Originally conceived as a 16-chapter parable documenting the life and climes of Japanese student Ryo Hazuki, Shenmue - and its Dreamcast/Xbox sequel, Shenmue 2 - reigned in the ambitions of veteran Suzuki when profitmongers foreclosed on Sega's hardware estate. But the living legacy of his unrelinquished dream is to be found in every corner, every interlinked pocket, of Shenmue's world. Central to this hierarchy is routine. You can literally set a clock by the daily activities of Ryo and those who inhabit the sleepy township of Yokosuka. Everything changes for 18-year-old Ryo when his father is slain by the mysterious Lan Di, a mafiosi type whose hidden agenda thus spurs the fable. Revenge is a delectation that's best served warm, but Lan Di's nebulous trail leaves the young Hazuki cold. It is here where Shenmue's 'Magic Weather' system comes into its own. Apparently sourced from real-world data pertaining to 1986, each day runs the gamut of climatic change - from crystalline morns, to auburn afternoons and snow-kissed nights. In fact, for the longest time it seems that weather is the only alternator in Ryo's humdrum existence. It's almost as if he's resigned himself to asking silly questions and inviting deadlocked stares. But through it all, through every stubborn ruse and random event (otherwise known as QTEs - wherein the player must act upon simple button prompts), lies the mitigation of character. Everybody knows your name. Everybody 'connects' with Ryo. And though his steps may falter - owing to imprecise movement via digital (ie, d-pad) control - for the most part Ryo connects with the player. Of course, it helps greatly that the clockwork days are interspersed with pleasant distractions; be it amassing capsule toys (which can be sold for profit in Shenmue 2), beating your current high score in Game You arcade, or rehearsing 'Free Battle' moves in empty allotments. Again, in keeping with the Sega lineage, there are arcadey bursts of all-out fisticuffs - culminating in a 70-man scuffle that defines Suzuki (ie, the father of Virtua Fighter). Also defining the 'age' of Dreamcast, circa December 2000 (in fact, thus marking a four-year commemoration at the time of this review), is the unparalleled efficiency of the Shenmue engine. While it's true that foreground detail - such as character modelling - is ravaged by some horrendous draw-in, it's also true that fundamental structure (ie, the world itself) and screen refresh isn't hindered at all by the workload. In this post-Xbox world we live in, Gamestyle is particularly enamoured by several 'Yu-specific' benchmarks: on the supplementary disc known as Shenmue Passport, players can interact with high resolution images (drawn in realtime) that showcase volumetric effects, translucency levels, and multi-pass rendering. In fact, not since the days of Soul Calibur have we sat agog - mindful of the so-called technical strides which have intercepted (the age of) Dreamcast.In fact, upon loading the game for the first time, you'll be privy to a sweeping vista of detail (via the rolling demo featuring Ling Sha Hua) that wouldn't look out of place on Microsoft's machine. Shenmue doesn't just hint at respect - it positively owns it. Finally, on a technical level, nothing quite surpasses the elation and unexpected virtual joy of riding a forklift. Yes, that's not a misprint. When Ryo is forced to earn a wage, his days are no longer given to carefree (or alternately troubled - given your character's perspective) endeavour. However mundane it seems, there's no denying the efficacy of the procedure. Once you've got your head around the 'depth' of the controls - Right to go forward, Left to reverse, A to raise and lower the forks - you'll settle into an irresistible routine (not that you've got a say in the matter, of course). What you can do is enrich the experience by simply tapping the B button. Presto, you're in first-person mode, and the only obstacle to enjoyment is the aforementioned draw-in. But here again, take stock of the scenery - there is no inviolation of the background; everything remains. The 'parameters' of the experience have not been moved, halted, or half-heartedly attached. Everything is as it should be. Crucial to the world of Shenmue - and to the living legacy of Yu Suzuki.