Unless otherwise stated this review is not affiliated with any other website nor has the review been authorised by the copyright company or indiviudal author. As of 17th July 2017 this encompasses every review within ZXSR. If you would like this or any other review removed from this website, please contact the website administrator here.

Not Known
ZX Spectrum 48K

Other Links

Tim Blackbond
Chris Bourne

Hello! I'm on loan from Amstrad Action and I'd like to talk to you about my fanzine, Artificial Intelligence. It's witty, informed, nicely orange and... what? Oh, how damned inconvenient. I'm afraid I'll have to break off here in order to write the review.

The Fury
Picture, if you will, a racing track in deep space. Then imagine a sort of Formula One Grand Prix Nige-Mansell-goes-berserk-with-heavy- machine-guns-gratuitous-leaden- death sub-plot. That's The Fury in a nutshell.

The idea behind the game is to drive around as fast and as violently as possible, with extra points gained by killing other drivers. With the points converted to hard cash, you can buy loads of death- dealing add-ons for your car, or even a new (and, naturally, more dangerous) set of wheels altogether. The absurdly long set of instructions also mentions the Fury itself, which is a sort of alternative dimension you enter by driving much too fast for your own good. Or something.

Driving games have always suffered from irritatingly smug Speccy opponents who cut you up on the first corner, so playing one where you can instantly retaliate by launching a couple of missiles was a lot of fun. Fast, extremely detailed graphics fill the screen with maniac contestants and scorching explosions, and atmospheric extras like the judges' roving gunsight that homes in on you if you drive too safely add to the Mad Max-y feeling. I liked it. Basically.

Ho hum. How can this game be explained? There's a maze, right, and it moves around. Then there's you, a spider-like monster with a keen interest in stuffing his face. If you so much as touch the outer walls of the maze, you'll die. A trifle harsh punishment but a fitting one as I'm sure you'll agree.

On top of trying to avoid being pushed into the walls, there is also water to avoid (swimming was something this species could never grasp) and small clusters of drawing pins. Ouch) (Dangerous occupation, reviewing. Ed) That's all there is to it. The graphics are basic as, er, BASIC and by reading the previous bunch of words you'd think the game was deeply, deeply shallow. But by reading the following bunch of words you'd change your opinion. Splat is so addictive you'll need to buy it on prescription. That randomly-moving maze really does get the old heart palpitating, and the vastly horrible range of obstacles added with every new level is something to behold in wonder. Okay, you'll probably be too busy shouting and telling everybody that passes how unfair the game is and you'll never play it again and all Speccy games are crap, and so are 3 Speccies come to think of it. in fact Sir Clive Sinclair is the spawn of the devil and excuse me while I have another go to regard them with wonder, but you get the idea.

As with every compilation, there has to be a turkey of the bunch. A fundamental rule of the universe, or something. Anyway, here it is! Mega-Apocalypse is little more than a less-advanced version of Asteroids. The idea of the game is to go boldly where no person has ever gone before, seek out new planets and blow the living daylights out of them. And there you have it, guide your pyramid-shaped craft through the same level over and over and over goal is to stay awake.


Platform-scantily-clad-ex-Benny Hill-model-whiparama! Basically. Oh, all right. The world's been taken over by dinosaurs, and as the last hume (Corinne Russell, no less) your task is to defeat the monsters, save the planet, blah blah, yakity shmakity, and so on in a similar vein. In game terms you run along a landscape, whipping beasties to within an inch of their lives, and collecting bonuses along the route. The trouble is, it can be just a tad easy. I mean, the beasties either come from the left or right (none of this attack from above business) and all the supposedly tricky leaps over gaping chasms can be timed with the greatest of ease. It's fun for a short while, but the novelty will wear off given time, mark my words, me laddo.

4 Most Thrillers, eh? (Ha! No problem, this lingo.) It's a strange collection of titles, none of which can be really classed as thrillers. For example, there s little mention of Michael Jackson and no surprise twist endings at all. Oh, and two of the games are not at all thrilling either. If you've already got The Fury, this is worth a look for the mind-thrashingly rare Splat. (Oh blimey, six lines short.) Now, about my fanzine. (No. Ed) Er, and now in Your Sinclair, a selection of edited highlights from Tim Blackbond's 4-Most Thrillers review. (Go away. Ed)


Screenshot Text

Linda and her beloved orange Beetle were out for a quiet drive when suddenly they were sucked into another dimension and forced to race in a death derby. 'Jeepers!' remarked Linda later. 'It was lucky I'd packed some sandwiches.' (Film at eleven.)

The lozenge of death floated lazily through the eternal void, in a vaguely poetic sort of way. Suddenly he was set upon by two cheese puffs and never seen again.

Yetta the octopus was having a fine old time. Contrary to the sceptical musings of Bob and Patricia, she had succeeded in disguising herself as a lot of leaves.