Developed by Audiogenic Software and published by Mindscape, Loopz is a 1990 puzzle game that challenges players to create closed loops by rotating and placing Tetris-like pieces against an increasingly aggressive timer. Originally an Audiogenic arcade title, the game demands quick spatial reasoning as pieces must connect to form complete circuits—no overlapping allowed, and mistakes can quickly cascade into impossible situations. The NES port maintains the arcade’s core challenge while adding multiple difficulty levels and a two-player mode that the back of the box proudly touts as “enthralling.”

The gameplay is straightforward but unforgiving. As I discovered during our session, starting on level three without understanding the mechanics is a recipe for disaster. The pieces come faster, the shapes get more complex, and that purple timer bar fills as you scramble to make sense of increasingly awkward configurations. We kept hitting the wrong buttons—rotate when we meant to place, place when we meant to rotate—which led to some genuinely frustrating moments. There’s a meditative quality to the game when you’re in the flow, but getting to that flow state requires patience and precision that not every player will want to invest.

Here’s the thing about Loopz: it’s not a bad game. The mechanics work, the concept is solid, and there’s clearly depth here for puzzle enthusiasts willing to master its systems. But as I mentioned during our recording, “if you’re picking your kickball teams and you’re having to pick four or five teams and you’re down to that fifth team, someone’s got to be last and that’s Loopz.” It’s the puzzle game you play after you’ve exhausted Dr. Mario, Tetris, Klax, and yes, even Krazy Kreatures. The back of the box promises “10 torturous levels,” and honestly, that’s truth in advertising—though probably not in the way they intended.

We gave it a somewhat reluctant one rating, acknowledging that it would make a decent handheld game for a long bus ride where you had nothing else available. It’s the gaming equivalent of finding yourself stranded with only this cartridge to keep you company—you’d be grateful it exists, but you wouldn’t have chosen it first.

Published by Taxan (sporting an impressive 4-0 record) and developed by KID, Low G Man: The Low Gravity Man is a 1990 sci-fi action platformer that commits the hilarious redundancy of including “The Low Gravity Man” as its own subtitle. The game’s intro sets up a story about a robot-producing exploration planet (apparently a dime a dozen in this universe) where trouble arrives in the form of hostile forces. The solution? Send in Low G Man— whose qualifications are never quite explained, but whose name sounds cool enough that we don’t really care.

What makes Low G Man special is its unique combat system centered around a spear. While you do have a gun, the real star of the show is your ability to jump incredibly high (justified by the low gravity premise) and come crashing down with a downward spear strike that’s deeply satisfying to execute. It’s like the Zelda 2 downthrust. The game also features mech suits you can commandeer, though they’re frustratingly limited—you can’t shoot upward, and getting out of them isn’t always intuitive.

The level design throws you into immediate action with fast-moving enemies and challenging platforming sections. The first boss we encountered was surprisingly tough, requiring precise positioning to land spear strikes on specific weak points. There’s a bit of a learning curve to the combat—you can’t just spam attacks, you need to understand enemy patterns and positioning. I managed to pull off some stylish kills once he got into the rhythm, commenting that “it feels good to do that” when successfully chaining spear attacks.

The game’s presentation is solid, with Mega Man-style font work and upbeat music that keeps the energy high even during tough sections. The story may be paper-thin (seriously, “then they came” is doing a lot of heavy lifting), but the gameplay is what matters here. This is a straightforward one rating—it’s a cool shooter with unique mechanics and satisfying combat. Low G Man deserves more recognition than its admittedly ridiculous name might suggest.

Lunar Pool is a 1987 pool simulation with a twist, developed by Compile (though my notes also reference Pony Incorporated—the development credits get a bit murky here) and published for the NES. What starts as a seemingly straightforward billiards game quickly reveals itself to be something more akin to cosmic mini-golf, with 60 increasingly bizarre table layouts that would make any pool hall owner weep. The back of the box proudly advertises “255 levels of table friction,” which seems like an oddly specific technical specification to tout, but it does hint at the game’s surprising depth.

The gameplay works well, with players rotating around the cue ball to line up shots, adjusting power with a golf-swing-style meter, and adding English by positioning their strike point. The NES version handles these mechanics smoothly, and as Jake discovered during our session, the controls become intuitive once you understand the system. His performance was genuinely impressive—he ran several tables with ease.

What makes Lunar Pool special is how it transitions from traditional pool to something completely different. The early tables are standard rectangular affairs, but soon you’re dealing with asymmetrical pockets, obstacles in the middle of the table, and layouts that look more like miniature golf courses than billiards tables. It’s like the developers started with pool and said “but what if we made it weird?” The result is engaging and creative, offering significantly more variety than a straight simulation would provide.

The game also features two-player support and what the box cryptically calls “continuous scoring as a feature”—we’re still not entirely sure what that means, but it sounds impressive. We also discussed the intriguing possibility that the game might let you tour different planets with varying gravity and friction levels, which would explain that oddly specific “255 levels of table friction” claim. This is an easy one rating—it’s a creative take on pool that would have made an excellent rental and still holds up as a fun way to kill an afternoon.

M.U.L.E. is a legendary 1983 strategy/economics simulation that made its way to the NES in 1990, published by Mindscape and originally created by Ozark Softscape. The title stands for “Multiple Use Labor Element”—the robotic pack animals that form the backbone of your colonization efforts on the planet Irata (a name that’s not suspicious at all if you read it backwards). This is a game that was “seven years in the making” according to its attract screen, and it shows in the depth and complexity of its systems.

The game supports up to four players, each selecting from a delightfully weird roster of alien species. Jake went with the Leggites (“from the Afghan plains… Leggites love legs and all”), creatures defined entirely by their long legs and apparently named through the most literal process imaginable. I chose the Packers from the Silicone System, described as beings who “love food”—a characteristic I found deeply relatable. Other options include Bonzoids from the Armipol Galaxy (who love climbing), Mechtrons (robotic mutations who are “efficient at death”), and Gollumers, whose name presumably came before anyone thought about the legal implications.

The gameplay involves claiming plots of land, purchasing and outfitting M.U.L.E.s for different resource production (food, energy, smithore), visiting the pub to gamble (where we discovered everyone in the galaxy has a serious gambling problem), and trying to become the wealthiest colonist before the ship returns. The game throws random events at you—pirates stealing ore, mischievous elves raiding your food stores, spoilage affecting your resources—keeping you constantly reacting to new challenges. There’s also an auction system that we barely scratched the surface of, where players can trade resources while performing what the game calls “push stick” dancing.

As Jake noted, M.U.L.E. has strong Master of Orion and Civilization vibes, which makes sense given its place in the pantheon of early strategy games. The manual would clearly be essential for understanding the deeper systems—we were largely fumbling through our five-minute session, making wild guesses about optimal strategies. But even in our brief time, the game’s appeal was evident. The economic simulation is robust, the multiplayer competition is engaging, and there’s real strategic depth hiding under the quirky alien presentation. This is absolutely a one rating, with the caveat that serious players will want to invest significant time learning its systems.

Published by Bandai in 1986, M.U.S.C.L.E.: Tag Team Match (which stands for “Millions of Unusual Small Creatures Lurking Everywhere”) is a wrestling game based on the popular toy line and anime series Kinnikuman. The NES version features a delightfully weird roster of fighters including knights in full armor, barbarians, and various other characters pulled from the toy line’s 233-figure collection. The game supports two-player action and, as we discovered, delivers surprisingly fun multiplayer chaos that elevates it above typical wrestling game fare.

The gameplay is straightforward but effective. You’ve got basic attacks, jumping strikes, and—most importantly—the ability to execute what we scientifically determined was a “fart slam.” The moves are limited but satisfying, especially when you manage to pull off a suplex or get your opponent into a corner for a combo. Power-ups appear periodically, granting temporary invincibility indicated by a flashing orb effect. The physics are appropriately over-the-top, with characters bouncing around the ring and occasionally getting injured to the point where they can’t jump, punch, or move effectively until they grab a recovery item.

What makes M.U.S.C.L.E. work is its personality. Jake chose the knight character while I went with a different fighter, and watching a fully armored medieval warrior grapple with these weird toy-line creatures was genuinely entertaining. There’s also environmental variety—one arena features ice physics that send fighters sliding around, adding chaos to an already chaotic experience. The game includes tag team mechanics (we didn’t explore whether it’s a four-player free-for-all or proper tag team action, but either sounds appealing), and the limited moveset actually works in the game’s favor by keeping things accessible.

We both agreed this earned a solid one rating. The game would be excellent with four players using a multitap, and it captures that same “let’s just mess around” energy that makes the best party games memorable. M.U.S.C.L.E. isn’t trying to be a serious simulation—it’s embracing the absurdity of its toy line origins and delivering fun multiplayer wrestling action that still holds up nearly 40 years later.