UncleJun
Posts: 23377
Joined: 7/11/2005
From: Not Here
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Sweet cabbage-eating Christ.
Am I imagining it, or does this game occasionally conspire against you in some mass effort to infuriate you beyond what you thought possible? Case in point:
I've been doing the street races lately, and only one remained. The Star Junction race. Now, I rang Brucie and asked if there were any races going. He said no. Even though there was. So I thought maybe it had something to do with the time of day. So I left it a while. Tried again. No races. Tried again later, no races. Brucie is bullshitting me. Then it occured to me that maybe I had to be in a specific part of the island, so I tried various places. Eventually, he deemed me worthy of telling this great secret to. Gee whiz, thanks a lot Kibbutz. So off I went to find a suitable car. I never go for the fast cars because the AI on the other drivers is so ludicrous that there would be no point. So I always choose one of those long, four door things. Certainly not the fastest car, but good handling. I went to the starting line and saw that my opponents were all driving sleek, super speedy Lamborghini type things. "This'll be easy I thought." What a jackass. I knew that the only way I would win this race rests on the corners. On the straight roads, I wouldn't stand a chance. But on the bends, they would always crash into walls and apparently forget about the existence of breaks. And so it went. I quickly took the lead and saw no sign of my opponents. Then it happened.
The conspiracy.
Every single driver in the game picked up their walkie talkies and communicated with each other. Their mission brief? Fuck him up. Fuck him up good and proper. Thus, cars spontaneously changed lanes in front of me, causing me to swerve. Cars were parked in the road just around corners out of sight, causing me to crash into the back of them. My car soon resembled the aftermath of a crash in a Paris tunnel. Smoke began to billow from the engine. I didn't have long left. As I approached the end of the third lap, I breathed a sigh of relief. As I crossed the finish line, I was not greeted with a congratulations. No, instead I was greeted with the wonderful news that this race was five laps. Son of a bitch. I bravely continued with the race, knowing that I was doomed. "Fuck him up. Fuck him up good and proper, the bastard is still going." Bang. Another crash. The fire emerged. The tyres and engine were engulfed in flame. I leapt from the speeding car and it veered off into the distance, hopefully exploding and killing an innocent hotdog vendor. I was then told that I had one minute to find a car. Okay, easy enough. A car, a car, a car. What the hell? There are no cars. There are no cars anywhere. Where are all the cars? There was not a single car on the roads. Not a taxi, not a rundown, rusty piece of junk. Nothing. Well, thanks a lot. All those drivers who plotted my destruction have now simultaneously gone into hiding, laughing at me from a distance. Zoooooooooom. The others cars all roared past me, giggling at my misfortune. One of them even took the opportunity to drive right into me and send me flailing into the air. What a thoroughly nice chap. "You lost". No shit.
I hate you Grand Theft Auto.
If that wasn't enough to give me the urge to drop boulders onto people's heads, the following certainly was. I wanted to find a bike to perform a unique jump. Just a bike. It's not a huge demand. But where the bloody hell are the bikes? I can't find any. I drove all around the middle island and saw no bikes at all. Don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.
I hate the police. One star wanted levels are the worst thing in the world. Worse than war, disease, famine and Ubisoft's King fucking Kong. Why is it that anytime you accidentally mow down a stupid pedestrian who can't move fast enough, there just happens to be a cop standing right next to him? And why is it that as you try to evade this wanted level and move closer to the edge of the search circle, another cop magically appears on a street, spots you and you're back to square one?
I have always been a believer that games are not responsible for violent acts. I have always laughed at the stupidity of people who believe that playing a Grand Theft Auto or a Manhunt will turn you into a knife-wielding psychopath. But now I firmly believe that they are at fault. It is not my suggestion that games make you violent with the images contained within. No Sir, my contention is that games are so infuriatingly annoying that they drive you to madness and send you spiralling into a pit of despair and mental torture.
I want to cry.
_____________________________
There once was a salt and vinegar flavoured sock named Bishbob. He died. Tragic.
Mourn Bishbob. Mourn him.
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