Parents. What strange beings they are, but we're fated to deal with them. They make the oddest demands on our precious gaming time, asking us to partake in all manner of distracting activities. But generations are a funny thing. We take a look at a chilling vision of the future with the wheel come full circle...
Michael Foster

Picture the scene. The young gamer, tenderly dispatching suffering demons back to the netherworld with a chaingun, is enjoying life (i.e. gaming) to the full. Suddenly, and without warning, a disturbing bellow emanates from the kitchen. Terrified, the innocent child hits pause and hides behind the sofa. A huge creature, resplendent in horrific flowery leggings and vinyl apron strides purposefully into the room. She cheerfully switches off the unsaved game "to save electricity" and our hero's groan of dismay gives away his position. With a litany of, "Oh there you are you know you should turn off that Space Invaders machine when you're not using it dear come on we're going to the shops and what are you looking so upset for and we'll meet Auntie Joan in Littlewoods to cheer you up so get your coat on and come here while I wipe that chocolate off your face with this hygienic tissue with some spit on it and we'll all spend some quality time as a family," (mothers on a mission have no truck with punctuation and seem to be able to function without drawing breath), our formerly happy young gamer is dragged to the shops.

All this would be fine if:
1. Any of the shops in question were in any way interesting and not invariably full of bored kids being hit for being bored, then being hit for crying.
2. Auntie Joan was anything other than a shrieking harpy with a distressing tendency to gather children up in crushing hugs while planting lipsticky kisses on cheeks and proclaiming how much you've grown since last Tuesday.
3. You wouldn't much rather be dispatching demons to the netherworld with a chaingun.