![]() ![]() Gone too were the disgusting yet lovable pastel visuals of the stage itself, replaced with building blocks and a children’s bedroom as an inexplicable backdrop, despite it being called Toyland – i.e., a land of toys. With Toyland, he didn’t do the honourable thing and finesse what was already lovingly created he simply redid the entire song based on Toyland Part 2, a song which is predominantly played in the minor key, making it was all the more miserable. In a rare duff moment for someone I otherwise adore, Grant Kirkhope – a man part-responsible for the music of GoldenEye, Star Fox Adventures, Banjo-Tooie and much more – reimagined the entire Castle of Illusion soundtrack, but didn’t seem to do it any justice. In 2013, Castle of Illusion became one of the first games to get on board the full-remaster bandwagon, coming out on PS3, Xbox 360, PC and mobile. buying aforementioned Freddos for 10p – a separate investment that perpetuated the need for a soundtrack to get my fat arse up any street with a vague incline, bike or not. It also proved to be the perfect speed to walk to, particularly if I felt like I had purpose in my quest, e.g. It was the perfect pace to match with pedalling. Since that moment, I sang Toyland Part 1 every time I went up that hill, and didn’t even break a sweat. I got to the top without a rest for the first time in my life. I got to the bottom of the hill and, remembering Mickey’s epic climb up the colourful blocks, I set myself a target: sing the song in my head, and if I made it to the top by the time it looped round, I’d “win”. But after being kicked out of the house to “get some fresh air” by my mum mid- Castle of Illusion – and having just beaten the Toyland stage – I had Toyland Part 1 stuck in my head. I had a five-speed Apollo bike, and I simply couldn’t get it to the top without sticking my leg down for a breather, or outright walking my bike up. ![]() One thing I wasn’t so good at was climbing hills, which was shit, because I loved flying back down them. I developed off-road tracks on partially-abandoned building sites, knew when to hop my bike on the road that went round to the shop so I’d avoid hitting a foot-high kerb and cracking my head open (again), and which roads I could cycle on without my parents’ friends dobbing me into my parents again, for like the 12 th time that year. On my two-wheeled travels, I knew every turn, shortcut and angry resident who didn’t take well to my formative urbexing. It was a simpler time, when Freddos were 10p, the most popular comic book character of note was Dennis the Menace, and Jim Davidson was an inexplicable national treasure, even though people only watched Big Break for John Virgo’s trick shot. I was obsessed with going out on my bike, especially in the height of summer, when I’d do laps of my neighbourhood in north-east England under its positively balmy 8☌ July skies. Specifically, it used to run through my head when undertaking the greatest challenge that a young, overweight kid like me could face in the mid-90s. ![]() The reason that I know Toyland Part 1 is a classic isn’t because the tune was all that great – as I say, it’s quite plain, as far as 16-bit platformer songs go – is because it started to invade my non-gaming life. You were geed up and wanted to get to the top as quickly as possible, but you still felt there was enough time to kill enemies with your arse – something I still believe caused unimaginable trauma to Mickey’s ringpiece, especially when enemies included bats, bony fish and armoured knights with swords. The upbeat tempo of Toyland Part 1 wasn’t fast, but as Mickey simply sauntered through these dream worlds, the song didn’t need to be anything particularly quick. It was slow, occasionally unwieldy and frequently frustrating, but its art style was strong, its storyline was classic and its mechanics worked perfectly. It was released a year before Sonic the Hedgehog, and long before more refined Disney platform classics like Aladdin, The Lion King and The Jungle Book. It followed a standard Disney hero/villain trope: the evil witch Mizrabel kidnaps Minnie Mouse, and as Mickey, you have to go to the Castle of Illusion to get seven rainbow gems from seven largely different worlds and use them to build a rainbow bridge, before giving the old bird a damn good thrashing. However, its first-act song – Toyland Part 1 – will be positively carved into your eardrums, and if you’ve not heard it in a while, chances are you won’t get it out of your head if you hit play on the video above once again.Ĭastle of Illusion wasn’t the best game of its generation, but it certainly set the bar for what followed. If you played Castle of Illusion on the Mega Drive, you might still have the inimitably garish pinks, purples, greens and yellows of the Toyland level slightly burned into your retinas. ![]()
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