So, every Christmas I dust off the Xbox 360, connect to the plasma screen and start playing the latest BIG game of the moment. Right from beginning  I get completely hooked, reminding me of happier times when all I had to care about was getting the next pizza in and who was going to pay for the beer. That’s right. Student life was tough.

This time round the game was Assassin’s Creed 2. After about two weeks I completed it and basked in the glory of tremendous self satisfaction. We’ll, sort of. Although I’d reached the end of the game and seen the final credits, I had in fact only completed 90%  – as the game insisted on reminding me. I now have to ‘waste’ another two weeks of my life because there’s still people to meet and puzzles to crack. I’ve calculated that to achieve ultimate nirvana with my extra 10% I need to spend another two weeks pursuing these pixels. It’s sad, I know, but I just might end up doing it.

You see, for me, it’s not the game at all that gets me hooked. I only need some vague rumour of a plot, some rough pixelated outline of a character or dull plod of a soundtrack and I’m in there raving with the best of them.

Because I remember the days of Commodore 64 cassette tapes. I remember struggling for thirty minutes trying to get the bloody thing to load. I remember staring at the cassette cover wishing that the artwork displayed would match the pathetic pixels I eventually saw on the screen. What you saw was always something different, but the games never really disappointed. You still played for two, four or six hours a day. Because, gaming was new and exciting. And it’s still new and exciting.

I love it. Computer/console games rule ok.

Gauntlet: I used to spend hours playing this game.

Assassin’s Creed 2: I used to spend hours playing this game. I may spend more.