King of Clubs review

Crazy golf isn’t the most hilarious thing at the best of times - it’s a glorified crèche for holidaymakers’ children. But Oxygen would claim they’re in on the joke. They know that crazy golf is held in little regard, which is why they made it all so dreadfully tacky. Not rubbish, mind - it’s ironic.

Those jaggy graphics that look sharp enough to saw plywood? That’s tongue in cheek, that is. Probably an achingly smart commentary on the lawsuit-attracting quality of mini-golf safety regulations. And the repetitive cut-outs clumsily tossed in as background filler? No doubt it’s a humorous swipe at mini-golf’s tendency to rely on clichéd course furniture. Oh Oxygen, you slay us.

Done in the name of irony you can get away with graphical murder, right? Er, no. Saying that you intended to make a completely crappy game is no excuse to rob gamers of hard-earned cash that could be spent on something more entertaining than this. Like paying a thug to repeatedly beat you with a sock full of coins.

That aside, how can Oxygen expect us to excuse horrendous controls that decrease swing power as you draw the remote back and a camera that can’t keep up with something as technically baffling as a coloured circle moving across landscapes an N64 would snigger at, meaning you’ve no idea where your hit went wrong. An abomination.

Jul 31, 2008