Most NES-Era Games Don't Hold Up, But 'Disney Afternoon' Does

Everyone writing about The Disney Afternoon Collection is probably going to talk a little bit about nostalgia—about idyllic childhood afternoons in the late 80s and early 90s, sitting with an after-school snack watching the Rescue Rangers solve a case, or singing along to the Ducktales theme song. Of playing the colorful, sometimes surprisingly excellent late NES-era games based on the shows as the afternoon light wanes.

That's fair enough! The package is definitely selling itself on nostalgia—with very 90s wrapping on everything, six beloved NES games based on beloved TV series that ran in that hallowed Disney Afternoon block, cartoons about heroic waterfowl and forest critters who solved crimes, went on adventures, had cool friends, and instilled Disney-approved values in young'ns. Myself included.

But what I really want to tell you about is how well these games actually hold up, and about how one very smart design decision—the inclusion of a magical rewind button—makes them accessible to everyone playing them right now.

In the era we're talking about here, practically every cartoon mascot had a 2D platformer. Some of these games were excellent, most were middling, and some were awful—the usual spread in any popular genre, at any time. But the Disney Capcom games were often fantastic.

Some, like the Ducktales games included on this compilation, took the design ethos of the Mega Man series and adapted it into a slightly gentler format, with creative, inspired level design, some light adventure elements, and the ability to tackle levels in any order, so long as you defeated the stage boss at the end.

There are hidden secrets all over the place, encouraging exploration and curiosity. The Transylvania stage has hidden rooms and mirrors for audacious players to find. There's an entire optional cave in the Amazon world, full of giant spiders (and treasure). And a weird little Hockey guy named Bubba frozen in a block of ice in a forgotten corner of the frozen Himalaya world, who clears a bunch of gems for you if you rescue him.

The gameplay has just enough variety to keep things interesting, with layouts that never linger too long on any one type of traversal. The Himalaya level requires different types of movement to get around on each surface—Scrooge's signature pogo jump is useless on the snow, he's slippery on the ice—the Mines have jumping puzzles and a runaway minecart, the Amazon stage has vines to jump between.

There's a wonderful sense of flow to the entire game—you're never doing the same thing for too long, Scrooge feels responsive, and it's a pleasure to move and work your way through these (very pretty, and pretty-sounding) environments. It feels like going on an adventure with a bunch of your favorite cartoon buddies.

The sequel—also in the compilation—added to all of this with a few choice mechanics, like an ability to "hook" switches with your stick, and it expanded on the very light adventure elements—finding a key item like a hammer that allows you to reach new areas in different stages.

The first Ducktales game is maybe the first game I ever actually beat (I was five!) and going through again, almost thirty years later, I still remember where all the secrets are. It still feels right in my hands. But better than all that, when I failed to remember the exact timing for say, the weirdo frog guys jumping out of the mines, I was able to hit the left trigger and rewind the action.

It's works the same way as it does in a modern racing game: you hold the trigger for as long as you'd like and the game (amusingly, along with music and sound effects) runs backwards until you take your finger off. So, you can decide to re-do a fatal jump, or hold it further back and correct the whole screen before it.

That rewind functionality exists across the entire collection, and it's a godsend. I didn't play much Chip and Dales Rescue Rangers (or its included sequel) back in the day, but I was able to enjoy hours with it thanks to that handy rewind button for all of my grievous mistakes. I adored the Darkwing Duck cartoon as a kid, but never played the game until now—and its stickier platforming, based on hanging off of level geometry and jumping down as often as you jump up—does have a learning curve. I ended up loving the game, with that different mechanical approach, instead of shutting the game down in frustration after half an hour, thanks to that magic button.

I'm sure purists and speedrunners will scoff, but it's a really bright way to make a game made with NES-era expectations about difficulty easy to jump into. And, of course, you can ignore it if you'd rather play straight. You know, if you want to remember the time you lost all your lives on a boss and had to start over again, with an 8-year-old's sense of justice about the world.

There are also extras worth perusing—boss rush and time attack modes, and a museum section full of concept art and details about the making of the games. That's the kind of thing I get excited about, particularly from an era when technical constraints meant getting very creative with your sprite art and animation.

I'm just happy to play this style of game again, with this level of fidelity. These games were beautiful, well-designed, polished experiences that are worth far more than their weight in nostalgia value.