I've had my heart broken several times in my life. Once, on Christmas Day 1989, I eagerly ran downstairs and gasped at the sight of what was clearly a crudely but lovingly wrapped skateboard. A skateboard that I had wanted ever since I had seen Marty McFly cruise through the streets of Hill Valley as a stowaway behind an unsuspecting SUV driver. A skateboard with a custom deck, with artwork that would cause my fellow skaters to shout "rad". A skateboard whose wheels would send me gliding across the streets as I headed for the nearest half-pipe. A skateboard of majestical proportion.

I grabbed it, and with shaking hands and a heart beating against my chest, I tore that festive wrapping as hard as I could. Through an intricate web of sticky tape, ribbon and ever expanding wrapping paper, I dug through. Years later, I wondered that this is what Andy in The Shawshank Rdemption must have felt like as he dragged hinself through the tunnels. My own redemption was in sight. My prize was near. Finally, the last shred of packaging fell away to the floor. And there it was... a plastic skateboard from the local store. With stiff plastic wheels. And a picture of a clown on the deck.

That's what playing Aliens: Colonial Marines felt like.