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My budget for making movies is three pounds per film, I usually spend it on donuts. For my Mass Effect 2 review I bought a roll of white bin liners and some cellotape. I taped myself into the costume (as documented on camera) and walked up and down the road loading my car with instruments.
The woman next door asked me if I was dressed as a snowman. I was pretty deflated by that. I had to shout at her because she is old and can't hear so well and she had to shout at me because I had a bag over my head. It took us to a new level of friendship.
Driving was a challenge. I had to turn my whole head about like one of those dogs in a flea collar to see anything, and everyone else was turning their whole heads around to see me. Not so many astronauts driving around Devon these days.
It happened to be the windiest day in recorded history and I was on the highest point of Dartmoor wearing a hundred plastic bags. At one point I actually took off. Alas I didn't get it on camera. Wearing my bag helmet in that wind was like being punched in the ears relentlessly by those annoying people who rustle crisp packets at the cinema.
I got it into my head that I needed to climb up to the highest tor to get a shot of me playing the glockenspiel. The views would be amazing. But the tor was much further away than it looked and by the time I got to the top it was almost dark. I could hardly see out of my little peep hole and I tripped over and almost fell off, clinging to the edge of a rock like Nathan Drake. Once I'd got myself back on my feet with the agility and strength of Desmond Miles I set the camera up only to watch it repeatedly fall flat on its face in the wind.
I wanted to get the amazing moon in the shot but once I put my body in front of the camera you couldn't tell I was on top of a tor, you couldn't see the amazing view at all. My costume had almost blown off entirely. I couldn't get through a take of the song without laughing hysterically at my situation and the bag-helmet flying violently into my mouth and nose. I suddenly wondered if I'd ever get home alive. It was now pitch black. I had left my phone back at the car, which was miles away. I had no torch and I was paranoid I was going to drop my keys down between the rocks as I climbed down. There are no pockets in a plastic-bag-space-suit and I was carrying a camera and glockenspiel in my wind-bitten numb fingers.
Mainly I was gutted that I hadn't got the shot I wanted. This is what it must be like to be a camerawoman out in the wild risking your life to get shots of lions fighting with bears, I thought. And almost as important. Like a wild bear I ripped myself free of my bag-cage (oh the relief) and ran down the wild landscape like a lioness following my own scent back to the car. The smell of old donut bags is a powerful thing. Thanking the light of the moon I took my shoes and socks off and ran around in the dark mud feeling alive. It felt a fitting celebration for my song about death.
I'd also like to pay homage to my housemates Netha and Daisy-dog. Netha for her ability to embrace the absurd with such style and for her excellent craft tips (plastic bag space-suit and rocket made from loo-roll holders were her ideas), and Daisy for knowing how to lick a girl when she's down.
Watch, listen. Watch.
I took a ride out to the future to find I came here to die I flew my spaceship out across the galaxy to find I'm more alive than I care to see, than I dare to believe If you see an illusive man, taking hold of your right hand Then you know your time has come So choose your weapons well my friend Cause it all comes out in the bitter end In every moment you make your choice I signed myself up for a deadly mission, to die to my story I play with the edges and feel the discomfort Of the depth, of the breadth of my shadow To see the light, in the darkness of my night If you see an illusive man, taking hold of your right hand Then you know your time has come So choose your weapons well my friend Cause it all comes out in the bitter end In every moment you make your choice Are you prepared to die Letting go of why In this your only life In every moment?
With so many different perspectives it can be hard to know where to start - a little like walking into a crowded pub. Sorry about that.
But so far we've not found a way to streamline our review output - there's basically too much of it. So, rather than dilute things for newcomers we have decided to live with the hubbub while helping new readers find the columnists they will enjoy.
Our columnists each focus on a particular perspective and fall into one of the following types of gamers: