There’s something about digging through old game collections that reminds me of sorting through salvage on job sites. Most of what you find is exactly what you’d expect – the usual suspects, the stuff everyone’s seen a thousand times. But every now and then, your hand closes around something that makes you stop and wonder how the hell it ended up buried under all that common junk. That’s what happened when I was going through a box of Genesis cartridges my buddy Rick picked up at an estate sale last month.
Sitting there between the predictable copies of Sonic and Streets of Rage was this cartridge called Soleil. Never heard of it before, which isn’t saying much considering I missed the entire 16-bit era when it was actually happening. But the art on the label caught my attention – some anime-looking kid with spiky hair wielding a sword that was probably bigger than he was. Floating castle in the background, all that fantasy RPG stuff that usually makes me roll my eyes. But something about it looked… different. Can’t explain why.
Turns out Soleil came out in 1992 from a company called Renovation, and it barely made a ripple outside of Japan. Which is a shame because this game does something I’ve never seen before or since, and I’ve been playing catch-up on gaming history for over a decade now. It starts off looking like every other fantasy RPG you’ve ever seen – you’re this young knight, your father’s off fighting monsters, time to pick up the family sword and go be a hero. Standard stuff that had me thinking I’d found another generic adventure game.
Then about twenty minutes in, the whole thing flips upside down in a way that made me actually pause the game and stare at the screen. You lose the ability to talk to humans. Completely. But you gain the ability to communicate with animals and monsters instead. And when you start hearing their side of the story… well, let’s just say the humans weren’t exactly telling you the truth about who the real villains were.
I’m not kidding when I say this messed with my head for a solid ten minutes. Here I was, having spent the opening section happily cutting down these creatures, thinking I was the good guy doing hero stuff. Then suddenly one of these monsters I’d been killing is having an actual conversation with me, explaining why they were just trying to protect their homes from human invaders. Talk about your moral whiplash.
The gameplay itself is this weird hybrid that shouldn’t work but absolutely does. It’s got that overhead view like Zelda, but the combat feels more immediate and action-oriented than your typical RPG grinding. You’re not just mashing the attack button either – enemies have patterns, tells, weak spots. Learning to read them becomes this rhythm where timing matters more than just having better stats. Reminds me of learning to operate new equipment on construction sites – you can’t just muscle your way through, you have to understand how the thing actually works.
What really sets Soleil apart is the animal companion system. Instead of finding power-ups or learning magic spells, you’re befriending these creatures that each bring unique abilities. There’s a penguin that lets you slide across ice patches, a bird that acts like a boomerang for ranged attacks, a mole for digging through certain walls. Each companion changes how you approach problems, and the level design actually takes advantage of this instead of just throwing it in as an afterthought.
I spent probably an hour stuck at this one water section, trying every conventional approach I could think of, before realizing I needed to use the dolphin companion I’d picked up three areas back. Wasn’t because the game was broken or poorly designed – I was just thinking like this was a standard action game where you push forward until something gives way. Soleil forces you to think creatively, to actually use your tools instead of just collecting them.
The visual style holds up remarkably well too. There’s this chunky, colorful sprite work that has actual personality to it. Characters move with expression, environments feel lived-in rather than just being backdrops for combat. The castle sequences especially have this Gothic atmosphere that shouldn’t mesh with the cartoon-style characters, but somehow it all works together. The sound design is equally impressive – that YM2612 sound chip doing things that seem impossible, creating this orchestral sound that had me checking to make sure I hadn’t accidentally switched to a CD system.
Rick mentioned he’d bounced off this game hard when he was a kid, never made it past the first couple hours. Makes perfect sense when you think about it. This isn’t a game that reveals what it’s actually about right away. It takes patience, willingness to experiment, maybe even starting over once you understand what it’s trying to do. If you’re a kid expecting Sonic-speed action or Streets of Rage button-mashing, Soleil probably feels slow and confusing.
But coming at it as an adult who’s played everything from puzzle-heavy Zelda games to methodical Dark Souls combat, all these systems suddenly click into place. The way animal abilities combine with each other, how the story doesn’t just surprise you with plot twists but actually makes you reconsider your entire role in the world – it’s sophisticated design wrapped up in a package that looks like Saturday morning cartoon material.
Playing through it now, I keep thinking about all the Genesis games that got huge marketing budgets and magazine covers while this thing sat in bargain bins. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy Sonic and Golden Axe as much as anyone, but Soleil was experimenting with ideas that wouldn’t become common until years later. Environmental storytelling, morally complex narratives, gameplay mechanics that actually support the themes instead of just existing alongside them.
There’s this moment late in the game – won’t spoil it for you – where everything you thought you understood about the world gets completely turned around. And it’s not just narrative surprise for the sake of being clever; all those gameplay mechanics you’ve been learning suddenly make perfect thematic sense. The animal communication, the way combat works, even how your character develops – it all supports this revelation in a way that gave me actual chills.
The whole experience reminded me why I got into retro gaming in the first place. It’s not just about nostalgia or collecting – it’s about finding these gems that took risks, tried new things, pushed boundaries in ways that modern games often don’t dare to. Soleil could have been just another generic fantasy adventure, but instead it became this meditation on perspective, on questioning who gets to decide who the heroes and villains are.
If you can track down a copy – and fair warning, the American release called “Crusader of Centy” will cost you serious money – this game deserves your attention. Not as some curiosity or retro oddity, but as a genuinely innovative action-RPG that was ahead of its time in ways that still feel fresh today. Just don’t expect it to hold your hand or give you instant gratification. This one rewards patience and curiosity over quick reflexes and grinding levels.
Sometimes the games that get forgotten are exactly the ones worth remembering most.
Timothy discovered retro gaming at forty and never looked back. A construction foreman by day and collector by night, he writes from a fresh, nostalgia-free angle—exploring classic games with adult curiosity, honest takes, and zero childhood bias.
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