The ubiquity of Season Passes and layers of post-release DLC is a standard part of today's gaming landscape. Many saw it coming with Oblivion's infamous horse armour; with the majority of modern consoles constantly gulping down new data from our gaping broadband pipes, it was only a matter of time before publishers saw the opportunity for earning regular chunks of income. And why shouldn't they? Businesses are, after all, in the habit of making money, and adaption to the target market is a vital part of this process. The problem, though, is twofold: firstly, as customers with brain cells, watching DLC fragments become Season Passes, which then evolve into paywalls that lock out initial players, can often leave a sour taste.
And the second problem is TimeSplitters 2.
There was a time, before marriage and babies and learning how to bake (I bake now, apparently), that I could play video games for as long as I wanted. Imagine that. It feels like a universe away, but fifteen years ago the only things that would interrupt my quality PlayStation 2 time were the twin calls of bladder and stomach. I had my own room in a nice warm house and a fat CRT that teetered tipsily on the edge of a desk that hadn't seen a pen since the end of university. And I had a steady income that, once the rent had been paid, I could spend on anything without guilt or remorse. So, of course, it all went on music and video games.
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