Sundays are for realising that after playing The Blood of Dawnwalker, you’ve developed a craving for blackcurrant juice. There’s none in the cupboard, so you venture out to get some, floating across the rooftops as a trail of mist as you go. You arrive at the supermarket, fangs bared and claws out. You parry and dodge attackers armed with trollies as you fight your way up the aisles.