Day 2: Portal 2

"Well done. Here are the test results: You are a horrible person. I'm serious, that's what it says: A horrible person. We weren't even testing for that. Don't let that "horrible person" thing discourage you. It's just a data point." - GLaDOS, Portal 2.

After the exertions of to-ing and fro-ing between various Zone 6 conurbations on Monday, as well as returning home later than planned after a post-Mahler gin and tonic at the Queen's Arms at Gloucester Road, an appointment with the dentist - my first in over eight years, I'm sad to admit - seemed an excellent opportunity to take the weight of my feet, albeit with a middle-aged man scraping my molars and poking my gums with an ultrasonic cleaner.

I've never had an issue with dentists, mainly because I've been lucky enough to wander through life without any major operations required. Sitting in this particular dental surgery felt weirdly like having a medical procedure performed in somebody's living room - I almost expected the tea and muffins to be produced on a silver platter after my third rinse, though no doubt the concept of muffins is frowned upon in general dentistry culture.

I left unscathed, £70 lighter and with an appointment card for a year hence. It seemed strange adding a calendar entry on GCal for July 2012, but I suppose as time rolls on and the months seem to pass ever more quickly, those beautifully blank days will soon be covered with duties and engagements. I never cease to be amazed at quite how rapidly life crystallises around you, forming unbreakable connections between you and the world at large in the blink of an eye. Even in freedom, I find that activity still permeates its way through my hours, to the extent that endeavouring to keep your calendar blank is almost as hard work as trudging through wall-to-wall appointments. Our world is one where we convince ourselves we must be ceaselessly doing, or else fall behind into primitivity. I try to challenge that world every day.

Fortunately, Day 2's appointments did indeed conclude at 9.30am, meaning I could spend the rest of the day playing Portal 2. I've never been too publicly forthcoming about my interest in gaming, as I still believe that for the vast majority of the uninitiated, the thought of video games conjures up an unpleasant vision of greasy-haired nitwits delighting in the simulated slaughter of countless numbers of soldiers, or single bearded males hunched alone over laptops, ensnared in a virtual world where they chatter with acolytes for hours but can barely hold a conversation in reality. Such stereotyping is obviously highly immature. It is now impossible to ignore the meteoric rise of gaming in ordinary households, what with the advent of motion-controls and smartphones, and with the industry generating $15.6 billion in content sales in 2010 (and that was a 'tough year') its prevalence will only increase.

There will naturally be a myriad naysayers, and those who believe that games are inextricably linked to crime, anti-social behaviour and an inability to deal with real world issues. Those naysayers should track down a copy of Portal 2 (or its equally terrific predecessor) and see for themselves how games can challenge, question and ultimately enrich a player's world. As well as its key USP of intelligent, physics-based puzzles, involving the manipulation of gels, bridges, funnels and of course the eponymous portals, the game boasts a vast but grounded environment, some terrifically anthropomorphised robots, and, crucially, a riotously funny co-operative mode where players are encouraged to interact with another to progress. And it has Stephen Merchant in it. What more could you want?

I played it for about eight hours over the course of two or three days, and found it immensely fulfilling. I enjoyed the adrenaline rush of identifying the final piece in a puzzle, of exploring the crushed world of Aperture Science, and, most of all, hearing two robots verbally sparring with a script of such intoxicating black humour it could rival any Hollywood blockbuster. Games will, I admit, never be considered as art. But for every Call of Duty and its vicious, mindless theatres of war, there is a Portal 2 to maintain the equilibrium. It's just such a shame I've finished it.