Total Overdose

Total Overdose

Total Overdose

Viva los racisme casuales!

Friend o' mine used to signal she'd eaten too much by saying, "I've got to go lie on my tummy." Cute. Eidos: go lie on your tummies. Total Overdose has definitely eaten too many games. It's got bits of all sorts. Mainly Grand Theft Auto, which it mimics with amusingly awful results, but also Prince of Persia (Let's rewind time!), Max Payne (Let's slow down time and jump around!), Tony Hawk (Let's get missions from blokes on street corners!), and even Bad Boys II (Look! Another room full of generic gun-toting foreigners! Let's be racist about them!).

That last bit is really quite silly. Apparently it's fine for the unsympathetic cocksure numbskull you play as to wander around Mexico saying things like, "Shut up and stop breathing chilli in my face," and "Hey! If you marry your sister, are you your own kid's uncle? I can't figure it out!" Hey! If you put things like that in your game, is it racist? I can't figure it out!

Having supped on too many games and chucked around lots of casual racism like it's funny, Total Overdose then pulls one of its wacky power-ups out of the bag - the one where you charge uncontrollably around headbutting people like a bull - and smashes its way through the nearest bargain bin in search of other PS2 staples like poorly detailed textures, identikit character models and lots of really transparent game mechanics. "You just picked up EXTRA POINTS. They will be added to your GLOBAL score. Increase your GLOBAL score to win BONUS AWARDS!"

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Total Overdose

See what Mexican flavoured total insanity tastes like.

Forget poly counts. Bin Normal Mapping, High Dynamic Range or whatever trendy buzzwords are currently being wheeled out this week. You can measure the evolution of videogames by the role that hats play. Yes, that's right, hats. While it was satisfying enough to shoot the tin helmets off Nazi soldiers back when Medal Of Honor was new, what we really wanted to do was run up to them while whistling the theme tune to The Great Escape, steal their hat and cartwheel along the wall before popping a cap in them. And their mates. And the scared chickens that have somehow strayed into this increasingly surreal paragraph. Shoo.