The Raster Bar

Memory

A low-lit kids' bedroom with twin bunks; an even-darker screen with glowing comic panels; a strange sense of cartoonish unease.

Those are my enduring memories of Batman: The Caped Crusader, a game that went unplayed for many days after my family's initial C64 purchase - cast aside in favour of the immediate, if flawed, thrills of Blaze Out and its sister light gun games in the Light Fantastic bundle.

When I finally did sit down to play it one gloomy night, I quickly found myself hooked. I was by no means a 'Batman fan'; ironically too young for both the DC comics and the contemporary Keaton/Nicholson movie, my only real exposure to the character was the much-loved, much-parodied '60s TV series starring Adam West and Burt Ward. Ill-fitting spandex, on-screen BOP! and POW! effects, and the classic 'dinner, dinner' theme tune were the lens through which I engaged with the game.^[1] B:TCC evoked much of the camp and bombast that infused the TV series, but my young self sensed a darker edge to the proceedings - something menacing beneath the costumed goons and improbable items.

Much of this was no doubt due to the presentation: a unique take on flick-screen action-adventure that I don't recall seeing anywhere else, apart from the surreal Frankie Goes To Hollywood - released years before, but not yet on my personal radar at the time. Locations were displayed in comic book frames, overlaid as Batman moved between them, the previous areas fading into the background. Obviously (and successfully) designed to evoke the source material, for me it made Batman seem trapped, isolated, the very screen closing in on him. Against the jet-black background and the C64's limited palette, the excellent and detailed graphics exuded a murky, grim vibe, from the very first moment in the Batcave, to the back alleys, dark warehouses and filthy sewers of Gotham City.

The game's enemies enhanced this strangely oppressive atmosphere. Upon leaving the Batcave, our hero was subjected to near-constant assault from a menagerie of human and automaton opponents, who shot and bludgeoned the Dark Knight as he plodded from screen to screen. Batman had a suitable arsenal of kicks, punches and Batarangs with which to defend himself, but the onslaught was never-ending, with new enemies - many of whom flew beyond reach, or stunned the Caped Crusader with their attacks - spawning at a steady rate. Subjected to incessant chip damage while exploring the admirably-large levels, the inventory screen was the only respite - and even then, Batman's health continued to slowly erode.^[2]

Healing items could stave off the inevitable, but when the end came, it did so abruptly. With no on-screen indication of Batman's health during normal gameplay, my first game-over was functionally a jumpscare: the game suddenly cut to a black 'FINI' screen with a blaring, remorseful tune overpowering the speakers. It took me completely by surprise, and no doubt seeded the sense of foreboding B:TCC would instil in me thenceforth.^[3] Speaking of music: the in-game theme was a fantastic composition, intrepid yet tense at first, then evolving and increasing in drama and fanfare as it went on, with many cleverly-woven hints of the TV show's melodies included. Sadly, playback was reset every time I interacted with an item, resulting in constant repetition of the first few bars, again and again, as I played the game. A missed opportunity, and a flaw that heightened that oppressive, bizarre sense of unease even further.

The game actually provided two scenarios, one on each side of the tape. Side A found The Penguin doing... something with a super-computer, while Side B was a fairly straightforward kidnap-and-ransom plot involving The Joker. Gameplay saw Batman exploring the flick-screen locations, collecting items to gain access and solve puzzles, and fighting off the aforementioned hordes of enemies. The Joker scenario had an additional network of explosives to defuse, though this was less a puzzle and more a treasure hunt.^[4]

My memory of the 'puzzles' themselves is fairly hazy. I do recall much wandering around, attempting to interact with evidently non-interactable scenery, and not realising at first that certain buildings could be climbed - though the latter detail is more a failure of my perception and/or the quality of my TV. I remember some truly strange inventory items, from the whimsical (trainers to increase Batman's movement speed; a false nose as a temporary reprieve from enemy assault) to the superfluous (multiple musical items that played a stanza of the TV theme tune, to no other effect) to the useless (toilet roll, a hand grenade(!)). Figuring out how to progress with these items, 'aided' by some often-cryptic frame captions, could be tough. And yet, thanks to the stellar presentation and the sense that it could be beaten, I returned to Batman: The Caped Crusader often. I never finished either scenario by myself, eventually resorting to both a walkthrough and a POKE cheat for infinite energy. I did try, I assure you.

Analysis

I'm struck by how polished B:TCC feels here in the modern day. The stylish and detailed visuals, well-crafted interface, wonderful sonics and eclectic locations - all in a single load! - still impress, helped by a splash of classy details: the zooming Bat-symbol transitions, incidental animations like TV monitors and fruit machines, the pixelated-yet-distinct character of the goons, and that striking comic-panel look.

The gameplay itself remains a mixed bag. Our hero controls fairly intuitively, and exudes a certain stoic charm as he stomps across the frame in his Adam West blue-and-grey, no-selling bullets and bombs yet wincing beneath the occasional headbutt. The constant harrassment from the enemies is definitely grating after a while, and makes combat seem redundant, given your ultimate inability to truly stem the flow of damage. Survival becomes a matter of locating and rationing the few healing items available, while focusing on the optimal path to a solution.

The puzzles, if they can be called such, generally make sense - a lockpick for a warehouse door, wire cutters to defuse bombs, a flashlight to illuminate dark rooms - but aspects of the overall solution can be opaque in ways typical of the time. The Joker's scenario ended suddenly and rapidly on my first few plays, my health mysteriously depleted, until I realised that the stench of the sewers was silently killing Batman without the use of a gas mask item. Completing the Joker plot, meanwhile, requires beating him up to obtain a key item after achieving certain other objectives. None of this is conveyed in the game or instructions, and since you encounter Joker as a recurring goon enemy prior to this, the notion he will suddenly drop a critical item (after yet another ineffectual fistfight) is an unlikely one. I certainly was surprised to read it in a walkthrough even all those years ago.

Not that the ending to either scenario is worth the effort: a typically terse congratulatory one-liner, with not even a unique piece of music as reward. I wonder if something was lost in translation between this and the 16-bit versions of the game, which likely provided a little more context for what was required of the player at a given time, and hopefully a more satisfying victory.^[5]

As mentioned, back in 1989 I found a certain melodramatic doom in Batman: The Caped Crusader's aesthetic and ambience. Even the cover art of The Joker's demonic laughter made me shudder. Time has demystified the game and its mechanics for me, aided in no small part by the meteoric rise of the character's public prominence in the intervening decades.^[6] And though that strange sense of claustrophobic menace still occasionally finds me in the game's frame-by-frame depiction of dastardly Gotham deeds, what remains is a well-crafted and engaging action adventure with a few annoying, yet forgivable, quirks.

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