Haha, nasty.

I can't help but wonder whether or not I like or hate the controls. One second it feels so good, the next it just feels wrong. The dual analogue type system is funny really.

Don't you have a pretty expensive racing wheel though?

Which seem like terrible deals until you figure you aren't going to play multiplayer in games ALL the time.

@badgenome: Thanks. I had WTF moment when i read what Squiliam wrote. So it only about getting demos earlier.

If it took you guys 30 minutes to install GT5:P there is something seriously wrong with your PS3's (or time sense/watch).

What does the PS3 have to do with xbox live?  You can get a 13 month subscription to live for $39 on newegg.

You may not be forced to install games on the 360, but if L4D is any example you would do it voluntarily.  I thought the dvd was going to fly out of the tray it was making so much noise, and the load times could be improved.

Squilliam said: kowenicki said: Squilliam said: kowenicki said: @ squilliam... That baby takes forever!! lol. LBP is a bit of a drag too due to updates. But GT5P is a real nightmare to install.. haven;t you got a garage you can clear out while it gets on with it? Or maybe you could pen a short story? Once upon a time in a time far far before wisdom a young boy ventured forth into the local electronics store to purchase the next generation of gaming glory. Alas, innocent times soon give way to betrayal and the blood of many innocents flow down the waters of inevitability. Had this poor boy any wisdom at the time he would have said "Screw this crap, im getting an Xbox 360" and thus the progress bar of betrayal slowly edges towards completion.   Thats nowhere near a long enough tale... Its a good 1/2 hour Job if I remember rightly.   You're right! The poor boy beat down upon the hard, black, crystaline shell of the monster he had invited so willingly into his home. He beat it until the black beast tasted blood and he sat back and let the tears of his shame drip down upon the blood of his misery coating his abused hands. Still the progress bar failed to move, and he sat contemplating whether the blasted machine or himself should be hurled mercilessly through the nearest window. Then he realised he could play Forza motorsports so he forgot all about that stupid game and that lame machine. The End.

The following morning the boy padded down the stairs, sleepily rubbing his eyes. As he entered the den, an unexpected sight jolted him wide awake. There it was, like a monolith from the deepest reaches of outer space.

"But... but I..." he started to protest, then trailed off in amazement. The thing's sinister finish didn't show so much as a scratch! Piano black, they call it, he thought. But it seems... impossibly black. Almost as if in defiance of light itself. As if it absorbs the light. And if I allow it, it might absorb me, too...

He shook his head to clear it, then raised a hand to his forehead. He felt woozy, and his head was beginning to throb a bit. His throat was a bit parched, too. He needed a drink. As he stumbled toward the kitchen, he happened to look out the window. It was queerly dark out. Too dark. Was he mistaken? Was it still night-time? He glanced at the wall clock and gasped: the clock's hands were spinning backwards!

The boy reeled back to the den. Even in this low (and fast-fading) light, the thing gleamed malevolently. A strange humming filled the air, low at first but increasing in volume and intensity. The boy clapped his hands to his ears and squeezed shut his eyes, but still he could hear the droning. He could almost make out words... the cell... the cell...

Yes, he thought. This place is like a cell, and this damned black beast wishes to trap me in it. But it won't have me so easily. I won't let it!

He looked around, seeking to arm himself. In the dying light, it was hard to see. The light left seemed to be coming from the television, on which a blurry, indistinct shape had appeared. The boy fumbled about and seized upon a golf club. Baring his teeth like a feral dog, he stalked toward the thing. He raised the club to strike... then dropped it as all thoughts of resistance fled him. There on the screen...

Suddenly the boy felt comfort and peace such as no man has ever known outside of his mother's womb. Now he knew what was the chant of that androgynous, yet alluring, choir. And he joined in.

"The Cell. The Cell," said the boy.

Table that pretty much wraps everything.