The last time I played BioForge was back in mid-1997 after my boss let me lend his copy, along with Crusader: No Remorse (another game that has featured on this very site). While I couldn't actually get Crusader to run on my PC--if memory served it needed a floppy boot disk that never ended up working--BioForge was a snap to get up and running. And boy, was I glad it was.

I remember being instantly blown away by how amazing it looked, with the giant characters and their fluid animation, set against some cool pre-rendered backgrounds. Despite being tinged with some (fun) dopey dialogue, the overall atmosphere of mystery and brightly-lit dread was so appealing.

But for all the impression the game had made, I never really got that far. By now you've probably witnessed what an obtuse bitch BioForge can be, so that's made Vinny's deeper-delving sessions with the game so much more fun to watch. He's looking at stuff I'd begrudgingly abandoned hope of seeing fifteen years ago, with 1997's version of the internet not being the helpful ocean of information that it is today.

Vinny's time with BioForge has also jogged long-dormant memories of the game. I'd forgotten how chuffed the player's amnesiac cyborg is every time he picks up an item and enthusiastically proclaims what it is. And nothing is as pure as his joy at discovering and rediscovering a simple fork.

Part of me wonders if he feels some sort of weird kinship to the utensil, innocent and metallic and brainless as it is. Whatever his reasons, his relationship with the fork has inspired this latest design from me. Sure, our cyborg friend is surrounded by futuristic perils by the score, but once he finds that fork there is no laserjail that can stop him feeling so free.