Mega Man 5 (1992) is the comfort-food entry: gorgeous backgrounds, smooth play, and a familiar rhythm. The story twist this time has Proto Man, your old ally, seemingly turn villain, though naturally all is not what it seems.

Its signature hook is the hunt for Beat, a robotic bird helper you unlock only by collecting a hidden letter in each of the eight Robot Master stages, spelling out MEGAMANV. Miss one and you go back hunting. Beat is worth the trouble: he homes in on whatever is nearest and chews through it, and he trivializes at least one late boss that would otherwise take real work.

Under the hood this is the entry where Capcom quietly rebalanced the whole arsenal. The charge shot is stronger than it was in 4, which sounds like a gift until you notice the Robot Master weapons were dialed back to match. The practical effect is that you spend most of MM5 on the Mega Buster and pull out a special weapon for specific problems, rather than juggling eight of them. Whether that's an improvement depends on whether you liked the juggling.

It's also the most generous game in the NES run. Checkpoints are frequent, energy drops are plentiful, and the Super Arrow gives you a platform on demand so the tricky jumps become optional. Coming straight off the wall of Mega Man 1, the difference is startling.

The art is the other reason to keep it. Gravity Man's ceiling-flipping stage, Star Man's low-gravity void, the crystal caves: this is the best the series ever looked on the hardware, and the stage-select art has a confidence the earlier games don't.

Critics argue the series was running on autopilot by now. Maybe, but it's autopilot at a very high cruising altitude. A clean, confident NES action game, and the one I hand to somebody who has never played a Mega Man before.