Although your involvement in it is rather limited, mainly revolving around setting the aggression or otherwise of your batters and bowlers. This cycle can take up to three days, and while it lasts, it makes for an undeniably absorbing game. When that starts to drag, you opt to view just every score of four or more, then every wicket chance, then just every wicket, and then no highlights at all, until eventually you stop playing it. When you first start playing, you’re tempted to watch every ball. It does a passable job though, offering highlights of all, some, or none of the action, depending on your preference. Last year we compared it to a Commodore 64 game, and that may have been generous. In fact, it doesn't look to have been improved since 1984. That game does at least make minor tweaks to the match engine though, which is not the case here. Of course, this exact same argument can be applied to Champ Manager, every updated version of which unfailingly breaks all sales records. Admittedly, the data has also been updated, and if you own the last version, this can be the only reason for buying it, although you would have to be a rampant cricket fan to reap the benefits. To be honest, you might as well do just that, as the only tangible difference is the tragic loss of the iconic Booker T & The MG’s theme tune, the addition of some adverts for Crazy Taxi and Virtua Tennis and a pointless Graham Thorpe endorsement. In fact, whoever wrote the manual would appear to agree, offering this contrary but telling advice: "To start International Cricket Captain 2002: Select INTERNATIONAL CRICKET CAPTAIN 2001." The Data Day What’s most upsetting is that it is to all intents and purposes exactly the same game that I was sat playing almost a year ago to the day. While other reviewers get to travel six pages worth of fantasy worlds, quashing goblins or slaughtering enemy troops, I am stuck with another moribund game of bat and ball.Īlongside more high profile sports games, Empire’s annual cricket extravaganza has now become a firmly entrenched part of the PC’s (anti)social calendar.
That’s what you get for being PC resident sports specialist. Another English summer and I’m sat indoors clicking a mouse as a vague approximation of a game of cricket takes place on the monitor.
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