Modern Warfare 3 is an amazing game that is part of the world-famous CoD franchise. This game is an amazing feat of development on Infinity Ward’s part and is the most famous and best-selling first-person shooter out there. There is a lot of different talk out there with three franchises in competition (CoD, Battlefield and Halo, with Medal of Honor lagging behind). Quality-wise the game does OK, since it is just a slightly improved version of Modern Warfare 2’s graphics. The noticeable ones are the fire and explosion effects, which mean that ‘sploding people with an RPG/grenade is twice as satisfying as you watch the flames trailing out from behind them. I also realised anti-aliasing has somehow gotten worse as I have seen much less of it throughout the games; it’s still there though and it is good. So here is 7/10 for graphics. Gameplay is where the real problem lies. The gameplay really feels like a Modern Warfare 2.5 with new overpowered guns and even more overpowered perks and Pointstreaks (Yes, they have changed their names). The guns are mostly the same with new ones added here or there, with no real difference. If you use the old weapons you end up doing badly most of the time and being called a noob. Use an overpowered gun and you are called much worse things that are common in the CoD community. The maps are well done in shape but colours are bland and dull. A famous YouTuber named Aces gamer described the maps as: “Just a gray canvas, with a few burning trucks slapped on here and there, then a wall is just destroyed,” and there’s your map. So gameplay gets 4/10. In creativity I think Modern Warfare 3 achieves greatly with the...

Ode to my cousin – footballer, musician, multitalented, under graduated but overly congratulated. (also my favourite cousin with the same name as my son) You’re in a bad place. But staying all day in bed is your saving grace. Deal sleepily with the world while in your duvet curled. Think nihilistic thoughts at twenty while getting sleep a plenty. Don’t ever risk emerging before noon that dark filled world is best attested to un-vested and pyjamaed you, not soon but in mid to latish afternoon. Emerge blinking and unshaven to dusk’s familiar smile then plug in your play station for these late hours to wile. Bother not with thoughts of study, bloody, shoddy, fuddy-duddy, cruddy, bookish, rote, remote, words and thoughts that fail your boat to float. Centrifugal eccentricity for a student of chemical electricity, seeking notoriety and publicity – attempt eliciting lyrical sympathy for upper middle classic apathetic idiosyncranicity. (made up word) Roll out of bed Cause you ain’t dead Moan less groan less Shave then dress Your stuff is folded In the hot press Right next to you sister’s summer dress. Emerge blinking and thinking Not shirking, stinking and sinking. Now go live more....

Pump me full of soma, For I’ve got a teratoma. Shred my pleura open, Making sure my ribs ain’t broken. Tear and cut and rend and scrape. Clean me out from stem to nape. Watch and wonder at this rot Comprised of muscle bone and snot, Image and likeness of God it’s not. Me, I’d call up Ridley Scott. Patch me up as best you can I’ll be as brave as any man Faced with an uncertain fate The fear is only in the wait, Lying here I can envision Each clinically precise incision Lying here for my physician My life, the price of each decision. So pump me full of soma I’ve got a date with knives. Be thankful for mundanities Don’t wish away your lives....