The Retro Revival: Project Neon and the Art of Frustration
There’s something undeniably nostalgic about firing up a shoot 'em up that feels like it’s straight out of the ’90s arcade scene. Project Neon, a Neo Geo title that made its way to the Switch after a successful Kickstarter campaign, is a love letter to that era. But here’s the thing: it’s not just a retro rehash. It’s a game that demands respect, patience, and a willingness to embrace frustration. Personally, I think that’s what makes it so compelling—and so divisive.
A Game That Doesn’t Hold Your Hand
One thing that immediately stands out is how Project Neon refuses to coddle its players. With a single default difficulty, no button configuration options, and a CRT filter that feels more like a nod to the past than a modern convenience, it’s clear this game isn’t here to make friends. What many people don’t realize is that this stripped-down approach is intentional. It’s a throwback to the arcade days when games were designed to eat your quarters, not to be beaten in one sitting.
The inclusion of touchscreen controls is a curious addition, though. On one hand, it makes maneuvering easier—almost too easy. On the other, it raises questions about fairness, especially for competitive players. In my opinion, it’s a double-edged sword. While it lowers the barrier to entry, it also dilutes the purity of the experience. If you take a step back and think about it, the game seems to be sending mixed signals: Do we want accessibility, or do we want authenticity?
The Soundtrack That Steals the Show
Graphically, Project Neon is solid but unremarkable. It’s the soundtrack that truly shines. There’s a moment in the Sulfur Planet stage where the music syncs perfectly with the chaos on screen, and it’s electric. What makes this particularly fascinating is how the audio elevates the gameplay, turning what could be a forgettable experience into something visceral. It’s a reminder that sound design is often the unsung hero of game development.
Risk, Reward, and the Pink Laser
The scoring system in Project Neon is where the game’s depth really emerges. The rapid-fire button, which turns your laser pink and boosts its power after ten consecutive kills, is a masterclass in risk-reward mechanics. But here’s the catch: it’s not as simple as holding down the button. You need to strategically let certain enemies live to bridge gaps, all while dodging a barrage of bullets. It’s a system that rewards precision and planning, but it’s also unforgiving.
From my perspective, this is where the game truly tests your mettle. It’s not just about reflexes; it’s about understanding patterns, making split-second decisions, and accepting that failure is part of the process. What this really suggests is that Project Neon isn’t just a game—it’s a puzzle wrapped in a bullet hell.
The One-Credit Challenge
The game’s emphasis on the one-credit-clear is both admirable and infuriating. Continuing doesn’t feel rewarding, and the five stages are short enough that you’re almost forced to master them. But here’s the kicker: the first stage is arguably harder than some of the later ones, which feels like a deliberate gatekeeping mechanism. It’s a bold design choice, but one that I think alienates more players than it retains.
A detail that I find especially interesting is the power-up system. The rotating rings that grant shot enhancements, bombs, and spread bullets require precision to maximize. The ChoRenSha 68K trick, where you camp in the center of the ring to absorb all three upgrades, is a neat easter egg—but it’s also a testament to how unforgiving the game can be.
The Last Boss: A Step Too Far?
Now, let’s talk about the elephant in the room: the final boss. Its last form feels like it was ripped straight out of DoDonPachi, complete with bullet patterns that border on absurd. What many players don’t realize is that this isn’t just a test of skill—it’s a test of endurance. Even if you make it to the final phase on a single credit, the odds are stacked against you.
In my opinion, this is where Project Neon overreaches. While the rest of the game feels balanced for learning, the final boss phase feels like a punishment. It’s not just hard; it’s demoralizing. If you take a step back and think about it, it raises a deeper question: At what point does difficulty stop being engaging and start being alienating?
A Labor of Love—But for Whom?
Project Neon is undeniably a labor of love. The developers clearly have a deep affection for ’90s arcade shooters, and it shows in every pixel and soundwave. But here’s the thing: it’s a game that feels like it’s made for a very specific audience—hardcore players who thrive on challenge and repetition.
What this really suggests is that the game isn’t just a revival of a genre; it’s a statement. It’s a reminder that not all games need to be accessible, that frustration can be a feature, not a bug. Personally, I think that’s what makes Project Neon so interesting. It’s not for everyone, and it doesn’t apologize for that.
Final Thoughts: A Game That Demands Respect
If there’s one takeaway from Project Neon, it’s this: it’s a game that demands respect. It doesn’t care if you’re having fun—it cares if you’re willing to put in the work. From the unforgiving difficulty curve to the final boss that feels like a brick wall, every aspect of the game is designed to test your limits.
In my opinion, that’s both its greatest strength and its biggest flaw. It’s a game that will be celebrated by some and dismissed by others, but it’s impossible to ignore. If you’re willing to embrace the frustration, Project Neon offers a rewarding experience. But if you’re not, it’s a reminder that sometimes, the past is best left in the past.
What this really suggests is that the retro revival isn’t just about nostalgia—it’s about preserving a mindset. Project Neon isn’t just a game; it’s a challenge. And in a world where games are increasingly designed to be beaten, not mastered, that’s something worth thinking about.
