When I was a kid, I was only allowed to play video games on Fridays and Saturdays – an attempt by my parents to keep my gaming passion under control. For the rest of the week, I was happy doing other things and reading my Nintendo magazines, but come Friday evening, I was ready to pick up a controller. I would stock up on Haribo and fizzy juice on the way home from school in preparation for an evening in front of the TV. My parents, presumably grateful for a few hours of peace, would throw a Pizza Hut delivery through the door of the spare room where our games consoles lived and leave my brother and I to it. We would sit and play Zelda or Diddy Kong Racing or another parent-approved, non-violent obsession of the day until we were commanded to go to bed.