After diligently playing and writing about Pikmin level-by-level, it’s time to siphon my thoughts down into the shallow, quantifiable, clickbaity realm of ranking. Below is my list of Pikmin‘s levels from worst to best. I devised the final ranking based on two ephemeral and subjective criteria: how good it is and how much I liked it. Feel free to praise or critique my list in the comments, but feel even freer to post your own list. Opinions are just opinions and I’d like to see how my thoughts and feelings compare to your equally valid ones! And check out longer analyses here.
The Final Trial is less a final level than a bonus room for experienced players. Since its main priority is to offer one final five-minute push and house the final boss, it’s hard to say the level is a great success in anything other than being unobtrusive. As a level, it is really only noticeable near the starting area, which houses the three paths for the three Pikmin types. While this section offers a short final burst of navigational puzzle-solving, it only takes a few minutes to get through and isn’t particularly in tune with the rest of the game’s design. It’s a decent area without many frustrations, but it’s hard to feel like it lives up to its potential in its narrative, aesthetic, or gameplay design.
As a whole, The Impact Site is a fairly characterless area that achieves little beyond its primary goal of acting as a safe space. With only two ship parts the level only lasts two days, and the player can easily miss out on its two bosses, both of which are ridiculously easy. Featuring only one normal enemy that can deal damage, an incredibly small map, generic art, and an incredibly linear layout, The Impact Site amounts to little more than a baby-proof closet for Pikmin newbies to learn the basics.
The Distant Spring is a polarizing level of extremes, but its defining point of polarization might be between its conceptual genius and its troublesome implementation. Though the experience it offers is incredibly diverse and full of puzzles as well as singular combat scenarios, they are often excessively difficult, whether from the surfeit of unfortunately placed enemies and obstacles, too-intricate map design, or game-long control issues that feel amplified under pressure. These components stifle the overarching experience, making the player feel as if they are inching forward unassuredly, while also having to be willing to sacrifice more Pikmin than is permissible to any but the most masochistic players. However, more than any other region in the original Pikmin, its design sets the template for future levels in the series, and in many ways would go on to become the spiritual predecessor for the vastly superior areas of Pikmin 3. There is genius hidden behind the flaws here — a genius Nintendo wouldn’t fully harness until over a decade later.
The Forest Navel is a singular and ambitious area that would influence the series exponentially despite its myriad flaws. Indeed, almost every upside has a constituent downside. Its setting is unique, but also drab, overly dark, and underdeveloped. Its layout is less obvious but presents several navigational challenges that stretch the game’s mediocre ally AI to its limit. Its enemy selection is varied, but many enemies feel in need of fine-tuning in terms of behavior of difficulty. Despite these many downsides, The Forest Navel introduces a new type of level design to the series that would flourish in later games, especially once the series’ controls were adjusted and graphics were improved. Having a level as brave and visionary as this in Pikmin 3 would have been a huge boon to the experience of playing that game, as that game’s levels were altogether too similar to each other. But here, The Forest Navel feels like it needed some more time in the ground to sprout into the elegant flower it could have been.
As a whole, The Forest of Hope does a fantastic job walking the tightrope between linear and non-linear design through its map, some well-positioned “checkpoint” obstacles, the broad and evolving enemy variety, and a surprising array of difficulty. The way the map gradually unveils itself through player-directed choice while organically pushing players in specific directions at specific times via naturalistic barriers and difficulty spikes is a hallmark of a great open world design that many games are still trying to figure out. Though its art style is forgettable and its bosses are somewhat shallow, The Forest of Hope manages to seamlessly educate while also embodying Pikmin’s exploratory nature, gradually revealing a world full of wonder.