What utterly ruins the illusion is that even the most terrifying creatures have absolutely no intelligence. A minion’s idea of a good time is to run toward you, sword drawn, until dead. His superior has the same problem. It’s something you can exploit. All that really matters is how much health they have, if they have any special attacks such as mystic fireballs or toxic plumes, and how they play in packs. Some demons cast shields on others. So kill them first. One breed of zombie will spawn infinite waves of his kind. So make him your primary target. Boss fights are a chore: just walk backward, firing, until death. Yours or theirs.

Online shows Hellgate at its best and worse. While having other players with you, the crowds of zombies become giant herds, and the subtle underpinning of the classes becomes clear. As the melee characters dash in, marksmen and casters hold back. Exploring London becomes a shared experience, and better for it. But with few tools to track down online partners, and crowded chat channels, finding groups can be a real pain. There’s no Looking for Group tool - you’ll have to rely on buddy lists or spamming chat channels. It’s a far cry from dedicated MMO games like World of Warcraft.

Loot is Hellgate’s strong point. It’s what turns it from a middling action shooter into an obsession. When absolutely every chestplate, every pair of pants, anything you wear or hold can be customised, when you’re assigning skill points every few minutes, when you’re weighing up point assignments with the requirements of lust-worthy armour, the choices come quick and fast. For every ten minutes of constant shooting, at least a tenth of that is spent on management - deconstructing drops, balancing and rebalancing your inventory.