|a game by||Titus|
|Platforms:||XBox, GameBoy Color, GameBoy|
|Editor Rating:||3.5/10, based on 1 review|
|User Rating:||6.0/10 - 3 votes|
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|See also:||RoboCop Games|
Get Terminator on the blower— his baby-food-guzzling fellow cyborg RoboCop needs an intervention chrome dome's first-person shooter suffers more major malfunctions than an AIBO robodog run through a dishwasher. It starts with a story—some cliche-factory crud about a drug named BrainDrain—that makes RoboCop 3 seem like...well, RoboCop 1. Then you get the legally insane enemy A.I., putrid visuals, crummy dialogue—the other reviewers will cover these misdemeanors. I’ll lock onto the game’s felony crime: It’s plain ol’ poorly assembled. Although the levels are the grimy kind of neo-urban settings we saw in the flicks, they feel slapped together. You just dick around for switches and keycards to reach the next area. Some doors open. Some don’t. Even with RoboCop’s “advanced” sensors (basically a filter that turns your screen blue), I still got lost and resorted to trial and error. And someone really needs to calibrate ’Cop’s targeting sensors. He shoots locked-on bad guys exclusively in their ’nads. As if these numskulls didn’t have enough grief.
If it’s RoboCop’s duty to serve and protect innocent civilians, then it’s mine to protect you from purchasing this doodie. Fifty bucks for what? Mentally handicapped enemies, repetitive mission objectives, and some of the least-intentionally humorous dialogue ever. One look at the pools of stagnant, diluted milk that pass for water and you’ll know what to expect visually. And I’m actually glad there’s no multiplayer, since I wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone else. Avoid this pile and go buy Wolfenstein if you’re longing for a new shooter.
You have the right to remain silent, dumbfounded at the thought of having spent so much for so little. You have the right to blast endless poorly animated thugs who won’t fire upon RoboCop when he’s five feet away. You have the right to shoot crates, pull levers, and collect keycards until boredom becomes your new best friend. You have the right to sing the blues and stare at dull, washed-out levels for the duration. If you give up these rights, well, then bully for you.