Die Young is something of a reinterpretation of the concept, however, and it's an interesting one. Survival! It's the milk protein of the decade*. And if he hadn't screwed up my near perfect run by gunning down a civilian who stood behind his target, the div. It'd be nice if he automatically hoovered up guns and arrested people instead of having to be told for each one. Your AI mate is a bit on the slow side at times, though. Options are a tiny bit on the limited side, but the simplicity works as a strength. It's tense and fast, almost to a Hotline Miami degree, but fortunately it has the requisite instant restart button. Unlike SWAT though, it's likely that you'll shoot a couple down every time. Failing that, you're encouraged to fire a warning shot close to them (a controversial practice that some police forces forbid), or if possible give them a solid melee whack before arresting them and confiscating their gun. Ideally you yell at them and they give up. This is a punishing game in which one or two shots will kill, and you're penalised for shooting anyone who isn't a threat to you, like a civilian. I don't get the impression it will come down hard on American policing nor particularly cheerlead it, but the bulk of my time was spent in missions anyway. Your job is to sneak, fight, and yell your way through 18 story missions, chronicling the aggressive investigation and prosecution of a criminal conspiracy with your friend and partner. It's a top-down tactical shooter that leans firstly towards the non-lethal ethos of the SWAT series, then leans the other way towards the more deadly, militarised attitude of Doorkickers, and finally changes its mind and goes directly between them instead. The wrong arm of the law extends once more to point threateningly at gangsters, smugglers, and possibly a chef who walked past at the wrong moment. We need more sport games with this kind of humour and accessibility. I didn't know what would happen if I turned down the shady feller's offer to hire escorts for my team, but I suspected, and that was enough to make it an interesting decision. I was proud of my lads, whoever they were. It's a simple system that really pares everything down to the point where I punched the air with every goal, even though none of my players even have names. But most of the match is a case of playing it safe and waiting for an opportunity, or taking a risk at the cost of (temporary) exhaustion. "Keep possession" is a dull but useful one, but there are more outlandish ones like offside traps, aggressive formations, or riling up the crowd just to see what happens. Card haters need not fear - they're really just a shorthand for instructions you shout from the sidelines, hoping the team will listen. Before it starts, you pick one training option, and up to five one-off cards to play during the match. And woven into all that is a surreal, minimalist language and a mysticism that replaces the acres of boring stats you normally get with degrees of Karma and "Kaos". This odd blend detaches it from anything too real, even as it introduces wealthy Russian gangsters, shady match fixers, and the faintly menacing presence of THIEFA. It's all over the place chronologically, with a lightly jazzy, 1940s fashioned soundtrack, mega-corrupt characters in dramatic outfits encouraging players to slack it in the pub, evoking the 60s or 70s, and the big press conferences and references to social media you'd expect today.
You're the new manager of an unremarkable team, Calchester, in what I took to be the 1960s but that's just its styling. It's a management game crossed with interactive fiction, with the fat of both genres ruthlessly trimmed off. This is an odd game that does very little to explain itself, and yet makes a lot of sense.
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Installing malware on every PC I find left on overnight this week: island escapes, imperial collapses, and forbidden studies. It is time, my friends, for Unknown Pleasures, our regular delivery of the best lesser-known games on Steam, direct to your eyeballs, or possibly your earcubes.
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There is only me, Candide the rainbow llama, and the endless invisible stream of code I must consume to sustain my terrible power. The office is eerily empty tonight, as RPS has vanquished another foe, and been locked out in turn by my guerrilla forces.
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