Discreetly-named air war leviathan

“Chutes” be damned. This was, to all intents and purposes, Carpet Bombing For Fun, as evinced by the explosion noises made by playing kids as they dropped the “chutes” on the revolving target, curiously painted up to look like some presumably inconspicuous fictional landmass, although it did resemble a sort of pre-continental drift Africa, now we come to think of it¹.

Anyway, the stout bomber - sorry - troop carrier² was mounted on a robust gantry, and controlled by one of those initially-exciting-looking, dial-heavy flight-deck consoles which, on closer inspection, turns out to have just two actual controls (three, if you include the off switch), the rest being useless stickers³. Ah well.

As the ground span relentlessly beneath, you would position your plane fore and aft, look through the crosshairs, wait for a target to come into view, and then bombs… er, chutes away! Get all ten in the waiting cups below and you win.

In a desperate attempt to reinforce the “liberation not annihilation” element a lesser-known sequel game was eventually introduced, Night Rescue Chutes Away, although the good intentions were slightly undermined by its description as a “target” game. The difference here? Your paratroopers could be dropped in the dark because there was a spotlight stuck under the plane.

In theory, this exciting development could have been a major USP, allowing as it did for the possibility of covert, post-curfew playtime. Unfortunately, the clockwork turntable that drove the thing made so much bloody noise, we might as well’ve had an actual plane in there with us.

Anyway, it was all good clean Dresden fun, brought to you by the good people of Gabriel. Gabriel?! No, us neither.