Tag: retrohandhelds

If you grew up watching Ultraman, you probably dreamed of controlling those giant laser-beaming, monster-smacking battles. And on the PS2 and PSP, you got that dream… kind of. What we actually got were games so rough, so clunky, so awkwardly hilarious that they loop right back around into being must-plays.

Let’s break it down.

Ultraman Fighting Evolution (PS2)

The promise? Kaiju wrestling in glorious 3D. The reality? Imagine two cosplayers in rubber suits trying to fight in slow motion while the cameraman spins in circles.

• Controls: Feels like Ultraman is fighting underwater while wearing concrete boots.
• Hit detection: Sometimes your punch connects across the arena. Sometimes it passes through like you’re a ghost. Flip a coin.
• Animations: Every throw and fall looks like a bad stunt double missed the crash mat.

But here’s why I love it: it’s authentic. Ultraman fights were never about fluid martial arts — they were about stiff moves, awkward grapples, and laser beams that may or may not hit. Fighting Evolution accidentally nailed that “rubber suit charm,” and I can’t stop grinning every time someone topples over like a cardboard prop.

Ultraman Fighting Evolution 3 (PS2)

This one? The “polished” sequel. Big story mode, more kaiju, better graphics. And yet, the soul of jank remains.

The cutscenes try so hard to be epic, but half the time I’m just laughing at Ultraman giving serious speeches while looking like a plastic action figure. The story mode is wild — one second you’re reliving iconic battles, the next you’re thrown into a monster mash with zero explanation.

Why I love it: this game is basically Ultraman fanfiction in video game form. It throws everything at you — drama, explosions, endless monster cameos — and I eat it up every single time. It’s the “Fast & Furious” of Ultraman games.

Ultraman Fighting Evolution Rebirth (PS2)

Now this one is the big one. Ultraman Fighting Evolution Rebirth (ウルトラマン Fighting Evolution Rebirth) takes everything the earlier games tried to do and pushes it further.

• Story mode: Packed with dramatic cutscenes that almost convince you you’re watching a real Ultraman episode… until the stiff animations snap you back.
• Gameplay: Still janky, still clumsy, still hilarious. But with more kaiju, more moves, and more finishers that look straight out of the TV show.
• Fan service: This is the game where the developers clearly wanted to give fans as much Ultraman content as possible, and it shows.

The only drawback? The colors are more subdued compared to earlier titles. It’s like the devs wanted to take things more seriously — darker tones, moodier palettes, less camp. But the moment you start a fight and deal with the bipolar AI or swing and miss at point-blank range, you’re reminded that at the end of the day, it’s still the same campy Ultraman game at heart, just with the brightness turned down.

Why I love it: out of all the PS2 Ultraman titles, Rebirth captures that “so bad it’s good” balance the best. It’s bigger, more ambitious, and somehow even funnier when it stumbles. Plus, the finished animations are much more cinematic — well, as cinematic as an Ultraman game could be. If you only play one PS2 Ultraman game, make it this one.

Ultraman 0 Portable (PSP)

The jump to handheld should’ve made things snappier, right? Nope. It’s the same awkward goodness, just shrunk down.

• The graphics try their best, but Ultraman looks like he’s made of shiny Play-Doh.
• The AI is unpredictable — sometimes it lets you win by standing still, other times it wipes the floor with you in seconds.
• The camera fights you harder than the kaiju.

Why I love it: because nothing beats blasting a kaiju with a Specium Ray while sitting on a bus. It’s Ultraman in your pocket, and even when it’s broken, it’s still Ultraman. Plus, the ridiculous difficulty spikes make every victory feel like I actually saved the world.

Lost in Translation: The Language Barrier Boss

Here’s another curveball: none of these Ultraman games ever got an English release. Yup — goodbye instructions, goodbye tutorials, goodbye menus. The game just throws you in, full Japanese text, and says “Good luck, hero!”

Your best bet to figure out what the heck is going on?

• Stumble through the tutorial until Ultraman randomly decides he’s finished teaching you.
• Use Google Lens like it’s your trusty sidekick.
• Or go old-school and dig through GameFAQs guides. (There’s a full guide for Ultraman Fighting Evolution Rebirth out there — lifesaver!)

That’s literally how I survived the tutorial stage — trial, error, and a lot of squinting. And honestly? It made the whole thing even funnier.

Why They’re So Bad They’re Great

They make me laugh harder than half the comedy games I own.

They’re basically playable blooper reels of the TV show.

They remind me why I love Ultraman in the first place: not because it’s flawless, but because it’s earnest, campy, and fun even when it stumbles.

EZRetro’s Totally Biased Ranking

Fighting Evolution Rebirth (PS2) – The ultimate janky masterpiece.

Fighting Evolution 3 (PS2) – Peak drama, peak Ultraman energy.

Fighting Evolution (PS2) – The OG mess, broken but charming.

Ultraman Portable (PSP) – Bless its heart. It tried.

Why i come back to it

When I’m killing time at work, Ultraman Portable on my trusty RG28XX is my go-to. It’s discreet, perfect for blasting kaiju without anyone noticing, and it keeps me awake while waiting for my shift to end. For the bigger screen though, I skip the weaker PS2 entries and dive straight into Fighting Evolution Rebirth. It’s the one that makes me laugh, rage, and cheer all in the same sitting.

Ultraman has starred in dozens of games across consoles — from platformers on SNES and Game Boy to RPGs, tactical sims, and even Pokémon-style kaiju battles. But in my opinion, nothing beats the fighting games. They’re clunky, campy, and packed with that rubber-suit wrestling energy that makes Ultraman so lovable. If you’re curious about the series, start with the fighters — they’re messy, hilarious, and the most fun you’ll have with Ultraman in game form.