Nintendo have been lying to us right from the very beginning. Even with the likes of Super Mario Bros. back on now ancient NES, they have tricked us. Even with the limited technology available to them, they managed to convince gamers that videogames can be a gateway into new worlds, into hundreds upon hundreds of marvellous alternative universes, each one completely different from the next. Pick up your control pad, or take your Game Boy out of its briefcase-sized carry case, and instantly be transported into a new world � a different world inside every oversized games cartridge.

Bollocks. Until very recently, I believed that every videogame had its own unique idiosyncrasies, even if ideas in the gameplay were the same. Maybe the moves your character can pull off are similar to those in Generic Platformer #237, but the worlds are always varied, right? Surely the developers have their own creativity and flair when it comes to designing the environments for your characters to frolic or, indeed, kill each other in? Hah. People talk about how originality is scarce in games nowadays, and they have no idea how right they are. In my opinion, there's only one world as far as videogames are concerned � and while it's certainly enormous, the same rules apply, no matter where you go.

For example, in the many videogames I have played over the years (ah, so many years wasted with a joypad in my palms) I have travelled to various exotic locales. Hundreds upon hundreds of towns complete with no more than ten members of each community. One of these is almost always a wise person who will help you with your quest (by the way, your quest is to save the town/world/universe/old man by retrieving a legendary stone/treasure/key/hat). He must travel a lot too, I see him in almost every RPG. We have some sort of tavern or teahouse, with a young girl behind the bar (with blonde hair and oversized � and, depending on the age of the game, pointy breasts) and an old man with a beard sitting in the corner making some throwaway comment about the town you're currently in while swigging from an empty beer mug. There's another suspicious chap in the bar, too, but he won't say much � not until you've completed a certain proportion of the quest. Then come back to him, and the fact you've completed 37% of the game and now not only hold a key item (usually some sort of shiny thing) but wield a huge axe that somehow fits into a backpack that is smaller than your head loosens his tongue a great deal. Even though you are not actually capable of equipping the giant axe inside the tavern. What's the matter? Ceiling too low?

You then become bored of all these repetitive stereotypes, and, in search of something to do, you leave the town (pick a town, any town) and head east, then north. You'll kill precisely seven enemies along the way before you come across a dungeon. There's a guard who stands there day and night without ever moving � not even to take a leak � and won't let you pass. Thankfully, you saved the old man's hat earlier, so you can enter. Okay, time for the standard dungeon traps (except it might not be a dungeon. It might be a cave or a castle, a moon base or even a tree). Spend half an hour crossing the miraculous pit of wonder � miraculous because if you fall in, you land just outside the entrance again. Amazing thing, gravity. When you've defeated all the enemies in the next room, open the chest that wasn't there a second ago and take out the key that allows you to backtrack and open the room you passed on the way to this room so that you can fight the mini-boss and retrieve the bigger key that pops out of his stomach so the room where you unlock a new weapon is opened... Confused yet? Brilliant, role playing games, aren't they? No wonder gamers are perceived as nerds � you need to be some kind of prodigy to even keep track of where you are and what the hell is going on. Just before you finally reach the Big Door which has the Big Boss behind it (here's a tip: confuse it, then attack its head and repeat twice more), you have to talk to the old man from the town - who inexplicably made his way through the same puzzles and traps that it's taken the great hero that you are bloody ages to work through � so he can give you some final advice. You walk into the next room, defeat the boss (easy when you know how, eh?) and magically appear outside again. Lather, rinse and repeat for the duration of the game. And that's just RPGs! Still with me?

First person shooters are little better. With my standard, grey and black assault rifle clasped firmly in my hands, I head off to a distant alien world or some kind of nuclear weapons facility in order to, uh, save the world. Again. Equipped with some sort of amazing technology that somehow, bizarrely, allows me to survive attacks from any number of mindless soldiers that attack me. If I can kill them in three shots, how come it takes thirty to kill me?

But FPS games are often quite educational. Even while I search the customary weapons facility and passing through the customary metal sliding doors, I discover new things about the world I'm strolling through. For example, I had no idea that crates could be destroyed with two bullets! And I don't know what they keep in these crates that litter the levels, but they always seem to explode after that couple of shots. But apparently, any large computers are indestructible. Most of them even seem to deflect bullets � no chance of wasting precious ammo by inscribing my name on the monitor, then.

This doesn't just apply to the human world, though. Did you know aliens are more similar to humans than we give them credit for? I've visited many different planets in the games I've played, and so far the only distinguishing feature I've noticed between Earth and these so-called alien worlds is the colour of the walls. Pink, green or blue, instead of grey and brown. There also tend to be a few psychedelic patterns on the walls and some rather unusual furnishings. Wait, that's not an alien planet! It's Earth in the 70s! For hostile, world-dominating all-powerful alien species, they're not very creative, really. Especially when it comes to architecture � all the corridors are the same, no matter where you go in the galaxy.

One final thought I have as far as first person shooters are concerned is to do with the size of my pockets. When I took to acting like a midget and running around a temple in a bowler hat with my friends when I received Goldeneye 64 on that magical Christmas years ago, how come I was capable of carrying more weapons on my person than any terrorist group you'd care to name? Plus I had lasers. They don't have lasers in Iraq.

Platform games are the most deceptive games of them all, as far as tricking the average consumer goes. When it comes to making gamers believe that there are, in fact, numerous gaming worlds, platformers are the experts. They lie through their teeth. Unless you count Generic Fire World, Generic Water World and (gasp) Generic Ice World as whole new realm of excitement, there really is nothing more to them!

Anyway, moving on, platformers have always bothered me for a number of reasons. The 2D side-scrolling platformer being one of the first genres which I played at the beginning of my gaming career, I've always had a number of questions. For example, why do you always have to collect little coins, pellets, rings � whatever, just for the sake of injecting a little tedium into the game? It makes no difference � you get an extra life after collecting 100 of the buggers, no matter what shape they are. Also, if you're going to have some sort of weapon � at least make it something relatively dangerous! We've had everything from the water pack to the frying pan to the boomerang to actually throwing limbs at people (yes, even before Rayman. Ever play Plok on the SNES?) � but very rarely are we actually given a gun to waste our foes with. I applaud the imagination of developers as far as attacks are concerned, but come on. We would all love to see Mario with a little flick knife, threatening passing Goombas. Sonic with a sword, fencing with Eggman. Rayman with a rocket launcher � and only because I'd love to see him try and rest it over his shoulder.

Also, how come you rarely play as a human in platformers? I know this isn't true for some games (most notably Mario, and others) but in the majority of platformers you play as an animal! The powers that be don't like animal cruelty in games, but it's alright if you're playing as the animal, and if the animal is wearing racing shoes or a blue jacket? For some reason, people don't mind if, say, Sonic, Ty, Donkey Kong or Conker fall into a pit and are impaled on jagged spikes. And you thought you knew roadkill?

Yes, the world of videogames is certainly a mad one, with each game holding more similarities to the next than we give them credit for - with all these conventions and staples appearing in every game from Mario to Halo. Surely the fact that I've noticed all of these and poured my blood, sweat, and tears into writing about them, stubby fingers tapping away on the keyboard, shows how dedicated a gamer I am. Hmm. Maybe I should get out more.

Until next time, amigos.

[email protected]