When I was a kid I owned Half Life for three hours. It’s by no coincidence this timeframe aligns with how long it’d take for my soft plump legs to carry me back and forth from the shop where I’d feverishly fondle those boxes of potential glee, pluck a few of the best from their nest, hold them to my chest so as others could not grasp the games I’d graced with esteemed paw-marks, lengthily consider and ultimately identify the finest of the few, install the game and whimper and shiver and tell Mum I needed to go back to town and would she hold me please. Yesterday, Mythrilfan – he of RPS chat fame – bought me Half Life as a ‘gift’. This is no gift, this is the Day of Reckoning. I shall confront it head-on.