Nostalgia's a funny thing. Altered Beast was the Genesis's pack-in game, and its minimalist opening - "Rise from your grave!" - has achieved a sort of memetic half-life. It's reasonably popular among Sega fans, or so I'm told, which may explain the inflated price that's been stuck on the thing.
Nostalgia has played you wrong. This is not merely an old classic that has aged poorly, or which suffers by comparison with later titles, as is the case with so many Virtual Console games.
Altered Beast is, in fact, forged from pure bullshit, and to play it is to know sheer hatred. I am operating on the theory that you are not a hero, called back into duty by Zeus to pursue an epic quest. In fact, you are a damned soul, forced by the weight of your past sins to go up against armies of demons and nightmares with nothing more than your fists. You will die. You will die many times, helpless to prevent it, and the moments when you have the power to compete on a level playing field - when you are able to get three orbs and transform into a new, more powerful animal form - are fleeting.
You will be knocked down pits; you will suffer from the game being essentially unplayable on a standard Wiimote, with only two face buttons in a comfortably accessible place; you will slap the B button like an unpaid pimp, adding credit after credit to your account as the game does its best to extort every last fictional quarter it can. Altered Beast is trying to mug you for your pocket change. It is a postmodern, electronic, occasionally startlingly homoerotic myth of Sisyphus, and I could no more recommend it as a recreational activity than I would getting a brick shot to the chops.

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