A RETROSPECT ON EPILEPSY
Ultratron is Puppy Games’ modern-day reimagining of Robotron: 2084, a classic arcade machine from 1982. It remains fiercely loyal to its roots, presenting retro-styled sprites against a dark backdrop, accompanied by piercing chiptune effects, flashing colors, and a relentlessly frantic pace. Judging by screenshots alone, it even seems to emulate the blur and rounded edges of an old CRT display.
Ultratron appears intent on capturing the spirit of arcade halls: lingering in dimly lit rooms, feeding coins into merciless machines designed to outlast their players. I can only imagine the allure. Those rituals belong to a generation just before mine. Back then, “grinding” meant improving yourself—playing the same cabinet over and over until your initials sat proudly atop the high-score table.
For those unfamiliar with Robotron, the concept is simple: a top-down, twin-stick arena shooter confined to a single screen. One stick governs movement, the other aiming and firing. In Ultratron, you control a cyborg—where you were human in the original (a difference of monumental importance, I wager). Waves of hostile robots materialize and converge on you. Some fire projectiles, some deploy mines, and some simply absorb far more punishment than others.
Occasionally, a small, harmless droid zips across the screen. Destroying it grants a powerful, time-limited upgrade that briefly tips the odds in your favor. Clear the final wave, and you advance to the next level. There is no true ending—only an ever-increasing difficulty curve that continues until you finally give in. It is easy to pick up, and just as easy to put down.
Naturally, Ultratron feels well suited to modern consoles. Dual analog sticks allow for precise movement and aiming, and the remake introduces a currency system: defeated enemies drop coins, which can be spent on upgrades between stages. These enhancements can bolster your weapons, deploy AI-controlled drones, or improve mobility. It is a welcome addition that allows for some variation in playstyle, though with only one life to your name, the question often becomes whether shields are simply the safer investment.
The game mercifully provides a checkpoint after each defeated boss. Dying during any of the ten stages that follow sends you back to that point. This only happened to me once. I still cannot quite explain what I did wrong in that moment—just as I cannot explain how I survived both before and after it.
Ultratron is neither about careful strategy nor lightning-fast reflexes. Instead, it hinges on discovering a movement pattern that minimizes risk. Anyone seeking advice is unlikely to find anything more useful than “kill all enemies and don’t get hit,” or the evergreen “git gud.” Ultimately, success feels less earned than stumbled upon. You simply try to stay lucky.
Be warned: Ultratron is an epilepsy warning turned up to eleven. The screen is in a constant state of sensory overload, bombarding the player with flashes, explosions, and overlapping sound effects. Enemy fire often becomes indistinguishable from your own barrage. I struggle to imagine the visual chaos of the two-player co-op mode. That I survived so effortlessly, despite this visual noise, stands in stark contrast to the reputed brutality of the original—something I know only through secondhand reverence and YouTube footage.
The main reason I cannot bring myself to like Ultratron more, however, is that it ends far too quickly. My baseline for most games begins at a two-star “average” rating, from which they hopefully evolve. I completed the entire campaign in just over an hour, clearing all forty stages and all four bosses. “Humanity avenged,” the game declared.
I pressed on for another ten stages into the endgame. The first boss returned—this time with an identical twin. A quick search revealed that this loop continues indefinitely, adding yet another twin with each cycle until you eventually perish. Armed with that knowledge, I simply quit. The experience was over almost as soon as it had begun, and it never rose above that initial baseline. Hence the score.
Writing about Ultratron feels like reviewing the Rock Around the Clock cover by Sex Pistols. I respect the cultural impact of Bill Haley’s original rock ’n’ roll classic (which itself was also a cover). I appreciate the stylistic abrasiveness added by the later version. But ultimately, neither speaks to me. They simply are not my kind of jazz.
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