ROCKETBIRDS: HARDBOILED CHICKEN
The Cold War – Yanks and Russkies going hammer ‘n’ tongs with the
mistrusting, yeah? Well, apparently there was a similar standoff
between chickens and penguins.
Rocketbirds: Hardboiled Chicken lets us in on this apparent
fowl freezedicament, as you fill the boots – for here the chickens
they be wearin’ the bootses - of Hardboiled Chicken. He’s one hard
chickenfucker. Well, assuming he has the odd hen on the side to
rumpety-pumpety with, natch.
We’re talking side-scrolling 2Dish platforming, with occasional
jetpack action – or ‘jetpaction’. Flightless our feathered parson’s
nosed arse! The latter bits are ace, but all too infrequent,
reminding us of ’80s arcade awesomeness Time Pilot. The
former – platformy bits, for the short attention spanned - can
frustrate. Page slides in, you traverse it, approach the edge,
another page slides in. Obviously a stylistic choice, it can be
mucho percucking annoying.
Speaking of style, R:HC has overload; it almost oozes from
your PS3, congeals all puddlesque Terminatoristically and makes a
beeline to your wardrobe to detonate any instances of legwarmers,
hypercolour or shoulder pads. It’s like a Quentin Tarantino/John
Kricfalusi coproduction, with liberal sprinklings of Tintin and
pharmaceutical input by Timothy Leary.
However, puzzles are b-a-s-i-c – need swipecard, slide box, jump,
run, blammo pengies, find it, schlep back to door, open it - and
there’s little challenge from adversaries, unless there’s a swarmy
fucktonne. The ability to mind control penguins at certain points is
Music from US emo/prog rockers New World Revolution adds buckets to
the style surfeit, accompanying cutscenes of flashbacks to
Hardboiled’s childhood and the many wrongs he suffered at the
flightless wings of arsehole totalitarian penguins. Again, we can’t
overstate how utterly fucking stylish this game is.
But all the style ever can’t mask that Rocketbirds: Hardboiled
Chicken is more rubber chicken than MMMmmm... chicken. Percuck.