Watching our parents strut around clumsily with a foreign language guide with all the finesse of a broken PSP Talkman translator. Taking an unwanted three hour excursion to the toilet after a disagreeable run-in with the undercooked/overcooked/not quite dead local cuisine. Sunburn. We've all had a bad holiday at some time or another.
And how did we end up in most of these situations? Well, before the time of alluringly cheap internet flights we had the snake-skinned, dead-eyed, crocodile smiles of travel agents. Low on morals and high on the prospect of sale bonuses, motivational buzzwords and colourful euphemisms, these risible reps would do anything to send you to the sun. Always conveniently forgetting the 'fun in the' part.
But, while we've been sold some horrible holidays before, we've never been at risk from seismic, dimension-tearing explosions, drills to the face or having the displeasure of our necks being introduced to the business end of a chainsaw. These are perils we'd all face if the following nightmarish gaming resorts existed, though, and the travel industry could sell us enough lies to get us there. We think we'll spend our next hols in the dark, damp, but reassuringly evisceration-free place we call home.
Destination: RAPTURE - BIOSHOCK
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