I appreciate that this makes me sound like a decrepit geriatric, but thick colds give me the sensation of being strapped to a waterbed during an earthquake, theme park rides render me clammy and woozy, and when I made the mistake, a couple of days before Christmas, of looking at my phone while in the back of a cab, I came so close to "airing my stomach" that I wound down the window and started screaming at passers-by.
Suffice to say, I've not played anything in VR since Resident Evil VII - which was great and all that, but resulted in me fleeing outside to vomit over my neighbour's fence. Old-fashioned it may be, but I'm of an age where I prefer entertainment which doesn't make me throw-up.
And then there's the other thing which was putting me off using my PSVR: the wires.
It was a faff-and-a-half to set up. The floor around my TV already resembles an eel farm, and the PSVR invited a fresh bed (the collective term for eels, apparently) to join this "liquorice orgy". It was only a matter of time until the wires got all knotted, and my bun-fisted behaviour ended up ripping off one of the HDMI connectors. And that is indeed what has happened. Which is fine, because I didn't want to play the thing anyway - because of the "ralphing".
And yet... VR as an idea still appeals. I get why people think it's the future. I get the potential. And thus, because it takes me a long time to learn my lesson, just before Christmas I splashed out on a mid-range Oculus Go in the hope that it would offer some family-friendly whimsy.
Behold, then, a very belated review of this.