|Ceci and Sad Charlie|
I have developed a problem. I cannot drive my car without the urge to ram it into other vehicles on the road. I stare down Smartcars and calculate whether or not I can squeeze between flatbeds and tractor trailers and I wonder how far I could make it driving into oncoming traffic.
I also have the urge to paint my minivan a pearlescent purple. Because I am a Saint. And I need to represent.
This is all the result of digitaltempest’s new co-op requirements and TIM going on and on about the value of PlayStation Plus. A subscription to the latter led to free Saints Row 3 and now I am happily causing shit all over Steelport in the name of the beautiful Johnny Gat. Co-oping with digitaltempest has taught us many things about each other (well, mostly it’s just taught her that she should drive) and there’s nothing like helping each other steal military vehicles, collect hoes and perform heliassaults to strengthen a friendship.
The other plus side of playing it is that it became quality time for my husband and I. He sat on the couch trying dutifully to ignore what I was doing on the flatscreen, but more often than not, his eyes would flick up and he’d offer suggestions. We even spent an entire evening dressing my Saint . And when I created a version of him to hang out with digitaltempest’s version of her husband for equality, my husband paid close attention to how I customized his Churchill. Inevitably, I came downstairs one night to find that he was happily on his way to taking over Steelport himself.
Make no mistake. This is a deplorable game and one I definitely can’t let our kids see (unless I turn down the volume and let them customize cars). In fact, without ever really knowing what this or GTA were like, I determined that the urban violence genre for the sake of violence just wasn’t my thing. But if you make it over the top satire, then I’m game. And if you show me a sequel that goes even further over the top AND features Keith David as Keith David, how can I possibly resist?