Asterix on the Super Nintendo is that rare platformer where, from the first frame, you hear the comic’s chuckle and practically smell the fizzy magic potion. The cartridge clicks into place—and you’re bounding through the forests of Gaul, popping helmets off Romans; Obelix marches beside you, while Dogmatix circles your boots. Every stage plays like a vignette from Goscinny and Uderzo’s albums: legionary camps, harbor docks, Egyptian sands, and cozy village campfires at dusk. “Asterix,” “Asterix on SNES,” “the mustachioed Gaul game”—call it what you like, your heart remembers the breezy humor, springy sprite animation, and that special sense of the road, where every jump feels like a panel from your favorite strip. It’s the one where the B button becomes a fist, and the soundtrack dares you into another dust-up with Caesar’s cohorts.

The story is simple in the best Asterix tradition: the village is in danger, friends are scattered across the map, and our heroes trek across Europe to school Rome and reclaim what’s theirs. Infogrames shipped it in 1993, neatly bottling the original spirit in 16-bit form: cheeky gags, bonus interludes, and a choice between nimble, potion-powered Asterix and heavyweight Obelix, who does just fine without it. If you’re after release context, dates, covers, and more, we’ve gathered notes in our history, and you can also peek at the English article on Wikipedia to see how the game threads back to the comic and where it fits in the series’ legacy. And somewhere under a laurel wreath, Julius Caesar is already frowning—the Gauls are on the hunt again.

Asterix on the SNES is one of those platformers that feels spring‑loaded: the little Gaul rockets ahead, snags ropes, bursts out of barrels, and every jump lands like a crisp drumroll. Asterix smartly blends snappy platforming with scraps against Roman legionaries: one hit and helmets clang, stars whirl, and you’re already lining up the next ledge. The flow is elastic—some scouting, a touch of pixel‑perfect timing, a pinch of risk—and suddenly you’re sliding into a hidden nook stuffed with goodies. Nab a flask of Getafix’s potion and the tiny Gaul turns into raw momentum, plowing through guards. Jump—kick—roll: tight little chains melt into a groove, and it’s satisfying to hold the pace, easing off only where the wind bites, the ice is slippery, and the platform loves to scoot from under your feet.

The stages feel ripped straight from Asterix: Gaul smells of pine and punch‑ups, Egypt sizzles with sand, Britain throws soggy fog and long bridges your way. The game keeps tossing in set‑pieces—one moment a catapult sends you sky‑high, the next a pirate ship rocks the deck, then a boss flips the beat and forces you to improvise. The Asterix & Obelix spirit shines even solo: playful animation gags, Roman grimaces, slamming trapdoors, secrets tucked behind walls. The sweetest bit is when you lock into your run: your fingers find the timing, the route unwinds from memory, and a jaunty theme pounds in your head. Checkpoints are gentle but never lax; helmets and hidden nooks drip extra lives, and every clean jump feels like a small victory for the village of indomitable Gauls. More details on the gameplay and neat stuff like hidden routes and smart tactics—in our breakdown.