LucasArts' game Full Throttle arrived in 1995--the same year they released one of my all-time favorite GAGs, The Dig. Sierra was releasing a slew of titles as well, mostly sequels and Phantasmagoria. It was a rich time for GAGs, which would soon devolve into "3-D" efforts to take some shelf space back from the ubiquitous first-person shooters following in the wake of Doom (1993). In short, it was a LucasArts title developed during their glory days, and it's overshadowed by that legendary company's other efforts. In other words, it's a mediocre game for LucasArts--which means that it's still enjoyable, even if not great.

Screenshot from Full Throttle

The game seems to be a mix of Mad Max and Escape from New York themes. The main character is a Kurt Russell ("Call me Snake") type named Ben, leader of a motorcycle gang. The game is set in a post-apocalyptic environment reminiscent of movies like The Road Warrior. All this is tied up with a dose of Easy Rider and plenty of shots of motorcyles tearing down lonely highways to pulse-pounding rock (mostly digitized samples of a band named "The Gone Jackals). Although I don't usually appreciate recorded music in games, the band's guzzlin' guitar music fits the engine-revving atmosphere perfectly. The voice acting is mostly good--if you consider Kurt Russell's tough guy routine do be good, that is.

Unfortunately, the plot is a bit too kitschy to warrant much attention. I won't bore you with the details; it's on par with such Hollywood classics as Hell Cats. The game is considerably shorter than most GAGs, a fact which I actually appreciate--seeing as how there is little worse than a GAG that tries to make itself longer via cumbersome backtracking, insanely obscure puzzles, or randomized mazes. The game has excellent pacing and a coherent feel, with well-executed cutscenes adding some narrative unity to each section of the game. It's a meat and potatoes game, but it's meat and potatoes done greasy spoon style.

The puzzles range from clever to irritating, and the "action" sequences are difficult enough to make one thankful for the cheat codes that let you bypass them. Some of the worst puzzles are dialogue-based. The only way to get through them is to click through each option, which are often nested. Sigh. Dialogue-based puzzles are seldom much fun, and these are no exception. People who played this game are likely to groan with me as they read: "Diapered dynamo." Some of the late-game puzzles involve computer panels with a myriad of dead-ends. Thankfully, although your avatar can (and often) dies in this game, the game will automatically resume. Interestingly, the avatar will say, "Oops. I need to try that again," when the screen cuts to black. It leads to a fairly interesting narrative effect. Who and where is this avatar that can speak to us even though he's dead?

Probably my favorite puzzle in the game invovled some batter-powered bunnies and a minefield. The avatar must use the bunnies to detonate the mines and create a safe passage across. It's an inventive scenario, and humorous to boot. Good stuff.

Most LucasArts games are chocked full of allusions, self-references, and stabs at the player. The third wall is broken often and effectively. There is very little of that here. I think we're supposed to take the game seriously, which is a bit off-putting given its cheezy plot.

The best part of FT is definitely the mood it creates and maintains. There's something relaxing and invigorating about watching Ben roar down the highway on his bike; I actually caught myself wanting to test drive a motorcycle and do the same thing on the deadly streets of St Cloud, MN. This game is about image and atmosphere--a few afternoon's diversion at best.

Bookmark/Search this post with:
– – –