Return to Black Mesa
When I was a kid I owned Half Life for three hours. It’s by no coincidence this timeframe aligns with how long it’d take for my soft plump legs to carry me back and forth from the shop where I’d feverishly fondle those boxes of potential glee, pluck a few of the best from their nest, hold them to my chest so as others could not grasp the games I’d graced with esteemed paw-marks, lengthily consider and ultimately identify the…