My long-dormant memories of International Superstar Soccer 64‘s stilted commentary reawaken instantly. I haven’t heard it for 25 years, but before the final whistle in the first World League match I’ve played since childhood, I’m reciting every repetition – “No foul the referee says! The referee says play on!” – and mimicking the jarring tone shifts between canned phrases.
“He’s hit it with his … left foot! … ENGLAND… are on the scoresheet!”
It’s laughably clumsy compared to modern sims but every line is delivered with timeless, infectious gusto. The commentator is one of the most committed voice actors ever. He’s too invested in big moments to care about voice cracks and his pithy phrases after each goal, delivered with weight and verve – “Incredible comeback!” … “That must be the winning goal!” … “and the gap has widened!” – capture and amplify mid-match momentum shifts.
The more I play ISS64, the more I’m convinced the rest of the game is equally timeless.
Advances in tech and decades of refinement make many older sports games unplayable, at least for me, but what I intended as a nostalgic jaunt during the World Cup has turned into a new obsession. I’m already 20 matches deep in ISS64’s signature 70-match World League tournament and I’ve won the game’s not-World-Cup twice on the hardest difficulty.
One goal I score for England against Argentina encapsulates its joy.
I’ve switched from the messy default 3-5-2 formation to a custom 4-2-4, with two deep-lying midfielders and two advanced wingers (tactics are surprisingly flexible). Platt, my white-haired enforcer, dives into a tackle near the centre circle, then fires a through pass down the right wing to the onrushing Charlton. Jink inside one defender, sprint past another and cross, the ball heading for the goalkeeper – “there’s a fight for aerial domination!” – before curling away towards the penalty spot. Keegan, my best striker, settles under it, leaps, and rams a header into the near top corner past the already committed keeper.
“Goal! Ah, Goal! Goaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal!”
I replay it step by step. First, the tackle.
Slide tackles are magnetic. If you’re within lunging distance you can steal the ball, even if the attacker has beaten you for pace. Like many bits of ISS64 it’s designed for fun over realism, enabling impossible goal-saving tackles. I love when football games capture the panic of last-ditch defending and the relief of finally hacking it clear, and ISS64 does that better than most, pinging shots off the goalkeeper, the post, and sliding defenders, both teams throwing themselves at the loose ball.
Then, Platt’s through pass.
The ISS series would later morph into Pro Evolution Soccer, whose through passes felt slicker and more incisive than FIFA’s and helped it become the best football series of the early- and mid-noughties. ISS64’s through balls are more choreographed: pressing the button lasers the ball towards a predetermined destination, often too hard and often straight at a defender. But you can sense the roots of what’s to come. When everything lines up, when your centre-midfielder cuts the pass perfectly inside the full-back and your dashing attacker meets it in stride, you feel like a genius.
Charlton, on the wing.
Skills in ISS64 are flashy but pointless. Simply changing direction as a defender approaches by tilting the control stick is almost too reliable. You can slalom at a jog straight from kick-off to the opponent’s box, even on the highest difficulty. But what the game nails, and what many games that came after it would miss, is the unstoppable momentum of a sprinting footballer. A sprint is a commitment, and a flat-out winger can’t suddenly twist 90-degrees and keep running. Here, you must conserve your dash, curve your dribble rather than zig zag, and always plan ahead, knowing when to cut your sprint short to nip inside a defender and when to barrel on, nudging it past them.
To the byline, and the cross.
For the past decade in FIFA, now EA FC, if your striker is free in the box, crosses with roughly the right power and direction will home in on their head or foot, netting satisfying goals. In ISS64 the satisfaction is different: crosses aren’t fully manual but they require more precision. The window for ideal power is narrow and there’s no on-screen indicator, so you cross by feel, an extended button tap rather than a full hold – all while concentrating on exactly where you’re pushing the control stick to find your striker.
Thankfully, curving the ball can salvage a wayward cross, but it’s fiddly. After the cross you fully let go of the control stick and then tilt to swerve and dip the ball. You’re simultaneously directing your striker to meet the cross and aiming your header. The finger gymnastics are too much for my N64 controller’s single, shaky stick – and so when I somehow pull it off, it feels like a big achievement.
Jump, and header.
Like all shots in ISS64, headers are bullets. In theory, the longer you hold the shoot button, the higher your shot and the greater margin for error – but in practice, it’s small variations on thwacking the ball at the top corner. Every goal is emphatic, but keepers are menaces on higher difficulties and can reach every part of the goal, leaping between posts like monkeys between tree trunks. Maneuvering them from their starting position, such as by coaxing them towards a curved cross or by dribbling across the box, is your best bet.
And when my header thumps the net I’m rewarded with the glee of the commentator – “A vital goal for… ENGLAND!” – plus a giant gold “GOAL” that pops on screen as the ball crosses the line, and a charmingly twee celebration (I’ve seen dozens of imaginary babies rocked to sleep).
Not everything about ISS64 holds up, though.
Injury time at the end of each half lasts forever but has a knack of ending as the ball falls to your striker in front of an open goal. A lack of jockey or pressure button while defending means that if you misjudge your angles, attackers can slip by while you just stand there. One-twos, assigned to a dedicated button, simply don’t work.
And the superpowered goalkeepers force you towards repeatable and abusable tactics. There’s a particular save animation, one arm up like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever, that repels anything close-range. Long shots are equally impossible unless you sprint directly sideways along the edge of the box and shoot (I must’ve scored hundreds of goals this way when I first played ISS64).
But I can forgive it because the ways you can score – rebounds, headers, dribbling around the goalkeeper, and free kicks – are still rewarding, as is the build up play that leads to them, whether that’s tiki-taka passes or those pinpoint crosses.
Yesterday I booted up the free-kick practice mode, the commentary replaced with light, bouncy music that felt just as nostalgic. I pinged balls into the area from every angle, mastering power and curve, scoring headers, volleys, and bicycle kicks – and a few direct shots into the top corner.
Before I knew it, 90 minutes of real time had passed. I was seven years old again, fingers sore from wrestling the N64 controller, grinning with glee. International Superstar Soccer 64 really is timeless.