Five Things I Learned from a Weekend in Los Santos
Written by: Adam "ManKorn" Korenman, CC2K Video Games Editor
1) We Are All Monsters Underneath
Excuse me, do I have something on my face?
There are no nice people in Los Santos. Despite the economic upturn, suburbanization and urban renewal, the town is just filled with murderers. Brimming with them, even. This is because, when given a consequence-free environment, people will invariably become monsters.
As Dr. Cox once so elloquently put it in Scrubs…
Don’t believe me? Ask Marina Abramovic, the New York performance artist who submitted herself to a crowd of strangers. With the knowledge that there would be no reprisal, and with 72 weapons to choose from, perfectly nice people slashed Marina’s skin and smacked her face. For six hours. I’m not saying that Rockstar was attempting to open our eyes when they began developing GTA O, I’m just letting you know the outcome.
People will go out of their way to run you over. They will go onto rooftops and snipe you. God help us when these people find fighter jets and attack helicopters and start raining Hell down on the poor citizenry.
In my case, let’s go back to that first guy who decided to steal my car and murder me. Like most games, the death screen informed of my killer’s name, and even offered to invite him for a private match. I wanted to be sporting, so I sent the message, but was rebuffed. I figured that hey, it was one dude in a game of just over a dozen. I was sure I’d never see him again.
A few minutes later, he ran me down in the street. With my own car.
This face. This face for DAYS
I could have done what any normal person would when being bullied and simply left. The off button would have quickly and summarily ended this hostile relationship, and left me free to go about my day and accomplish real things. But then I would be letting this bastard win, and that just wasn’t in the cards.
Opening up my GPS, I set my archnemesis as my destination. Then I paid a visit to my local AmmuNation gun store to pick up supplies. As I was a lower level player, my options were limited. Still, I remained confident as I left the building, laden down with thousands of rounds of ammunition. After stealing a ride and driving a few minutes, I found him.
He was smashing my car into a wall, perhaps because he was stuck against some unseen object, though in my mind it was just another slight against me. I drew my pistol, walked calmly to the driver’s side window, and emptied the magazine. Then I took back my car and got it fixed up. But I wasn’t done yet.
For almost an hour I plagued this unwitting villain, visiting my vengeance upon his hapless digital form again and again. By the time it was over, his blood had drenched the streets six more times. He did eventually realize that I had targeted him for death, and he tried to fight back. But I was unstoppable, like Liam Neeson in any movie of the last five years.
When he finally quit in disgust, I felt elated, as though I had achieved some sort of victory. Only later did I realize what I had become. A monster. A cartoon villain. And worse yet, it had been damned fun.
Rockstar has created a mirror into which humanity can look and see its true form, and it is ugly. And, maybe, the best damned gaming experience in history.