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The following story recounts my recent playthrough of Red Dead Redemption spanning thirteen colorful days. Spoiler warning: I strongly suggest you avoid this article (despite its entertainment value) at all costs until you've completed the single player campaign.
Day One
It’s Tuesday, May 18, 2010. I venture on my break from work to Best Buy to pick up Alan Wake. I’m stoked. I'm just about to hit the cash register when I receive a text:
Get red dead you bitch.
PS I love you.
– Troy
Ah, my best pal Troy, always the gentleman. I pause, contemplating my next move until I notice a sign reading $20 off if one buys both Alan Wake and Red Dead Redemption. Sold!
I get home later, fire it in and pop into multiplayer. Troy and I overthrow a town controlled by six other players, or what we refer to in party chat as “douche bags”. I decide right then that this game rocks. I wonder how the single player holds up.
Day Two
I start up single player and meet John Marston for the first time. I immediately use my influence over him to force a sexual encounter with a prostitute. He refuses. I recoil in shock and re-check the mark on my CD case. My god, it’s really a Rockstar game.
Day Three
I feel like John Marston and I are old friends who suffer from mutual ADHD. We gamble. We stab his hand during Five Finger Fillet. We get angry at idiotic stranger requests. This is GTA with horses and a hero I can finally relate to. I’m a happy customer. Who needs multiplayer.
Day Four
After multiple retries to master Red Dead’s retarded turret controls, I complete the first act of the game. I rejoice with John and set off to Mexico — hoping there are no more turret sequences.
Day Five
Dude, I got a poncho. It just gets better and better. Alright, let’s see what these missions are like south of the border.
Day Six
Okay, these missions never end. I have no idea why my buddy John has become involved with these abhorrent excuses for human existence. Rockstar, I’m not a gringo; I’m Puerto Rican and Mr. Marston has bad men to stop. Let's get on with it please.
Day Seven
Still in Mexico and I’ve counted two turret sequences so far.
Day Eight
I think Mexico is nearly over. I clap my hands in excitement as I thrust myself into the climactic mission.
Day Nine
It wasn’t over….
Day Ten
Yes! I am done with Mexico! I celebrate by pumping twenty rounds into DeSanta’s beaten body. This satisfies me in ways I can’t describe (and probably shouldn’t). Man, I hated him. And Reyes, but they won’t let me kill Reyes.
Day Eleven
I tear through the Blackwater missions, feeling sad for my buddy John. He’s a relic of his time, slowly being phased out by civilization and emerging technology. I tell him to buck up as we set out to finish his journey and get his family back.
Day Twelve
It’s the last mission. I feel it in my bones. We’re going after Dutch in an armored automobile. Bad ass! Wait, is that a turret on the back of the car? No, please god n–
** INTERMISSION **
I’ll be honest. I died on this last turret mission so many times I nearly threw my controller at the wall. I had to stop playing Red Dead for a while to relax. My thirteenth and final day occurred nearly a week later.
Day Thirteen
I beat the turret mission and plunge into the thick of it with my mind set on seeing this tale end. This is my longest day of Red Dead yet. I experience the following sequence of events:
- I watch as Dutch jumps to his death, wondering why Rockstar is so scared of giving us a proper antagonist.
- I’m overjoyed when I return to John’s family.
- I buy cattle from Bonnie and become confused when the writers imply Bonnie would’ve been a better wife than Abigail.
- I live a good life on John’s farm, thinking this is the happiest Rockstar ending yet. Of course, I’m wrong.
- John is betrayed by Edgar Ross and ambushed: I fight off the military, screaming profanity at my TV for this treachery.
- I watch in horror as John steps out into the sun only to be gun downed like an animal (not before I take at least six of the backstabbing pricks with him).
Here, I told myself, the game is over. John Marston is dead. It's a powerful moment to end on (if a bit conceited).
Fast forward some odd years later and now I'm playing the grown-up and poorly voice-acted version of John Marston’s son Jack. Alright, Rockstar, I’ll bite. Let me avenge John and kill Edgar Ross.
Immediately, I start to track down Ross, murdering everyone connected to him in horrible ways. I lasso and drag his wife for a mile through the desert. I shoot his brother’s legs out right after he tells me what I need to know. And finally, after much riding, I find Ross by a river and pop him in the head. I'm satisfied. Then, the credits hit.
It’s game over and the screen reads: RED DEAD REDEMPTION. But wait, there was no redemption. I just turned John’s son into another killer. What the hell, Rockstar!
My girlfriend turns to me as she eats her sushi on the couch, slightly interested in today’s proceedings. “So… what was the point of all that stuff you did in Mexico?”
I'm dumbfounded.
I’m dumbfounded.The following story recounts my recent playthrough of Red Dead Redemption, spanning thirteen colorful days. Spoiler warning: I strongly suggest you avoid this article (despite it's high entertainment value) at all costs until you've completed the single player campaign.
Day One
It’s Tuesday, May 18, 2010. I venture on my break from work to Best Buy to pick up Alan Wake. I’m stoked. I'm just about to hit the cash register when I receive a text:
Get red dead you bitch.
PS I love you.
– Troy
Ah, my best pal Troy, always the gentleman. I pause, contemplating my next move until I notice a sign reading $20 off if one buys both Alan Wake and Read Dead. Sold!
I get home later, fire it in and pop into multiplayer. Troy and I overthrow a town controlled by six other players, or what we refer to in party chat as “douche bags”. I decide right then that this game rocks. I wonder how the single player holds up.
Day Two
I start up single player and meet John Marston for the first time. I immediately use my influence over him to force a sexual encounter with a prostitute. He refuses. I recoil in shock and re-check the mark on my CD case. My god, it’s really a Rockstar game.
Day Three
I feel like John Martson and I are old friends who suffer from mutual ADHD. We gamble. We stab his hand during Five Finger Fillet. We get angry at idiotic stranger requests. This is GTA with horses and a hero I can finally relate to; I’m a happy customer. Forget multiplayer.
Day Four
After multiple retries to master Red Dead’s retarded turret controls, I complete the first act of the game. I rejoice with John and set off to Mexico — hoping there are no more turret sequences.
Day Five
Dude, I got a poncho. It just gets better and better. Alright, let’s see what these missions are like south of the border.
Day Six
Okay, these missions never end. I have no idea why my buddy John has become involved with these abhorrent excuses for human existence. Rockstar, I’m not a gringo; I’m Puerto Rican and Mr. Marston has bad men to stop. Let's get on with it please.
Day Seven
Still in Mexico and I’ve counted two turret sequences so far.
Day Eight
I think Mexico is nearly over. I clap my hands in excitement as I thrust myself into the climactic mission.
Day Nine
It wasn’t over….
Day Ten
Yes! I am done with Mexico! I celebrate by pumping twenty rounds into DeSanta’s beaten body. This is satisfies me in ways I can’t describe (and probably shouldn’t). Man, I hated him. And Reyes, but they won’t let me kill Reyes.
Day Eleven
I tear through the Blackwater missions, feeling sad for my buddy John. He’s a relic of his time, slowly being phased out by civilization and emerging technology. I tell him to buck up as we set out to finish his journey and get his family back.
Day Twelve
It’s the last mission. I feel it in my bones. We’re going after Dutch in an armored automobile. Bad ass! Wait, is that a turret on the back of the car? No, please god n–
** INTERMISSION **
I’ll be honest. I died on this last turret mission so many times I nearly threw my controller at the wall. I had to stop playing Red Dead for a while to relax. My thirteenth and final day occurred nearly a week later.
Day Thirteen
I beat the turret mission and plunge into the thick of it with my mind set on seeing this tale to the end. This is my longest day of Red Dead yet. I experience the following sequence of events:
I watch as Dutch jumps to his death, wondering why Rockstar is so scared of giving us a proper antagonist.
I’m overjoyed when I return to John’s family.
I buy cattle from Bonnie and become confused when the writers imply Bonnie would’ve been a better wife than Abigail.
I live a good life on John’s farm, thinking this is the happiest Rockstar ending yet. Of course, I’m wrong.
John is betrayed by Edgar Ross and ambushed: I fight off the military, screaming profanity at my TV for this treachery.
I watch in horror as John steps out into the sun only to be gun downed like an animal (not before I take at least six of the backstabbing pricks with him).
Here, I told myself, the game is over. John Marston is dead. It's a powerful moment to end on (if a bit conceited).
Fast forward some odd years later and now I'm playing the grown-up and poorly voice-acted version of John Martson’s son Jack. Alright, Rockstar, I’ll bite. Let me avenge John and kill Edgar Ross.
Immediately, I start to track down Ross, murdering everyone connected to him in horrible ways. I lasso and drag his wife for a mile through the desert. I shoot his brother’s legs out right after he tells me where to find him. And lastly, after much riding, I find Ross by a river and pop him in the head. I'm satisfied. Then, the credits hit.
It’s game over and the screen reads: READ DEAD REDEMPTION. But wait, there was no redemption. I just turned John’s son into another killer. What the hell, Rockstar!
My girlfriend turns to me as she eats her sushi on the couch, slightly interested in today’s proceedings. “So… what was the point of all that stuff you did in Mexico?”
I’m dumbfounded.