A chipmunk off the old block

Despite the misleading name, Valhalla and the Lord of Infinity is to Viking lore what Viking the stationers is to, erm... well, Viking lore. Plotwise, it revolves around the protagonist's quest to reclaim his rightful title as heir to the Throne of the Kingdom of Infinity. I expect he didn't realise at the time there would be more to it than filling in a couple of bureaucratic, box-ticking forms. Not that he'll encounter anything more riveting, roaming around barren dungeons mumbling into crepuscular nothingness in chipmonkese, praying to bump into the loathly Lords of Infinity whose vocation is to hobble his uninspiring mission. If only they'd give him a piece of their mind and a bloody nose he'd have an inkling he exists as a sentient entity.

Instead, what calves a niche in our grey matter of remembrance is Lord's awkward Prince Charles-channeling trudging stoop of pomposity. That and his quirky propensity to gawp up at the heavens to converse with his master, we the deistic player towering above.