â‹™ I had the luxury, at four years old, of living with an unemployed uncle who spent his days playing soccer with his friends every evening at six, fucking his girlfriend at night in the dark of his bedroom, and burning his eyes every weekend on videogames.
I tend to remember many digital places and symbols from my childhood: the terrifying continue screen from Mortal Kombat 4. The alien atmosphere of Jet Force Gemini. Nemesis chasing Jill. I vividly remember getting stuck in the Gorilla Glacier levels, frustrated yet impossibly hooked, and I will never forget how afraid I was of the Rockkrocs in Stop & Go Station.
Every time I boot up Donkey Kong Country, I’m flooded with that same sense of discovery, despite knowing it inside and out on a practical level.
Every time Donkey Kong Country starts, I remember Christmas.
⋙ It’s comforting to see these iterations of real-world places prerendered, with beautiful sunsets, shimmering blue crystals, and warm lights in the distance. But it’s also unsettling, as if these places lack a physical ending. Kong’s tropical island floating in a limitless ocean, the mines forming a visible cacophony of wooden beams, the deep sea repeating itself oppressively. It’s visually striking, but… also inexplicably stuck, even by the standards of its time—a quality that’s hard to pin down in words without resorting to saying “liminal.” The whole ecological warfare thing (Kremrock Industries literally poisoning nature, like that greenish lake THAT MANY SAY IS THE WORST LEVEL AND I DISAGREE) adds to the visual drama.
⋙ The best struggle lies in its gameplay being that of a 2D platformer: a mechanical realm with simple tools—jumping and running. As the levels progress, you’re required to play more aggressively: faster, sharper, more attuned to the aerodynamic combo between Donkey and Diddy. It rewards memory, but not just the obviously visual kind; it wants you to become one with the controller, developing meditative muscle and surpassing a skill ceiling that suddenly feels like… entering a zen state of doing everything perfectly. Mastering jump cancels, rolling constantly, finding new leaps, using Donkey like a feather—these are the values that Donkey Kong Country excels at. DKC2, as much as I like it, doesn’t reach the same gameplay peaks; it goes its own way.
⋙ Now, even though it contains stellar levels, I can safely say the bosses are inexplicably rudimentary and the final world is rather exhausting. Its gimmicks push the franchise’s skill ceiling to the limit, but at the same time they’re uninteresting due to the reuse of so many assets. On top of that, it’s a strangely disconnected place within the DKC world. What’s the point of that particular cave? Definitely a case of running out of time.
⋙ The Christmas thing is true…
It’s a ritual I started years ago, long before I knew Vinny from Vinesauce did something similar. It’s a deeply comforting act. I played DKC with my mom, alongside my dad and cousins, showing it to classmates and long-time friends. With a glass of colemono, companions I’ve met along the way, and a room filled with the smell of fruit bread and the plastic of tree decorations. Whether on the original hardware, emulated on PC, or through the Nintendo Switch.
⋙ But this particular Christmas, I didn’t do it.
It was… strange. I definitely felt like something was missing.
It doesn’t matter.
You’re always there.
When the time comes to give love and affection, I give something dear to those who matter most. And I give a share of that to Donkey Kong Country.
It’s like… an old friend. Time isn’t an issue between us. Every time it comes back, we have exactly the same conversation. And I love that repetition. I wouldn’t want it any other way.
OLIVE
(AESTHETIC â•â• // INTEGRITY â•â• // DENSITY â•)
