Sir, You Are Being Hunted review

Ben Griffin at

Sir, You Are Being Hunted is like being hooked up to an Earl Grey drip and bludgeoned with crumpets. It’s a tut at the weather. It’s a framed picture of the Queen. It’s a pissed old regular at the village pub. The developers call it ‘tweedpunk’. I call it ‘very British’. It’s to the UK what the Fallout games are to the US, and it has an utterly unique visual language.

A stealth game at heart, you’ll forage through spectral swathes of British countryside for mysterious fragments and bring them to a shrine. Badass robotic gentry with tweed jackets and flat caps stand in your way. Such open parameters should leave ample room for experimentation, the perfect structure in which to house a whirring, spluttering anecdote generator, but developers Big Robot don’t use the space interestingly enough.