One of the reasons I adore N64-gen Rare so much is because they loved testing the boundaries. What could they get away with in a cheeky, charming 3D platformer? Banjo-Kazooie was already dipping its toe in the water in a few subtle (and less-subtle) ways. “How’s your nuts, bark breath?” is funny, but perhaps funnier with that adult context. And the 1998 platformer was more than ready to get a little bit scary – did anyone else freak out the first time they saw Clanker? No?
But Banjo-Tooie pushes things to a whole new level. It rips the band-aid off and tosses it off of a steep cliff into the volcano of Hailfire Peaks, almost with complete disregard for what came before it. Rare is unafraid to tell you that this is a very different game tonally from the first. In fact, growing up, it was one of the scariest games I’d played. I still feel that way 25 years later. And I love it, warts and all, for that reason.
I should’ve known immediately something was different. While Banjo-Kazooie got a chirpy, cheerful intro song with the cast all playing the main theme together, Tooie just gets a slower, lower-pitch version playing as a camera pans over the abandoned Gruntilda’s Lair. Rare could’ve brought Grunty back as the green same, except she’s a walking skeleton.
Oh, and just 20 minutes into the game, Grunty has murdered Bottles the mole by burning him to a crisp and turned King Jingaling into a zombie, who groans and attacks Banjo on sight. I stupidly left Banjo waiting inside the zombified throne room one time and remember hearing the king’s moaning as it pecked Banjo and Kazooie to death. I was but a simple eight-year-old, I didn’t expect previously friendly NPCs to be hostile, even if they were a walking corpse!
So much about Banjo-Tooie is bleak and disturbing, but the intro and the first few sections of the Isle O’ Hags really set the tone; the abandoned Jinjo Village where the HAG-1 tracks has ploughed right through one of the houses, is harrowing the first time you walk through it, made worse by the cheerful music. Walking into Bottles’ house and hiding the fact the patriarch of the family has passed away made me feel sick.
Things don’t get any better when you start to explore any of the worlds, either. Mayahem Temple might be one of the gentler worlds on the nightmare fuel front, but something about Ssslumber the Snake always made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Maybe it’s because I had to do that darn sneaking section at least a dozen times, but those teeth are a little too big for my liking. And the Snapdragons that chomp at you while you’re gripping onto a ledge? No thank you.
Glitter Gulch Mine is where things start to ramp up again. If the toxic gas room where Banjo and Kazooie can choke to death isn’t enough (seriously, what is up with N64 drowning animations?), then how about the pitch-black generator room or the Power Hut where one wrong step means a fall to your death?
The level variety is much darker than it ever was in the original; sunny beaches are now replaced with a sprawling lagoon where terrifying sea creatures lurk deep underwater. There’s no room for swamps and crocodiles here, as giant lizards and amphibians roam the lands of Terrydactyland. And even though Rusty Bucket Bay might fill my heart with fear, the oil-slicked waters have nothing on Grunty Industries’ sprawling maze of a building, with abandoned electrics, dangerous traps, and a sentient welding torch that drags itself through a duct like a snake, with gnashing teeth to boot.
I have no idea who designed the bosses in Banjo-Tooie [Ah, do I have an article for you! – Ed.], but hats off to you – almost all of them have some shudder-worthing component to them. Targitzan’s jewelled eyes mean the gigantic statue remains unblinking. Mingy Jongo is a complete rug-pull, tricking you into thinking he’s Mumbo Jumbo before attacking you mid-cutscene, with the encounter acting as a big T-800 reference.
The freakiest to me, besides pitting Banjo and Kazooie up against a gigantic drill at the end of the game, is Mr. Patch, the inflatable dinosaur in Witchyworld. Again, who decides to give the blow-up dino blow-up teeth? This should be a fairly innocent ‘creature’, but the combination of the huge, empty big top, the weird sneezing noise and hissing, and the difficulty of controlling and aiming Kazooie’s eggs while flying, has always made my palms sweaty.
In fact, Witchworld itself really seems to understand what kids are afraid of. Theme parks are meant to be fun, but clowns, crowds, and loud noises also come part and parcel with these places. These are three things I didn’t like when I was younger. So, throw me into an abandoned theme park and I’m instantly going to be unnerved.
It’s probably my favourite world in the game as a result; the music has echoes of delight, but is empty and haunting. The skies are blood red, and the fences around the park rusted; the food is gross, and the employees tired, grumpy, and rude. It’s the antithesis of a fun fair. Even the mascots attack you!
The thing is, a lot of these scares were projected in Banjo-Kazooie, but it was much gentler about creeping you out (for the most part – I don’t think I’ll ever stay calm when I touch the water in Treasure Trove Cove and Snacker starts chasing me). Tooie just leans into more of those adult tendencies, barely getting away with some of the more lewd stuff in most cases.
But as funny as Tooie is, and as messy as it can be as a sequel, it’s those creepy moments that have stuck with me for the past quarter of a century. Running from Stomponadon as he tries to squash the bear and bird is heart-pounding, and the first time I ran into a Minjo I panicked.
Essentially, if Banjo-Kazooie is a cheeky little kid testing the boundaries, Banjo-Tooie is the messy teenager ready to prank and scare you around every corner. Sometimes, it’s pure nightmare fuel. But I wouldn’t change it for the world.
Do you think Banjo-Tooie is a little bit frightening 25 years on? Let us know in the comments.
