Once Frozen Synapse takes hold, it can be a difficult addiction to shake

The stage is set. An ecclectic mix of crude geometry and simplistic lines, with a neon blue hue illuminating my face as I sit and stare - weighing up every possible option as I guess and double guess myself, agonizing over every click of my mouse. Standing like mannequins my group of performers await my orders.

What moves will my opponent make? What steps will they take? What are they thinking? The thoughts tumble around in my head as I sit, transfixed. I've never doubted myself as much as I do at this moment, with the constant pressure of ever prying eyes staring at the exact same screen of possibilities.

The pressure is too much; I walk away, I sleep on it, and upon my return the solution is as clear as day. Squares, not x's, mark the spot, as I intricately choreograph my performers to the most minute of details.

And then the moment comes, the stage is set and the performers are as prepared as they'll ever be, as I throw fear and anxiety aside, hitting "Prime" as the curtains rise.

My troupe move in perfect harmony, beginning the most intricate dance of death you're ever likely to see. Every single piece begins to re-enact their plans to perfection, all singular minds working together.

They move left, right, forwards, backwards as gunfire and explosions create a swelling symphony to accompany the action. Some hit their targets, others fall in the process and unforseen circumstances lead to unnecessary consequences.

My latter overconfidence leaves me sitting in a precarious position as my last troupe member is left standing, carrying out his final orders. Gracefully traversing every inch of that neon-blue stage, popping in and out of cover in perfect synchronisation.

The closing scene plays out like all of the planning had hoped it would, the tumultuous middle section forgotten as the performance ends with a bang.

Rocket fire disintegrates large portions of the set as grenades bounce around rythmically, a singular shot bringing everything to an end. A firefight has never held such an inherent beauty.

And then I hear it, a noise erupts like a crowd chearing, the constant "ding, ding, ding!" of a new email arriving in my inbox.
 

"Frozen Synapse: ElPrezAU has challenged you to a game"

The crowd chear "Encore!", and I oblige.