![]() A couple of clicks after hearing the prognosis, you're back in the cockpit again, determined to turn a little more smoothly or maintain a tad more speed as you execute manoeuvre X, Y or Z. The injuries vary but recovery is always, in effect, instantaneous. We'll have you patched-up and flying again. “You have a lacerated arm, a fractured clavicle, a ruptured spleen, and a runny nose. One minute it's looking like Take #28 might be the one, the next you're gazing up at the misty visage of the studio's resident surgeon, as he declares, with a thick Teutonic accent: Spins might not be modelled, but as you struggle to line up with that speeding Humvee or narrow aqueduct arch – as you chop your throttle in preparation for another pocket-handkerchief landing – it's all-too-easy to provoke a stall or a fit of catastrophic wingtip wobble. ![]() Nipping at the flight surfaces of the 45 types of flyables is some surprisingly spiky aerodynamic algebra. The sorties are usually as demanding as they are doolally. Giant fibreglass duck-plane? Obviously, that's for egg-bombing cop cars during the filming of a documentary on 'the criminal proclivity of birds'. Parachutes aren't safety devices, they're how you get from skyscraper roof to getaway hovercraft, or from aircraft to hot-air balloon cranium. In Stunt Island a Sopwith Camel isn't for smiting Fokker triplanes or downing Gothas, it's for plucking felons off Alcatraz or flipping catering trucks driven by fleeing gas-station bandits.
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