It's astounding just how much Street Fighter 2 got right. The controls are tight, the graphics are crisp (even now, provided you appreciate pixels), and the music is interminably catchy. But perhaps its biggest triumph is its roster, which started out at a mere eight fighters. For a fighting game to thrive, players need to feel truly invested in their chosen character, establishing the kind of deep connection that can carry across multiple games and even decades. SF2 put forth the kind of designs that are still iconic and appealing almost 30 years later.

Take a trip with us down memory lane as we examine how the original World Warriors stayed the same, even as game platforms and graphics were changing. Be sure to maximize each image (by clicking the little 'expand' icon in the upper right) for the full effect, because it's incredible to see these subtle evolutions up close. With on the horizon, let's take a look back at the legendary fighters who got us here.

Special thanks to for the backgrounds.

Ryu is a paradox, given that he's a nondescript leading man who's somehow unforgettable. It's got to be his plain-yet-immediately-recognizable outfit, which (like the design of so many national flags) consists of only three bold colors. This makes him about as visually interesting as a crash test dummy - especially next to some of Street Fighter's oddballs like Necro or Sodom - but his modest appearance matches his nomadic lifestyle and detachment from notions like glory or fame. Ryu is a World Warrior in every sense, traveling the globe with a singular focus: become stronger.

Despite the fact that Honda's always hundred-hand slapping opponents or torpedoing his entire body at them headfirst, he's actually a pretty nice guy. Sumo wrestling is as much about tradition (like the real-world practice of tossing salt before a match) and prestige as it is two large dudes slamming into each other, and ol' Edmond fights for the honor of his beloved sport rather than any directly self-serving means. His gigantic eyebrows and red, kabuki-style facepaint make him look intimidating, but Honda's all smiles outside of the ring. He's also absurdly muscular for a sumo wrestler - or any human being, really - which looks even more exaggerated given his hunched, low-to-the-ground fighting stance.

It's a fact: kids love Blanka. Don't believe me? Just take a look back at some of the old Street Fighter products and advertisements and you'll see a recurring trend: . A cross between a gorilla and the Jolly Green Giant, this Brazilian beast is the ultimate Street Fighter wild card. Ryu? Chun-Li? Guile? They could almost pass for everyday people. Not Blanka; he's one-of-a-kind, and that made him the de facto poster boy (poster beast?) for Street Fighter 2. If you knew anything about video games in the '90s, and you saw this guy's smiling face rolling your way, you knew exactly what game was being advertised.

It all starts with the hair. Guile's pristinely trimmed, impossibly large flat top is his most notable trademark, besides his stalwart patriotism and passion for being a family man. He seems to suffer from 'Resting Soldier's Frown Face' (or RSFF as it's known in the medical community), though it's hard to blame the guy: he lost his Air Force buddy Charlie Nash to the evil machinations of M. Bison's Shadaloo. Now he travels the world searching for any clue related to Charlie's supposed death, taking the time to hurl Sonic Booms, comb his blonde mane, and whip on a pair of sunglasses mid-fistfight wherever he goes.

Ken Masters is that cool older cousin or fun uncle you had growing up. He's got a sweet sports car, a smokin' hot stable-and-monogamous relationship with his wife, and that blistering red gi which he probably dyed himself. While Ryu has always been the Street Fighter straightman, Ken isn't afraid to let his hair down and bring some style to the fight. Or at the very least crack a smile. However, his easygoing demeanor belies a forceful and finely-tuned fighter who is every bit Ryu's equal - as seen in the two black belts they share.

If all law enforcers took as much pride in a sense of justice as Chun-Li, the world would be a better place. She may not dress like your typical Interpol agent - what with those spiked bracelets and Princess Leia-esque hair buns - but she takes her job to serve and protect seriously as she searches for her father's killers. And if you're in need of motivation when doing leg presses at the gym, just imagine how grand life would be if you had the same kind of sturdy, tremendous thigh muscles as Chun-Li. If you want to high-kick hundreds of times in the blink of an eye, you're going to need some serious lower body strength.

Zangief's character design tells a story, one of struggle and triumph in the Russian wilderness. The pronounced scars on his legs, arms, and back are a testament his grueling bear-wrestling training regimen that has molded him into such a destructive warrior. His inhumanly large muscles display his resolve and dedication to becoming a grappler without equal. And finally, that mohawk and beard reveal that the big guy is not without a sense of humor - or, at the very least, was a fan of The A-Team growing up. Just don't say anything negative about his glorious homeland of Mother Russia, unless you want to go for a ride in a Spinning Piledriver.

One of the most striking aspects of Dhalsim's design is also one of the most contradictory. Dhalsim is himself a yoga master and a pacifist, though he routinely goes against that belief to help raise money for his village in underground fighting tournaments. So if fire-spitting Stretch Armstrong is such an enlightened warrior, why does he wear a necklace of human skulls!? Nothing says 'Zen' like three dead people hanging around your neck. Maybe it's for the intimidation factor - I mean, the poor guy does fight a Russian bear-wrestler and a Brazilian monster-man. Whatever the case, it has endured as a bold fashion accessory to this day.

. The focal point of the year for All Of Games. The lunatic party-festival that shapes the climate and the excitement for all of us, wherever we are, for years to come. It gets bigger every year, it gets better every year, and with this new generation really starting to hit its stride, surely this year’s has the potential to be the best yet, right?

Well of course it does. But there are some things it almost certainly won’t have. Some things that, when you’ve been through enough E3s – whether present or not – you start to miss. Things E3 used to do, and used to represent, that either don’t exist now, or have been moulded into rather different, modern formulations. We’re not just talking about the fact that we were younger and more springy back then, because that’s just stupid nostalgia. And we’re certainly not talking about the higher ratio of booth-babes in the old days, either, because that’s just stupid. No, these are the things, silly and important, concrete and abstract, that used to really define old E3s. 2015 will be a great show, but we can’t help wishing that they’d just bring back…

Okay, this one is probably partly informed by us just plain missing the pre-Wii Nintendo that was, but goddamnit if Ninty’s real, on-stage E3 appearances didn’t feed directly into the company’s greatness back then. As brilliantly endearing as Iwata’s performances are in the modern Direct broadcasts (and seriously, they are; anyone who’s never felt the compulsion to do one of his little hand gestures while saying the d-word in everyday conversation categorically has no soul), the videos’ edited, contained nature just can’t compete with a bona fide Nintendo press conference.

Nintendo fans, for better or worse, are rabid like no other. When you cram a thousand of them into one room, for an audience with the Great Ones, you get a giddy, deliriously goofy atmosphere you just will not find in any other conference. And Nintendo knew exactly how to play up to that. Reggie’s comic, on-screen persona these days is great, but the loveably meatheaded, natural badassery that led to the caricature was even better. And let’s not forget that whatever games were announced, the highlight was always the perfectly-teased appearance of a live Miyamoto, just as giddily goofy himself, and entirely unafraid to brandish a Hylian Shield without a hint of irony. A crowning moment of awesome each and every year.

‘Last days of Rome’. That’s the best way to sum up Activision’s brief run of ludicrous ‘Just because we can’ parties at E3. Ludicrously decadent, immensely more lavish and star-studded than they ever had any need – or justification – to be, those gigantic nightclub-cum-concert-cum-circus affairs would have been offensively grandiose if they hadn’t been so grandiose as to be delightfully stupid.

The peak arguably came in 2010, when Activision’s ‘conference’ hosted the likes of Eminem, Usher, Rhianna, Deadmaus, Pharrel Williams and Soundgarden. The epoch-making line-up of games that warranted such a show? Tony Hawk: Shred, Guitar Hero: Megadeth, and True Crime: Hong Kong. The last of which you might remember was eventually released by Square-Enix, as Sleeping Dogs. A party worth every nonsensical penny, then.

E3 is a fantastic spectacle these days, and a great reason to be smug about being into games. For a week, the entire press, mainstream and otherwise, has its eyes on us. We are championed. We are reported on feverishly. We are exciting and we are massive. But that global, blanket attention has a flip-side. In having to cater for such a huge spread of reporters with such eclectic audiences and angles, the big companies have got a bit safer about things.

There was a time back in the day when console reveal stage-demos were performed not by developers, or well-choreographed party-bots, or pre-canned footage, but by on its booth, and handed out beer mugs and condoms, because why the hell not? There was time when the biggest party in the games industry felt more like a big-budget nerd-fest than a slick, business tentpole run by polished, perfectly coiffed men in suits. Obviously E3 is better now, in many ways. And obviously its current set-up is better for the industry. But damn, it was fun when it was a bit scruffier, too.

These days, you tend to go in knowing the rough shape of the big three's announcements. Nintendo will play around with an old franchise or two, to varying degrees of effectiveness, announce a few cool-but-nebulous things that are ages off release, and then talk about cool-but-obscure Japanese games and 3DS faceplates. Sony will showcase a mixture of visually stunning AAA, emotive narrative, and indie invention. Microsoft will bring the explosions, the Call of Duty demos, a couple of token attempts at eclecticism, and otherwise perform a slick iteration on its 360 glory days, with additional garnish. That’s great. Everyone has their identity locked in, and the big three are catering to very specific audiences who love their stuff.

But check out Ashley’s highly completist, highly eclectic of the games of E3 ’95. Nintendo brought gory fighting games, platformers, the Virtual Boy, Earthbound, and goddamn Doom. Sega dropped the Saturn, and showed it off with Panzer Dragoon, of all things. Sony had Wipeout and Tekken sitting right next to the original Legacy of Kain. Yeah, the 2D one. Old E3 was fricking nuts, and you never knew what you were going to get. Hell, let’s not forget that the Saturn was announced as available to buy that day during Sega’s conference in ‘95. Okay, it turned out to be a terrible idea, but still. Surprises! And speaking of which…

This might be rose-tinted bullshit talking (hey, it’s fertile ground, they’d grow well), but old E3 used to feel more surprising even beyond the eclectic weirdness on show. You see there was also the delightful way that the internet used to not go out of its way to try to spoil every announcement weeks in advance, like a big excitable puppy who is also a gobshite.

I remember back in the solely print and page days, the E3 issue of any good games mag was like opening up a paper Christmas from a mad sci-fi future. Even with access to faster reporting later on, the conferences maintained their status as megaton surprise-bombs for quite the while. Until, that is, the internet decided that nebulous insider sources and slow, dribbling leaks were more fun than having several solid hours of unexpected amazement thrown in its face. Even when leaks turn out not to be true, they deflate things. Even the most clearly deceitful extravagance adds a special kind of mad hope, making the ultimate truth of a conference disappointing, however great it is. , but if Alex isn’t announced at E3, that’s all anyone’s going to be talking about.

This is the big one. In fact, in spirit, it probably encompasses pretty much all of the prebious. The source of old-school E3, if you will. The natural spring, blurting forth that particular kind of fun in its raw, unsullied form. I’m talking about pure, unrefined, ‘90s rad. You know instinctively what I’m talking about. It’s appearing in your mind right now, not as cogent, specific thoughts, but as an electrifying blur of colours, sounds and feelings.

Most of those colours are variants on neon pink and green. Most of those sounds are triumphant yells of ‘Awesome!’ while things explode, blue electricity crackle, and all manner of vibrant goop squelches around in the background. And the feeling? Nothing but the most strident, exciting, summertime 'Hell yeah'. Games were back in the day. And games marketing really was. And so E3 really, really was. Screw it, if we’re getting back The X-Files, and Twin Peaks, and Power Rangers, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and Doom, I’m starting the campaign to Bring Back Rad right here and right now. If anyone needs me, I’ll be digging out my old Hypercolor t-shirts with an immense sense of righteous vindication.

. The focal point of the year for All Of Games. The lunatic party-festival that shapes the climate and the excitement for all of us, wherever we are, for years to come. It gets bigger every year, it gets better every year, and with this new generation really starting to hit its stride, surely this year’s has the potential to be the best yet, right?

Well of course it does. But there are some things it almost certainly won’t have. Some things that, when you’ve been through enough E3s – whether present or not – you start to miss. Things E3 used to do, and used to represent, that either don’t exist now, or have been moulded into rather different, modern formulations. We’re not just talking about the fact that we were younger and more springy back then, because that’s just stupid nostalgia. And we’re certainly not talking about the higher ratio of booth-babes in the old days, either, because that’s just stupid. No, these are the things, silly and important, concrete and abstract, that used to really define old E3s. 2015 will be a great show, but we can’t help wishing that they’d just bring back…

Okay, this one is probably partly informed by us just plain missing the pre-Wii Nintendo that was, but goddamnit if Ninty’s real, on-stage E3 appearances didn’t feed directly into the company’s greatness back then. As brilliantly endearing as Iwata’s performances are in the modern Direct broadcasts (and seriously, they are; anyone who’s never felt the compulsion to do one of his little hand gestures while saying the d-word in everyday conversation categorically has no soul), the videos’ edited, contained nature just can’t compete with a bona fide Nintendo press conference.

Nintendo fans, for better or worse, are rabid like no other. When you cram a thousand of them into one room, for an audience with the Great Ones, you get a giddy, deliriously goofy atmosphere you just will not find in any other conference. And Nintendo knew exactly how to play up to that. Reggie’s comic, on-screen persona these days is great, but the loveably meatheaded, natural badassery that led to the caricature was even better. And let’s not forget that whatever games were announced, the highlight was always the perfectly-teased appearance of a live Miyamoto, just as giddily goofy himself, and entirely unafraid to brandish a Hylian Shield without a hint of irony. A crowning moment of awesome each and every year.

‘Last days of Rome’. That’s the best way to sum up Activision’s brief run of ludicrous ‘Just because we can’ parties at E3. Ludicrously decadent, immensely more lavish and star-studded than they ever had any need – or justification – to be, those gigantic nightclub-cum-concert-cum-circus affairs would have been offensively grandiose if they hadn’t been so grandiose as to be delightfully stupid.

The peak arguably came in 2010, when Activision’s ‘conference’ hosted the likes of Eminem, Usher, Rhianna, Deadmaus, Pharrel Williams and Soundgarden. The epoch-making line-up of games that warranted such a show? Tony Hawk: Shred, Guitar Hero: Megadeth, and True Crime: Hong Kong. The last of which you might remember was eventually released by Square-Enix, as Sleeping Dogs. A party worth every nonsensical penny, then.

E3 is a fantastic spectacle these days, and a great reason to be smug about being into games. For a week, the entire press, mainstream and otherwise, has its eyes on us. We are championed. We are reported on feverishly. We are exciting and we are massive. But that global, blanket attention has a flip-side. In having to cater for such a huge spread of reporters with such eclectic audiences and angles, the big companies have got a bit safer about things.

There was a time back in the day when console reveal stage-demos were performed not by developers, or well-choreographed party-bots, or pre-canned footage, but by on its booth, and handed out beer mugs and condoms, because why the hell not? There was time when the biggest party in the games industry felt more like a big-budget nerd-fest than a slick, business tentpole run by polished, perfectly coiffed men in suits. Obviously E3 is better now, in many ways. And obviously its current set-up is better for the industry. But damn, it was fun when it was a bit scruffier, too.

These days, you tend to go in knowing the rough shape of the big three's announcements. Nintendo will play around with an old franchise or two, to varying degrees of effectiveness, announce a few cool-but-nebulous things that are ages off release, and then talk about cool-but-obscure Japanese games and 3DS faceplates. Sony will showcase a mixture of visually stunning AAA, emotive narrative, and indie invention. Microsoft will bring the explosions, the Call of Duty demos, a couple of token attempts at eclecticism, and otherwise perform a slick iteration on its 360 glory days, with additional garnish. That’s great. Everyone has their identity locked in, and the big three are catering to very specific audiences who love their stuff.

But check out Ashley’s highly completist, highly eclectic of the games of E3 ’95. Nintendo brought gory fighting games, platformers, the Virtual Boy, Earthbound, and goddamn Doom. Sega dropped the Saturn, and showed it off with Panzer Dragoon, of all things. Sony had Wipeout and Tekken sitting right next to the original Legacy of Kain. Yeah, the 2D one. Old E3 was fricking nuts, and you never knew what you were going to get. Hell, let’s not forget that the Saturn was announced as available to buy that day during Sega’s conference in ‘95. Okay, it turned out to be a terrible idea, but still. Surprises! And speaking of which…

This might be rose-tinted bullshit talking (hey, it’s fertile ground, they’d grow well), but old E3 used to feel more surprising even beyond the eclectic weirdness on show. You see there was also the delightful way that the internet used to not go out of its way to try to spoil every announcement weeks in advance, like a big excitable puppy who is also a gobshite.

I remember back in the solely print and page days, the E3 issue of any good games mag was like opening up a paper Christmas from a mad sci-fi future. Even with access to faster reporting later on, the conferences maintained their status as megaton surprise-bombs for quite the while. Until, that is, the internet decided that nebulous insider sources and slow, dribbling leaks were more fun than having several solid hours of unexpected amazement thrown in its face. Even when leaks turn out not to be true, they deflate things. Even the most clearly deceitful extravagance adds a special kind of mad hope, making the ultimate truth of a conference disappointing, however great it is. , but if Alex isn’t announced at E3, that’s all anyone’s going to be talking about.

This is the big one. In fact, in spirit, it probably encompasses pretty much all of the prebious. The source of old-school E3, if you will. The natural spring, blurting forth that particular kind of fun in its raw, unsullied form. I’m talking about pure, unrefined, ‘90s rad. You know instinctively what I’m talking about. It’s appearing in your mind right now, not as cogent, specific thoughts, but as an electrifying blur of colours, sounds and feelings.

Most of those colours are variants on neon pink and green. Most of those sounds are triumphant yells of ‘Awesome!’ while things explode, blue electricity crackle, and all manner of vibrant goop squelches around in the background. And the feeling? Nothing but the most strident, exciting, summertime 'Hell yeah'. Games were back in the day. And games marketing really was. And so E3 really, really was. Screw it, if we’re getting back The X-Files, and Twin Peaks, and Power Rangers, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and Doom, I’m starting the campaign to Bring Back Rad right here and right now. If anyone needs me, I’ll be digging out my old Hypercolor t-shirts with an immense sense of righteous vindication.

And speaking of t-shirts, that raddest of rad dinosaurs (by Joao Lauro Fonte) is on one, at .