They say you should never go back to old favourites, right? Age peeling off the layers of rose-tinted beauty and all that. For me, doing the whole trip down memory lane thing happens reasonably often and so I am used to a dose or two of disappointment now and again. You’d expect continued letdowns to be enough to blunt the rather hollow feeling it gives over time, but as Parappa the Rapper ably proves, this is certainly not the case. In fact, I am feeling so downbeat that as I type this review I’m slumped over so far that I am practically pressing the keys with my chin. Ho-hum.

As you’ve probably gone and guessed, I’m none too chipper about the PSP version of Parappa the Rapper. You see, time is indeed a cruel mistress, and in this case it has struck a blow close to my heart. I was one amongst a surprisingly large amount of people who, at Christmas 1997, spent most of his time forsaking Lara Croft and her second adventure and instead partaking in a musical quest to help a rapping dog go out with a sunflower. At the time it was a fresh, unique game type, with the lack of longevity (just six levels, folks) being papered-over by the whacky flat-as-a-pancake graphical style, utterly bizarre range of characters and annoyingly memorable tunes.

If you were one of those for whom Parappa’s charm passed you by first time around, a simple explanation of how it all works is in order (courteous bloke, aren’t I?). You play the role of Parappa, a rapping dog who wears an orange beanie and whose best friend is a DJ Bear who loves eating and always wears pyjamas. Still tagging along for the ride? Good stuff. Parappa is besotted with a girl named Sunny Funny, and is completely distraught when a classic high-school bully in the form of Joe Chin moves in on his girl. Feeling the need to prove to Sunny that he is the perfect match for her, Parappa sets off on a number of slightly off-kilter adventures to gain new, impressive skills to wow her.

These adventures form each of the game’s six levels. Be it learning kung-fu from a wise Onion or selling bits and bobs at a flea market with a reggae frog in order to be able to repair his Dad’s car, each level has a tune which your master will lead, with you having to press buttons in a sequence to copy. Along the top of the screen is a little line of dots on which the various button combinations are displayed, and tapping the correct button as a little icon slides over them should see you replicating the rap and getting a good score. It’s classic rhythm action stuff in its most simple form.

Yet, playing the PSP version of Parappa brings up another glaring issue that, on going back to the PSX version, has remained exactly the same in the transition to the small screen. Following the button sequence exactly doesn’t always reward you with a good performance, and to some extent you have to improvise and ‘freestyle’ your way through certain bits of levels. This would be all well and good if the game allowed the player to understand exactly what constituted a ‘good’ rap or otherwise, but the system is far too woolly and often leaves the player with the impression that the game decides on rewarding or punishing a player at random.

This, rather obviously, becomes incredibly frustrating. Tapping your way through the latter trio of levels becomes somewhat of a trial-and-error experience, with what seems like a pretty reasonable rap ending up in you failing the level for no reason. What’s worse is that at times particular sections or lines can be passed by simply mashing the various buttons as much as you can, which mystifyingly racks up the points that tapping out something vaguely in tune seemingly can’t. Thus, the nearer the end of Parappa the Rapper you get, the more of a grind it becomes.

As I said before, this is a genuine shame. The six songs that are packed into the game are in a variety of a styles and brilliantly done, with each being memorable enough for my leaking sieve of a brain to remember them some ten years after having played them for the last time. You could argue that this is in part due to the game being so short that repeated plays were necessary in order to feel like you’d got your money’s worth, and to an extent you’d be right. Still, it’s hard not to crack a smile during some of the game’s more zany moments, and the characters themselves are full of charm.

Which really sums up the tug-of-war between my heart and my head over the score Parappa is going to get. Part of me – the nice, happy part that does my housemates’ washing up and doesn’t mind getting stuck in traffic jams – wants to score the game on its charm, and in some ways on how it was perceived at the time of release. Sadly, today I am in a more realistic mood, and scoring the PSP version of what was one of my favourite titles is something firmly based in the current, not the past. Even at a reduced price (£20 from most reputable outlets), the game doesn’t pack in nearly enough content, and despite offering some (slightly disappointing) mixes of the original songs for free download and sharper graphics, you are left wondering if a third instalment in the series would have been a better choice. Unless you are a Parappa virgin who doesn’t mind a short, bizarre slice of gaming for your money, it’s probably best to steer clear. For those Parappa veterans dreaming of jamming it out with Onion Master again, perhaps some memories are best left untarnished.