Every now and then I reflect on the statistically determined average age of a Gamer – what is it now, 36, 37? Please let it still be under 40 – and realise with alarm that, by extrapolation, a lot of the people reading this probably have children. Augh, children! Please excuse me while I go stand on a chair, clutching a broom. I’ve never understood the craze for generating smaller versions of yourself. It’s one of those weirder subcultures you read about in the papers, but rarely observe in daily life.
I do, however, understand the appeal of same-screen co-op games like Run From Mummies - which, being a bloodless comedy dungeon romp, seems like a fair pick for those encumbered with boisterous selfspawn. Don’t worry, the “mummies” of the title are just regular old disembowelled corpses wrapped in cloth, not those sinister, non-embalmed “mothers” you’ve been hearing about down the grocers.
