To its credit, Giga Wing bothers to couch its action as the result of some vague claptrap involving the Medallion, an enormous semi-sentient talisman apparently responsible for any and all warfare throughout human history. Embarking on a quest to destroy this massive golden coin of evil are four pilots: lightning-powered Asian tribesman Sinnosuke, nun-turned-dogfighter Isha, the unfortunately named Dr. Stuck, and a foxy former sky pirate called Ruby. It's not much, but Giga Wing may deserve a nod for being the rare shooter to offer a nun as a playable character.

The game's other main innovation lies in the “Reflect Force.” Like countless other vertical shooters, Giga Wing pits you against an increasingly fierce onslaught of foes, but you're not limited to bullet-and-bomb retaliation. Hold down the shot button, and a glowing sphere will surround your ship and reflect enemy fire. The greater the number of oncoming projectiles absorbed, the more powerful your return volley will be.

It's a fun idea at first, but the Reflect Force is soon revealed as Giga Wing's sole relevant point. The game's required strategy is rudimentary: blast lightweight enemies with your standard attacks, wait for a massive burst of candy-colored bullets, bounce it back, and then dodge like mad as your Reflect Force meter automatically refills itself. This rhythm works until later in the game, when enemies blanket the screen with pastel-hued bullets. Giga Wing then loses its balance, demanding that players frantically use bombs and Reflect Force power while searching for safe spots that don't exist. Takumi's lazy approach to the shooter formula involves little more than one wave of bullets after another, and the results are so repetitive and overwhelming that the game's boring when it should be intense.

Giga Wing also drains itself of challenge by using a straight-from-the-arcades continue system. Shot down? No problem. Just press the start button, and you'll keep going from the exact point of your previous demise. Some may prefer to limit their continues, but Giga Wing isn't worth the effort needed for a “one-credit” experience, or even a ten-credit level of mastery.

For one thing, it's never a pretty ride. The graphics have a semi-fuzzy look, and the scenery is an unremarkable progression from air fields to sky palaces to a final lost dimension. The enemy designs are thoroughly bland as well. While it's amusing to see the Medallion encase itself in battleships, pseudo-Mayan armor, and other boss-battle accoutrements, the rest of the foes are just airships, planes, tanks, and so on. The tanks are especially ugly and uninspired in sprite structure. Tiger Heli had better-looking tanks than Giga Wing. The only redeeming parts are extraneous: the character art, by manga creator Kei Toume, is attractive enough, and the soundtrack includes some catchy blends of guitar and piano.

Even in the absence of good structure, Giga Wing scrapes up some appealing moments. There's a certain savage thrill to priming the Reflect Force, rushing into a stream of bullets, and watching every shot sail back into the enemy. That thrill fades long before you've hit the game's final string of bosses (one of which seems like a shoddy Radiant Silvergun tribute), yet it's enough to save Giga Wing from being a complete waste.

The game also has the excuse of offering a slightly different experience based on one's choice of pilot. Though there are only four stages and a total of 20 minutes of play time per run, each character goes through the levels in a different order, complete with brief cut-scenes about saving orphanages and putting an end to decades of Medallion-inspired warfare. It's too charitable to call Giga Wing's series of monologues and two-player conversations an actual story, but the multiple endings were all that made me play to the game's finish more than once (I doubt I'll ever bother seeing the best ones, which come only after you've one-credited this tedious game). The translation's not bad for a lesser-known Capcom arcade port, even though some of the text is maudlin and inappropriately elaborate. Ruby, for example, is unexpectedly verbose for a sky pirate.

I suggest you exact said vicarious recompense through the tenacious conveyance of numerous projectiles toward those in opposition to your passage, Ruby.

Let's return to the punk analogy. If R-Type is the Ramones' debut album and Radiant Silvergun is the Pixies' Doolittle, Giga Wing is a loud and tasteless EP thrown together by a garage band possessing only the vaguest hint of talent. It's crude and uninspired, but satisfying in a really shallow way. And while it'll never be counted as a decent shooter, Giga Wing will nonetheless come in handy for anyone who needs a burst of quick, stupid noise.