Outlaws pc game download full#

There is a plot, however, which unfolds in the form of cut-scenes as you progress.

The adventure element consists mostly of exploring to find objects which allow you access to the next area - but there are no major puzzles, as such. The controls are infinitely customisable, so you can look up and down, Quake-style, duck behind objects and crawl about in cover, popping up to shoot people. Naturally, you light these with your cigar. There's a shotgun, a knife (which you throw, rather coolly) and even sticks of dynamite. as you work your way around the levels, you'll find more and better weapons. There are a number of weapons -your six-shooter is backed up by a Winchester carbine and. The towns are detailed and they all have secret areas. They've gone all-out for the 'Spaghetti Western' look by using every imaginable cliche, from the title sequence onwards.Ĭo-designers Stephen Shaw and Daron Stinnett are self-confessed Sergio Leone fans, and Outlaws is very atmospheric as a result. But, having played a few levels, it looks like it might be a laugh.

Outlaws pc game download full#

It's based on a revamped Dark Forces 3D engine, and uses Full Throttle, cartoon-style graphics This might not sound like such a good idea at first: after all, the Quake engine has set a standard in games of this type. A fistful of references.īasically, Outlaws is a first-person viewed action adventure. Like all true gunfighters, while the death of your sexy wife registers as something of an annoyance, you seem relieved to be back in the swing of things. Off you go to shoot the shit out of the several hundred unwashed desperadoes responsible for this act of malfeasance. Inevitably, you go to town to buy supplies one day, and return to find your homestead in ruins, your sexy wife just about to pop her clogs, and your child kidnapped by a lunatic in a dentist's smock. You live in a small homestead, which happens to be in the way of someone's plans for a railroad. Apparently, the authorities seemed to have taken this amiss, so you resigned from the job rather than bow to the unnecessary constraints you felt the interfering bureaucrats were placing upon you. You're an ex-lawman because you took it on yourself to shoot a lawbreaker before he could be hanged. (Let's face it, if she looked like a pig in a dress, who'd care?) You also have a young daughter to be proud of - I say proud, because after all those years of bouncing around in a saddle, you're lucky to be able to reproduce at all. You have one of those sexy wives that all ugly lawmen seem to get in Westerns, just so that it seems worse when they get killed by the marauding baddies. You look like a young Henry Fonda after six years in a concentration camp, and you seem to be wearing a false George Washington beard. You are James Anderson - the lanky, black-clad ex-sheriff with no noticeable fondness for red-eye whatsoever.

You are Chris Anderson - the lanky, black-dad sheriff with a fondness for red-eye and a. (Unless it's the farmer's cow, and he wants to keep his stock TOO per cent bovine, rather than have weird half-man, half-cow creatures wandering about on his land, frightening everybody.) (He's probably trying to work out if this is another one of those good, God fearing 19th century farmer's wives who have a bikini-formed year-round tan.) The Wild West is the sort of place where farmers and the cowhands should be friends - because alright, one man likes to push a plough, the other likes to chase a cow, but that's no reason why they can't be friends. That place where women who have stupendous dccolletages and hairstyles, and make-up one hundred years ahead of their time, walk about with their heads down, because if they look up, a leering cowboy with a grubby moustache will strip the gingham from their corseted body with his eyes. You know, that place where black-dad baddies get involved in elaborate plots to take over tiny little towns, largely because they've always wanted a High Street of their own to gallop up and down, shooting wildly into the sky and dragging small furry animals on bits of string behind their horses. (The Two Ronnies, 1972.) The real Wild West. Welcome To The Wild West, No, That's not Hammersmith.