Games of 2009: Borderlands

The grind isn't necessarily the means to an end: sometimes it's the end in itself, and the overblown plot is just theatre, or a convenient alibi to explain why you spent so much time hunting for the best health potion, or watching meaningless stats become meaningless but slightly bigger stats.

Which is where Borderlands' procedurally-generated content comes in. Lots of games have based their appeal around randomised elements before, of course, but for every Diablo, there's a Hellgate: London, an experience that offers limitless variation without ever hitting on the fact that, just because an item is literally unique does not ultimately mean that it also feels special.

The smart approach Gearbox took was to load its algorithms with bits and pieces that are inherently fun in the first place - fire damage, electrical charges that blow peoples' heads off, shotguns, sniper-sights and critical hits. All of this makes you anxious for the next loot drop; all of this makes you dream of finding that one gun that's perfect for you (a scoped SMG that fires meaty electrical rounds, in my case - I'm still looking).

And so I hunt for just the right loot in Borderlands the same way I once hunted for Agility Orbs in Crackdown, which is to say that I'm always on the lookout, that I'm willing to put aside the more mission-critical stuff for a trawl through trash piles when the moment calls for it, and that I'm embarrassed to admit I've even dreamt about finding the perfect weapon a few times. When a game intrudes into your dreams, it's safe to say that it's probably got to you.

And, in the end, the core of it all is nothing more than the narcotic power of numbers: they're everywhere to be seen in this hick wonderland. If Borderlands really is the hillbilly of the gaming landscape, it's the hillbilly savant you meet at a lonely gas station in the middle of nowhere who can calculate square roots freakishly quickly while mumbling to himself and keeping track of his workings by tugging at his own fingers.

Like Sesame Street, Borderlands is there to remind you that numbers are great, actually: they spill out of enemies as you fire round after round into them with your revolver, and bubble joyously into your account as you suck up money. Best of all, they're there to glow mysteriously while you compare the stats of one gun to another, deciding which one best suits your current mood and which one you're going to leave in its crate never to be seen again.

That handful of magical games, then: how often do you genuinely see them coming? Rarely, in my case. At the beginning of 2009, which titles were on my must-play list? None of my favourites, certainly - not Plants vs. Zombies, not Swords & Soldiers, not Leave Home (a dazzling XNA Indie Games shooter by Hermit Games) and not Batman: Arkham Asylum.

As for Borderlands? I hadn't even thought about it. I was mistily aware of its existence perhaps, the same way you're mistily aware of those strange bacterial illnesses you can get from licking Amazonian frogs, but nothing more. These days, then, I've started to think that games are a bit like bullets: plenty of them miss their targets for sure, but you almost never spot the one that's going to get you.