The GamerGater in Autumn: Why Sir Francis Bacon is wrong about videogaming in November

“The game release schedule

that in Autumn rots with fail and sin

in the summer ripens with sex and win”

~ Sir Francis Bacon (Sonnet to Halo 3)

Far be it from me to disagree with anything that Sir Francis Bacon ever said or wrote, but fuck him. Seriously.

As a gamer I love the Autumn.

I love waking up to find my Xbox buried underneath a pile of freshly fallen leaves.

I like nothing more than to marvel at a dewy sheet of spider web, clinging to the thumb-sticks of my games controller, like an exotic, gauzy fabric, woven from diamonds.

Who doesn't enjoy travelling backwards in time to the Autumn of 1990 to play Conker Champion 2000 on an Atari Lynx handheld, with three of their best mates?

I love the smell of defective Xbox 360s that, around this time of year, seem to stain the air with the odour of acrid bonfire smoke.

I yearn to play the limited, polonium-infused, edition of Fallout 4, swaddled in my red woollen gloves, thick winter coat, and hand-knitted scarf, while an Ella Fitzgerald Christmas album plays quietly in the background.

I want to gaze upon the Master Chief's armour as it slowly turns from green, to flaming orange, to dull matt brown, before falling off in pieces.

Under the darkening shadows of Mordor, I long to playfully push the biggest orc I can find up against the nearest tree trunk. Then repeatedly press 'X' to passionately make out with the orc, our hot breath condensing in the cold air around our gently interlocking mouths.

I hunger for the dark evenings when the orc and I will toast marshmallows around an over-clocking PC with a broken fan.

I love watching as the fervent decay of Autumn gives way to the stillness of winter; the trees shedding the last of their summer foliage, as inevitable as Assassin's Creed: Syndicate losing its graphical textures.

It is November and, regardless of what Sir Francis Bacon might say, there is no better time to be a gamer.