Sometimes an idea comes along that is so simple in design, yet so blindingly obvious, that people slap themselves on the forehead and wonder why they never invented it. Imagine the first time someone injected jam into a doughnut, or marvelled at the open-top double decker bus. Moments of life-enhancing ecstasy, we're sure you'd agree.
How about this... a boxing game that isn't about button bashing. A game where you don't succeed by your ability to hammer the A button into next week, but where real moves are matched by real skill and real force. It's all about the analogue sticks. The harder you move them, the harder the punch. The direction you swing them translates to the direction of your punches.
This is the gaming equivalent of the first time jam found its home in deep-fried batter. Genius. With the Left stick, you control the basic movements of your boxer. Pushing directly up will move him towards his opponent, directly down and he'll retreat. Swivel the stick and he'll weave away from punches, and bob. Easy peasy.
The Right stick is where you'll find most of the action, so equip yourself with a sturdy pad. Moving it diagonally up to the right creates a right hand jab. Diagonally up to the left, you've got a handy left hand jab. Straight out to the right then up, and you swing a right hook. You'll get a left hook if you do the same in the other direction. Pull the stick straight down and swing it fully up to either the left or right for an uppercut in whatever direction you specify. For body punches you repeat the process only with the Left trigger pulled in. And that's it.
We know that paragraph may have sounded more like a manual than a review, but just think about those punches for a moment. They are so simple, and so masterly, they shout 'buy me' even before we've talked about the rest of the game. And that almost speaks for itself anyway.
Graphically there is very little to pick over. The game is glossy to the point of being slippery, and is textured with a depth that complements the controls. Thirty-two prize fighters are listed along with a pick 'n mix of fictional grunts and the customary 'create a boxer with a comedy blue afro' option. As you progress through your career you'll earn money to buy better equipment, a sexier entourage, lighting, pyrotechnics, even fanfares.
But it's a slog getting to the pinnacle of your career. You'll hit the canvas long before you hit your stride and find a set of moves that works. Nail it and you'll open up the flaws in the AI Your opponents leave themselves open to blows that they should second guess, allowing you to target exposed areas, purposely walloping open cuts, affecting their vision and therefore their ability to land solid punches accurately. Beware though, the same applies to you, so avoid fistfuls of glove in a single place.
Once you do bring someone down, rather than a pre-animated KO sequence kicking in, everything happens in real time. The rag doll physics fire up and, depending on where you hit them, they crumple, jelly-legged, to the canvas. It's wholly satisfying to say the least. There is little criticism we can level at Fight Night 2004 other than it may not appeal to everyone, and you may find yourself falling into the same patterns of boxing. Besides these factors though, the game is such a face-pummelling innovation you would happily let it beat you into a pulp. It looks like honey, plays like a pounding prodigy, and will leave your thumbs stiff from exertion. Great stuff.