It's not just the theme that's been pinched from the Sega classic, though. One of the major gameplay differences between Sega Rally and, say, Ridge Racer (and one which no-one seems to have picked up on) is the restrictively unforgiving play structure. In Ridge Racer, if you crash, skid or spin, the computer opponents are slowed down to compensate for your error, giving you a chance to retrieve the situation. (Similarly, if you get ahead, they drive at the peak of their capabilities in order to stay as close to your tail as possible). In Sega Rally, however, your only chance to win the race is to drive more or less perfectly all the way through - one major shunt and, while you'll still make the checkpoint, you simply won't be given the opportunity to finish in first place as the computer cars stay frustratingly out of reach.

Choro Q has taken this creed and stretched it to breaking point. In fact, on the simplest of the six tracks, starting at the back of the grid in the fastest car and driving flawlessly at top speed all through the three laps of the race still won't get you to the front - if you're lucky, you'll just scrape second, but third is more likely. Selecting the same race again will see you start in the position you finished in previously, but even starting from third you'll need to drive absolutely perfectly, and even then you'll only pass the leader about three inches from the finish line.

Driving perfectly isn't as easy as it sounds, either. Steering is extremely heavy in Choro Q, and the line between not-turning-at-all and slewing into a wild 720-degree spin is a wafer-thin one. All taken together, these factors make Choro Q almost unplayably hard, which is a shame because it's so nearly excellent - the courses are beautifully designed and gorgeously realised, and once you eventually get the hang of the handling (and make some sense out of the all-Japanese menus) you can make a pretty fair stab at about half of the courses. Just don't scrape any of the walls while you're doing it.