There is nothing redeeming about this game.
Seriously, to say that this was nothing more than a half-assed attempt at making a fighting game for the NES, which for some reason some suit decided it would be better to switch the target platform over to the Super NES halfway through development, would probably be an understatement.
From the name alone, you could probably already guess that this is a fighting game. Each character has its own set of punches, kicks, and other bit attacks inspired by their unique fighting styles, that—ahh, fuck it, just mash buttons until someone falls down in a drooling coma. Every fight takes place in some open room about the size of an airplane hangar, so you’ll have plenty of space in which to get sick of the sheer monotony of trying to get through a single match without breaking down and crying into your beer. And while using digitized actors might have sounded “rad” at the time, what with all the coke the designers and marketing execs were probably snorting right before convulsing on the floor of a grimy strip club, drawing them crammed into a space about 1/10th of the screen size with only about four colors looks almost indistinguishable from a pile of sick some artist scanned into their paint program.
I’d rather play E.T. on the Atari than play this. I’d rather slap a grizzly bear in the face while wearing a suit made of ground beef and asbestos underwear than play this. Hell, I’d rather listen to Alvin and the Chipmunks full-blast covering the entire Jonas Brothers back catalog, looping indefinitely, while having a circus clown throw rusty darts at my genitals than play this.
I’d rather live my dreams.
I’d rather find true love.
Yet life is so short…