Ever since the original Team Fortress set the standard, class-based shooters have followed a pretty simple formula. Your choice of specialized roles usually corresponds to where you want to be in a shootout: on the frontlines as an assault trooper, right behind them as a supporting medic, bringing up the rear as an engineer or anti-vehicle expert, taking potshots from afar as a sniper, or infiltrating enemy territory as a stealthy spy. It's nice that you can find the niche that best suits you - but wouldn't it be even cooler to play as a soldier that really stands apart from the usual archetypes?

As with the most , I'm fascinated by the stranger, more unique concepts that some multiplayer shooters have to offer. It's not rewarding enough to just point and shoot at anything that moves - you've got to score kills and capture objectives with your own distinct style. So, for your enjoyment, I present a list of the misfit classes that merrily defy the traditional class structure. You might die in the line of duty, but you'll be ten times more memorable than yet another humdrum Assault soldier.

requires you to bring a Medic along in your hunting party, but at least prospective healers get three options to choose from. While Val has the standard healing-beam and Caira wields an unconventional health-restoring grenade launcher, Lazarus is by far the strangest of the bunch. Why? He's a healing class who will watch unflinchingly while you die at his feet.

This Rasputin-looking physician does have the ability to heal his allies, but only in very limited bursts. His real power comes from his ability to instantly revive downed or dead teammates, paired with his personal Cloaking Device. A good Lazarus knows to wait patiently and invisibly from the shadows, keeping an eye out for timely revives instead of providing direct, continuous support. He'll gladly watch you get mauled to death, but only with the team's best interests at heart.

Frankly, every TF2 class has a ludicrously wide range of utility and possibilities within its prescribed playstyles. But if I have to pick one standout, it's got to be that ever-dapper Frenchman, the Spy. Plenty of shooters have a class that's meant to sneak behind enemy lines with temporary cloaking or disguises - but it's the Spy's methods that make him so distinct.

At launch, most players had a tough time spotting fake teammates intent on stabbing their tender back-meat. And just when people started to adapt to the Spy's subtle behavior patterns, new items gave him the tools to outsmart enemies once more - particularly the Dead Ringer, which lets you feign death to slip by defenders unnoticed. Succeeding as the Spy means thinking like your enemy, and blending in without being blatantly inconspicuous. Yes, that's an oxymoron, but TF2 vets know exactly what I mean.

Lead and Gold's playerbase has gone the way of the dodo - which is a shame, because it has some pretty distinct characters. I almost gave the nod to the Trapper, a lady with a coonskin cap, bear traps, and a sniper rifle - but the Deputy class (pictured front and center here) and his vigilant team leadership is too nuanced not to pick.

The Deputy can tag up to two enemies as targets, making them fully visible to his teammates (even through walls). Here's the catch: he can also remove those same tags from allies if they've been marked by an opposing Deputy. The juggling act of providing your team with built-in wallhacks while denying them from your enemy is key, giving the Deputy the power to control the flow of kills in a match without actually scoring them himself.

finally lets you play as everyone's favorite / most hated robot pal Claptrap. So how does one capture the essence of this delightfully / annoyingly chipper companion as a playable mercenary? Simple: by screwing with your teammates at every available opportunity. But in a productive way!

Claptr - sorry, Fragtrap's signature ability is VaultHunter.EXE, which lets you morph into different forms every 40 seconds (i.e. incredibly often). Thing is, the effects of this seemingly random transformation can also apply to your allies - and some are more disruptive than others. Your teammates might start cursing you out when they're suddenly bouncing around or uncontrollably firing off their entire clip in the middle of a heated firefight. That's when you shrug, wink, and sheepishly say "I was just trying to help!"

Despite all their freaky, incredibly invasive body modifications, the Strogg aren't so different from us. That's if Quake Wars is to be believed, since all the human classes have analogous counterparts on the Strogg side. Whereas the Global Defense Force has the Fields Ops role, a support class that can deploy turrets, call in airstrikes, and drop ammo for teammates, the Strogg can deploy the functionally identical Oppressor. Or rather, it would be identical if not for one crucial difference.

The Oppressor - great name for a cyborg alien soldier, by the way - isn't able to resupply his allies with extra ammo. Instead, he gets the ability to plant tactical shields around the map, creating temporary cover for his teammates where there was none before. In the hands of a tactical mastermind, the Oppressor's power to transform the battlefield by creating new chokepoints or offensive bulwarks makes him one of the most influential shooter classes ever created.

Imagine staring down an entire legion of Oddjobs. Now give them luscious beards. That's Shadowrun's Dwarfs in a nutshell - short in stature, but no less lethal for it. Instead of a class system, this cyberpunk shooter lets you pick a soldier from one of four races and equip them with whatever magic or tech you like. Succeeding as a Dwarf is a matter of tricky resource management: your spell-casting energy regenerates at a snail's pace, so you need to drain essence from your enemies - or leech off your teammates, oddly - to stay useful.

But here's the weirdest part: scoring a headshot on a Dwarf is meaningless, because unlike the other races, it won't inflict increased damage. As with the Necromorphs in Dead Space, defending yourself against these fighters goes against the cardinal rule you learned in every other shooter.

Halo 4 doesn't have classes in the traditional sense, but it does have specialized loadouts. Once you've hit level 50 in the Spartan Rank progression system, you're given a choice from eight distinct classes, which have to be leveled up individually if you want their respective rewards. The most tasty carrots on this stick are the perk-like buffs you get for maxing out each class, but they also come with a spiffy suit of unique Spartan armor.

All of the Support Upgrade and Tactical Package rewards are functionally useful; Operators make vehicles more resilient, Rogues have steadier aim, and Wetwork operatives get quieter footsteps. But there's one oddball: Pioneer, the Neon Genesis Evangelion-looking commando you see above. His signature ability? Gain more XP after a match. That's it. In a group of specializations that provide tangible benefits during gameplay, the Pioneer offers you exactly nothing in the heat of a firefight. In essence, the Pioneer only exists to grant a perk that unlocks other, more useful classes slightly quicker.

Typically, if your teammates are screaming that you're the one to blame for a loss, they're just a bunch of whiny babies who can't understand the concept of collaborative effort. But in the case of Red Orchestra 2, that blame-throwing might actually be appropriate. Like any real fighting force, teams in this WW2 shooter have a handful of Squad Leaders, but only one Commander. Playing as the Commander is a critical responsibility, since you and you alone have access to the Radio, a tool that facilitates airstrikes, aerial recon, and ally-respawning reinforcements.

Because RO2 servers support up to 64 players, that means you might have 31 other people relying on you to make the right calls. Your tactical insight - or idiocy - can lead your team to organized victory or disgraceful, discombobulated defeat. If you're not prepared to do some extensive voice-chatting, or take serious heat when you make a blunder, the Commander is certainly not the class for you.

Unless you're a Call of Duty vet, you might be unfamiliar with the concept of TTK. Short for Time To Kill, it's the measure of any given weapon's lethality, reducing all that twitch shooting to cold, hard math. Being pro at CoD means obsessing over your TTK, since you want to be racking up headshots and calling in killstreaks as quickly as possible. That's what makes the Riot Shield such a strange, typically undesirable choice for your primary slot: it's a slow, clunky means of self-defense in a series that's all about frenzied killing.

And yet, the Riot Control loadout, which revolves around the use of the Riot Shield, is one of the preset builds provided in both Modern Warfare 2 and Ghosts. Seeing as Riot Control is presented to new players as one of a few default class options, it seems bizarre to promote a playstyle that runs counter to everything CoD stands for. Then again, the general public's unfamiliarity with how to fight against these shield-wielders could be the perfect edge.

Meet the mysterious tenth class in the Team Fortress universe. Shooters often include modes where you escort an objective - typically an NPC hostage, or some kind of explosive payload - from point A to point B. But when playing as the Civilian, you are the objective. Caught between a team of Assassins that want to snipe your head off and the Bodyguards attempting to protect you, the outcome of each round in VIP mode hinges directly on whether you live or die.

It's the ultimate fantasy fulfillment for players that love being the center of attention - though you won't be doing much shooting yourself, since the Civilian's only weapon is a plain old umbrella. Will you dazzle everyone on the server by ? Or will you singlehandedly unbalance the entire game mode by utterly failing at self-preservation? That's really for you to decide.

Though this class title reads like a kindergartener proudly writing his name for the first time, it's actually an acronym for Mechanized Assault Exo-suit. And to call the MAX a class almost feels like a misnomer, since it's essentially a walking tank on two legs amidst a crowd of regularly proportioned soldiers. But hey, that's how PlanetSide 2 labels it, so who am I to argue? Even though you can't deploy as a MAX right from the get-go, it has its own set of customizations to unlock and intricacies to learn just like any other class.

For starters, there's no aiming down your sights - the MAX has two giant guns for arms, so pinpoint targeting isn't really an option. You also have to decide if you want to be built to counter infantry, aircraft, or ground vehicles, which presents an interesting quandary. Do you spec yourself to be a godsend in one type of scenario but useless in others? Or do you go with a more adaptable loadout that can deal with anything but excels at nothing? Whatever you go with better be good, since you're spending precious resources every time you don this robo-suit.

If you've ever wanted to play as a perpetually farting mercenary in a class-based shooter, this is the best chance you're ever going to get. Everything about the Astrek Recluse brings flatulence to mind, given that this advanced Biotech battleframe (read: subclass) is defined by its use of noxious gas. Biological warfare isn't funny, but watching your souped-up soldier vault away from enemies with a blast of greenish-brown gas really, really is. That move is called Evacuate, by the way; it's unclear whether or not bowels are involved.

Maybe I'm just immature as all hell, but I would relish every opportunity to brag about killing my enemies when they caught a whiff of my Creeping Death. Not every shooter lets you combat the opposition by creating a around yourself. Firefall does.

In a game like Tribes, where everyone's soaring around the map like majestic eagles, the Juggernaut feels about as mobile as an overfed pig. But when you pack this kind of heavy firepower, you don't need to be fast. The Juggernaut's Fusion Mortar launches devastating explosive rounds, letting you bombard the enemy base until the flag runners come home. Once you're able to accurately judge the giant arc of your shot, you'll be a one-man airstrike on any stationary fortification.

But the true beauty of the Juggernaut class is that moment when an enemy zooms by, and you reflexively launch a fiery emerald mortar bomb over the crest of a nearby hill - not where your prey is now, but where they will be in a few seconds. You'll probably be too far away to even see the resulting kill, but it's as joyous as shooting a swish from half court, or that long-bomb snowball throw from Elf.

Ah, Wascot - the evil doppelganger of MNC's smiley mascot Bullseye, and my absolute favorite class from this criminally underplayed shooter. His backstory is perfect: Wascot's an obsessed fan who both adores and wants to murder the foam-headed hypeman for this futuristic bloodsport. But besides the hilarious lore, Wascot's playstyle is an absurdly unique take on close-quarters hit-and-run tactics in shooters.

Getting in someone's face is easy thanks to Wascot's Crook Hook, which yanks him directly to his stunned target - and if anyone tries to throw you, activating Shifty Shuffle will automatically counter them (and give you some lifesteal to boot). Instead of killing players directly, Wascot's primary Coin Launcher weapon shoots damaging doubloons that enemies will foolishly try to collect - it's an ingenious take on Mario Kart's decoy item boxes. And unlike the deadly melee weapons used by other Commando types, like the Assassin's dagger or Captain Sparks' electrified sword, Wascot simply uses a paddle. All the better to spank the opposition with, my dear.

You probably recognize these pillbug-like automatons from The Phantom Menace, where their firepower was enough to make even trained Jedi run away with their lightsabers between their legs (pretty dangerous, if you ask me). They're called Droidekas, and they're an exclusive asset to the Confederacy of Independent Systems in Battlefront's massive multiplayer shootouts. It's what you would get if you took a durable, stationary turret, then gave it the power to zip around in spherical form like AiAi from Super Monkey Ball.

Anyone foolish enough to stand in your way will be gunned down instantly by your dual laser blasters, and your personal shield emitter gives you the ability to act as a slow-moving blockade. But the trick is knowing where you're needed most, because once you've switched forms, you're pretty much committed until your targets are eradicated or you're a scrap heap on the ground.

Do you play Destiny and love the distinct abilities and exclusive armor types worn by your Guardian? Then you absolutely have to try Warframe, because its rich, exotic flavors of player classes make Destiny's trio look like lukewarm vanilla ice cream. Each of the collectible, craftable Warframes acts as both your armor type and your spell selection, and they're all gloriously unique in both form and function.

No matter which Warframe suits your fancy, they're all quite capable of excelling in the missions, though by very different means. Maybe you want to teleport around as the backstabbing Ash, zap targets with weaponized lightning as Volt, become a killer sci-fi airbender as Zephyr, or misdirect enemies with clone decoys as Loki. To me, the 22-and-counting classes feel like rare jewels in a sea of shooter stereotypes. It might cost you a small fortune or years of dedication to unlock them all, but you don't have to play every last Warframe to appreciate their invigorating originality.

Pretty awesome, right? The next class-based shooter I'm stoked for is , which is sure to introduce tons of unique character concepts. For instance, take Tracer (pictured above), who can rewind time mid-firefight. Which oddball shooter class is your favorite? Tell me all about it in the comments below!

And if you're looking for more, check out .

Modern gaming is pretty decent; we have some of the most beautiful looking games of all time and plenty of experimental experiences thanks to the explosion of indie games. However, while the grass is a vibrant shade of green, it’s hard not to notice one or two weeds starting to push their way through this heavy-handed metaphor. You see, games are great and all, but are we really making the most out of them? No.

This is where we get to Trophies. With Sony's virtual silverware now displaying how many people have earned each specific accolade, we can tell not just which individuals have played what, but exactly how the gaming populace as a whole conducts itself. And when we really start sifting through those challenge completion percentages, frankly, it all starts to get a bit bleak. Here are all the grimmest truths bits I’ve gathered while scrabbling through the Trophy gold mines.*

*Due to the ever shifting nature of said mines, some of these stats may have changed since the time of writing. Hopefully for the better.

When is a game “finished”? Is it when you’ve got a 100% sign flashing away on the save file? Or just once you hit the dreaded hour long credits sequence that accompanies most games? Well, it’s none of the above. It’s apparently finished when you put the game down and forget it ever existed, or hurl it into the dreaded pre-owned black hole of your nearest game shop for maybe a few quid, if Alien: Isolation is be anything to go by.

Isolation might have been our 3rd best game of the year, but only 15.7% of PS4 Isolation owners can proudly display the virtual icon telling them they’ve finished the game. Sure, that means 82.3% won’t be having Xenomorph related nightmares anytime in the near future, but they’ve also missed out on the pant-ruining terror that is a Working Joe who wants to explore the inside of your noggin. Also, the last few hours are insanely good. Fire it back up again, you fools!

But why let finishing a game be a problem when you don’t even have to properly start it? Telltale’s The Walking Dead is a fantastic game… although it’s also one that doesn’t require a great deal of actual playing. You hit buttons, but far less often than in other games, and the demands on your arcade skills are almost non-existent. In fact, to get the first Trophy you only need to spend 15 minutes playing. Should be a solid 100% collection rate for that one, right?

Nope; 93.2% of narrative zombie fans completed the arduous task of actually starting a game they spent real money on, according to the Trophy stats. That leaves an astounding 6.8% of players who maybe just saw a dog outside the window and forgot what they were doing. Who has an attention span like that? Wait, before I answer that, is that a French Bulldog..?

We all know the score by now, Tomb Raider is a pretty cool survival-action game where Lara Croft is both the victim and the monster. It’s not all about the queasy thrill of realigning the facial muscles of some poor goons on a deserted island though. There are also some tombs to have a poke around in as well. Hey, considering that the game has ‘Tomb’ in its name, you would think that would be a pretty big deal, to be fair. Let’s get raiding then?

Nope, turns out us gamers really just crave the violence. For instance, only 20.4% bothered to get all the optional tombs explored, whereas 68% of gamers mistook this for archery practice and ensured 50 enemies croaked it at the end of Lara’s bow. Add on the 62.8% of sneaky assassins who ended the lives of 25 unaware guards, and it seems we’ll forsake shelter in any old weather as long as there’s something to kill out there.

Who plays Call of Duty for the single player, ’eh? Isn’t the series now just an online playground for people without filters to vent their frustrations while blasting seven shades of pixels out of each other? Well, sort of. On PS4 CoD: Ghosts, 57% of people own the Trophy for completing the first mission. That’s 56.9% more than I was expecting, admittedly. But still, the first mission.

CoD 4: Modern Warfare still stands as one of the best FPS campaigns of the last generation, but since then, the series multiplayer offerings - both competitive and co-operative - have become increasingly dominant. This Trophy stat really hammers home the possibility that a good proportion of people have now stopped buying the series for it’s story. To look at what CoD campaigns have become - Kevin Spacey parachuted in to paper over the linearly scripted cracks and all - is a sad reminder that its single player has basically become a six hour tutorial for all the new toys in the online death grounds.

Life is full of contrasts. Some trophies, for instance, demand a commitment usually reserved for monks in a brothel. Others only require that you understand how to move your thumbs. In Burnout Paradise, your first task after turning on the game is to bundle your wheeled wreck through an Auto Repair shop, or else find yourself stuck in a death defying junkmobile for the rest of all eternity. You would expect in a game based purely around the concept of driving really fast, getting your car into an acceptable state would be a priority.

It takes some cars longer to get to 0-60 than it does to earn this Trophy and yet only 87.7% of gamers managed it. The only plausible theory is some Dark Souls level of self-imposed challenge. I refuse to believe 12.3% of players loaded up one of the best racers ever assembled and thought it “sod it” before they had even begun.

Back in the days of the PS2, Pro Evolution Soccer was the critical darling to FIFA’s mainstream, sales machine, and its genius was built on the Master League. You created your own team, inherited a squad of players and dragged them all the way to victory. It’s basically football’s version of XCOM, just without the crushing moments of defeat when all your best squad members are brutalized into a coma.

This year’s Master League brings back exactly what you want; bizarrely named players to get far too emotionally attached to. Unfortunately, the PES buying public have seemed to move on, with only 32.1% registering one singular win in Master League. The last-last-gen version of the mode has become nostalgia fuel for plenty of gamers from that golden era, but its latest incarnation will be lucky if people even remember it by the time the next edition rolls around.

Poor Ivory Tower. Years had been spent fine tuning its next-gen debut, an ambitious MMO for petrol heads where the entirety of the US is the play area. It’s online-only, to convince people to team up and form some sort of gang when they race. A crew, if you will. See, it’s such a big part of the game, it’s actually the name of it.

So it must be soul crushing to find that only 52.8% of it’s racers have bothered to have raced in a Crew. I even got my Trophy when I accidentally accepted to join someone’s game. Not everyone wants to have other people spoil their fun, anyone who has ever played online will attest to that. Still, it’s a bit rough for only half your audience buying into the game’s concept.

I can’t really think of any reasons why anybody would not want to play every inch of Rayman: Legends. Personally, I love the game so much that I find it disconcerting that not every Trophy is 100% done. But I get it. It’s pretty much impossible to Platinum the game unless you play its challenges every day for about fifty days. It’s almost understandable that the big P Trophy is hovering around the 2% mark, even if a day with Rayman is ALWAYS better than a day without him.

But it’s the other trophies that make me want to weep for the gaming community. Only 50% have got the Trophy for completing the sublime Castle Rock musical level, where your actions sync up to a cover of Black Betty. If you don’t automatically think that sounds like a good use of your time, then it might be worth reconsidering your outlook on life. Like, really, really hard.

Early on in Wolfenstein’s Nazi-robo-dog slaughtering adventure, the game makes you to decide which one of your allies is going to be dissected by a mad Nazi General. And thanks to Trophy statistics, you can see that everybody made the correct choice in who to save in this scenario. Wait, hang on a minute. Something’s wrong here. You mean isn’t it 100% for Wyatt? You beasts!

Wyatt might have been a naive urchin who was lucky not be sucking down lead every minute of Wolfenstein’s prologue, but who could resist his plucky optimism? 62% of Wolfenstein’s cold hearted, dead-eyed players, that’s who. Fergus had a few things going in his favour - he was first on screen, you shared a life-or-death incident on a plane right at the start of the game, he probably likes the same things you like and smells really good - but it’s still not enough to condemn poor Wyatt to a brain removal. Those are a boy’s hopes and dreams you’re scooping out there.

Singstar might not be a game you particularly want to save for a marathon session, but round up a few people, add in some drinks, and it’s karaoke without the usual full quotient of humiliation. Or at least with a vague semblance of gamification to distract you from the humiliation. But, according to the darkest recesses of the Trophy list, you can also rap on Singstar. Why would Singstar do that?

I’ll gladly partake when nobody’s looking, but unless you are certified, actually-good-at-it rapper, that should be the only time any of us should attempt to spit some bars. We all make mistakes, and in the drunken haze of 2:45am, I could see how showing off your flow to something as innocuous as Pretty Fly (For A White Guy) could seem like a good idea. But to unlock “That’s A Rap”, just like 4.6% of real people did, you need to complete an actual rap song five times. A horror that great should not be allowed to exist.

Kittens! Mario! A nice brew on a Sunday morning! Feel better? Good. That particular tour of the depressing state of modern gaming could have turned most of us into Morrissey. Are there any gaming behaviours that send you into a spiral of despair? Or better yet, which ones have brought a wry smile to your face?

Looking for more features to consume, you rabid over-achiever? Check out , for there are prizes to be had!*

*There are totally no prizes.

Christmas is a tricky time of year. In addition to working out how to eat your own body weight in Pringles and little sausages wrapped in bacon (without being sick all over your Grandmother's eyes), you need to work out what game (or games) to play during that magical work-free / school-free / parole period. And there are many, many guides clogging up the internet, telling you what to play. I counted at least 37 of them. Never fear, though, your old friend GamesRadar+ is here. He's drunk, belligerent, and has some advice for you.

Following the success of my feature earlier this year, which got me nominated for no fewer than zero Pulitzer awards, I turned to another trusty member of the Game Of Thrones cast to give his take on 2014's best. After spending roughly a week getting his phone number from Hodor, I contacted Jon Snow to tell me his top picks for what to play this Christmas. The results are enlightening.

Jon Snow says: Sorry, I know nothing about this game.

Hmm, not the reaction I was expecting. Oh well, it's a bit much to ask someone to play every game in 2014.

Jon Snow says: Sorry, don't know anything about this one either.

Oh. Not a COD fan, eh? Look, I get that. I skipped Modern Warfare to put more time into Destiny, so am sure he did the same.

Jon Snow says: Nope, no knowledge of this game either.

Really? I mean everyone has an opinion on Destiny. Where have you been all year, Snow? Beyond the fucking wall?

Jon Snow says: You are going to hate me... I don't know anything about this.

Not ringing any bells, Snow? Our #2 Game of the Year? Big RPG? BioWare? Dragons? Dwarf rufty? NOTHING? Are you trolling me?

Jon Snow says: Um, well, this is awkward. Literally no knowledge of this game.

Christ-on-a-bike, Snow. You're winding me up, yeah?

Jon Snow says: Sorry, not heard of FIFA.

Seriously? Because it's the official game of the biggest sport on the planet. It has been running for decades. Just fake a goddam opinion. No wonder everyone calls you the bastard.

Jon Snow says: Um... I've got nothing.

Yeah, fair play, no-one bought LBP3.

Jon Snow says: This game is really... um... it's kind of. I really like the, er, robots in it... Dragon-robots. Yeah...

You don't know what the hell you're talking about, do you, Snow?

Jon Snow says: I... uh...

Don't even bother.

Jon Snow says: Wait, is that Dragon Age?

Fuck sake.

Well, that was insightful. I'm calling your agent, Jon Snow, and telling them how utterly useless you are. I might as well have been talking to fucking geese. Even Hodor had an opinion on these games, even if it was the same fucking one. You? Yes, you, the one staring at the screen making that 'I'm not amused by your jokes' look. Have an opinion? Good. Leave it below, and show Jon Snow how it's done.

Want more hilarious features that are based on repeating the same joke until it gets funny? I've made a career out of those. Here's . Actually, that's still pretty funny.

Christmas is a tricky time of year. In addition to working out how to eat your own body weight in Pringles and little sausages wrapped in bacon (without being sick all over your Grandmother's eyes), you need to work out what game (or games) to play during that magical work-free / school-free / parole period. And there are many, many guides clogging up the internet, telling you what to play. I counted at least 37 of them. Never fear, though, your old friend GamesRadar+ is here. He's drunk, belligerent, and has some advice for you.

Following the success of my feature earlier this year, which got me nominated for no fewer than zero Pulitzer awards, I turned to another trusty member of the Game Of Thrones cast to give his take on 2014's best. After spending roughly a week getting his phone number from Hodor, I contacted Jon Snow to tell me his top picks for what to play this Christmas. The results are enlightening.

Jon Snow says: Sorry, I know nothing about this game.

Hmm, not the reaction I was expecting. Oh well, it's a bit much to ask someone to play every game in 2014.

Jon Snow says: Sorry, don't know anything about this one either.

Oh. Not a COD fan, eh? Look, I get that. I skipped Modern Warfare to put more time into Destiny, so am sure he did the same.

Jon Snow says: Nope, no knowledge of this game either.

Really? I mean everyone has an opinion on Destiny. Where have you been all year, Snow? Beyond the fucking wall?

Jon Snow says: You are going to hate me... I don't know anything about this.

Not ringing any bells, Snow? Our #2 Game of the Year? Big RPG? BioWare? Dragons? Dwarf rufty? NOTHING? Are you trolling me?

Jon Snow says: Um, well, this is awkward. Literally no knowledge of this game.

Christ-on-a-bike, Snow. You're winding me up, yeah?

Jon Snow says: Sorry, not heard of FIFA.

Seriously? Because it's the official game of the biggest sport on the planet. It has been running for decades. Just fake a goddam opinion. No wonder everyone calls you the bastard.

Jon Snow says: Um... I've got nothing.

Yeah, fair play, no-one bought LBP3.

Jon Snow says: This game is really... um... it's kind of. I really like the, er, robots in it... Dragon-robots. Yeah...

You don't know what the hell you're talking about, do you, Snow?

Jon Snow says: I... uh...

Don't even bother.

Jon Snow says: Wait, is that Dragon Age?

Fuck sake.

Well, that was insightful. I'm calling your agent, Jon Snow, and telling them how utterly useless you are. I might as well have been talking to fucking geese. Even Hodor had an opinion on these games, even if it was the same fucking one. You? Yes, you, the one staring at the screen making that 'I'm not amused by your jokes' look. Have an opinion? Good. Leave it below, and show Jon Snow how it's done.

Want more hilarious features that are based on repeating the same joke until it gets funny? I've made a career out of those. Here's . Actually, that's still pretty funny.