Growing up, I started gaming on the NES, like most people of the nineties. Then, I graduated to the Sega Mega Drive. From both of these machines, Mario and Sonic became staples of my fascination with gaming. The colours, the level design, the unending, unflinching desire to end my enemies by way of a swift jump to the head. They still get me excited, and I still regularly play and complete them for a relaxing evening. But one character was MY platforming hero. He was MY character, and one that was part of MY generation of ‘gamers’. I speak of course, of Crash Bandicoot.
Growing up in a house with 3 older siblings, while I enjoyed the classics with them, and still do from time to time, it was also important that I have my own games that are my own little world to feel out and explore. Crash was that little world. He was the gaming icon that represented the new-age, making his début in 3D and showing off the power of the Playstation in a way that was truly incomparable at the time, at least to these infant eyes. And although I missed the boat on his first outing, it was his second that was truly something that spellbinded me. And infuriated me beyond measure.
Crash Bandicoot 2: Cortex Strikes Back was released in 1997, and I still remember the day I rented it from my local Xtra-Vision for a weekend. It was incredible. The ‘story’ was a simple but suitable one for a young mind, with its dissonant level themes and cartoon-ish monologues that carried it forward. The array of characters felt large, and their environments felt real, and threatening. The swamps would eat me alive if I put a foot wrong, and I’d be a fried marsupial if I dared jump beyond my grasp in the sci-fi levels. When I was the main-world hub, I was entranced by the little details on the entrance to each level to leave my safe nest and go forth in the wild. It was, and remains, a very beautiful, fun game.
But this isn’t about that. No, this is about those things that headed each zone. Those bosses. 
Unlike Mario and Sonic, Crash faced five different bosses each game, though the fifth was always Cortex, as a trophy for beating his minions. Crash 2’s boss design always intrigued me, as it was an exercise in versatility in platforming, but still restrained by not being quite sure what could be done with this superfluous third dimension we no had access to. First up, the rabid insane-asylum escapee, Ripper Roo.
Ripper’s fight is a fun mini-game of avoiding the explosive squares. Every-time he jumps on a square, that makes it nitro, and every third time, it becomes TNT. Every third time, you have to make sure he lands on one of the squares in order for it to explode on him so you can hit him. Its not altogether the most difficult process, but for a first boss, it does its job incredibly well. Mildly challenging, while also allowing the player to get a feel for the simple mechanics under pressure while still having fun. Its a test run, and a very functional one at that.
The second boss, Komodo Brothers, is where things get difficult. In their eastern aesthetic, the brothers utilize their swords to offer a more closed-in, difficult threat for our Bandicoot. The first attack is essentially a spinning top. 
A very very sharp spinning top, that you have to wait out, in order to attack the now dazed brother. Then, they throw swords at the wall, which you have to avoid in order to attack once again. Its the closed-in, almost claustrophobic feel to this boss that presents the challenge, and removes much of the freedom you had up until then. As a second boss, it works to introduce how you’ll be facing your next challenges.
Tiny Tiger. Tiny. Bloody. Tiger. My first gaming tantrum, as a chubby wee gamer, was to the fight with Tiny Tiger in this game. 
It was infuriating, and to this day still gets me on edge.
It’s a caged platforming affair, with platforms that disappear and re-appear in a pattern. While you’re being chased by the big Tiger. There’s nine of these platforms, and between out-running him and making sure you can make each jump, it truly tests your mettle. It may not sound like much, but this is the difficulty peak of the game, and where you’ll most likely lose a good portion of your lives to that point. The virtual hop-scotch that occurs when you work out the pattern and crack it is incredible, but man. MAN. It takes a while.
After Tiny, things get a little mental as you face N. Gin, my favourite character of the franchise, while he’s in a giant mech suit. You heard me. You face a giant robot. Because why not. The fight is your standard jump to avoid obstacles routine…. Until you realize you can shoot wumpa fruit at him. So basically, you kill a giant mech by avoiding its attacks and shooting fruit at it until it dies. Its a gloriously fun fight, and a serious relief after the stress of Tiny’s antics.
And then there’s the last boss. The coup de grace. The mighty Neo Cortex. I say mighty, the fight isn’t really a fight, and any 90’s fiend will recognize the fight as something else. Something that’s an obvious influence to Crash Bandicoot…. Any guesses… No? Oh right, its an article and I can’t hear you. Earthworm Jim! Jim’s fights with Psycrow are always preluded with a jet race, and your final encounter with Cortex is the exact same. It gives a very ethereal end to the game, and isn’t all that difficult. Simple obstacle course in a head-to-head battle with the yellow-headed one. It’s that simple, but as I say, it gives a very poetic, almost peaceful end, and grants a simple come down from the action of the game.
And once he’s defeated you can do your victory dance because not only did you beat Cortex but you also beat Tiny Tiger is his big stupid head. Ahem.
Crash Bandicoot 2 wouldn’t win any awards by today’s standards, but it remains a fun jaunt into pure platforming territory and its bosses are still some of the funnest designs in games for my money. And its available on PSN now!
