Despite these major grievances that cowardly gaming journalists tend to gloss over in fear that they may someday lose access to advance review copies and exclusive previews, Grand Theft Auto IV excels in the only area that matters to this web site, being an asshole. I visited Liberty City and during the course of my visit I did anything possible to ruin someone's day. This is my story.
Because our readers deserve the best and because my old capture card doesn't work anymore, the included videos were recorded directly off a CRT television complete with scan lines which were then fed into YouTube's patented "Turn Your Videos Into A Muddy Mess" filter.
If you go to each video's page you can switch to a high quality version so you can somewhat understand what is going on in the videos. Yes, I am aware the quality sucks so please feel free to email me about it and call me a dumb asshole over and over again.
After settling into Liberty City my cousin Roman called me (as he will 500 times during the course of this damn game) and asked if I wanted to hang out. "Sure!", I said and proceeded to go pick him up because hanging out with your fictional video game cousin is the closest some of us will get to human interaction.
There is an pastime in the old country called Act Like An Asshole To Everyone that people enjoy playing 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Eastern Europeans express their love for their families by speeding up when they reach for the car door. Then they slow down and make them think they are going to be able to get into the car, but speed up again! They do this repeatedly until someone is dead.
Today was no different. For six hours I let Roman think he was going to get into the car until he had a heart attack and died. Ah, I think I'm going to like this country.
Feeling homesick I decided to seek out one of my comrades in this ethnically diverse city of Liberty. When I found another Russian guy, who I knew was Russian because he had that stupid hat on, I decided to greet him in the customary Eastern European tradition of shoving him to the ground. Unfortunately his umbrella popped out of his hand in the process. I apologized in the only way a Eastern European man knows how to, by shoving him to the ground a second time.
Inadvertently punching him in the face seemed to cross a line that shoving him over and over again never would and he decided to fight back. An old-fashioned New York-style sidewalk shoving match ensued. It was then that the police showed up and arrested him for ruining my fun.
I thanked the policemen who wore magical disappearing hats for helping me. After watching Ricky Gervais at the local comedy club I figured these cops could use a little laugh, and pulling a gun on an officer of the law couldn't be any more painful than Gervais' act.
They didn't realize it was just a friendly joke and responded by drawing their own firearms. I tried to get them to understand it was all just a misunderstanding by waving a knife in their faces. Unfortunately these Liberty City cops had no sense of humor and one decided to shoot me dead while his partner somersaulted into the car door for some reason.
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
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