Clearing kicks are almost impossible. You can alter your attacking plays to push players deeper, but it rarely gives you enough time. In fact, kicking is generally wretched. Tight camera angles and binary aiming make it impossible to determine where the ball will go. It’s more tolerable with ball in hand – often because it’s the sole attacking option – but even then, it doesn’t feel right. Whether you’re a flighty winger or creatine-gorged wardrobe, you can still chip the ball like a twinkle-toed fly-half. Mercifully, place kicking works well. It’s basically the standard video game golf swing, accounting for wind and the curve of the ball. That said, kicking stats barely seem to matter. I tested this in the most judicious way possible: by making prodigious England prop Davey Wilson take over boot-duties; a man more famous for having a neck the width of Goliath’s coal shed than his ability to punt a ball. Sure enough, he slotted his kicks over like a supersized St. Jonny of Wilkinson.
Searching for positives is like laughing off a ruptured testicle: “Well, at least I still have another one. And I find children so frightfully tiresome anyway!” There’s an impressive roster of club teams, most of which seem to be bang up to date. For instance, recent Rugby League convert Sam Burgess is in the Bath line-up. But wait! He’s playing in his Rugby League position. Oh, and there’s the small matter of him being a totally different ethnicity. The licence also doesn’t extend to international sides, so players have names which sound like they’ve been ripped from lusty steampunk fanfic. It’s difficult to remain invested in the barbarous spectacle of the Six Nations (laughably called ‘6 Countries’ here) when Crispin Gadabout has just spun the ball out to Rumbelow Henk.
Let’s have a chat about presentation. The short version is that there isn’t any. No replays; no close ups; nothing. You’d find more finesse in a wet shoebox. Stadiums bear little resemblance to their real-life counterparts. The crowds look like cardboard wraiths with season tickets. There isn’t even a whistle. That’s right: a whistle. Games end with a flatulent sigh rather than shrill peep. Blistering, length-of-the-pitch tries are rewarded with little more than a bland platitude from Stuart Barnes. And while the commentary isn’t awful, you should be prepared for recycled lines from Rugby World Cup 2011. There’s a limit to the number of times you can hear Miles Harrison say, ‘chance to move it wide, maybe’. It’s a limit I reached three years ago.
There are so many other things I haven’t had time to talk about: passing is erratic and imprecise. Multiplayer games are a muddled nightmare, whether competitive or cooperative – I played it with a fellow rugby fan and it actually made him angry. Running sideways is more effective than running straight. There’s no online mode. Worse still, it’s full of bugs. The worst example? After grounding the ball for a try, play would often continue. My player would then clamber to his feet and run the ball dead, like Forrest Gump without the chocolates, joy or whimsical, elegiac exploration of modern American history. Preposterous.
Rugby 15 feels like it’s constructed from the fatty offcuts of juicier rugby games which preceded it. Don’t let fervour for the upcoming World Cup sway your judgement: comedically irrelevant national teams and a lack of basic skills mean that this isn’t worth your time. Avoid it like you would a tackle from Brian Lima.
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Rugby 15 review - App Review 4u
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