“You have a downed hero!” the screen informed me, and yes, there, surrounded by some really quite obstreperous aliens, the square-jawed, tough-talking, fast-shooting Sergeant Forge was down, possibly bleeding to death. But you know what? After an hour of Sgt Forge and his gravel-voiced heroics, I couldn’t have cared less.

All over the world computer game enthusiasts have been getting quite giddy with excitement about the release of Halo Wars, the latest game in the Halo franchise. And no, I have to admit that I was not one of them. Not only have I never so much as handled an X-Box console in my life, the last time I played a video game the hottest thing around was a new game called Space Invaders.

I was, quite clearly, ideally qualified to review Halo Wars. Other, younger gamers might have better informed opinions about the quality of the graphics, or be able to say whether the multi-player map line-up is all it is cracked up to be; I, with the wisdom of my years, would be able to judge the important questions, such as: Are games like this an acceptable pastime for a grown-up? Do they come close to the visceral, edge-of-the-seat excitement of sitting down to do the crossword over a nice cup of tea? And could even a grumpy old cynic like me be sucked into their violent, digital world?

Learning to use the game was fun of sorts. I selected my attack force; I built my base camp; I discovered that if you hold down the right-hand button thingy you can make the screen go round and round until you are dizzy. I also learnt that when you go on an attack, you have to tell your troops to follow you, otherwise it won’t go terribly well.

That was the first time Sgt Forge went down. I discovered that he could be healed just by hanging out near him, allowing me to re-group and start all over again. If only war was always this easy.

Another attempt to give the bad guys a bloody nose, only by this time the dialogue was getting to me. “That was the most fun I’ve had all week.” “I’m approving the mission, but the slightest sign of danger and I’m pulling you out.” Where did they get this stuff? The Bumper Book of Movie Cliches?

This time I remembered to take my marines. Not that it made much difference. A lot of purple aliens ran round shooting at me, and a message flashed up: “You have a downed hero.” Sigh. Take this, Sgt Forge, it will make you feel better.

More guns, more flashes, more bangs. It looked better than Space Invaders, I’ll admit, but wasn’t any more involving. Now, where’s that Sgt Forge? Oh dear, he’s been shot again. Goodbye, Sgt Forge. You died a hero.

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