FIRST PERSON SHOOTER GAME Call of Duty: Black Ops 2 sent the gaming world into a frenzy today when it landed on shop shelves.
As fans rushed out to buy the game this morning, The INQUIRER was still recovering from the game's launch party in London the night before.
After our cold and wet 20 minute wait outside in the queue, the event kicked off with a co-op battle in the LAN room. This consisted of a Camelot sized roundtable with consoles and monitors hooked up to a network, with press and PR people battling it out with virtual guns and grenades.
Crawling with Z-list celebrities clinging to fame by the skin of their teeth, and a few more well established personalities, the launch party unfolded in two rooms - one for gaming and one for mingling.
A continuous stream of complimentary themed cocktails, including the tasty Zombie drink that we prefer not to know the contents of and cans of Hobo beer, kept us content as we waited our turn to play one of the most highly anticipated games of 2012.
For the short time we managed to have a go before the controller was ripped from our hands, the game played well, and the co-op option that we played was smooth and fun despite the fast pace and graphically intense quality of the game.
Fuel was supplied courtesy of the quite tasty but over-hyped London indie diner Meatliquor. Trays were brought out one-by-one from a dining area named North Highway, but we thought there were far too few of them. (See the picture of us eating the sign as we waited in hunger.)
Being the food prowlers that we are, we easily overcome this by standing by the kitchen doors and attacking the plates of canapés and burgers as soon as they appeared. Greasy, deep fried pickles and jalapeno bombs were other treats that enhanced the overall success of the night.
The last hour of the event was dedicated to the countdown to the launch at midnight, along with DJs such as Jaguar Skills playing dubstep, though most people had cleared off - probably to hunt for real food - by this time.
With the numbers ticking down on a large screen across the stage, a few cheers arose when it finally reached 12 o'clock from the few attendees left who were still nursing their cocktail glasses holding nothing but a few pieces of melting ice. We subsequently must have stumbled home somehow, because we're here today nursing our hangovers. µ
Plus the cost of ambition as moonshots eat into the coffers
Spoiler alert: it's probably VeriSign
Did we say cuts off? We meant traps them inside their own home