I can still hear the screaming headless kamikaze. That’s not a twee little aphorism. Despite the fact that I’m no longer playing the game, I can still hear the incessant roaring scream of the droves and droves of bomb-wielding suicidal maniacs charging toward me, somewhere inside my brain. I hope it goes away soon, because this would be no way to live.

Rock, Paper, Shotgun is the first place in the world to have been given a few levels of Serious Sam 3: BFE to play with, and I’ve now killed and been killed within them an awful lot. Let me tell you all about it.

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