LJN destroys yet another beloved franchise.
DEVELOPER: Beam Software
RELEASE DATE: September 1989
Times are hard, guys. We’re in the middle of a recession; gas prices keep going up; and the best way businesses can think to further technology… is through cellphones. Yep, this is not the future we had all hoped for when we were kids, but hey! At least we can all have a little escapism with the power of Back to the Future for the NES! But wait… clock collecting in a suburban nightmare, while avoiding befuddled insects and thick-necked strongmen? Malt shops in the 1980’s? Ack! What kind of horrible alternate reality is this?
LJN and Beam Software did everything in their power to destroy whatever goodness “Back to the Future” contained. This game doesn’t make any sense, and that’s all folks. You play as Marty and you collect clocks. Make it through about four stages of clock-collecting madness and you enter a “bonus” round where you throw malts at Biff and Other Biff and Biff Again. If you lose a “bonus” round, you have to start at the previous stage. Unlike any other bonus round in any game ever, where if you “die” within it, you move on to the next stage, Beam asked themselves, “You know what would make this game even more terrible? Bonus rounds where you CAN’T advance!” Cue businessmen laughter, cigar smoke, and Satan collecting some contracts. I did not make it past the bonus stage, and I tried, oh Lord, I tried. It becomes painful repeating the same bland level over and over again before making it to the malt shop, only to have Biff Cubed throw you into the malt-shop door. I might reconsider if the levels prior to the malt shop were enjoyable. Much like Paperboy, the screen is constantly moving and you have to avoid the retarded throng of people that delight in throwing themselves at you, Master of Clocks: Future Destroyer Extraordinaire.
When I was young, I dreamed of cruising around in a Delorean through time. I dreamed of bringing my mom and my dad together so that they would have me in the future. I dreamed of hanging out with a crazy mad scientist; a man that, despite his madness, would become my best friend. Instead I received hundreds and hundreds of clocks. Spare yourself this trip to the clock store.