Playmates Interactive first released "Earthworm Jim" for the SNES in 1994, a year that, though we didn't know it then, represented something of a creative peak for video games. Visually, the blockbusters of that era were humble affairs, pixelated and iconographic; we've come a long way since then, purely on terms of being able to make a human look like a human. Yet there was a spirit of anarchic adventure in a lot of those 16-bit games that's never really been seen before or since, and "Earthworm Jim," recently re-released for Nintendo's Virtual Console, captured this joie de vivre as well as anything. Its design may have set a standard for untold future games, but its freewheeling, anything-can-happen atmosphere perfectly crystallized the present moment.
The story concerns the theft of an advanced piece of wearable technology -- known, officially, as the "Ultra-high-tech-indestructible-super-space-cyber-suit" -- from one Evil Queen Pulsating, Bloated, Festering, Sweaty, Pus-filled, Malformed, Slug-for-a-Butt. (The humor of "Earthworm Jim" tends toward the maximal and the hyphenated.) The Super Suit falls to Earth from orbit and lands on an ordinary earthworm named Jim, mutating him into a bipedal, superintelligent (Wikipedia: "at least by earthworm standards") sci-fi hero. Jim takes it upon himself to defeat Queen Slug-for-a-Butt and rescue her beautiful sister from certain doom. In what may be a commentary on the general interchangeability of video-game distressed damsels, the sister and object of Jim's desire is called Princess What's-Her-Name.
It's hard even to talk about "Earthworm Jim" without getting caught up in the game's irreverent mayhem. You'll launch a cow into orbit, get sucked down a toilet, and face off against a fish-vomiting junkyard lord, and this is before you even reach the second level. From there, the wackiness escalates: eventually you’re bungee-jumping from a string of snot, battling fireball-spitting snowmen in hell, and riding a giant cat-eating hamster. On paper, this looks like a funless mess, but when you're actually playing it all seems to fit somehow. The deadpan Dadaism of the scenarios recalls "Monty Python's Flying Circus," and the cel-shaded character designs give "Earthworm Jim" arguably more personality and charm than any other game of its time.
The graphics were ground-breaking for 1994, and they remain more than serviceable today. The hand-drawn characters mesh seamlessly with watercolor-like, smoothly shaded environments. Though we may all be spoiled by high-definition televisions, "Earthworm Jim"'s visuals still won’t disappoint.
The tight, responsive controls make for great twitch shooting action, which is essential: many of the enemies are very quick and can easily tear into Jim if he is not careful. Negotiating jumps are also a cinch, and with a little practice you'll be swinging from ledge to ledge with ease. Not every move roll off the fingers: the helicopter maneuver, useful for slowing the descent on a jump, is needlessly frantic to execute, requiring a rapid mashing of the jump button as you do it. Controlling the submersible in the water level can also be frustrating. These are exceptions, though; for the most part, "Earthworm Jim" plays like a dream.
If you somehow made it through the nineties without playing this game, it's time to get caught up. "Earthworm Jim" was one of those rare titles to enjoy almost universal affection, and once you start playing you'll see why that was. This one comes with our recommendation. Seven bucks for a vintage cosmology of unending weirdness? Not a bad deal.
