You remember Jazz Jackrabbit, right? That twitchy green hare with a blaster bigger than his head, bolting through space-age worlds like a caffeinated Sonic on a sugar bender? Man, if you had a PC in the mid-90s and didn’t at least dabble in Jazz, I kinda feel like you missed a rite of passage.
Let’s get into it — not as a formal review, because Jazz doesn’t ask to be reviewed. He asks to be remembered. And if you’re anything like me, that game is burned into your brain in a way that’s equal parts “whoa” and “what just happened?”
That Pace. Good Lord, The Pace.
So many PC platformers back then felt like they were on sedatives. Clunky jumps, sluggish movement, loading screens that made you question life choices. Then here comes Jazz — flying. Not metaphorically. The dude zooms. The first time you launched into a level and suddenly you’re flying past enemies, bouncing off platforms, grabbing carrots (his weird health power-up — sure, he’s a rabbit, we’ll let it slide), your brain just kinda short-circuited.
It was like someone crammed an arcade machine into your desktop and sprinkled it with the kind of chaos that made your fingers cramp and your heart race.
Soundtrack That Shouldn’t Have Been That Good
Okay, serious question — how did they get that kind of music out of DOS hardware? I’m convinced they made a deal with the devil or kidnapped a techno wizard from the future. Tracks from Tubelectric and Medivo still slap. They’re stuck in my head decades later, and honestly, I’m not mad about it. It gave the game this high-octane pulse that matched the speed. It was like the soundtrack knew your fingers were scrambling to keep up, so it just leaned in and dared you to keep going.
Not Just Another Mascot Platformer
Look, we had a lot of animal mascots back then. It was like everyone was trying to catch up to Sonic and Mario. But Jazz had… I don’t know, attitude? Charm? Some weird mix of B-movie sci-fi and Saturday morning cartoon that shouldn’t have worked, but absolutely did.
He wasn’t trying to be cool — he just was. Like that one kid in school who didn’t say much but had the best drawings in the margins of his notebook and always brought the weird snacks to lunch. Jazz had style, but not in a “look at me” way. More in a “strap in, we’re going places” kind of way.
Guns. Lots of ‘Em.
Jazz didn’t just bop on heads — he came armed. From rapid-fire blasters to flamethrower-ish upgrades, the weapons felt beefy. There was nothing dainty about his arsenal. The sound effects had that crunchy, satisfying bite to them, like you felt every shot. And yeah, the enemies kind of exploded into gloriously weird pixel confetti, which felt very “90s PC” in the best way.
The World(s)
The level design? Let’s just say they weren’t afraid to throw some curveballs. One second you’re in a space station labyrinth, the next you’re running through something that looks like a cyberpunk carnival run by robots with personality disorders. There was a kind of design freedom that didn’t feel boxed in by logic — but somehow, it never felt random. It was all part of this oddly coherent fever dream.
And those secret areas? You had to poke around. The game practically dared you to peek behind every wall, and you’d often get rewarded with power-ups, health, or just that sweet sense of “ha, found it!”
You fire it up today — maybe through DOSBox or some re-release — and yeah, the pixels are chunky, the controls take a minute to reacquaint with your modern, spoiled reflexes. But once it clicks? It still flies.
There’s this raw, unfiltered joy baked into it. It doesn’t try to hold your hand. It doesn’t waste your time. It just drops you into the chaos and says: “Go nuts.”
And honestly? That’s the kind of energy I miss in a lot of modern games. No bloat, no filler, no live-service nonsense. Just you, a bunny with a gun, and the need for speed.
So yeah, Jazz Jackrabbit wasn’t just a game. It was a vibe. A blast of neon-soaked adrenaline that still makes my inner 11-year-old grin like an idiot.
Boot it up sometime. Let the old tunes hit. And if you find yourself gripping the keyboard a little too tight, eyes wide as that green blur rockets across your screen — don’t worry.
You’re just remembering how to feel a game again.
GameDive24 Rating: 9.5/10
