In a week where we’ve had all the time to do what we want, it’s been hard to do anything but think. Some of those worries temporarily fade when I pull the Valve Index over my eyes and strap the controllers to my hands, stepping into the terrifying world of Half-Life: Alyx.Īlyx has been the last week of my life, switching between this virtual reality world and the horror of our actual existence. Nothing exists now but looming dread and anxiety, a fear of the future following a global pandemic and what changes it might bring.

But I know, deep down, everything has changed. My children are downstairs playing like nothing is different.

They’re all locked away and the world is still. In the real world, the birds are singing but there’s no noise from my neighbours. It’s a dream - or perhaps a nightmare - come true. I might be standing still in real life, but my brain is utterly convinced by the illusion that I’m here among the Soviet modernist buildings, the sirens, the radio chatter of City-17. I can hear headcrabs scuttling in the vents above, and occasionally there’s a low moan from a zombified resident who’s being puppeteered by one of these space chicken gits. Organic growths throb from the walls, and disgusting pustules swell and spurt open as I pass. I’m wandering through an abandoned hotel in the quarantine zone of City-17, carefully opening doors with my actual hands and using my real-life head and eyes to peek into the dark.

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