One interesting aspect when it comes to studying the great games of old is that we put all the aspects that makes them great in different boxes for ease of access. Here's the enemies, there's the themes, over yonder is the music,... You know the drill. But one thing that we should actually put emphasis on is to understand that games are always the sums of theirs parts, and by dissecting everything we can lose focus on the actual level design structure. 

Working on Baldomero's Ballad is allowing me to put into the test this knowledge on the Castlevania series by answering one simple question: what makes these classic games so simple yet so unique?  And the answer resides in the enemies and the levels working together to bring the challenge.

If we picture challenge in current games, we usually share a common mental image. A good)level forces us to use all the gadgets and equipment that we have unlocked throughout the adventure so far, or a foe that says "show me how you've mastered the skills you have been using over and over up until now in order to continue".  And the beauty of Castlevania is that this works usually in great harmony, as the enemies cannot work without the layout of the level itself. A room with only stairs is just that, a bunch of steps together.  And a Flying Gargoyle is just an enemy that moves up and down in a sine wave.  But when you combine both that's when the actual challenge happens. Do I hit the Flying Gargoyle and risk failing, wasting both time recovering from the blow as well as not being able to continue moving upstairs?  Or should I risk moving forward hoping that the wave of the sine movement doesn't connect with my head? Decisions are something important I want to portray in Baldomero's Ballad, the same way Castlevania used to do.