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No, that's wrong. A caper is something like Michael Caine comically robbing the Bank of England with the aid of a gang of lovable London rogues, but getting caught at the end by the clever Inspector in order to show that crime doesn't pay. A caper is not (and I repeat, not) some daft lizard hopping around an unstable mountain in search of his valuable record collection.
The Codies, however, are insisting on clinging to this obviously false premise, so DJ Puff's Volcanic Caper it is. If you cast your mind back about sixty years, you'll remember we previewed the game as a Final Approach in issue eighty. Ha ha! The joke was on us in no uncertain terms. Anyway, the programmer has finally come out of hibernation or been subjected to electro-shock therapy or something, so here it is at last. Was it worth the wait? Before I tell you that, I'd just like to say a few words about the unusual texture of wood.

Get on with it!
Oh. Right. It appears that DJ Puff is the proud owner of a large collection of records. Captain Krip, the ruler of the island on which our scaly hero lives, has decreed that all music be outlawed, and has confiscated Puff's vinyl. Tch. The green DJ has to leap around a load of platformy levels and recover his precious platters. Well, so much for the plot. Who wrote these nonsensical instructions anyway? (We haven't got any instructions - you're reading from your own ancient preview, you clot. Ed)
DJ Puff looks, sounds, plays, tastes and wears its duffel coat very much like an early version of Stuntman Seymour. You've got the same blocky colour scrolling, the same gameplay and the same bombs. (Actually, Puff uses a boomerang (Natch. Ed) but later on you can pick up some bombs, so there.) The only difference is, whereas Stuntman was a 'tricky platform affair with a fair old amount of playability once you get over the frustration barrier' (as I seem have to said in the December issue), DJ Puff is decidedly crap.

No! Say it isn't so!
Sorry, but it is. As I said, the prog looks like an early version of the Seymour game, so everything's slower and rough round the edges. You get some horrible colour clash with the scrolling, and when Puff gets blapped by a baddy, he takes a preposterously long time to fall over. The accompanying horribly slowed-down sound effect is a wonder to behold. In its favour, DJ Puff has massive levels - I thought I'd finished number one, and was wondering why the heck I didn't move on to Level Two, when I suddenly fell down a hole and found tonnes of new screens. Lummocks. I did eventually get to the end, by the way. There are no end-of-level guardians, but you do have to have collected all the records along the way, otherwise the exit is locked.
Collision detection is very poor. It's block detection - so if you're in the same character square as a baddy, you've had it. Really annoyingly, some of them, like the snail, are irregularly shaped, which means you have to avoid them like the plague rather than being able to skip skilfully over them. Is this fair? No. (Bit of a rhetorical question, then. Ed) So just to avoid giving you a nasty shock like last time, let me warn you I'm reaching in to my big bag of Disgruntled Reviewer's Terribly Apt Words and I'm producing the phrase (rattle rattle) 'odds', 'stacked', 'against' and 'you'. Okay? Here we go. DJ Puff's Volcanic Caper, eh? The odds are stacked against you and no mistake, matey.
Considering the time spent 'in development' (or possibly 'in a drawer') it's a wonder that DJ Puff is so bad. The level of playability is about this big (makes very, very small ring with finger and thumb) and lasting appeal is non-existent. You just find yourself sitting and shouting things at the screen - things like 'But I was miles away' and 'My eyes hurt' and 'I bet your records are all by Undercover'. If you want to experience an eight-way scrolling shoot-'em-up, get Turrican or, indeed, Stuntman Seymour. Just look on the latter as a cleaned-up, polished and generally reworked version of DJ Puff. Which it probably is. (You scamp, you. Ed)

Verdict: 40%
Review by Jonathan Nash