The simple worm models manage to convey an impressive amount of character through facial expressions alone, with cartoon awe, delight, fear and cockiness brilliantly realised along with those trademark high-pitched vocals. It's not the most technically impressive title you'll ever see, certainly, but it's perfect for the franchise. In fact, it's immediately clear once you've got the tutorial out of the way that the entire game is still fundamentally intact apart from the addition of a few new weapons (the gas grenades and nuclear attacks, for example), and this is probably to the relief of teary-eyed nostalgics and to the disgust of dismissive remake cynics. It really does house one of the finest multiplayer experiences we've had to date, and one that remains largely unchanged. The 'playful' bickering that often ensues may result in hospital treatment, but at least you can laugh about it afterwards. The majority of the Worms charm comes from being able to crowd round one computer or console with your chums and devise the cruellest, most callous way of offing your mate's earth-dwellers. The loser is the first to have all of his worms blown away. Mass destruction ensues as each team takes its turn to knock shades out of the other, with both worms and the scenery suffering. One member of a team picks a weapon from an occasionally bizarre arsenal ranging from bazookas, shotguns and Uzis to bananas, bouncing sheep and grannies. Two teams of worms are placed in random locations across a completely destructible level suspended above water. some other things I can't remember right now. The premise is deceptively simple, recalling golden oldies like Scorched Tanks and. I'd wager the majority of you reading this are already quite aware of what a Worms game involves, so skip this paragraph if that includes you. There are Worms to kill, dear." Total Wormage Some nine years later and here I am, my better half nagging me from the living room. "Busy!" said I, hunched over my Amiga as the warm summer sun strained to make its way through the closed curtains. You owe me hours of lost youth, cooped up in my bedroom while my mother pleaded with me to come down and join the rest of the family in the garden for a barbeque.