It’s impossible to talk about this franchise without discussing the handling model, specifically the ludicrous drifting. Through time it’s been smoothed out significantly, made to feel slightly more natural – relatively speaking – and become noticeably less demanding as a result.

In the early games, however, it provides a dramatic learning curve, turning every corner into a challenge of heaving proportions. While drifts are initiated in a manner familiar to anybody who’s played a racing game of the last 15 years, the method of maintaining and then steering out of them is unique, often derided as being ‘on rails’ thanks to the tyres’ tendency to suddenly and unexpectedly find purchase on the tarmac and lurch forwards.

This is a large part of what gives the early games their thrill. Rather than being in complete control of a predictable piece of machinery, you’re effectively riding a living creature, a bucking bronco with a mind of its own. You have to be aware of your surroundings at all times, aware of the situation that you’re currently in and prepared to wrench yourself away from the face of disaster at a moment’s notice. In Revolution, the cars are even more skittish than before, even more prone to wild and unexpected forward momentum. It takes faith and confidence to get through the courses unharmed – allowing the drift to maintain itself by letting go of the D-pad, tapping your way out of it instead of instinctively holding down the opposite lock. It’s
100 percent of your attention, 100 percent of the time.

What makes Revolution a truly special game is that it combines this requirement for concentration on the part of the player with an aesthetic that guarantees that concentration. Pick up the pad, get used to the handling and find your every atom absorbed into its world.

Like a drug, Revolution stimulates your conscious and subconscious mind to such an extent that any external information is pushed to one side and made invisible. The soundtrack pounds your eardrums, wakes you up and drives you forward, the best of its track-listing combining the force of the then-current rave scene with the hooks of children’s cartoon series (the highlight, Rare Hero 2, sounds as though it’s going to segue into the theme from Henry’s Cat at any moment).

The environment is laid out to enhance the sensation of speed, every metre featuring a new landmark, its world a glorious hash of palm trees, wood huts, high commerce skyscrapers and deep, blue ocean, the Shuto Expressway on a playboy’s Hawaiian island. Released just before the trend towards realism took hold, Revolution’s island setting benefits hugely from an appreciation of colour and iconography that stems from the 16bit days.