When I were a lad, everything as far as the eye could see were fields. Alright then, like the suggestion that a pound was a lot of money back when we were youngsters, that’s a lie, but you get the idea. The videogames industry has changed immeasurably since this series’ debut on the Saturn in 1996 (well, apart from men plus guns equalling success, obviously). If a racing game doesn’t offer the chance to scribble rude words down the side of your car – and nearly a quarter of the Earth’s surface to speed through – it’s in the bargain bin before you can say ‘Forza Motorsport 2’ right?

Wrong. Nevertheless, there have been several modernising changes made to the old formula, and no sooner than the ‘on’ button is switched, you’ll be screaming all the important questions. ‘Why isn’t the entire thing one large race?’, ‘Are we supposed to believe that alpine villages and elephants lie within the same country?’ and ‘Where’s that man gone that used to sing “Game Over, Yeah!” when you stuffed it all up?’ Tragically, Sega is yet to inform us of his whereabouts. What we do know is that Arcade mode technically no longer exists, replaced by three increasingly difficult championship series. Covering production models, specially tuned rally cars and all-time classics, these are themselves subdivided into individual tournaments, in which a set quota of points must be earned in order to make progress. So far, so mathematical. From here, it’s simply a matter of selecting manual or automatic transmission, then gentlemen, start your engines (wait a second, we’re definitely confusing our arcade classics!)

Happily enough, such concessions to progress end once your wheels touch the road surface, as those memories start flooding back. Put briefly, this isn’t the kind of rally game in which one mistake will see you upside down in a ditch, arguing the toss over whether that was an easy or medium left. All that you’re asked to concentrate on is repeating joyous laps of undulating tracks, until each bend and every change of surface is pre-empted by that great textbook in your mind, and eventually your fingers. While it’s pretty much impossible to crash, and really difficult to end up facing the wrong way, striving for perfection is infinitely less forgiving. Subtle yet crucial differences between, say, waterlogged tarmac and slush will turn a pleasant coast around stunning valleys into a swift date with the surgeon’s knife. Such attention to detail lends just 15 short tracks more depth than your average role-playing epic. What’s more, after a disorienting start, you simply do not finish a race less entertained than at the finish line of your previous one. Such unashamed dedication to producing the perfect videogame experience with no desire to create either a work of cinema or some kind of car owner’s handbook is an attitude of mind X360 could do with seeing more of.

The only significant on-track change – real-time tyre groove creation – only serves to multiply the difficulty (and enjoyment) factors. While some AI drivers will be prone to occasional errors, straying from the herd, most will successfully follow some kind of racing line for the majority of each lap. As the PR spiel led us to believe, such a weight of glass and steel passing over the soft earth would cause once loose material to become beaten down and therefore more solid. Unusually for such clearly flawed opinion it has become reality, as differences of grip and overall top speed can be felt not only due to what surface you’re on or how wet it is, but between the apex of every corner and the track’s far side. Not only that, but your car will stubbornly refuse to budge from its newly laid tracks should you try to take an alternative line, the whole time its ultra soft suspension bobbing the wheels through each undulation like they’re great lumps of rubber and metal-made flesh within your television set. Witchcraft – witchcraft, we say! That’s before you even consider the graphical implications; namely, the spreading of detritus of various natures (mud, snow, rainwater) over your once pristine ride.

While this kind of effect has been tried before, resulting more often than not in a handful of textures being loaded in and out more transparently than a robbery in broad daylight, Sega Rally’s approach is so organic you’d struggle to even tell how the effect was achieved. Great soaking clouds of what you hope isn’t water buffalo dung fly from the rear of every racer, creating great brown clouds of graphical trickery that must be ridden through. ‘Riding through puddles of water,’ warns the loading screen blurb, ‘will clean the mud from your car, but at the cost of momentarily lowered speed.’ Trust us, the competition between finishing first and watching flecks of dirt glint in the sunlight as they are washed back to earth is a very close one. Similarly, watching a fresh coating of snow turn to zebra stripes with each passing lap quickly becomes as strangely fulfilling as taking those first steps into a crisp winter morning yourself. It really comes to something when every visual aspect of a game has been polished until it shines, including the snow. Outside of more obvious graphical touches, Sega has returned to its exaggerated best with a wealth of overhead aircraft, celestial displays and, of course, more blue sky than there is land. All of which helps to make this one of those games in which there’s simply so much going on you can’t help but slip into that comfortable zone once more. Between the likes of Fuzion Frenzy and Hour Of Victory, this isn’t a common phenomenon, so our advice would be to enjoy it while it lasts. And make sure you’ve got enough crisps, cold pizza and weakly flavoured but highly carbonated drink to last until the new year, obviously.

Proceedings aren’t entirely without fault, however, so much so that we had to sleep on whether to award it the score we eventually did or one degree below. Yes, people, that’s how much we care. While the original Saturn outing showed consummate knowledge of its host technology, objects streaming nicely into view from behind carefully placed blind bends, you’ll find a more liberal approach here. Fences and shrubbery following straights appear as if summoned by Sooty’s little magic wand – even the much-lauded ground deformation can be outrun, causing rivets to appear after the textures they’re composed of. Visually, Sega Rally’s awkward theme lying halfway between outright lunacy and simulation (if that’s possible) throws other questions into the dustclogged air, too. Why isn’t there any kind of cosmetic vehicle deformation whatsoever when organic mud and snow is such a breeze? How come visually open plains are flanked by very obvious invisible walls? Moreover, can’t these barriers even be dotted with an errant rock or three, ready to flip less considerate drivers back the way they came? Such a combination makes putting your hands over your face and screaming during corners only a close second to judging brake distances correctly, at times. This might also be partly why its single-player challenge feels like taking candy from a baby for its first half, then like taking leave of your senses the rest of the way through. We suppose that’s about as Sega as blue skies and the whoring out of once-loved corporate mascots. Sigh.

Regardless, every time you subtly tap the brake when taking a bend atop freshly fallen snow, gliding past opponents who thought speed and power were better options, it becomes clearer that to concentrate on ‘what could have been’ is like Homer Simpson liking Football In The Groin because it has a football in the groin. Put plainly, not just missing the point, but kicking dirt all over it. While it may lack the customisation and general strength in depth of its contemporaries, one sideways run through the start/finish straight of a Sega Rally track offers more excitement than a dozen meticulously researched circuits from the so-called ‘real world’. As with OutRun 2 before it, Sega has succeeded in boiling down motorsport to its constituent parts before, forgive our expression, skimming off the nutritionally void fat rising to the top. All that remains is speed, picturesque alpine walls and none of the painful consequences a combination of the two might bring to anyone actually in the driver’s seat. With the possible exceptions of people allergic to fun, plus football commentators who say fighting on the pitch isn’t what people came to see when the crowd are clearly lapping it up, who could find fault? Just sit back, strap yourself in and feel the Gs. Until the old ‘Game Over’ guy’s whereabouts are revealed though, we’ll be too distressed to award a ten.

Dave Shaw