Rising columns of green damage reports, indicate all is not well beneath the target's steel carapace. Want to wallow in senseless devastation and sanity-threatening battle clamour? Cliff has created the perfect wallowing hole.Īfter a brief two-tile respite the gauntlet-runner enters the domain of a fearsome Flame Tower of Tower Defence Doubts. Watching as the multi-coloured lasers lick, the fizzing missiles home, the muzzle shockwaves ripple, and the heaps of corpses grow, it's easy to forget that the Hell-ish scenes that are causing your canteen of char to go cold, are the work of a bedroom outfit. GTB's top-down tussles are smoke-smudged, flame-flecked spectacles of the highest order. The rounds might as well be dried peas for all the damage they cause. Expecting an easy kill (Positech aren't big enough to have anything as grand as an art department) the turret spits twin streams of 7.92mm disdain at the indie intruder. You place it at one end of a winding word-road, line that road with all manner of critical gun turrets, then push the muzzle of a Webley service revolver into the small of the game's back and bark “Get moving!”.Ī stone's throw from its start line, our £19 test subject trundles into range of an MG Turret of Visual Vilification. In my experience there's only one way to assess a corridor-bound RTS.
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