Depending on who you ask, Banjo-Kazooie: Nuts & Bolts is either an abomination or an OK game. But is the game really that bad? Did it really deserve all the vitriol because Nuts & Bolts replaced what should’ve been Banjo-Threeie?
After 16 years, I figured the landscape had calmed down enough to examine this game and see if it was worth the hate, indifference, or adoration.
Brace!
Admittedly, starting this game and seeing the iconic duo stirs certain feelings and expectations. I mean, it’s Banjo and Kazooie out and about again – what could go wrong?
Expecting something to go wrong or having any specific expectations at all is unfair. The first rule of playing Nuts & Bolts is not to treat it like a typical Banjo game—a collect-a-thon. Nuts & Bolts is a vehicle builder, first and foremost; the sooner you can get used to that fact, the better.
Once you get used to the game’s tonal shift, bits and pieces of what made the Banjo-Kazooie world so lovable and charming start to shine through. Hearing everyone’s signature grunts instead of speech is always a great time, and the soundtrack is still heavenly. Areas are still beautiful and lively, and it’s nice to see familiar faces from previous games as you explore.
Humor is still present, too, and there are plenty of fourth-wall-breaking instances throughout the game. Gruntilda’s rhymes occasionally grace us with their presence, and they’re always a joy to read.
It’s almost as if we’re playing a Banjo-Kazooie game, after all!
It’s time for vehicular mayhem
It won’t take you long to take control of a vehicle, and shortly after, you’ll be tasked with building one. Your collectibles are scattered throughout missions, all requiring certain vehicle types to complete.
Most missions allow you to build your own vehicle, though some don’t. Unsurprisingly, missions where you use your designs flow better because you have complete control over your vehicle’s handling. If it doesn’t work, you can just go back to the drawing board and try again.
Nuts & Bolts’ vehicle-building aspect is surprisingly fun. You can channel your inner engineer and design the most efficient vehicle, or be silly and create a massive block that somehow still does the job. And you don’t have to stick to just one vehicle, either—you can make one for each mission, one of each vehicle type, or make one machine that’s so efficient it can do everything at once.
You have to be reasonable, though. You have limits to consider, such as weight and fuel consumption. You can’t just make an amphibious tank and expect it to take to the skies with two small propellers.
Always read the fine print
As you may have noticed, the sky’s the limit when it comes to building vehicles. Well, that and any vehicle parts you’ve obtained and unlocked. You earn everything progressively, so don’t expect to start the game with access to large jets immediately.
However, earning these parts can be tedious, too. If you’re not good at designing things or have a self-imposed limit of only using the vehicles provided to you, everything will be more challenging. You’re at the mercy of the default creations, so you can’t deal with any handling or balancing issues. You won’t get the satisfaction of creating a vehicle that can fulfill the mission on your terms.
Unlocking parts can be quite a bit of work, too. It’s almost as if Rare took the collect-a-thon formula of the other Banjo titles and took it a step further—by injecting it into a fetch quest/mission mechanic. At its core, the gameplay distills down to:
Do a mission for an NPC, win jiggies, do more missions
Granted, you have plenty to do, and you’ll likely never tire of your surroundings (Logbox 720 is always a classic). It’s just a matter of pacing yourself so you don’t get tired of the repetition and don’t get frustrated too much when figuring out your vehicle.
Speaking of handling, Rare has done a great job of implementing physics in the game. Don’t expect Kerbal Space Program-like physics in a game this old, but it works well enough. It’s responsive and accurate enough to frustrate you or do what’s needed. After all, who doesn’t want a wide platform lifted into the air by balloons and propellers? It might not be practical in real life, but gosh darn it, this is Nuts & Bolts.
There used to be a multiplayer section, too, but that’s useless nowadays. It was undoubtedly fun back in the day to prove how good (or bad) your vehicle was compared to others or simply to show off your masterpiece. Today, it’s just a reminder that players (probably) had fun with their custom-made vehicles online.
So, is it a bad Banjo-Kazooie game?
You don’t need to spend much time in Nuts & Bolts to realize it’s not trying to be any of its two predecessors. The game’s intro makes no qualms about this; it presents Banjo as a fat, inactive bear who has eaten too many pizzas and can’t even take a few steps without wheezing. How are you supposed to collect stuff on foot in that state?
Instead, Nuts & Bolts tells you that you’re now in a different territory dominated by modular vehicles. Sure, everyone’s still there, but they’re likely doing something else now. The scene has changed after all those years, and this game wants you to accept that Nuts & Bolts is not a Banjo-Kazooie game as you know it.
Once you get out of the Banjo-Kazooie mindset, it becomes easier to admit that Nuts & Bolts isn’t as bad of a game as some people make it out to be. The vehicle-building mechanic can be fun, though that depends on how you design your vehicles. There’s plenty of satisfaction to be had in seeing your creation work (or fail) spectacularly. The music is excellent, and the worlds are fun to explore. And although the mission-based gameplay can feel tedious and repetitive sometimes, there’s nothing a small break from the game can’t improve.
Nuts & Bolts isn’t a bad game in itself. It’s just not a Banjo-Kazooie game.
