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I collapsed upon Zalaga, parched and rigid. Severely depleted after hours of fruitless bafflement at the keys of Derek Brewster's mega-headache Codename Mat (for the Spectrum from Micromega), I could barely muster the enthusiasm to breathe. The end, I felt sure, was both near and growing steadily impatient...

Then I loaded Zalaga... and suddenly all was right with the world again. It was as if a litre of easy-scoop had been crammed down my shorts. My digits were dancing.

Zalaga, it transpires, is the perfect antidote to hyper complex, smart-ass super progs. It's the antithesis of the current vogue: Galaxians. Not any old Galaxians - but the *best* Galaxians. The thing is magic!

Ferociously difficult, refreshingly accessible, beautifully drawn and thoroughly addictive. Wave after wave of waltzing war birds whizz toward you, and there's no ineffectual pondering, no consternation at the keys... You just let those suckers fly.