Besides, I'm already unpopular enough as it is, being a) the only Brit, b) half an hour late, and c) unable to speak binary. Accordingly, I decide not to mention that my entire Civ career consists of unsuccessfully attempting the tutorial of Civ III. 'So has everyone played Civ before?' asks a Firaxis beard, to audible snorts of contempt from the assembled nerderati. I couldn't be any deeper in geek hell if Captain Spock were overseeing proceedings. My fellow diners are now gathered round a table at the Firaxis office, mainly sporting the regulation uniform of polo shirts tucked into slacks, offset with greasy hair and white socks. Ten hours earlier, myself and a UK PR man were stumbling round a car park at midnight in the smack capital of the Eastern seaboard, searching desperately for entertainment having jettisoned ourselves from a meal that had degenerated into an in-depth discussion on the intricacies of Morrowind. It's a Civilization IV hands-on multiplayer event in (genuinely) sunny Baltimore, and shirt-boy is celebrating another minor victory, while increasingly getting on my wick. If it were a pub quiz and he'd been asked to name the worst band of the '80s, he'd be well within his rights.
Wham! Yells The man in the floral shirt to my left.
