Who says games aren't realistic? Until a couple of years ago, myself and a bunch of other media no-marks used to play in a weekly Thursday night kick-about under London's famous Westway flyover. The opposition was provided by a bunch of local yoof affectionately known as Athletico Street Urchins, whose incessant tricks and flicks would often prove more than a match for our cynical brand of late-tackling grit. However, one sweaty evening after one tackle too many, their gangly central midfielder pulled a knife from his sock and promptly threatened to carve our man to ribbons. Suffice it to say, that was the last match we played.
Amazingly, the spirit of those matches is recreated in Urban Freestyle Soccer, comprising four-on-four no-holds-barred matches in a series of bleak inner city locales. And while you can't wave a blade at your opponent, you can kick him in the windpipe, smack him on the head or throw a tyre at him.
An unlikely mix of football, wrestling and extreme sport, it shouldn't work and often it doesn't. Not because the idea is rank, but because the game is somewhat crippled by rogue AI and aberrant physics.
Which is a shame, because when it's behaving it can be quite entertaining, with goals flowing freely and simple combos providing unlikely gymnastics. Throw in judicious use of punk rock, hip-hop and foul language and the ingredients are there for a vaguely playable mid-price game. But 30 for a load of bugs is taking the piss.