No one likes getting stuck in a game but it’s a problem a reader suffers through in the otherwise enjoyable 2000 AD comic book adaptation Rogue Trooper.

Beware the Hovertrain. It will only cause you pain.

You are Rogue Trooper. A Genetic Infantryman created by the Souther Army to tip the balance in their fight against the Norts. Both sides battle for dominion over Nu Earth, a toxic war-torn planet where just about everything, including the air, will most likely kill you. After an act of betrayal the Genetic Infantrymen are all but wiped out during their inaugural mission. Rogue manages to save three of his fallen squad mates by retrieving their bio-chips and fitting them to his equipment.

Gunnar, who is now implanted into Rogue’s rifle, is the most useful of your bio-chip buddies. In his basic form Gunnar can serve as an automated sentry gun and his nifty scope is a great way to take out distant Norts by shooting holes in their air tanks. But like most everything else in Rogue’s arsenal your talking rifle can be substantially upgraded.

Bagman facilitates this upgrade process using salvage obtained on the battlefield. The more salvage you collect the more futuristic military kit you have access to, provided Bagman has the blueprint for said kit. The underslung shotgun that can be added to Gunnar works well in close combat. The mortar attachment is another must-have with its potent, long range spread of death and destruction.

The numerous upgrades on offer in this game turned me into a compulsive scavenger, but also quite an unsavoury one. Playing this game I continuously robbed the dead. Piles of valuable salvage are harder to find than expired Norts. Which means copious corpse pillaging. But needs must, especially since Rogue appears to operate without resupply or much backup.

Rogue’s third and final bio-chip squadmate is Helm and compared to the Gunnar and Bagman, he’s a bit superfluous. Helm invites trouble too. Use your talking helmet to hack computers and doors and you can fully expect an enemy counterattack.

Rogue Trooper is no simple run and gun shooter. To survive on Nu Earth, and to hunt down the Traitor General who orchestrated the GI’s downfall, you’ll have to use caution and cover. Drill probes burst out of the ground to deliver incoming rushes of enemy troops. Hoppa gunships prowl menacingly overhead. Automated pillboxes can cut you down in seconds.

Fire on some pillboxes and they eject a flurry of murderous drones. Then there’s the Nort troopers themselves, which come in several different variants. The mechanised Norts are tough to kill and can unleash serious firepower. EMP Troopers emit a blast that temporarily neutralises your bio-chip buddies, while they respond with a distorted outcry.

The future war is hell, but I enjoyed playing Rogue Trooper. Creativity and imagination abound here, since the game draws heavily on its rich comic book roots. Some of the game’s levels do verge on the generic. Military bases and docksides. I’ve seen that stuff many times before. Other locations in Rogue Trooper are ultra cool. Nu Paree is a seedy cityscape that’s satisfying to fight in. The Petrified Forest, perhaps my favourite level, is a haunting maze of trees and enemy snipers. Take shelter in the forest’s many gloomy nooks but be wary of hostile spiders.

To reach the Petrified Forest you have to complete Mission Nine. Hovertrain Journey involves defending a train from a varied Nort onslaught using Gunnar, two side-mounted guns and a flak cannon. I lost count of how many times I failed this mission. Hovertrain Journey started off as a challenge. After the first 10 or so attempts the level grew annoying. That annoyance eventually led to abject despair.

Abject despair is a burning Hovertrain that will never reach its destination. For at least two or three successive weekends I heard the same audible prompts. Utterances repeated in a torturous and predictable loop…

‘Stammels coming in from the left. Use the mounted gun, Rogue. Don’t let any get too close.’

‘Watch it, we’ve been boarded.’

‘Woah-aak’ – The sound a Nort makes when he’s forced off a train.

‘Heads up Rogue. We’ve got company above. Incoming Sun Legions. Good job we have a flak cannon.’

‘Rogue, the train’s almost gone. Your aim better start improving.’

Difficulty spikes in games are interesting. If you’re stubborn. If you refuse to give up on the part of a game that you’re stuck on the act of tackling it starts to become second nature. Repeated failure educates you and consciously or subconsciously you steadily get better. Although that doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re having fun.

The last mission in Rogue Trooper, Final Fight, is also difficult. In your showdown with the Traitor General the game throws wave after wave of every enemy type at you in a relatively confined space. But Final Fight is no Hovertrain Journey. Hovertrain Journey has left me with scars, or at least a grudge. All that time ostensibly wasted. I’ll never get those hours back. And after/if you complete Hovertrain Journey (spoiler alert) the train derails and crashes anyway. So what was the point?

Most worryingly, now that I’m free of my obligation to beat Hovertrain Journey I want to play it again. My gaming life’s become too easy. I miss the depressing struggle and those recurring sound bites…

‘Use the mounted gun, Rogue. Don’t let any get too close.’

‘Watch it we’ve been boarded.’

‘Woah-aak.’

By reader Michael Veal (@msv858)

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