360 Hangovers

My face feels like it’s stuck to the pillow, and there’s a ringing in my ears that isn’t just the alarm. I vaguely remember dreaming about fighting a knight in a train, then eating some chokeberries. I drag my head up and the instant headache and scummy mouth is so repugnant, I assume I must have been drinking. I check my pockets and am nicely surprised; a wodge of cash is still there, there’s no outrageous taxi receipts, no ludicrously priced bills for London cocktails or ladies of the night (slightly cheaper than the cocktails, I hear). Thinking some PR must have been buying the drinks, I stumble into the living room, and the TV’s on. A familiar theme tune bangs out, with Patrick Stewart intoning over the top. Everything clears up. Playing Oblivion ’til three again? On a work night? I wish I’d been out drinking…

I shouldn’t be playing this game this much. I know off by heart the locations of every shop in every city, have run over the map for hours on end, just for kicks and yet, a couple of hundred hours in, I’ve still not completed half the quests, am nowhere near completing the main quest and have only just stopped being a vampire (thanks to the Vile Lair download pack). I’ve not only stopped doing the quests, I’ve started making up my own. Taking pictures of the flowers, seeing how high I can get my bounty, making the largest pile of naked dead people in a city square, and endlessly just exploring dungeons, just to see what’s in there. Oh and lots of running away. I speak to the members of the Thieve’s Guild more than I do my family (but, then, my family aren’t so hot at laundering goods.) I’ve wondered about checking into that clinic in Amsterdam to see if I can cure my addiction.

I recognise now that unless I complete all the quests, I’m never going to be able to let this game go. So, thanks to suggestions from friends, I’m now rebuilding my life around getting the game finished. I now do sit-ups whilst watching the screen, nap at work in my lunch-hour to recoup those precious minutes for later play, and have set up a credits system, where an hour of cooking, cleaning or eating bags me an hour fighting gobbos. I’m even aiming to take up smoking when the quests end just so I’ve got a secondary addiction to take over. The only cloud on the horizon is Bethesda; they insist on realising new, addictive downloads every fricking fortnight, and won’t promise me that they’ll stop doing it because they’re making a nice profit out of me.

Down and Out in London.

I remember little of my dream from last night – something about being praised for my singing, which is pure madness. I’m now officially homeless, of “no fixed address” in the parlance of the time. It’s quite liberating, but also enormously panick-inducing. If anyone has a sofa within an hour’s commute of London that needs forming into the shape of a hairy GreekWelshJewish Mancunian for at least a week’s period, I’m your man. I also do weddings, barmitzvahs, christenings, funerals… Anywhere there’s free food basically.

Good Ship Venus by Loudon Wainwright III is awesome filth, almost Tiger Lilies standards. All must listen!

Famous at last!


Xbox 360 – The Official Magazine – Shivering Isles priced and dated

The Shivering Isle in which this expansion pack is based also boasts a completely different design ethic to the rest of Tamriel, with our own OXM Grill describing it as a “distinctly Alice in Wonderland styling,” in our mammoth preview.

After playing it extensively, he’s sure Oblivion fans are getting value for money. “It’s worth every penny,” he shouted over to us as he ran away from a pursuing band of goblins. “It’s enormous; what you originally think is a fairly small area opens up to reveal towns, dungeons, massive bosses…”

Everyone seems to think I spend all my time in Oblivion running away from Goblins. I mean, that’s true but not what I want people to know. I want them to think how cool I am for playing it, and how nicely arranged my library in Frostcrag Spire is.

Anyway, I completed the Shivering Isles today. You end up with lots of cool shit for knocking it off, believe me!

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Mort Gauge

I’m getting so fucked off with this mortgage thing. The mortgage broker feller, who sounds increasingly sullen every time he rings me, has just told me for the second time that I don’t exist. Apparently, Abbey National, who I’ve been with for 14 years, can’t find any record of my existence at my previous addresses. I told them to check with HSBC. I know I’ve only been with them for 12 years or so, but I’ve kept them more up to date with my movements. Again I get a call saying I’m a non-entity, according to the Abbey Mortgage people. If this continues I will walk around to their office and, with my steel-toecapped boots, show them just how real my existence is by impinging on the physical reality of their testicles. Grr.

Abbey people, or prissy stalkers, if you’re reading; please, this is just frustration I’m sharing with my friends. I’m not about to hurt anyone, unless they really deserve it.

This is how educated PC Zone are.

This is how educated PC Zone are.

Suzie is shouting about Titan Quest, when Will wanders over to correct her as to the location of Agamemnon in the Elysian fields and the story behind his ending up there.

I just overheard Editor Jamie say, “No, we can’t pluralise demo on that page because it’s a homonym for the Greek demos.”

I walk over to ask Log about wine and cheese, only to find him idly browsing Wikipedia’s Mantophasmatodea. When I joked that he’d only gone there because he fancied Wolf off Gladiators (Mantophasmatodea being an order of carnivorous African insects known as gladiators), he bristled smilingly, saying “I’m saddened you think so little of me.”

PC Gamer, trump that!

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