Writer man for magazines about stuff, mostly about games. Okay only about games
I’m a popular, cool guy who has plenty of good sex. In fact you might say that I’m something of an expert at sex, or that I am, to use a new word that I have just this second invented, a “sexpert”.
These days, in this horrifying new era of ethical games journalism, it's important for writers to be totally upfront by divulging every aspect of their personal lives, everybody they've ever been friends with, every secret they've ever held and anybody they might have kissed along the way. So before we proceed with this article about a puzzle game that I like, I feel the need to disclose a number of potential conflicts of interest.
I'm always on trains. Electric trains, steam trains, nightmare trains powered by blood. You name a kind of train and I'm probably on it right now, zooming along the railways at the kinds of speeds trains usually go at. I'm also from London, a city famously infested by burrowing underground trains that roam through deep subterranean tunnels in search of platforms to stop at.
Guildford is to videogames studios what Cardiff is to interdimensional Torchwood aliens, spawning approximately one new developer a week through what we can only assume is a quantum rift in the fabric of spacetime. Game devs are everywhere in Guildford, hanging out of lampshades, skateboarding along benches, helping old ladies cross the street.
Molyneux craned his long arms behind his head and picked up a cardboard box without breaking eye contact. “I’ve invented something brilliant and it’s inside this box, Steven. What’s inside this box could change your life forever,” Molyneux continued, his eyes becoming wet, “and all I ask is that you please believe in me and respect me.”
The card game is here! The card game is here! Gather up your cards and get ready for the showdown of the century, because the card game is here and there’s nothing you or I can do or say to make the card game not be here.
Alien: Isolation is a first person stealth horror game in which you, a human full of the blood and guts you require to survive, must hide from and evade an eight foot tall alien creature who wishes to poke a hole in you such that all of your blood and guts spill out on to the floor.
Microsoft have just bought Minecraft developers Mojang for the brain-staggering sum of $2.5 billion, a number so large that if it were written out in full it would take up at least a couple of inches on a page.
The Grand Theft Auto V box art has just been revealed, which is Big Videogames News, the sort that causes all of the videogames news websites to hoist up their skirts and run around in a sort of "news musth", butting their news antlers together in competition for the highest Google ranking.
This is a true story: last night while searching through JJ Abrams' bins for some of his discarded film scripts, I came across some of JJ Abrams' discarded film scripts.
n 1986 engineers at Sinclair generated a fully three-dimensional, artificially intelligent clone of Peter Sissons, which activists at the time described as "a sentient program, one that it could be argued has its own thoughts and feelings, with deeply troubling philosophical and spiritual ramifications for the entire human race. What happens next may be the measure of our species. Have we become God? Or something worse?"
Heeyyyy guuuyyysss, there’s a problem with my Splinter Cell preview, in that I became extremely nauseous while playing it and had to stop to go throw up. That’s not a comment on the quality of the game, I'm simply saying that my body decided to stop functioning normally during the...
I don't know where to begin. Maybe here: there's a bus-sized, chitinous space-demon tearing our space station apart, oxygen is being haemorrhaged through gaping holes on either side of the blood-drenched corridor in which I stand alone.
As surely as a watched dog never boils, a new release from Ubisoft will inevitably be split into myriad editions — or a myriad of editions, if you like to freestyle the English language — each one containing just a tiny fraction of the entire game. Watch_Dogs will arrive on...
Steve Ballmer staggers on stage to the sound of screaming pigs. He is skeletal and arachnid. His naked pink abdomen is scored with faces of colleagues frozen in agony while three of his eight pillar-thick legs span the stage, towering over Don Mattrick.