It’s embarrassing, and should only be played alone under cover of darkness, ideally with a full moon glinting through the window. You can even pay a lute-wielding bard to sing you a risible sub-Wicker Man song. It’s what used to be known in the trade as a “real ale RPG,” with a hey-nonny-nonny and a flagon of mead. It’s not as if it’s even remotely original, all clanking armour and dismal villages riddled with putty-faced quest-givers. But it’s gobbledegook on such an epic scale that you can’t help but get sucked in. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly what makes Skyrim so addictive, as it is of course absolute gobbledegook. And it’s not just other games that Skyrim supplants it’s everyday life, personal hygiene, and ultimately basic human decency. A devastating gaming presence, such is the all-encompassing pervasiveness of Skyrim that a mere three days after its release, Modern Warfare 3 was already a footnote, while the new Assassin’s Creed and Saints Row The Third were tossed aside as mere distractions. ![]() ![]() ![]() And then you get up the next day and do it all again. In reality, a man on a motorbike brings it to your house, you put in it the Xbox, and a full 12 hours later you stumble into bed riddled with self loathing, having literally spent half a day in a fantasy world. (Pocket-lint) - How do you review a game that lasts for months? Ideally, on a generous day rate.
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