Oh, Hello. Sorry to barge into your young men’s website like this, but… you have girls here? Oh, how charming. Times do change. Oh, deary me. Anyway – I’m John Walker’s nurse, and the only way I could get him to lie down was to promise that I’d transcribe everything he said in his delirious state and put it on the Internet. Oh, I’m blogging? Oh my! What would Mavis say if she saw me now? Anyway! He tells me that the eighteenth game of Christmas is…
…Lara Croft & The Guardian Of Light.
Nursey: Mr Walker! Mr Walker! You must get back in bed immediately!
John: But nurse, there’s no one else. There’s no one else to update the calendar.
Nursey: Mr Walker, I said this to you when you tried to go and feed the orphans their christmas gruel. I said this to you when you went to deliver alms to the poor. I said this to you when you claimed your presence was necessary in the final negotiations to avoid a war between the people of the Earth and the people of the moon. What can be so important about this “Calendar” that demands your immediate attention when you’re incapable of standing and/or breathing?
John: If it’s not completed, we incur the wrath of Horace, and his wrath is infinite. So despite my state, my closeness to death, the disappearance of all my colleagues means only I am able to hold back his anger.
Nursey: Yes, like in all things with Horace. But his understanding is infinite too? What manner of game could be so good to be worth risking your entire life to chronicle in this calendar?
John: It’s Lara Croft & The Guardian Of Light.
Nursey: Crikey! Lara? Do they still make Lara games? I remember them from my youth.
John: But this is a top-down action shooter, that can be played two-player.
Nursey: Oh my!
John: I snuck out of my ward for a quick go at the co-op today with Phill Cameron, but I could only last one chapter before having to lie down again. (I wish I were making this up.)
Nursey: Oh, heavens!
John: Do you think it would be okay if I just said, “It’s really good, one of the best games of the year by far,” and then link to my review?
Nursey: I think that is the only solution. Unless somehow you are able to heal yourself. Is that possible? Can you heal yourself?
John: But nurse, I’m notoriously bad at healing. Such wicked fate.
Nursey: Ah, this is very true. I’d probably do that, then return to your death bed… I mean, your convalescence.
John: And that bed bath you were promising?
Nursey: The bed bath will come as soon as I’ve emptied your chamber pot of urine and pus.
John: Oh nurse, without you I’d be as nothing. Especially because I’m having to post this on a fucking Saturday when I’m fucking dying…
Nursey: Language, Mr Walker, or they’ll be no opium for you.
John: Begging your pardon nurse.