
Starting out as an imprisoned weakling in a potato sack and wrist shackles you're entrusted with protecting the Emperor of Tamriel, Uriel Septim (silky, booming tones courtesy of Patrick Stewart). Inevitably, things go awry and the Emperor gets himself assassinated by the Mythic Dawn, a rogue cult embroiled in the dark, daedric arts. You can probably guess what happens next. It's up to your tailor-made avatar to go out into the big, bad world and locate the rightful heir to the throne of Tamriel. Oh, and close the perpetual Oblivion gates that have sprung up out of nowhere spewing forth demonic minions. Easy peasy. This main quest is merely the wafer thin meniscus on a tall, heady brew that comprises ES IV: Oblivion. You don't even have to

The green, green grass of Cyrodiil.
Cyrodiil is arguably the most rich, detailed, sprawling world ever to be rendered digitally. It is a thoroughly convincing, solid and lavish universe, unimpeded by pop-up, seam ripping or any kind of graphical glitches. The sole annoyance is the split-second loading times, which only stand out because you unavoidably sink into a hypnotic, trance-like stupor as you traverse the picturesque landscape. This tiny, insignificant interruption momentarily snaps you out of your comatose state and reminds you that you're still playing a game. Pointing faults out with such an ambitious and accomplished title seems puerile, akin to criticising a naked Scarlett Johanssen because she has a fungal nail infection.

Oblivion is one of the best arguments for purchasing a nice, big HD TV. On a standard-def telly, Oblivion still looks great, but in HD, it looks extraordinary. Textures are truly eye-popping, night skies are illuminated by millions of tiny ethereal stars and giant distant planets, rain creates tiny ripples on the surface of a lake and greenery looks lush, vibrant, alive. Cyrodiil is so breathtakingly beautiful that you can almost taste the mountain air, smell the grass and trees; drink it all in, it's your world to explore to your heart's content. And discovering everything will take weeks, months of extensive play as there's oceans of depth in here, hundreds of quests and tasks to discover, numerous paths to follow, many different roads to travel.
Cyrodiil boasts a massive population of NPCs, no two the same, each possessing their own agenda, politics and beliefs. Talking to them all is a mission in itself, there's a lot of repetition in what people say-for instance close the Kvatch Oblivion gate and be prepared to hear half the population drone on about how honoured they are to meet the 'hero of Kvatch.' Flattering the first few times, it makes you feel like a Cyrodiil celebrity, but after the 300th time it grates a tad. You can skip any irrelevant lines of dialogue so it's really not a problem; it's just us, trying to pick tiny holes in the game because it's otherwise flawless. There must be millions of lines of dialogue, so repetition is forgivable and pretty scarce. Forget we said anything.
Some might argue (cough, Landon) that the combat is "unfair, clunky, basic," which is half-true. It takes a fair bit of levelling up before you become comfortable with your character, swinging your chosen weapon with a modicum of finesse, unimpeded by mud crabs, rats, wolves, imps, scamps and other irritating little creatures. It's then that Oblivion really comes into its own as combat and spell casting becomes second nature and flows naturally. For the impatient amongst you (cough, Landon), The Shed urges you to stick with it, it's more than worth it, because Oblivion is an instant classic, a genre-defining RPG that has to be seen to be believed. If you're not already a fan of RPGs, this is your best chance to get on board and become a convert. Not convinced? Just play it. Still not convinced? Then you should probably check your pulse because chances are, you're probably dead inside.
Level up: 10/10