PixelVixen707

Okay, so I’m not jealous about E3.  Do I mind that all my game journo pals are partying in L.A., hanging around with a couple of Beatles and Steven Spielberg and livetweeting about what Felicia Day’s wearing?  Do I care that they’re getting all these product announcements live and in the flesh, while the rest of us have to wait 10 seconds to read about them online?  Oh, and the exclusive interviews and schmoozing and noshing - that’s all so done.  What do I care.  Why would I give Ringo a chance to grab my butt, anyway.  (Psst, Mr. Starr, “Octopus’s Garden” is full of win and ooohhhh, will you take me now?  Could it be a “hard day’s night” for me, too?)

Gah - okay, calm.  Folks are so starstruck, and I’m getting the full torrent.  It seems like I follow every game journo on Twitter who’s worth reading and about 50 other yes(wo)men who just go, “Squeee” every ten seconds during these press conferences.  But I don’t have to sit on my hands.  What is it we on the backlines are supposed to do?  That’s right: we eschew the scoops so we can give you analysis.

So let’s talk about Milo.