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About Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (NES)
I still get a thrill thinking about diving into that pixelated version of the Ninja Turtle universe, where you’re given four shell-backed heroes to choose from before each adventure. You start off on the city streets, thumping Foot Soldiers with katanas, bo staffs, sais, or nunchucks—and when you lose a few rounds, you can duck underground into the sewers for a breather and a quick power-up. The health meter is a simple row of pizza slices, and nothing feels better than grabbing one more slice just when you’re about to clock out.
Each turtle brings a different vibe to the fight: the long reach of Donatello feels almost too safe, while Mikey’s faster strikes keep you scrambling to stay alive. And yeah, splitting time with a buddy definitely changes your strategy—one of you might hang back to pick off incoming bad guys, while the other dives right into a crowd. You can juggle enemies in the air, bounce them off platforms, or even use breakable objects to your advantage. It’s hectic, it’s noisy, and it’s oddly precise once you get the timing down.
Some of the later stages are infamously brutal, with bosses that punish every missed button press. You’ve got to learn patterns—when that giant flying robot swoops in, you dodge a few hits, bop it on the nose, and then get out before it does a laser sweep. Even Shredder at the end is less of a one-and-done showdown and more of a “stay on your toes or face a quick Game Over.” Continues are in limited supply, so every life really matters.
Looking back, it’s that blend of flailing mayhem and carefully timed strikes that keeps me coming back. There’s a simple charm in every clang of metal, every pizza slice you snag, and every “Cowabunga!”-style moment when you finally clear a stage. Raise your controller (or whatever you’re using these days) and you’ll swear the theme music is playing in your head again.