Excerpt: Jimmy was never destined for greatness. His stereotypical deep-South accent was eclipsed only by his bucktoothed grin and general sense of inbreeding and his idea of a good time was a riveting afternoon plucking away discordantly on his banjo while sitting inside his Alabama-style wooden hut while snatching quick, ogling glances at his sister. To Jimmy, the word “hygiene” was a greeting, and books were merely toilet paper substitutes.
Summary: At first I didn't get it. The newsgroups were all abuzz about some game called X-something - everyone who played it seemed to become a near-zombie, talking about it incessantly and flooding the groups with endless threads and theories and strategies. Then, as a lowly intern at a gaming mag, I was given the game to take some screenshots for a review. It seemed interesting enough - building bases and killing aliens - but I still didn't get it. Frankly, it seemed tedious.