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Exposed! The bizarre, mutant pig-people who live in Forza Horizon 2

After losing her fishing rod, Jenny didnt have a backup plan

Origami is an extension of yourself. My arms are literally paper

I had to have my lower arms amputated, but these deltoid tats were so worth it

Ever feel like your head is a pentagon? Uh, no, me neither *nervous glance*

Please... Kill... Me...

Miles Kane gigs often set Nathan off on his existential crises

Years of looking to the left had made it impossible to even consider looking to the right


As the entire stand slowly lowered into the hot folds of the Earth, like the rotating wheel of a great paddle steamer or some bleak factory conveyor belt, there was not a word of protest, each man and each woman accepting their death with quiet dignity, caring not for the world that had shunned them so, that had caused so much pain, so much anger. It was, after all, the natural order of things. Here at Horizon festival, no one leaves, and no one tries. To resist is to waste what little time remains in this feast of fools, this bitter battle. So they stared. They stared straight ahead and did little else. Some hoped for a better place. Others hoped for sleep. An unbreakable, unthinkable sleep. The end was near now, it was near and this life would soon be finished, its flame snubbed by the encroaching thumb of fate. Not a moment too soon, because what awaited, whatever it was, had to be better than this place. This languished land. This menacing multitude. This world of freaky Forza faces.

Woah woah woah, you put the milk in BEFORE you take the teabag out?

Put your hands in the air, and wave them like theyre shovels. Because they basically are

Ben Griffin
In 2012 Ben began his perilous journey in the games industry as a mostly competent writer, later backflipping into the hallowed halls of GamesRadar+ where his purple prose and beige prose combine to form a new type of prose he likes to call ‘brown prose’.