Crillion '97

Crillion '97 — a title that probably nobody would have noticed if it didn't masquerade as something between an arcade shooter and strategy. It's one of those games that slipped through the cracks of the nineties alongside a thousand others, grabbed by someone in a megastore for pocket change as a last-minute pick.

It plays like a straightforward 2D shooter with tower-defense elements. You control some unit, blast away at waves of enemies, collect power-ups, and try to survive. The graphics are rough — plasticky pixels that already looked dated even back in 1997. The music clicks and clacks faithfully on the sound chip, the kind you remember from obscure shareware games that ate up your time in computer class. The controls are sluggish, the camera jitters, and you can never quite tell if that's intentional or just the state of the game.

Short levels, simple game loops — shoot, keep shooting or lose. No gimmicks, no fancy tricks. The game feels like a project from someone who said: I'll make an arcade game without overthinking it. Which isn't actually bad, but it's not particularly good either. Four or five levels and you're done.

Today Crillion '97 is archaeology rather than entertainment. It wasn't iconic like Doom or Raptor — more of a punching bag among the big hitters. But that's exactly what makes it compelling — it's a nameless time capsule you can crack open and say to yourself: yeah, this is how you made shooters when you didn't really have a grand vision.

If you're in the mood for a retro shooter with no pretensions and can fire it up in your browser, it's a half-hour diversion that won't hurt. You won't replay it, you won't love it, but you'll know it — and really, that's all a nineties indie arcade deserves.