Features// Girl Gamer: Goth Fight

So, half an hour in and I'm still on the same lame gun, still healing Rawlings every two minutes and getting increasingly frustrated with the massive skips in game-play as I enter new levels. Being thrust into new situations gives me a terrible sense of déjà vu with my black spots at Exit in Serbia (Okay, I am totally lost. It’s my age, I’m sure. Can anybody help? Old Ed.). At least this time I'm not being roused to find all my friends have 'mysterious' bite marks.

Eventually I am allowed to use other guns and powers by possessing my team mates; a nice idea, if only my team weren't such utter wasters. By the time I get to The Path of Souls (still holding reservations about the capitalisation of that 'the') I'm actually quite happy to watch both teams die.

The game gives me all these commands to give, in a joyously Predator style, but then the team members just ignore me! (I'd have a bit more respect for someone I knew could possess me on a whim.) They have less of a sense of discipline than the Red Dwarf Scutters; charging on ahead when I've quite clearly told them to hold their positions; and throwing themselves in front of pillboxes which I'm trying to subtly destroy from behind.

At least by this time another couple of types of monster have appeared. Apart from the flying ones, it's still of a similar disposition to the rest, not particularly interesting, especially after you've seen a real life tree man. If this is the state of the West's occult armed forces it's no wonder the Russians took such a hammering in WW2. Crowley should jolly well pull his finger out and get some chaos magic on the go - evoke some Barry Scott or something, Cilit Bang'd get this place cleaned up in no time. This team are going to really struggle to defeat the forces of fashion, let alone a whole nether world of evil.

On giving up for the evening and settling back to ponder on it I reflect that maybe it's not me that needs psychoanalysing. As well as that dubious front screen, the main arena of warfare is called The Box (note another, I feel, unnecessary capital) which makes me want to pull Clive aside and ask him about his mother. And not just about how he'll feel when I take Mrs Barker out for a nice seafood platter and then never call her again.