Didn’t get to play my big consoles long this morning, so rather than put on Valkyria Chronicles, I decided on some GTA. I finally managed to do the pipe bomb mission I’d been a little bit stuck on, which was nice.

The main reason I wanted to play, though, is that I’m finding it hard to stop thinking about GTA IV. Over the last few weeks, a thought has been nagging at me.

The thought: “GTA IV is better than Doom.”

Astounding, bizarre and even heretical, that thought. Doom has been my favourite game of all time (and thus the best game ever) for fifteen years now. Nothing’s ever come close to replacing it over the long term. But GTA IV has been nagging at me. Every time I play it it astonishes me. And maybe that astonishment is more about the world and the graphics engine and less about the core game, but so be it.

Doom is perfect, in its way. There’s no flab, nothing but pure, core brilliant game. GTA IV isn’t perfect. It’s got mess, loose ends, annoyances and oddities aplenty. But, but, but… maybe, sometimes, isn’t a glorious mess just, you know, better? I’ll take London, which has grown over centuries over any neat planned community. And maybe I’ll take Liberty City over a base on Mars.

I don’t know, but when it’s the middle of the night and the rain’s lashing down and the flames from a burned-out van are blowing in the wind, GTA IV seems to be making its case in the most eloquent manner.