Diminished booty call of the cicadas

"Habit forming. Mind controlling. Life absorbing." No, not the evil yoghurt The Stuff in the 1985 horror-comedy of that title. I'm talking about the RPG "Skyrim". Broke the seal on an Xbox 360 copy yesterday and spent 12 subsequent hours with no care for stomach, bladder or eyeballs. Went cold turkey today, tying up loose ends instead, but every atom in my mongrel body was willing me to carry on shaping the destiny of the Wood Elf warrior Leif. The game is super immersive and the temptation to trailblaze another section of the world map or delve into the latest forbidding underground complex or hone your skills/improve your gear/seek new missions from the colourful supporting cast is tough to resist. And the atmosphere... When it's the wee hours virtually AND in RL, and you sneak into a sleeping camp of strange, headdress-wearing natives, there's a genuine creepiness and sense of peril. Don't even get me started on what it's like to share the countryside with giants, one of whom belted me half a league with his club when I wandered too close. Alas, being as wide and deep as it is addictive, it's glaringly bloody obvious "Skyrim" will rule my existence unless I reserve it for times when all pressing tasks are sorted. Like now :-)