You didn’t think I’d pass up an opportunity to ring in the new year, née the decade, in PlayStation Home, did you? Well, actually, I did, but I did spend some time there in the hours leading up to midnight. So come on everybody, gather around the elf, in front of the creepy snowman, and let’s go on a magical adventure!

This guy has an orange glow-in-the-dark dumbbell. He must be awesome.

Note the terrifying mask to the bottom right. This actually gave me a fright when a fuzzy “Ho ho ho!” came from somewhere in Father Christmas’s nether regions.

It’s like looking into a mirror. A broken convex mirror, covered in dirt.

The elves run a dodgy market stall, with shoddy rip-offs at extortionate prices.

They also operate 24 hour CCTV.

An awkward moment.

Gah! What the hell? I’m being attacked by those pesky buttons. And since when the hell was the circle pink and the square purple?

A giant PSN logo, great.

Guns, to fight off possible invasions from Nintendo or Microsoft.

I find myself on a beach. I’m a survivor of Oceanic flight 815. 4 8 15 16 23 42.

I hook up with some of my fellow survivors, and quickly create a virtual version of The Nolans. I explained to them that I wasn’t a girl, and they were deeply shocked.

I am kidnapped by one of The Others.

This guy is, uh, floating…he’s floating. That’s…that’s normal. Perhaps even more worrying is the fact that he’s wearing a gas mask.

…

I put on something more fitting of Winter (it’s so me), and head out onto the dancefloor.

There are pretty lights on the floor that make nice colours and shapes when you walk around, but when you take a photo they mysteriously disappear.

Meanwhile, an unhappy couple sit in the Corner Of Melancholy.

Yeah, this is without a doubt one of the worst New Year’s Eves ever.

All the world’s a stage and all the mean and women merely players! Sadly there isn’t an option to throw yourself off.