Conan review

Oct 23, 2007

Ah, the age of Conan. A time when men were men, women were all gagging for it and evil sorcerers were busy ruining everyone’s fun with their nefarious machinations. Welcome to Hyboria; better have an oiled blade and a bumper box of elastoplasts at the ready... because you’re sure as hell gonna need them.

For starters, we’ll come out like the Conasexuals we are and declare our undying love for all things Cimmerian. This king of the barbarians is one mighty piece of property. He’s a no-holds-barred war and sex machine who’ll slaughter legions of evil-doers before sating himself on a bevy of lusty wenches. He’s the only man we know who can get away with wearing a furry thong and still look dead hard. In short, he’s our hero.

Still, during the seven or so hours it’ll take you to steamroll through the game (a pretty respectable length for a button-masher, all told) and recapture each part of Conan’s stolen armour you’ll have journeyed halfway across Hyboria - battled pirates, demons, monster apes, stone demons, rescued virtuous maidens and foiled the machinations of an evil sorcerer who’s sporting a “Johnny Depp meets The Darkness” look. In short, despite the near nonsensical and disjointed narrative it’s a royal hoot and a return to those halcyon days when hack-’n’-slashers - above all others - absolutely ruled the gaming roost.