The Punchdrunk of Videogames

Hitman Theatre

On the debut episode of the new podcast I’m co-hosting (plug plug plug) I briefly touched on how the game Hitman reminds me of immersive theatre legends Punchdrunk. I’d actually written an article about the subject a few weeks beforehand and forgotten to publish it! Have a read below, and if you haven’t played Hitman or seen it in action, have a quick look at my attempt at a one-try, limited time mission, then read on:

I had the great pleasure of seeing Punchdrunk’s The Drowned Man a couple of times when it was on in London. It was a revelation – truly immersive theatre. A building had been stuffed with interesting, weird, David Lynchian things going on for me (and a lot of other people) to explore as we fancied.

The first time I went, I entered through the main space, masked and anonymous of course, then found a door and started exploring. Within minutes I was lost in labyrinthine corridors, hearing snatches of conversation that piqued my interest but didn’t quite deter me from my wanderings. Then I happened upon a red-draped room with a black and white tiled floor. Some kind of party was going on. Music started to play and the whole party segued into a strange, lurching, leering dance routine. I was hooked.

When I returned for a second visit, I knew the lay of the land. I followed specific conversations at specific times. I came to understand at least some of what was going on. I knew that if I reached the feuding couple at the right time, I’d be able to witness their fight through the medium of dance. Downstairs in the orgiastic party I would see the temptations being thrust at the ‘hero’ of the piece. It all connected, but I had to pick and choose. It wasn’t possible to take it all in, to explore every option.

I’ve just experienced something very similar in a videogame. There’s a case to be made that Punchdrunk has many similarities with games anyway, from the themes of exploration and the player/visitor’s own agency within the world to the creation of a fully realised location that you can inspect from every angle. Some of the (dare I say it?) Walking Simulator games give a similar feel. Wandering around Everybody’s Gone To The Rapture, tugging at threads and seeing where they lead is definitely close. But one game has come even closer to replicating that experience: Hitman.

I hadn’t played a Hitman game until a few weeks ago. I’m not really a stealth afficianado so always put the series in the ‘not my kind of thing’ category. Then, after seeing  ‘let’s play’ videos and hearing endless praise on the Idle Thumbs podcast, I decided to take the plunge and try the latest in the series for myself.

And it’s brilliant in so many ways. Unlike Everybody’s Gone To The Rapture and its ilk, Hitman presents a busy, bustling alive world. That’s not a criticism of EGTTR, by the way – that game specifically presents a beautiful, heartbreaking loneliness. Rather, it’s what brings Hitman closer to Punchdrunk’s theatrical exploits.

Stroll into the Paris fashion show in the opening episode and you’re an inscrutable, blank-faced guest – much like the masks Punchdrunk guests wear. Over the buzz of conversation you might hear an interesting titbit, an argument perhaps, or furtive whispers. So you follow where the voices lead, through grand corridors and off-limits backstage areas. You see the glamour and how the glamour is created.

Of course you’re not allowed in all areas, so you must track down disguises, further anonymous masks, to avoid raising eyebrows and drawing attention. This show isn’t about you after all. This show stars Novikov and Margolis, you’re simply an anonymous onlooker tugging threads, following stories.

Live, immersive theatre has its perils. What if a member of the public dashes through the middle of a scene? It’s the same in Hitman – you can blend in perfectly, behaving just like whatever mask you’re wearing should behave before sneaking away unseen, or you can run through the middle of a crowd disrupting for just a moment the illusion of a living world. In theatre the show must go on, and so too in Hitman.

The big difference is that in Hitman you’re not there as an observer and occasional minor participant. The closest I came to being personally involved in the story at The Drowned Man was being taken to one side by a performer, led by the hand down a secret passageway and having a one-on-one interaction while my fellow visitors wondered why I’d been singled out. In Hitman, you’re there with a purpose. It’s not look-but-don’t-touch; it’s look-then-touch-swiftly-and-viciously. The show will go on if you do nothing, but you’re there expressly to stop the show. To disrupt the perfect theatrical evening. Agent 47 is a heckler. A troll.

Returning to being singled out at The Drowned Man, that came about because I knew it was coming. It was on my second visit, so I knew someone was going to get picked and inveigled my way to be in the right place at the right time. Just like how I now know how to find the Sheik at the Paris fashion show and be in the right place at the right time to infiltrate the auction of secrets. Done well, immersive theatre has immense re-visit value. That’s something games have known for a long time and brings particular depth to Hitman.

Hitman may not (so far, at any rate – we’re only a few episodes in) have the Lynchian weirdness that Punchdrunk conjured up, but I can return to it again and again, finding new secrets, different pathways and strange characters every time. And where Punchdrunk’s storytelling revolved around visceral bursts of dance, Hitman relies on swift flares of violence before a sheen of normality, however fabricated, descends again.

Films and videogames are often compared, and of course one is often remade as another (seldom well *koff* Hitman *koff*). But perhaps we’re missing a trick. What if theatre and games are closer siblings than film and games? What experiences could that lead to? It’s surely no coincidence that Hitman’s marketing revolved around an interactive theatrical experience.

So what theatrical tie-ins should we expect? And which plays are begging out for the game treatment? Why is it that games seem to be the one medium Shakespeare hasn’t yet breached? Maybe Assassin’s Creed: Dunsinane will be the next instalment in that series. Or how about Hitman: Verona?

For more on games, check out The Conversation Tree.

 

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A Sketch and A Podcast

I’ve got a couple of exciting developments to report, which makes a nice change!
It’s an oft-used mantra that creativity comes from adversity. I haven’t really noticed a direct correlation in that for myself, other than a bout of songwriting while I was deeply unhappy in my late teens/early twenties. However, that’s all changed!

Like many of my friends, I’ve been bemoaning the recent political developments in the UK. So much so, that I put pen to paper and wrote a few topical/political sketches and songs. After a couple of non-starters I sent some sketches over to NewsRevue.

If you’re unfamiliar with NewsRevue, it’s a theatrical topical sketch show at the Canal Café Theatre that has been running for two decades. Every couple of months the cast and director are refreshed, and sketches are chosen on a weekly basis, or more often depending on what’s going on in the news. I even had an unsuccessful audition for their cast many moons ago! If you’re London-based I’d recommend heading down, it’s always a fun evening.

Anyway, the first bit of good news I’ve got to report is that one of my sketches was used. So now I’m a performed comedy writer, which is pretty cool. Just one sketch for now, but it’s a nice boost in what’s been a relatively unsuccessful year writing-wise.

On to the second exciting thing – I’m co-hosting a new podcast. You’ve no doubt noticed that my most recent few posts have been about videogames. Well rather than hijack my blog to be primarily about games, I’ve set up The Conversation Tree Podcast with my partner in crime Lydia Palmese.

We’re both narrative junkies and will be focussing more on analysis than reviewing per se. We’re particularly interested in how games reflect society and vice versa and will be looking at mixture of old, new, and upcoming titles. Given that we’re avid cinema-goers we’ll also be tackling films in the same vein to a degree, and even some of the odd events we pootle to around London town.

You can find the first episode of the podcast here or over on iTunes. Over the coming weeks I’ll work on getting it up in a few more places besides. You can also follow @TheConvoTree on Twitter if you’re feeling sociable (as well as my @BornToPootle account if you haven’t already). New episodes will be up every fortnight and feedback is more than welcome. We’re both new to podcasting, so tips will be gratefully received.

How on earth do you write a game?

Notebook next to laptop, ready to write a game

If you read my last post you’ll know that I’m part way through making/writing/developing a game for the very first time – doing everything from the art to the coding to the VO myself. So just to manage any expectations: the title of this post is a genuine question. I don’t have the answer…

I’ve written for a fair few different media up to now; not with massive success, I’m the first to admit. I’ve got a completed novel that’s done the agent rounds (dig into the previous articles if you want to read up on that process), other novels at varying stages of completion, short stories, a couple of play scripts gestating, an experimental TV episode, even a few scenes for a rom-com film script. All of these share one key feature (other than lack of publication): they’re not interactive.

Even though writing for the stage is very different to writing a novel, there is that lack of interactivity tying them together. When a play is performed the actors and director will of course find different things in there, in just the same way that a novel will tickle people’s imaginations differently. They all begin, have a middle and have an end. The actions between the beginning and end are utterly predetermined.

There are exceptions – the Alan Ayckbourn play that changes on the toss of a coin; Fighting Fantasy style adventure books; Punchdrunk-style immersive theatre… But that’s not the kind of territory my writing has taken me into so far.

So. I repeat my question. How on earth do you write for games? And I’m thinking here of narrative-driven games more specifically.

Maybe the big con is the illusion of non-linearity? Some games don’t try to escape the linear – I’ve been playing through Wolfenstein: The New Order and the Uncharted trilogy recently and they’re fairly straightforward. Cut scene, interactive shooty (or climby) bit, cut scene, interactive shooty (or climby) bit and so on and so forth.

Alternatively, there are games like the Walking Dead where choice forms the central interaction (well, choice and quick time events). This is more the style of game that I’m interested in making, so I’m going to ponder a little deeper.

There’s a trick in this kind of game, which isn’t a criticism – I absolutely adore Telltale’s style and what they’ve done for narrative games. Having replayed a couple of their titles, the impact of the choices is sometimes less than may be imagined. Huge SPOILERS coming for The Walking Dead Season 1…

Whatever you do as Lee, whoever you sacrifice or save, the game will still resolve in pretty much the same way. You’ll go to the farm, then the coast. Clementine will be taken. Lee will get bitten. Clementine will wind up on her own. That said, the emotional journey Lee and Clementine (and the player) take will be different each time as the choices change.

This is interesting, and starts to move the narrative technique away from other media to a degree. In writing fiction, one of the big lessons is to ensure thatthe plot spirals out of the characters’ actions. If in a game the characters can take various different actions but the overall plot remains the same then how does this work? Why doesn’t everything feel contrived in Telltale games and their ilk?

I think the answer is a combination of a few things: firstly, on initial playthrough the player can be unaware of which actions are causing which consequences. So there’s the potential for pulling the wool over a player’s eyes. There’s a great example of the opposite happening in Witcher 2, by the way. Half way through the game you get to choose between following Roache or Iorveth. This takes Geralt and the player to a radically different area – a whole massive chunk of the game and narrative won’t be accessed by players who only play through once. Well done CD Projekt Red! Both options are well worth playing through, if you haven’t already.

I digress though. The second point to consider is which choices the player is given. And how that fits in with the various levels of plot. Is The Walking Dead a game about a man finding a young girl alone following a zombie outbreak, falling in with a group of survivors and doing what he can to protect the girl and the group? Or is it about the relationship between the man and the girl? The plot for the former is set largely in stone, with a few minor tweaks along the way. The latter though is completely mutable and up to the player.

Firewatch (which I’ve written about before), created by some of the team that worked on The Walking Dead, is an example of this to the nth degree. The plot is utterly unchangeable, and there isn’t really the illusion of choice about it; instead the interaction hinges on the relationship you build with a voice on the other end of the radio. Having chosen the protagonist’s backstory at the beginning you then get to decide how this affects his social interactions. At the end of the game you’ll have a character that may feel completely different from someone else’s, but will have gone to all the same places and ‘done’ all the same things.

Last thing to consider – the quality of the writing. Telltale’s Tales From The Borderlands is worth a mention here. Playing through, it felt like the choices were fewer and for the most part less dramatic than The Walking Dead, but by gum it’s great fun. That’s not to detract from The Walking Dead of course, which also features top quality writing. Tales… just elevates things even further. I wouldn’t really have cared if it wasn’t at all interactive – I loved the characters, the premise, the dialogue, the acting (another big plus). And it features the very finest gun fight in the history of everything – without a single gun.

So perhaps linearity isn’t necessarily as old hat as I thought. This is good news, as the game I’m making features a straightforward objective – the protagonist has to escape a ship that’s crashing – but how they achieve that could vary. The main interaction is in three branching dialogue scenes with different characters in our hero’s way, and the options chosen will lead to success or failure. It’ll all be over in a few minutes, but hopefully will be worth a replay to see what other options lead to. Also, worth mentioning that I am in no way comparing the quality of what I’m working on to the games mentioned above. Mine is a doodle that those developers could knock out in half an hour. But it’s a start.

Where the trick lies is remembering all the standard narrative plot structure stuff and lacing the interactivity around that. It’s not something I’ll manage this time around, but definitely useful for the future.

@BornToPootle

Writing a Game

A controller for videogames

You may have spotted that I’ve been banging on about games for the last few posts. That’s because I’ve been playing a lot of games. In fact I’ve been doing a lot more of that than reading books. And I’ve been thinking about how narrative works in games. Which has led to the obvious conclusion of trying to write a game.

So that’s what I’ve been up to.

And will be up to for a little while, because my joyful enthusiasm for writing a game has been met with the actual reality of writing a game.

Because games have code.
And graphics.
And sound.
And all kinds of other shenanigans, as well as the, y’know, fun bit of writing some frippery.

But I’m giving it a go and will post the result here when I’m done. First off though, here’s a few initial thoughts.

How the arse does one start making a game? The good news is that there are a shedload of tools available for free these days. Including some pretty impressive pieces of kit. Like the Unreal Engine.

That’s the engine that games like the next Shenmue and Psychonauts sequels are being built around. It’s bona fide triple A. Also, hurrah for Psychonauts 2! So, being a rookie game developer, the engine responsible for massively ambitious games seemed like the very best place to start.

Yeah. Right.

There are plenty of tutorials knocking around (of varying quality – one was by a chap who had no idea how to use it, but decided to upload a tutorial anyway. Weird), but I swiftly realised that it may have been just a tad ambitious. Particularly as I was missing the most important thing: an idea.

Stupid, huh? I wouldn’t start writing a novel or short story or play without a decent idea of what I was trying to accomplish, so how on earth could I start fiddling around with game design without a plan.

So I had a bit of a think about the games I’ve enjoyed the most recently – Life Is Strange, Witcher 3, The Stanley Parable to name a few – and what common themes I could glean. I’ve also, while looking for some light relief, been trying Wolfenstein: The New Order. It’s a standard linear shooter; very well put together, but I really have struggled to engage with it as it’s so… well… linear. So there’s the answer: I wanted to make something with options and choice.

An idea formed, and after a frank discussion with myself about my art skills (C at GCSE was bloody generous) I settled on an engine called Gamemaker Studio. There have been big games made with it – Undertale and Hotline Miami for example – but it seems a bit easier to get to grips with. There’s also a massive tutorial community on YouTube which is great and much needed.

And so for the last few weeks I’ve been teaching myself the basics of coding, getting increasingly lost in ‘if’ statements, plus learning about pixel art. And somewhere in there I’ve written a load of dialogue and recorded half of it in a variety of silly voices.

Watch this space.

But don’t hold your breath.

@BornToPootle

 

Scary Games Vs Scary Films

Scaredface

Such scare. So fear.

I’m a big horror fan.

That’s a meaningless statement really. You might reasonably think that I have seen all the Saw films, beaten a path to anything Wes Craven and have a stack of Stephen King novels on the bookshelves. Only one of those is actually the case (King – what a writer!).

Instead, I went through the obligatory video nasty phase as a teenager/early 20-something, got caught up on Japanese and Korean horror films and have fallen in love with more recent(ish) efforts like Kill List and The Babadook. The horror genre is a varied thing, with much to offer. Including games.

I’ve tried my hand at a couple of horror games of late, and I’m not sure what to think. Not because I didn’t find them scary. Quite the opposite, actually. Possibly they’re too scary. Or is it something else?

The only film I have ever left because I was too scared was Return To Oz. I was 4. Jesus, that scared me. I finally watched the whole thing just a couple of years ago, and was pleased to find that it’s still creepy as all hell. But since then, I’ve never left a horror film unfinished, be it Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Evil Dead (though I should have left part way through the turgid remake) or A Tale Of Two Sisters. But the two games I’ve played recently? I don’t think I can finish them.

Which games am I actually talking about? Alien Isolation and Soma. Both sci-fi horror, both high production values, both really high on my must-play list last year. And I really like both of them, to a point.

Warning – there are some spoilers ahead, more for Alien Isolation as I really haven’t got that far in Soma

Alien Isolation looks great. It sounds great. And for a long time it’s a fun horror experience. Being stalked through a (sort of) empty space station by a seldom-glimpsed iconic monster is a real thrill. It’s pretty much exactly what I hoped for, even if a lot of my playing time was spent looking out from cupboards.

AlienIsolation

Cupboard simulator 2014

But, as in the film Alien, there are androids. Not one bumbling-then-oh-shit-he’s-evil android, but a whole load of them. And the hero, Ellen Ripley’s daughter, Amanda, starts to pick up a few weapons to deal with them. Never much ammo though. And that’s when things started to go downhill.

The alien isn’t killable. Not with the weapons, at least. You can drive it off with a flamethrower, but it’ll keep coming back. Fine. The androids though, them you can kill. It takes a bit of off effort, but they go down eventually. And so the grind began. Sometimes I killed the androids, sometimes they killed me. And suddenly all sense of fear has gone, replaced with something different: stress.

By the time I’d stop-started and died-killed my way through a room full of androids and dropped down into an alien hive I felt exasperated rather than exhilarated. And now here’s something new – killable little facehuggers. And the grind continues. I’d trade all my weapons for a good cupboard to hide in…

So far in Soma it’s a similar-ish experience to early Alien: Isolation. No weapons whatsoever and unknowable beasties patrolling desolate corridors. I’m in. I’m hooked. And then suddenly I’m more stressed than scared and the illusion gently crumbles. My character is perhaps forever stuck hiding around a corner as a monster traipses back and forth ahead. My character isn’t too scared to move, he just can’t be bothered. He’ll stay listening to the creepy sound effects and having a good time that way.

The more I think about it, the more I wonder if it’s something about being able to die and retry that spoils horror games for me. In a film you’re stuck. It’s going to carry on no matter how scared you get, it has a momentum that you can’t stop.

The last chunk of Kill List for example, down in the tunnels in the dark, disoriented and being chased by people neither the audience or main characters quite understand, is thrilling. What about Pulse? There’s a ghost woman walking in ghastly slow motion towards the main character, stumbling in slow-mo. It’s weird and horrible and unnerving as holy hell. But what if the character bungled their escape, and instead of the film ending they had to try it again. And again. And again. The fear would dissipate. It would become stressful. Then annoying.

There are alternatives though. Bioshock managed its horrors brilliantly – there are moments of the first game that I remember as clearly as any great film scare. It’s certainly more action-centric than Alien or Soma, so a slightly different vibe I suppose. I enjoyed Until Dawn recently – the idea that there was no do-over, no reloading if a character dies worked well, adding to in-the-moment tension without becoming merely stressful.

So what horror games can you recommend that don’t trade fear for stress? Layers of Fear looks intriguing…

Maybe I should just get better at games. That’s probably the best answer.

@BornToPootle

 

Games as storytelling tools

I’ve written before about using videogames as storytelling tools – specifically Fable 2 and the awesome stories you can tell away from the main thrust of the game. Well, in addition the shorter narrative-centric games I mentioned in my last post, I’ve also just finished GTA 5 (as with Witcher 3 which I mentioned last week, ‘finished’ is something of a misnomer for games of this size) and it’s got some great tools for storytellers.

My love for Fable comes in part from the interactions you can have – you can get married, go off on a quest and then find that your wife has left you. What you do then is up to you; it’s not important to the ‘proper’ plot, but if you want you can decide how your character would respond. Go to the local tavern, get roaring drunk and pull a barmaid? Give up adventuring for a while to live a life of celibacy and wood-chopping? Have a breakdown and start massacring innocents? Belch everywhere you go? It’s absolutely up to your own creativity.

GTA 5 is slightly different. Sure, when certain things happened to the main characters I updated their outfits and hairstyles to better suit their mental (and financial) states. I made sure they listened to the radio stations they liked rather than my favourites all the time. But although there are myriad things to do in the main GTA 5 game, the way you actually interact with the world doesn’t give that sense of creative freedom…

…until unleashing the director mode and Rockstar Editor. And it’s utterly brilliant.

In director mode you can select from hundreds of different characters in the game (including animals after a bit of unlocking), as well as your own customised characters from the online game, and record them doing… whatever. With all manner of gestures and dialogue, as well as the ability to add props into the world, it’s creative paradise. Once you’ve recorded some action, you can then completely edit the hell out of it, changing camera angles, speed, adding music, splicing scenes together to create whatever you want.

My first foray into the editor was a simple ‘I wonder what I can do’ type scene. Playing to the cliché, I attempted to blow some things up and cause a bit of mayhem. Here are the results – ‘attempted’ is the important word.

That was fun to put together, but ultimately I fancied doing something non-violent. I’ve been a longtime GTA fan, but as games look ever more real I find some aspects more problematic than I used to. Strippers are paradoxically less fun to visit when they look like strippers rather than polygons. Weird, right? And while the blackly comic tone mollifies some of my qualms, not everything needs to come down to violence. So that’s where my next video came from.

Here’s the audition day for Los Santos Community Theatre’s production of Waiting For Godot:

I shan’t expect Hollywood (should that be Vinewood?) to call any time soon! That said, the latter clip only took a couple of hours of messing around, and I haven’t really dug deep into the tools available on the editor yet. I’m going to try a few more non-violent videos and see what I can come up with – no idea how it would work yet, but some kind of rom-com is quite appealing…

@BornToPootle

 

Replayability and Everybody’s Gone to the Rapture

image

I recently wrote about the film Crimson Peak, which I look forward to watching again as soon as I can. I’ll know the plot of course, but rewatching films is about more than that. It’s about reliving the mood, finding nuances and details or just poking that bit of the brain the film poked first time. So, having just today finished the game Everybody’s Gone To The Rapture I was quite surprised that many reviews mentioned it wouldn’t be very replayable.

For those who don’t know it, Rapture is set in 1980s Shropshire. You’re tasked with exploring a deserted village to piece together what’s happened to everyone after an ‘event’ (and who exactly you are). Rather than being an actiony shooter or stat poking rpg (nowt wrong with either of those, by the by) it really is just about exploration. You wander sedately around the village and the surrounding countryside getting glimpses into the last days of the people who’d once lived there and what happened to them.

image

It is, quite simply, beautiful. The village and landscape, trees in bloom and bluebells poking up through the earth, look heavenly (pun very much intended). There’s so much rich detail, from scrawled signs for parish meetings and pub menus to discarded books and magazines. The scenes that you witness, played out in points of light coalescing, are up there with the best writing and acting the medium has to offer. The music and sound design are so wonderful that they could do with a blog post to themselves, but for now let’s just say they’re lovely (and eerie) in every way. It’s a game that makes you feel both lonely and loved at the same time.

And that’s why I want to replay it. There won’t be a different outcome if I play it again, though there’s a chance I missed some clues along the way. But it’s not that kind of game. It’s not a mystery in the common sense – it’s pretty clear what’s happened in the village – rather it’s about fleshing out the detail for yourself. Wondering who these people were and what they wanted. And would they have been happy if they got it?

So yes, I know what’ll happen, but why would that stop me wanting to replay the game? I’m not one for endless rereads or rewatches of favourite books and films – I’ve read Grant Morrison’s The Invisibles probably three times (and mentioned it on the blog here), Terry Pratchett’s Men At Arms five or so. My favourite films, Harvey and Donnie Darko, I probably haven’t reached double figures between them. But I do go back.

Less so in games, though – not counting things like Civ which are geared less towards individual stories. That got me wondering why. Sure, I’ve played through each of the Fable games a couple of times (Fable 2 is The Best Game Ever though – read about why here) and Witcher 2 as well (Second Best Game Ever – I’m working on Witcher 3 at the mo FYI). But there aren’t that many others I’ve actually completed multiple playthroughs for.

Time is a factor; some games are just too huge to allow for it – I’ve started a second Skyrim playthrough, a second Mass Effect trilogy character and many more, but have yet to be able to really commit to them, let alone follow the narrative all the way through. Rapture is probably do-able in five or six hours rather than the thirty to two hundred hours some games demand.

But I think the real killer is time in a different way. I first read Men At Arms in the mid 90s somewhere and have reread it around 5 times. So that averages to once every four years. I first saw Harvey in 2004 or thereabouts, so that’s rewatched once every couple of years (but is considerably shorter than most books or games). Unfortunately the lifespan of a games console generation is relatively short – the technology moves on and (seeing as backwards compatibility is increasingly unfashionable) the older games become either unplayable or the reason for carting a car boot-full of consoles with you every time you move house.

Things are changing in that regard, with endless HD remasters to re-buy (I figure Doublefine have earned the right to ask me to pay for DoTT twice in 20 years), and perhaps streaming options too, but will I be able to revisit Everybody’s Gone To The Rapture in 20 years and enjoy it in the same way I can with books and films? Or will the game itself have gone to the rapture?

Are there any narrative games you put alongside favourite books and films? And if not, why do you reckon that is (assuming you’re a gamer – I think I can guess the answer if you’re not!)? Also, interesting to note that my other half absolutely hates Rapture – if you’ve tried it what did you think?

@BornToPootle