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Apr 18th, 2012 at 03:52:18 - Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas (PS2) |
As a general do gooder, I've always been adverse to the GTA formula since the options for doing good deeds or being heroic are limited essentially to boring side missions, which you can only even begin by stealing the appropriate vehicle (cop car/bike, ambulance) which is a whopping bunch of irony right there. This irony gave me an idea. The game began with my character arriving in San Andreas (though actually, I think the subtitle said liberty city, so I'm not quite sure if I'm even in San Andreas yet), and Samuel L. Jackson giving a hard time. This was followed by a very loud funeral and a ridiculous bike chase sequence. Now, I value story in games. This game’s story so far was proving to be more zany than tough (as the characters were seemingly trying to be). As I do with most GTA games, I eventually die, and get transported to the hospital. It is from here my focus leaves my body.
For some strange reason, the trek back to the place where the mission starts (the one after I got a pizza) looked so daunting. So, in my procrastination, my mind concocted a persona: that of the Irony Killer. See, as the irony killer, I would find the nearest hooker (they tended to carry knives), "commandeer" said weapon, strip down to nothing save my skiivies, and proceed to sneak up on and stab unsuspecting people in the neck all whilst sporting and afro/beard combination. I would continue this, running around behind houses like a madman until a cop appeared.
At this point, I would kill the cop, steal his motorbike or car, and ride off into the night to bring evildoers to justice. Rule Utilitarianism drove my actions, for I murdered my own gang members (again, for irony’s sake) as well as other game members for the greater good. Hookers fell to my cold steel of justice, as I ran like the jersey devil, naked as the day I was born, in backyards and on freeways. I even jumped on the hood of a car to ride it around, to substantiate my existence to passerbys, to make sure they know I am watching over them as they sleep. Well, maybe a few of them were innocent, but merely causalities of circumstance, lives given up for the sustained happiness of the city. The cop who would greet me was not a victim, but merely a new vessel for me to assume. With the swing of my knife, his gun became a weapon to purge those who fled in cars. I must finish for now, but perhaps I shall go along with these “friends” I have in the game, though their mere existence as gang members renders them targets. Their demise is imminent, just as soon as they are of no more use/the story lets me. Tomorrow night, beware citizens of San Andreas, for Irony Jack will be there to protect you with a blade that has tasted many a delinquent’s neck.
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