Not until it had done its damnedest to take away my time and money. Everywhere I turned, it threw up a hand - 'no sir, I'm afraid I can't let you do that.' Not until you've upgraded this, but to do that you need to have upgraded this and this, and to do that you need to have gathered enough of this and earned enough of this. I've played it for a few hours across a few days, and will not be returning to it unless I hear it has been substantially altered. This awkward 2D strategy/MMO hybrid is not prepared to let me go about my business, and it most certainly is not prepared to let me play a Command & Conquer game. Tiberium Alliances, the free to play Command & Conquer game, takes me right back to that narrow, pedestrianised street. After I while, I gave up and just stayed in the office over lunch. My journey was a staccato one, frustration and impediment my constant companions. I tried to look grumpy and unapproachable, I pretended to be doing something important on my phone, I refused to make eye contact, I tried to adopt a weary expression that somehow conveyed 'look, you see me every single day, I'm not a gullible tourist, you must know by now that I'm not easy prey for you.' I tried, even, too look like I was perfectly mad.
He was the exception - the others impeded me because they saw me as an opportunity to make money.Įvery few steps I took, I was stopped. A narrow, pedestrianised street stretching up from Future Publishing HQ to the city centre (this was before a brand new and enormous faux-Georgian shopping centre was built in that location), it was always guarded by charity workers seeking donations, by clipboard-wielding people conducting spurious marketing surveys, by men with fast food leaflets, by men trying to flog mobile phone contracts, and occasionally by a crazy old codger trying to tell me I was going to hell unless I abandoned booze and sex and commerce. Trouble was, to get to anything I wanted to get to - a sandwich shop, a record shop, the comics shop or delightfully tiny ale pub The Old Green Tree I'd have to run The Gauntlet. Back when I lived in Bath, serving out my days on PC Format magazine, my lunch hour was everything to me.
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