And that’s exactly what’s playing out on screen. Gearbox president Randy Pitchford is bombing along the desert towards an abandoned frontier town with three friends in a pair of dune-buggies. The pillion passengers man rocket turrets while the remaining pair does the driving. Along the way they’re ambushed by pirates decked out in leather armor and face-masks. The rocket turrets make spectacular craters of their improvised craft. Wheels and axles fly into the air, flailing corpses are sent spinning from the wreckage. Already we’re seeing the fun: Randy and his colleagues are laughing at the chaos, talking tactics and pointing out features they could visit. And they’re chatting about the tasty guns they found on their last mission.

Above: "Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for thou art crispy and taste good with ketchup"

This is a major point. The weaponry in Borderlands is generated by an algorithm that combines types of barrel, grip, clip, ammo and attachments to make your weapon different from anything anyone else has. Gearbox claims the final game should have around 500,000 different types out there. With armor and items getting the same treatment, you’ll never look the same as other people in your team, even if you’re all playing the same character.

Randy and friends have finally reached their destination. They’ve driven through bandits, blasted their way past an ambush and achieved their objective. But there’s a problem: the desert is infested with “Wrack” (slimy, bird-like beasties) and we’ve just bumped into their nest. Except it’s not a nest, it’s a walking, talking mother-beast, dotted with pores from which the Wrack scuttle. Imagine a Jawa Sandcrawler with legs and a vagina for a face, and you’re about 50% there. Randy turns and runs. The others follow, just as the screen fades to black. The long wait for Borderlands begins.