It’s easy to debate who are the biggest players in social networking, whether you’re a Myspace fan, Facebook obsessive, or quoting the Latin, Asian, Indian or Brazilian audience of Hi5 or Orkut. (Incidentally, I signed up for Orkut today, completing my membership of the big four and I have to say, it feels a bit unfinished…seems like it’s all back end, no front end.)

But there’s one social network which could be more influential, if not pervasive. There are times when I take it for granted, but Xbox Live is truly one of the great networks of our time.

With the box next to my TV, I can play games on and offline, and watch DVDs. I can also download demos of games, new content for existing games, and complete smaller arcade games, including the likes of Sonic The Hedgehog and old arcade games.

When payment is required, it’s a one button confirmation, billed to my credit card with pre-paid points.

And the same points can be used to purchase downloadable videos etc, with pay-per-view films coming to the UK soon.

If I’m playing a different game to my friends, one button brings up a list to message them, or invite them into private voice chat, whilst I can continue to play. And I can compare the achievements of all my games, to those of my friends

And I can listen to custom soundtracks from CD’s, or my portable hard drive, at the same time as doing all of this.

15 years ago (Making me feel old), this would have seemed about as likely as jetcars, as I carried my 486 to someone’s house for a LAN party using ethernet cards, lots of shouting, and eventually some four player Doom.

And how many hours have I put in? I know there are at least two games which have claimed my time of at least 50 days each…And another 15 or so games on my played list.

I know the service is a walled garden, with a small window looking out at Windows Live Messenger, and a skylight from which a feed can escape to sites displaying gamertags, and even blogs written by Xbox 360s. But, like Facebook, it’s so comfortable, that trying to escape is like trying to rouse yourself from a comfy armchair after a Sunday roast dinner.