If I ever do a second playthrough (to romance Triss, side with Dijkstra, choose Hjalmar, see the Empress ending, condemn Olgierd, and face the Unseen Elder), I'll hone my Gwent skills then. But that's Future Me's problem. Current Me has reached enlightenment and must rest. For several years minimum.

Yes, I skipped Gwent. Not from hate, but indifference. I wanted to slay beasts, not shuffle decks. People say I missed half the game. I don't care. I climbed the mountain. I saw the view. Whether I played fantasy poker on the way up is irrelevant to the man I've become. (The man needs a nap though.)

If The Witcher 3 was my Everest, I must find a new mountain. A new game to haunt my backlog like a black hole, where my liminal state of always being about to play it becomes part of my identity. There’s only one contender: #Baldur'sGate3. I look forward to starting it in the 2030s. Maybe. 7/7

The world feels greyer now. Did the colours fade, or did I just spend so long in Toussaint that reality can't compete? My wife asked what's wrong, and I couldn't explain that I'm grieving a digital Polish swordsman. Space Marine 2 is helping, but it's like eating chips after a Michelin meal. 6/7

No other game - not Cyberpunk 2077, the Mass Effect trilogy, or finishing Diablo 2 on Nightmare difficulty - has left me feeling quite like this. Pride, emptiness, catharsis, all tangled together. #TheWitcher3 is done, and so, somehow, is an era of me. 5/7

For years, I was someone who hadn’t played #TheWitcher3. Then I was someone who WAS playing Witcher 3. Now I’m someone who HAS FINISHED The Witcher 3. Witcher 3 was my Everest. Now I’m just a guy who climbed it. No more “someday.” Just “I did.” And a faint echo of Roach’s hooves in my dreams. 4/7

I am no longer the man I was. I look at my hands and they are the same, yet different. My son Benjamin gurgles at me. He doesn't understand. How could he? He has never known the strange grief of finishing a masterpiece. 3/7

Started #TheWitcher3 last year on paternity leave after my second son, Benjamin, was born. Finished it last Friday. He’s grown so much since then - and somehow, so have I. Feels like closing a book I’ve lived in for over a year. 2/7

That’s our ambition!

Every time I replay Titanfall 2, I forget how quickly I get attached to BT. The campaign might be short, but the bond between Pilot and Titan still hits harder than most modern shooters with triple the runtime.
5/4 😅

There’s something timeless about Titanfall 2’s campaign. The levels still surprise, the story still lands, and now having played it with HDR + ultrawide, the game feels like a modern release. Few FPS campaigns age this gracefully.
4/4

Kind of amazing how well Titanfall 2 runs in 2025. On my Core i7 14th Gen + RTX 4080 Super rig, it’s effortlessly smooth at 144Hz ultrawide — like it was built for today’s hardware instead of 2016. Crazy to think it’s running on the Source engine!
3/4

Playing Titanfall 2 on ultrawide feels like Respawn secretly designed it that way. The little cockpit animations, HUD glows, and extra space around BT all add so much immersion. it feels so much more immersive, really makes the game come alive.
2/4

Diablo 2 got another expansion?!?!? 🥹

Oh, wait.... 😞

Two kids under 3. Second one starts nursery soon. Fancy red sports car? I’d settle for a lie-in and a fresh pack of wet wipes that hasn’t gone dry. So, less a crisis and more a carefully curated return to peak adolescence. With a mortgage and two buggies.

My dad’s version of this involved a Saab convertible and and putting Sounds of the 60s on the radio (a show that, for a decade of bangers, somehow only played syrupy dreck). Mine’s humming along to Ash and Blur in the kitchen while loading a Tommee Tippee steriliser.

The mid-late 90s are quietly restocking my wardrobe. Billabong jumper. Airwalks t-shirt. No Fear cap. Basically dressing like I’ve just been airlifted out of an Our Price staff meeting from the year 1997.

I've always wondered where they come from. Is it one school? A national thing? Some long-running summer exchange? It's funny how something so regular and visible can remain completely unofficial. A quiet tradition of summer in the city. A minor London mystery.

4/4