Where am I?
Using the following clues (the map above is purely decorative) in combination with Street View, work out my location.
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3×3
Want to turn a green lane into a brown lane, tow a Gulaschkanone across a snowy field, or roam the Western Desert trashing Axis airfields? Get a 4×4. Want quick introductions to games of interest to realism relishers and old fogies? Read a 3×3. Prior to penning one of these articles I’ll play three tempting titles for at least three hours each. While it would be cavalier to call the reports that result from such brief auditions ‘reviews’, it’s conceivable they might lead to more prolonged playtests, and prompt or prevent the odd purchase.
Friday Foxer #168
Every Friday, Tally-Ho Corner’s cleverest clogs come together to solve a ‘foxer’ handcrafted by my sadistic chum and colleague, Roman. A complete ‘defoxing’ sometimes takes several days and usually involves the little grey cells of many readers. All are welcome to participate.
Where am I?
Using the following clues (the map above is purely decorative) in combination with Street View, work out my location.
Fourthoughts: The Horsemen of the Apocalypse talk video games (part 2)
They laughed in the face of PC Gamer, told Gamespot to feck off, and pushed Rock Paper Shotgun into a really deep bit of the Kennet & Avon canal. The only place on the ludological internet where you’ll find an interview with the world’s scariest equestrian quartet is here on Tally-Ho Corner.
Friday Foxer #167
This week’s handmade co-op puzzle won’t defox itself. If you’re a dab hand at quizzes, lateral thinking, and search engine sleuthing, why not help out.
Where am I?
Using the following clues (the map above is purely decorative) in combination with Street View, work out my location.
Fourthoughts: The Horsemen of the Apocalypse talk video games (part 1)
The following interview is the result of a chance encounter I had last Sunday on a bridle path in Savernake Forest. It might have been the sickly-sweet aroma of decay that wafted from their steaming mounts. It might have been the way the glossy ivy withered, and the ebullient robins lapsed into silence, as they passed… something told me that this particular party of clip-cloppers didn’t hail from the local riding school.