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It's all utterly ridiculous, of course, a relic of a games-making era long gone, where sandwich boards and sandbags can be busted apart to reveal health-restoring roast chickens, because… that's just how games were, in the early 1990s. Fire-breathing fatsos called Big-Ben and Balloon represent real threats to your progress here, more so than fit young things bearing steel pipes and blades (although they're not at the same headache-inducing level of severity as the Blanka-crossed-with-Vega level-end bosses Zamza and Souther, who greedily gobble up the extra lives I've picked up prior to encountering them). The story is so basic as to be non-existent, too, simply: the bad man that you beat in the last game is back, he's taken your mate, so go and rescue him. Still, at least we're saving a dude for once, right? The overall end boss is a bit of a dud, too, Mr X's machine gun his only means of attack, and you can easily enough nip behind his cigar-puffing face and forcefully introduce it to his penthouse's ever-so-plush carpet.And yet it's all so compelling. I finish the 3DS version and immediately start another game, getting to the first level climax with brawling barman Barbon before realizing I should probably do some "proper work," like write about Streets of Rage 2. Which is still, 100 percent, after two complete plays inside 24 hours, my favorite game of all time. I don't know what objectively makes a classic, but I know in my heart that this gem amongst so many SEGA greats is one, for me.On Noisey: How Video Games, Electronic Music and Hip-Hop Intersect
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