisher Jaleco and released an excellent conversion of the popular computer game Maniac Mansion on the Nintendo Entertainment System in North America and the UK. But did you know that Jaleco was no stranger to the mansion? Two years earlier their own development team had released an exclusively Japanese conversion for the NES’ equivalent, Nintendo’s Family Computer; this review refers to that largely unknown Famicom release. Turn back now!

Poor Dave has it rough. As if the pressures of putting off term papers and sleeping through classes at State University weren’t enough, his girlfriend Sandy has been captured by a mad scientist who wants to suck out her pretty brains. She probably wouldn’t miss them very much, but there’s more than just Sandy’s cerebellum at stake; it seems that her captor, the retired physician Dr. Fred Edison, is planning on a bit of good old-fashioned world domination as soon as he perfects his patented Zombie Machine. Ah well, everyone needs a hobby. Then again, he really hasn’t been the same ever since the incident twenty years ago, when that strangely glowing, slimy purple meteor crashed near his family’s estate in the hills outside of town. There’s only one thing to do: Dave gathers up his courage, not to mention all of his fellow students who aren’t already occupied igniting dumpsters and throwing televisions off of dorm roofs, and sets out to rescue his lost love from the clutches of the good doctor and his maniac mansion!

Realizing that his slacking skills alone may not be sufficient for the task at hand, Dave has managed to drag six of his friends into this mess to aid in the rescue mission: musicians Razor and Syd (representing punk rock and new wave respectively,) ace photographer Michael, aspiring novelist Wendy, nerdy Bernard, and “surfer dude” Jeff. Unlike *your* friends, each one of them possesses a unique talent that will coincidentally enough be integral to the group’s success; Bernard, for instance, is quite adept at tinkering with electronics, while only Michael can develop film. Sounds straightforward enough, right? Ha! Dave can bring along only two allies and is thereafter stuck with them for the duration of the story. Herein lies one of Maniac’s greatest strengths, for you can experiment with any combination of characters you like in an attempt to achieve one of ten possible endings. Not all parties are created equally – the strategies for solving the puzzles depend largely on your selections, so choose wisely!

While many computer adventures of its time required the player to type in their commands, Maniac Mansion relies upon a set of on-screen verbs (Go To, Pick Up, Use) to solve the game, a system that would become a standard for the genre. Similarly departing from the norm, the protagonist cannot accomplish everything on his own; in order to reach the end you must frequently switch between your characters as you move about the house. A few strategies will require more than one person to get involved, perhaps setting one character to hold open a secret door while another slips through; try not to get them killed, okay?

You see, Dave and company have more to worry about than simply Dr. Fred and his slimy purple meteor. For a good time you might try Nurse Edna, his charming wife, but watch out for their son Weird Ed, a “teenage commando with a hamster fetish.” The Edison clan also includes Green and Purple, a pair of disembodied tentacles who are nevertheless somehow capable of speech, and surely no one can forget lovable Dead Cousin Ted, the mummified relative currently residing in the family’s shower. The real star of the show, as you have no doubt already surmised, is the rampant weirdness and campy humor that LucasArts fans have come to expect. There’s a chainsaw in the kitchen? Sure, why not? The library staircase is, we are helpfully informed, “out of order.” A quick search through Green T’s record collection uncovers the joys of tentacle mating calls . . . ooh yeah. Looking for a bit of relaxation? Please enjoy a dip in the swimming pool, which conveniently doubles as a cooling pond for the house’s seldom-critical nuclear reactor! Meanwhile, as you rack your brain attempting to comprehend exactly what it is you’re supposed to do with Chuck The Plant, the game is periodically interrupted by potentially informative cut-scenes that clue you in to the activities and motivations of the Edisons as the story unfolds. Ed is waiting for a package, is he? Perhaps you could distract him by ringing the doorbell . . .

But what’s this? Playing Maniac Mansion on the Famicom is not unlike Nachos, Flanders Style: hauntingly familiar, yet a slightly tasteless simulacrum of your expectations. The graphics, once large and impressive if a bit simplistic, have apparently been exposed to a Diminuator Ray and shrunk dramatically. Sparsely decorated in odd pastels, the house and its inhabitants are relegated to a small window in the center of the screen, while Dave and his friends have been reduced to cute little munchkins with smiles plastered on their faces. Their apparent good humor never fades; kill everyone off and we find the group floating in the clouds with little halos. Perhaps most baffling of all, Dr. Fred is a kindly-looking old man whose captive Sandy, that scantily clad tuna head, now wears pigtails and a black jumper. I blame the Japanese education system.

I also blame the sound team; despite a respectable rendition of the computer game’s opening theme, the music seems quite out of place. Dave’s party is accompanied by the ever-present sounds of scuffling shoes and three sluggish, repetitive tunes that I suspect of containing subliminal messages urging me to mess with the nuclear reactor and blow the house to kingdom come. Disparately, pausing the game strikes up a cheerfully annoying tune that conjures up images of being put on hold after calling the Nintendo company hotline. True, the computer version didn’t have much music at all, but that’s no excuse for slapping together a cluster of mismatched themes that sound as though they belong in a completely different game - preferably one far, far away.

That’s not to say that everything has changed. Most of the risqué material has thankfully been left intact; squint hard enough and you too can be offended by classical nude sculptures and ancient Egyptian swimsuit calendars. Naturally we just wouldn’t be playing Maniac Mansion without microwaved rodents, yet this scene is actually less graphic than the censor-approved NES version . . . ironic, no? The cursor remains as stiff and unresponsive as ever, which quickly makes navigating the mansion cumbersome. Speaking of cumbersome, Jaleco’s solution to saving games harkens back to the good old days with a password system that’s a whopping 104 characters long. Take out your pencils, children! I hope you remembered your scrap paper!

Starting to feel a little scared? At least the language barrier needn’t frighten you; the text consists entirely of hiragana and requires little effort in translating the command verbs and inventory that make up the heart of the game. The chances are good that you know the solutions by heart anyway, although a passing familiarity with the Japanese postal system may come in handy. Famicom Maniac Mansion is not a poor game, but it regrettably falls significantly short of its famous parent. Approaching it as an inexplicable take on an old favorite, I found it an enjoyable enough oddity, and perhaps you will as well. Then again, perhaps it’s not your cup of tentacle; I can certainly respect that.

(. . . tuna head.)

Reviewer's Score: 6/10, Originally Posted: 01/08/03, Updated 01/09/03