With Rayman Legends Retold looming on the horizon, I decided it was high time I tackled the original title, which had been gathering dust in my Steam library. Marking my maiden foray into Rayman (if you don't count the Netflix show where he snorts cocaine and eats sushi served over an antro cow lady), I plugged in my controller to ascertain whether the hype was justified, given the immense acclaim showered upon both Legends and Origins. My verdict is that Legends is indeed a splendid title... albeit not entirely without its flaws.
Legends, as I understand it, serves as a proper sequel to Origins, which famously restored Rayman to his side-scrolling roots following Ubisoft’s mascot dabbling in the 3D realm (a ubiquitous trend as technological capabilities advanced). Consequently, Legends represents a refined evolution of Origins, utilising its predecessor as a foundation and expanding upon its gameplay mechanics. Indeed, Legends even features an entire section of levels from the prior entry, titled "Back to Origins"—making it abundantly clear that this is the natural step forward.
The visual charm of the game is simply undeniable. Crafted using the UbiArt Framework, it is aesthetically sumptuous and teeming with delightful nuances. Nothing within the game feels static; everything exudes joy and vibrance. The stages are grouped into distinct worlds, each with its own thematic setting. Within every level reside the so-called "Teensies"—diminutive creatures tucked away that require rescuing to unlock further realms.
Thankfully, they aren't terribly difficult to locate; besides piping up with a faint "help me!" when you are nearby, I could read the environment shrewdly enough to spot hidden entrances where they—and other secrets—dwell. I rarely had to resort to walkthroughs, which is great. Certain Teensies—the kings and queens—present more of a challenge, situated in chambers requiring the completion of a puzzle, or a course. Rescuing these monarchs bestows a heart, permitting the player to withstand an additional hit.
Furthermore, there are the Lums, which unlock new heroes and secure trophies and scratchcards upon completing a stage. I applied myself diligently to attain the gold trophies, though the true reward lies in the scratchcards: upon scratching them, one gain prizes such as Lums, gallery monsters (which yield even more Lums), Teensies, and most crucially, the Origins levels—unlocked exclusively through these cards.
Regarding movement, the controls are remarkably sound, particularly underwater. While I am aware it has become a tired cliché that "underwater levels are bad," the fluid motion in all directions suited me fine. The snag, however, is that these levels were occasionally rather expansive, causing me to miss a few Teensies and forcing me to do them again. Other stages I thoroughly enjoyed were the flying levels, wherein you mount a mosquito and blast away at incoming foes—transforming the game into a rather top-tier shoot 'em up.
At some points, you command this little green creature who does little things in the nearby environment, such as moving platforms and cutting ropes. Interestingly, this is a mechanic made for the Wii U, meant to be done with touchscreen. But it was adapted for other consoles to the simple touch of a button. There's also this wizard sometimes that grants you projectiles, and sometimes I wondered why couldn't there be more moments with those.
One part I didn't really care so much about was the shrinking moments. At some points, you may come across tight spaces or flying horns that will turn you small. Your attack becomes a charge, and you walk over chains rather than sliding. The worst moment however is a level in which you're turned into a duck. That's right: a duck. Maybe the devs though it would be funny. I wasn't laughing, though.
The boss battles are hardly what one would call treacherous; you simply dodge their assaults until they reveal a vulnerability, offering a window to strike back. A few bosses prove slightly tricky, yet never to the point of vexation—this is certainly no Cuphead. There are also stages where you must pursue a treasure chest, and "invaded levels" that must traversed kickly before time runs out, causing the pace to become deliciously frantic.
Which brings me to what is perhaps the game's crown jewel: the musical levels.
In each world, there is a level requiring an unceasing sprint. One's movements are harmoniously synchronized with the soundtrack—another absolute triumph of the game. I must confess, it was rather embarrassing on my part to miss a leap and cause the music to falter, but at least you can resume close to where you left off... except in the final world, which consists of these musical levels rendered in "8-bit." Which is to say, visually chaotic and thoroughly wretched to complete. I was forced to consult a walkthrough to discern what was impeding my progress at certain junctures, as I simply could not spot the flies in my path through the visual noise.
The vast majority of levels were an absolute delight to finish, though a select few proved thoroughly exasperating. The food-themed world quite put me off my appetite: I felt the gameplay lost its fluidity, demanding far too precise jump timing. Then there were the ice levels, presenting precisely what you would anticipate: slippery platforms galore. As the disgraced JonTron once said, "oh, my favourite!" Yet the absolute nadir was a level in the Greek world that was, quite literally, a tedious maze.
The game features online capabilities that are regrettably defunct, given Ubisoft's decision to shutter the servers. Options for "weekly challenges" and "Kung Foot" linger on the menus, yet remain entirely inaccessible. Still, at very least the game itself remains playable—a courtesy notably denied to The Crew. As for the playable heroes, there are no discernible gameplay differences amongst them (at least none I observed), yet swapping characters offers a refreshing visual variety.
Ultimately, Legends is a stellar platformer, though perhaps hamstrung by its own ambition and scope, suffering from a handful of uninspired moments. I can only hope that Retold rectifies these minor shortcomings and delivers a truly sublime experience.
And, preferably, without Rayman doing coke.
