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He's the hairy one. More than once he’s been described as both ruggish AND dashing. As Co-Founder of Podcast vs Player, he is very sorry to everyone that this happened.

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Podcast vs Player is the brainchild of two mindless fools,hell bent on giving the world podcasts and videos; whether they want them or not.

You can read more about the team HERE.

If you want to, not gonna force you or anything.

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Wednesday 30 January 2013

BECOMING FEAR: THE HUNTER (DAY 4)


Day 4 of my gamer diary, Becoming Fear: The Hunter. And things are off to a great start.

Twenty minutes in, in starts to rain, not a problem, I can handle that. What I can't handle, is the sheer ridiculousness that is me The Hunter. I stumble across a moaning Mule Deer, in perfect sight. I check my pulse, and it blows my hand away with it's impressive beat. I'm so excited. I take out my rifle, knowing full well that this, this is finally it, the moment the last three days have led up to

I get the feeling I'm too far away as it's hard to line up the deer, but I can't risk moving forward, not after the last time. I decide to take a chance. So I shoot.

Nothing but a click.

"Press 'R' to reload."

I'm presented with a brief animation of my fumbling mitts placing one single bullet in the rifle, then I resume my position, take aim; I miss. The deer flees.

I find it's tracks, Huntermate "the deer is fleeing".

Me: *throws Huntermate*
How Am I Nearly At LVL3?!

So, after another half hour of aimless walking, I come across a new Mule Deer, very far in the distance, but I can see it. So I very, very slowly make my way to it, always keeping it in my sights...

Finally, I get there, where it turns to run, I make a judgment call and move my sights slightly to the right where I'm predicting it'll run. Then shoot.

And it goes down. I get a sudden sense of sadness, guilt and start to sob uncontrollably. After composing myself by my wife making me some lunch, I decide to go and claim my kill, and grab a photo of Dirk.

But I forgot where the bastard fell, so now I'm frantically running through the grass, trying to find the bastard. Even in death he taunts me!

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